Amour Toxique: Books 1-3 Boxed Set (Books 1-3 Series Boxed Set)

by Dori Lavelle

  “Sit,” he barks at me.

  Feeling as though the contents of my brain have been shaken several times, I push away the dizziness and try to haul myself to my knees. Something falls to the floor. My instinct tells me it’s Damien and his chair.

  “You fool,” Judson approaches me. “You still think you can save her? Not going to happen.” He grabs me by the hair to a standing position and slams my butt onto the seat, so hard I swear my tailbone cracks. He unbinds my hands but only to wrap my arms around the back of the chair before binding them again. As he has done with Damien. He leaves my feet free.

  Defeated and unable to hold my head upright, my chin hits my chest. I stare at the trail of warm blood that drips down my bare skin onto my breast.

  “If the bomb goes off, you won’t be able to save her or yourself,” he says. “You’re both doomed to die a very painful death.” He pauses. “On second thought, I don’t mind escorting you both to hell. With both of you dead, my job here on earth would be done.”

  I lift my eyelids a fraction to steal a glance at Damien who’s still on the floor, in the struggle to set himself free. Judson doesn’t help him but instead walks away from me. He picks up the ticking bomb and studies it for a moment before placing it back down on the floor. “Ready or not, this little guy will transport us all straight to hell.”

  He whistles as he strides toward the stairs. “See you on the other side.” He climbs the staircase, taking one heavy step after the other, as though he has all the time in the world. As soon as the door slams shut, Damien’s heavy breathing fills the room, strained grunts and shuffling as he tries to get to the bomb, which is now in the center of the room. What will he do when he gets to it? Even if he happens to have the skills to deactivate a bomb, there’s nothing he can do with his hands behind his back. He struggles more, and slams his head into the floor with exhaustion before lifting it up again.

  I want to help him, to help us, but I don’t have enough energy left in me to fight only to end up losing.

  My heart sinks when Damien, too, stops trying to get to the bomb. Blood is seeping through the bandages around his injured arm.

  Closing my eyes, I listen to the beeping sounds coming from the small machine that’s about to take our lives and end it all. I want to know how much time we have left but I’m unable to see the counter as I’m too far away. For the second time in my life, I try to make friends with death. It doesn’t work this time as I struggle with the fear of being blown to pieces and having my skin and flesh melt in flames.

  A strange sound cuts through the silence and my eyes fly open. My first thought is that Judson has returned to deactivate the bomb. Maybe it was all a game to him, a way to frighten us and he didn’t actually plan on letting it go off. I raise my drowsy gaze to the top of the stairs but he doesn’t appear. The door remains closed. But that sound is still there, the sound of metal against metal. Damien must have heard it too because I see him struggle to lift his head to listen. The sound is not coming from the stairs but from another area of the room, from behind one wall.

  Suddenly, in my peripheral vision, I detect a movement. I turn to look just in time to see a door opening at one end of the room. It had looked so much like part of the wall that I hadn’t noticed it.

  Relief gushes through me when Adrian emerges, dressed all in black, gun in hand.

  Tears of joy choke my throat. I bounce up and down on my chair to catch his attention, even though he can clearly see both of us.

  Both Damien and I take turns making incoherent sounds, pleading for Adrian to set us free.

  “Thank God I made it to you in time.” Adrian gives me a brief glance then rushes to Damien first. He yanks the tape from his boss’s mouth. “If I hadn’t been in your office for the final inspection I wouldn’t have seen the security video feed on your office computers—”

  Office computer? Security video feed?

  As I digest Adrian’s words one by one, I move my gaze from one corner of the basement to the next, searching for the hidden cameras. I don’t see any. Anger rises up my throat when I realize that Damien had not only locked me up in a coffin in his basement, he also watched it the entire time, from computers at home and at work. I force my anger down. How can I be angry when the very cameras I hate are the ones saving our lives?

  “There’s a bomb,” Damien whispers hoarsely. “Get to it before it goes off.”

  Adrian’s gaze lands on the bomb. He nears it. Without touching it, he studies it for a moment, eyes narrowed. Sweat pools into my armpits when he bends to pick it up. I pray he knows what he’s doing. He turns the box over in his hand, prods it with a finger before he glances at Damien with a soft chuckle. “This is fake.” He presses a few buttons and the beeping stops. He drops it to the floor.

  I almost pass out with relief.

  Adrian returns to Damien but Damien shakes his head. “Take care of Ivy. Get her the hell out of this place.” His voice is deep and dusty, firm. “Drop by the office. Get the briefcase for her.”

  Adrian hesitates but nods. Within seconds he has freed my mouth and is trying to unravel the rope binding my hands together. His heavy breathing tells me he’s finding it hard to untie the tough knot. I lose patience and shrug him off. “Go to Damien. He’s bleeding.” I’m still better off than Damien. The bomb may be fake, but the clock is still ticking. Judson could return any moment.

  We all freeze when the sound of footsteps upstairs catches our attention. He’s back. “Please—hurry,” I say. Tears hit the back of my throat and I swallow them.

  Adrian’s gaze sweeps the room. He spots the knife Judson had used to cut my cheek. He uses it to cut through the tough ropes around Damien’s hands. Before he can do anything else, the footsteps get louder.

  “Don’t worry,” Adrian whispers. “I’ll get him before he makes it down here.”

  Adrian drops the knife and aims his gun at the top of the stairs, awaiting Judson’s appearance. Will he be able to shoot him before he shoots us?

  Damien bends his body at the waist and tries to untie the knot fastening one of his legs to the chair. “Forget me. Go help Ivy. Whatever happens, she’s your priority now. Make sure he doesn’t get near her again.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do as I say.” The frustration is evident in Damien’s tone as he struggles to free his legs.

  “Very well.” Adrian picks up the knife and dashes to my side the moment the key turns in the lock. Fear rushes in my ears as he cuts through the rope, succeeding to free me this time. He slides the knife across the floor in Damien’s direction and lifts me from the chair. My legs give way.

  “Hold on.” He scoops me into his arms and hurries toward the hidden door as Damien frees one of his legs.

  We barely make it to the door when the door to the basement bursts open.

  “Drop her or I’ll shoot,” Judson orders.

  Adrian’s steps falter. He hoists me higher in his arms to better aim his gun at Judson. “Not before I shoot.” With each word, Adrian takes a step back, toward the door.

  Judson takes careful steps down the stairs, Adrian moves faster. By the time we reach the door, Judson is at the bottom of the stairs, a cloud of thunder darkening his face. “Don’t fuck with me.” He takes a few steps toward us.

  “Back off, Judson. Lock the door behind you, Adrian.” Damien, who has finally freed himself, steps between Judson and us, holding the knife in front of him. When Judson doesn’t stop moving, Damien lunges for him, but Judson steps out of the way at the last second. Damien falls to the ground at his feet and the knife slides from his hand and out of his reach.

  The last thing I see as we disappear through the secret door and into a dark tunnel is Judson’s gun aimed at Damien’s chest. The moment the door closes, a gunshot rings out.

  A raw scream rips through me as Adrian fumbles with the lock of the door then runs with me in his arms.

  64

  “You’re going to be okay,” Adrian promises, hu
rrying me through the dim tunnel. “I’ll take you to a safe place.” Silent pauses fill the spaces between the words, which tells me he’s not sure if we’ll be able to escape Judson’s wrath, that he’ll be able to keep the promise he made Damien. Judson could find us at the other end of the tunnel.

  I suck in the moldy air and damp wood smell, biting back tears.

  When I last checked the time, before Damien had gone down for a drink, it had been 1:00 a.m. Whether Adrian and I will live long enough to see the break of dawn is in God’s hands. Or Judson’s. If I survive, how would I ever be able to stop replaying what happened in the basement? How would I forget the sounds of the shots fired, the haunted look in Damien’s eyes, the taste of blood and dust on my tongue, the smell of gin? How will I forget the sensation of Damien’s penis inside me?

  At last, we emerge from the tunnel onto a beach with miles of sand and pebbles stretching out ahead of us. Waves rumble in the distance.

  Whether this private beach belongs to Damien’s mansion or if we’re off his grounds, I can’t tell. Why did Damien have a secret tunnel built on his property in the first place? Did he live in fear of Judson?

  Right now it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it got us the hell out of there.

  I take a breath, replacing the stale air with fresh sea air.

  A shiver ripples through me when a blast of cool air—carrying water droplets—sweeps over my skin, penetrating the thin material of my negligée.

  Adrian doesn’t lower me to the ground as he turns onto a dark path leading away from the beach. Is he worried I’d slow our pace? The long dry reeds framing the path tickle my dangling legs. His breathing comes in short, quick gasps by the time we climb the steps on one side of the promenade and descend on the other.

  His car is parked behind a closed hot dog stand.

  When he bundles me inside, I flop to my side, where my butchered cheek meets the leather of the backseat. He does his best to fasten the seatbelt around me without my having to sit upright. The moment he shuts the door, my tears come. The salt stings my cheek but the pain is welcome. It makes me feel a different sensation apart from numbness.

  Adrian gets behind the wheel and drives us to what I hope is safety. Since arriving at Damien’s mansion, all I wanted was to escape. Now I have and I still don’t feel free. In fact, my heart is heavier than it had been in the past weeks.

  Adrian is on the phone, talking to someone in fluent Spanish. I hope it’s the police and a paramedic. Maybe someone will make it to Damien in time to save his life. And Judson has to be stopped. The thought of him traveling around the US, pretending to be a professor so he can get his hands on innocent girls to defile and then sell, fills me with dread.

  I’m not sure how long we drive but the car eventually comes to an abrupt halt. Adrian exits the car and comes to carry me from the backseat, where he finds me in the same position he had left me. With me in his arms, he kicks open a metal gate and walks me to the door of a one-story house. The door opens before we reach it and Hanna emerges, the light from the house making her white nightgown glow.

  “Heavens, what did he do to her? Adrian, she’s bleeding.”

  “I’ll explain later.” Adrian carries me into the house and shuts the door. “Get the first aid kit. I think she’s in shock.”

  He lowers me onto a camel corduroy couch and I close my eyes; the soothing familiar sound of Hanna’s voice calming my nerves.

  “Sweetheart, don’t be afraid,” she coos. “I’ll take care of you.”

  I lift my eyelids to see her face. The loose hair around her shoulders makes her face softer than I remember from when she worked at Damien’s mansion.

  She touches my unbruised cheek then stands. Throwing Adrian a look, she pushes past him and walks up a short staircase. She returns with a first aid kit and tends to the cut on my cheek.

  “It’s time you tell me everything, Adrian Peters. What did Damien do to the poor girl? I’m tired of the secrets.” Hanna doesn’t look at Adrian as she cleans my cut.

  Since we arrived, Adrian has been pacing the room, twisting his handlebar mustache between a thumb and forefinger.

  “It wasn’t Damien. It was Judson.”

  Hanna pauses but her hand remains on my cheek. “The psychotic twin brother? Isn’t he locked away—in the US?”

  “Not anymore. He escaped.” He lets go of the mustache. “Look, honey, I’ll tell you everything later. There are a few things I need to get from Damien’s office first.”

  Honey?

  “Where’s Damien now?” Hanna brushes back my hair, unsticking it from the blood on my cheek.

  “Judson shot him as we were getting away.”

  “Jesus.” A shocked breath shoots from Hanna’s mouth and cools my damp cheek. “He’s dead?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly. There’s something he asked me to do. He made me promise to take care of Ivy and that’s what I intend to do.” Adrian hurries back to the door. “I won’t be long.”

  “Are we safe here? Did you call the police?” Hanna’s voice comes out choked.

  “I think we’re safe for now. I called the cops on the way here.”

  Adrian pulls the door open and disappears into the night.

  “I’m so sorry,” Hanna says when we’re alone. “You poor, poor girl. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

  I swallow my tears. I think it will be a while before I’m able to speak again.

  65

  I wrap my hands around the mug of coffee Hanna gives me and close my eyes for a moment, still trying to shut out the pictures that will forever torment my mind. It doesn’t help. To distract myself I gaze into the hot liquid, studying the surface for images which aren’t there.

  I look back up at Hanna, who had not been able to sit still since handing me the coffee. She’s moving around the room, wringing her hands and pushing the curtain back several times. Her lips are moving as though she’s saying something no one should hear.

  I want to say something to her but I can’t find the words. So I wait for her to start the conversation. She comes to a stop and stands for a few seconds in the middle of the room before settling next to me. She raises her hand and touches the Band-Aid on my cheek with the tip of her fingers.

  “I’m ashamed.” She purses her lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t see what he was doing to you. I . . . Perhaps I didn’t want to.”

  I’m surprised that she’s focusing on what Damien had done to me instead of his much more evil brother’s crimes. But I don’t stop her as she continues to talk. She needs to say whatever’s laying heavy on her chest and I need the distraction.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for choosing to be blind.” She brings her hands together in her lap and clutches them. “He wasn’t always bad, you know. He—He did some good things in his life. Maybe that’s why I overlooked his sins.” She pulls an embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of her nightgown and blows her nose. “If it weren’t for Damien, Adrian would not be alive today. Five years ago, Adrian needed a liver to save his life. Damien didn’t even think twice. He gave him the gift of life. After that, our loyalty was to him. We had no idea how to repay him otherwise.”

  “I didn’t know you and Adrian are married?” I ask, saying my first words in what seems like hours. My swollen lips throb with pain.

  “We like to keep things professional at work.” She pauses. “Fifteen years last month. He was my first love. We both worked for Damien and Judson’s stepfather.” She purses her lips. “That man was pure evil. The things he put those boys through . . . despicable. And the mother was never around to set them on the straight path after he corrupted them. As the help, we had no choice but to turn the other way, to pretend we didn’t see. Judson suffered less only because he became like him sooner. He became the favorite son.”

  “And Damien resisted?”

  “The poor boy paid dearly for it. It was only a matter of time before he, too, turned into the monster his stepfather was.”


  My heart aches as I recall Damien telling me about how his stepfather had forced him to do things small boys should never be subjected to. An uncomfortable thought niggles at the back of my mind. I wet my dry lips and put it into words. “How was he punished when he misbehaved?” I’m unable to raise my voice above a whisper.

  Hanna shifts her gaze away from me.

  “Hanna, how was he punished?” I ask again, my voice stronger.

  “He was locked up for days on end, sometimes longer. The man did to Damien what Damien did to you.” She exhales. “But instead of being locked up in a room, he got the dark basement. And he was sometimes tied to a pole.” Hanna blows her nose again, her hands trembling. “To this day I still remember the sounds of his screams.”

  No wonder Damien built that tunnel. His childhood fears had followed him into adulthood. My heart bleeds for him, for the broken years of his life. But as much as my mind wants to dwell on his pain, I can’t think about his life or his death. Not now. The only person who should matter now is me. The splinters from his broken life have pierced me too.

  I raise the mug of coffee to my lips and sip the sweet, hot liquid, following its journey over my tongue and down my throat, enjoying its comforting warmth. As soon as I drain the mug, Hanna springs to her feet and brings me more, glad to have something to occupy her. When she returns from the kitchen, she finds me with my hand over my cheek.

  “Don’t worry. The cut wasn’t too deep. I’m sure it won’t take long before it heals.”

  I lift my gaze to her face and give her a bittersweet smile. My physical wounds are the least of my problems. The pain and the scars do not concern me. The wounds that matter, the ones that won’t stop bleeding, are the ones hidden within.