Ruthless Surrender

by Zoe Blake

  The little minx stubbornly turned her head away. Her pink lips pressed into a straight line.

  Logan’s brow lowered as he ran the tip of his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth, the slight scrape of pain keeping him grounded. She may not be innocent in this mess, but he still needed to be careful. She had information he needed. Information he would do anything to learn. Anything.

  His hand lowered to his jeans.

  Pulling his thick leather belt through the clasp of the heavy belt buckle, Logan’s eyes pierced his unwilling captive’s. “It’s time you learn what happens to bad girls who lie.”

  Chapter 3

  Earlier that evening

  * * *

  Chloe rubbed her neck. She had been bent over her JoolTool, polishing for over an hour. The soft whirring noise filled her small second story studio. She looked at the metal clay molds scattered about her workbench. Her latest design was a large silver sugar skull pendant. Its eyes and design features were filled with small precious stones. The boutique she worked with in New York had already placed an order for two hundred. It would take her two solid weeks to fill the requisition. It was quiet, solitary work, and she preferred it that way.

  Considering the loud chaos of her life a couple of years ago, spending time alone in the woods working on her jewelry designs was a heaven she didn’t deserve.

  Her mind flashed back to those years. What she remembered most was the blood. A bright crimson. The sickening metallic smell of it. The more it flowed, the slower and softer the begging became. The words becoming slurred and thick like the dark, sickly flow of red.

  Giving herself a shake, Chloe’s eyes sought the view outside her glass French doors. The pristine lake with its ducks and geese gently floating on the rippling surface always had a calming effect. Time had slipped away from her. The warm glow of afternoon had waned into a cold, dark drizzling rain. Instead of a view of the lake, her own reflection looked back at her in the dark glass. With her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, Chloe’s high cheekbones gave her face a sunken, tired appearance. A dark sullen look to match her dark sullen mood.

  Deep down she knew she was lying to herself. Her reflection told a truth she was too much of a coward to admit to herself. She was restless and bored. While she didn’t miss many things about her old life, she did miss the rush, the energy, the madness of it. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she did something rash, something ill-advised, just to calm her agitated soul. She was chafing at her self-imposed bonds of boring respectability. Hating the weight of responsibility, only the guilt she felt kept her in line and, with each day, its hold on her slipped.

  With a resigned sigh, she gathered up the small trays of precious stones and walked over to the massive black safe that lurked in the corner. Punching in the six-digit code, she waited till she heard the thunk of the latch releasing before grasping the cold metal handle. Wrenching it clockwise, she opened the heavy door. Averting her eyes from the old, purple Crown Royal bag bunched to the side, Chloe placed the trays inside the safe and locked it.

  She took the steps two at a time down to the first floor. Her studio was above the garage, which was a separate cabin from her home. She looked about the pristine space. Every wall was covered in white cabinets and drawers, each one carefully labeled. She and her uncle had shared the same love of organization. Gloves, maps, flares, ammunition. He had used this property as a hunting retreat. There was the main house, the garage with the loft space above, a shed for preparing any game killed and another cabin which was an informal bunkhouse. It had been a godsend when he’d offered it to her to stay after…well, after.

  Reaching up for the metal chain to the single light bulb, she pulled it, pitching the large space into darkness. Shaking off a chill of apprehension, she headed for the welcoming glow of the main cabin. It was silly, but she always kept the lamp on the kitchen table lit. It gave the illusion someone was waiting for her when she got home. Preferring some solitude, and coming home to the cold, damp feeling of a dark home, were two different things. Knowing her thin T-shirt would be no match for the light drizzle, Chloe bolted for the cover of the front porch. Opening the door she always kept unlocked, she stepped into the cramped mud room. As she closed the door and kicked off her sneakers, the sound of clinking glass came from inside.

  Without thinking, she raced through the open door into the tiny kitchen. There was a male form standing in front of her open fridge, hanging onto the door as he rummaged through the various containers and bottles.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Chloe. You never change. Nothing but half-empty Chinese food containers. I ate better behind bars.”

  The man opened one cardboard container and, after taking a sniff, turned and began opening drawers till he found a fork. Piercing a large bite of lo mein, he shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Sickening slurping noises filled the silent room.

  Chloe stood there frozen in horror.

  He had found her.

  It had been a risk going to family for help, but she had never talked about her uncle to him. Tucking herself away in the isolated woods of upstate Michigan was as far away from the crowds and noise of Louisiana as she could get. Besides, he was supposed to still be in prison. She took in the dark blue jeans and the white sweatshirt stamped with Daniel Wade Correctional Center. Apparently, he had been until recently.

  “You escaped?” Her voice sounded hollow and breathless.

  He gave her a wink. “Always the smart one. Let’s just say I secured my own early release.”

  Chloe placed a hand on the kitchen island to keep the room from spinning. “How?”

  “A lonely woman who comes to the prison to bring color and art to us poor, corrupt souls and an unguarded ventilation shaft.” His response was dismissive.

  Chloe felt a brief stab of pity for the unknown woman. Her life was probably now ruined because she’d fallen for Chad’s charms. Just another notch in his belt.

  “I didn’t hear you drive up.” It was an inane statement, but she needed a moment to process his presence in her sanctuary.

  “Piece of shit I stole ran out of gas just outside of town. Walked the rest of the way,” he said with his mouth full of Chinese food.

  “But how did you find me?”

  Chad had turned back to rummaging in the fridge, opening containers. “What? You think you’re clever or something?” He shook his head with a look of disgust on his face. “You think you’re so smart. Wills are public record, you dumb bitch. A quick Internet search was all it took to find your dead uncle’s shack in the woods.”

  Chloe closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of him but not his words or the memories.

  “Chad, you can’t be here. The cops will be looking for you.”

  “I spent three years behind bars because of you, bitch. I’m not going anywhere till I get what I came for.”

  She felt the familiar twist of tension in her stomach. She had covered her tracks so well. There was no way he knew she’d been the one who’d taken the diamonds, that she’d been the one who’d ratted him out to Internal Affairs. Chloe took a step back, taking comfort from the feel of the solid wall behind her back.

  His long, greasy blond hair was tucked behind his ears. Years spent inside had cost him his dark tan, but his body was still lean with muscle. Those brown eyes she’d once thought were so beautifully mesmerizing looked watery and unfocused. He was high.

  A sober Chad was as mean as a snake, but a high Chad? Much worse.

  Keeping her shoulders pressed to the wall, she slid her right foot to the side. One tiny step.

  “I… I don’t have anything of yours, Chad. I gave everything to your brother before I left.”

  One more tiny step to the right.

  “Left? Left? You mean skipped town. Leaving me with no alibi. Do you have any idea how pissed Jose was when he found out I had left the shit with you?”

  Jose had been Chad’s gang connection when he’d been a dirty cop down in Louisiana. Chad
would skim product off the top of any drug bust then, for a cut, give it to Jose to sell back on the streets. Only problem was that Chad got greedy. Started taking more and more and his bosses had become suspicious. Internal Affairs had started asking questions. Chad, once a great boyfriend, became more and more violent and erratic as he started to sample the product himself. Things got bloody.

  And Chloe had started to plan her escape.

  She’d taken only what could fit in the back of her car and had gotten the hell out of there. Chad had been relying on her to lie to the police and give him an alibi for that night. Instead, she’d told Internal Affairs everything she knew and left with the diamonds. The damn diamonds. They had been a side job of Chad’s. He’d thought no one knew about them, and he was almost right. The police hadn’t made him for that job, but she’d known about them, and where he had hidden them.

  They were supposed to be her ticket out. She had been going to use the money to go to Europe. Start a new life. Turned out she needn’t have bothered. The damn stones were S11s, with excessive clouds and pinpoints, and were practically worthless. Leave it to Chad to go to all the trouble of stealing diamonds that even a cheap jewelry store would sell for drill bit parts. Still, she kept them as a reminder. A reminder of the time she’d sunk to her lowest level.

  Two years later and she still hadn’t shaken off the guilt. The feeling she should have been punished for what she’d done, and hadn’t done, still remained. She’d known Chad was dirty, and she’d looked the other way. There was something about the danger, the kick in the teeth to society’s rules, that had thrilled her. Besides, no one was really getting hurt, right?

  Wrong.

  Chad dropped the Chinese food container on the counter, not giving a shit when sauce splattered on the tile surface. Turning his back on her, he examined the still-open fridge. “No beer. Of course.”

  Chloe took the chance and slid to her right again. Reaching blindly, her hand closed on the smooth plastic of her wall phone. Cell phones were unreliable and practically useless this deep in the woods. Lifting the phone off the cradle, she prepared to lock herself in the bathroom just around the corner and call the police. It would mean awkward questions and gossip. Word would spread quickly throughout the small town. She would have to leave her cozy haven.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  His angry shout was her only warning.

  There was a crushing pain in the lower part of her ribs. Her lungs seized. Striking the hard floor with her knees, she collapsed to her side. Her mouth opened grotesquely wide as she struggled to suck in air.

  She watched helplessly as Chad placed his booted foot on her hair, pinning her to the floor, a trapped butterfly.

  “You’re going to tell me where you hid my shit, bitch, or I’ll fucking kick you to death.”

  The squeezing pain in her lungs would not allow her to scream as she watched his other foot shift backwards. Her eyes rolled back. She passed out before the first kick.

  Disoriented, Chloe opened her eyes. Splaying her fingers, she felt the gritty surface of her kitchen’s linoleum floor. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she gingerly tried to rise to her feet. Her ribs and stomach were sore but not overly so. He must have only just punched her. The kick a threat. A threat he had carried through on in the past. Unwillingly, her mind returned to that other night. Chad had beaten a child to force that child’s father to give up information on where some large cache of cocaine was hidden. Beaten the poor kid. Right in front of Chloe. Then he’d kicked her when she’d tried to intervene, and that had only been the beginning.

  Blood. Bright crimson blood.

  He should have been put in jail for the rest of his life for what he’d done that night. Instead, he’d flipped on some gang leaders and corrupt officials, pulled some strings and had gotten a slap on the wrist. Five years in a minimum security prison, Daniel Wade Correction Center in Claiborne Parish. A prison filled with dirty cops and dirtier politicians. He’d probably made more connections than he’d lost by going in, and was now more dangerous than ever.

  Chad was a blight. A threat to decent people. As long as he lived, she would never be free of her past.

  There were some thudding noises coming from the small study just off the kitchen. Then the sound of breaking glass.

  Chloe forced herself to her feet. Gripping the doorjamb for support, its harsh edge digging into her palm, she peered into the darkened room.

  Chad was tossing the place. Books, knick-knacks and a broken picture frame lay scattered on the floor.

  “Where the fuck are they?” he shouted.

  Once again, her stomach knotted. She had taken the diamonds before he’d had a chance to try and fence them. He probably thought they were actually worth something. If she gave him the diamonds, there was no guarantee he would leave. It might make him even angrier if he had proof she had absolutely betrayed him and angrier still when he realized the diamonds were practically worthless. He might start drawing conclusions about her role with Internal Affairs. No matter what, she couldn’t admit she had the diamonds. His reaction was too uncertain. The risk too great. If she let him continue to search the house, it would buy her some time to try to get the police. Perhaps he wouldn’t even think to search the garage.

  “I swear to God, bitch. The second I find those fucking stupid toys of yours I’m going to break your goddamn neck for making me look for them.” Chad continued to curse and mumble under his breath as he upended a small trunk of blankets she kept next to her reading chair.

  Toys?

  He wasn’t making sense. It had probably taken him close to a week to reach her from Louisiana. By the looks of him, he was more concerned with getting a quick score than eating or showering. His movements were sharp and erratic. His ramblings disjointed and confused. She caught the word kill and bitch more than once.

  Chloe knew with absolute certainty he was going to finish what he’d started two years ago on that dark night.

  “Chad, how about I fix you something to eat?” Her voice sounded high-pitched and hollow from her forced cheerfulness.

  “You? Cook? I’d rather eat prison food.” His harsh words were given in a scathing snarl.

  “Fine. How about a drink then. Whiskey, right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah,” he responded, distractedly. His eyes were wild from whatever he was on. “Then you’re going to show me where you stashed my shit.”

  Chloe stepped back into the kitchen. Spinning around, she searched for a weapon. She looked at the set of knives in the knife block, an obvious choice, but no. He would overpower her before she got two steps near him. There were her uncle’s hunting rifles in the living room gun cabinet, but none of them were loaded. Think. Think! There had to be something she could use.

  She opened the freezer and made a racket pulling out the ice trays. She then loudly opened and closed cabinet doors so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

  Think!

  She forced her scared and scattered mind to focus. There was one thing. It might not work, but it was her only option.

  Calling out to Chad, she said, “There are a few boxes I never unpacked in the back of my closet in the bedroom.”

  Chad stormed into the kitchen. He grabbed her upper arm in a painfully tight grip. “It’s about time you started being useful, you dumb bitch. Where’s my drink?”

  “I’m getting it now.”

  He let go of her arm and stalked into the darkened bedroom.

  Chloe waited till he was out of sight then dashed into the bathroom. With shaking hands, she carefully opened the medicine cabinet door, not wanting Chad to hear a sound. Reaching for an old pill bottle, she scurried back into the kitchen. Making sure to clink the glasses as she pulled one down, she opened the pill bottle. Her uncle’s prescription for secobarbital. His “little red devils” as he called them. Chloe remembered them as the drug from that book, Valley of the Dolls. Hearing the sounds of boxes being torn open in the next room, she dumped the
pills onto her wooden carving board. Ten pills, each 100 mg. Would it be enough? Maybe she would get lucky, and the whiskey and cocaine already coursing through his veins would take up any slack. Using a large spoon, she crushed the pills then mixed the pinkish powder into at least three fingers of whiskey. It would taste bitter and looked a bit cloudy. Fortunately, she knew Chad was never one to sip and take his time with something pleasurable. He grabbed. He consumed. He gulped. It was true in the bedroom and out, she remembered with a wry twist of her lips.

  Tucking a small paring knife into her back pocket in case things went awry, her bare feet felt cold as she hesitantly crossed the kitchen into the master bedroom. She had to call out his name twice before he emerged from the walk-in closet. He looked ridiculous. His hair was sticking up all over. A pair of pantyhose was stuck to his sleeve, and in his hand he held a single leopard print pump. Still, Chloe knew better than to laugh or comment.

  The ice rattled in the glass as her shaking hand held it out to him.

  True to form, Chad seized it, tossing the contents back without sparing it a glance.

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he threw the glass at Chloe. She only just avoided being hit in the head. “Fuck, that tastes like shit. What kind of cheap, bullshit whiskey do you keep in this joint? Get me vodka this time.”

  Chloe turned as if in a daze. She walked back into the kitchen and just stood there. Waiting. She could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. Her fingers felt cold and numb. Still she waited. The sounds of Chad tossing her closet continued. Still she waited. She swayed a bit on her feet. The adrenaline pumping through her body was making her nauseated and dizzy.

  She gave out a cry of fright when Chad appeared in the doorway.

  His step was unsteady as he pointed a finger at her. “You! I know what you are up to!” he accused.

  Chloe reached back for the plastic grip of the small knife she had in her jeans pocket.