Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe he's as exhausted as I am. Things will be different when we're away from all of this. He needs to relax as much as I do. Our honeymoon is going to be good for him, for us. Then it's back on the campaign trail the moment we get home.
* * *
"What are you doing?" Johnathan asks as I close his office door behind me, lacking the book of stamps I was looking for.
"I need more stamps for the thank you cards," I reply as I attempt to pass him.
Slapping his hand against the wall to stop me, I turn to find him staring at me in anger. We've been home less than a week and fighting since the second day of our honeymoon.
The shift in his demeanor was so sudden I never saw it coming. One minute we were vowing to love each other until the day we die, and the next he’s blowing up in my face over nothing. It's like something inside him snapped while we were on the island. Anywhere I wanted to go he vetoed. Anything I wanted to do wasn't an option.
We spent ten days in one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to, and we never left the resort. It wasn’t a vacation. We weren’t celebrating the start of our new life. I felt like a prisoner in our room.
Sex, food, and booze. That was Johnathan's game plan.
"What have I told you about going in my office?" he snaps, turning his body so I'm trapped between him and the wall. Thunder cracks outside, the storm that's been sitting over the island the last few days is beginning to intensify. "You need to stay out of there and mind your own business."
The words I'm sorry are on my lips, but I refuse to apologize. Not after the way he's treated me recently. He's the one who needs to learn those words. And fast because as much as I love him, this is not the marriage I signed up for. I understand he's stressed, but that's no excuse.
"Dinner should be ready in ten minutes," I state, crossing my arms over my chest, letting him know I'm standing my ground. That only fuels his fire.
"Bedroom. Now," he demands, his voice taking on a deep, sensual tone.
Sex. His way of making everything better between us. Only, it's not the sweet but dirty kind we used to have.
Still, my body responds to his voice, excitement pooling between my legs. Taking a step back, Johnathan allows me to pass, swatting me on the ass as I step into our bedroom.
Making quick work of undressing me, Johnathan bends me over the edge of the bed. He's still fully dressed. He didn't even bother to pull his pants down. His fully erect cock pokes through his open zipper, and he's ready.
Then he thrusts into me roughly. He's taking me. This is as far from love making as you can get. This is for his pleasure and his pleasure alone. It'll be a bonus if I get off, but that probably won't happen considering he's chanting as he fucks me.
"Mine. You're mine, Amelia. All mine. Don't you forget that."
Over and over again until I feel him release inside me and his movements begin to slow.
"Clean up," he states, pulling out of me. I hear the sound of his zipper followed by soft footsteps as he exits the room, leaving me bent over the edge of the bed.
That was the worst five minutes of my life. I can't wait until the stress of the election is over. No more campaign. No more late meetings. He can relax a little and not worry about what everyone else is saying about him. Maybe then he'll be the Johnathan I fell in love with again. If not... I don't really want to think about the worst-case scenario.
Leaving him is not an option. I threatened to leave him on our honeymoon if he didn't stop acting like an asshole. I wasn't serious. All I wanted was for him to loosen up and leave the hotel room. You'd think that would have caused him to straighten up. Instead, it angered him. He pinned me against the bed, his hand around my throat, and threatened to kill me if I ever left him.
My instincts were telling me to leave him. To run as far away as I could as fast as possible.
It was the look in his eyes as he threatened me that solidified my decision to stay. It left no doubt in my mind that he would kill me if I tried.
Johnathan heads to the office after dinner, leaving me alone with my thoughts and concerns. Concerns that are growing by the minute. They nag at me as I clean up the kitchen and change the bed sheets. They're still all I can think about an hour later when while I'm pressing Johnathan's shirts.
Why is he acting like this? It has to be more than just the election. He's ahead in the polls. The wedding skyrocketed his approval ratings.
Plopping down on the couch, I reach for my phone to check the latest poll when it chimes in my hand.
Severe Thunder Storm Warning. Shelter in place.
A loud crack of thunder sounds, rattling the windows, followed by a flash of lightning. It's going to get worse before it gets better, and as much as I'm not in the mood for Johnathan's attitude, I'd rather not be here alone.
ME: Storm’s ramping up. Should I come to the office?
JOHNATHAN: Stay there. You'll be safer.
ME: Are you coming back home?
JOHNATHAN: No. They're not letting anyone back on the island.
Shit! What if it gets worse? Where do I even hide? This place is basically a house of windows, floor to ceiling, aside from the little bathroom in the hall. I guess that's where I'll make my home until it passes.
Tapping the weather app on my phone to check the radar, it's about to load when the power flickers above me and the lights slowly fade. Darkness surrounds me. Only the light from my phone remains, shining brightly in my face.
ME: Power just went out.
JOHNATHAN: I'll send someone to pick you up.
He'll send someone for me, but he can't come get me himself? Maybe I should just get in the car and leave. Not that I can get far. If they're not letting anyone on the island, I'm sure the bridge is closed, which means I can't get off either. It's better just to stay here.
JOHNATHAN: Garcia is going to try to get to you. Stay close to your phone.
Ugh! It's been so nice not having to deal with him lately. If he's the only way for me to get the hell out of here, I guess it's better than nothing.
I'm about to respond to his text when there's a knock at the door. Two things come to mind. First, how did Garcia make it here so fast? Second, if it's not Garcia knocking, who the hell is here?
Looking through the peephole does me no good. It's dark outside, and I can't see anything but a shadow.
"Who's there?" I call out.
"It's Micah," the familiar voice replies. Why the hell is he here? Did Garcia send him in his place? Does Johnathan know he's here? I'm sure he wouldn't approve if he knew, considering the accusations.
Still, he's help, and I need it right now.
"Did Johnathan send you?" I ask as I open the door and he walks inside.
"No." There's a hint of laugher in his voice that quickly fades to a serious tone. "No one knows I'm here."
"Detective Ayers, what is this about?" He's asked me to call him Micah on multiple occasions, but I can't bring myself to do it. It feels too personal, and he's the one person I shouldn't get up close and personal with.
There’s something about him that I’m drawn to. I can’t put my finger on it, but right now, it’s the way he has one stray strand of hair that keeps falling in front of his right eye. Or it could be the fact his shirt is soaked and I can see the outline of his perfectly toned body as it clings to him.
It makes me wish it wasn’t dark in here so I could get a better look at what that shirt is stuck to.
"I saw Johnathan leave."
"Are you stalking my husband?"
“Surveillance.”
“On your personal time, or are you on the clock?” Not that it makes a difference. It actually brings me a little relief to know someone is watching.
"I cut the power to the house so the cameras are off. We don't have a lot of time to get out of here before they close the bridge. The storm is worse than they anticipated, and the waves are getting bigger. It won’t be safe to cross if we don’t hurry. Pa
ck a bag while I look for what I came for, Amelia."
Cameras?
The power didn't go out on its own?
He staged all of this.
He wants me to leave with him. Why? Is this his way of saving me?
"What are you talking about? Johnathan said the bridge is already closed. More importantly, what cameras?"
Ayer’s turns on his heels and walks the six feet back to me in two strides, gripping my shoulders in his large, firm hands. His touch is electric, and the look in his eyes tells me he felt the spark too.
"Your husband watches you all day. There are cameras in the ceiling lights. Hidden behind pictures. They're everywhere. The only time they aren't operational is when the power is out. So I need you to pack a bag, and we need to leave before he finds out the island hasn't lost power, only this house."
Question after question pops in my mind.
"How do you know all of this?"
"Amelia, we've been watching you for months. Watching him for almost a year. Since my sister went missing. We've managed to hack into his video feed once or twice hoping to find anything from that night, but the device he records onto is in the house somewhere. I need to find it."
He watches me? Why? What is he watching for? It's not like I do anything aside from cook and clean. Still, that's creepy as fuck.
“He swore he would kill me if I ever left him.” My voice is barely audible.
“We’re not going to let that happen.”
“Who? You and Garcia? Isn’t he on Johnathan’s side?”
“Garcia isn’t working this case with me. I called in a special favor.”
“From?” He’s not telling me anything, and I’m not leaving with him unless I know I’m safe.
“I promise to tell you everything once we’re out of here. Go, please," he begs, releasing my shoulders. "Pack a bag. I need to get you off this island before the storm surge comes."
You can hear the concern in his voice. I can feel it in the way he's looking at me.
Moving around him, I head toward the bedroom to do as he asks. I want off this island, and if he's my ticket out of here, I'm going to do as he asks. I’ll have to trust that he can protect me because failure is not an option for me.
Snagging clean clothes, I toss them on the bed and head into the closet in search of something to carry everything in. Using the light from my cellphone, I spot a tiny duffel at the top of the closet I can use. Jumping up, I snag the handle and pull. It lands with a thud on the floor, the sound of glass cracking inside.
"What was that?" Ayers asks, appearing behind me a few minutes later.
All I can do is point at the bag. I'm not sure what's inside it, but I've broken it, and I know if Johnathan finds out, he's going to be pissed. That shouldn't even be a concern right now, but it's the first thought that comes to mind.
Ayers lifts the bag, shakes it, the glass rattling inside, and leaves the closet. Following him out of curiosity, I watch as he pushes my clothes aside and sets the bag on the bed, slowly pulling the zipper down. Reaching inside, I hear him sifting through the glass, and then he's pulling something out. Stepping closer so I can see what it is, I'm surprised by what I find.
"That’s my sister," he states, his eyes glued to the picture in his hands.
She's smiling, wrapped in Johnathan's arms. And in the background, a sign for the restaurant I wanted to go to on our honeymoon. The same restaurant that caused him to freak out on me and threaten my life.
“They went to Turks & Cacaos together.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Just before she disappeared.”
It's like all the pieces of the puzzle have magically come together. A puzzle I didn't realize I was attempting to complete. One that sheds new light on the kind of man my husband really is. His new personality. The way he acted on our honeymoon.
One picture is making me question everything I know. Is Micah's story true? Did Johnathan have something to do with his sister’s disappearance? What about what happened with Gina? Was he really fucking her? Who knows what else he's been hiding from me.
Because there has to be more.
Our entire relationship. Was it all a lie?
This all started to keep the press from thinking I was doing the walk of shame. To make sure neither of us were portrayed in a negative light. And as I think about it now, it’s been that way ever since. Everything I do, say, wear… it all is for his image.
What have I gotten myself into?
“Having a good time?” I hear Johnathan ask, his voice full of malice. Slowly turning to face him, I watch as he reaches into his dresser drawer. Lightning flashes, revealing the silver handgun he’s holding, as he pulls back on the slide, the soft click echoing through the room.
To be continued…
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About the Author
Rachael Brownell is an award-winning author of both young-adult and new-adult romance. She resides in the midwest with her husband, son and their fur-babies. To learn more about Rachael and her books, follow her on social media or sign up for her monthly newsletter.
For more information…
www.AuthorRachaelBrownell.com
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Also by Rachael Brownell
Rumors Series
Rumors: Emerson & Ryder
Rumors: Justine & Devon
Rumors: Angela & Tyler
Rumors: Megan & Vincent
Rumors: Brianna & Hunter
Rumors: Allison & Zane
* * *
Imperfect Love Duet
Imperfect Love Story
Imperfect Love Story: New Beginnings
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Stand-alone Novels
Dark Bishop
Dear Maggie
Lucky 13
Waiting on Someday
Always in My Heart
Take A Gamble
Chasing Fate
Sticks & Stones
Caught in the Storm Page 17
