Claimed: The Dark Christmases Trilogy

by Z. L. Arkadie

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he kept his eyes on the road. “He was lying to you, Holly,” he finally said.

  I felt my eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”

  “Arthur can’t hurt me. Showing up at your place and strong-arming you was his attempt to convince you otherwise.” Jasper set his jaw as his narrowed eyes peered ahead. “But you’d be dead now if he could get his hands on you.”

  I took a moment to ponder that. “He could’ve killed me yesterday. What’s changed since then?”

  Jasper glanced at me. I suspected he was impressed that I’d asked him that question, but I knew it for sure when he reached over and gently cupped my cheek. “I missed you last night.”

  “I missed you too,” I said before I could take it back. However, I didn’t want Jasper to skillfully alter our conversation. “What changed?”

  “You first.”

  I turned my head slightly. “Me first?”

  “Why does this Eve woman resemble my sister?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know yet. That’s why we’re on our way to her house. I mean, I could make an educated guess or two.”

  “I’d like to hear them.” He turned down a street lined thickly with trees, their branches intermingling dangerously with the power lines.

  I turned away from the row of weather-beaten houses to eye him incredulously. “You’re diverting the conversation away from the topic again.”

  The GPS announced that our destination was one mile away. Jasper slowed down.

  “I’m not. How I’ve subdued Valentine is a long story. Let’s save it for later. Right now, we have to focus on what’s right before us.”

  I pressed my lips together as I nodded. Once again, he was right. “Okay, but I’ll go talk to her first,” I said, seeing my plan play out clearly in my mind.

  He shook his head adamantly. “I don’t think so.”

  I huffed. He was back to being controlling Jasper, which irritated the hell out of me. “You don’t have all the answers, you know,” I snapped.

  “I understand that,” he said. I found his calm just as irritating as his need to control. “But there’s no way she stays out in the open.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “She’s coming with us.”

  “Us? And where are we supposed to be going?”

  “To a safe place,” he said.

  My jaw dropped, and I was speechless until the GPS announced that we had arrived. I’d already ascertained that a woman who gave us the slip at the grocery store because she figured out we were looking for her was not going to easily give in to Jasper’s control and do what he wanted.

  I forced my gaze off his to focus on the Dutch-style home with snow already coating the roof. A little red compact car without any ice on it sat in the driveway. The vehicle wasn’t collecting snow because it was still warm. That more than likely meant the car belonged to Eve and she was home.

  I was about to insist I go knock on the door—instead of the tall, imposing, and beautiful but very intimidating Jasper—when he squeezed my hand. I looked at him in awe.

  “I want you to know that I hear you, Holly,” he said.

  I frowned. “Huh?”

  “I’ve listened to everything you’ve ever said to me, and I hear you. I should’ve figured out a way to contact you last night and let you know what happened. You matter to me, and I hate hurting you.”

  I studied the lines and turns of his anguished expression, searching for signs of insincerity. My father was a master manipulator when it came to lying and faking feelings of affection as a means to an end. But not Jasper. He meant what he said—I could tell.

  I swallowed, dampening my dry throat. “Thank you.”

  His face came toward mine, and I gave him access to my lips. I moaned as we kissed. The sound came from the depths of my throat. My body was happy to have his warm tongue twisting around mine. My mind drifted off beyond the house and trees and snowfall. I didn’t want our kiss to end, but alas, it had to.

  “Mm…” I said and broke lip contact.

  Jasper smirked. “To be continued.” He winked at me. “You stay put.”

  I quickly reached up and took him by the shoulder. “Wait.”

  His wide eyes asked, What?

  “I still don’t think you going alone is the best idea.”

  He sighed forcefully. “We don’t have time for debate, Holly. I’m going to get her, and she’s coming with us.”

  I tipped my head to the side. “And where are we supposed to be going, anyway?”

  “I told you—somewhere safe.”

  “Be more specific.”

  The door opened, and he set a foot on the pavement. “It’s somewhere you’ll like. I promise. And I’ll be with you.” His eyes smoldered. “We’ll make up for being away from each other last night.”

  What a sexy wink.

  “But for now, stay put.” Jasper turned up the heater and winked at me as he zipped the front of his coat. “Plus, there’s no need for us both to freeze our asses off.”

  Warm air caressed me as I remained trapped in indecision. Jasper quickly exited his comfy vehicle, and I watched him cross the street. I hadn’t recognized how hard it was snowing until that very moment. But Jasper passed through the elements as if he had command of them. Part of me wanted to defy him and run out into the cold to walk beside him. But then the young woman we’d seen working behind the cash register came bolting down the front steps, wearing a silver bomber jacket with a faux-fur-trimmed hood and carrying a strapped bag over her shoulder. She froze when she saw Jasper.

  With one hand on the door handle, I sat on the edge of my seat as I watched him say something to her. She checked over her shoulder as if calculating the distance from where she stood to the confines of her house. Her worried gaze landed on Jasper again. He held up his hands, showing her he was defenseless. That was my cue, and I took it. I opened the door, and as soon as I stepped out of the car, the cold air wanted to freeze my blood. At least I had her attention, though. She watched me curiously as I made my way across the street and stood beside Jasper.

  “Eve, it’s me—Holly Henderson.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Listen…” Jasper said, and I squeezed his arm to silence him. Surprisingly, he adhered to my nonverbal cue.

  “Unfortunately, when someone tells me no, that always means yes.” I showed her a fraction of a smile, but she remained stone-faced. However, she folded her arms, which was my cue to keep talking. “I needed to have a small conversation with you before letting you be, but now that I see you’re the spitting image of his sister”—I nodded in Jasper’s direction while keeping my eyes on her—“who’s a good friend of mine, naturally, we’re beyond curious about who you are. I mean…” I took a few steps toward her, and she didn’t move an inch. That was also a good sign. “Do you know who you are?”

  She frowned as she looked back and forth from one of us to the other, then her expression evened out. “Do I know who I am? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Who are your parents?”

  “I don’t have parents,” she snapped.

  “What about siblings?” I asked quickly in an effort to keep her talking.

  She shook her head.

  “I called you Bryn. Have you ever heard of Bryn Christmas?” I asked.

  “No.” She studied Jasper. “But this girl you’re talking about… she’s his sister?”

  “Yes, she’s my sister,” Jasper finally said. “She’s the spitting image of you. But we can get all of this figured out where it’s nice and warm. I need you to come with us.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. By the look on her face, I could tell that whatever she had to say was going to be cross. However, she was studying Jasper in a very strange manner, as though she had just put the pieces together in her mind. This man standing in front of her was the brother of the woman she resembled,
which meant that the two of them might also be related. And what a beautiful creature he was, not to mention clearly very rich.

  “His name is Jasper Christmas,” I said.

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Okay, but what the hell does that have to do with me?” Her voice trailed off as though she already knew the answer to her question.

  “We don’t have time…” Jasper said.

  I squeezed his solid biceps to silence him. “A source led me to your house in Chattanooga. And Jasper’s father was seen at your place years ago.”

  “Chattanooga? That fucking place isn’t my house,” she hissed.

  I was already pulling up a photo of Randolph Christmas that I had saved on my phone. “May I show you someone? Perhaps you’ve seen him before.”

  Jasper searched impatiently over his shoulder as I approached Eve with the face of my phone pointed at her.

  Eve squinted at the picture of Randolph Christmas, who was grimacing for the camera while descending the courthouse stairs. She took a sharp breath through her nose and frowned at me. “Leave me the fuck alone, the both of you.” She turned her back on us.

  “My father’s dead,” Jasper said.

  She turned around. “He’s your father?”

  “He was my father.” Jasper stepped toward her. “And I know what kind of person he was.”

  She glanced at me then scowled at Jasper. “He’s your sister’s father too?”

  Jasper nodded briskly. “Yes, and my guess is some pretty dangerous people know of your existence. And I have to find out who they are, but one thing I know for sure: you and I were never supposed to meet. I hate to think what would happen to you if they knew we’d met you. That’s why you have to come with me. I will keep you safe.”

  Suddenly, her face soured, and she bent over, clenching her stomach, dry heaving until vomit poured out of her mouth and onto the snow. I rushed over to hold her hair away from her face until she finished. Jasper and I raised our eyebrows at each other. I presumed we were both thinking, Why in the hell is she having such an extreme reaction to the possibility of being Randolph Christmas’s daughter?

  Finally, Eve stood upright and swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she muttered and coughed. “I’ll go with you.”

  Chapter Three

  Eve wanted to make a phone call, but Jasper wouldn’t allow it. He said no calls until we made it to the estate. I could tell she didn’t insist on contacting whomever she wanted to speak to because she liked the sound of going to an “estate.” The place sounded rich, plus Randolph Christmas had groomed his son to be a protector, and that was exactly how being around Jasper made one feel: protected.

  She sat in the front seat, and I in the back. Jasper was on the phone with his personal assistant, Stephanie. He was giving her a to-do list. The items included making room for one more person on the helicopter that was to take us to an undisclosed location, contacting someone named Dr. Kapoor to arrange a DNA test ASAP, preparing a room for Eve, and rescheduling all of his videoconference meetings for Monday the following week. Jasper was then put through to his security, and while he was being briefed, I had to ask Eve a pressing question.

  I shifted to the edge of my seat, wedging my body between the two front seats. “Eve, why such a severe reaction to the photo of Randolph Christmas?”

  “Holly, are you wearing your seat belt?” Jasper asked.

  I could feel the anxiety beaming from him. No, I wasn’t. I blew a sharp breath through my nose as I sat back and buckled up.

  “So, Eve, how acquainted are you with Randolph Christmas?” I sounded irritated because I was.

  “I don’t know that man as Randolph Christmas,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “What do you know him as?”

  “Arthur,” she said.

  Jasper and I caught each other’s gazes in the rearview mirror.

  “Arthur Valentine?” Jasper asked.

  She shook her head emphatically. “No. Just Arthur.”

  It sounded strange that Randolph would go around calling himself Arthur. Perhaps it was his way of pinning his sins on his enemy if he ever got caught slipping in and out of a house where salacious acts were surely taking place.

  But suddenly, another question came to mind. “When you came out of your house, you already had a bag packed. Where were you going?”

  Even though she was silent, I could feel her thinking. I figured she hadn’t expected me to ask that question, even though it was the obvious one to ask. I gave her a few extra moments to come up with an answer. Since it was taking longer than I was comfortable with, I expected her to lie.

  Finally, she turned to face Jasper and stopped gnawing on her bottom lip. “My name is Katie. But I prefer Kat.”

  Jasper flinched as he stole another glance at her and then me. “Yes, I’m still here,” he said to whomever he was speaking to through his earpods.

  “I was told to leave my house if someone ever came looking for Eve.”

  “Leave your house and go where?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I was waiting for someone to call me.”

  “What’s the name of that someone?”

  Again, she bit her lower lip.

  Anxiety raced through my body as I stretched my seat belt as far as I could to lodge myself deeper between the two front seats. “Have you been in hiding?”

  “Fuck!” Jasper shouted. “Sit back, babe. I have to make sure we’re not being followed.”

  Eve’s—Katie’s—eyes expanded. I suspected she was surprised to hear Jasper refer to me as babe. She shook her head frantically. “No, he’s not following us. First of all, he doesn’t have a car.”

  “Who’s he?” I asked, taking advantage of her heightened emotions, which would make her less apt to lie.

  “Zach,” she replied.

  I held on to my seat as Jasper took a sharp right turn down a more residential road.

  “Who’s Zach?” I struggled to say as the top of my body went one way and my lower half the other.

  “He’s my boyfriend.”

  “Are you in hiding, Kat?” I asked again.

  “Then we’re definitely being followed,” Jasper announced, but he directed his words toward his earpods.

  My heart was twisting itself into knots. Jasper kept looking straight ahead. Everything occurring in that moment was competing for my attention. On top of that, my cell phone rang in my purse.

  “Are you, Kat?” I asked more loudly. “In hiding?”

  “Yes,” she snapped.

  Jasper and I glanced at each other through the rearview mirror. The sound of a message being left on my phone filled the silence.

  Jasper had taken the circuitous route. We drove down streets in the different parts of Long Island. Kat confessed that Nel had no idea her daughter, Alexia, was still in touch with her. All of her life, Kat had been held prisoner in the small house in Chattanooga.

  “Did you know your mother?” I asked.

  “I think so. I don’t know…” She went silent for a few beats. “I think Beth was my mom. She was older, but she hardly spoke to me or anyone else. For the longest time, I thought she was mute, but she was just so fucked up that she didn’t like to talk—although, whenever slimy guys came to the house, she pointed forcefully at a crawl space under the floor, telling me to get in there. I think she and I were the only two people who knew it existed.”

  She went on to explain how the secret space led to the woods behind the house. “It was creepy serial-killer shit.”

  Kat would crawl in the dirt with the spiders, mice, and other insects and arrive at a five-by-five dusty space, where she would climb a set of fragile wooden steps to a hatch that opened in the woods.

  I recalled my visit to Chattanooga and remembered the trees behind her old house. Kat said she would roam the woods, contemplating running away forever. However, she didn’t know where to go. She had no education, no money, and—according to Bam, the man who ran the house—no common sense. He
tried to convince her that she was nothing more than a stupid girl whose only value was what was between her legs.

  “But I never believed a damn thing he said, especially that,” she said.

  Once she started talking, it was difficult to get her to stop, which was a good thing as far as journalism was concerned. She was providing answers to questions I hadn’t even asked.

  “It was snowing on the day I met Alexia,” she said. “Beth had just gotten her teeth knocked out by a john, and she was in so much pain…” Kat took a deep breath through her nose. “Anyway, I was sitting against a tree, wearing nothing but a gown. It felt like my blood was frozen. All I wanted to do was die.”

  Then she explained how Alexia had found her in the woods and snuck her back inside of Nel’s house to warm her up and feed her.

  “She asked me a lot of questions I couldn’t answer, like what my name was, how old I was, and where my parents were. I couldn’t even tell her where I lived because I was afraid she’d tell Bam that I’d snuck out of the house. But after my nightgown had dried, she gave me a coat and some shoes, and we promised to stay friends.”

  “How old were you?” I asked.

  “I was fifteen.”

  “And you didn’t know your name?”

  She shook her head. “But I asked Beth if she knew, and she wrote something on a piece of paper, handed it to me, and whispered that I should never let anyone find it. Whenever she talked, she whispered.” Kat said that last part as though it were an afterthought.

  “Humph,” I said. Bryn also whispered a lot—a trait of hers that drove me crazy.

  “Written on the paper was my first name and age,” she whispered, sounding exactly like Bryn.

  I had lots of questions, but one was more pressing than the others. “Were the women and girls who lived in your house prostitutes?”

  She paused, and then her face dropped. “Yeah, they were.” Her voice was barely audible.

  I wanted to ask if she, too, had been a prostitute, but I thought better of it. That was the sort of question a woman asked another woman in private. “Do you know what happened to Beth?” I asked instead.