Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  Ana had so many regrets that were piling up. She no longer knew which of them was the worst. Her mind was heavy with images of random moments. Finn’s surprised smile after she healed him. Jon’s wide-eyed panic when she awoke in his house. Oz’s face when he realized what a horrible mistake they had made. And then there is Nicolas. What face will he make when he learns about all the things I’ve hidden from him?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by something entirely unexpected. “Jon,” she whispered. She didn’t have to point; the headlamps were so bright that by the time the vehicle turned to face the house head-on, the entire room was glowing like full daylight.

  Ana set her book aside and jumped out of her seat, but Jon’s hand clamped down firm on her arm before she could go any further.

  “Something’s wrong,” Jon said. His voice was deep, and hollow.

  She wrenched her arm free, but stayed by his side. “Why? He’s home.”

  Jon shook his head, and slowly stood. “Look inside the cabin. There are two heads, not one.”

  Ana squinted and finally saw what he was looking at. “What…” She swallowed. “Maybe he found someone from town, stranded.” His silence told her that he didn’t believe whoever was in Finn’s passenger seat was some poor stranded local. She could not wrap her mind around what kind of danger he could possibly bring back, though. This island was full of people Finn had known his whole life, and it was closed to everyone else.

  They stood together, unmoving, watching in slow motion as the vehicle inched closer to the house. The approach felt like an eternity.

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  “I want you to go upstairs,” Jon said, slowly. “And stay up there.” He moved from her side and went to a cupboard in the kitchen, with Ana on his heels. He pulled out a small box, and inside was a handgun. She could not tell what kind, as she knew nothing about guns.

  “No,” she said. Her eyes were fixated on the gun. She had only ever fired one once, when she was much younger. Her father, seeing how much it bothered her, never took her to the range again. “I don’t understand what has you so worked up Jon, but I’m not leaving.”

  “Please,” Jon pleaded.

  “I don’t understand what is going on in your head!” Her mind held thousands of words swimming around that she wanted to say, needed to say, but all that emerged was nonsense.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Jon chanted and Ana saw he was trembling. The gun was bobbing up and down in his hand. She wanted to reach over and steady it, but she was afraid, and so she watched it continue to bounce around. Hell, she wondered if Jon even knew if it was loaded, or cocked, or whatever the terminology was that made the damn thing ready to fire.

  If it does go off? It’s not like I can save anyone except myself, maybe.

  They stood like that in a deadlock until the sound of the rumbling engine faded, followed by the small cab doors opening and shutting. Feet crunching in the snow. Two pairs. She saw sweat beading at Jon’s brow.

  Ana scanned the kitchen, looking for anything to defend herself with. She pulled the largest knife out of the block. Could she actually stab someone with it? She highly doubted it, but she felt more secure holding something. Who is going to come through that door? For the love of god, this is terrifying and I don’t even know what to be afraid of.

  Their hearts jumped in unison at the sound of the back door opening. Two voices argued, loudly. Jon opened his mouth, then stopped, and put his finger to his lips as he met Ana’s gaze. No shit.

  “We’ll bring the food in later. Go,” she heard a very familiar voice say as a man stumbled forward onto the linoleum in the next room. His wet boots squeaked and the sound was piercing in her heightened state.

  She knew that voice. “Alex,” she whispered, quietly enough that only Jon could hear. He didn’t show surprise. That concerned her almost as much as whatever danger they were in. What the hell is going on?

  Seconds ticked by painfully. Their shadows fell over the kitchen before she saw them emerge, and she heard a small click beside her as Jon raised the gun. I guess that means it’s ready. Is this how things happen in real life?

  Finn stepped into the room first, Alex quickly behind him. Ana’s eyes fell on his gun, which was significantly larger than the gun Jon was holding out in front of him. Jon’s trembling had intensified, his arms now shaking so violently she thought he might fire by accident. He has no idea what he’s doing any more than I do, except he somehow isn’t surprised to see my friendly overseer with a gun to his brother’s head.

  “Jon,” Alex greeted. He was almost as nervous and fidgety as Jon. “Ana,” he then said as he finally noticed her. There was relief in his voice. “Thank God.”

  “Alex, what is going on?” She surveyed the situation again, taking it all in. She still had the knife clutched firmly in her hand, but it was at her side. Jon was to her left, the gun out in front of him, still shaking. Alex was standing behind Finn with his gun trained on Finn, the snow melting and pooling beneath them. Alex was nervous, but he looked far more resolved about what he was doing than Jon did.

  And Finn… his cheeks were flushed, and the snow ran down his bruised, bloody face. My god, what happened to you? His eyes were heavy, with exhaustion, but it was still evident he was happy to see her.

  “I’ve come to get you out of here,” Alex announced. There were no sounds in the house except the dripping of melting snow and the occasional gasping breath from one of them. “To rescue you.”

  “Rescue me?” She laughed, and the hand holding the knife relaxed. She almost cried with relief. This was all a misunderstanding! Alex and Jon could put down their guns, and they could bring in the food and all would be well. “Alex, you can put the gun down. These two saved my life!”

  But Alex didn’t put the gun down. Nor did Jon. Finn’s face remained unchanged. What is it these two know about this situation that I don’t?

  “Stockholm Syndrome,” Alex sighed, shaking his head. “I saw a special about it on Dateline.” He shoved Finn forward into the kitchen, forcing her to step out of the way as they both came further into the light.

  “Alex, I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome. When I say they saved me, I mean they literally saved my life. They found me in the snow outside after I fell and hit my head. I would have died if not for them.” She lifted her hair back to show the wound, but then remembered with a start it was mostly healed. There was only a light scar where there should have been a nasty, healing wound.

  “You poor girl,” he said. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  Ana wanted to scream in frustration. How could he think these two would hurt her? Jon was grumpy, but his job was to heal others, and Finn was the kindest person she had met on the island. I would have described Alex that way too, but apparently I would have been very wrong.

  Neither Finn nor Jon said a word. Was Alex insane? Did he normally do these kinds of things? He had always been so kind, and helpful to her, but clearly neither brother was surprised he had snapped. Finn was frozen in place, and Jon’s hand continued to shake, his face impassive.

  Ana took a very wary step forward. Jon hissed at her to step back, but she ignored him. “Alex, please. I appreciate that you were worried for me, but there’s nothing going on here that need concern you.” She put up her hand with the butcher knife. “Would they let me have this if they were hurting me?”

  Alex flinched and the gun shifted. Finn’s face tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut. Sorry. “False sense of security, child. Notice they didn’t give you the gun?” he remarked, nodding toward Jon.

  “I wouldn’t even know how to use one if they did,” she argued. “This is ridiculous, Alex! I’m telling you, I’m fine!”

  “No, my sweet child, you are not fine. You are not fine at all.” His eyes were boring holes in her, and she realized there was something else different about him. He’s speaking so succinctly now. His voice is confident and his words are clear.

  Finn spoke up
. “Alex, I told you earlier that you should figure out what it is you mean to do with us. You don’t want to hear what we have to say, so I think maybe you need to do what you came to do.” His voice sounded far steadier than his face looked. She realized he had to weather an entire ride back with this man. And more, she thought, eyeing his battered face.

  Jon tensed beside her. Her head was spinning. This is it. Finn invited him to kill us. What if he does? What if he is a remorseless killer? What if he’s not here to save me, but kill us all? What if he kills one of the brothers? Will I have to stand there and watch them bleed to death on the floor, unable to do anything?

  Nicolas, I want Nicolas.

  * * *

  51- ALEX

  You had the balls to start this Wexie Wooooo. You better find the balls to finish it.

  No, I was doing the right thing. I didn’t set out to hurt anyone.

  Stupid, idiot, weak boy. When you put a gun to someone’s head, someone has to die. You saying you’re ready to die?

  No. No one has to die. I will just take Ana and leave.

  And go where prissy boy? Laughter. The second you head out the door, they will be after you. Did ya forget the snow around you, and the fact that the only vehicle available is something a pansy little shit like you don’t even know how to drive?

  So what do I do then? Shoot them both?

  Do you see another way out of this, you worthless little shit? She’s sympathizing with the two men who have been keeping her hostage, and she ain’t gonna leave willingly. They not only have a gun but it’s out, in that sissy vet’s hands, probably loaded. Finn is a strong kid... would have made a finer son than you. You won’t get two steps before one or both of them takes you down, if you try to flee with her. Notice who her knife is pointing at now? That ungrateful little bitch would kill you too if she had the chance...

  The light in the room was blinding him. Everything was flowing in and out of focus with his heartbeats, each thump causing the room to wash in bright light. Ana was breathing heavily, and yes, the knife was now aimed at someone: him. Jon and Finn were saying something, but Alex wasn’t listening. He needed silence to think and they wouldn’t shut up…

  “Alex, put down the gun.” Ana was talking to him now. In his mind, he heard the girls laughing at him. All of them. When he had asked them out, and then when he had actually been trying to do right by them.

  Carla Edgewater. He loved her. He followed her, everywhere. He wanted to learn her patterns and her likes so he could know more about her, so he could surprise her. He knew she liked cherry cola from the soda fountain, and that she listened to classical music when no one was watching, dancing to it in her room by moonlight. He knew that once he came to her and told her all he had learned, she would see what a devoted boyfriend he could be. Did it matter he was almost twenty years her senior? She would see how much he adored her, and how he would do anything to please her. How observant he was. She would forget about that cad Lionel Shepherd.

  That night he had followed her all the way up to the lighthouse. I’ll tell her now. She’s alone and the stars are so beautiful tonight. Then he had shown up, and ruined it. Alex watched as Lionel pushed her clothes aside, and Carla was moaning, in pain, lying back against the steel grates with her legs spread as Lionel went to violate her. Alex had come up behind them at just the right moment and shoved Lionel off the edge, between a gap in the railing. Lionel tipped right over, and as he did, his face rolled upward and he looked confused for a moment. That look froze on his face forever as he smashed into the rocks below.

  Carla started screaming then, and wouldn’t stop. She was backing away from him across the deck, her canary yellow sweater unbuttoned, her breasts bouncing in the cold air. Her skirt was still hiked up, and he could see her lady parts in between the soft white skin of legs and her knee socks. Alex could hardly hear her cries above the fierce whipping of the wind. He kept saying It’s okay, I’m here for you! but that made her scream more and more and more until Alex’s head swam with a blinding light and his heartbeat was throwing everything into whitewash. Minutes later, when Alex could feel his heartbeat slowing again, and the world come back into focus, he first saw the empty deck before him, then felt the ache creeping into his fists. Peering over the edge, he finally saw what remained of Carla Edgewater’s broken, twisted body. It lay next to Lionel’s, the corpse bride and groom.

  Alex had run then, and kept running until he was far enough away. Once he found a safe place, he cried and cried, rocking himself in the comfort he remembered from his mother before she had given up on helping herself. Why did Carla have to go and do that? Why did she not understand how much he loved her? He had saved her from Lionel’s pawing, and she had taken the side of the person who had been trying to hurt her. He only wanted to dance with her to classical music by moonlight. How could she turn on him?

  He could not save someone who did not wish to be saved, but he could at least save her from herself. Carla was in a better place now, where God could teach her the lessons in kindness and love that she had been unwilling to learn from Alex.

  She was just like Alex’s mother, and he had set them both free.

  Then there had been the girl in the bar, Sandra Finnerty, and that widow from church, Emily Caldwell. Alex wanted so badly to go to the funerals of these women and tell the family he had tried. Lord Almighty above, how he had tried. No one could say Alex Whitman had not tried.

  As he had tried when Ana fell into his charge. She was alone, new to the island, and such a nice girl. Unlike the other girls, he saw himself more as her custodian than her protective lover. But it hadn’t taken long at all before he felt that familiar throbbing in his temples, the blinding white, and the feeling—that insistence—that this was another one he needed to help. No one but him could do it. The system would fail her just like it had failed his mother, and the other women, and that knowledge burned deep within his soul. He had accepted his calling a long time ago, even if the price was sometimes a cross too heavy to bear.

  Ana was still pleading with him to stop, to leave them alone. Just like Carla. Just like Sandra. Like Emily. Like mother...

  * * *

  52- OZ

  Oz had known from the beginning he would have to tell Nicolas about the situation with Ana. He had also known that Nicolas would not be happy about it. But he had not expected the rage. And he definitely hadn’t expected the broken nose. Oz had somehow managed to go his whole life without ever being punched in the face. Now he could say with certainty that it hurt like hell.

  He had never seen Nicolas so angry, but it was that moment of calm, before they left the house, that stuck with Oz. We’re going to suck it up and finish this.

  There were a thousand things Oz wanted to say to Nicolas—a thousand apologies, a thousand explanations—but Oz knew this was not like other arguments they had over the years, where Nicolas would pout or throw a fit and ignore him for a few hours. Nicolas had very calmly called Oz a worthless human being, and then pulled himself together so that he was more calm, and rational, than Oz had ever seen him. We owe it to her. You really owe it to her.

  This isn’t only about Ana. Nicolas needs me. He’s never needed me before, but he’s always been there when I needed him.

  When Adrienne went missing, Oz cut Nicolas out of his life. The one person who had supported him in this was also the one person he could not bear to face upon losing everything. Although they reconnected when Adrienne returned, there was always a part of their bond that had never truly repaired. Oz wasn’t even sure if it needed to be, or if it was like a ring in a tree trunk; one event or step in their long lives and long friendship. He owed something big to Nicolas, some gesture to even the score. Nicolas did not hold a grudge, but Oz felt the burden of a debt unpaid. He might hold a grudge this time.

  And then there was Adrienne. Nicolas joked that Oz had a hero complex that simply must be satisfied, but the jab had some truth to it, didn’t it? In Adrienne, he had always seen a
damsel in distress. She had been a woman trapped in a girl’s body, with the mind of a genius and the aspirations of a prodigy. He wanted to remove her from the world she had grown up in and show her the bigger world she so desired. His goal was always simply to love her as she deserved to be loved. But how much of that was real and how much of it had he created to exonerate himself from being in love with a teenage girl when he was a man grown?

  Yet, Nicolas’ rage had not been for his wronged sister. You mean Adrienne, right Nic? Oz had challenged, but he dared say no more. Oz had always wondered about the deeper nature of Nicolas’ feelings for his cousin, but he had never, ever spoken a word about it. Maybe he truly doesn’t know.

  Oz had to fix this for his friend, like Nicolas had helped him fix things. It would be the only way Oz could forgive himself, for both his treatment of Nicolas and his treatment of Ana. He may never forgive me, but I love him as a brother, and I will make this right, somehow.

  He had a sinking feeling that Ana was not okay, and they were already too late.

  They were standing outside the neighbor’s large house, near the kitchen. It faced east, toward Ana’s, and had several very large windows, through which Oz could see figures moving around.

  “Stop,” Oz said and put his arm out. “Look.”

  They both looked, and what they saw left them speechless. Ana was standing in the middle of the floor, holding a knife out toward a man who was holding a shotgun to another man’s head. Aimed at the man with a shotgun was another man holding out a handgun.

  “Is this real?” Nicolas asked.

  “It’s some sort of Mexican standoff,” Oz noted, trying to make sense of the scene before them.

  Oz heard the questions neither of them was voicing. What do we do? Do we go in there and try to take them down? Do we try to get ahold of the authorities, even though the roads are down? Do we sneak in, or go in loud? Do we stand here with our mouths gaping open?