Heart Ache (Bound by a Touch Novels #1)

by Morgan Kearns

  There he was able to gain vindication. He reveled in the need to wrap his hands around the throat of the person who had taken his beloved Gabrielle, and tightening his fingers until the last breath left their lips.

  Gustav’s hand landed on his shoulder. “I’m going to check the house one more time. Just in case we missed something.”

  They hadn’t missed anything. Nikolai knew it. So did Gustav. But his brother needed to feel useful. Nikolai nodded. “Thanks.”

  Stephon muttered to himself as he walked around the room in search for some kind of clue. His kilt flapped at the ends, his boots clomped on the hardwood floor. Vincent barked demands into his cell phone, ordering a cleaning crew to the office.

  Dammit! Where the hell is she?

  He jumped when his cell phone buzzed. He jerked it out of his pocket, nearly tearing the seam, and held it to his ear.

  “Gabby! Gabby, love, where are you?”

  There wasn’t an answer though and he held the phone away to look at the screen. A podcast was being sent to his phone. His brows pulled together. Worry, dread, and fear all slithered up his spine. His thumb moved over the buttons to retrieve the live feed and his stomach lurched. He roared, causing the other two males to jump.

  “What the hell!” Stephon shouted.

  Nikolai wanted to throw the phone against the wall. Wanted to shatter the image on the screen. But couldn’t bring himself to look away. Gabby was strapped down to a table by the arms and legs.

  The camera angle changed and he could see a close up of her face. Her beautiful face was broken. A trail of blood ran from her misshapen nose, down her face, and into her hair. Her eyes were full of fear, and the moment they looked directly into the camera Nikolai’s heart seized.

  He grabbed at his chest. Gabby hadn’t been away long enough for it to stop beating, but the steady beat only made the ache more prevalent.

  Oh, Goddess.

  The camera angle changed again and showed a straight-razor moving over Gabby’s head, removing clumps of hair. Nikolai sucked in a breath when the blade caught her flesh, making red ooze from the wound. Her mouth opened wide in a scream. Although there was no audio on the feed, he heard it in his soul. His fist tightened on the phone and the case squeaked under the strain.

  “Let me take it,” Stephon said gently. His hand was warm and steady as it eased the phone away from Nikolai. Stephon focused on the phone. “The bastard stays just out of the frame.”

  Niko looked up into the face of the male who was supposed to have fixed this mess, barely able to think past the anger. He lowered his shoulder and barreled into Stephon. The two of them flew back until they met something hard. With knees braced against the floor, Niko straddled Stephon, driving his fists into muscular abdomen.

  “Whoa!”

  Nikolai felt weightless as he was yanked from the gasping male on the floor. He whirled on his brother, ready to take him on. Nikolai felt his eyes flash silver. Gustav hit him like a freight train, driving him back into the wall. Plaster and drywall gave under the impact. Breath rasped from his lungs.

  “Get off me!” He shoved his brother.

  Gustav folded his arms over his heaving chest. “You finished?”

  Niko growled as Stephon got to his feet, the phone still in his hand. The visual confrontation continued, both males staring daggers. Vincent stepped in his line of sight.

  “Fighting with each other won’t solve a damned thing. I know you’re in a bad place, but you’ve got to keep your head on your shoulders, Nik.”

  Niko closed his eyes and sank down onto his haunches, thunking the back of his head against the wall. Wake up, he told himself. Just wake up. Gabby will be by your side. Just open your damn eyes!

  As he struggled to convince himself it truly could be that easy, he heard Gustav curse. Loudly. Stephon must have shown him the feed.

  In that second Nikolai began to pray, like he had never prayed before. To the Goddess, to Gabby’s Christian God, to whatever Higher Power might listen, he prayed.

  Gabby prayed. Silently in her heart, she prayed. It was the only hope she had of drowning out the pain, the hopelessness, the anger.

  “And then—” Natasha laughed, the eerie sound bouncing off the concrete. “—you should have seen the way Jayson’s face fell when I just popped into the room. He thought by slamming the door in my face I would go away. If only it had been that easy for him.”

  The razor moved over Gabby’s scalp catching yet another bit of skin. The sudden burn felt like when she caught the back of her knee shaving, only intensified by a million! She jerked and the blade sliced again, deeper. She ground her teeth and tried to stay as still as she could. She pressed her lips together to swallow her agony. Her screams incited Natasha’s sadistic side, making the slices common and deep.

  She squeezed her eyes closed. Fat tears slipped down her cheeks, filling her ears, and she wanted to curse. Curse her weakness, curse her situation, curse Natasha—straight to hell.

  “I wanted to make it easy on him, since he was a hot piece of mortal. You know, love him before I left him.” Natasha laughed again. “But when he refused, saying he gasped your name … well, I kind of lost it.” She paused then, the razor making a thud as she put it on the little table. She moved into Gabby’s line of sight. Natasha sighed, her chest moving in an exaggerated movement. “It really does get old Gabrielle, everybody thinking you’re all that. We’ll see how things change when I’m done with you.”

  She moved around the table and picked up the razor again. Gabby sank her teeth into her lip and refused to react as the sharp, cold metal slid over the tender hairless scalp. She fought the urge to cry out, clamping her lids down hard. Hot tears slipped over bruised cheeks, and filled her ears.

  “Oh, so I didn’t finish the story. You’re probably dying—” She laughed. “—great choice of word, huh?” She slapped Gabby hard on the forehead. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  Reluctantly, Gabby opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. The satisfaction on Natasha’s face made her stomach roll.

  “That’s better. So there we were. He went on the opposite side of the bed, thinking that would keep him safe. Ha! What a laugh. I leaped over it without even breaking a sweat. His eyes were bugging right out of his head and he kept trying to talk himself out of what he was seeing.”

  A cold cloth was placed against Gabby’s scalp. Her whole body tensed, bowing off the table. Breath hissed from her, she sucked in on a moan.

  “Come now, dear. A little alcohol is best for open wounds.” She patted the cloth, sending more fluid running into the fleshly opened sores. “We wouldn’t want you to get a staph infection. Now shut up and let me finish the story.”

  Tears continued to cloud Gabby’s vision and flow in a steady stream down her cheeks. She fought to choke back the sobs bubbling in her throat. She didn’t want to hear how Jayson died.

  “He tasted so good, like a rich, expensive wine. I nearly drained him too, but needed it to look like an accident. When he slumped, unconscious in my arms, I just dumped him over the banister of the balcony and let the human police think what they wanted.” She shrugged, as if she’d just rid the world of nothing more than a nuisance.

  A sob escaped then. Gabby’s entire body shook with the flood of emotion. She was exhausted, physically devastated and emotionally ravaged. She rolled her head slowly back and forth as she tried to wake herself from the nightmare.

  “You’re so dramatic!” Natasha punched her. Stars shot across her vision and blood flew in every direction. “Now, look what you’ve done.” Natasha smeared the blood droplets on her shirt. “You will pay for ruining my life—and my favorite shirt.”

  A syringe waved in front of Gabby’s eyes.

  “Sleep well, Gabrielle. You’ll need your rest for what happens tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow.

  For some reason Gabby thought of the little red-headed girl and her happy little song, and knew the sun would definitely not come out
tomorrow.

  *****

  Days? Weeks? Months? Years?

  It could have easily been that long since all had seemed normal and wonderful, since Gabby had been safe in Nikolai’s arms.

  She felt anything but safe now. She was scared and alone, and when she reflected on her time as Natasha’s personal punching bag, all she could do was cry. Cry because every inch of her body hurt. Cry because she missed Nikolai desperately, and knew she would probably never see him again. Cry because she was … pissed.

  Hatred seethed as she thought of the things she’d been put through. Even now an IV hung with life-giving blood dripping into her veins to replenish what had made its way to the floor. Natasha had gotten good at sending Gabby to what felt like the brink of death, to drive her to begging for that kind of peace, and then bringing her back to hell.

  The room around her reeked of urine. She was mortified to know it was her own filth she smelled.

  As the door creaked open, Gabby wanted to be brave. She wanted to pretend she wasn’t scared to death. But, just like Pavlov’s dogs, she broke out in a cold sweat. Her blood froze in her veins. She clamped her eyes closed tight.

  Natasha laughed. “Oh, the poor little human is scared,” she mocked. “There’s no need to be frightened of death, my dear. I have no intention—” Her threat was cut off by her ringing cell phone. “Excuse me, please.”

  She walked to a corner and turned her back to Gabby.

  “Hello, dear sister. Everything’s … fine. How is your trip?”

  Gabby made a squeaking sound that was cut off by a hand around her throat. She hadn’t even seen Natasha move. As the fingers tightened and Gabby’s eyes watered, Natasha wedged the phone between her shoulder and cheek and put a single finger to her lips in a shh! motion.

  “That’s too bad,” she said. “So, when are you coming home?” She sounded disappointed. “No, of course I’m glad you’re coming home. I’ve missed you. I’m just sad for you. I know how you were looking forward to the trip and to have it cut short— … Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She closed the phone and slid it into her pocket.

  “Well, damn.” She tapped a potato peeler on her lip, and fear escalated from a simmer to a rolling boil in Gabby’s blood. “I had a lot of plans for you. But it looks like tonight will be your fait accompli. Since you’re an ignorant human, I’ll interpret; this will be your … fate accomplished.”

  Gabby shuddered and nearly threw up. The thought of dying by this woman’s hand was frightening, and knowing it was coming should have been a relief. But it wasn’t. She wanted to live a very long time, loved and protected in the arms of the man she adored.

  “First things first.” Natasha grabbed hold of one of Gabby’s leg, sinking her nails into the skin. “It’s a game of hide-and-seek. Where are you, little mark?”

  She knew what Natasha was looking for, and that she had a potato peeler in hand didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  She jerked the other leg and leaned down to look closely amongst the bruises. Her cold fingers ran over Gabby’s middle, up both of her arms. Then, releasing the bindings on her wrists, she flipped Gabby onto her stomach.

  “Bingo!”

  Before she could move, Natasha had her tied back down, lying on her stomach. It was hard to breathe with the sadistic bitch straddling her back.

  The first slice hurt. The second was excruciating. And the third sent her spiraling into oblivion, her lungs and throat burning from her screams.

  “Why isn’t there any damn audio?” Nikolai shook the phone, hoping the jarring motion would bring about the sound.

  “None’s being sent,” Gustav explained from where he sat at the computer in Nikolai’s home office. He was a wiz with all things technical. “I’ve tried everything and there just isn’t any attached to the feed. I’ve also tried to nail down the IP address, but it keeps revolving. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He shoved his fingers through his light brown hair and went back to typing. “We’ll find her, Niko. I promise, we will find her.”

  Stephon paced the length of the office, continuing to mutter to himself. Rescue plans being hatched and defeated in his slow, methodical rhythm.

  Days had past, and they still weren’t any closer to finding out where the hell Gabby was or who had taken her. The attacker always stayed just on the periphery, careful to keep their identity concealed.

  Niko was exhausted, his heartmate tattoo still burned. He rubbed his hand over his chest. He refused to peel the fabric back and look at the damage. While Gabby’s delicate body had been mutilated he’d felt every slice, his tattoo echoing its injury.

  He hadn’t torn his eyes from the excruciating sight of his heartmate on the little LCD screen. He’d watched every awful second as she’d been stripped to her bra and panties, as her lips and eyes had been stitched shut. He’d been driven to the verge of insanity as tears flowed down her cheeks and pooled in her ears. When gloved fingers had been used to invade her private space, he’d gone nuclear. It’d taken all three of the other males to keep him from destroying his own home.

  His phone and email accounts dinged with messages at the same time; both from undisclosed numbers. Gustav looked up from the PC, and Stephon took the phone from Niko’s tight, frustrated fingers. Stephon glanced at Gustav; they both looked at Nikolai, who nodded. They clicked to open the email and text.

  Nikolai’s breath froze in his lungs while he waited for one of them to speak—or react. Both males remained motionless.

  “What the hell is it?” Nikolai growled, pushing Gustav out of the way. His stomach rolled and his knees gave out. He stumbled. A chair was the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor.

  On the screen was an email from the kidnapper:

  Drip. Drip. Drip. Eight pints go fast.

  You’d better hurry!

  And then it returned to the live feed. One shot showed Gabby naked, completely helpless, strapped down to the table on her stomach. Her shoulder had a brutal wound. The bastard had tried to remove her heartmate birthmark.

  Nikolai wasn’t sure why the sight of her bloody shoulder surprised him. He’d felt every scrape. He’d even screamed, but not from the horrendous pain. He rubbed at the spot on his chest. He wanted to look, but couldn’t bring himself to face what he might find. What if it was gone? What would it mean if it was?

  The camera changed to a wide shot. The whole room was exposed; the table, Gabrielle, her hair still lying on the floor in the midst of all the merciless carnage. He leaned in closer, and his worst fear slammed into him. Her IV wasn’t hooked to anything. Instead her blood trickled through the tube, killing her one lost drop at a time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  This whole situation made Stephon sick. It was nearly unheard of for a female to be kidnapped and tortured the way Gabby was. It had been hard to watch the live feed, but had been excruciating to watch Nikolai’s reactions.

  Guilt ate at Stephon. He’d been hired to do a job. A job he was failing miserably at!

  With one angry swipe of his arm, Nik sent the computer monitor—and everything else on the desk—flying across the room. Papers fluttered to the floor like oversized snowflakes.

  Every male wanted to protect his female, especially if that female was his heartmate. Stephon could only imagine if he was forced to witness it himself with his own heartmate. Goddess, Nikolai was enduring hell.

  Better than I would.

  Just then, as he tried to come up with a way to get Gabby back, Vincent appeared in the office. He looked around the room at the chaos and at Nikolai, who stood with his arms braced against the wall, his head lolling on his neck.

  “Anything new?” Vincent asked Stephon quietly.

  Nikolai didn’t react to the voices or the movement. He was probably so numbly angry he couldn’t even think. Again, understandable. Stephon handed Vincent the cell phone. The message had been added to the rotation of the camera angles.

  Vincent watched in silence as each new pict
ure showed on the screen. He tensed, muscles getting more and more taut with each flicking image. “Oh, sweet Goddess.”

  His face turned an unhealthy green color and he was just handing the phone back when he yanked it back, holding it close to his face.

  “Wait! What the hell does that mea- … Oh, shit!” His black brows pulled together in concentration. His blue eyes narrowed. Then he let out a bark of laughter.

  Nikolai whirled around, and in a flash had the male against the wall with his hand around his throat. “You sonofabitch!” he growled, spittle covering Vincent’s face. “You find something funny about my heartmate’s torture?”

  With a shove, Vincent liberated himself. “Back off, Nik.”

  Niko glared at the other male. Breath sawed in and out of his nose causing his nostrils to flare. His fists clenched at his sides. “You’d better explain yourself, man, ‘cause I’m having a real hard time keeping my hands from beating your face in.”

  “Easy.” Vincent held his hands up in surrender. “That female of yours is a smart one.” He turned the phone around to show them the screen. “Look at her hand. N-I-K-O. It’s American Sign Language. That was the sign for I love you.” He grinned and slapped his thigh with his palm. “That female is one in a million!”

  It took two camera changes before they could see her hand again. “-K-O. I love you. N-A-…” Camera change. “E. See there, she flattens her hand, like she’s starting over. N-I-K-O.” Camera change. “-A-N-A-”

  “Ana? What the hell does that mean?” Frustration bubbled in Stephon’s gut.

  The threat came up again, followed by the flashing images.

  “-T-A-S-”

  The rotating images made it hard to figure out what she was saying. Then the rhythm changed. “H-A-N-A-T-A-S-H-A-N-A-”

  “Natasha!” Nikolai said as if it were a curse.

  Stephon had less than a split second to know what would happen next, but he anticipated correctly. Closing his eyes he landed on the porch in front of Natasha’s house seconds after Nikolai did. He grabbed on to Niko’s arm.