Beneath These Scars

by Meghan March

  “Does he hit you?” The question was out before I could weigh whether asking it was a good idea.

  She raised her chin. “Jay would never hurt me. I would never give him a reason to.” Glaring, she added, “Unlike some people.”

  Oh, this again. The idea that I’d been abused because it was somehow my fault. Awesome. Glad we were still on that. Fuck her.

  “Does he know you blew up my apartment? Does he know what you’re doing right now?”

  She laughed, and the sound sent ice water trickling down my spine. “Men don’t need to know every little thing, silly girl. And this is for his own good. You know why? Because once he sees your name on a tomb, he’ll never worry about you again.”

  “Aren’t you afraid he’ll despise you forever if he knows you hurt me?” It was a crazy assumption, but maybe if she thought he was still in love with me, then he wouldn’t want her to hurt me. And I was desperate.

  “He loves me. He’ll thank me someday.”

  I tried a different tack. “I think you’re miscalculating. Jay doesn’t want me back. And if anything, he’d want to hurt me himself. So you’re taking away something he’d prefer to do. How is that fair?”

  It was the sickest and most messed-up argument I could offer, but again—desperation.

  “Then maybe I’ll never let him find out what happened to you.”

  “You think he’ll just stop wondering if I go missing? You don’t think that’s going to make him even more likely to keep looking for me? This isn’t going to work out how you planned, Jennifer. I promise.”

  She came closer and lowered her face into mine. “It’s going to work exactly how I planned, and he’ll never know any different.”

  The sound of gravel crunching in the driveway out front got our attention. My stomach churned again.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Her head jerked up. “It’s not him—” The sound of a mechanical motor droned from a distance.

  The garage door. It was him.

  I never thought I’d be happy to see Jay Haines again, ever, but I was hoping and praying it was him. Anything to buy me enough time to try to get away. Even if it was my worst nightmare come to life.

  Jennifer dropped a hand to her hip, looking put out and maybe the slightest bit panicked. “He’s not supposed to come home for a few more hours.”

  “Looks like you’re going to have some explaining to do.”

  A door opened somewhere in the house and heavy footsteps thudded on the wood floor. I braced myself for the first sight of my ex-husband in years.

  My heartbeat ramped up as he crossed into the parlor. He was still tall with blond hair, but was now about fifty pounds heavier—and none of it muscle. His blue eyes landed on me, and his rounded face pinched with confusion.

  “Yve?”

  “Hey, Jay. How’s it going? Glad you found a new friend while you were in prison.” Where the lady balls came from for me to toss those words out in that joking tone, I’ll never know.

  His eyes snapped to Jennifer. “Jenny, what’s going on? What are you doing?”

  She tucked the knife behind her back, and her words came out in a tone that was nothing like the one she’d used with me. “She came after me; you have no idea how scared I was. I had to protect myself.”

  A bark of laughter escaped my lips. “That’s your story? That I came after you? Not that you’ve been stalking me, breaking into my apartment, leaving threatening notes on my mirror, and oh—blowing up my apartment and then luring me here to kill me? I’m sure he’s going to buy it.”

  Jay looked just as confused as ever. “What is she talking about, Jenny? You’d never do anything to hurt Yvie. You know that she’s—”

  “Your past! She’s your past, and I’m your future! She’s nothing. I’m the only one that matters!”

  And the train had officially pulled into Crazy Town.

  Jay came closer, and it was more than ironic that at this moment, I was looking at him as if he might save me, and at a tiny little blonde like she was the biggest threat in the room. But that would be a mistake.

  “How’ve you been, Yvie?”

  The fact that Jay could start a regular conversation with me while I was duct-taped to a chair was just one more sign that he wasn’t altogether there either.

  I swallowed. I really didn’t want to have this conversation, but I didn’t want whatever the alternative was even more, because I doubted it involved me walking out the door unharmed.

  He circled me before crouching near my feet. “You answer me when I ask you a question, Yvie. You can’t have forgotten our rules already.”

  All the memories of pain and shame flooded me.

  Jay’s fucking rules. There were so many. Always changing, so they were impossible to keep track of or get right. Toward the end, it was a rare day when I could make it through without tripping over some unknown rule I was supposed to be following.

  Every old scar and injury seemed to light up in ghosting pains, as if they knew what was coming. My ribs, my collarbone, my left arm, the fingers of my right hand, and countless others. I straightened, locking it all down. I was no longer a victim. I would not cower in front of him like a dog.

  “I’m great, Jay. Just great. And my boyfriend is going to kick your ass when he finds out that your fiancée tied me to a chair.”

  It was the first time I’d ever referred to Lucas as . . . anything, really. But in that moment, thinking of him gave me strength.

  It was the wrong move.

  “Boyfriend? You’re still my goddamned wife. I don’t care what the goddamned papers say. You belong to me.” His hand swung out and caught me high on the cheekbone.

  Shock—at being hit again for the first time in so long—radiated through me before the pain registered.

  “What the hell?” Jennifer’s screeched words pierced my ears. “I’m going to be your wife. She means nothing!”

  Jay swung around to face her, and I couldn’t help but watch. She was gesturing with the knife.

  Oh hell.

  “What do you think you’re going to do with that, Jenny? What did you think you were going to do with that?”

  “I’m just doing what I had to do.”

  Jay’s lungs heaved and he lost it. He charged the skinny little blonde and ripped the knife from her hand. It clattered to the floor and skidded within inches of my feet as his hand wrapped around her neck and he lifted her off the floor.

  Oh shit. I was not here to die, and I certainly wasn’t here to witness a murder. Jay had caused enough damage.

  I reached with the tip of my purple pump and slid the knife closer. How the hell do I get it off the floor? Then I slid my feet together and tried to lift, but the knife dropped to the floor again with another thump. This shit looks so much easier in the movies.

  My ridiculous thought was interrupted by someone banging on the door.

  Jay tossed Jenny onto the couch. “Don’t you dare move, Jen.”

  The blonde looked shell-shocked, her face pale, her hair mussed, and her tears leaving mascara-blackened trails down her cheeks.

  He really hadn’t hit her before. The first time was always the most shocking.

  I eyed the knife on the floor again. The man was never going to hit anyone again.

  GRAVEL FLEW, PINGING OFF THE panels of my car, but I didn’t give a fuck. I’d called and called, and Yve never answered. I’d tried to tell myself that it was a lack of reception out here, but my phone worked perfectly, so that excuse fell flat.

  I roared up the driveway and pulled the car to a jerky stop, then jumped out and leaped up the front steps. I turned the door handle, but it was locked, so I hammered on the solid wood with my fist.

  Footsteps thudded inside, and the door was ripped open.

  A younger version of Johnson Haines stood before me. I didn’t think—I didn’t have to—I just swung, the moves from my boxing lesson coming into play, along with a few dirty ones of my own. Right hook to the jaw
, uppercut, knee to the gut. He hit the hallway floor and instantly rolled onto his side in a protective ball.

  I was on him again in seconds. Flipping him over, I dropped to my knees and wrapped my hands around his throat.

  He would die.

  A scream ripped my attention away from the man beneath me.

  “If he dies, she dies.”

  I glanced to my left to see a tiny blonde holding a knife to Yve’s throat where she sat taped to a chair in the middle of the parlor. Haines groaned below me, but I didn’t take my eyes off Yve. She opened her mouth to speak, but the blonde pressed the blade harder until a rivulet of blood ran down Yve’s neck.

  I released my grip and Haines jumped up, landing a blow to my cheek before I could react. All I could see as I swung at him was the blood dripping down Yve’s throat.

  Rage, helplessness, and disbelief like I hadn’t felt since I was on the side of that mountain at eighteen slammed into me. The rope had been fraying, and I’d had seconds to grab it, but if I did I’d likely fall to my own death.

  It had been an impossible choice—risk my own life, or my father would die. The man who’d verbally abused me all my life; the man I was never good enough for. I hesitated a second too long, and when I’d lunged for the rope, it had been too late.

  I’d had to live with the regret of that moment haunting me for years. If I had to live with regret over Yve, I . . . Well, it wasn’t an option. I’d choose her life over mine every time.

  Because I loved her.

  I shoved Haines away from me and stood, holding my arms out. “I’m done. Don’t hurt her.”

  He jumped to his feet. “You’re gonna die.”

  Except if I was dead, I’d be leaving her at their mercy, and that would be a fate worse than death for Yve. So, Titan, what the fuck are you going to do? my brain taunted me.

  So I did what came naturally to me—I went for the cheap shot.

  Haines lunged at me, and I rammed my knee into his balls a dozen times harder than I had with Con Leahy. Fighting over the loss of Vanessa, trying to save face, was nothing compared to this.

  Yve was worth more than my pride. She was worth everything.

  Haines hit the ground again, and I landed a solid kick to his face. His nose crunched and his head lolled to the side.

  Yve screamed.

  I charged the woman, but it was too late. She’d sliced the knife across Yve’s throat and lifted the blood-coated blade, as if to stab it straight into Yve’s chest.

  I dove at the woman, tackling her. Her head whacked the floor, and she didn’t move. Scrambling to my knees, I slid in front of Yve. Her eyes were still open and tears spilled down her cheeks. Terrified at the blood seeping from the cut on her neck, I ripped my shirt off and pressed it to her throat.

  Yve laughed through her tears. “I’m not gonna die. It’s not deep enough. She’s a pansy-ass bitch.”

  “Shut up, Yve.”

  I lowered the shirt, then gripped the tape with both hands, tearing it apart to free her. The front door flew open and Jerome slid to a halt in the foyer. Gun drawn, he spied us both.

  “Oh, thank God,” he said. “I heard the scream and—”

  Haines—like the goddamn killer in a horror movie—surged up from the floor, wrapped both hands around Jerome’s legs, and yanked his feet out from under him. Jerome went down, his skull cracking against the tile, and the gun landed between Haines and me.

  We both dove for it but I was faster—because I’m Lucas Fucking Titan and this was the fight of my life.

  I didn’t hesitate this time. I pulled the trigger three times, aiming for Haines’s heart, and he never took another breath.

  “I warned you,” the blonde screamed.

  Fuck me. Why couldn’t they just stay down?

  Again she had the knife to Yve. This time, pressing it into her side.

  I lifted the gun and aimed. She ducked behind Yve, using her as a human shield.

  “Shoot her, goddamn it,” Yve yelled.

  The choice lay before me, but this time it wasn’t her life or mine.

  “No fucking way. I’ll hit you.”

  A maniacal laugh bounced through the room. “She’s gonna die either way.”

  “I’m nobody’s victim,” Yve said, her words a vow.

  Her left elbow flew backward, and she grabbed the blonde’s arm and twisted. The knife hit the floor, and the woman screamed. I was on her in less than a second, dragging both hands behind her back. She snapped her teeth like a feral dog, and Yve, gripping her side, spun.

  “Where’s the goddamn duct tape?”

  I saw it on the coffee table. “There. Behind you.”

  Yve grabbed it, ripped off a piece, and slapped it over the woman’s mouth. Ripping off another section, she wound it around the woman’s arms, taping them together from just above the elbows and down to the wrists.

  “We’ll see how she likes that.”

  A moan from the foyer had both our heads turning.

  “Jerome!”

  I tossed the woman on the couch and we both ran to him. Blood pooled around his head on the floor, but he wasn’t dead.

  I palmed my phone from my pocket and dialed Hennessy. He could probably get an ambulance here faster than 911.

  He answered on the first ring.

  “I need an ambulance. Texting you the address now. Make it fast.”

  “No body bags?”

  “Bring one of those too.” I hung up and texted the address I’d memorized in the agonizingly long ten minutes it had taken me to get here.

  Yve was at Jerome’s side, wrapping the shirt I’d tossed at her around his head. She looked up at me, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “He’s gotta be okay.”

  I would have told her anything to get her to stop crying. Gritting my teeth, I said, “He’s going to be fine.”

  She blinked and nodded. “You came for me.” Her voice was small and hesitant.

  “Always.”

  MY NECK BURNED FROM THE superglue the ER doctor had used to close the cut Jennifer had given me, and my side twinged as the anesthetic wore off from the stitches it had taken to close the spot where she’d tried to gut me.

  My instincts about her had been right. Crazy bitch. Hennessy had taken her into custody when he’d arrived on the heels of the ambulance—and the coroner.

  Lucas and I were sprawled on an extra bed he’d requested in Jerome’s private hospital room. Conscious of my injuries, he wasn’t wrapped around me, but he hadn’t yet let go of my hand, even in sleep. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm that I took comfort in.

  Jerome groaned from the bed next to us, and I jumped up to check on him. Lucas didn’t move. I leaned over the old man, my heart aching at the sight of the bandages wrapped around his head.

  “What’s wrong? Do you need the nurse?”

  His eyes fluttered open and the faded blues locked on me. He had a major concussion for sure, and the ER doc had requested that he stay overnight for observation. The old man was tough and had refused, but Lucas had overruled him.

  “I’m fine. And you? You’re still okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m good.”

  His eyes shifted to Lucas. “And my boy?” It was the first time I’d heard him refer to Lucas in such a way.

  “He’s . . . good.”

  “He took a life. That never gets easier,” Jerome said. “He still carries the guilt from the last time, and God knows that was an accident. Even if he believes he killed his father.”

  The breath caught in my lungs. “What?” I whispered.

  Jerome nodded. “It’s not my place to tell you the story, though.”

  Lucas’s voice cut through the rhythmic beeping in the room. “You already started, old man. Might as well tell her the whole sordid tale, because I did kill him.”

  I turned to look at Lucas. “Wha—”

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, dropping his elbows to his knees and his face into his hands. “I killed
him. I didn’t save him, and I could have.”

  The story poured out of Lucas. “My father was a brilliant, crazy-as-fuck R&D director. Think Steve Jobs, but with more screws loose. He pioneered technology decades before its time. He’s the one who got me interested in science and business. But he only understood the science side of the house, and not business.”

  Lucas looked up, revealing the torment on his face. “Learning from him, I developed a concept that he called stupid, ridiculous, and idiotic—and he called me all the same things. But it wasn’t, and I wasn’t. I knew it then, and I know it now. It’s what I’ve been working so hard to launch. I’ve been working on it since I was sixteen. He was a perfectionist, driven to extremes in every area of life. No one was safe from his scrutiny. He could invent beautiful technology, but with people, he only knew how to destroy.”

  When he paused for a moment, I sat on the bed beside him and wrapped my hand around his arm. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  Lucas turned his gaze on me, his eyes hard, colder than I’d ever seen them. “This is the only way you’ll understand when I say I’m not a good man, I’m telling you the truth.”

  Jerome spoke. “Maybe you should take this somewhere private, because I’m going to want to interrupt with the facts, as you clearly don’t understand the truth of the matter.”

  Lucas shoved to his feet, and I dropped my grip on him. “The truth is that I baited him that day. I told him he couldn’t climb that peak, that he was too old. He’d been livid. Backhanded me. When he’d carried gear to the car, I’d known that the day would change everything—because I was going to show him that there was something I could do that he couldn’t. His competitive streak wouldn’t allow him to quit.” His jaw ticked as he clenched it. “Neither of us should have been up there that day. I was so far beyond my ability, it was an accident waiting to happen.”