by K. D Clark
“Get on your knees! Hands in the air,” An FBI agent shouts.
Miles turns his head, and that’s when he sees me. My lips twist into a grin.
“You mother fucker,” Miles spits before grabbing the nine-mm from the holster at his back. Two shots ring out, hitting Miles directly in the chest. A look of shock crosses his face before his body hits the pavement.
The agents rush to apprehend Miles’s team. Miles is left lying on the ground, gasping for air. I stand over him with a smile on my face.
“I’ll see you in hell.”
Chapter Seven: Love Cures
Hazel
I’m awake, but I don't want to open my eyes. The strong smell of cleaning supplies and the soft sounds of machines tell me I’m in a hospital. The bed underneath me isn’t comfortable, but it is better than the cold concrete floor I’ve been sleeping on for however long. There weren’t any clocks in the dungeon Miles had kept me in, so I had no sense of time. It could have been weeks or months.
Memories of the door being kicked open, and someone carrying me in their arms fills my mind. The memories are blurry at best. The memories I wish I could forget are clear as day. The black box devoid of light. The reek of death. Because that place I’d been trapped in, that hellhole, was where Miles had brought his enemies. He used it to torture them for information or to execute them.
Some days, I’d crawled across the floor just to keep my eyes from closing. I faded in and out of consciousness from lack of food. I used a dirty nail, in the beginning, to try and tally the number of days I’d been imprisoned. I woke up one day to find Miles hovering over me, his body drenched in sweat, and my legs open. I cried a thousand tears, but eventually, my heart just shut down.
“Hazel?”
The sound of Maverick’s voice comforts me. I’ve wanted to hear that voice for so long. I saw him weak, bleeding out on the floor of his own home. There was so much blood. It was silly. To dream that Maverick was alive and would save me again. He barely knew me, yet I’d held on to hope.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice holding the same amount of pain I feel inside.
I slowly open my eyes, wincing at the bright lights. I can only open them halfway because it hurts, but I’m able to make out Maverick’s form. He’s sitting on a chair, hunched over the bed as if his body is too tired to sit upright.
“Maverick,” I say quietly.
He sits up straight, and I can see the dark circles under his eyes. My protector. My shield.
“Oh, Maverick! I thought something happened to you. I’m so glad to see you.” The tears are stuck in my throat.
“You’re free now.” The intensity and sheer determination in this man’s tone let me know I’m in good hands. Silent tears of joy stream from my face like rivers. Maverick stands from the chair and wipes the tears away with his sleeve.
“The things he did to me, Maverick… He...he…” The tears that were stuck now come flowing out. Holding my hand tightly, Maverick wipes my tears away.
“It’s okay, Hazel. He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s gone now. I swear to God. He can’t touch you. Ever.”
“But...but...he was drunk one night and came into my cell and he...”
My stomach heaves with grief as I struggle to tell him the ugly truth. He closes his eyes. I know he doesn't want to hear it, but I feel the need to tell him.
“It’s okay… I’m here now, and no one will ever hurt you again,” He says. He understood. He did his best to console me. But it’s a wound so deep I realize I may never fully recover. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even walk when I was taken into the hospital. Who knew if I could even walk now?
I lean my head against Maverick’s shoulder and breath in his scent. He smells so clean and fresh. I want to curl up next to his side and tell him how grateful I am. He’s saved me twice now, and I will never be able to repay him. Why did he save me? He could have turned his back both times. His life would probably be a lot easier if he left me alone.
“Why did you come back for me?” I ask, lifting my head to look into his eyes.
His brows furrow together. “No one deserves to be treated like that, Hazel. Miles has hurt a lot of people. It was time for him to die.”
“He’s dead?” I ask.
Maverick nods.
I cast my eyes down to the white sheets of the hospital bed. My husband is dead. It’s hard to wrap my brain around everything. What happened to the man I had married all those years ago? How can someone turn so evil and hard? I guess it goes to show you never really know somebody. If I’d known the kind of monster Miles was, I would have never got involved with him. I’m just grateful we were never able to have kids together. It would only make this whole situation much more complicated.
A single tear rolls down my cheek. The tear isn’t for my dead husband. If anything, I feel relief that he can never come after me again. The tears are because I need to grieve my own mistakes and accept the fact that I choose a man that, in the end, only wanted to cause me pain.
“The doctor says you will need to stay here one more day. They want to make sure your body is absorbing all the fluid and nutrients before they release you,” he says.
“And then what?” I ask quietly. “Go back to Miles’s mansion?”
It’s technically mine now since I’m his widow, but I can’t go back there. I never want to see that mansion again. I’ll sleep on a park bench before I step a foot inside that house.
“You’re coming home with me,” he says. It’s not a question.
A nurse walks into the room with a bright smile on her face. “Looks like someone’s awake,” she says. She looks almost too young to be a nurse with blonde hair pulled back tight in a ponytail.
“Yep,” I say, trying to match the level of excitement in her voice but failing miserably.
Her face is full of too much makeup for someone who runs around, taking care of sick people. She grabs my chart, reading through everything before she changes out my IV bag.
“Are you feeling any pain? Do you need more pain medication?”
The pain I feel isn’t physical. “I’m okay, thank you.”
“If you change your mind, you can always press the nurse’s button, and I’ll bring you some.”
She turns to walk out of the room, but not before I notice the way her eyes linger on Maverick. Now I understand the makeup caked on her face—my stomach twist with a knot of jealousy. I have no reason to be jealous. I have no claim over Maverick; he can fuck anyone he wants. But it still makes me feel like shit as I lay in the hospital bed, probably looking like I got run over by a truck while nurses have probably been flirting with him since I got here. I have much bigger problems to worry about than who Maverick chooses to sleep with.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask Maverick.
He fills me in on what happened after Miles took me, how he’s had to recover from the gunshot wound in his chest. How he came up with the plan to get Miles arrested, but it had ended in his death. It was a lot to take in, and by the time he finished, my body was physically exhausted.
“Go to sleep, Hazel,” he says, noticing my eyelids getting heavy. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”
I remained in the hospital for a few more days. My body had issues absorbing all the nutrients it needed, so I couldn’t leave the next day. The investigation continued regarding Miles’s trafficking ring. The news of his arrest and subsequent death made national headlines, especially as many prominent leaders were implicated in the investigation. Maverick was able to clear his name due to the enormous bribes he’d paid to high-ranking officials.
Meanwhile, my discharge from the hospital came around soon enough. Maverick had stayed by my side the entire time. He had people drop off clothes for him and anything else we might need.
As I sit on the edge of the bed, Maverick comes close and stops in front of me. His eyes are filled with patience and the kind of hope I can’t seem to muster. I’m thankful for him. He probed
my eyes with his.
“Listen,” he whispers, “You don’t have to decide everything at this moment. Just come home with me. Stay in that same guest room. No pressure. Take your time to decide how you want to move forward. I want to be here for you. That’s all. Plain and simple. It doesn’t have to be about us right now, just about you. I won’t pressure you about anything. Just take a breath and relax for a while.”
I nod in agreement. “That sounds nice, Maverick. Thank you.”
That all I wanted. Fragments of my soul have been taken, and I need time.
The nurse whizzes in with a wheelchair. He hands me the discharge papers and a prescription for pain. Maverick gently accepts the reins of the wheelchair, pushing me along the corridor. The driver of a cream-colored Mercedes opens the door for me. Still somewhat weak, I lean on Maverick to climb into the back seat of the car. He thanks the nurse, giving him a handsome tip, and gets in on the other side of the vehicle.
“Take us to the airport, please.”
The driver takes us to a small airport on the island where Maverick’s private jet awaits us. I timidly boarded the plane, looking back at the ocean and exhaling. I hope I can leave the toxic memories behind
I sleep the entire plane ride until I’m woken up by the landing. Maverick’s mansion comes into view. Last time, I missed the fact that he had a private runway on his estate. Any signs of the war on his property a few weeks ago aren’t evident. He leads me to the guest bedroom and gives me space.
*****
I open my eyes to see darkness. Nothing. I try to move my body, but it's like I’m being held down. What the fuck is going on? I focus all of my energy on moving, but I can’t even lift my pinky finger. That’s when the smell hits my nose. The dungeon. The smell of a wet basement. The small sound of rats sniffing around on the floor. I try to scream, but it's like the words are stuck in my chest. My heartbeat picks up. How did I get back here? I was safe. Small light starts to stream into the room. Miles is standing in the doorway with a smile on his face.
I gasp awake, feeling like my heart is about to explode out of my chest. Maverick’s wide eyes meet mine.
“Hey, it's okay. You’re here with me.”
The lights in my room are on, and the door is wide open as if he’d rushed inside. Had I woken him? My body is drenched in sweat as if I’d just gone for a run. It takes a few minutes for me to recover enough to speak.
“I thought I was back.”
I don’t need to elaborate. He nods his head in understanding.
“Shh lay down. I’m right here.”
I didn’t think I’d ever be able to fall asleep after a dream like that, but as he wraps his arms around me, my eyes start to drift close.
I didn't leave that room for a week. I tried. I did want to join Maverick for dinner every time he asked me to, but I had no motivation to talk to anyone. The thought of climbing the stairs down to the dining room exhausted me.
Maverick did what he says he would. He didn't pressure me and gave me my space. The man was a saint. I saw who he really was. This man went to bat for me; he put his life on the line. Nobody had ever done that. Nobody at all. When I yelled in the night from the flashbacks and nightmares, he came. When I broke down as I recalled Miles covering my mouth and violating me with rats crawling in the background, he held me. He rocked with me and soothed me back to sleep. When I lashed out in anger at him for being kind, he wrapped me up in his arms. This man was a fucking saint. He was in pain himself. The carnage on his property. The dead souls. I did this. I caused this. If it weren’t for me, this shit wouldn’t have happened. I wanted to make the pain stop. I wanted Miles’s voice to stop. The noise. The excruciating penetration as he grunted on top of me. The dungeon walls that caved in on me. My heart was in agony. I wondered if I would ever be whole again.
One week turned into two, and in the third week, Maverick finally had enough.
“We’re going out,” he says, coming into my room fully dressed in dark jeans and a button-up shirt. His muscles flexed underneath as he opens my closet door and steps inside.
“I don’t-”
“It wasn’t a question,” he snaps. I widen my eyes, taken back by his tone. He’s been so gentle and caring these past weeks. He came back out of the closet with a blue sundress in his hand. He tosses it on the bed.
“Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” He turns and walks out the door, leaving me in shock. What the hell has gotten into him? He’s probably tired of my moping around, and I can’t say I blame him. I’m tired of it myself.
It takes me twenty minutes to haul myself out of bed, get in the shower, and look presentable enough to meet Maverick downstairs. He’s sitting at the dining room table with a spread of breakfast in front of him, but it seems like he’s done eating. He leans back in his chair, scrolling through emails on his cell phone.
I take a seat next to him, not sure what to do. The house is bright and spacious, and I have to admit that it feels good to be a functioning human. He grabs an empty plate from the table and sets it in front of me without taking his eyes off his phone.
“Eat,” he says. Obviously, he’s turned into a caveman overnight.
“I’m sorry…about these past few weeks,” I say, unable to think of an excuse for my behavior. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so low.
He puts the phone down on the table and looks at me. Dark blue eyes pierce into me as if seeing right through me, seeing all of my vulnerability laid out in front of him. His face is so handsome as if carved from marble. He has to be in his late thirties, but he barely looks a day over twenty-five.
“There’s no reason to apologize, but that’s over now,” he states. He makes it sound so simple, but it’s the simplicity of it that I like. It’s like his words are a nail in the coffin of my depression. It’s over; time to get back to everyday life. I have to find my new normal, whatever that might mean.
I give him a small smile before loading my plate up with bacon and pancakes from the middle of the table. I eat in silence while Maverick works on his phone. He’s probably spent a lot of time working while I’ve been holed up in the guest room.
Once I’m done, he stands up. “Come on.”
He walks toward the front door, and I follow behind him.
“Where are we going?”
“To see some more of the island,” he says as we walked outside. “This island is beautiful, and we should experience it.”
He gets into the driver’s side of a black SUV, and I slide into the passenger's seat. “Does that mean you haven’t seen much of the island, either?”
He turns around in the driveway and drives toward the fenced entrance to his property. “I’ve never had someone to explore it with,” he admits.
I feel a ping of sadness for the man next to me. He has all the money in the world but no one to even explore this beautiful island with. I stare out the window as we drive. The roads are paved, but bright green vegetation flourishes on both sides. I count five mopeds that pass by but only a few other vehicles. While I lived with Miles, I took the tropics for granted. Now gratitude swells in my chest. I push a button on the door panel, and the window rolls down. The warm air hits me in the face and causes my hair to blow around me. The smell of saltwater and sand surrounds me.
Maverick glances over at me. The side of his mouth lifts like he’s holding back a grin.
We arrive at an outdoor market. There are a lot more cars here. As we exit the vehicle, I notice all the craft stands. There is a ton of handmade art; fabrics, painting, and pottery. Everything is beautiful, and I can tell the items were made with love. It’s so different from U.S mass-produced products.
“Everything is so beautiful,” I whisper.
Maverick takes my hand in his and leads me through the market. I stop at a stand filled with beautiful pottery. It would look great as decoration in Maverick’s house.
“Can I help you?” a woman asks from behind the counter. Her accent is thick, and he
r hair’s long and a bit frizzy as if she brushed out all of the curls. It falls down her back and across her exposed shoulders. The halter top she’s wearing is necessary in the hot temperatures.
“You make all of these?” I ask.
“Me and my sisters. Is there one you want to look at closer?”
I examine the wall of vases and decorative pieces behind her. I want to look at them closer, but I don't want to give the woman false hope. I don't have any money on me.
Maverick speaks up. “Get whatever you want.”
I turn around to look at him. He looks relaxed, with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I turn back to the woman who now had a big smile across her face.
“Can I see one of the bigger flower pots?” I ask.
We leave the stand with two flower pots. I have no idea where I’ll put them, but they’re too beautiful to leave sitting on the shelf.
I squeeze Maverick’s hand as we walk. He served as a perfect gentleman throughout the rest of my shopping spree, and boy did he look good doing it.
“Here, let me carry your bags,” His attentiveness blew me away. I had so many bags. He didn't flinch once at my purchases.
“I’ll pay you back. Once I figure out how much money I have.” The thought of dealing with the shit Miles left behind is like a weight on my chest. I don't want to deal with it. I just want everything to be gone.
He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don't take you shopping so you can pay me back.”
“Thank you for doing this for me. I needed it.”
His eyes hold so much sincerity as he speaks. “I know, Pumpkin.”
Chapter Eight: Operation Flight
Maverick
“Hey,” I say over the phone as I lean back in the chair behind my desk—a cigar rest between my fingers. I don't smoke often, but every once in a while, it’s a nice treat.
“What’s up, man? How’s everything?” Dustin asks. I haven’t talked to Dustin since going to the hospital with Hazel. I’ve been too busy watching over her and running my business to call.
