1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

by Kristen Ashley

  Vince exits the car, giving me seconds of relief before the back door swings open and he grabs me by my bound ankles. He throws me over his shoulder like a dead animal. It’s completely black outside. Darkness like I’ve never seen having lived in the city my whole life. There’s a source of light ahead that penetrates the night. Vince heads toward it. He walks up a few wooden steps before we go through a door and into the living room of a cabin.

  He turns left and I’m airborne. My wrists bound, I’m unable to break my fall and my head slams into something solid. Stabbing pain pierces my skull and I swallow an agony-riddled cry. Warm liquid oozes down my face, pooling in my ear. My vision swirls.

  Vince’s footsteps against the wood floor disappear behind me.

  I squint against my throbbing head. I’m on a couch with wooden armrests. I worm my body around and face the direction we came in. Plain wood flooring and log walls are all I see. This place isn’t set up for a long-term guest. More like a place for a weekend hunter. And here I am tied up like prized kill. How ironic.

  A door slams shut, making me jump. My muscles coil tight, every sound amplified. Heavy footfalls sound down the hallway getting louder. Closer.

  Please, God. Help me.

  Dominick and Vince appear from the mouth of the hallway. Their fine suits and coiffed hair are a morbid contrast to the natural wood of the cabin.

  “Raven, darling, I’m sorry about your head. Vince is great muscle, but tends to be a bit brutal.”

  Vince smiles and licks his lips.

  “As I’m sure you’ve figured out, your boyfriend won, or lost as it was, so now you belong to me.” He kneels and places his lips just inches from my ear. “Between you and me, win or lose, I had no intention of releasing you.”

  My eyes burn. I stare at the man before me whose eyes are identical to mine. The man whose blood runs through my veins, and I feel nothing but pure, concentrated hate.

  He reaches into his pocket, and with a flick of his wrist, he’s holding a knife. I kick and pull at my restraints. No!

  “Calm down.” He sounds bored and not at all impressed by my fight. He points the knife, gently pressing the tip into the soft skin beneath my ear. “You be a good girl now or I will cut you. Do you understand?”

  I nod frantically, forcing the tip of the knife farther into my skin. A whimper leaks from my lips. He watches as a trickle of blood makes a trail down my neck.

  “So beautiful.” He swipes at the blood with his fingertip and puts it in his mouth. “You are going to make your Daddy a very rich man.”

  Every inch of my body shakes in violent bursts. He slides down the couch to my feet and cuts my binds. Then follows with my wrists.

  I flex and roll my ankles and wrists. Sitting up, my head swims. I steady myself, blinking away my nausea. Something tickles my cheek. I swipe at it and see blood on my hand. I’m going to be sick.

  “Dominick, may I use the bathroom?” My voice quakes with fear.

  He tilts his head and studies my face. I focus on his neck so he can’t read my intentions in eyes. He must be satisfied with what he sees and nods.

  I push up, ignoring my sore wrists and throbbing head, and search for a bathroom. The first door in the hallway is open. I rush in, shut the door behind me, and try to find the lock. Dammit! No lock.

  Panic and fear collect in my stomach, sending me to the toilet an on my knees. I gag and cough, arching my back with every painful heave. Bile-flavored spit coats my dry mouth, making me retch harder. The smell of my own blood flips my stomach again. A violent heave rocks my body until my stomach surrenders. I try to catch a breath, allowing the tears to fall freely. I sob with my head resting on the toilet seat. My hand does a quick search of my pockets for my phone. I knew it wouldn’t be there, but desperation has me grasping anyway. I’m stuck. Out of options.

  What’s going to happen to me?

  Thirty-one

  Jonah

  “Open the door!”

  Nothing. I knock harder.

  “Dude, calm down. You’re gonna scare the piss out of her.” Blake’s leaning against the brick wall outside Milena’s house while I bang the fucking door down.

  I pound wood again. “Milena. Open up!”

  Blake’s expression sours with disapproval. “Yeah, Milena. Open up for the enormous scary guy beating the shit out of your door.” He tacks an eye roll onto his sarcasm.

  Shit. He’s right, but we’re running out of time. Dominick has my girl, and she could be getting farther away with every minute that passes. They could be in fucking Mexico by now.

  After leaving the arena, we went straight to Raven’s place. We let ourselves in with the spare key I kept after having her door replaced. It didn’t take long for us to find what we were looking for. Who knew an old bank statement would mean more than the Title belt. Finding that felt like winning the lottery and being the first man on the moon all wrapped up into one. The address on that statement led us here.

  Milena. She’s our only hope. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what else to do but go to the police. And if Dominick finds out, which he will with all the moles he’s got planted in the department, Raven’s as good as dead.

  Resolve thickens my blood and brings my fist back to the door. I hold it back and breathe. Calm. Just one minute of her time is all I need. I flex my fist and knock lightly.

  Nothing.

  I swear to shit if she doesn’t open this motherfucking door, I will bust the fucker down and drag her ass out. Ah, hell. So much for calm.

  “Milena, it’s Jonah. I’m. . . ” I squint against the vicious buzz pounding in my head. “He’s taken her. Do you know where he would have gone with her?” My forehead rests against the door. “I need to find her tonight. Just, please, open the door.” Seconds of silence feel like hours. What am I going to do?

  A click of a lock jolts me back. The door cracks open. Milena’s eyes are cautious as she peers out just beneath the protective chain. My breath catches in my throat. She looks so much like Raven. I rub my chest to squelch the burn.

  “He took her?” Her voice is soft and carries the hint of a Latin accent.

  “Yes. From the arena.”

  She stares through me with unfocused eyes.

  “I need to know where he might have taken her. Anywhere you think he might be. Addresses would be great, but a general vicinity is fine too.”

  She blinks and meets my eyes. “Come in.”

  The door closes enough to unhook the chain and opens slowly. I walk in with Blake at my heels. Milena’s eyes widen when she sees I’m not alone.

  Before I can introduce Blake, he’s in her space.

  “I’m Blake.” He extends his hand to her. She places her small hand in his, but locks eyes on me. I nod.

  Her shoulders drop along with her eyes. “Milena.” Her apprehension isn’t unexpected. I imagine working for a man like Dominick hasn’t instilled much trust in men.

  “We’re going to need your help in getting our girl back. You up for that?” Blake must’ve come to the same conclusion, his voice the equivalent of kid gloves.

  “Mm-hm.” She nods and Blake releases her hand.

  As crude as he can be, the guy has a side that evokes trust, especially in women.

  “Please, sit down.” She motions to a couch in the living room. We head in, but I’m too antsy to sit.

  I survey my surroundings, surprised by the lack of hominess. The house I grew up in has family photos all over the place, along with knickknacks picked up from family vacations and trophies won by my sister or me. This place feels more like the waiting room of a doctor’s office than a home. Cheap, decorative art hangs on the walls, matching throw pillows arranged on a couch that looks like it’s never been sat on. And Raven grew up here? My chest cramps.

  “Milena, I know you don’t know me.”

  She backs into the couch and sits, her hands obsessively picking at the hem of her sweater.

  “But, I’m in love with your daughter
. I need to get to her. I can’t call the police—”

  “No.” Her eyes focus on me, her one word confirming that the police won’t do shit.

  “Right. You’re the only one who can help me. Please.”

  She stares across the room. I turn to Blake. He points to his watch. We’re running out of time. Milena has retreated into herself. It was just like the photo Raven took of her the day she left home.

  I squat to her eye level. This woman has caused the girl I love more pain than I can stomach. I see-saw between wanting to scream at her and wanting to worship at her feet. She holds the key to my future.

  “Look, I know you and Raven have . . . issues. And I don’t know what you’ve been through or why you did the things you did. But I know your daughter. She doesn’t want this life. If you feel anything for her, if you care for her at all, then please help me.”

  Her gaze swings to mine. “There is a place. In the mountains. He takes some of the girls there after . . .” She looks to her lap. “Girls in my profession sometimes get pregnant. He takes them there to have the procedure done and for recovery.”

  My stomach lurches. That sick-ass motherfucker! These girls, scared out of their minds, he takes to a non-medical facility so some hack doctor can scrape out their insides. I rub my head to numb the buzz that roars between my ears.

  “It’s where she was born.” Her voice is just a hair above a whisper. But the words ring like they came from a bullhorn. “The cabin. He’ll take her there.” Her eyes bore into mine with an intensity that I can’t argue.

  “Where is it? Do you have an address? Name of a town?” The questions roll from my head in rapid fire.

  She jumps to her feet and heads to the kitchen. Seconds later, she returns with a piece of paper and a pen. Frantically, she starts sketching.

  “It’s off the Interstate towards the ski resort. You’ll pass through a small town with a diner on the side of the road. The sign looks like a wagon wheel. After that, maybe fifteen minutes or so, there will be a turn off on the right-hand side. Take that until you hit a fork in the road,” she explains while drawing it out. “Right at the fork and follow that.” She hands me the paper. “It’s the only thing out there. You can’t miss it.”

  I bolt through the living room to the front door. Blake meets me there, door open and waiting.

  “Jonah!”

  I stop and turn to Milena, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “Bring her home safely, and,” she looks at the floor and my heart breaks as the gesture reminds me of Raven, “tell her I love her.”

  “When I bring her back, you tell her yourself.”

  ~*~

  Raven

  The dark is contagious. It spreads from the simple absence of light to something bigger. Something that seeps in through your eyes and multiplies until it takes you over. Starting with your mind, it works its way through until it extinguishes the last spark of hope you have hidden deep in your heart.

  Everything is dark. The moonlight spilling through the window is only bright enough to illuminate a square on the dirty floor. The smell of wood rot matches the creeping dread that fights to become my only companion. But I won’t lose hope. Not yet. Sooner or later, their guard will drop. I’ll run and live in the woods like that boy who was raised by wolves. If it means having my life back, Jonah back, I could do that.

  I’ve watched the moon square move across the floor. Dark stains pepper its surface. Is that blood? What happens in this room? I race to the window and push up on the lever to open it. It doesn’t budge. Again. Fear floods my body. Air rushes in and out of my lungs in erratic bursts. A sob crawls into my throat. I hold it back. I won’t let him win. I push it down, numbing myself from the inside out. Detach. Separate my mind from my body. That’s the only way to survive.

  I lie back on the bed, the only piece of furniture in the room. Calm, deep breathing, eyes closed. I imagine the bed beneath me is Jonah’s. He’s next to me, his arm thrown over my stomach. My heart rate slows. His breath kisses my cheek as he whispers how much he loves me. My muscles relax. He twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. The corner of my mouth lifts.

  Footsteps. I’m thrown from my fantasy. My body sits up ramrod straight, eyes wide.

  Each step is tentative, like someone sneaking down the hall. They sound close as the wood floor creaks outside my door.

  My heart races. Could it be Jonah?

  I rush to the door and press my ear to it. The knob to the door jiggles and twists. I walk backwards until my legs hit the bed. Hope and relief surge through me in waves.

  Tears build at the joy of seeing Jonah again. My skin itches for his touch. I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet. The door inches open, revealing the tall, dark figure of a man.

  I squint into the dark. “Jonah?”

  “Nope, but you can go ahead and pretend. Won’t bother me at all.”

  Vince. My stomach plummets. Terror snakes through my veins.

  He shuts the door behind him and locks it with a key. With a slow strut, he comes toward me. He passes through the moonlight square, illuminating his face. His eyes work my body, making his intentions clear. I want to scream, but dread freezes my most primitive reaction.

  “You thought I could let you go after what your boyfriend did to me in that parking lot?” He runs the tips of his fingers from my shoulder down to my breast. “It’s payback time.”

  No. My head moves from side to side, unable to articulate the words. Fear, exhaustion, and anxiety get the best of me.

  He shoves me onto the bed. I scurry backwards as fast as I can. He grabs my neck, pushes me down, and climbs on top of me. I whimper. It’s not much, but it gives me hope.

  React, fight, something.

  “You be quiet and I’ll take it easy on you. If you fight, I’ll enjoy that, but you won’t.”

  Holding my wrists together over my head with one hand, he reaches down and unzips his pants.

  Oh God, please no.

  He pins me to the bed with his hips. I kick and buck to get out from under him.

  “Fight it is.” He licks my neck and bites my earlobe, hard. “This’ll be fun.” His breath smells like liquor. I turn my face to avoid it.

  “Stop.” It’s weak, but as the word comes out so does the will to survive. “Get off—”

  His hand silences me. My arms ache. My struggle is pointless.

  He presses himself between my legs. Twisting and tugging, I try to rip my arms from his grip. Pain rips through my elbow. The only thing keeping him from his goal is my shorts. His weight crushes my body. He anchors me tighter to the bed. His mouth crashes against mine, drowning my screams. I fight and thrash, forcing myself deeper into the bed. Jonah, I need you. My mind screams for him to burst through the door.

  Break his arm, baby. Arm bar. Remember, Raven. Fight.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as Jonah’s voice stills my racing thoughts. Tears trail down my temple. It may be panic or some innate survival response, but my lesson on the arm bar comes back in brilliant clarity. I can do this.

  That’s my girl.

  Waiting for the opportunity is going to be the hardest part. I need to stop fighting so he can free his hands. I breathe deep and stop squirming.

  “Change your mind? Not going to fight me anymore?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Yeah, I knew you were a whore.”

  He slides his hand over my breast to the button of my shorts. With one hand, he pushes them down my thighs. Unable to get them past my knees, he lets go of my wrists and sits up.

  Opportunity.

  I say a prayer for strength and move quickly. I grab his right wrist with both hands. His eyes dart to mine. I throw my leg over his arm, straddling his shoulder. He jumps in surprise. Bracing my weight on my shoulder blades, I cross my legs at my calves. His arm runs the length of my body, from knees to chest.

  He struggles and grabs at me with his free hand. “You little bit—”

  One p
owerful thrust of my hips turns his words into a scream. I pull his arm tight and flex my hips deeper into the hold. I feel and hear a sickening snap at his elbow. Vince howls in pain.

  I did it.

  With a tight hold, I refuse to let go. I keep my hips thrust forward and he continues to yelp. Power surges through me. He’s crying out for me to release him. I’m locked down with an unrelenting grip. He kicks and hollers on the bed.

  Light pours into the room, blinding me. I push my hips harder, making Vince cry out. Something wraps around my neck . . . hands. They clamp down, choking me. I gasp and writhe. My vision adjusts to the light. I stare into the blue-green eyes of Dominick. His face is red with anger, jaw clenched tight.

  And he’s not letting go.

  Thirty-two

  Jonah

  My truck eats up highway as we blaze down the interstate. Hands vise-gripped to the wheel. Eyes scanning. Exit signs fly by in a blur of green and white. Blake is silent beside me. His head dips to the hand-drawn map then forward and back again.

  I play out my strategy. No more polite conversation and deal-making. I know Dominick won’t give up Raven easily. Not after what he went through to get her. He had this planned all along, including hiring Candy to do his dirty work. I should have known.

  Inwardly, I berate myself for buying into his bullshit. How could I have been so stupid? Well, that shit ain’t happening again. There are only two ways this confrontation will go. Dominick beaten into a bloody pulp, left begging for his pathetic life, or Dominick dead. And I’ll have to accomplish this while keeping Raven safe, or more importantly, alive. Fuck.

  “Turn left here.” Blake’s direction calls me from my thoughts.

  A quick turn and we’re on an unpaved road. I hit the four-wheel drive and lay heavy on the gas. Dirt and rocks spit from my back tires as we weave through the narrow mountain roads. My eyes focus on the path ahead.

  “Fork in the road.” Blake points ahead.

  I don’t have to look at the map to know which way to turn. Milena’s handwritten instructions are branded in my mind.