Heart Breaker (Break on Through)

by Harper Kincaid

  It stung like a motherfucker. I could feel a trickle of blood run from the inside of my nose onto my mouth and chin. And still, I did not say a word. I just resumed gazing into his eyes with nothing of myself.

  “Such a brave li’l bitch you are,” he sneered at me. He turned toward the table and picked up the scissors. “Let’s see how brave you really are once you’re stripped of your armor.”

  He grabbed my sweater by the cowl neck and brought the cold blade against my skin. He licked his lips like a slimy viper, and cut the sweater right down the center. Then the sleeves, leaving me in my bra and jeans. Then he undid the button and slowly rolled down the teeth of the zipper. I swallowed, trying desperately to keep calm, to hold my resolve. But having him cut the clothes off of me, having him touch me was making me sick. The bile from my stomach was rising in my throat. Burning me raw and tainting my mouth with a foul, bitter taste.

  “Always wondered if the carpet matched the drapes. If this gorgeous hair color of yours was real.” Then he kneeled down toward my feet and proceeded to cut the legs of my jeans off of me. Then he took off my shoes and pushed down the remaining fabric off my hips, leaving me in my bra and underwear.

  When he stood up, I could tell he had an erection because it was straining against his pants. And his breathing was erratic and his pupils were fully dilated. Although, knowing him, that could also be a result of whatever drug he happened to be on at the moment.

  His gaze perused me slowly, and he rubbed himself through his pants. Disgusting.

  “Seems they are a match,” he spewed out, looking pleased with himself, and I realized it was because I had a grimace on my face. He knew he was getting to me.

  “So this is how it’s going to go,” he continued, walking over to the table. “First, we’re going to play. I’m going to finally fuck every hole you’ve got and I’m going to do it hard and messy. Then I’m going to…”

  Suddenly, I heard the sound of breaking glass, but because I was tied up and he was standing in front of me, I couldn’t see what was going on. He went on immediate alert, grabbed the gun and then took hold of my face.

  “You try and escape and I’ll kill you. Understand?”

  I just nodded, praying to God that this was indeed a rescue. Just as Schiller walked over to the window, the front door of the cabin flew wide open and two muscled men in camouflage barreled their way in.

  “Code four! Code four!” one of them yelled into what looked like a Bluetooth headset attached to his helmet. Both of them carried semiautomatic weapons aimed directly at my kidnapper.

  “What the fuck?” Derek was initially stunned before he quickly regained his wits and pointed his Beretta right at me.

  “Put your weapon down, Schiller, or we won’t hesitate to shoot,” the other one said.

  Schiller started cackling, and it was high-pitched and bone-chilling. The sounds of a madman. “I’m dead anyway. Might as well not go down alone.”

  Then the rest happened in a flash. Schiller turned his beady gaze off the two soldiers and gave me the most hateful, ugly stare I had ever seen, all while cocking his weapon.

  He may have known he was about to die, but he was determined to take me with him. I stopped breathing and braced. Then I heard a rapid-fire series of gunshots and I screamed.

  But they didn’t come from Schiller’s gun. Nor did they come from the two armed men. One shot hit his right hand with the gun in it and the other seemed to hit him in the hip, because he immediately dropped the gun and fell onto his knees.

  Looking stunned. And then furious at being denied his revenge.

  “Target neutralized, target neutralized! All clear for firestorm entry!” Both men descended upon us, one tying up Schiller and the other releasing me from the cross.

  The one helping me was a massive guy. All muscles and hard edges. And there was a faded white scar bisecting his right eyebrow and down past his cheekbone. In spite of looking as if he could decimate a village singlehandedly—and with his bare hands—he was gentle when he loosened the bindings on my wrists and ankles. As he removed the ball gag from my mouth, I noticed his eyes held a combination of sympathy and relief.

  “Doesn’t look like he got too far along,” he said to me.

  I finally remembered to breathe and let out a huge rush of air. “No, thank God. He Tasered and drugged me, then tied me up and cut my clothes off. But he had wanted to relish hurting me, so he was taking his time.”

  “Where is she?” I suddenly heard Kyle coming into the cabin, and he had a gun in his hand. Somehow I knew he had been the one to shoot Schiller through the cabin window. His eyes scanned the room, looking wild and feral. Searching until his gaze locked with mine.

  And then there he was. My Kyle. The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

  He was wearing a camo outfit like the others. The guy who had released me stepped away just as Kyle sprinted over to me, cupped my face in his hands and gave me the deepest, most soulful kiss. His fingers fisted my hair, making my scalp burn, but I didn’t care.

  My baby had gotten me.

  “Are you all right?” he croaked out, his voice raspy and hoarse.

  I nodded, tears finally coming to my eyes, and I started shaking. Crashing from the adrenaline more than from being cold, although I was still only in my bra and underwear.

  He looked down at my state of undress and his hands clenched into fists.

  “You came just in time,” I rushed to say. “How-how did you find me so fast?”

  I fell into him, and he wrapped me in his arms, rocking me back and forth. His face sank into my hair and neck.

  “I love you, Samantha,” he said to me, his emotions vibrating into my skin. “Should’ve said it before. Will never make that mistake again.”

  I started bawling for real now, deep sobs releasing all my angst and fear from earlier, melting into the arms of the man who loved me.

  “I l-love you too,” I managed to get out. “I should’ve…I should’ve said it earlier too. I didn’t want to fr-freak you out. Scare you away.”

  He inhaled as if he was about to speak, but Max, all broad shoulders and squared jaw and a goofy grin on his face, came into the room just then. He had another camo jumper in his hand, which he immediately tossed over to Kyle, who gave it to me.

  “Reunion time has gotta be put on hold. You two need to be briefed.”

  “Who are these guys?” I asked Kyle.

  He looked down at me, his palm smoothing my hair. “I’ll explain everything in a bit.”

  That was good enough for me. I put on the jumper and then looked over to the other side of the room. Derek was hogtied and hooded, and obviously gagged because all the sounds he made were muffled.

  “The West Virginia State police are going to be here at any moment,” one of the armed men said. “You’re going to tell them that Kyle and Max got here and set you free, but Derek must’ve escaped. Meanwhile, we’re going to take care of him the way we do.” Then he pierced me with his fixed gaze. “You did not see us. You do not know us. The chopper is waiting. Max and Kyle came here on their own. You’ll give the statement and then go back with them.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “We’ll secure our own transportation back, after we take out the trash.”

  Schiller must have known what that meant because all of a sudden, he began thrashing around. The guy with the scar came over and kicked him hard in the ribs.

  “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, then clocked him in the head with the butt of his gun. The impact immediately quieted his movements, and he slumped over.

  I didn’t know how I felt about what they were planning. And I must’ve shown it on my face because Max suddenly chimed in.

  “This is not just about you, Samantha.”

  “Then what else is it about? Because what you’re planning is murder.”<
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  His eyes narrowed at me, but Max’s voice remained steady. “The Order has had their eyes on him for years. This scumbag has hurt a lot of women, but recently his tastes have run toward underage girls. All of them against their will. You understand?”

  I gasped, my hand coming to my mouth while Kyle secured a tighter hold around me.

  “Who or what’s ‘the Order’?”

  I had heard Max mention that name before. It was the last time I had to deal with Schiller, in my house, and one mention of “the Order” had silenced even a delusional sociopath like Derek. Whoever or whatever it was must be seriously dangerous.

  Max gave Kyle a piercing look but said nothing. I turned to my man, who placed his hand on my neck, his way of calming me.

  “You need to decide in, like, five seconds how much you want to know, Sam.”

  I gaped at him, my brain trying to play catch-up. “Are you part of the Order?”

  “No, babe,” Kyle answered, giving my neck a squeeze. “But Max is, and that information alone is more than I want you to know.”

  “But I don’t understand…” My voice trailed off.

  “I’m not part of them, but I know these guys. They do the shit that the law can’t, and I called them in.”

  “But you can’t be tied to—”

  He got scary angry in a flash. “You think I give a shit about any of that? This sick motherfucker tried to take you from me. Permanently. I didn’t care how I got you back.”

  I just stared at him, trying to absorb everything.

  “Masterson, we don’t have time for this,” the scarred guy barked. “You got the story straight?” His eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Kyle and me.

  “Yeah, we’re good,” he answered for both of us. “Owe you everything.”

  The guy didn’t respond, just hoisted Schiller up like he weighed nothing and left with the other man, leaving me, Kyle and Max behind.

  “I still can’t believe you’d risk everything.”

  Kyle’s expression was steely determined and dark. “And I can’t believe the police haven’t gotten here yet,” he replied. “Schiller would’ve already been raping you at this point.”

  My body shuddered even before my brain understood the full impact of the truth he said. I wrapped my arms tighter around him and buried my face into his chest, taking in his scent. After a couple more minutes, I heard sirens in the distance, coming closer.

  “How are we going to explain the broken glass and bullet holes?” I asked them.

  “I was standing outside the cabin, covering Kyle’s back when I saw Schiller trying to escape and I shot off two rounds. Will explain the blood splatter on the floor.”

  “Babe, don’t worry about the details. You keep quiet. We’ll say you’re in shock.”

  “But how did you two get a helicopter out here so fast? And how did you even know where to find me?”

  Max walked over, crouched down so he was eye level with me. “The copter’s in my name, but it really belongs to the Order. Learned to fly ’em from my dad.” Then his expression softened and he offered me a small smile. “That’s the most I’m gonna tell you, peaches. Don’t ask me no more, cuz I don’t want to lie to you.”

  Five minutes later, the police arrived. We followed the script exactly and a manhunt for Derek Schiller began shortly afterward.

  He was never found. Not even his body.

  Epilogue

  Four months later—Vienna, Virginia

  At first, I thought what I felt was part of my dream. The swipe of a tongue. The sting of a bite. I realized, as the sensations were moving from the undersides of my knees up the curve of my thighs and, finally, a long, strong lick right in between my legs, this was no dream.

  Or actually it was. I was being woken up in the most delicious way possible. With Kyle in my bed. And my man was in the mood to feast on me and my warm, wet center. Like I was made of pure cane sugar. Or slow-dripping molasses. I opened my eyes and lifted the comforter.

  “Morning to you too,” I cooed, unable to help my mirth.

  “Mmmm,” was his only response, as he rolled my clit between his lips while flicking the head of it fast with his tongue. Lightning speed. Making my orgasm build in me quicker than usual. I had fallen asleep naked because we had been going at it all night. And to be truthful, I didn’t know if I had another one in me.

  Kyle always loved proving me wrong.

  I cupped both my breasts in my hands and took my nipples between my fingers. And as I rode the pleasure wave building in me, I pinched them—hard. Unrelenting. Just as Kyle sucked deep, making my orgasm rise and crash like a storm. It was glorious and heady and never-ending.

  I could barely catch my breath as he climbed over me and kissed me. The taste of me heavy on his tongue. Then his gorgeous cock slipped inside me. Seamless. A perfect fit. And we began to move together.

  I rolled over him and got on top. Something he rarely let me do because my man liked control. But this time, he encouraged me to take over. While holding on to his shoulders and not looking away from his gaze, even for a moment, I shimmied my body up and down his length. He cupped my behind and held on, enjoying the friction I was making for us.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hoarsely whispered, his throat thick with his emotions. He got like this sometimes, ever since my kidnapping, getting choked up while we were making love.

  “Love you, babe,” I whispered, as I moved myself faster, wanting for him to release deep inside me. His grip tightened, his nails digging into my skin. He closed his eyes while his sumptuous lips parted. His chest rose and fell with his quickening breath. I knew my man. He was getting close.

  “I’m gonna come, Sam,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around me and bringing me to his chest. I cradled him and then he rolled me to my back again. Holding on tight. Pummeling his dick so hard into me, I just knew I was going to come with him again.

  “Ohmigod,” I cried out, as our bodies thrust together.

  Fast. Deep. Perfect.

  He buried his face in my neck and practically roared his orgasm into me. And I fell off the cliff right along with him.

  Floating. In a new kind of ether. There was no sadness. Just us in a cloudless blue.

  He waited until our joined heartbeats slowed. Then, as usual, Kyle got a dampened washcloth and gingerly cleaned between my legs. As he brought it back to the bedroom, I found myself staring off, admiring the newly framed poster on my wall, from what I used to call “the play from hell”. What started off as a personal nightmare for me had evolved into one of the triumphs of my career.

  Everyone was shocked that I insisted on performing as scheduled in Stupid Fucking Bird. My sister, my friends, Kyle and even the trauma therapist who met with me the morning after the kidnapping, urged me to take some time for myself and bow out of the play. But what I knew—and they finally understood—was that performing would be the reparative elixir my soul needed. Instead of hiding my pain inside the four walls of my childhood home, I poured my fear and my rage into my performance. Chekhov’s Nora became the conduit for my healing and the audience was the witness to me laying my soul bare.

  And in doing so, I became clean again.

  I finished that run to sold-out crowds, winning a Helen Hayes Award for best actress and snagging a national commercial for, of all events, Super Bowl Sunday. Kyle and I laughed when I landed that one, considering we met at a Super Bowl party. Never would I have considered football the foundation for finding the love of my life.

  Kyle walked back into the bedroom, wearing his jeans low on his hips with the top button opened. He grabbed one of the button-down shirts he now kept in my closet for when he stayed with me for weekends.

  “Come back to bed, babe.” I smiled while reaching for him, trying to entice him to crawl back under the covers with me. I glanced at my bedside
clock. It was only eight in the morning. “It’s early still.”

  He shook his head and that crooked smile of his emerged. The one he got when he was up to something.

  “My woman’s being lazy this morning,” he teased, buttoning up his shirt. “Why don’t you throw yourself together and let me take you to breakfast.”

  “You are high if you think I’m getting outta bed so early on a weekend! Especially after keeping me up all night with that magic mouth and cock of yours.” I half-laughed, half-barked back, crawling on all fours across my bed away from him.

  All of a sudden, the sound of some kind of construction kicked into gear. It must have been close by because it was rattling the windows, almost as if a wrecking ball were coming toward my house.

  “What the hell…” That changed my direction. I hopped out of my warm, love-strung bed, threw on a robe and went to my bedroom window.

  “Well, look at that…” I said more to myself than to Kyle.

  “What, babe?”

  “The house across the street? The old McFerguson place? Someone must’ve finally bought it and is tearing it down.”

  “That dump? ’Bout time. It was a hell of an eyesore.”

  He was right. Jessica and I had known the McFergusons growing up. They had been old back then, and by the time we’d grown up, they were ancient. Anyway, first the missus died and her husband followed shortly after. Which was kind of sweet when you thought about it. Unfortunately, their three kids could never get along, nor agree on what to do with the place.

  So they let it sit. Getting older and even more decrepit. My parents and the rest of the neighbors weren’t too pleased. This was a house-proud block and no one wanted to be on the same street as an abandoned home.

  But that was all changing, it seemed. “Well, good for whomever got that lot,” I said while not taking my eyes off the demolition. “There’s so much room,” I mused, still staring out. “Someone can build far back and still have space for a garden and for kids to play. Could be perfect, with the right people and the right vision.”