The complete scars series: Books one-four

by Tonks, Rachael

  “You have fire,” he purses his lips, narrowing his eyes on me. “I kind of like it when you fight me, Isabelle. It gives me the perfect excuse to punish you.”

  I bite my tongue, fighting back the need to verbalize my anger. I smirk at him; his hard stare turns to a confused one as he looks at me with intrigue. “What? What is so funny?” he quizzes, tilting my head a little further, my hand covering his to try to stop me from losing my balance.

  “Do what you want to me. You can violate and torture me if that makes you feel like I belong to you. But I never will,” I say, smiling widely, shaking my head. “I might be forced to stay here, forced to do the sick things that you fantasize about, but know this, my heart belongs to one man. One man only. Braxton… And nothing you can ever say or do will change that. So, do your worst, Sir,” I exaggerate his name. In this single moment, I feel more empowered than I ever have. A deep satisfaction resonates within me. He can own and dominate every part of my body and mind. But my heart will never be owned or controlled by this monster.

  “Braxton, huh?” He smirks at me.

  I widen my eyes in shock as he says his name, his lip curled as he taps his lip with his forefinger. “Would it shock you, Isabelle, if I told you I know Brax?”

  “I wouldn’t believe you. How would you possibly know him?” I ask, trying to remain strong but the emotion bubbling deep inside rises to the surface. I cannot control my natural reactions to his comment.

  “Only time will tell, my sweet girl, won’t it?”

  “What does that mean?” I press, desperate to unravel the mystery behind his words. Before I can understand what is happening, I feel my body falling face down onto the bed, my hand covering the patch of skin that stings. I brush my hair away from my face.

  “You don’t get to question me. You may think your heart belongs to another, but here, with me, you are mine.”

  He slowly walks around the bed, the pocket knife held in his hand once more. He drags the knife along the frame of the bed, the metal on metal sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard. I wince at the intensity of the sound, my captor leaving my sight.

  I jump at the feel of his hands behind me. He slices the knife through the back of my dress, completely removing it from me, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. I shudder as I feel the blade entering the seam of my panties. In one swift movement, he tears through the material, ripping them from me. I freeze, unable to fight back. Unable to do anything to stop this man wielding a knife. My whole body trembles with fear, despite my lame attempts to stop and stay strong.

  “I should fuck your sweet tasting pussy with my blade,” he growls, “you should pay the price for disrespecting me,” he sighs. “But I’m not done yet,” he says, his voice fading and the sound of footsteps echoing through the silent room.

  It’s funny how silence is something that holds so many bad memories for me, how it is the one thing that I fear above anything else.

  I lift my head discreetly, just enough to watch him reach into what looks like a gym bag besides the door. I think back to when he arrived and don’t remember him bringing the bag with him.

  Casually strolling back toward the bed, I notice the thick brown rope in his hand, wound into a small loop. In the other hand he holds a wooden cane. Walking around the bed, he takes my hands and pulls them behind my back. I let out a cry as he winds the rope tightly around my wrist. He yanks on the rope forcefully and I can feel it being wound around my ankles.

  “What…what are you doing?”

  “Getting you just where I want you Isabelle. You’ve caused me a great deal of displeasure. It’s time to rectify that.”

  “Please… please don’t…”

  “Please don’t what?” he growls tugging on my hair. I let out a sob, a single tear rolling down my face. “Not so brave now, Isabelle,” he taunts before letting go of my hair with a shove. Every muscle in my body aches as I’m tied in the most uncomfortable position, ankles almost touching my hands. I’m powerless as I lay here bound.

  Powerless to defend myself against this monster.

  “You are going to do exactly what I tell you to. Exactly how I want it to be done.” He trails his rough hands across my naked body as he moves around the bed. I crane my neck, looking at him as he stands in front of me. He has a look of accomplishment on his face. His wide smile reveals his aged, crooked teeth. Even when he smiles he manages to look every part of the evil bastard that he is.

  Hooking his finger under my chin, he lifts my head, straining my neck to look up at him.

  “Please, just let me go,” I plead, looking him deep in the eyes. “They hurt so bad.”

  “And, how would I be teaching you a lesson if I just took away the punishment? Your father should have taught you better,” he says with a lift of his brow.

  “Don’t bring my father into this,” I try to snap my head from his hold but it’s no use. He squeezes harder, keeping it in position.

  “Oh, so touchy,” He scoffs, dropping into a squat position right in front of me. “Were you a Daddy’s girl, Isabelle? Uh?”

  His eyes search mine for an answer and I can’t help but scowl. “My father kept me in total isolation for the last six years. He was a psycho and a control freak. I hate him for what he did to me.”

  “And now you are here with me,” he smirks. “I would say things are looking up, Isabelle.”

  I narrow my eyes before allowing them to flutter shut. I know he’s goading me; trying to get a reaction out of me. My senses are telling me to keep my mouth shut and just obey. I don’t know whether that reaction is driven by fear, but in the back of my mind, I don’t want to piss him off more than he already is.

  Grinning, he stands up and quickly drops his pants, exposing his erect penis. I swallow down hard as I realize this punishment will be sexual, that he is getting off on this. He starts to stroke his length all the while looking at me.

  “First, I’m going to fuck your mouth, deep.”

  I can do this, I say to myself over and over in my mind. I have to do this. I have to survive. Before I can respond, he grabs my jaw, forcing his dick inside my mouth. Without hands to guide or control the movements, I am totally dominated by this man. His hands land heavily at either side of my head as he starts to thrust into my mouth, hitting me at the back of my throat. Tears stream down my face as the gag reflex kicks in but I desperately try to control it.

  Plowing into me over and over, I clamp my eyes shut praying that at some point this torture will end.

  I look down at my watch and back at Carter. “He should be here by now,” I grumble, nervously looking at the door for the millionth time.

  “He’ll be here,” he shrugs, swiveling his chair from side to side. “So, how’s things with Tara? How has she been?” I can tell he’s asking to distract me.

  “Fine,” I mumble, checking my watch and the time on the wall clock. They say the same time, so why the fuck isn’t he here already. I push my chair back heavily and storm over to the drinks cabinet and pour myself a shot of bourbon. I throw back the liquid. The burning sensation hits the back of my throat and I close my eyes as I savor the numbness it leaves behind.

  “Fine?” he asks with a tone of annoyance. “Just fine?” I can feel his gaze burning a hole in my back. I turn on the spot, resting my ass on the cabinet.

  “Yeah, just fine,” I say with a shrug. “Obviously, a little shook up, but she’s coping with it really well. I think the company has helped.” I smirk at him, pressing my crossed arms against my chest.

  “Must be that you’re a barrel of laughs, hey, man,” he teases and I can’t help but laugh a little.

  “Must be,” I reply with a lift of my brow. The sudden sound of knocking on the door sets me on high alert.

  “Come in,” Carter instructs. “And for the love of fucking Christ, sit down will you,” he whispers to me. I dart back to my seat, my eyes fixed firmly on the door as I watch Detective Hanson enter.

  “About fucking time,” I gr
ate out, my harsh gaze fixed on him.

  “I’m so sorry. My last appointment ran over. I can only apologize,” he says, holding out his hand to me.

  “Sit down,” I demand, “handshaking comes when I know you’ve been doing your job. You know, the one I’ve been paying you for,” I snap, but the asshole just nods and scuttles into the seat beside me.

  “I, uh, I have to be honest and say I’m surprised,” he stutters, clearly nervous. “After years of searching, I didn’t think anything would ever turn up, but I’m happy to say that it has.” He gently bangs his hand on the table before reaching into his briefcase, pulls out a photograph and hands it to me. I take it from him and look at the old, dilapidated shed positioned in dense woodland.

  “This is where Isabelle has been for the last six or so years,” he continues, handing me yet another photograph. “And this is her father.” I study the photo. They look just like the sort of photograph that police investigators would take at the scene of a crime. I examine the photo before passing it to Carter.

  “So, what? He’s dead?” I ask as he passes me a whole file of photos.

  “He is. Natural causes, so no cause for alarm there. But what is interesting is that we found where he’d been keeping her. Within the cabin there was a room. A room that had nail marks on the inside. There is evidence to suggest that she was held hostage there.”

  “So, where is she?”

  “No one knows,” he says tentatively, his voice lowered and almost as if he is scared to tell me. “We know she wasn’t there at the time when his body was discovered, but we also have reason to believe it was Isabelle who made the call about his death.”

  I look at Carter through narrowed eyes. “Wait, so she called the police?”

  “The police believe she did,” he replies with a nod.

  “So, why don’t we know where she is?”

  A thousand questions run through my mind. So many things I need to know. I’ve waited years for news like this.

  “Other than the phone call, no-one has seen or heard from her. They traced the phone call to an unregistered cell phone.”

  “A cell phone?” I repeat. “How would she have had access to a cell phone? This makes zero fucking sense to me.” I tap my leg as the anxiety grows inside. She’s alive, or at least possibly. I feel like I’ve been given a glimmer of hope only to have it snatched away again.

  “I don’t know, but I am continually working to find out more information. I feel like this is a good lead, Brax. This proves that Isabelle is alive. It’s just a matter of time before we work out where she is.”

  “It proves she was alive,” I snap. “God only fucking knows where she is now.” I scrape my hands across my face, letting out a huge sigh.

  “It’s early days, Brax. It’s new information and I’m sure Detective Hanson will pursue all leads.” Carter leans forward resting his chin on his clutched hands.

  “Absolutely. My contacts at the police department will keep me involved in all developments. I’m also looking into the phone number to see if I can track the location or where it was purchased. I think we should feel very positive.” I look at the skinny guy beside me, glasses resting on the tip of his crooked nose as he looks over them at me. Somehow the future of finding Isabelle rests with this guy.

  “I need you to up the fucking game. Too long I’ve waited for this chance to find her. I need you to widen the search, hire more investigators,” I say, feeling the heat inside me intensify. “I’ll pay, I don’t care how much. I just need you to do whatever it takes to get her back.”

  “I understand,” he says, stepping up from his seat and holding out his hand to me once more. I follow his lead, standing and taking his hand. I squeeze a little as I shake his hand slowly. I watch as his face reddens as I intensify my grip.

  “Don’t let me down,” I say with a glare.

  “I won’t,” he says tentatively, trying to retract his hand, but I hold it there. “I mean it,” I say, lowering my voice. “Don’t mess this up!”

  “I will do everything I can,” he says, finally managing to snatch his hand away. He darts a look at Carter before turning and racing out of the room.

  “Fuck,” Carter sighs, “I think your intimidation tactic really worked on Detective Hanson.” A small chuckle escapes him, but nothing about this is funny to me. This is the start of the rest of my life. A life I could have with the one person who means everything to me. Isabelle is my person. The other part of me and what she left behind is a shell of the person I was before.

  “Fucking years I’ve been holding onto the hope we would find her. It’s the only thing that’s kept me going. It’s about time these fuckers found her. Dammit, Carter, we are paying them enough.”

  “It’s only money and we’ll pay until we know the truth. I’m on your side here, Brax. I know what you’ve been through since that day, and fuck, you’ve barely held it together. I’ve tried for years to be that guy, that best friend that could bring you out of the emotional coma you’ve been in for so long. But I realized that I’m not the one that can do that. She is. So, believe me when I say that I’m fucking determined to find her for you.”

  “Who’d have thought; Carter fucking Mellano has a heart.”

  “Well fuck, don’t get carried away. You know that my heart died a long time ago.” He blows out an exaggerated laugh.

  “You and me both,” I say, making my way over to the door.

  “Hey, before you go,” Carter calls out, stopping me in my tracks. “I wanted to let you know that I’m sending one of the guys to scope out Alvrez. We need to get some idea of what will go down at the meeting. I can’t afford for this deal to fuck up.”

  “We have plenty of other suppliers. What’s the real deal with this guy?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on him. I walk back over to his where he is, leaning forward and resting my palms against the cool wooden table.

  “The price, man. It’s good shit and we’re set to make some real fucking money. Not to mention that I have the MC’s on my back. They are still fucking pissed about the disappearance of their guy. It’s only because they have no proof that they haven’t started a fucking war over this. But make no mistake, they are suspicious. Really fucking suspicious,” he repeats. I watch as he reaches forward, grabbing a tissue and dabs his brow.

  “No proof, nothing they can do. They can be suspicious all they want, but they can’t do jack shit.”

  “They’re lucky that I didn’t have my guys finish them all off. Fucking cocksuckers come on my turf and lay their greasy fucking fingers on my cousin. You did the right thing, Brax. Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “I just did what I had to do,” I say with a small lift of my shoulders.

  “Just promise me one thing,” Carter dips his head until his face is right in front of mine. “Don’t rule her out, man. Tara could be so good for you.”

  “Why,” I sigh, “why would you want your precious cousin to be with a fucked up asshole like me.”

  “Because she’s family and that would ultimately make you family too. Brax, I’ve been saying for so long that I want you to work by my side. Not just running things with me, but as my brother,”

  “I dunno, man,” I grate out. “Do you think I would have taken this path if things had turned out differently? No fucking way. I never wanted to be a part of this world, dealing drugs and killing people…”

  “So, you would rather I left you. Left you to rot with those sick fuckers that killed Travis? Uh?” he spits his words at me with venom and I see the anger in his narrowed eyes. “Sometimes I don’t think you’re grateful for what I’ve done for you, Brax,’ he exhales loudly.

  “Don’t turn this into a game of emotional manipulation, Carter. You know how fucking grateful I am that we’re friends, that you saved me that day. But that, or you, can never replace the things I’ve lost.”

  “You,” he points his finger at me, slowly stepping closer, “you have enjoyed wallowing in it since that fucking day.”


  I rear back my clenched fist and swing for the bastard. As if it’s happening in slow motion, his head falls to the side and his hand finds his lip, the blood staining his fingers.

  “How fucking dare you,” I roar, charging for him. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, pulling him so close our noses nearly touch. “I relive that moment, over and over. It tortures me every single fucking day. I have died a million times over since the day I lost everything. Everything!” I roar, loosening my grip and taking slow steps back. “If you can’t get that, if you think you can fucking mock me, then good luck to you. I’m outta here.” I turn on my heel and storm toward the door.

  Fuck him, fuck this life.

  “Stop,” he yells. “Man, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you will be,” I say, glancing at him one last time before I race out of there. I owe him nothing. I repaid my debt to him a million times over. He needs me right now, much more than I need him.

  Jumping on my bike, I race away from his place and to somewhere I’ve avoided, but somewhere I’ve wanted to go for a long time.

  I drive the short distance, slowing my speed as I turn the corner and drive through the rusty metal gates. Just entering this place is like a knife to my stomach. The pain of that day comes crashing back to me like a motherfucking tidal wave. I pull in my brows as the pain sears through me, the human part of my genetic makeup I can’t seem to control. Tears swell in my eyes and I hastily reach up to wipe those fuckers away.

  Be brave, they all said. Be a man, they all said.