Secrets and Tears: A Gripping Psychological Thriller (Fatal Hearts Book 2)

by Dori Lavelle

  I nodded, and glanced at the door. How long would I have to wait? When would he return? I considered leaving the shop and going on the search for a public phone. But being out in the open would make it easier for Alvin to find me. Maybe he even knew about my disappearance already and was combing the streets for me. I should heed Miera’s advice and hide for as long as I could. Turning my back on help would be foolish.

  Miera pulled on a shapeless dress that was too large for her. One of the stolen goods. “Come.”

  I followed her into a small, windowless room in the back. Broken furniture, children’s toys, and multi-colored clothing filled it, stuffed in overflowing bags, suitcases, and boxes. A single bed managed to fit in the middle, its navy blue duvet cover peeking out from between more stuff.

  “Sit. You wait here. I come later.” She waved a hand at the bed, and walked out, leaving the door open. I appreciated it. I’d had enough of closed doors to last me a lifetime.

  ***

  The only time I left the room was to go to the toilet, located just outside the door. Miera had returned an hour after she’d left me, bringing me a change of clothes, and a peanut butter sandwich with a glass of milk.

  The rest of the time I sat on the chair, an old clock in my hands, waiting.

  Three hours had gone by and Miera’s brother still hadn’t returned.

  I’d come across three smart phones inside a box under the bed, but all were dead.

  Sitting in one place, feeling powerless, drove me to the brink of insanity. My mind screamed for me to take control, to go find a public phone or a police station.

  The toilet outside flushed and I rose from the chair.

  I stopped Miera before she disappeared back to the front.

  “I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

  “My brother come soon,” she said. “You wait, yes?”

  “No, you’ve done enough to help.”

  “Is dark outside. Is dangerous.”

  I gave her a bitter smile. How could I make her understand that the danger I was running from terrified me more than what could be awaiting me in a dark alley. Darkness was my friend, a blanket to cover me. “I’ll be careful.” Gratitude rose in my chest and I found myself pulling the woman into a hug.

  To be on the safe side, I did wait another two hours before leaving, making sure darkness had fallen thick and heavy. The brother still hadn’t returned, which made my decision much easier.

  On my way out, Miera gave me a map on which she’d traced a route I could take to the police station.

  The streets were quieter, most of the shops closed now.

  Several tourists, still strolled around, window shopping, or sat outside cafés, enjoying a quiet glass of wine or a coffee. From where I stood, I couldn’t see the sea. I heard it, smelled it, but the buildings hid it from view.

  As Miera had instructed, once I reached the leather store, just before the surfing shop, I took a sharp turn to the left. Thicker darkness and the stench of urine and dead water welcomed me as I followed a dark alley. Off the main road, no street lights showed me the way. I had to rely on the torch Miera had given me for guidance.

  My heart thudded in my throat as I slipped a hand into my jeans pocket, touch the necklace Miera had given me as a parting gift, in case I needed to sell it for money. A necklace that had once belonged to me.

  Before we’d said our goodbyes, she’d apologized for taking my possessions, but I told her she didn’t owe me any apology. If it weren’t for them, I’d still be rotting inside the dungeon.

  I jumped out of the way when a stray dog came charging toward me, teeth bared. I pressed my body to the nearest wall, sweat trickling down my spine. My body sagged with relief when it passed by.

  The person of interest was a man behind me, who held up what looked to be a piece of meat.

  A group of teenagers, huddled together in a corner, eyed me suspiciously through the thick smoke of their cigarettes.

  Though the smoke burned my eyes, I kept myself from blinking. It could be perceived as a sign of fear.

  I tightened the knot of my scarf and continued on, pretending to be one of them, just another local out for a nighttime walk. I belonged to the place like the dogs rooting through garbage, the drunks swaying from side to side, the homeless pushing shopping carts overflowing with their possessions. The sound of my breathing became one with the snoring, coughing, and laughing. My ears welcomed the rock music blaring from unseen radios, while the smells of vomit, mildew, and motor oil hugged me. To be safe, I had to be at home in the alley. But not for long.

  The golden lights of streetlamps welcomed me as I stepped out of the alley.

  After a five minutes’ walk, I found the police station, a brick-stone building that stood out against the night sky. My stiff legs climbed the two front steps.

  The dark windows overlooking the main street could only mean one thing. I swallowed my fears and chose to hope anyway.

  Drawing in a deep, calming breath, I rang the bell.

  No one opened the door.

  I rang it again, and again, and again, my hopes wilting each time the tip of my finger pushed against the small metal button.

  This can’t be happening.

  I collapsed onto the peeling bench on one side of the door. My hands clutched my trembling knees.

  What will I do now?

  I rang the bell a few more times before giving up. No luck.

  Giving in to defeat, I walked blindly down the steps toward a woman carrying a baby in a sling.

  She spoke English, but didn’t know when the police station would open. She walked away before I could ask if she had a phone I could use.

  I was left with two choices. I could return to Miera to see if her brother had shown up, or head to the dock, in the hope I’d find a boat to take me to the next big town.

  Miera’s shop seemed the safer choice for now.

  Sweat misted my upper lip as I bowed my head, and disappeared into the alley.

  “Hey, baby, wanna fuck?”

  My eyes met those of a bearded man swaying in my direction. He carried a bottle of beer in one hand, and touched his crotch with the other.

  A cold shower ran down my spine. My determination wouldn’t let anyone stand in the way. I straightened to my full height and walked faster, toward the man who wanted to fuck me.

  His teeth glinted in the moonlight as he smiled. He thought I wanted him too. Wrong.

  The moment I got close enough to touch, and he reached out his dirty hands, I shoved him into the nearest bins. The sounds of his bottle breaking, the bin lids crashing to the ground, and his swearing, caught other locals’ attention.

  I started to run, pushing my way through more men who tried to touch me. I didn’t let them.

  My scarf slid off my head, litter crunched under my feet, and clung to my ankles.

  I didn’t slow down until I reached the ice cream shop, my chest burning.

  Miera’s eyes brightened when she saw me.

  “Police station is closed,” I breathed, leaning against a chest of drawers.

  “Go to room,” she said. “My brother has phone.”

  “He’s here?” A shot of adrenaline rejuvenated me.

  “Yes. In room. Go.”

  I didn’t need her to tell me twice.

  Her brother sat on the edge of the bed, a plate of food on his lap.

  “I’m so glad you’re back.” A smile spread across my face. “Miera said I can use your phone.”

  The man wiped his mouth and rose. “Sorry, lady,” he said, still chewing. “No phone.”

  My breath hitched. “Please. I’ll keep the call short.”

  “Who exactly do you plan on calling, Kelly?” The voice came from behind the door. Deep, chilling…familiar.

  Before I could react, he appeared from behind the door, and grabbed me by the shoulders. Then he sent me flying toward the only empty corner in the room.

  A low cry escaped my lips when I crashed into the wall,
and slid to the floor.

  I lifted my gaze in time to see Miera’s brother walking out, leaving me alone with the devil.

  “Don’t go.” My words came too late.

  How could I have come so close only to fail?

  “You made that man a lot of money today.” His voice rumbled through my body, sliced me apart. “He won’t have to steal for at least a year.”

  I croaked in response.

  I couldn’t move as he pulled out his handcuffs and bound my wrists. He tied my ankles together with a piece of clothing.

  “You must be wondering how I found you,” he said, crouching next to me. “The fucker was stupid enough to sell the things he stole from me at an open market. Bloody fool.” He laughed out loud. “But he got smart in the end. As soon as I showed him the money, he sold you like a dirty whore.”

  My tears distorted Alvin’s face, but I didn’t need to see his eyes, or the darkness masking his features. His presence alone smothered me.

  He sucked in air through his teeth. “You’re lucky I’m here. This is a dangerous place at night. You think I’m hard on you? I’m a saint compared to the sick bastards that roam the dark alleys of this place. I was just about to come and save you when you walked through the door.”

  I spat into his face, caught his forehead. “You’re the sick bastard.”

  He wiped my spit off with the back of his hand. A grin split his face as he pulled out a knife, the one Miera’s brother had threatened me with on the yacht. “Yes, I lied. I’m the last sick bastard you’ll ever fuck.” He pulled a roll of tape from his pocket.

  I let out a high-pitched scream.

  “Don’t waste your breath. No one will hear you.” He held my head still and taped my mouth shut. “No one around here cares about a stupid tourist.” He paused. “And your two friends are too busy counting their money to care. Your screams annoy the crap out of me.”

  I ignored his words, continued screaming from deep within my throat. My cries grew louder, and then died, when a metal candlestick struck the side of my head, shutting me up.

  He tossed the candlestick aside. “If I didn’t enjoy the feel of your cunt around my dick, you would be dead by now.”

  His hands pushed under my body. He was picking me up, returning me to my prison.

  “Please don’t.” the words formed inside my head, danced around with the pain. He couldn’t hear them. He wouldn’t care if he did.

  I closed my eyes and fell into the hole of darkness.

  When I awoke, I was back on the yacht, inside my cell. I only wore a pair of panties.

  The tape no longer covered my mouth, and the handcuffs were gone.

  I tried to roll onto my back, but my skin felt as though it had been dipped in boiling water. Every inch of me burned.

  What did he do to me?

  Memories galloped into my brain—images of him flogging me with his belt while I drifted in and out of consciousness. Images of him parting my legs, jamming something into my vagina. Something harder than his penis. An object.

  A candle.

  With hands handcuffed to the bedpost, I could not pull it out.

  He’d laughed as he lit the opposite end of the candle, enjoying the terror on my face. He’d watched in silence as the candle burned, as the wax dripped.

  Saliva pooled into my mouth. I swallowed it. Then I moved my hand to my inner thigh.

  Ouch.

  While the candle had burned, I’d kept my legs wide apart, but the small flame of the candle had still managed to lick my skin. And some of the candle wax still clung to my butt cheeks.

  He’d blown out the candle before it had burned out, but the warning had been enough to knock me out again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I sat in the driver’s seat of a brand new Ford Focus belonging to Stacy—a graduation present from her parents. We were about to drive to the movies on the last night all four of us would be together before college.

  After the scandal of the article, celebrating was the last thing on my mind.

  The consequences of my actions had been trickling in, and all I felt like doing was running away. But Stacy had insisted, and sweetened the deal by letting me test-drive her new car.

  It was after eight p.m. and the road was isolated.

  The girls were in high spirits, reliving the events of the past days, applauding me for my bravery in writing the article, saying I was a born editor. Then Stacy was talking to me about the latest shade of lipstick she’d bought, and Melanie and Jane were arguing about long-distance relationships.

  I slowed down at a traffic light. The next thing I knew, a black-clothed figure emerged from the darkness and appeared in front of the car. We recognized him instantly.

  Alvin held a gun with both hands, aimed at me.

  “You murderer,” he kept saying. “You fuckin’ murderer. Your grave is waiting.”

  I rolled up the window, but his words hit me anyway. Thorny fear twisted around my heart. It couldn’t end like this. I couldn’t die the night before my life was about to start.

  Stacy, the brave one, opened her window and poked out her head. “Don’t be stupid, Alvin. Go home. You’re not killing anyone tonight.”

  “Wanna bet?” He stepped closer to the car and raised the gun a fraction so it was pointed right at my head. “I’ll kill her…I’ll kill all of you.” One of his hands dropped from the gun. But the forefinger on the trigger twitched.

  Red-hot fear flashed before my eyes and at the same time a shot of adrenaline surged through me. My foot moved before I could think. I hit the gas and the car lurched forward. I heard a thump as it connected with Alvin’s body. I swore I heard bones breaking.

  We all exploded out of the car, doors slamming. We froze when we got to the front.

  Alvin lay on the ground, convulsing, blood trickling out of his mouth. His eyes were wide open, but they didn’t look as though they saw anything. Tears coated them.

  Half of his body was buried under the car. The river of blood slithered away from him, toward us. We jumped away before it touched our feet.

  While my friends’ screams tore the night apart, I stood there feeling as though I were floating. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

  I was still sobbing when I pulled myself out of the dream, still hearing Stacy insisting I had acted in self-defense. I curled up into a ball and held myself tight. The time had come to face the fact that I was losing the fight against my memories, the memories I had tried so hard to push away completely.

  Alvin had been right, I was a murderer. The day my article was published, his mother had committed suicide. My article was found on the bed next to her.

  After hours of wrestling with my past, I fell asleep again, entering a world where more nightmares awaited me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A touch on my cheek woke me. As I opened my swollen eyes, for a split second I thought I was back in Boca Raton. Damn wrong. The yacht from hell was still my home. How long had it been since I’d tried to escape? Hours?

  My eyes cleared. The eyes that looked down at me were Miles’s, wet and filled with worry.

  I moved away from his touch, unsure whether it was really him. The pillow beneath my cheek was cool, drenched with my tears.

  “Are you okay?” He touched my cheek again. “You were talking in your sleep.”

  I must have been so deeply asleep, I had not heard him enter. I had waited so long for him to show up, but now I found myself fighting through cobwebs of confusion.

  Could I trust him? How deep below the surface was Alvin lurking? How soon until he crept out of the darkness and pounced on me, punished me again for trying to run?

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said.

  He tried to touch me again and I shrank back, dragging myself out of his reach, away from his fragile comfort. He didn’t give up, pulling me to his body and holding me in his arms.

  A tear dropped to my shoulder and trickled down my arm. He was crying.

  Hungry and de
sperate for comfort, I found the strength to lift myself from the mattress. I wrapped my arms around his neck. In that moment, I wasn’t holding Alvin at all. It was Miles. I knew the sound of his breathing, the rhythm of his heart.

  He continued crying, and so did I. We crashed into each other’s pain, together and so much apart. My longing for him took me by surprise.

  Alvin could come back any moment, but I couldn’t pull away. Even when Miles broke the embrace and held my face between his hands, I was too weak to resist, too weak to do anything.

  When he kissed the tears from my cheeks, I didn’t fight him. Not even when he smoothed my hair, placed a finger under my chin, and kissed me on the lips.

  Alvin had kissed me once, but it had left my lips aching for hours. Miles didn’t taste like Alvin; he tasted like the man I used to love.

  Right now my feelings were all over the place. I didn’t even love Miles anymore. Or did I? If I didn’t, was my body betraying me? Why was it responding to him?

  He deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine, hard and wet, and urgent.

  The coldness that had infiltrated my whole being melted from the fire that coursed through my veins.

  He lowered me to the mattress and I wept from pain and pleasure. The more I cried, the gentler he became. His fingers were unhurried and gentle, unlike Alvin’s.

  I found the courage to pull back. I did not want to fool myself into thinking everything would be alright. But one look into Miles’s eyes assured me of my safety, for now.

  Miles would not stay, but maybe getting closer to him would mollify Alvin… reach him in some way. Alvin used sex as a weapon. Maybe I could also use sex, to get my freedom.

  When Miles pushed his hands into my panties, I couldn’t control myself. I ground against his hand. My brittle pleasure was dangerous, raw, desperate, and unreliable. Beyond anything I had ever experienced.

  On the battleground of desire and self-control, I searched for my freedom. I trembled with each touch, and my body quivered from within.

  Then my panties were off, and so were his clothes. He entered me, moving past the damage Alvin had left behind when he’d pushed the candle into me. Miles moved so gently, so lovingly, that the pain gave way.