Hail Mary

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  “Dante, I need you.”

  “No more talking,” he ordered as he rolled me over onto my back.

  And then he was between my thighs, his mouth on mine.

  Still, he was careful to keep his weight off of me, remembering without me having to remind him that I was still recovering.

  Which made my heart beat faster than ever.

  And then I felt his cock at my entrance.

  I couldn’t see a thing, but his mouth hovered over mine, letting me know without words that he was there.

  Seconds after that realization, he filled me in one long, slow thrust.

  His mouth stayed fused to mine, and we breathed in each other’s breaths.

  One thrust. Two thrusts. Three. Four. Five. Six.

  And then I came.

  I came so long and hard that I took him with me.

  He followed me over the edge, and by the time I came to, the first rays of the morning sun started peeking through the blinds.

  The blinds of Dante’s bedroom window.

  I was in Dante’s bed.

  Oh my God.

  I was in Dante’s bed!

  Then I said something I never should have said.

  “Dante... I love you.”

  I knew the moment I said it that I should’ve never put voice to those words.

  He got squigged out even when I showed him too much affection. Why would I think telling him ‘I love you’ would be any different?

  It wasn’t. In fact, the reaction I received was worse. Much worse.

  He looked over at me, and I knew I’d lost him. He was no longer there with me. Well, mentally anyway. Physically he was there. But the rest of him? Poof in a cloud of smoke.

  Dante’s short little fuse had been lit, and in a matter of seconds, everything was blown to smithereens.

  “Dante...”

  “I need you to leave.”

  He yanked out of me so fast that I gasped in surprise.

  “You what?”

  He threw my panties and pants at my face.

  “I need you to leave.”

  I took them, clutching them to my chest, and sat up.

  “Why?”

  He wouldn’t look at me.

  “Because I don’t want you here.”

  “But…”

  “I. Don’t. Want. You. Here.”

  “You don’t want me here.” I sounded like a broken record. I couldn’t find the words. I literally felt like I was floundering in water. Drowning. Was my head above water?

  I literally felt sick to my stomach. Two minutes ago, I was on top of the world. And now... well, now I wasn’t sure how much lower I could be.

  “Okay,” I said, sitting up and reaching down to slip my panties over my feet.

  In the process, I leaked all down my leg and on his precious quilt. The one that he’d freaked out about when I’d used it to cover up here when I was first recovering.

  The quilt he’d thrown away. The quilt that he’d seen after I’d washed it and immediately took to his room to lay over his bed. I hadn’t seen it until today. Until he’d laid my head down next to it. It’d been only a glance. A short glance before he’d followed me down, placing his body on mine. Then I’d forgotten about everything but him. How he was making me feel.

  And now, that feeling was nowhere in sight.

  What was in sight was his release, which had come out of my vagina, dripping down on the quilt. I knew he’d seen it too because he flipped out. Again.

  “Dante...”

  “GET OUT!”

  Yeah, I’d lost him. I haven’t even really had him, and I lost him. Perfect. That was my life in a nutshell, though. A series of events that always ended up with me disappointed.

  “Okay,” I said quietly.

  I dressed quietly. He watched me the whole time, anger in his eyes.

  By the time I was leaving, I didn’t think it could get much worse, but yet again, I was wrong.

  “You were an obligation.”

  I froze, my hand on the knob.

  That shatter I just heard? Yeah, that was my heart breaking into a million, tiny pieces.

  I backed up, pulled open the door, and left without another word. Or at least, I tried to. But Dante, always so thorough, made sure to deliver the killing blow as I opened the door to my car.

  “Never would’ve had anything to do with you had she not forced me. Extracted that promise from me on her deathbed.”

  And that, folks, is how to finish the destruction of a woman’s heart. He completed the process by stomping on all of those shards that lay there from his first comments.

  I turned, my foot half in my car, and let him see the devastation in my eyes.

  “I should’ve just gone ahead and died like I wanted to. At least then I wouldn’t have known how it felt to have someone you thought you cared about and could count on, say things meant to break you. Congratulations. You’ve officially made me wish I had cancer again. Hope that makes you feel good.”

  His eyes changed. But before I could listen to his nasty reply, I dropped all the way down into my car and slammed the door. Seconds later, I pulled out of his driveway… and his life.

  ***

  Dante

  The moment she left I knew I’d made a mistake. Hell, the moment I’d said the words I knew they were a mistake.

  Yet, I’d still said them.

  My heart, what remained of it, felt like it was suddenly gone. Not broken... gone.

  I was glad to know that Mary, who’d been picked up while Cobie was napping earlier, was with my mother, safe and sound. Because the minute I saw Cobie drive away, tears coursing down her cheeks, I lost it.

  I felt raw. Broken. Torn apart and shredded.

  If it could get any worse, I’d probably accomplish it.

  My knees hit the wood floor. The stupid, goddamned wood floor that had seen a thousand steps.

  A thousand crawls. A hundred spills. Countless tears, and a few tantrums.

  And I let one loose, too.

  Why?

  Because I knew I’d just made the stupidest mistake of my life. Nothing would ever be worse.

  ***

  After composing myself, I went to her home, forgoing my usual route for expedience as I stopped in front of her place.

  Only, she wasn’t there like I’d expected.

  Somebody else was, though.

  Somebody who was just as pissed off as I was, only he was better prepared.

  I felt the blow to my face and had one thought.

  It was good Drake had caught me off guard. That would be the only way he’d accomplish what he set out to do next.

  Chapter 21

  Bite me.

  -Things not to say to your captor

  Dante

  30 days in captivity

  “You think you can take everything I have away from me?”

  He hit me again.

  Drake was a sick motherfucker.

  We’d been doing this same old song and dance for thirty fucking days now.

  I knew it was thirty days due to the fact that he’d conveniently left me a fucking calendar.

  Each day he’d walk in, put a big red X through the previous day, and then walk into my cell.

  My cell where I could just barely stretch arm to arm if I held them out wide. The cell itself was about six feet wide by six feet long.

  He was even considerate enough to give me a pot to piss (and yes, shit) in.

  I was chained at my feet and wrists, and if I wanted to do anything other than sit on my ass, it either hurt one or the other. They were long enough for me to stand hunched over, but not long enough for me to do much else.

  Everything was raw, and every muscle in my body was sore from sitting here, scrunched up, for the last month. I was still in the same damn clothes I’d driven to Cobie’s house in, but they were so dusty and dirty that they’d be thrown away if I ever g
ot the fuck out of here.

  At least it was cool and dry.

  That’s all I could say about this godforsaken mess that I found myself in.

  The next blow came to my sternum, and it took me thirty seconds at least to find my breath after he delivered it.

  I coughed and then smiled. “You ever going to let me go?”

  “No,” Drake snarled. “Because you’ve cost me a fuck load of money, and I’m not letting you go until you figure out a way to replace it.”

  “They’re looking for me, you know.”

  Drake sneered.

  “I know,” he growled. “I have cameras all over this facility.”

  “What facility?”

  “I wasn’t just fucking around while Marianne was gone. I was building a fortress using stuff I acquired from my new friends. Cobie let me stay in her house, and during that time I had a few alterations made to her property.”

  “What kinds of alterations?”

  “The kinds where I don’t have to be in the main house to still be ‘on the property.’”

  The kinds that meant he’d been there all along, and we were probably still there.

  I was being looked for, but it was highly unlikely I’d ever be found.

  In the past thirty days, I’d had a lot of time to think.

  A lot of time to contemplate my life.

  And a lot of time to plan.

  There were a few things that I was more than sure about.

  One, I wanted to hold Mary again.

  Two, I wanted to make up with my family. I wanted to forget the past, remember the good times that I had with my children and wife, but not live for just them anymore.

  Three, I wanted to marry Cobie. I wanted her in my life. No, I needed her in my life.

  I said some pretty nasty things to her because I’d felt guilty about how much happiness I’d felt while having her. There were feelings running through me that I hadn’t even felt with my wife—which had been the real kicker in the guilt department. I wasn’t supposed to love anyone else more than I loved my wife—but I did. I loved Cobie. I loved her with my whole heart and soul… and distance wouldn’t change that.

  I don’t know how she snuck in there, but she had.

  I was forty-one fucking years old. I most certainly had a good life with my wife and kids while it lasted. I hadn’t needed anything else—or so I thought.

  But I did need something else.

  I needed someone to take care of. Someone to love me. Someone to love my Mary.

  And Cobie did… she loved us.

  Sometime while taking care of her over that six-week period, she’d stolen my heart. She’d shown me that there was something more to life than what I was giving it… and I hated that I’d thrown it all away because I’d been scared of those feelings that I was having.

  But, if I was being honest, I was scared to lose those feelings again.

  It was better—at least I thought at the time—to lose her now than to really let her get under my skin, and then lose her. But, she’s already under my skin, so that’s a moot point.

  Even now, one month after she’d stormed out of my life pissed off at me, I was still feeling the burn of each one of the tears I’d seen fall down her face.

  And I was certain, that as soon as I got out of this hell hole, I was going to make her mine. I was going to apologize.

  I was going to marry that girl.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  ***

  61 days captive

  I’d lost a lot of weight.

  I was also very fucking tired of living on bread and water.

  I craved a steak like never before, and I missed my family. One that was officially mine—Mary—and one that wasn’t—Cobie.

  But she would be… soon.

  If only I could get out of here.

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  I felt the whip lash against my skin, but I didn’t even feel it anymore.

  Nope, not me.

  Seriously, if there ever came a time when I did feel it, I’d be happy.

  Why?

  Because that would mean that I’d be on the way to healing.

  There were open wounds on my back that started the first day that Drake took me, and today, he continued to reopen each and every one.

  “You know what else is funny?”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “I can’t find her.”

  My brows rose, and my head, which had been hanging, lifted.

  “You think that’s good, don’t you?”

  I nodded once.

  “It’s not.”

  “Why?” I rasped.

  Was that really my voice?

  I sounded like a newborn kitten.

  “Because if I can’t find her soon, they’ll start looking for her.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  I sounded like a fuckin’ parrot, but my goddamn heart was slamming against the wall of my chest as I waited for him to answer, and I couldn’t form a coherent thought.

  “They think she’s mine.”

  And then he smiled.

  I wanted to kick him in the front teeth, but I couldn’t even raise my leg far enough to do a goddamn thing, let alone kick him in the face.

  My foot twitched, and he started to laugh.

  Laugh it up, motherfucker. You’re going to eat my heel one day, I’m goddamned sure of it.

  ***

  94 days captive

  He’d unhooked the chains from the wall, but not my wrists, thinking I was too weak to fight back.

  I was… mostly.

  But I knew that if he came close to me, I was going to kill him.

  Today was the day he ‘cleaned my cage’ according to him.

  And normally it happened once every few weeks. It’d been longer than that… I think.

  Luckily, he’d fed me a decent meal yesterday because I was now feeling that extra energy.

  I could practically taste the victory in the air.

  It was about to go down.

  I knew it.

  Drake, though, acted oblivious as he started to spray the water over not just the cell I was in, but also me.

  The feel of running water was enough to make me shiver.

  I was down, in my guestimations, about thirty to forty pounds… if not more.

  I felt weak as a kitten, but the closer and closer he came to me, the more intense the feeling inside of me grew.

  Today. Was. The. Day.

  The next step he took brought the bright red hose close to my face, and I moved until my body lay on top of it.

  When he felt the resistance, he tugged.

  I used his surprise and his imbalance against him. He turned and started to yank on the hose again. I used his inattention at his back to my advantage and swept my foot out.

  His foot caught on the chain and he fell.

  His hands went out to catch his fall, but I moved fast—or as fast as I could, anyway.

  He came down to the ground, and I wasted no time wrapping the chain that was attached to my wrist around his throat. Then, for good measure, I brought the hose up and shoved it down his throat.

  He sputtered, choked and fought.

  Water was going everywhere, not just down his throat.

  He was gasping. I was gasping.

  My arms and legs burned.

  He went limp after about five seconds.

  I held him for a little bit longer…then let him go.

  Not because I didn’t want to make sure the fucker was actually dead—but because I physically couldn’t hold it anymore.

  I fell to the ground, completely and utterly spent, panting as I tried to find the ability to move.

  The only thing I could accomplish was reaching for the phone that I knew Drake always kept in his perfectly-starched dress pants.

  I found it.

  Then groaned when I
realized that there was a password on it.

  FUCK!

  But then I smiled as I looked over at Drake’s hand.

  Thank God for the geniuses at Apple. One way around the password protection was the fingerprint feature. Seeing as I had the access to those fingers and their prints via their unconscious, and hopefully dead, owner’s hand, it wouldn’t be a problem for me to get into his phone.

  After trying, and then wiping Drake’s thumb dry on the only dry part on his shirt, I gained access to the iPhone.

  I didn’t call 911. I called Rafe.

  ***

  Three weeks later

  It took me almost a month to gain back some of my lost weight, for my wounds to be treated and begin to heal and for me to find the fucking will to live. Two of those days I spent in and out of consciousness as my body tried to find a way to heal the damage that had been done to it.

  Then, I became totally aware.

  And when I became aware, I was in pain.

  Pain that I relished.

  In those three weeks, I hadn’t been feeling well enough at any given time to do a goddamn thing. Until today.

  “Just listen to me, goddammit.” Travis hauled me back by my wrist. “You’re not ready to just go charging out there after him.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “I’m not charging after him,” I snapped. “I’ve been working with the therapists. I’m getting stronger. I’m going to grab a hamburger, some fries, check on Mary…and then find my woman.”

  Travis’ mouth closed. “You’re not going after him?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Travis was scared I was going after him because, in the hustle and bustle of Rafe finding me, the police coming in, and them trying to save me—because, apparently, the exertion from my fight with Drake was too much on my already weakened and overtaxed heart, and I’d passed out—Drake had escaped.

  According to Rafe, Drake wasn’t there when he’d arrived.

  I couldn’t tell you, because after placing the phone call to Rafe, the last thing I remember was feeling like something was twisting every muscle in my body. Then I must have passed out.

  “Remember, you’re not supposed to overexert yourself.”

  I waved my hand in a vague sweeping motion. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You will not be fine!” my mother snapped.

  I ignored her, as well as the rest of my brothers, and kept walking.