Open Wounds: Abel and Hope: Love Against the Odds

by Inger Iversen

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a light shake. “Hope, I am not kidding. This isn’t something I would normally do for a client, but I feel like you’ll give me the silent treatment if I say no.” He rolled his eyes.

  Hope pulled out from under his hands and cleared her voice. “Let me get a coat. I think it’s going to rain again.” She said it in the most casual tone she could muster.

  Pushing her arms into her raincoat, her mind raced. The emotional turmoil of reading another letter from Mark, battled with her feelings for Abel that fluttered around in her chest, unbidden.

  Abel placed a hand at her back and led her to the truck, his eyes exploring the surrounding area as they walked the few feet from the building. In the truck, the soft, soulful voice of Joss Stone crooned melodies, as lightning struck, lighting the sky above. Hope hadn’t realized how late it had become; on any normal night, she would have enjoyed this late summer storm with a cup of tea and a good book. Instead, she sat in a truck with an emotionally unavailable man, on the way to pick up what was no doubt a threat to her safety.

  This was her life, and Hope felt helpless to change anything. She knew better than most, you can’t change a man. The only hope she had of normalcy between Abel and herself was to divorce her husband, then tackle how he viewed her, breaking down the walls he continually erected.

  “I’ll get out, get it, and drive off. While I don’t think he’s still here, there’s no point in sitting out in the open like fools.”

  “Makes sense.” Out the window, she saw the familiar long road that led to her front door. The rain had started to fall just before they arrived, but even with Hope’s untrained eyes, she could see the recent tire tracks in the dirt.

  “He drove,” Abel said, confirming her suspicions. “The cameras can’t catch what is going on way out here, but I really wanted to get the man’s face on camera. I need to send it in to an old friend, and see if the video can be run against arrest records here.”

  “You can do that?” Hope sat up, excited at the idea of finding out who Mark hired to harass her.

  “Yeah, if I still have my contacts. What I can do is identify him, find him,” he glanced at her, “and interview him. That way, I’ll have proof that Mark is the one sending you threatening letters to aid in your divorce.”

  Hope heard the malice in his voice, but she refused to react to it. From her seat, the delicate white bow atop the Tiffany’s box waved at her in the distance. Her stomach dropped. She thought to open the door, but Abel’s heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder. His warning echoing in her head.

  Hope sobered up and reached for the hand gripping her shoulder. “I’m not going out there. I just—” Rain slammed hard into the windshield, causing Hope to startle. “Jesus, let’s just get out of here.” She moaned, uncaring of the stupid box, or any other letter that may be up there.

  Abel pressed a gun into her hand and opened the door. “Don’t get out. Scoot into the driver’s seat and floor it the fuck out of here if anything happens.” He helped her into the driver’s seat, and buckled her in, even as the rain pelted his head and back.

  Slamming the door shut, Abel made fast work of heading through the front yard and up the stairs. After he picked up the box, he ran back to the truck.

  “Drive,” he commanded as he hopped in.

  Hope pushed the pedal down, backing out without an afterthought. They made it ten minutes down the road before her eyes drifted to the box tucked beneath his hands. This box was the same size as the last, but attached was a medium sized manila envelope with her name scrawled across it.

  “It’s not Mark’s handwriting,” she observed. “Open it and read it to me.” She hoped her voice hadn’t shaken, betraying the fear in her heart. When he didn’t speak, Hope slowed the vehicle down and looked to him. “Really, I think you should. The suspense is making me so sick to my stomach, I may have to pull over and puke.”

  He considered her plea, then moved the folder out of the way and untied the damp white bow. Hope fought to keep her eyes on the road, daring glances at the item Abel removed from the box. The flash of red lace and a sparkling chain had her slamming on the brakes, skidding through mud and water.

  Abel reached out to stop from slamming into the dashboard, causing the items in his hands to fly to the floor. Hope’s chest constricted, working hard to impede her ability to breathe. She gripped the wheel tight, struggling to pull in air.

  Vaguely, she could hear Abel calling her name, his hand touching hers. Hope couldn’t take it. Snatching away from his touch, she pushed open the door and ran into the night. With her heart racing and tears flowing down her cheeks, Hope screamed into the dark sky as her heart broke, and the memories from the past struck her like a physical blow to the chest.

  She stumbled and fell into a puddle of rain water. Gasping when her face submerged, she lifted her head and searched for air to feed her burning lungs. Seconds later, Abel crashed into the water, taking her in his arms.

  “I got you,” he said as he rocked her back and forth, his voice becoming a beacon to guide her away from the past. “I got you.”

  10

  Abel

  Hope’s small body shook in his arms, and he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. Abel had pulled the item from the box, but barely had time to examine it before she nearly ran them off the road. Glancing back at the truck, he amended that thought; she had run them off the road. His blood had heated at the slight glance he’d gotten at the sight of the lacey garment. Hope shifted in his arms, her face leaving the comfort of his chest.

  She pulled away from him, tears and rain streaking down her pale face. “Sorry, I know you said not to leave the truck, but I couldn’t stay. I just felt as if I were suffocating.” She grabbed her chest and sucked in air. Her body lay half in the water, half on a bright green patch of grass.

  The summer storm had ceased, leaving behind the aroma of rich earth and the sight of his woman’s tears. If Abel hadn’t already been on his knees, the sight before him would have sent him there. He stood, taking her with him as he headed back to the car. Once again, he gently placed her inside. Rain water soaked her clothing, leaving them clinging to her flesh. Abel reached under the seat and found a flannel shirt; after making sure it was clean, he wiped away the rain and tears from Hope’s face. Thinking of how the box had affected her, he covered it with the flannel shirt.

  The ride home was long and silent. As soon as they made it into the loft, Abel helped Hope to remove her wet clothes, dressed her in one of his shirts, and put her to bed. He would review the contents of the box and folder while she slept because the alone time would do him good. He needed to sit down and figure out why he’d thought of her his woman, and why the sight of her so shattered and terrified had broken his heart.

  Abel sat at the table with the contents of the box and the envelope laid out before him. “Fuck.” He thrust his hands through his hair and cursed again. Before him lay a collar made of red lace and leather, with a small lock holding together the ends. From the collar hung a long, shimmering chain—similar to a lead from a leash. He shuddered at the thought of what Mark had used it for.

  With the collar came a note, but the collar nor the note were what bothered Abel. Instead, it was the photos he’d removed from the envelope and placed on the table in front of him. Four eight-by-ten photos, all of him and Hope together at the grocery store. The note, while vital on its own, didn’t concern him the way the photos had. Two were close-ups of his face, and someone had scratched in an X over his face, and on the other they had written Get rid of him.

  The letter—just as threatening as the first—made it clear Hope and Abel were losing time in the countdown. With gloved hands, Abel lifted the letter and read it again.

  If he’s touched you, I’ll kill him and make you watch.

  I’ll give you to the count of three to come home to me—untouched.

  TWO.

  Picking up the phone, he placed a call to the
one person who could help him find the man in the video. There were probably very few men in the world who were still on good terms with their ex-fiancée, but he was one of them. When he and Ivy had gone their separate ways, they had done so amicably. It’d been two broken souls coming together, when there had been nowhere else to run.

  “Hello?” answered a groggy voice on the other end.

  “V, wake up. What in the hell are you doing asleep, vampire?” He chuckled when she yawned and cursed.

  “What in the hell? They let you out of jail and you couldn’t even stop by?” He could hear the rustling of bed sheets on the other end and he wondered if he’d interrupted something.

  “Just got out not too long ago, and picked up a job. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Hmmm . . . you could have at least called sooner. After all, I was the reason your ass ended up in jail in the first place.” Abel didn’t say a word. If placed in the same situation again, his actions would not differ. “Abel?” she called out in his silence.

  “I need your help.” He got up and paced over to his laptop.

  “What’s up?” She sounded more alive now, her sleepy state lifting at the idea of having some work to do.

  “I need you to run some faces through your facial recognition program, then see if you can run it through the current and past warrants.” Clicking on the screen, he brought up the video of the intruder at Hope’s place. Freezing it at different points, he took screenshots when the man’s face was visible.

  “Ah, back on the job?” she asked.

  “Not back with the old job, but on a job, yes.”

  The sound of excitement flittered through the line. “Freelancing? Even better money. You still have my email?”

  “Sent. And of his tattoos as well.” Abel closed the laptop and made his way to the door to check the lock.

  “Got it. What are the parameters?”

  Abel made his way to each window, prudently checking each lock. “Criminal. This state, and New York.”

  She hummed her approval. “That’s specific enough, though New York will definitely slow down the search. How soon do you need this?”

  “Yesterday,” Abel admitted. Walking over to the bed, he watched as Hope slept. She turned over, nestling deeper into the covers. Quietly, he moved back to the table, where he’d set up his work.

  “That soon, huh?” The sound of tapping on a keyboard came through the phone. “Okay, uploaded, and parameters set. I’ll allow this to run with an alarm that will send the results straight to your email.”

  “Good.” He wiped his face as exhaustion claimed him.

  V cleared her throat. “Now that that is done, did you want to talk about—”

  “No,” Abel said hurriedly.

  Her sharp sigh was all he heard. “Okay then.” Her tone lowered. “Was that all?”

  “How much?” He knew her fee, but wasn’t sure if her prices had changed. Opening his laptop again, he typed in his banking information.

  “Free. Consider it a parting gift.” Though V’s voice held not a trace of anger, Abel knew her better than most.

  “V, come on—” His words were met with a dial tone and that worried him. V never made idle threats, and if she decided to kick a person out of her life, there was no changing her mind. A soft gasp from behind him had him dropping his phone instead of redialing. He spun around and stood up to meet Hope, her gaze riveted on the items he’d laid on the table.

  “Shit.” He reached to shuffle the photos into the envelope, but she’d already seen them.

  “He knows,” she whispered. “I should leave. I can run. I don’t need much; I have jewelry I can hock.” Her eyes finally met his. “Maybe you can help me find a place that can give the money I need for the jewelry I have left?”

  Abel had thought her voice would sound panicked or drawn, but instead, Hope seemed calm and prepared—as if a life of running was one she’d always expected to live. His heart ached, but he couldn’t let his emotions run wild or guide his actions.

  “I’ve got someone matching the face of our mystery FedEx man with a name. She’s good and working under the radar.” He hoped this turn of events would lessen the shock and fear wrought by the array of shit spread out on the table. Removing the gloves he’d been wearing, he tossed them on the table.

  “Good. Who is she?” Hope moved away from him and sat in his seat. Pulling a picture closer, she examined it.

  “She?” he asked, confused. “A man delivered the box not a woman.” Abel placed a hand on the back of Hope’s seat and turned the swiveling chair around to face him. Maybe she hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and fatigue had messed with her memory.

  Hope rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m talking about the woman helping us.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh.” How would he explain it? If she caught him in a lie, she’d never trust his word again, and that was something he couldn’t allow. But did he have to tell her he’d once asked V to marry him to protect her? “I worked with her …” he started, but the trust in Hope’s eyes made him stop. “Look, she and I have a past, but it isn’t like you think.”

  “You didn’t date her?” There was no jealousy in her tone, just pure curiosity.

  “Yes and no,” he answered honestly.

  Her brow raised and her arms crossed over her chest. “What in the world does that mean? You either dated her or you didn’t.” Her nervous laughter betrayed her casual tone.

  “You’re right. But she was much more than that.” Abel was thrown back to two years earlier with his client, Ivy, hacker extraordinaire. Since then, she’d quit hacking for the shit company she worked for that nearly got her killed, and started helping him by freelancing.

  Her eyes narrowed in question. “Oh, much more?”

  He took a deep breath. “She was a job,” he revealed. “And I can’t talk about it with you right now, the same way I would never talk about what happens between us with anyone else.”

  “So, you do this all the time, do you? Just fuck your clients, then move on to the next one?” She stood, her eyes wide. “I’ll have you know that I made love to you, Abel. I don’t just walk around casually having sex.” She walked away from him. “I guess I should have said that before I spread my legs, huh?” The cynicism in her tone was a slap in the face because he’d never felt so honored to touch a woman the way he’d touched her.

  She was mumbling to herself now. “I’m so stupid, I just keep doing this shit. Finding the wrong man and latching onto him. Why do I do this?”

  There was an edge of panic in her tone, and his insensitive words had placed it there. He searched his brain for something to say to ease her worries, but what could he say?

  “Look, in the small amount of time I’ve been here, I’ve come to care about you more than I’ve let you know.” This wasn’t a confession of love, but honesty. “After this is all done, and you are safe once again, I would love to get to know you better.”

  She froze with her back to him.

  “I want to take you out to a seafood restaurant, only to find out you hate seafood. I want to take you to a romantic comedy, only to realize you’d prefer action, gore, and guts.” He slowly made his way to her. “I want you as more than a client, but I can’t give you any of that until we fix this.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “I can’t focus on us, if Mark is in the background, threatening your safety. Hope, you have to understand that.”

  She looked at the table, eyes roving over the photos and the collar. Coming to a conclusion, she nodded and met his gaze. “Okay. But when we do decide to move forward, I want to be in control. I need some control in my life. I haven’t had that in some time.” She gave a light shrug.

  Abel smirked. “Sure, but just so you remember, you were the first one to request sex.”

  Taking in a deep breath, Hope thumped his chest. “I know. You’re just so irresistible.”

  “Yeah, if I had a nickel every time I heard that,” he sai
d, feigning boastfulness.

  “Oh, God. Cocky much?” Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of Abel’s laptop chiming.

  He let his hands run down her arms and squeezed her hands before letting go. “I think this is it. We should know who Mark hired. You ready?” He motioned for her to take a seat.

  “Do I have a choice?” Hope sat at the table with Abel.

  He opened the laptop and pulled it toward them. “Okay, so that was fast. We have a hit for an Edwin Murchison from Wylie, Texas. No current warrants in New York or Kentucky. He’s been in prison for assault, battery, assault with a deadly weapon, and . . .” Abel took in a breath and clicked the screen.

  He hoped she couldn’t tell from his shuttered expression that he planned to hide what he’d just found. Because there was no way she would let that slide.

  “What are the other charges?” she asked, peeking at the screen.

  Sighing, he pulled the lid of the computer down. “The last charge was kidnapping.”

  She closed her eyes, and Abel sensed the second fear gripped her soul; a darkness stole over her, renewing his vow to make Mark pay.

  “What does this mean for us now?” she managed to ask.

  Abel thought for a moment. “We want to bring Mark to us to add to the proof of his harassment, then I’ll head to New York with you when you file for divorce and a protection order.”

  “Sounds like a plan. It was something I’d never been able to prove back in New York, but that was solely because of the amount of control Mark had over my daily actions.” She stood and began to pace. “How do we get Mark to come to us?”

  “We make sure the next few pictures of us are revealing. Piss him off enough to come to us. But this time, we’ll be prepared. I have everything I need right here.” Abel patted the gun at his hip and pointed to all his spy gear. He assumed having his help gave her a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a long time, but he understood the apprehension in her eyes.