“How much more romantic does it get than what we have right now?”
“You mean the part where we are lying next to your dead body? You’re a smart guy. You’ll figure it out.” She scooted up and kissed his cheek, and as she scooted back down he kissed the top of her head.
*****
The vehicle slowed to a stop. “We must be at the border,” Paul whispered. “Hold very still.”
They heard muffled voices, and then the back doors opened up. Dr. Roth spoke to someone. “Do you need to see the bodies?”
“Why are there two body bags, sir? I was told you’d be transporting one.”
“One body is a palace employee, Michael Grossman, who died recently. His family lives in Slaterville and requested his body be brought to them for burial. Reginald told me to take them both to Slaterville. It was a last-minute decision, but feel free to call him for verification, if you like. I’m in no rush.” Dr. Roth’s voice had a nonchalant tone.
Paul and Sierra heard the distinctive sound of grating metal as the zipper on the other body bag was being pulled open. Dr. Roth said, “Have you ever seen a charred body, soldier? It’s definitely something you’ll never forget.”
“Whoa! You’re right. What a way to die.”
“Did you know Mr. Grossman?”
Sierra noticed the bag material lift above their faces as the zipper was grasped. The tension of the moment weighed heavy on Sierra. They were so close to escaping, so close to have everything go wrong. Sierra could tell Paul felt the incredible strain of the moment too. Neither one of them dared breathe, but they couldn’t keep their breaths hushed for long. A third voice joined the conversation. “Sir, Reginald Rawlings just phoned and informed that Dr. Roth would be transporting two bodies on his approval, codeword alpha.”
“Alright then. On your way, Doctor.” The bag settled slowly onto Paul’s head.
“Thank you.”
The door to the van closed, and they started moving again.
They both exhaled, letting out all of the tension from the moment. Sierra moved her lips up Paul’s neck until she found his mouth. She kissed him gently, then slid back down and carefully rested her head on his chest.
“Reginald didn’t know Dr. Roth was transporting two bags,” Sierra said.
“I know. I don’t understand it either.”
Thirty minutes later Dr. Roth pulled over and opened the back of the van. “Alright, kids, you can come out now.” He unzipped the bag and helped Sierra out. “How’s the leg, Sierra?”
“Dr. Roth, I would like to be called Sara from now on. Sierra Montgomery is dead. Paul and his family all call me by Sara.”
“Well, that explains a lot. All this time I thought Paul was pronouncing your name wrong, but he was calling you Sara. ”
“My leg is fine. Paul’s ribs, on the other hand, are probably hurting him.”
It was true. Paul couldn’t sit up straight by himself. Dr. Roth helped him and then pulled out a couple of pain pills for him to take. “We’re going to stop in Slaterville to drop off the pseudo-Paul. After that we’ll drive to Northtown. I’ve made arrangements for your parents to meet us at my folks’ home.”
“My parents are alright then?” Paul felt excitement filling his soul.
“As far as I could tell.”
Sierra asked, “Dr. Roth, what happened back at the border? How did we get past?”
“Apparently one of the border patrollers is an insurgent and knew exactly what to say to his superior. We can all be thankful for that because we were mere millimeters away from being discovered. I think I’ve aged ten years since you came into my life, Paul.”
Sierra and Paul climbed back in the van and sat on the floor. Dr. Roth got behind the wheel and pulled back on the road — the road to freedom.
*****
Dr. Roth turned the van into the driveway of his childhood home. “I wasn’t lying when I asked Reginald for some personal time with my family,” he said. He opened the side door and helped Paul and Sierra out of the van.
Paul watched as his mother and father came running out of the house with ear-to-ear smiles.
“Oh Paul, I’m so happy you’re alive!” His mother grabbed his head and plastered kisses in his hair.
Sierra watched the tender action from mother to son, and her eyes watered up. She wouldn’t ever have that ever again because of the ruthless Rawlings family. Her determination solidified even further to defy the dictator.
Zachary came over to Sierra and gave her a huge hug. “Welcome to the family, Sara.”
Elsie tried to hug Paul, but he fought her off. Dr. Roth came to his rescue. “He has broken ribs and a very sore back, Mrs. Bronson.”
“Doctor, we owe you everything,” Elsie said and hugged him tightly. “Thank you for this. Thank you for bringing back my boy.”
Dr. Roth issued a heartfelt “You’re welcome.”
Martha came out of the house along with Dr. Roth’s parents. “Get your hind ends inside before someone sees you!” She had a large smile on her face and gave Paul and Sierra a kiss on each cheek as they walked past her.
Paul turned and found Dr. Roth speaking to Martha. “You must be Martha Bronson.”
“That I am, young man.”
“A certain individual from the insurgents doesn’t like you very much.”
Martha chuckled. “That would be Clive, I’m guessing.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why the hard feelings?”
“Clive has a way of using people for his own gain. He lost his direction many years ago, and I tried to point it out to him. He made a vital mistake, and his wife was executed by Reginald, and he blamed me. It’s a typical reaction for any man who uses people: blame someone else when a plan goes awry. I’m shocked he helped you at all.”
“He hoped I’d join his team once I got back to Rendier. In the end, I’m no better than he is, I guess. I used him for my own gain, and that of Sierra — I mean Sara and Paul. Once Clive realizes I’m not coming back, he’ll blow a gasket,” John chuckled.
“Understandably so.”
“He expressed a great deal of dislike for the Montgomery family and promised that if Sara was captured she’d be killed.”
Martha said, “The Montgomery name is the most powerful name in all of Rendier, and Clive knows it. I don’t doubt for a second that he’d have her killed. In fact, he’s already tried repeatedly more times than you are probably aware of. In my opinion, Clive is striving for the throne. He’s placing his people one at a time in the palace so when the timing is right, he can stage a successful coup. If a Montgomery is roaming around the palace, his coup will fail because even his own followers regard the ousted monarchy as being better than him.”
“That makes sense and explains more than you know. The question is, would Rendier be in any better hands if he took over?”
“Absolutely not. It would be the same song, different radio station.”
“Is there any hope for Rendier’s future?”
Martha took a breath and glanced in the direction of the house. “The Montgomery girl is the only one who could help Rendier and bring the Rawlings family’s rule successfully to an end.”
*****
Sam arrived shortly after Sara and Paul did, and it took most of the evening to get caught up on everything that had happened since the raid.
Zachary had been successful at turning the guards’ allegiance away from Reginald, but he wasn’t quick enough to reach Paul at the cabin to warn him. They all agreed it wouldn’t have mattered. There really wasn’t anywhere they could have run to, and that line of conversation meandered to ways the cabin could become a better hide-out.
Another general consensus was that the Bidells got what they deserved. Greg had been warned by Zachary that Reginald and Victor Rawlings wouldn’t have any use for him, and it ended up being truer than even he thought it would be. The news announced Greg’s death as a mugging incident, and his parents were said to have simply disappeared w
ithout a trace. Maybe they fled, maybe they were taken. No one knew, and no one was even looking further into it.
Sam had made the decision to flee in the middle of the night with his crossers. Even though it went against what he’d been instructed to do, it saved his life and all six defectors. He drove north to a secure location and waited for things to cool down before surfacing.
Paul told everyone about how he and Sara had stayed in the tunnel for a whole day and then moved to the cabin after dark. When Zachary heard how much trouble the getaway car had given them, his head fell. Paul reassured him that everything had worked out in the end. Paul went on to tell them about Sara falling in the creek and her narrow escape from a frozen death.
He told everyone about the happenings at the palace but glazed over the abuse and the fact that Victor had slept with Sara. Paul lied further by saying that Sara and Victor had only been married a matter of hours when their deaths were convincingly faked, thanks to Dr. Roth.
Paul looked at Dr. Roth hoping he would follow his lead and not expose the uglier details of the palace. He didn’t.
“Sara,” Elsie asked, “what do you plan to do with your new life?”
She turned to Paul and replied, “Whatever I do, it will be with Paul.”
Paul’s face reddened as all eyes moved to him. “Well, eventually, we will house crossers if the need still calls for it. For now, we’d better drop off the map entirely.”
Martha spoke up. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s likely the Bidells weren’t the only spies living in Slaterville. That’s why I’ve already made plans to take the two of you north to Densfield.”
Late in the night, they said goodbyes and Grandma Martha drove Paul and Sierra to Densfield. Zachary, Elsie, and Sam would be returning to Slaterville to act the part of mourning Paul. They would go through the motions of a funeral and make statements to the press to validate their stories. The fake body of Paul Bronson would have a proper burial just in case Reginald or Victor decided to venture to Slaterville.
After sixteen hours of driving, Paul, Sierra, and Martha arrived in Densfield. They found a small hotel room and relaxed as much as they could. Paul and Sierra sat on the bed with pillows propped behind Paul to support his ribs, and Sierra cuddled next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. Martha sat at the table talking on the phone, making living arrangements for them. On the television, a news report told of the funeral for Sierra Montgomery Rawlings.
They watched as the reporter announced that the threat to Sierra’s life, sadly, was real. The public wedding had been called off due to threats, and the marriage had taken place in private. It was unclear how the assassination went down, but officials quickly apprehended the suspect and executed him on the spot.
A picture of Sierra with her birth and death dates flashed on the screen. It was the shot from the press conference when she looked back over her shoulder.
Paul kissed the top of her head, and she looked up at him.
“I’m really dead. We’re going to need to change our names.”
“Just our last name,” Paul replied.
Martha put her hand over the phone and said, “Make it Cutler. Cutler is my maiden name.”
Sierra tried out the sound of it. “Paul and Sara Cutler. I love it. I love you, Paul.” She smiled, looked up and kissed Paul.
“I love you, Sara Cutler, with all my heart. Will you marry me?” He ran his fingers down the side of her face.
“Yes.”
*****
Riley Stone stood away from the group of mourners at the cemetery. Snowflakes fell reverently, almost symbolically. The silence of the surrounding area seemed to punctuate the profoundness of the moment. The pastor murmured a prayer or rite of passage for her soul or something like that; Riley didn’t care. All he knew was what he felt. He felt empty, stripped of all his will to live, tromped on by people more powerful than he was, once again.
How did this come to be? How could he have let this happen? Why was he powerless to prevent it? Sierra was gone forever now. Gone! This was all Clive Roberts’s fault. He had pressed Riley to befriend Victor, pushed him because there was no other in the underground of the same age except for Elinore Steinman. Apparently, she’d been pushed to the forefront now since she was sitting between Victor and her own father, General Steinman.
Clive’s tutoring on how to associate with and act like Victor had paid off somewhat. Victor had accepted him as a friend, peculiar as their relationship might be. Victor still accepted him. Riley could see Victor’s powerful future, and he wanted to be part of it.
Clive taught Riley how to win with the girls. Victor could certainly have any girl he wanted, and if Riley was to be his friend, then he would need to be able to do the same. Riley’s outer appearance had been tended to courtesy of Clive. The best stylists, top personal trainers, and dieticians all helped him transform into an undeniably handsome man during his teen years. He could have any girl he wanted, and he’d had plenty. But the one girl he wanted most of all could see through his shallowness. She was the only one who mattered to him; her opinion meant everything. It hurt to know he had been rejected because of his association with Clive. Now, she lay in the casket before him.
Clive had warned him not to associate with Sierra Montgomery. He had said she was off limits, but that just made Riley want her more. Clive told him that any focus on Sierra would bring about Victor’s attentions; that was true. That Riley truly regretted. But Riley had been torn between love and power. He thought he could have both. He could rise in power beside Victor with Sierra by his side. Only the further things progressed, Riley realized Sierra would be by Victor’s side, not his.
Why wouldn’t she listen to him? Why did she hate him so? He had truly meant it when he told her he could hide her and reinvent her. But she looked at him with that look of disgust in her eye, and it hurt. That look was the last one he’d gotten from her before finding out the devastating news. She would never look upon him again.
What he wouldn’t do to see her eyes again, even if they held loathing for him. At least she would be alive, and he could continue to try to win her over. Riley blinked back the tears that formed in his eyes. He looked at Elinore Steinman’s profile, and a wave of hatred filled his entire being. She represented Clive. She would now be the star puppet in the show. Her strings would be controlled by Clive, and it made Riley sick to think about it.
Why should Clive be allowed to have so much power? Who did he think he was? The only consolation in Riley’s mind was that he knew Victor’s weaknesses, and Clive did not. He applauded himself for not revealing these to Clive.
At that very moment, the sun shined through a break in the clouds, illuminating the snowflakes as if they had become energized with electricity. Riley’s mind cleared, and his revenge began to take form. This light literally illuminating his mind set in motion his plan to rise above all those who had taken everything from him. Riley vowed right there, at that moment, even as the gentle snowflakes lightly touched Sierra’s coffin, that he would avenge her death. He would rise above Clive Roberts. He would rise above Victor. Somehow, someday, someway, he would prevail.
###
Sample chapter
Book two in the Scars of Defiance series:
The Dictator’s Daughter
Twenty-seven years later, Paul and Sara have successfully continued defying the Rawlings family. Victor is now ruler of Rendier, Paul and Sara’s adult children help operate the crosser home in Slaterville and the latest defectors seem to have all stumbled onto a questionable financial racket operated by Victor. The newest young man to arrive isn’t at all who he seems to be—in fact, he isn’t a young man at all.
Enjoy the preview of chapter one from The Dictator’s Daughter.
Chapter one
In the dark cold room, Eliwese sat nearly naked on the floor with her back against the wall and her knees pulled close to her chest. She shivered from the coolness, due to the fact she’d been stripped down to her bra a
nd panties before being shoved inside, which perplexed her. Why was she being treated this way? This was supposed to be a safe location. And yet, upon arrival she was treated like a prisoner, even though her identity was well known to all.
Another tremor shot through her body. Her petite shoulders and neck might have been a little warmer at present if she hadn’t chopped off her long auburn locks that had taken most of her twenty-two years to grow to the small of her back. However, she knew cutting and dyeing her only pride and joy was a necessity to further her disguise and complete her mission.
The dank room was void of furniture and the color of the walls reminded her of the pond at the sewage treatment plant. The dusty hardwood floor held no heat and gave zero comfort. Her eyes traveled up to a minuscule window set high on the wall on the other side of the room letting in a small amount of light. Oddly enough, security bars were attached to the outside of the opening. The chance of anyone escaping through such a small gap was depressing enough. What purpose did the bars serve?
She heard low male voices outside the door, her whole body tensed with fear and she pulled her knees even closer to her chest.
The rusty hinges on the door squealed as it was pushed open. Her eyes squinted shut due to the extreme difference in lighting. Once they adjusted she saw the silhouettes of three muscular, broad-shouldered men stalking toward her while a fourth stood in the doorway. She inched away from them as much as she could. She smelled rank sweat and strong liquor and heard the low rumble of their collective breathing as they stood over her like sentinels, blocking her in and preventing her escape.
The man at the door issued the two-word command the three men were waiting for.
“Do it.” He said with little more than a rasp as he turned away and closed the door.
Pain beyond measure ripped through her small body. She would have screamed if the first kick to her ribs hadn’t taken her wind away. Never before had she been beaten like this, and she had had her share of beatings. Her mind settled on the all too familiar place of tranquility, the place she took her mind when her surroundings were too much to handle —a beautiful beach with crystal blue water and cloudless skies, perhaps it was somewhere in the Caribbean— She fell over sideways and curled up in the fetal position in an effort to protect her body as much as possible. Darkness overtook her as she lost consciousness.
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