Shattered Hearts: A Dark Romance (Bad Blood Book 1)

by Marissa Farrar

  I only knew the layout of the house from my brief run through it to find my escape route. I’d seen what looked to be an office, however, so I hurried through the house toward where I thought I’d spotted it. Water ran from my body and dripped onto the floor, and my shaking didn’t abate. Even now, while I was in this moderately warm house, I was still shivering. I needed to get out of the wet clothes, or at the very least find a dry towel. Getting sick now was not going to help my situation.

  I had clean, dry clothes down in the basement where I’d been kept, but there was no way in hell I was ever going back down there—not willingly, at least. I was also worried about bumping into Loretta. She might be sick, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have her Taser at hand—especially if Hayden had alerted her to my escape.

  My thoughts went to my captor. What would he do if the boat went down? Would he drown with it? I knew I should want him to die after everything he’d put me through, but still my stomach knotted with sadness. He’d become what he was because my father had killed someone he’d loved, and I couldn’t help but take some responsibility. A part of me wondered if perhaps I should be taking more than a small amount of responsibility. My stomach knotted again, my chest tightening, stealing my breath. No, I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about any of it.

  I’d acknowledged what my father had done, and what he had been, but I couldn’t stand to think of the part I had played in his sick madness. I couldn’t stand to think about the details, pushing them out of my head, blocking it with darkness and forgotten memories instead. Some things were too much to bear. My father had shattered my heart into a million pieces when I’d been only twelve years old, and that was something I’d never recovered from. But the pain he’d caused wasn’t limited to his daughter. It had spread like a spider’s web, catching people in its net and letting them work themselves deeper and deeper into the trap. Hayden had been a victim of that net, and yes, he’d done some terrible things himself, but in a way, we were joined in our pain, and I’d just left him out on a boat to potentially drown.

  I tried to shake off my pity.

  The guy was a psychopath; I had to remember that. In a way, he was no better than my father. I should be pleased if he drowned—it was no less than he deserved.

  In the downstairs cloakroom, I found a small hand towel and used that to dry my face and hair, and then rubbed it up and down my arms to rid myself of the worst of the rainwater. I needed some dry clothes, but I felt moderately warmer with the towel around my shoulders, and now I was out of the terrible weather. I needed to get to a phone or computer and call for help. The dry clothes could wait.

  Making my way back through the house, I found the room that appeared to be Hayden’s study. A desk faced the floor to ceiling windows which looked out onto the pool, and beyond the pool lay the ocean. The sea was dark and tumultuous, and another stab of guilt hit me at the idea of Hayden being stranded out on it. I pushed the thought from my head and remembered how I’d felt when I’d woken up in the inside of that bag, not knowing what had happened to me. Whatever happened to him was his own fault.

  I crossed the room to the computer and leaned over it and wiggled the mouse. The screen clicked and came to life, asking for a password.

  “Fuck.”

  A man like Hayden would never choose a password that would be easy to guess. There wasn’t any point in me wasting my time even trying. Leaving the computer, I searched around for a phone, but there wasn’t one. I shouldn’t have been surprised there was no landline run to the island, but I couldn’t help the dip of disappointment inside me. He must have the internet, but I guessed that was done by satellite rather than cable.

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  Where would there be a cell phone in the house? Hayden most likely would have his on him, but Loretta was still in the house somewhere. If she was sick, maybe I’d be able to sneak in and steal it from her.

  Though I knew there was little chance of finding anything useful, I pulled open the desk drawers, searching for a spare cell phone, or even something that might have the words ‘computer password’ written on them. It was a ridiculous hope, and I would have been laughing at myself if this whole thing weren’t so futile.

  My gaze alighted on a letter with a name written on the front.

  Mr. Hayden Vale.

  So that was his full name. When he’d told me he was called Hayden, I hadn’t known if it was his first name or last, or if it was even his name at all.

  I rifled through more of his mail to see the same name written over and over. I guessed it was his real name, or at least was the name he went by now. There was nothing I could do with the information—not for the moment, anyway—but it felt good to know.

  This was pointless. There was nothing here, and I’d never be able to guess Hayden’s password for the computer. My only choice was to try to find Loretta and hope I could get my hands on her cell phone, assuming she even had one.

  I straightened from the desk and turned toward the door.

  Something big and cold and wet slammed into me from the front, knocking me flat on my back.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  She didn’t even have the chance to scream.

  I landed on top of her, crushing the air from her lungs. Stupid girl. I’d known this was where she would come. She’d done so well tricking me with the boat, but then pulled a move that was utterly predictable.

  I’d had no choice but to abandon ship and swim. It was safer to leave the boat under my own choice and steam than wait for it to capsize and possibly end up trapped beneath it or sucked under by the downward motion. I had life jackets and floatation aids on board, so I’d put on one of the life jackets, thrown the flotation aid into the water, and then dived right in after it.

  The swim back to shore had been terrifying and exhausting, but I’d made it. The climb back up through the island wearing clothes not only soaked in rainwater, but seawater now, too, had been a struggle, especially after the swim in the cold water. If I hadn’t been as fit as I was, there was no way I would have made it, and I had to thank my regular gym sessions, hikes, and daily swims for that. I vowed to never let myself get out of shape to the point where it could literally mean an end to my life.

  Beneath me, Jolie wriggled and squirmed. My anger had reached a whole new level. She could have killed me, then she’d have been a murderer, just like her daddy.

  “That’s it, baby girl,” I snarled. “Keep moving like that. You’re getting me hard.”

  She froze instantly, staring up at me with those wide blue eyes I’d fallen so hard for. More fool, me. What the hell had I been thinking anyway, bringing her homecooked food and even wine? Something about her had made me lose my head, and I didn’t plan on making that same mistake twice.

  “I bet you like it though, huh?” I continued. “You got a good taste of my cock once already. I bet you’re gagging for more.”

  The memory of how it had felt to be deep in her mouth stirred my arousal, and blood rushed to my burgeoning erection. I was lying on top of her, soaking wet, and I pushed my hips down, increasing the pressure as I ground against her. Her t-shirt was almost transparent from the water, the lace of her bra clearly visible, and beneath that were the tight, dark buds of her nipples. Keeping her arms locked to her sides with my knees, I lifted the top half of my body to duck my head. I latched onto one of the hardened nipples through the wet of her t-shirt and sucked it into my mouth. I tasted rain and a little of the salt from where the seawater had dripped onto her from my body. She snatched a breath, her body rigid beneath mine, and then I bit, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to do any damage.

  Beneath me, Jolie squealed.

  I liked the sound, but I forced myself to remove my mouth from her breast.

  I was freezing from my impromptu swim, and from already being soaked through before I’d even hit the water. I needed a change of clothes, as I was leaving puddles on my expensive floor, but I ignored
all of that for the moment. The most important thing right now was to get her back down to the cellar and make sure I didn’t fall for her wiles again.

  I lifted my body slightly and patted her down. She glared at me as my hands ran over her, but I wasn’t interested in getting a handful. My fingers located a rectangle of plastic beneath the material of her clothes, and I shoved my hand into her jean pocket and pulled out the keycard for the elevator. I could override the elevator if I needed to, but it would be easier using the card, and besides, I didn’t want her to see how I’d done it. It would give her ideas I could do without her having. She was causing enough trouble without me helping her along.

  She caught her breath from the winding I’d given her when I slammed her to the floor.

  “Get your hands off me, you son-of-a-bitch.”

  I gave a cold chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in you like that. You caught me at a weak moment, that’s all. I could have any woman I wanted. Why would I want the daughter of a serial killer?”

  “Maybe because you’re as fucked up as my father, and you can only get your rocks off if a woman is forced to be completely submissive to you.”

  I returned her glare. She was lucky I was still holding her down, or I would have slapped her around the face for that comment. I was nothing like her fucking father.

  I straddled her and planted both feet on the floor then hauled her up. She was shaking, too, though I didn’t know if it was from fear or the cold. Most likely both. She wriggled and bucked against me, but I yanked her hands behind her back. I held her slender wrists tight in one hand and got my other arm around her throat. I pinned her to me like that, and though she tried to kick backward, her feet were filthy and bare, and her soles made harmless contact with the front of my shins.

  I half-pushed, half-carried her out of my office, back toward the elevator. The doors still stood open from where I’d made my escape. She saw where I was taking her, and her struggles increased.

  “No, please. Not back down there. Don’t shut me up in that room again.”

  I ignored her pleas. There was no way in hell I was going to let her run free now she’d shown me what she was capable of. We reached the elevator, and I pushed her inside. I had hold of the keycard in the hand that was around her throat. I didn’t dare let her go long enough to swipe it, so I was forced to bend us both over, her bottom fitting snugly into my crotch, to flash the card at the sensor. It beeped red, and the doors shut in front of us.

  Her body shook, but I could tell now she was crying.

  I experienced a strange combination of a pang of remorse and a stab of triumph at making her cry. I was furious with her for tricking me into thinking she liked me, and for trying to strand me out on the boat, but deep down I also wished things had gone differently.

  The elevator doors opened, and I shoved her out into her room. Everything was exactly how we’d left it—the empty plates from dinner, the clear plastic glasses tainted red from the wine.

  She’d shown me that she couldn’t be trusted now, so even though I thought she had no way of getting out of her room, I wanted her to know that I wasn’t going to take any more chances. I gave her a shove, sending her to her knees. I released her at the same time, but I wasn’t going to let her roam free for long.

  I turned and caught the elevator back to the ground floor. I found something in my office and took it back down to her. She’d managed to get off the floor, but was shivering behind the bed, hiding there like a stray puppy who’d been kicked one too many times.

  “Put out your hands,” I demanded.

  Her gaze dropped to the metal handcuffs I held. “No, please, Hayden. You don’t need to tie me up again. I’ll be good, I swear.”

  I scoffed. “You can’t actually think I’d ever trust you again. Now put out your hands.”

  “I’ll need them free for the bathroom,” she begged. “And I need to change out of my clothes. I’m soaked and freezing.”

  I gave her a rictus grin. “Same. But then someone forced me to take a little swim.”

  She at least had the courtesy to blush. “I’m sorry, Hayden. Please ...”

  I wasn’t going to let those baby blues get the better of me again. “Shut up, Jolie.”

  Her lips pressed together, and her gaze dropped to the floor.

  She was right, I couldn’t leave her in her wet clothes. If she got sick, it wasn’t as though I could bring her a doctor. With the cuffs dangling from my fingers, I crossed the room to her. She backed away, her hands up to defend herself, though there was little point. I was far bigger and stronger than she was.

  I grabbed hold of her t-shirt and tore it from her body, the material ripping down the front. She cried out and moved to hunch over, but I didn’t give her the chance. Her bra was also soaked through, so I yanked the straps from her shoulders and then reached behind her to unclip the back. She cried out again and made a feeble attempt at holding the item of clothing against her body, but I whipped it away. There were red marks on her shoulders where the material had scraped her skin, but I didn’t even care. It served her right after she’d tried to drown me at sea.

  I threw the wet bra and t-shirt to the floor.

  Her shoulders rounded, covering her naked breasts with her arms. Something stirred inside me at the sight, but I forced my mind away from those kinds of thoughts. They’d only served to get me in trouble.

  My gaze dropped to her lower half. “Those, too.”

  She shot me a glare of hatred. I knew she wanted to refuse, but she understood that there was no point.

  She turned her back to me to undo her soaking wet jeans. The material clung to her legs, and I took pleasure in watching her struggle. When she managed to roll them down her thighs, I noted how her panties were also drenched. The material had gone transparent, giving me a view of the perfect globes of her ass. It was hard not to admire the long, smooth lines of her thighs and the peachy perfection of her bottom.

  “Now the panties,” I commanded. “You’re not going to put dry clothes on over top of wet ones.”

  “I’m fine in them,” she said stubbornly.

  “Take them off, or I’ll come over there and take them off for you.”

  My threat got her moving. She used the side of the bed to partially hide herself and quickly stripped off the wet underwear.

  She was completely naked now, and I wasn’t immune to her naked body. My cock lengthened in my pants, signaling my desire. I’d had a taste of what it was like to have her mouth wrapped around my dick, my hands fisted in her silky hair, and even though I hated her with every fiber of my being, I wanted more. It would be so easy to use the cuffs on her now. I hadn’t put a four-poster bed down here for aesthetic reasons. I’d known the time might come where I’d have to cuff her to something. The thought of cuffing her to one of the posts while she was completely naked sent me dizzy with desire. She wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it if I chose to cuff her to the bed and fuck her like that. Maybe that would be her punishment for trying to kill me.

  But, as much as my body wanted it, I couldn’t bring myself to touch her in such a way. I didn’t want to see hatred and pain in her eyes when I fucked her. Even when she’d been sucking my cock, I’d seen desire in her gaze, and I didn’t think she was as good of an actress as she might give herself credit for. She had wanted me at that moment. It hadn’t all been an act.

  She had a drawer of dry clothes—I’d been the one to get Loretta to put them in there—so I forced myself to turn from her. I went to the dresser and pulled out the first top I touched. Then I found a pair of form fitting yoga pants and took those out, too. Not that I was expecting her to do much yoga while wearing handcuffs.

  I threw both items of clothing at her. They hit the floor beside her, and she glanced down at them.

  “Put them on.”

  She didn’t argue but nodded and scooped them up. She tugged on the yoga pants and pulled the t-shirt over her head, so she was fully changed while I
still stood there, soaked to the skin and dripping water onto the floor. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, however, and I couldn’t put the thought out of my mind.

  “Put out your hands,” I told her.

  She shook her head. “I’ll be good, Hayden, I promise.”

  “I’m not going to believe a single word that comes out of your mouth. Now put your wrists out in front of you, or else I cuff them behind your back, and you won’t be able to even take a piss without me helping you.”

  Reluctantly, her chin dropped to her chest, she held out her hands. The tightened buds of her nipples poked clearly through the material of her t-shirt, and I tried not to let the sight distract me. I slapped the metal rings around both wrists and closed them enough that I knew she wouldn’t get free.

  “What’s going to happen to me now?” Her voice was so soft I almost missed her question.

  “We continue with the plan.”

  “I’m not sure I even know what that plan is.”

  “It’s about getting revenge on your murderous fucking father.”

  She lifted her eyes to mine. “Who was she to you?” she asked. “The woman he killed, I mean.”

  I stared back at her, unsure if I should tell her the truth. But I discovered I wanted her to know—I wanted her to know the woman I was doing all this for.

  “He murdered my mother.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  I shouldn’t feel sorry for him after everything he’d put me through, but I couldn’t help it. My father’s poison had spread far and wide, and what was happening to me now was another result of his evil.