Vindication: Of Demons & Stones: Tri-Stone Trilogy, Book Three

by Anne L. Parks

  I snort and roll my eyes. Does he really think I'm that stupid? As if I believe there is a chance in hell he's going to let me go.

  He reaches out and grabs my left hand. Reflexively, I pull it from his grasp, but he tightens his grip. Turning my hand so the palm is down, he runs his finger over the top of the large ruby in the center of my wedding ring.

  Ringleader glances at me, his smile barely tips up the corners of his mouth. "I'm going to have to take this."

  "No." I yank my hand away, place it over my racing heart, my other hand protectively over the top.

  Muscle Man takes a couple of steps forward, and cracks his knuckles.

  Ring Leader holds his hand up and Muscle Man halts. "Mrs. Stone, I really don't want to hurt you, but if you don't let me slide the ring off your finger, I'll have my associate slice your finger off, and I'll take the ring that way." He glances over his shoulder, and then returns his cold eyes to mine. "Your choice."

  Squeezing my eyes shut as tight as I can, I look away. Please, no. This is all I have left of Alex. A sob builds in my throat, but I choke it down. I will not give them the satisfaction of knowing how much they are destroying me.

  The ring slides over my knuckle and off my finger. I'm naked without it. Something cold stirs in my soul, a hollowness in my heart, as if the two are directly linked to the band that was around my finger. Now that it's gone, the lifeblood that was sustaining them ceases to exist. And a little piece of me knows that my death will be slow and painful—and from the inside out. My heart and soul will slowly grow cold and become black holes long before I draw my last breath at the hands of my captors. The thought makes me shudder.

  "Thank you," Ringleader says. I open my eyes as he shoves the ring into his front pocket. "See how much easier it is when you cooperate?"

  My sob transforms into an angry beast within my chest and roars. "Fuck you."

  Shaking his head, Ringleader stops next to Muscle Man. "Please explain to our guest that I will not tolerate being spoken to in that manner."

  Muscle Man nods. In three strides, he is across the room, his arm cocked. Before my brain connects the dots of what is about to happen, his fist flies through the air, and connects with my jaw. The impact snaps my head back, and slams it against the wall. Spots of light from the explosion of pain illuminate my black vision like fireworks on a dark night. My body slumps over of it's own accord, and I inhale the musty, sweaty scent of the mattress before passing out.

  Eight

  Damn, I’m tired of waking up with a throbbing headache.

  Pulling myself up, I lean my back against the wall. My jaw throbs.

  Skinny Guy stands and walks toward me. “Here, put this on your face.” He drops an ice pack into my hand.

  “Thanks.” While the gesture is appreciated, I can’t let go of the reason I was punched in the face. Skinny Guy helped kidnap me. He’s guarding me so I can’t escape. I’ll likely be killed. And he’s doing all of this for money.

  “You’d feel better if you ate something,” he says, backing away until his legs hit the edge of his chair.

  I shake my head, and chuckle without humor. “I’m more worried that eating would lead me to feel nothing. I’d rather not drift to sleep and never wake up.”

  Skinny Guy’s eyes narrow, and his mouth flattens into a thin line. “You think I’m the type of person who would poison you?”

  Seriously? He’s offended?

  Moving the ice pack from my face, I toss it on the mattress beside me. “I don’t know what type of person you are other than a man who would kidnap a woman to steal money from her husband, all the while promising him that his wife of one week will be returned to him. As far as I can tell, you’re just a step away from being a murderer.”

  “I’m not a murderer,” he says through clenched teeth. He curls his hands into fists and pounds them against his knees. “I just need the money.”

  “You just need hundreds of thousands of dollars? Or is it millions? How much are you trying to swindle from my husband?”

  I have to get him talking. He needs to open up to me. The only way I will be able to twist this situation in my favor is to figure out what angle will allow me to manipulate him into helping me. “And why do you need it so desperately? I figure you’re in your mid-twenties—am I right? What is happening in your life that you need such a large sum of money?”

  “What I need it for is none of your business.”

  “Really? You’re using me to extort money that doesn’t belong to you—that you don’t deserve—and you don’t think it’s my business?” My blood is a raging river of lava, and I’m not sure when I will explode, but the likelihood is that it will be soon. I know I need to keep my anger in check, but at the moment it’s fueling me. “I’m pretty sure being taken against my will, tasered, drugged, and now beaten, makes this my business.”

  Skinny Guy lowers his head. “I need it for my mom. She’s in this rehab facility, and the insurance won’t pay for her to stay any longer. It’s like this every time. The drugs and alcohol take over until she can’t even get her ass off the couch and go to work. I get her into rehab, she stays until the insurance runs out, and then gets kicked out, and the cycle starts all over because she’s not ready to leave.” He lifts his head enough to peer at me under the blonde hair that is sticking out of the eye holes in his ski mask. “That’s not going to happen this time. This time, she’s going to stay in there as long as she needs to, and if that means I have to rob a rich bitch and her husband—who have more money than they will ever be able to spend in a lifetime—then that’s what’s going to happen.”

  Rich bitch? Not always. I grew up poor and didn’t even have insurance. After my mom took off, and my dad fell apart, going to the doctor was not in the cards until I got to college. But this gives me an advantage. I was once like him, scrounging for whatever I could to survive.

  “You know, I wasn’t always in this position. I grew up not far from here, and I know what it’s like to have a parent who is an alcoholic and can’t function without tying one on. I can help you. Your mother will never have to worry about money again. And you won’t have to split the ransom between the other two, and hope it’s enough.

  A spark lights Skinny Guy’s eyes.

  I lean forward. “Help me get out of here, and I promise my husband will make sure you’re rewarded for saving me.”

  Inhaling deeply through his nose, he holds his breath for a moment and releases it. “You don’t get it. If I double-cross them, they’ll hunt me down and kill me. Besides, this is way bigger than a ransom—at least for the big boss. We’ll get our cut of the money, and a whole lot more.”

  What the hell? “What do you mean? Who is the big boss?”

  Skinny Guy shakes his from side to side. “No more—I’m not telling you anymore, except this—” He glances at me. “According to the big boss, you’re the gift that will keep on giving.” Picking up a magazine from under his chair, he flips through it.

  Apparently, our conversation is over. But what the hell did he mean, I’m the gift that keeps on giving? And who the hell is the big boss?

  Leaning my head back against the wall, I inhale deeply. There is so much more to this than a simple kidnapping and ransom scheme. Something sinister is at play.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a shiver runs down my spine. There is only one person who is evil enough to want to hurt Alex and me, and want to string it out for as long as possible.

  John.

  Nine

  Warmth envelopes me. An arm is draped over my hip, a body snuggled in close behind me as I lay on my side. I inhale the musky oak scent.

  Alex.

  I exhale. It was all a dream. A horrible nightmare. I’m safe. Home, in bed, wrapped in the security of the man I love. Nothing can hurt me here, and if I had my way, I would never leave his comforting embrace.

  “Are you happy?” Alex whispers in my ear, his voice gravelly and still sleepy.

 
“Insanely.”

  Rolling over, I take his face in my hands. The growth along his jaw is rough but soft at the same time. Just like the man whose eyes I’m getting lost in. Two sides of the same coin, hard-edged businessman, but gentle and caring in his private life. I love both sides of him.

  I lean in and brush my lips over his, our foreheads resting against one another. God, how I love these quiet moments when it’s just the two of us, floating in the abyss between reality and dream where nothing can hurt us. Or separate us. Not the stars or the moon, no earthly worries. No madmen.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the happily ever after I promised,” Alex says.

  I still. My heart falters, the beats erratic. What is he talking about? “Alex, you are giving me happily ever after. I love you, and we’re going to be together forever.”

  “Alex is gone.”

  I open my eyes, and my worst fears are confirmed. John smiles, his dark eyes glinting in the dark night that now surrounds us. I scramble to get away, but his arms are around me. I’m trapped in the embrace of my stalker.

  “I told you, Kylie. You will always be mine.”

  I sit up too quickly. My head reels from the sudden shift from sleep to alert. Alex to John. Happiness to heartbreak. The nightmare had been so real, but reality is right in front of me. Cold, stale room. Filthy, moth-eaten mattress. Kidnapper in his chair preventing my escape.

  I have to get serious and formulate a plan. I need to get back to Alex. He is my world. Life has come into focus since I met him. I’m not sure I had a real plan for my future beyond getting up each day and going to work. That’s all changed now.

  My life is a hot-air balloon filled with love. When the balloon starts to fall from the sky, I just need to turn to Alex. His love fills my heart—fills the hot-air balloon—and I am once again soaring amongst the clouds of hope. Since I’ve met Alex, I’ve learned the gift of loving and being loved. I want to go to sleep in his arms and wake next to his warm body pressed against mine. I want forever with him. And I refuse to allow our future to be taken away by these greedy assholes.

  I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I can no longer wait around to be rescued. I vowed that I would never let anyone control my life but me. Now is the time to do whatever I have to do to get away from here.

  The time has come to save my happily ever after with Alex.

  Skinny Guy is watching me from his perch across the room.

  I rub my chin. Still sore, but the swelling seems to have gone down. “Given anymore thought to my proposal?”

  “No.” He turns his head away, but there’s nothing in the room to look at. Even the windows are set too high on the wall to see outside. “They’re not going to kill you.”

  “You can’t really be that naive. Once they have no more use for me, they will get rid of me.”

  He shakes his head, but continues staring at the wall.

  “If money is truly all you want, then let me help you. I can get you the amount of the ransom and you won’t have to share with them. Just get me out of here. Get me to a phone. I’ll call my husband and have him bring the money. You can go on your way and we can both live long, happy lives.”

  Still no reaction. This angle is obviously not going to work. Think, Kylie. There has to be something to shake him, and get him to switch sides.

  “Consider this,” I say. “If you do it their way, you only get a third of the money. You won’t be able to use that to help your mother. All of that money will have to be used to go into seclusion. Once I’m dead, there will be no rock my husband won’t turn over to find my killers. There will be nowhere for you to hide. If you’re lucky, he’ll turn you over to the authorities. That will be the only way you will avoid a deliberately slow, agonizing death.”

  Skinny Guy jerks his head around, eyes wide. His chest rises and falls a few times. A smile slides across his face, and he snorts. “And spend the rest of his life in prison? Not buying it.”

  “Risky gamble, but I can assure you, there is nothing my husband won’t do for me—including avenging my death—even if it means he is convicted and given the death penalty.” I lean forward, my gaze drilling into the young man. “Are you willing to take that risk with your life?”

  He walks across the room and squats beside me. “You have no idea what’s going on here.” He runs his finger over my bruised jaw. “You’d be smart to shut the hell up and stop giving them a reason to hurt you.”

  Skinny Guy stands and turns away. He raps a knuckle against the door, and the lock clicks.

  Fuck! What else is going on? What do they have planned for me? Are they going to use me to hurt Alex some other way? Are they going to lure him into a trap?

  How the hell am I going to get out of here?

  I glance at the door, and find my answer. Skinny Guy didn’t close it completely, and it’s sitting unlatched and slightly ajar.

  Ten

  I scoot to the edge of the mattress and tiptoe across the room to the door. The pounding of my heart in my ears is deafening. My chest heaves up and down, and I force my breathing to slow. I don’t know what or who is on the other side of this door, and I would prefer not to give my presence—or the open door—away by breathing heavy.

  The gravity of the situation weighs on my shoulders, and my mind. I have one shot at getting out of here. If I’m caught, there is no telling what they will do to me. Skinny Guy assures me that there is no plan to kill me, but he’s a kidnapper, so I’d be a fool to place much stock in the statement. Even if he is telling the truth, there is a good chance I will be beaten, and end up wishing I was dead.

  Muscle Man seems more than happy to pummel me within an inch of my life.

  My legs wobble and my knees threaten to give out. I haven’t had any food or water in a coupe of days, at least, and have spent all my time either sitting or sleeping on the mattress. This is the first time I’ve stood or walked since my last failed escape. I send up a quick prayer that I’m more successful in my quest to get free.

  Peeking out through the opening, I breathe out a sigh of relief that no one is standing guard outside the door. Slowly—carefully—I open it and poke my head around the doorframe. There’s a hallway that opens into a small kitchen area. Unless I’m mistaken, and I hope to God I’m not, just beyond that is a living room, and a front door.

  Dammit! I wish I knew for sure the floor plan of the house. There is no time to go on a scouting expedition. The chances Skinny Guy will leave the door unlocked and unlatched again is slim to none. I’ll have to assess the situation as it unfolds, and head for the nearest door with the most potential. And pray that I’m right.

  Taking a deep breath, I step out of the room, and move down the hallway. At the end of the hall, I flatten my back against the wall, and listen for any noise in the kitchen. I don’t hear anything. Where are the other two men?

  Risking a peek around the corner, I see Muscle Man sitting at the table with his back to me. I can’t see a door off the kitchen. It’s probably in a mudroom not visible from my vantage point. Glancing around the corner, into an empty living room, I find the front door.

  This is it. Squaring my shoulders, I quietly take a step towards the living room. A latch clicks and a door hinge squeaks behind me.

  “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Skinny Guy. Of course he would get done with his business right before I make a run for it.

  No time to think. I bolt towards the door. Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of Muscle Man rising. The chair he sat in crashes to the floor.

  Halfway to the door. A few more steps. I reach my hand out in front of me to grasp the doorknob, and yank on it. The door remains shut. I twist the knob again, pulling as hard as I can. Lifting my eyes, I find the deadbolt. The key that would allow me to unlock it and escape is not in the lock.

  Fuck!

  I spin around. Muscle Man is two steps away from me. Stepping to the side, I manage to avoid his capture. Running back towards the kitchen, I round
the corner, intent on finding the back door. My nose slams into Skinny Guy’s chest. Pain shoots up my nasal passage and explodes across my brain. My eyes water, blurring my vision. Hands wrap around my biceps just as my legs give out under me.

  “Going somewhere, bitch?” Muscle Man is behind me. My skin prickles from his breath against my neck. He grasp the collar of my sweater, the fabric taut as a rope strangling me. He drags me through the living room and down the hallway, my feet slipping out from under me.

  The fabric tightens around my neck. I can’t breath. My windpipe is shut tight. He releases his grip on my collar and tosses me onto the mattress. I gasp, inhaling deep gulps of air, my lungs burning as they expand and deflate. My head feels as if someone has poured gallons of water inside, and my brain sloshes around in my skull. My limbs are numb, lifeless, and limp, which is probably why I didn’t notice Muscle Man straddling my chest, his knees pinning my arms to the mattress.

  The room spins, and my vision blurs. I close my eyes hoping it will help settle my brain. The first blow hits me along my jaw, in the same spot he punched me yesterday. Before I can react, another blow comes from the other side. A distinct metallic taste coats my tongue. Blood fills my mouth and drains into my throat. I choke, and the blood spews from my mouth.

  “You fucking bitch!”

  I open my eyes. Muscle Man is wiping my blood from his face. The red sticky substance is splattered over his chest and upper arms. He raises his hand to strike me.

  “Stop him.” Skinny Guy. I can’t see him. Muscle Man’s broad chest blocks my view of the room.

  I turn my head away, and the blow lands on the side of my head. Pain burst throughout my ear. Loud ringing fills my head, mixing with the pain in some sort of evil blender. I need to open my eyes, see what is coming next, but the pain has glued them shut.