He arrived on the outskirts of the Sanders’ ranch a couple of minutes later. Tori’s car sat next to a jacked-up four-wheel drive, and a red sports car rested on the other side.
Taking a step toward the tree line that bordered the house, Damien stopped as two giant wolves suddenly lifted their growling heads over the railing of the porch, showing enough teeth to strike fear in the largest of men.
Damien could kill them both without much of a fight, but not without alerting the occupants of the house of his presence.
“Damn it,” Damien muttered, blurring his way back in the direction he’d come, stopping only when he reached his hotel…and his car.
He dug out his phone and dialed Tori’s cell.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, beautiful. Are you busy?”
“I’m visiting a friend and her new baby. I think I told you about them.”
“Yes. Would you like to grab a drink this evening?”
Tori briefly hesitated. “Sure. Any place in particular?”
“I could pick up some wine and stop by your place, or we could go to a bar of your choice.”
Another pause, only longer this time. “Okay. Do you have something to write with?”
“Yes,” he smoothly lied.
She gave him her address. “What time should I expect you?”
He heard a man’s voice in the background, one that obviously belonged to Jaxon Sanders. “How about sevenish?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” The line went dead.
With a smile on his face, Damien stuffed the phone back into his jeans pocket. He would see Tori again in a little more than an hour. And Psycho. He could never forget Psycho.
Chapter Fifteen
“Who was that?” Claire asked while changing Grayson’s diaper.
“Damien. The guy I told you about the other day.”
“Oh, yes. I remember. How did that go?”
Tori hedged, pretending to be interested in the baby trinkets on Grayson’s dresser. “It was fine. He wants to see me again tonight.”
“Is he hot?”
The excitement in Claire’s voice brought a smile to Tori’s face. “Yeah, he’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Who’s gorgeous?” Jaxon breezed into the room and kissed his wife on the forehead before bending over the crib to pick up his son.
“Tori’s new man,” Claire quipped with a grin.
“He’s not my man. I barely know him. And besides, he lives in Alaska and will probably be heading home any day now.” Somewhere deep inside, it hurt to admit that.
Claire trailed over and pinched Tori on the cheek. “You never know, Tori. He may fall head over heels and end up staying.”
Jaxon piped in before Tori could respond. “Does this gorgeous being that’s going to sweep you off your feet have a name?”
“Damien Devain.”
He stilled. “Did you say Devain?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?” Tori noticed a change in Jaxon’s demeanor, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it could be.
“No. Of course not. Why don’t you invite him over for dinner while he’s in town?”
Tori relaxed a little at Jaxon’s offer. “I would love for you guys to meet him. I’ll ask him tonight.” She moved over and kissed Grayson’s soft head. “See you soon, little man.”
With a tight hug to Claire and a wink in Jaxon’s direction, Tori hurried from the room and practically jogged to her car. She couldn’t remember ever being as nervous or excited about anything as she was at seeing Damien again.
* * * *
Victoria made it home a few minutes later with less than an hour before Damien’s expected arrival.
Jogging up the steps, she unlocked the door and let herself inside. A quick shower and change of clothes were on the agenda, along with a plan of tidying up the living room.
“In a hurry, little dove?”
Tori’s heart jumped into her throat. She reached for the shotgun normally sitting by the front door, but found it missing.
“Looking for this?” Harvey sat on the sofa, holding the gun in his lap, stroking it as he would a lover.
“How did you get in here?” She took a step back, still gripping the doorknob in her sweaty palm.
“With my key. You really shouldn’t hide yours in such an obvious place. Anyone with ill intentions could let themselves in while you’re not home. I made a copy weeks ago.”
“Get out. You have no right to be here.” She hated the tremble in her voice and the fact that her legs wouldn’t seem to move.
“Is that any way to speak to your daddy?”
“You’re not my father. You never have been.” Her gaze darted toward the porch, gauging the time it would take her to reach her car.
He lifted the shotgun, aiming the barrel in her direction. “Come, have a seat and give your daddy a hug.”
Nausea rolled through her at the thought of her body touching his in any way. “I’d rather stand.”
“It wasn’t a request.” He raised the shotgun another notch. “It would be a shame for your mother to learn of her daughter’s death from the papers. Breaking and entering is more common in these parts than you may think.”
Tori took a small step forward on shaky legs.
“Shut and lock the door first.”
The room tilted beneath her feet, taking her breath and scattering her thoughts. Fear became a living thing inside her.
“Harvey, please put the gun down,” she pleaded, the click of the door echoing in her ears with sudden finality.
He slowly got to his feet. “You haven’t been out to the house in months, sweet Tori. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”
Slithering over, he wrapped a hand in her hair, pulling her head back at an awkward angle. “You haven’t forgotten your dear old daddy, have you?”
“I will never forget you, Harvey Cohen,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Not as long as I draw breath.”
Clutching her hair tighter, he jerked her against him, tossing the gun to the couch and seizing her chin in a painful grip. “That’s good, my dove. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.”
He suddenly reached up and grabbed a handful of her shirt, ripping it down the middle and tearing her necklace from her throat in the process. It dropped to the floor with a clink and rolled beneath the couch.
“Let’s see how much you have filled out over the years.”
Tori bit back a scream of horror as the realization of her circumstances became terrifyingly clear.
Her past came rushing back with a vengeance. The helplessness, the fear and loathing, the sickening knowledge of what was sure to come next. “Don’t do this. I have company coming in a few minutes. You won’t get away with it.”
Uncertainty flickered in his eyes before smoothing out into the relentless mask of determination she knew all too well. “You expect me to believe that?”
He clutched her chin tighter as his other hand moved up her stomach to crush her breast in an agonizing grip that stole her breath.
She cried out against the pain, attempting to jerk away, but he easily overpowered her.
“Does that hurt, little dove? You like it rough, don’t you?” He dragged his mouth up the side of her face to her ear. “Tell me you like it.”
Tori’s body shook with sharp spears of agony. Tears spilled from her eyes with the effort of holding back the words he wanted to hear.
“Say it,” he snarled, twisting the skin of her tender breast.
A loud knock sounded at the door, ricocheting throughout the room in welcome relief. “Walton County Sheriff’s office,” a deep voice carried through the door.
Harvey’s eyes turned wild, glancing around the room before landing on the shotgun he’d tossed onto the couch.
He let go of her and snatched up the loaded weapon. “Not a word.”
The pounding resumed on the door. “Walton County Sher
iff’s office. Open up, Miss Blanchard. We need to talk to you.”
Victoria stared at her stepfather as he held the gun in her direction and prayed the officers wouldn’t give up and leave.
“Miss Blanchard?” The voice grew louder from the porch.
Harvey’s entire countenance exuded panic, and judging from the hysteria in his eyes, Tori knew that she would die the minute the threat of law enforcement disappeared.
“Just a second, officer. I’m getting dressed,” she called out without taking her gaze from the barrel of that gun.
“You little slut.” Harvey’s finger hovered over the trigger of the shotgun. His hands shook, and spittle dripped from the corner of his mouth. “One word about me being here, and your precious mama will pay for it.” He crept toward the kitchen without taking his gaze from her.
The second Harvey disappeared from view, Tori rushed on shaky legs to her bedroom and changed her shirt before heading back to answer the door.
“May I help you?” she managed to ask while holding on to what little composure she could muster.
Two officers stood on the porch, squinting beneath the glare of the hundred-watt lightbulb she’d installed a few months earlier. The taller of the two spoke first. “Is everything all right, ma’am?”
Tori wanted to scream no, that there was a monster holding her at gunpoint, but fear for her mother’s life kept her quiet. “Yes, I’m fine. Why are you here?”
The shorter blond officer stepped forward. “We got a call about gunshots being fired in your area.”
“Shots? I haven’t heard anything. But I just got home a few minutes ago.”
“Mind if we have a look around to be sure?”
Her heart beat painfully in her terrified chest. She glanced back toward the kitchen, praying that Harvey hadn’t left to make good on his promise of harming her mother. “Have a look, but as I said, I haven’t heard anything.”
Psycho darted past the officers and ran between Tori’s feet seconds ahead of her closing the door. The cat hissed and sprinted off down the hall, nearly knocking a small table over in his wake.
Tori had always prided herself on remaining calm in the face of danger, even when her insides quaked with terror. But Harvey had a way of taking her control and reducing her to the mind of an eleven-year-old child.
She closed the door and inched her way toward the kitchen, afraid to find him standing there, yet even more afraid to find him gone. She would take anything he dished out if it meant him not harming her mother.
“Harvey?” she whispered, rounding the corner to find the back door ajar and her stepfather missing, along with the loaded shotgun. He’d taken her security.
She had no weapon to defend herself, and Harvey had a key to her house. He would be back. Of that she had no doubt.
Chapter Sixteen
Damien pulled out of the parking lot of his hotel with a bottle of the finest wine he could locate in the small town. He would be with his Victoria in less than ten minutes’ time.
Did he honestly think her his? He did. And God help him, he could imagine his uncle Azrael’s reaction to that fact.
His cell suddenly rang from the passenger’s seat where he’d tossed it earlier.
Checking the caller ID, he noticed his uncle’s name on the display screen. “Speak of the devil,” he murmured aloud, snatching up the phone. “Hello, uncle.”
“Damien. What news of Sanders?”
Damien inwardly sighed. How was he to tell his uncle there had been a change in plans? He would find another way to take down the Sanders family without involving Victoria. “I’m working on it, uncle. These things take time if they are to be done right.”
Azrael went silent for a moment. “You have been there for days now without results. That creature still lives and breathes while my sweet Ursula lies in a cold grave.”
Guilt filled Damien instantly. He should have killed Alfred by now instead of running around town chasing after a blonde-haired angel that looked amazing in a pair of jeans. “I will take care of Alfred. Never doubt. I need a little more time to get it done right.”
“Time isn’t something we have the luxury of, Damien. If Sanders realizes you’re there, he may put two and two together. If that happens, he will stop at nothing to prevent you from exposing him.”
Damien intentionally left out the part about running into Alfred in the alley. “As I said before, I’ll handle it. He’ll never know what hit him.”
“See that you do,” Azrael barked before ending the call.
More guilt flooded Damien’s senses. A member of his family had been taken from her husband and children while her murderer continued to run free.
Anger rose up to replace the guilt. Once he had the information needed to bring down the Sanders family, he would kill every last one of them. Starting with Alfred himself before moving on to his precious son, Jaxon.
Another thought struck. Jaxon now had a newborn son. Damien didn’t relish killing an innocent child, no matter how justified he felt his reasoning to be.
He ran a hand down his face in exasperation. If he left the child alive, his uncle would only send someone else to finish the job and denounce Damien in the process. Damien would figure out what to do with the infant after taking care of Alfred and Jaxon.
Perhaps he would drop the baby off at an orphanage a few counties over after setting the house on fire. Azrael would be none the wiser.
Tori’s place came into view a moment later, along with two patrol cars. Damien pulled into the drive and quickly got out.
A couple of uniformed officers rounded the side of the porch, carrying flashlights. One of them raised a brightly lit beam up to Damien’s face. “Stay where you are.”
Damien lifted an arm to shield his eyes. “What’s going on here?”
“We got a call about shots fired in this area. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Shots? Is Tori okay?” He took a step forward.
“Whoa, now. What are you holding there?”
“It’s just wine.” Damien held up the bottle for their inspection. “We have a date this evening. Is she all right?”
“She’s fine and she’s inside. We’re going to check the edge of the woods, and then we’ll be on our way. There’s no evidence of a gun fired close to the house.”
Damien watched them walk toward the tree line, sweeping the beam of their flashlights across the ground in front of them.
He jogged up the steps to the porch and knocked. “Tori? It’s me, Damien.”
The door opened a moment later to admit a disheveled-looking Victoria. Part of her hair had come loose from her ponytail, and her face appeared pale. He noticed red marks near her chin.
Tears gathered in her eyes. “Did you bring that wine?”
“I did. Are you okay?”
She backed up and held her arm out. “Please come in. I’ll grab us a couple of glasses.”
Damien closed the door before taking a seat on the couch and setting the wine on the coffee table. “I saw the police out front. Seems someone called in about gunshots in this area. What’s going on?”
She came back into the room, holding two long stemmed wineglasses and held them out to him. “Fill it up, please.”
He noticed her hand shook a little, but decided not to mention it.
“Come sit with me.” Plucking the glasses from her fingers, he slid over to make room for her.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he gently demanded, popping the cork and pouring them both a generous amount of red wine.
Tori declined to sit, pacing along the front of the coffee table instead. “It’s nothing, really.”
She accepted the drink he handed her and downed it without slowing. “Another, please.”
“Easy, gorgeous. I don’t want you to make yourself sick.”
“And I don’t need you telling me what to do. Can you just pour and save the questions for later?”
Damien could se
nse the pain radiating from her. She wore her feelings close to the surface, making them easy to read.
“As you wish.” He quickly refilled her glass before taking a sip of his own drink.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just need some time to calm down a bit. Then we’ll talk.”
“Very well. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. But I’m worried about the shots being fired. Do you know anything about that?”
She finished off the second glass of wine and held it out to him once more. “Again.”
Damien simply nodded and did as she asked. He decided small talk was in order; anything to take her mind off the dilemma she seemed to be in. “Your home is nice. Very cozy.”
She laughed, a nervous sound that lacked conviction. “You think so?”
He pretended to study the room. “Absolutely. It has a comfortable feel to it, and the furniture is actually something that I would have picked out. Well, all but that green lamp over there.”
Tori shifted her gaze to the lamp Damien referred to. “I hate that lamp with everything inside me.”
“Then why keep it?” He found himself asking before he could stop.
“As a reminder of who and what I truly am.”
The look in her eyes tore at his heart. So much grief resided there. And all of it, he knew to be caused by one man. Harvey Cohen. “Tell me who are you are, Victoria Blanchard.”
“Someone you shouldn’t be wasting your time on. I’ve seen and done things…” Her voice trailed off, and she took another hardy drink of wine.
Damien knew exactly what she meant, and he’d be damned if he would allow her to feel responsible for her stepfather’s heinous acts. “There is nothing you could tell me that would scare me off.” And he meant it. In the few days he had known her, she’d somehow managed to capture his heart. There was something about her that he found irresistible.
She continued to stare at that hideous green lamp. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Damien slowly stood and trailed across the room to the stereo that sat on a table next to the television. He switched it on and pressed the Seek button until he found a suitable station.
Consuming Damien (The Possessed Series Book 2) Page 7
