Fate Heals (Twist of Fate Book 2)

by Tina Saxon

  Fate Heals

  Copyright © 2017 by Tina Saxon

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN Digital: 978-0-9987762-2-4

  ISBN Print: 978-0-9987762-3-1

  Edited by: Max Dobson @ The Polished Pen

  Proofreading by: Elaine York @ Allusion Graphics

  Cover design by: Sarah Hansen @ Okay Creations

  Formatting by: Elaine York @ Allusion Graphics

  Prologue

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter seventeen

  Chapter eighteen

  Chapter nineteen

  Chapter twenty

  Chapter twenty-one

  Chapter twenty-two

  Chapter twenty-three

  Chapter twenty-four

  Chapter twenty-five

  Chapter twenty-six

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Chapter twenty-eight

  Chapter twenty-nine

  Chapter thirty

  Chapter thirty-one

  Chapter thirty-two

  Chapter thirty-three

  Chapter thirty-four

  Chapter thirty-five

  Chapter thirty-six

  Chapter thirty-seven

  Chapter thirty-eight

  Prologue preview book #3

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life. Fate had illuminated the dark path known as my life and gave me the answer to a question I now wish I never asked.

  My father, Travis, wanted me to visit him in jail. I never should have gone. I should have stayed as far away from Travis as humanly possible.

  I never planned on him telling me why Aiden’s parents were murdered or that the man I saw when I was ten, the man who killed my mother and then walked away smiling was Aiden’s father.

  I could feel the shards from my broken heart, tearing me apart inside. Aiden and I would never survive this. But there he was, waiting for me outside of the jail. He begged me not to let our fathers’ actions determine our future.

  Could our love survive the pain of our pasts? Could we build a solid foundation and bury the past so deep it doesn’t shake the ground we walk on?

  Yesterday, my thoughts were consumed with surviving through heartbreak.

  Today, I’m just trying to survive.

  I’ve danced with the devil.

  I’ve made him bleed.

  I’ve made him regret his sin—taking me.

  For about two seconds.

  “You will learn, mija, that you are not the boss here,” he says in a thick accent as he runs his hand down my face, almost affectionately. His touch makes my skin crawl. Bile threatens to rise as I jerk my face away.

  I spit on his face. “Go to hell,” I seethe.

  He tsks me. “You will soon learn that that is exactly where you are,” he roars as his hand strikes my face. I moan out in pain, spitting out blood. He split my lip. The metallic taste churns my stomach. “Your fight is impressive.”

  “They’re going to kill you when they find me,” I say between clenched teeth. He steps forward, and he fists my hair, yanking my head back to look up at him. I grunt as I can feel pieces of hair being ripped from my scalp.

  “When they finally find you, it’s not me who will be dead,” he whispers into my ear. I try and fight against his hold but it’s too tight. I can’t move my head.

  Shut up, Addison. I berate myself for instigating his anger. Today is day three of my hell, and by now I should have learned to just shut the fuck up. My arms and legs are chained to a wall, leaving me only enough room to go from the toilet to my single bed. I’m stripped naked. Which is my fault, I’m sure.

  When I awoke from my drug-induced kidnapping, I fought with everything I had. My body aches all over from fighting and being beaten. A bitter laugh escapes my dry, cracked, bleeding lips when I remember the look on his face when I kicked him in the head, taking him down. First it was surprise and then a flash of fear. My foot connected to his ribs, not once but twice. His groans fueled my adrenaline. His men had to rip me off of him. I focused on that look when they beat me repeatedly while he watched with glee. It was then I was stripped of my clothes. So, yes, it was probably my fault.

  I watch him open my prison door, and he looks back at me. “It’s those eyes, mija. Those eyes are your hell.” His wicked laugh echoes through the walls, sending burning rage throughout my body. I scream and fight against the shackles holding me in place. Pure hatred runs through my veins. My bruised wrists don’t even hurt. At least not yet. That time will come soon enough, but right now I’m a caged animal trying to fight my way out.

  I collapse into a ball on the filthy floor, willing myself to calm down. My chest hurts from my erratic breathing. I tap my head against the exposed cinder block wall.

  Calm down, Addison.

  I start counting back from a hundred. I figure ten isn’t going to give me enough time. Closing my eyes, I breathe in deep through my nose, blowing it out through my mouth. I always sucked at yoga, except at the end when we did breathing exercises to relax. I’d give anything to be lying on a mat on a wooden floor, focusing on just my breathing. But that doesn’t happen in Hell. In Hell, you only think about devils, saints, and angels. Why and how you got there. It’s hope. It’s torture. It’s my life.

  I think about Aiden. How he’s probably going out of his mind right now. I just need to hang on for a little longer. Someone will find me.

  Aiden will find me.

  When I’m not fighting or being knocked unconscious, I listen. I try to figure out who took me and why. The man, his name is Rico. He speaks about my eyes and calls me daughter, so I’m assuming I’m here because of Travis. But who knows about me? Who knows I’m his daughter?

  If it’s some sort of revenge on Travis … how long are they going to keep me here, keep me alive? Every time one of Rico’s men looks at me like I’m a fucking toy just for them, especially now that I’m naked, my heart stops beating.

  Their fingers have groped me. They’ve rubbed their hard cocks against me when they’ve held me down and beat me. But it hasn’t gone any farther. I’ll take broken bones over a broken spirit.

  I try to remember what happened when I was taken but it’s all a blur. The last thing I do remember is something was thrown over my head then I was shoved into the back of a van. Everything after that runs together. Screaming, gunshots, squealing tires. Not always in that order.

  Tears start running down my face, involuntarily. I don’t want to cry. It shows weakness. Each night, I hold back the waterworks until I can’t anymore. My body is tired of fighting; it’s telling me I need to emotionally recharge because tomorrow is a new day where my brain will tak
e over and I’ll end up with new bruises, new scars. I only hope that I’ll be found before those scars become irreversible.

  Beep … beep … beep.

  “Doc, is he going to wake up soon?”

  “Please tell me he’s going to wake up.”

  “Katie, he’s tough. He’ll wake up.”

  Voices fill my head. Where am I? Darkness surrounds me. I try to talk, but nothing comes out. Soft hands touch my arm.

  “Aiden, please wake up,” the quiet voice says. Katie?

  Why can’t I move?

  Beep … beep … beep.

  What is that fucking noise?

  “Everything looks great,” a male voice says. “He just went through a tough surgery. Give it some time.”

  Surgery? Why can’t I remember anything?

  “Have you guys got any leads?” That sounds like … Jaxon? Leads on what?

  Someone sighs. “They went underground with her. But we’ll find her,” Max says.

  Her? Who’s missing?

  Think, Aiden. Think.

  “I love you, Aiden.” I watch her walk away. A black van. Screams. Blackness.

  No, Addison!

  Beep … beep … beep … beep.

  I will my body to move. To do anything. I need to wake up. I need to tell them who has her. I know who has Addison. FUUUCKK!

  “Nurse, what’s happening?” Katie’s voice is rushed.

  “Not sure, but his blood pressure is spiking. We’re going to give him some pain meds.”

  My body feels heavy and my head feels light. Thoughts spin around in my head like a kaleidoscope. I’m falling back in slow motion. Sleep finds me at the bottom.

  “Aiden, can you hear me?”

  I feel like I’m walking through a tunnel and someone is at the end, calling out to me. The male voice echoes. Something pulls me to it.

  “Aiden, can you open your eyes?” There it is again.

  Trying to understand what he’s asking shouldn’t be this hard. I swallow. Holy fuck that hurt. My body tenses up.

  “Are you thirsty?” the voice asks. I nod my head. “I have a drink right here.”

  Something touches my lips. I slowly open my eyes, squinting as the bright light floods my vision. I see someone holding a drink in front of me and feel a straw touch my lips. I cautiously take a sip, afraid it’s going to feel like glass going down my throat. Out of fear, I blow out the breath I was holding, but it doesn’t feel as bad as I expected.

  I clear my throat as I look around the room. My sister, Katie, sits right next to my bed. The soft smile doesn’t match the tears running down her face.

  “Don’t cry,” I mumble. My voice is hoarse and it sounds like I swallowed a cup of broken glass. I clear my throat again.

  “Aiden,” the doctor says. I turn to look at him at my other side. “I suggest you don’t try to talk for a while. Your throat is going to be sore for a couple days.” He continues to ask me questions while he checks me over, wanting me to nod yes or no. I look down at the tube coming out of my chest and wince when I try to sit up.

  A nurse behind him comes around and pulls out a remote from the side of my bed. The bed starts to move to an upright position.

  “Why—” I stop talking because it hurts too much. I point to the tube.

  “Do you remember what happened?” the doctor asks.

  I pinch my eyes closed and nod my head. I was shot. The bastard who took Addison from me shot me.

  Addison.

  I croak as I try and sit up farther. I need to find Addison.

  A hand stops me, pushing me back against the bed. “Aiden, you need to sit back.” I look at the person who has a hand on each of my shoulders. I do a double take because the hands belong to a petite nurse. I shake my head. It must be the drugs making me weak because she’s practically holding me down.

  I exhale quickly, whipping my head toward Katie. “Get Damon. Now,” I grate out in a whisper.

  Katie stands up, watching me cautiously. “Aiden, I think you need to relax and focus on getting better. You’ve had a rough couple days,” she says softly, laying her hand on top of mine.

  I shake my head. “Now or I get up myself.” I try to swallow the pain.

  She twists her lips and rolls her eyes. “Such a brat. I’ll be right back.” I smirk as she walks out of the room. She’s never been able to win an argument; I’m not sure why she thinks she’ll start now.

  “So I’m assuming you remember getting shot?” the doctor questions. I look at the doctor and nod once. “While we were removing the bullet from your chest, your lung collapsed, which is the reason for the tube. Once we determine that your lung can stay inflated on its own, we’ll remove the tube. This can happen anywhere from a couple days to a week. We need you to focus on getting better.” He gives me a pointed look. I get it, doc. It’s really not beneath me to roll my eyes, but instead I nod. If this tool thinks I’m going to sit back while Addison is in danger, he’s an idiot. I’ll be a good patient for now so I can get out of this place.

  As if the doctor can read my mind he says, “Aiden, you’ll be here for at least one week, maybe two, depending on your recovery.”

  I fist my hands thinking what could happen to Addison in those two weeks if we don’t find her. The beeping coming from the machine that is attached to me starts to beep faster. The beeping reminds me of something, but I can’t pinpoint what. I shake the thought from my head. My focus right now is Addison.

  Only Addison.

  The doctor blows out an exasperated breath. “Don’t make this more difficult, Aiden. Try and calm down. We’ll get you out of here as fast as we can.” He writes on my medical record and hands it to the nurse before he turns to leave.

  “Alright, my pocket full of sunshine,” the nurse says, “how is the pain right now on a scale of one to ten?”

  I take in a deep breath and release it, self-evaluating my pain. It’s not bad enough for pain meds. I need to be fully awake when I talk to Damon, so I hold up three fingers. It’s probably more a seven, but hell, I don’t need her to know that. Her eyes squint as she twists her lips.

  “I don’t believe you,” she says, smirking as she adjusts a few things on the machine, “but when it gets to be too much, let me know. Tomorrow you’ll start respiratory therapy to get that lung stronger, so don’t use up all your energy this afternoon.” She finishes writing whatever she needs to and then walks out of my hospital room. Damon’s in the room before the door closes.

  He pulls a chair up to the bed. “I guess I should skip all the ‘I’m glad you’re okay’ and ‘you fucking scared us’ bullshit,” he says with an eyebrow raised. “I know you want to get right to business.”

  I nod and clear my throat. My fists are still clenched. “I know who took her,” I whisper. Whispering is a hell of a lot less painful than me trying to talk.

  Damon’s eyes go wide. “Thank God, because we’ve hit a dead end. Who?” His voice is rushed.

  I slowly blow out my cheeks. I need to decide real fast how much to disclose. Addison is in a lot of danger, but having it known that she is Travis’s daughter could be even more dangerous.

  “Get Max.” Damon angles his head. Max has been my best friend since elementary school. We joined the FBI together, but he didn’t care for rules, so he opened his own security company, Shaw Security. His team is filled with ex-military and ex-law enforcement. Maybe with Max we can keep it under wraps about Travis. Damon is still staring at me intently. “There is stuff about Addison that I need to keep a lid on right now.” I swallow to wet my throat before I continue. “We need Max and his team on this.”

  “You know as soon as the cops know you’re awake, they’ll be in here asking questions,” he says.

  “So fucking hurry up and get Max.”

  Not even five minutes later, Max and Damon stride into my room. Max smirks. “Good to see you alive, brother.”

  “Good to be alive,” I reply.

  “So, I hear you have some things to tell
us. You know I already have my guys on this,” he says. “We’ll find her.” It doesn’t surprise me to hear that Max is already involved. Max grabs a chair and straddles it, leaning forward against the back with his arms crossed. Damon sits in the chair next to my bed. Both guys stare at me, waiting.

  I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Here goes nothing.

  “Both of you know that Addison was at Travis’s house last summer.” They both nod in agreement. “What you don’t know is …” I pause and look around the room. I feel like I’m breaking some kind of trust between me and Addison, but I’m not sure how to save her without doing it.

  “Aiden, if you know something that can help us find Addison, you need to tell us,” Max says.

  I clench my jaw and growl. “You need to talk to Travis.” Both guys look at me with confusion.

  “Why?” Damon asks.

  I sigh. “Because Addison is his daughter.” Damon’s eyes widen as Max drops his head onto his arms. “The person who took Addison used to work for Travis. He tried to attack Addison while she was staying there. His name is Joe Lopez. Travis—”

  “Wait,” Damon says, interrupting me as he puts together who Joe is. “Please tell me this isn’t the same Joe Lopez who you built your whole case against Travis and the reason he’s sitting in jail right now.”

  I nod. “The same one. I don’t know what the hell happened, or whose body we found, but it wasn’t Joe.” My voice is still raspy, but talking is getting easier.

  “You know what this means, right?” Damon asks.

  Fuck yeah, I do. If we find Joe, Travis goes free. I built my entire case against Travis based on one thing: he had Joe killed. We found a body at the bottom of the Hudson River. The bodyguard who was instructed to kill Joe spilled his guts one drunken night. That was it. I took hold of that one mistake Travis made and built my case. Obviously he didn’t have him killed if he’s still alive, but I don’t have time to think about that right now.

  “So this guy has a huge score to settle, then. With Travis and Addison,” Max says as he stands up and starts to pace. I nod, fisting the white hospital sheet. “Give me all the info you can on this guy Joe. I’ll have Stone start digging.”