Master of Mine: Masters of Haven Book One

by Dark, Raven

  “Nick…” Gwen reached over, about to move him, but stopped. He’d said something once about not moving an accident victim.

  A loud shouting from the floor made her look down. Her phone stared up at her and Archer’s voice blared out of it.

  “Gwen! Gwen are you there? Answer me, Gwen are you all right?”

  She snatched up the phone. For some reason her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “A…Archer. I’m here. There’s… there’s been an accident…”

  Glass shattered beside her, making Gwen cry out. The door opened, and before she could react, someone was pulling her from the seat.

  Everything in her went on high alert, all of her training slammed into gear. Gwen thrashed, yelled as loud as she could, making all the noise she could manage.

  “Archer! Help!” She tried to reach, to claw at her attacker. “Let go of me! Archer, help me!” She kicked at the back seat, at the door. twisted and bucked, anything to get loose. But whoever had her easily dragged her from the car.

  Then his hands yanked her to her feet and spun her around.

  She stared up into a face covered with a cloth mask. “What the…”

  “I couldn’t let him take you away, my angel.”

  Horror gripped her. “Frank…?”

  Before she could finish, Frank’s arm slammed across her face. Pain blazed through her head and the world went black.

  36

  Connections

  “Gwen! Gwen, are you all right?” Archer gripped the phone at his ear. Gwen’s voice crackled, the shit microphone on her phone making her screams nearly unintelligible.

  Except one part.

  “Archer! Help me!” A loud thumping followed, like she was kicking something.

  Horror raced through him, adrenaline buzzing in his blood. He’s got her. “Gwen! Where are you? Gwen!”

  Curses and more screams. A violent thump, slapping, then a clatter. Then…

  Silence.

  “Hello?” he shouted into the phone, but he knew there was no use. The line was dead. “Fuck.”

  He called Quinn and quickly told him what had happened.

  “Shit. Do you know where she was headed when you spoke last?”

  “I don’t know. She was with Nick and Tony. I think. I… The hospital. They were headed for Haven Gen. Quinn, I heard him take her, man. She was so scared…”

  “All right, Archer, I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything until I get there. Understand?”

  “If he hurts her, Quinn…” He swallowed. “We have to find her.”

  “Just stay right there. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t move.”

  He nearly ripped his jacket yanking it on. Everything in him screamed to leap into his car and turn Haven upside down looking for her.

  No. He couldn’t do that. Quinn was right. His best chance of finding her alive was with Quinn’s help.

  Alive. Christ. Chest tight, he leaned on the doorframe of the dojo, hands shaking as he bowed his head and let out a long, shaky breath.

  I can’t lose her. Fuck, Quinn, hurry.

  Pain. Consciousness slowly swam in, and Gwen blinked open her eyes with a groan. Her head hammered, white lights of agony slicing across her vision every time she moved. Actual light glared from a small bulb hanging from a wooden ceiling. Dim, yet somehow still too bright. Every part of her ached.

  Something cold lay across her back, like stone. Slowly, she tried to move her arms, but something held them above her head, and chains clanked. She jerked, looking up at her wrists.

  “What…” Polished metal manacles glinted around each wrist. A thick chain ran from each one, along the wall to a rafter in the ceiling. Her heart thudded in the back of her throat.

  She looked down. Another set of cuffs held her feet apart, the chains loose enough to allow her to spread her legs. Someone had taken her shoes and socks off. Cold cement bit into her bare feet.

  Someone.

  Slowly, the memory of what had happened before she blacked out washed over her. The accident. Nick, bleeding, passed out in the front seat, head against the passenger’s side window. Tony, slumped over the steering wheel, too still. Someone dragging her from a car.

  I couldn’t let him take you away, Angel.

  The voice reverberated in her head and her blood turned to ice. Frank. Frank did this.

  The notion was baffling to her. At that ball, he’d seemed so awkward, so harmless. Almost charming, with his neatly cropped blond hair, his ultra clean look. Even when things got weird at her brother’s test, off-putting and invasive as he’d been, she hadn’t thought he’d do…this.

  Gwen glanced around. A rickety flight of stairs wound up into the shadows at the far end of what was obviously a cellar. A long work bench stretched across half the room, tools immaculately stacked and mounted on walls. Every inch of the place was frighteningly neat, even the small bed that sat in one darkened corner.

  A bed. She swallowed. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d try to make use of it. Her stomach roiled.

  Voices sounded from above. Gwen looked up. Footsteps shuffled across the floor. The voices were too muffled to make out what was said, but one sounded like a woman, the other a man.

  Ice poured into her veins. The man’s voice sounded like Frank’s. Who was the woman? An accomplice? Another victim? She shivered.

  Shit. If I scream, what will he do to her?

  She looked down at herself. At least he’d left her damn clothes on. But why had he removed her shoes? She tugged on the chains at her wrists. They didn’t give more than a few inches each. The ankle chains were no better.

  “Damn. Think, Gwen, think. Use what’s around you.”

  Forcing her heart to slow down, she looked at the walls. Dozens of tools gleamed on every wall, hammers, nail guns, screw drivers, any of which she could use to do damage. She only had to wait at the door with a hammer. The moment he opened the door, she’d bash his skull in. If she could get herself free.

  Again, she jangled the chains. No dice. She’d have to wait until he came down. Her stomach clenched.

  Muffled voices drifted from above again. Then footsteps. The man… Frank?...spoke, then the door opened, closed, and a moment later a car started. Had he left?

  The engine revved for an instant, tires crunched, then the engine faded to nothing.

  Silence. Seconds passed. Gwen stared at the ceiling, heart battering her ribs.

  At the top of the stairs, a door opened, then closed. Someone clattered down the stairs. Gwen half expected it to be someone else, as if her mind refused to accept the ridiculous notion that the same man she’d seen at the ball could do this.

  But it wasn’t someone else.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Frank smiled at her like she’d waited for him after a date.

  “There. Now that she’s gone, you have all my attention, Angel.” He walked around the work bench and picked up a drill that lay there, then sat on the edge of the table in front of her.

  Gwen swallowed, staring at the drill. She didn’t want to know what he might use it for.

  After looking at the drill a moment, like he wasn’t sure why he was holding it, his gaze lifted to her. The playful smile that turned his mouth up made her blood turn to ice. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

  Archer’s thoughts raced as Quinn’s SUV tore up the roads at a breakneck speed. The city had always seemed so small to him, with its quaint streets and vintage shops, old houses. Now, knowing Gwen could be anywhere, that her kidnapper could be anyone, Haven stretched on forever, as big as New York.

  As soon as Quinn had arrived, Archer hopped in and they’d headed toward Tony’s car’s coordinates, following the usual route Nick used when driving Gwen from the club to the hospital. It was only a ten minute drive, but this time, it felt like hours.

  Quinn’s car took a sharp turn, then skidded to a stop. Archer cursed.

  Fifty feet from Quinn’s front fender, surrounded by police cars, Tony’s
grey car had been pushed onto the shoulder, the driver’s side crushed in. The passenger’s side doors were both open. Blood smattered the front passenger’s side window.

  In an instant, he’d jumped out of his vehicle and followed Quinn to the wreck. He looked in, throat going dry. He heard Quinn introduce himself to the officer who tried to stop them and start asking questions. Blood pounded in Archer’s ears so he could barely hear. Crimson pooled around the steering wheel and windshield. “Shit, Nick…Tony…”

  Thoughts tumbling over one another, Archer looked around. There was no sign of Gwen, but her phone lay smashed on the pavement by the door. He swallowed. Where has he taken her?

  Quinn returned, his usually stoic face pale as he put his phone in his pocket. Archer looked at him, hoping.

  “Doctor Kincaid’s alive, barely. He’s in an ambulance on his way to the hospital.”

  “Oh, thank god.”

  “Tony didn’t make it.” Quinn’s voice sounded quiet and toneless.

  “Jesus Christ.” Archer raked his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Quinn.

  Quinn glanced at the officers and frowned. “I called in the kidnapping. Told them I’m handling this.”

  Archer was sure he saw contempt for the officers flash in Quinn’s eyes. He nodded and took out his own phone. “Good. I’d better call Ace.” Oh, shit, Ace.

  If Gwen had thought Frank would release her anytime soon, she couldn’t have been more wrong. An hour since he’d come down the stairs, and not only had he given no sign of what he wanted from her, he hadn’t made any effort to set her free.

  Some instinct told her to get him talking, to keep him calm. It unsettled her how easy that was. He talked with her, telling her about his life as if he’d brought her down here on some bizarre date. Somehow, she’d expected him to be more unhinged, raving at her for the wrong questions, flying into a rage. Instead, he talked about his family, his job, his love of old movies and woodwork. Sometimes, he seemed almost childlike.

  Except, he avoided any subject of what the wanted from her, or why he’d chained her to the wall in his house.

  “My sister says I spend too much time alone.” He shrugged, setting the drill down on the table. “Well, she can’t say that now, can she?” His eyes twinkled. “She’ll be overjoyed when she sees you.”

  Gwen licked her lips. “Can I meet her?” She tried to make the question sound casual. Not like she was hoping he’d take the chains off and bring her upstairs. Upstairs, where she could run for the door.

  “Nice try.” Frank shook his head, like she’d guessed wrong on a test. “Can’t do that just yet. You can’t meet Lila like that. Have to clean you up, first. Make you look right.”

  Something about the way he said that set off an alarm in her head. Her skin crawled at the thought of what he might view as ‘right’.

  “I don’t need cleaning up, Frank. When will she be back? Let me meet her.”

  His face twisted for a second, like he was in pain. He rubbed his temples. When his eyes met hers again, the look in them chilled her. “Yes you do. You’re dirty, Gwen.”

  The letter he’d written careened back on her. I will purify what is mine. Jesus.

  Frank crossed the room to her. He lifted one hand slowly to her face, fingers brushing her hair back from her cheek. Gwen jerked away, and he ran his sweaty palm over the side of her face.

  “All those things he did to you.” His sour breath assaulted her nostrils. “I can undo it, but you have to want me to.”

  “Let me go.”

  He pushed the other side of her hair back. “Not yet. Not until you say you want to be the way you were before. Before him.”

  She glared at him, yanking on the chains. “This is crazy. Don’t you get it? Archer isn’t forcing me to be with him. He’s not some twisted jerk who gets off on abusing me.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” He jerked her face around until she met his gaze. “I saw him that night at his apartment. He raped you. And you let him. He’s sick, and you let him touch what’s supposed to be mine.”

  A bolt of anger scalded her before she could contain it. “Archer isn’t sick. You are.”

  One of his hands grabbed her chin and forced it up. For a moment she thought he was going to slap her, but instead, his grip loosened. “Don’t say that. Good girls don’t say things like that. Why can’t you just behave?”

  Gwen closed her eyes. How could a guy make the word behave sound so frightening? She hated the idea of catering to whatever sick things he wanted from her, but it was the only way she was getting out of here. She’d have to cooperate until she had the advantage.

  “Ok. All right, Frank, I’ll…” She swallowed bile. “I’ll behave. What do you want me to do?”

  He released her and stepped back. Opened his mouth as if to say something before his face twisted again. He massaged his forehead. “Blast, these headaches.” He rubbed his temples. “See what you’ve done now? You’ve made this so much harder on yourself.”

  He dug into his pockets of his beige corduroys, pulling out a small bottle of clear liquid. He opened it and dabbed whatever it was on his temples, massaging it in.

  The potent smell of lavender filled the room, sharp and cloying. Gwen stared. That’s what I kept smelling from him! Except there was something else mixed in.

  Think, Gwen, damn it. Get him to let you out of these chains. The overpowering scent of the lavender made it hard to think. How did he stand it? She bought herself time.

  “Frank.”

  He looked at her.

  “You mentioned your sister. Lila, is it?”

  He nodded, leaning on the work table.

  “Is this her house then?” If she couldn’t escape yet, she’d get as much information on where she was as possible.

  “No, it’s mine. She lives with me.”

  “But why do you live in the basement?” She nodded to the bed.

  He glanced at the bed, then at her. His face and ears flushed. “That bed isn’t mine. It’s…” The blush would have looked endearing if she hadn’t been chained to his wall.

  Fingers of alarm skittered down her spine. “It’s what?”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s supposed to be for you.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged with a thin laugh. “Well… I wouldn’t expect you to sleep with me before we’re married.”

  The words hit her like a punch to the chest. He was a whole other level of crazy. It took everything in her to keep her face neutral.

  “No, of course not. That’s very… romantic of you.”

  “You think so?” He smiled that same smile she’d seen when he’d first come down the stairs. Warm, welcoming. Then he looked up toward the ceiling. “Well. My sister’ll be back in a while. We’d better get to work on you then.” He crossed the room, pulling a small set of keys out of his pocket.

  Hope sprang up in her and Gwen had to force herself to remain still, to act casual. Keep her fists from clenching. Frank unlocked the manacles on her hands first, and lowered her arms slowly. A groan escaped her as her joints flared with pain. How long had she been like that before he came down?

  The urge to shove him away and run reared up, but she forced herself not to react. Her feet were still chained.

  “I’m sorry.” He took her hands, massaging the red marks where the metal bit into them. A chiding look hardened his face. “I didn’t want to cause you pain, but I knew you wouldn’t behave if I let you move around here on your own.” Sweat made his palms feel clammy, and she resisted the urge to pull away.

  “I understand.”

  He bent and she held her breath, waiting for him to unchain her feet. Preparing to run.

  One of his hands ran over her foot, cupping her ankle. Tracing the curve of her instep. “Such nice feet.” He grinned up at her, showing sallow, yellowed teeth. She almost kicked at him, but made herself wait.

  “Is that why you removed my shoes?” She gave him what she hoped was a sweet smile. “Yo
u like feet?”

  “No.” An odd sparkle danced in his eyes, as if she’d said something naughty. Then the light went cold. “I’m not that kind of guy, Gwen. Not into the funny stuff. I can’t have you running off on me, now can I?”

  Funny stuff. He means BDSM. And she knew she didn’t imagine the note of disapproval in his tone for her kink.

  At last. He unlocked her feet, tossing the manacles aside. “There.” He ran his hands around her ankles, massaging. She cringed at the clamminess of his palms. One of his hands slipped under her pant leg, pushing it slowly up. His fingers snaked up her leg, and his breathing hitched. She shivered.

  Frank bent his head over her feet, apparently oblivious to her disgust. Gwen snatched a breath. Then she threw her knee up, hard into his face.

  He toppled backwards, clutching his nose. Blood sprayed from between his fingers, muffled his shout of pain. Heart in her throat, Gwen leaped over him and raced for the stairs.

  If I can get up the stairs… She raced up the steps, not caring that she was barefoot. Her foot slipped on one of the bottom steps and she tripped.

  “No, no, no.” She heard scrambling behind her and then Frank’s clammy hand snaked around her ankle. “Ahahah, come here.” He yanked her down the stairs and her head slammed into one of them on the way down.

  “Let go of me.” Gwen turned, trying to kick his face. He managed to weave to the side and her heal glanced off his cheek.

  “All right. Let’s gentle you down some.” He got to his feet and seized her ankle, dragging her across the floor. Gwen thrashed and twisted. “You’ll learn to be a good girl, Gwen. No one’s ever going to defile you again.”

  She expected him to chain her to the wall again. But instead, he dragged her across the thin carpeted area to the bed.

  “You son of a bitch, let go!”

  He hoisted her to her feet and tossed her onto the mattress. It struck her he looked almost skinny when she’d watched him moved about the room, yet he lifted her like a sack of grain. She tried to break away, but he straddled her.