Saving marvel satans dev.., p.24
Saving Marvel (Satan's Devils MC Second Generation Book 4), page 24
Then… nothing, until I’d woken up here a few minutes ago. Restrained and alone.
Feeling woozy from whatever he’d injected into me, I try to clear my head. My first rational thought is Marvel. Is he okay? How hard did he hit him? A sob comes to my throat as I realise I could have left the man I so recently found, dying.
He’s got to be alright.
Anything else is unthinkable. I can’t have found him only to lose him.
He was just knocked out.
I’ve got to get myself out of this predicament. No one would know where to find me. If I let myself believe the worst has happened to Marvel, I’ll simply give up. I’ve got to focus on getting back to him.
But how the fuck do I do that?
Forcing thoughts of Marvel to the back of my mind, I make myself examine my surroundings. The room is bare, just this chair in the middle of it. Light comes in from a frosted window, showing me while I’ve been out of it, day has dawned.
I’d never slept naked beside my husband and am now thankful that old habits die hard. When Marvel had fallen asleep after our amazing lovemaking, I’d felt uncomfortable, so when visiting the bathroom, I had dressed myself in my normal sleep tank and shorts. While not attractive apparel for a woman in her sixth decade, at least it feels like I’ve some armour.
So how do I get free? I jiggle my wrists and ankles but after twisting my hands this way and that and contorting my fingers, I have to admit it’s not as easy as magicians and escape artists make it out to be. I’m securely restrained and there’s no way I’m going to get myself free.
Trapped, fear bubbles inside me. That threat was real. My heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of my chest.
I have to escape. Writhing, I try to make the chair topple. It rocks but doesn’t tip over. I’m trying to redouble my efforts when the door opens, and my kidnapper walks in.
He smirks and shakes his head at my feeble efforts, while I glare at the man who’s brought me here. He’s much younger than me, early thirties, perhaps. He’s tall, fairly lean, but his arms look muscled and strong. No wonder he so easily overpowered me. Then it registers that he’s no longer wearing his mask. I stop breathing for a moment, realising what it means that he’s letting me see his face.
My past, or rather Ralph’s, has caught up with me. Fuck you, Ralph. See where your actions have gotten me?
Haven’t I lost enough? My job, my home? My friends and family.
Slowly I’d been getting my life back together. I moved to a different city, where, until recently, no one had known me. I have a new job, and potentially a new man. I’ve too much to live for to die now.
I thought I sucked at sex, that Ralph’s inability to satisfy me, or me him, had been my fault. But Marvel had shown me how wrong I’d been. The ache I feel between my legs betrays just how thorough Marvel’s demonstration had been. As for the responses he’d gotten out of me, let’s just say, not being able to experience that again would be a damn shame.
I stare at my kidnapper. He stares at me. My mouth feels dry as I swallow rapidly. What do I do? Beg for my life, cry and throw myself on his mercy? I doubt he’s got any, or at least, none for me.
He wouldn’t even let me check if Marvel was alive.
I’ve got to survive so I can make sure for myself.
But the chances of that seem unlikely. I swallow again, blinking fast to keep tears from my eyes. The man standing stony faced in front of me had shown no sympathy for me when he’d taken me from my home. If his intention is to hurt me, my distress or pleas to be freed might just spur him on.
Briefly I close my eyes, picturing Marvel as he waited beside me during that bank robbery, remembering how his presence had kept me calm. If only he was beside me now, and not back in my house with a serious head injury.
I conjure his voice in my head. Take it easy, Virginia. Just breathe in and out. Keep calm. I take air into my lungs and release it.
“Hey. Stay with me.” Hands grasp my shoulders and give me a shake. My kidnapper’s action and sharp words have me snapping my eyes open again and looking straight toward him.
His eyes are clear and sharp. He doesn’t look like he’s under the influence of drugs or anything that would affect his behaviour. His hair is shorn short in a military-type cut. He’s dressed in combat pants with an olive-coloured t-shirt and a utility belt, on which hangs a knife and a gun in a holster.
Albeit he’s armed, he looks normal enough. Not the kind of person I’d go out of my way to avoid. If I was lost, he’d be someone I’d approach for directions.
It’s worth an appeal to any better nature he might have. As it hits me he’s technically probably young enough to be my son, I play on that aspect. “Would your mother approve of how you’ve kidnapped me and are keeping a defenceless woman captive?” I quirk an eyebrow, trying to give the impression of a stern parent.
My question takes him by surprise. He takes a moment to respond. His brows turn down in an expression of disgust. “She can’t approve or disapprove as she’s six feet under.”
Oh shit. That was the wrong thing to say. I realise she must have been one of Ralph’s victims. Inwardly grimacing, I tackle it head-on.
“I’m sorry for what my ex-husband did to her. But I swear to you on my own mother’s grave, I didn’t have anything to do with it, nor any knowledge of what he was doing.”
His eyes come to me sharply. After a second, he barks an incredulous laugh. “You think it was her? Fuck no, she died in another state.” His mouth twists as he mouths to himself thank God, and once again I feel nauseous at the amount of hurt Ralph had metered out on so many innocents.
It’s bad enough to lose someone, but then to have to think of how disrespectfully their body had been treated. Although the dead can feel nothing, those living don’t deserve to have more pain heaped upon them. But if he’s not personally affected by someone Ralph molested, is he one of the troublemakers Marvel warned me about? If he’s a vigilante, that could be worse. That better nature I tried to appeal to? He probably hasn’t got one.
I watch him carefully as he turns away. I watch as his hands fist at his sides and his body seems to vibrate with anger.
Supressing a whimper, I wonder what to do next. Appealing to him hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. Maybe I should rant at him instead?
Don’t enrage him, Virginia. Again, the voice in my head sounds suspiciously like Marvel.
I grasp onto that, feeling his comfort whether he’s physically here or not. As long as he’s still breathing, he’ll want me to come back to him. It’s up to me to do all I can to accomplish that.
Personalise yourself.
“You know I’m Virginia,” I tell him. “What’s your name?”
He spins around to face me. “Why do you want to know? It’s hardly likely we’re going to become friends.” His eyes narrow. “Or did your husband talk about his victims with you, give you their details? You think you’re going to know all about me if I tell you who I am?”
“My ex never said one word to me.” I draw a breath and try to remain calm. “If I’d had any inkling of what he’d been doing, I’d have left him long ago. And, I would have reported him. What he did was despicable and wrong.” So fucking wrong. I close my eyes as the painful thought goes through me.
He huffs as though he doesn’t believe me.
I register he thought Ralph might have spoken of him. That suggests he is family of one of Ralph’s victims himself. I adjust my approach accordingly.
“I’m not worth this.” Desperately I try to come up with something that might make him set me free. “Whatever you do to me won’t bring who you lost back or change what that bastard of my ex did. The police have the note you sent me. They’ll find you, arrest you. If you kill me, they’ll lock you up. Hurting me won’t solve anything. Is revenge really worth losing your liberty for?”
“I’ve already lost everything,” he says, his back turned toward me again. “I haven’t anything more to lose.”
Shit. How do you deal with someone for whom all hope has been lost? “I know how that feels,” I tell him, thinking fast. “It’s hard being out of control when everything’s taken from you.”
He suddenly swings back around. “And what was taken from you?” he snaps.
Probably not much in the scheme of things, but to me, everything that made my life worthwhile. “My job, my home, my marriage. Everything I thought I’d built up around me. My self-confidence. What my ex did made me doubt myself.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, I saw that. You were in bed with another man when I found you.”
Which is not fair. “For the first time since I found out about Ralph and divorced him,” I cry out, knowing one night with Marvel wasn’t enough.
I suppose I should count myself lucky I wasn’t going to die without having experienced what it felt like to be in the arms of a real man. I swallow a sob which reminds me I’m not ready to give in and fold. I must have a chance to get around this man holding me captive. I’ve just got to find the key to getting through to him.
He seems in no hurry to get on with whatever it is he plans to do. I’m still alive which I count as a bonus. If I’m any judge of character, I don’t think he’s got it in him to kill someone in cold blood. But I’ve been very wrong before. And I shouldn’t forget he beat Marvel over the head and left him for dead.
I force my voice to soften. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but I was in the dark as much as everyone else. If you wonder how someone can be married to such a monster and not have a clue what he was doing, then you can’t ask that question more than I ask it of myself. If by taking me you think you’ll hurt Ralph, you won’t, I can assure you. Whatever you do to me, whatever pictures you send, Ralph obviously didn’t give a damn about me.”
His brow furrows. “What makes you say that?”
“He wasn’t faithful, was he?” I shrug. “Truth is, we should have parted years ago, but habit kept me with him. And he probably only stayed with me as being married gave him an air of respectability. He used me.”
Now he faces me again and stares at me for a long moment. “Name’s Jaxon,” he informs brusquely.
Pressing my lips together, I wonder if I’ve done enough. “Please, Jaxon, let me go. I’ll say nothing about you, I promise. I just want to move on and try to find some way to live with what my ex-husband did.”
“Move on?” He shakes his head. “Move fuckin’ on? If only it was that easy.”
His mom died but Ralph didn’t molest her. But there’s someone, I know there is.
“Who was it, Jaxon?” His eyebrow rises. “Help me understand why you’re doing this. What did Ralph do to you?”
His hands clench again, that vibration I noticed before returns. He comes over to me, then abruptly goes to the opposite wall and smashes his fist through it. Overwhelmed by mental pain, he doesn’t even shake out his hand, though even from here I can see it bleeding.
“My mom died as a result of a drunk driver.” I jump slightly as he starts to speak. His words continue in a monotone. “She didn’t live long enough to see me married and my beautiful child born. She’d have been a wonderful grandmother, but it wasn’t to be.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him quietly, knowing words are inadequate.
He sinks down on his haunches, placing his hands together and resting his chin. He speaks again but his eyes are glazed as though he’s not really speaking to me.
“I was a SEAL. I married when I was home on leave, then was sent back out on another tour. Stella, well, she took fine to being a serviceman’s wife, and never complained. We had our daughter. Perhaps in time, we’d have had more.” He brushes his hands through his hair. “Maybe if I’d been around, I’d have noticed sooner, but…” He shrugs. “Too busy with a kid, she didn’t find the lump until it was far too late. By the time they diagnosed cancer, it had spread. I had a four-year-old child who’d lost her mother.”
What can I say but to apologise again? It sounds so feeble, I keep the words to myself. But he doesn’t seem to notice, as he resumes his story. “I’d already re-enlisted, so hadn’t much choice. I went back overseas. While I was gone, Bree, my daughter, well, she went to Stella’s sister, her aunt. She had a couple of kids and swore one more wouldn’t make much difference.”
So far, he’s lost his wife and his mom, and I sense there’s more to come. My arms ache from being tied behind me. My legs are restless and stiff, and my bladder is so full it’s screaming at me. But I’m full of sympathy for this broken man crouched on the floor, my physical discomfort nothing compared to his mental distress.
He sounds choked when he continues. “A couple of years passed. Things seemed to be going okay. I missed the hell out of Bree, and she apparently missed me.” He breaks off and wipes a tear from his eye. “I was in the sandpit when she was diagnosed with leukaemia.”
“Oh no.” The words burst out of me.
“I came home, got an early discharge on compassionate grounds. Dedicated my life to finding her the best treatment. But she had an aggressive type, and nothing we could do could help. She was so fuckin’ cheerful, even though she understood what was happening. She hated that she was going to be leaving me, but strangely positive for herself. She believed, you see, that she was going to meet back up with her mother.” A sob comes from his throat. “She was the one comforting me. Nine fuckin’ years old, and I watched her go from being a happy healthy girl to a living corpse. I was there, holding her hand, when the light finally faded.”
“Jaxon…” This man has lived through so much pain. It’s not surprising if it’s made him mentally unstable.
He gets to his feet. His whole body shudders. “She went to your husband’s funeral home.”
Bile rises inside me.
“My sweet little girl who never got to have a boyfriend, never grew to feel the loving touch of a man, had her innocence stripped away. In death she was molested.” His eyes look in my direction, but I know he’s not really seeing me. He’s living in his world of pain. “I couldn’t protect her when she was alive, nor even in death. When they told me… Jesus!” He shouts the name on an agonised cry, then sinks to his knees. Tears fall and he doesn’t even bother to wipe them away.
I hated Ralph when I’d found out what he’d done. If he was here in front of me now, I think I’d kill him myself. It’s not the first time one of his victim’s families has confronted me, but this is the worst story I’ve heard. Jaxon’s made me part of his grief, and I’m feeling it the same as him.
I feel sickened. My stomach churns, and I have no words to use. How do you comfort a man who’s lost everything that he loved? If I believed it would make him feel any better, then I almost feel he should do what he wants with me.
But I know it won’t help. There’s something about him that screams instead, he’d be filled with remorse.
He stands like the broken man that he is. Face turned down, hands forming fists. Then his head rolls back, and his mouth opens as though in a silent scream. Suddenly his posture changes and he’s in front of me.
“Why the fuck did you start talking to me?” he roars. “I thought I could do what I’d agreed. Thought it would be easy. Thought you were as much a monster as him.” He clasps his hands to the sides of his head as though it’s paining him.
I’ve got to be careful. Somehow, I’ve gained an advantage, and I’ve got to keep it that way. Quickly I filter through what I can say that would further make him see me as a victim, and not the object of his ire. To make him understand whatever he does to me couldn’t make him feel better in any way and couldn’t take any of his pain away from him.
But before I can speak, a phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket.
“Yeah. I got her… No.” His eyes flick to me. “I can’t go through with it, man… I know that’s what we agreed…”
He turns away from me and smashes his uninjured hand against the wall. I hear a tinny voice speaking fast but can’t make out the words. Instead, I have to be satisfied with the expressions crossing Jaxon’s face.
“I know, but I can’t… It won’t do any good…. She’s not….” His voice breaks off. His eyes widen, and the blood visibly drains from his face. “You what? I killed him? I only gave him a tap to knock him out. You sure he’s dead?”
I gasp. He can only be talking about Marvel. No, a cry comes from me. Marvel can’t be gone. What’s the point of fighting for my life if Marvel’s not there to share it with me? How can fate be so cruel as to put a man like Marvel in my path then snatch him away from me? The deep sense of loss that sweeps through me takes me by surprise, disproportionate with the few days I’ve known him. Time doesn’t matter. Marvel has become important to me.
“No. This has gone too far.” Jaxon is speaking again. “She’s a decent woman. I believe she had nothing to do with what Roberts has done. We got it wrong… I can’t do it,” he cries out. “No, I’ve not been brainwashed… I’m no fuckin’ coward, but I can’t… What do you mean, you’ll do it yourself? You’re coming here? Look I… The cops? They’ll be looking for me?”
His bloodied hand rubs hair back from his face, leaving a trail of red on his skin.
“Sure. I’ll get out. Disappear.” He nods as though listening avidly. “You want me to leave her here? You’ll take care of her instead of me?”
His eyes find mine. They look cold. Any lingering hope for compassion dies when I see his expression. Letting out a shuddering breath, I realise what will be, will be. And, at least, if I’m dead, I won’t have to suffer through the pain of losing the man I realise I was starting to love. What a stupid time for me to admit how important Marvel had become to me.
It’s too late.
“Yeah. Sure.” He sounds defeated. “No, I can’t fail my daughter again. You were right to remind me.”
Ending the call, he taps his phone against his palm, all the while staring at me. The tears that I couldn’t previously let fall now stream from my eyes. I kept myself strong when I thought I’d something to live for, but there’s no point now Marvel’s gone. Another crime to be laid at Ralph’s door. How could I live with that guilt? If Marvel hadn’t been there for me, he wouldn’t have been hurt.
