Perfect End: A Dark Romance Thriller (Beautiful Ashes Book 2) Read online

  Perfect End

  Beautiful Ashes Book Two

  Dori Lavelle

  Copyright © 2019 by Dori Lavelle

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  For my dear friend, Elena. You inspired this story.

  Contents

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  18. Chapter 18

  19. Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Also by Dori Lavelle

  Chapter 1

  BREE

  As I gaze into my husband’s eyes, all the pieces that had been missing inside my mind slide back into place.

  The sound of screeching tires and crunching metal burst to life inside my head as memories of the accident come back to haunt me. The smell of my fear.

  I also remember clearly all the events that led to the accident. I remember us… how we used to be. I remember the good times, but they’re overshadowed by the bad.

  He thought I wouldn’t remember. He thought he could brainwash me into believing I’m someone I’m not. He was wrong.

  But what now? How can I get away from him? How do I find my way out of the maze that has swallowed me whole? How do I find my way back?

  My body is pain-ridden and weak. I don’t even know where the hell I am.

  The strength to scream for help has long deserted me. My throat feels raw and my lungs feel like they have been emptied of oxygen. In the small bathroom, I feel like a caged animal.

  The man standing in front of me is not the man I married, but a monster.

  “Why? Why are you doing this?” My bottom lip trembles with the words and my mouth is so dry that I can’t swallow.

  “Because you belong to me.” As his gray-green gaze arrests mine, a cold worm of fear crawls down my spine. The fear builds up inside my heart, the place that used to love him, and spreads through my entire body. It’s hard to imagine that not too long ago, I thought his eyes were loving and brown, not cold and evil.

  I wish he didn’t see my weakness, but the evil smirk on his face tells me he can see right through me. Like me, he probably also smells the sweat that’s pooling into my armpits.

  He has me exactly where he wants me, in the palm of his hand. He prefers me to be weak and broken. Does it make him feel stronger?

  It terrifies me that I don’t know anyone in this town. Hunter went to great lengths to isolate me, to pluck me from the world I knew and drop me into unfamiliar surroundings.

  But I can’t let him win. He cannot keep me in his life by force. He has no right.

  “It’s over, Hunter.” To feign confidence, I push my shoulders so far back that I feel a crack between my shoulder blades.

  “Dave,” he barks, his face tight with anger. “That’s what you’ll call me from now on. Do I make myself clear, Amanda?”

  A bubble of laughter pushes its way up my throat and bursts from my lips without warning. “What kind of stupid game do you think you’re playing? You can’t keep me here.” My voice is firm, my hands clenched tight at my sides.

  He shakes his head as a dark cloud settles on his features. “Amanda,” he says, his voice husky with danger. “There’s nowhere for you to go. You’re my wife. You belong with me. I’m sure you know by now what happens when you turn your back on our marriage.”

  “Nothing has changed. I still want to get as far away from you and this marriage as possible.” Fear forces my shoulders to fold forward, but I push them back and tilt up my chin. “Before you kidnapped me, I was in the process of filing for divorce. I wanted out then, and I want out now.”

  “Divorce?” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s not going to happen. I brought you here so we can start over. It’s time for you to leave the past behind.”

  “Yes, you’re right. You are my past, and I want to leave you behind. I need you out of my life.” I stop to catch my breath, my hand clutching my chest. “This is kidnapping…a crime. You won’t get away with it. People...someone will be looking for me.”

  He leans against the doorframe and a small smile curves his lips. “Are you sure about that?”

  I swallow hard and say nothing as sheer, black fright closes my throat. It suddenly hits me that bringing me here wasn’t a last-minute thing. He must have planned it, maybe even for months. If he had enough time to plan, he also had enough time to figure out ways to cover his tracks. He wouldn’t look so sure if he didn’t.

  What did he tell everyone so they won’t feel the need to look for me?

  I push my back against the tiled wall, wishing I could break through it and run for my life.

  His jaw is tight as he pushes away from the doorframe and takes a step toward me.

  Even though my head is throbbing with pain and my body is shaking, I force myself to gather up every ounce of energy I have left in me. I have to protect myself from Hunter. Being alone with him inside a room is dangerous. I need to find a way to get outside the house so I can call for help. Someone will help me. They will call the cops.

  Hunter belongs behind bars. As soon as I’m free of him, I’ll divorce him and make him pay for what he did to me.

  He takes another step toward me. Without thinking, I grab a metal, free-standing, toilet paper holder and swing it in his direction. He ducks before it connects with his head. When he straightens up again, fury is blazing in his eyes.

  I’m not done with him yet. My weapon almost flies from my weak grasp as I swing it again. This time, it hits him across the right shoulder and he stumbles to the side.

  “Fuck,” he roars, grabbing his shoulder.

  After one more try, I almost knock him over, but not completely. He’s still standing. I need to knock him down to give myself enough time to run before he catches up with me.

  My next attack doesn’t happen because he lunges for me, slamming me hard against the wall. A jagged scream rips out of me when the back of my already battered head connects with the tiles and pain tears through my skull. My body goes weak and I slide to the floor next to the toilet paper holder.

  Hunter comes to stand over me, glaring at me for a few seconds before he drops to his knees. He cups my face with both hands. I try to struggle free, but he has me firmly in his grip.

  His sweaty forehead touches mine, then he presses his salty lips to mine. I whimper and continue to struggle, but I’m no match for him, not when I’m in so much pain. He holds me in place as his tongue explores my mouth. He releases groans of pleasure, which mingle with my suffocated cries for him to stop.

  Finally, he pulls away and gazes into my eyes. The anger is gone, replaced with what someone else might call love, but I know better.

  “I love you, Amanda, but if you try to fight me again, I’ll have no choice but to kill you.”

  As his words sink in, the doorbell rings. I part my lips to let out another scream. I want the person at the door to hear m
y cry for help. Hunter stops me by pressing a hand to my mouth to shut me up. At the same time, he manages to shove his free hand into his pocket and pulls out a syringe filled with a milky liquid.

  Before I can make another sound, he plunges the needle into my arm. Seconds later, my eyes grow heavy.

  Chapter 2

  HUNTER

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Who the hell dares to show up at my house? Coming to a small town was meant to give me and my wife the privacy to start our brand-new lives.

  As the damn bell continues to ring, I slide my hands under Amanda and lift her. In a limp state, she feels like a rag doll in my arms, weak and at my mercy, just the way I like it. But I can’t enjoy the moment because some fucker thinks it’s okay to show up uninvited at someone else’s place.

  My mind is working on overdrive as I take my wife to our bedroom and lower her onto the bed, covering her up. The bell rings one more time. I curse under my breath.

  For a second I consider ignoring it, pretending we’re not home, but the person refuses to quit, ringing the damn thing as if it’s some toy.

  My temples are throbbing with rage as I storm out of the room and run down the stairs. If it’s that bitch, Donna, I don’t know if I’d be able to help myself. Maybe I need to scare her off once and for all so she stays away from my damn business. Just because the cottage belongs to her and her ancient husband, it doesn’t give her the right to show up whenever she sees fit.

  I make a stop in the living room and peer out the window. The moment I notice the cop car parked on the curb, I let the curtain fall.

  Damn. Someone must have heard Amanda screaming earlier and called the cops.

  Curling and uncurling my hands, I pace the living room, waiting for the cop to give up and fuck off. No chance. The bell continues to ring.

  I catch my reflection in the mirror above the dead fireplace. My face is red with rage.

  “Calm the fuck down, Dave,” I whisper to my image. I can’t mess up this life before it has begun.

  That name still sounds foreign to my mind, but I’ll get used to it. It will take a month at the most. It’s not the first time I’ve assumed a new identity.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and pull in a breath. The whole damn place smells of potpourri.

  I move back to the window. When I look out again, my eyes meet those of the cop, who’s staring at me from the other side. We both jump back in surprise.

  He pulls himself together and gestures with his fingers for me to open the door.

  I give him a curt nod, but what I feel like doing is breaking his fucking skull. Cops are full of shit.

  But I can’t do that. My name is Dave Brooks now, a gentle and loving husband who came to town to care for his sick wife in a peaceful place.

  That’s what I have to sell to the cop. I take a moment more to pull myself together, then I go to the front door and yank it open with a smile.

  “Good morning, officer. How may I help you?”

  He’s a middle-aged man with a bald patch covered by wisps of blond hair and a goatee.

  “Good morning. I’m Officer Slovak. I was called here by a neighbor who reported hearing screaming from this cottage. Is everything all right in there?” He attempts to peer past my shoulder into the house, but I stand tall to block his view. It’s not hard since I’m at least a head taller than him.

  “Yeah,” I say, shaking my head sadly. “My wife… She’s having one of her episodes?” I make sure to hold his gaze. Eye contact is important when you’re trying to feed someone some bullshit lies. “She suffers from a mental illness and sometimes, well, she screams, especially when she has to take her meds.”

  He doesn’t say anything, searching my eyes as if he doesn’t believe me.

  He finally clears his throat. “I apologize for the disturbance, but would you mind if I come inside for a second?”

  “Sure. Come on inside.” The fucker doesn’t believe me, but instead of telling him to fuck off, it might be best to get him on my side. I open the door wider and allow him to walk in.

  “You just moved in, am I right?” he asks.

  “Yes. My wife has gone through so much… her illness and losing a baby.” I pause for effect. “I was told Misty Cove is a nice place to find peace.” I offer him my hand. “I’m Dave Brooks by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brooks.” The officer pumps my hand. “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. I hope Misty Cove will give you what you’re looking for.”

  “Can I get you a drink?” I ask, hoping he would say no.

  “No, I’m good.” He glances around him. “Where’s your wife now?”

  Once again, I put on the distraught husband mask. “She’s upstairs sleeping. She’s always drained after an episode.” A sudden idea flickers in my mind. “Would you like to see her?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t want to disturb her rest.”

  “No, it’s really fine. You came here to do your job. I want you to walk out knowing that she’s fine, so you can assure the neighbors that there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Please, follow me, officer.”

  Chapter 3

  BREE

  I hear sounds of male voices. One of those voices belongs to Hunter. I shrivel up inside.

  How did it happen? How did I go from being a strong and confident woman to a weak one? How did I go from loving my husband to being terrified by the mere sound of his voice?

  What kind of cruel game is fate playing with me?

  I’m lying on a soft surface, a bed perhaps, and I’m covered with a sheet that reaches up to my chin. My body feels warm, but my feet are cold.

  I force my eyes open, but I can’t move a muscle. My mind forces my body to try, but it won’t obey. It feels as though I’m chained to the bed. Whatever drug Hunter injected into my system is strong enough to trap me inside my own body. The fear I feel right now is the kind I imagine feeling when buried alive.

  I’m about to panic, then I hear the voices again and force myself to listen to the conversation. I blink several times to bring myself to the present. That’s when I see them, my sadistic husband and a police officer in uniform.

  That’s it. I can’t stay silent. My rescue has come. There’s a cop in the room with me and he needs to know what’s going on, that Hunter is holding me captive.

  I part my lips to force the words out, to tell the cop everything, but my tongue feels too large inside my mouth. Although the words form inside my throat and make it to the tip of my tongue, they don’t come out. They play inside my head, but that’s where they remain. I’m screaming with frustration now, but no one can hear me.

  My situation reminds me of the nightmares I sometimes used to have as a child, when I screamed and screamed without making a sound.

  “I apologize, Officer, for wasting your time,” Hunter says, walking over to the bed. When our eyes meet, his face folds with fake worry. “She’s awake now. Thank God.” He lets out a long breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  I don’t respond. I can’t and he knows it or else he would never have brought a police officer into the room.

  “Is she all right?” The officer asks. He has a smoker’s voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to take her to the hospital to be checked out?”

  Hunter sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches under the covers for my hand. He squeezes it. “That’s not necessary. I used to be a doctor before moving here. I know how to help her. I’ve been doing it for years. She was actually my patient. That’s how we met and fell in love.” He kisses my forehead. “She’ll be fine. She just needs a little time to get used to her new surroundings. I’m only sorry that she disturbed the neighborhood with her screaming.” He sighs. “I was thinking of keeping it under wraps, but I guess I have to explain to everyone that my wife is mentally ill. They should know what to expect in case she happens to scream in the middle of the night or do something inappropriate. I wouldn’t want someone else to call you for n
othing.”

  “That might be best,” the officer says, frowning as he approaches the bed and glances down at me. He smells of cigarettes and coffee.

  Even though I’m unable to move my body, my eyes plead with him to help me.

  I want to scream out, to tell him he’s being lied to. Hunter is no doctor. He never was. And I’m not mentally ill. Hunter is the one who’s sick to the core of his being.

  It doesn’t work. The cop doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see the pain I’m going through, the fears that plague my mind.

  What if I’m wrong? What if Hunter was someone completely different before I met him? Maybe he really was a doctor. I don’t even know what to believe anymore. He has lied to me from the moment we met. He pretended our love was real, but it was tainted from the start when he pretended to be someone he was not.

  “Very well, Mr. Brooks,” the cop says. “Since you don’t need me, I’ll show myself out. Welcome to Misty Cove.”

  “Thank you for stopping by, Officer,” my sick husband says.

  No, I scream louder inside the head. I can’t let him go, not before he hears me out, not without taking me with him and arresting Hunter.

  I may never get the chance to be in the same room with a cop again. Hunter might even decide to lock me inside the house so I don’t breathe a word to anyone about what’s going on.

  Determined not to let the cop get away, I push through my resistance and force my body to act.

  It fails me yet again, but I manage to make a groaning sound that starts deep inside my throat and explodes from my lips.