Midnight Rain: A Dark Romance Thriller (Amour Toxique Book 3) Page 6

  “Everything you need is in there. I’m sorry you had to go through . . . all that.” Adrian stands and goes to stand next to Hanna’s armchair, a hand on top of her head.

  I lift a passport from the case and flip it open. It’s mine. My identity. Damien must have snuck into my dorm room to steal it before kidnapping me.

  I study it in silence. Will I even be able to travel with it seeing that I’m believed to be dead? I guess I’ll just have to get to the US Consulate to see what they say and ask for their help. I need to get back to the States before Judson finds me. Then I have to find a place to hide until I’m one hundred percent convinced that Judson is behind bars again, for good this time. Before that, it would be a terrible idea for me to reveal myself to anyone who knows me or to the press.

  “The money?” I ask, touching a top note with the tip of my finger.

  “It’s to keep you afloat for a while, wherever you decide to go.” Adrian returns to the couch and lifts the notes to reveal a white envelope with the Steel Enterprises logo in one corner. “That’s for you too. A letter from him.”

  Sucking in a breath, I pick up Damien’s last letter to me. I expel the breath through my mouth and open it.

  Ivy my love,

  If you’re reading this, our time together has come to an end. You have left me and I’m to blame. In my attempts to love you, I’ve hurt you in unforgivable ways. The words bleeding onto this paper are not enough to express how sorry I am for being cruel, for breaking your heart with my love for you. Maybe I’m naïve but I dare to hold the hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me for destroying your heart and your life. I wish I could turn back the clock and do everything differently.

  I wish I’d realized sooner that loving you too much is the surest way of losing you. Holding you tight has only suffocated you and pushed you further away. This goodbye is inevitable and it’s my bloody fault. Nothing will ever be able to repair the parts of you I damaged, but I’m hoping that the little I’m offering you will make it easier for you to get back into your life. I hope you find someplace safe and far away from me, where you can rebuild your life and find happiness.

  I hope you get your life back, that you’ll find your laughter again. I’m such a fool for making everyone believe you’re dead, even though you are the most vibrant person I have ever met. I never told you this, but you gave me my life back.

  It may be selfish of me to say this but I have to say it. The truth remains that my love for you is real. It hurts to think I’ll never see your sweet face again, but that’s a punishment I deserve and have to live with.

  Goodbye, Rosebud, forever if that’s your wish.

  D.S.

  A teardrop hits the page as I fold up the letter. Damien is not the man I’d fallen for in Oaklow, the man who had arrested me with his words. The man who wormed his way into my heart is Judson, the devil. Having seen Judson’s true colors, perhaps I should be grateful it was Damien who showed up first. If it had been Judson who had kidnapped me, I’d probably be dead by now, or lost to the point I’m be unable to recognize myself.

  I slide the letter back underneath the cash and close the briefcase, but hold on to my passport. I change my mind and reopen it, removing a handful of cash. Without counting the bills, I press them into Adrian’s hand. If I didn’t need the money to get out of Mexico, I’d have given them everything.

  Adrian pushes the money back into my hand and curls my fingers around it. “This is too much. We can’t take it.”

  Hanna comes to sit on the other side of me. “He’s right. We’re not worthy of your generosity. Not after what we did. We buried our heads in the sand while you endured so much suffering.”

  “You did nothing wrong.” I sigh. “Damien was your boss. You did what you thought was right. And you’re here now. You stepped up for me when it mattered most.” I hand the money to Hanna this time. “Please take it.”

  Hanna nods and takes the money. She squeezes my hand.

  “Will you return to Oaklow?” Adrian shifts in his seat. “I don’t mean to pry. You deserve to live your life how and where you please. It’s just that I promised Damien I’d make sure you’re safe.”

  “I have no idea. So much has changed. I’m not sure I still have a life where I left it.” I chew a corner of my nail. “Oaklow is the last place I felt at home. I don’t know where else to go.”

  “If Judson escapes, Oaklow would be the first place he looks for you.”

  I suck in a breath before I release it through my nose. The thought of Judson still roaming free is one I do not want to entertain. “How about both of you? What are your plans? You rescued me, Adrian. You could be in as much danger as I am. Judson saw you.”

  “True.” Adrian runs a hand over his mustache. “That’s why we’re moving out of Mexico as well. It holds too many dark memories.”

  Hanna clasps her hands in her lap, over the money I gave her. “We’ve been considering returning to the US for a while now. Now that Damien is . . . dead, there’s nothing keeping us here.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Have you heard of Misty Cove, Florida? It’s a small beach town I used to spend most of my summers as a child, visiting my grandparents.” Adrian leans back and gazes into space. “They’re long gone now, but their cottage is still there.”

  I close the briefcase and set it on the floor. “I need a place to hide out for a while. Is Misty Cove big enough for one more person?”

  “Absolutely.” Adrian leans forward. “You might even find you like it enough to stay longer than a few weeks. You’re welcome to stay with us until you get back on your feet.”

  Hanna gets to her feet. “That’s a wonderful idea. I think we should leave as soon as possible. We wouldn’t want Judson to find us here.”

  “I agree.” Adrian pulls a pad and paper from a nearby drawer. “In fact, we should take tomorrow’s evening train to Guadalajara. We’re not taking much from this house. We want nothing weighing us down.”

  “I appreciate your help.” Fresh tears fill my eyes. My experience with being on the train to Guadalajara will forever taint me, but knowing I won’t be alone this time makes me feel that much more secure. “Thank you for being here.”

  Hanna waves a dismissive hand. “No need to thank us. Now, let me go make us a fresh pot of coffee. We need to discuss the details and then, Ivy, you should try and rest.”

  Chapter Twelve

  A weight is pressing down on me, crushing my ribcage, flattening my lungs so they’re unable to expand enough to let in enough air. I jolt awake, my hands clutching my chest. Even though my heart is thudding, I’m okay. Everything is fine. No one is here but me and my racing heart.

  My gaze sweeps the room where I spent the last dark hours of the morning. The morning sun has replaced the darkness and sunlight is making the curtains glow. With its pink princess wallpaper, the tiny bed, and pink tutu-lampshade, Hanna and Adrian’s guest room looks like it once belonged to a little girl. When they showed me the room last night I asked if they have grandkids but they both shook their heads and said they never had children. I changed the subject. It’s none of my business to dig further.

  I pull myself up in bed and place a hand on my forehead. It comes away with sweat clinging to it, some of which drips down my temples, past my eyelids, and into my eyes. I brush it away. My heart still refuses to relax, as though warning me not to get too comfortable, that danger could still be lurking in the shadows. But the sunflower clock on the wall tells me it’s 6:00 a.m. I’ve been asleep for four hours and Judson has not shown up. Maybe the police arrested him.

  I touch my cheek, the place where Judson had sliced his knife into my skin. The memories flood back as though I flipped a switch. In my mind, Judson’s monster eyes gaze back at me, hatred filling them like molten lava. I remember Damien’s eyes coated with tears and regret, the concern about my safety.

  What if Judson hadn’t shown up? What if I’d returned to the States as plann
ed with no one hindering my departure? Would I have been able to report Damien to the cops? I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved that those decisions have been taken from me by the bullet that killed Damien. Now I have no choice but to live with the memories of the time he kept me locked up, the time he opened his heart to me, and those of his death. I don’t know what they will do with his body but I can’t do a thing about it without putting my life in danger. There’s no way I can return home and pick up where I left off. I have to lay low for a while, to rebuild my life in secret.

  I ease my legs out of bed and stand, my knees creaking. As I move, I feel as though I’ve aged a couple of years not hours. I push back the curtain with one finger. Outside, a small winding path leads to an isolated sandy beach. I gaze beyond the sand to the rolling waves, wishing I could ride the white peaks to my freedom, deep in the sea where no one can find me.

  I away turn from the window and get dressed in a simple beige cotton dress Hanna gave me. I approach the door, it’s still locked from before I slept. I unlock it and walk out. Hanna had said I should sleep in and she’ll knock on the door when it’s time for breakfast, but I’m awake and being alone is not appealing right now. I’m desperate for a shower but the fear of something happening while I’m helpless appeals to me even less. The aroma of fried eggs and sausages meets me on the other side of the door. My stomach responds with a grunt.

  I wish we didn’t have to wait the entire afternoon before leaving town. If only there were more than one train to transport us to safety. My heart will not be able to stop racing until we step off the train in Guadalajara. But right now, breakfast sounds like a great idea.

  I follow the sounds of cutlery clinking, my mouth watering with each step.

  Halfway down the stairs, dizziness washes over me, as though someone has spun me around several times and let me go without support. I put a hand on the railing and take my time going down. The sounds in the kitchen have stopped by the time my foot touches the last step.

  When I open the kitchen door, I’m surprised to find no one there. Although the table is set. Plates of sausages and eggs, and a pitcher of orange juice are in the center of the round table, around a vase with a single white rose inside. I’m so hungry that I’m tempted to sit and eat but it would be disrespectful to Adrian and Hanna. I pull out a chair and lower myself into it. As I wait for them to arrive, I close my eyes and take slow breaths, allowing the low classical music spilling out of a small kitchen radio on the windowsill to wash over me.

  I lift my eyelids again when I hear the sound of the door opening. My stomach drops.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The devil walks in, clad in a bathrobe I’d seen hanging from a hook behind Adrian and Hanna’s upstairs bathroom.

  Oh shit.

  Damien is gone and Judson has managed not only to run from the police but to catch up with us. We were fools for believing even for a second that the nightmare is over.

  “Morning, sunshine. Isn’t it a beautiful day?” He gives me a smile that would fool anyone into thinking he’s a normal, handsome man. He pulls out a gun and places it on the table between the loaf of bread and the orange juice. “I see you haven’t eaten yet. I’m not much of a cook but I put in the effort to prepare breakfast for you. You must be starving. I am.”

  I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t even blink. I was well aware that there was a chance Judson could catch up with us. I never expected it to be so soon. Definitely not in time for breakfast in a house that’s not his, not in Adrian’s bathrobe. It would have been more plausible if he had crashed through the door with his gun, threatening to shoot us in cold blood.

  A bubble of fear pushes itself up my throat but I can’t swallow it. My supply of saliva has dried up. Where are Hanna and Adrian? Did he kill them while I slept?

  After studying him for a few painful heartbeats, the shock in my system transforms to adrenaline, bringing me back to life. On the outside, my body resembles a block of ice, frozen and unmoving. On the inside, my mind is spinning out of control, scrambling for solutions, searching for ways of escape. My gaze roams the surface of the table. I don’t find what I’m searching for.

  “Looking for a knife to attack me with?” Judson reaches for my plate and spoons scrambled eggs on one side before placing a slice of bread next to them. His lips curl into a sadistic smile as he pushes the food toward me. “Don’t waste your time, sweetheart. I know your thoughts before you think them.” He pours me a glass of orange juice. “You’ll love the eggs, by the way. When I was a kid, Mom made the best scrambled eggs. That was, of course, when she wasn’t too drunk to be a mother.” He takes a sip from my orange juice before placing it next to my plate. “I don’t blame her for wanting to escape reality. Being married to a man who made a business of owning and fucking beautiful woman couldn’t have been easy, even when he showered her with expensive gifts.”

  “What . . . what did you do to them?” I ask when my voice returns. My hands are curled into fists next to me as I await his response. I don’t need to elaborate because, as he said before, he knows my thoughts.

  “You mean Hanna and Adrian? You’ll find out soon enough. First, let’s enjoy a nice breakfast together. Wasn’t that what you always wanted? When we wrote those letters to each other, I read between the lines. I knew you wanted a future with me.” He observes the small kitchen and returns his gaze to me. “You wanted something like this, am I right? A sweet little family with one or two kids running around. You dreamed of us having breakfast together on a Sunday morning. Such a shame that won’t be happening. But we can have this un-rushed moment together.” He piles food onto his own plate. “We can share a meal before it’s time for you to die. I’m sure you understand that I have to kill you.”

  “The way you murdered your own brother.” I can’t help treading on dangerous ground.

  “Hmmm … I love the fire in your eyes. Well, yes.” He shoves a spoonful of eggs into his mouth, chews in silence and swallows. “He was an inconvenience. When something becomes inconvenient to you, you get rid of it, don’t you agree? It was for the best, trust me.”

  While he speaks and eats his food, I continue thinking of ways to escape. If I run from the table, it would be all too easy for him to shoot me in the back before I make it to the door. My only other option is for me to be the first to get my hands on his gun and shoot him before he shoots me. Getting away from him without killing him first is proving to be impossible. I might not be able to survive this ordeal without blood on my hands. It boils down to his life or mine.

  He reaches for his gun, pulls it closer to him. “You still haven’t touched your food,” he says, disapproval in his voice. “Isn’t it to your liking?”

  Holding a normal conversation with a psychopath is difficult, so I hold my tongue and cross my arms across my chest.

  “Why the fuck don’t you quit being a stubborn little bitch? Here I was thinking it would be a kind gesture for me to serve you your last meal before sending you to the grave. Instead you throw it back in my face.” He shoves away his plate. It collides with my glass of orange juice. The orange liquid spills over the rim and taints the white tablecloth. He grabs his gun and pushes back his chair. He gets to his feet.

  I jump when he yanks the tablecloth clean off the table along with everything on it. The meal he has prepared ends up a mess on the linoleum floor mixed in with fragments of glass and ceramic. “Get up,” he barks.

  “Please, don’t do this,” I beg but his eyes are hard as a marble.

  It’s over.

  The monster is going to have his way. I’ll be dead by end of day. If even the police can’t stop him, who will be able to? The fear inside my veins is like ice cold water, leaving me a trembling mess with goose pimples all over my skin. My knees knock as I get to my feet with the support of the table’s edge. The last thing I need is for him to revel in my fear, but my body has reached a point where it’s acting on its own.

  “Shut the fuck up and g
o upstairs.” He waves the gun to the door.

  As I move ahead of him, I imagine my heart shrinking inch by inch inside my chest. Every step I take hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, it even hurts to blink.

  Outside the kitchen, I listen to every sound over my thudding heart and cars driving by outside. I listen for the voices of Hanna and Adrian. I hear nothing that brings me a shred of hope.

  Feeling Judson’s eyes pinned on the back of my head, I take small steps. I’m not prepared for whatever his poisonous mind has in store for me. Soon he’s fed up with my slow pace and grabs me by the back of my neck, gun on my temple, as he moves me forward together with him, pulling me into an evil dance I don’t want to be a part of. I thought by now I’d know what fear is. But I had no idea. What I feel now is the purest form of fear I’ve ever experienced.

  One. Two. Three. Four. I count every step we climb. My hands clutch the banister.

  The moment we reach the top of the stairs, I dig my heels in so we come to stop.

  “What the fuck are you playing at? I’m tired of this bullshit.” He slams a hand between my shoulder blades. The impact is so hard I stumble. He catches me by the hair before I fall. Ignoring my shrieks, he drags me to Adrian and Hanna’s bedroom door and kicks it open. With the thick velvet blinds drawn, the room is dark.

  Judson flicks on the light and pushes me inside. The moment the room swallows me, dread grips the base of my spine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Look at them, so at peace.” Judson jams his hands into his pockets as he gazes at the quilt-covered double bed. “My apologies for not giving you a chance to say goodbye. I may have been a little impatient to get the job done.”

  It takes my mind a while to absorb the picture in front of me. Adrian and Hanna are lying in bed, next to each other, Adrian’s arm draped over his wife in a protective gesture. No signs of struggle, no rumpled sheets, not a drop of blood. If I didn’t know better I’d think they were sleeping. But I don’t need to see the blood to know it’s there, hidden beneath the sheets. Judson doesn’t have to tell me they’re dead. The chill on my spine confirms it.