Read Dictator s Daughter Online

Authors: Lorena Angell

Tags: #romance, #family saga, #spies, #controller, #disguise, #dictator, #traitor, #dictatorship, #young adult crossover, #defector, #crossover fiction, #double crosser, #dictators daughter

Dictator s Daughter

BOOK: Dictator s Daughter
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The Dictator’s Daughter

Scars of Defiance: Book Two

 

By Lorena Angell

 

Copyright 2011 Lorena Angell

Smashwords Edition

 

Second Edition 2011

 

This eBook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.

This book may not be reproduced or used in
whole or in part by any means existing without written permission
from the publisher, Lorena Angell.

 

This book is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or
locales is entirely coincidental. The names, characters, places and
incidents are productions of the author’s imagination and used
fictitiously.

 

For more titles by Lorena Angell:

http://lorenaangell.blogspot.com

 

 

Chapter 1

 

In the dark cold room, Eliwese sat nearly
naked on the floor with her back against the wall and her knees
pulled close to her chest. She shivered from the coolness, due to
the fact she’d been stripped down to her bra and panties before
being shoved inside, which perplexed her. Why was she being treated
this way? This was supposed to be a safe location. And yet, upon
arrival she was treated like a prisoner, even though her identity
was well known to all.

Another shiver wracked her body. Her petite
shoulders and neck might have been a little warmer at present if
she hadn’t chopped off her long auburn locks that had taken most of
her twenty-two years to grow to the small of her back. However, she
knew cutting and dyeing her only pride and joy was a necessity to
further her disguise and complete her mission.

The dank room was void of furniture and the
color of the walls reminded her of the pond at the sewage treatment
plant. The dusty hardwood floor held no heat and gave zero comfort.
Her eyes traveled up to a minuscule window set high on the wall on
the other side of the room letting in a small amount of light.
Oddly enough, security bars were attached to the outside of the
opening. The chance of anyone escaping through such a small gap was
depressing enough. What purpose did the bars serve?

She heard low male voices outside the door,
her whole body tensed with fear and she pulled her knees even
closer to her chest.

The rusty hinges on the door squealed as it
was pushed open. Her eyes squinted shut due to the extreme
difference in lighting. Once they adjusted she saw the silhouettes
of three muscular, broad-shouldered men stalking toward her while a
fourth stood in the doorway. She inched away from them as much as
she could. She smelled rank sweat and strong liquor and heard the
low rumble of their collective breathing as they stood over her
like sentinels, blocking her in and preventing her escape.

The man at the door issued the two-word
command the three men were waiting for.

“Do it.” He said with little more than a rasp
as he turned away and closed the door.

Pain beyond measure ripped through her small
body. She would have screamed if the first kick to her ribs hadn’t
taken her wind away. Never before had she been beaten like this,
and she had had her share of beatings. Her mind settled on the all
too familiar place of tranquility, the place she took her mind when
her surroundings were too much to handle —a beautiful beach with
crystal blue water and cloudless skies, perhaps it was somewhere in
the Caribbean— She fell over sideways and curled up in the fetal
position in an effort to protect her body as much as possible.
Darkness overtook her as she lost consciousness.

 

Eliwese awoke on a small cot in the same dark
room with every inch of her body in pain. She lay perfectly still
taking mental inventory of her injuries when she became aware of a
presence in the room. A man sat on a wooden chair, leaning back on
two legs against the wall.

Everything she’d been told about the
underground led her to believe she would be safe here. No one had
warned her of a possible attack or beating. She would have prepared
by bracing her mind to think of it as a small price to pay for the
end results, or rationalized the abuse as a means to an end, but
this had caught her off guard. This place proved to be no different
than any other place she’d gone.

She tried to focus on the man’s face but she
couldn’t make her eyes cooperate, and she realized one eye had
swollen completely shut. She couldn’t take deep breaths because of
the excruciating pain in her ribs. Her left leg between the knee
and ankle had sharp pains and was most likely broken. She tried to
wiggle her left hand and fingers but it was no good, too much pain.
As she finished up her evaluation of her physical condition, a wave
of relief flooded over her body; she had not been raped.

She let out a small sigh which caught the
attention of the man against the wall. He leaned forward, bringing
the two front legs of his chair down to the floor with a thud.
Eliwese jumped with a start, which in turn, sent pain coursing
throughout her body.

The man stood up and walked over to her
side.

“Eliwese, Eliwese…. what am I going to do
with you?”

His all too recognizable voice resonated
through her small body. Why was
he
here at the secret
underground compound? This place was where people fled to in order
to hide from him. Somebody must have ratted her out; and now her
plan had failed before it had even begun.

“I warned you, I threatened you, but you
wouldn’t listen to me. Somewhere deep inside is a constant churning
of senselessness and you should be smarter than this, Eliwese.” His
breath reeked of tobacco and whiskey and sickened her as each burst
of air hit her cheek. She had never been able to tolerate his
smell. The memories associated with his aroma nauseated her and
bile began to climb up her throat.

She tried to talk but only a gurgle would
come out. Her tongue seemed to fill her entire mouth and she tasted
blood; fear overtook her body and mind. She thought about how this
man had been such a significant part of her life up to this point,
the one man she was truly running from, and now he knew of her
plans. She wondered if he would return her home, or simply kill
her.

His size out-measured hers, along with his
age, by a long shot. He bent low over her cot and placed his hand
on the side of her face, caressing her gently as a lover would. She
cringed at his attempt of tenderness and was disgusted at the
thought of what would come next.

“You think by cutting your hair and changing
its color you can hide from me?” He ran his fingers through her
short black hair. Her scalp hurt in places that, no doubt, were
bruised and swollen from the attack. She flinched away from his
contact and squeezed her one good eye shut in an effort to get him
to stop. He leaned even closer and whispered in her ear, “You’ll
never be rid of me, little one. I know where you’re going, hell,
I
arranged everything.” He laughed sadistically.

“You?” Her throat wouldn’t let her say
anything else, she didn’t need to.

“Does this shock you, Eliwese?”

She closed her eyes in resignation.

“I will keep my eye on you and I will always
know what you are doing. I will always know who you are with and if
you think for a second you can escape my grasp, I’ll kill your
mother and sister.” He straightened himself upright towering over
her.

“Father?” She attempted to ask if her father
knew about the underground.

“Oh, Victor will get what’s coming to him.
I’ll handle him when it will best suit my endeavors. You see, once
my place is secured in the palace, he will no longer be
needed.”

His comment both answered her prior question
and gave her an all new one. Clearly, her father didn’t realize
what his closest confidant was up to.

“So, go take your little vacation, Eliwese,
but never forget I
will
,” he said emphatically as he
unfastened his belt, “father the next ruler of Rendier.”

 

**********

 

Sean Cutler sat on the bench at Bill’s
Pharmacy waiting for his order to be filled. He ran his fingers
through his dark brown hair, realizing he needed a haircut soon. He
preferred his hair to be short, trim and clean cut.

He watched the other customers with amusement
as he waited. A young mother wrestled with her son who couldn’t
have been more than four years old. He wanted candy but his mother
refused. By the way the little boy carried on, Sean figured the
candy would win out in the end. It did.

An elderly man stood in line with the aid of
his walker, smiling at the young female cashier. The girl chomped
on her bubblegum and threw flirtatious glances to a handsome young
man who happened to be standing behind the elderly man.
Poor old
guy
, Sean thought,
he thinks she’s flirting with
him.

Sean glanced over to the newspaper magazine
rack and read some of the headlines: ‘Record Trout caught on Slater
Lake weighing nineteen pounds.’ Another title read: ‘Northtown
gears up for visit from Rendierian leader, Victor Rawlings.’

Great,
Sean thought to himself
sarcastically,
Rawlings in our back yard; that’s just what we
need.
He wondered what would bring the dictator to their
country.

Another headline read: ‘Jaime Knutson’s
exclusive interview with Victor Rawlings and the state of his
country.’ The smaller print read: ‘Pres. Rawlings gives an inside
look into his country’s largest diamond mine, deep in the Trejo
Mountain Range.’

Sean walked over to the magazine and thumbed
through to find the article. He skimmed through the story touching
on the absurd claims that the nation was in the best financial
situation in one-hundred years. The individual comments of praise
and admiration for Victor Rawlings made Sean think that perhaps
behind the camera stood a soldier toting an M60 for gentle
persuasion.
Right, like Rendierians need persuasion to say kind
things about their leader; if they said anything negative today
they’d be missing tomorrow.
Still, most people around the world
believed this insane propaganda.

Even in Slaterville, the closest town to the
border of Rendier, most residents weren’t aware of the dangers
lurking nearby. Sean understood all too well because of his
upbringing. His own mother Sara Cutler escaped from Rendier when
she was eighteen.

He put the magazine back and his eye caught a
men’s magazine featuring a well known shirtless movie star on the
front. Sean compared his own body with the picture. The only thing
the movie star had over Sean was about fifty-million dollars.

At twenty-four years of age, Sean’s features
were chiseled and well-defined. His physique was anything but wimpy
and he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Unfortunately, a hunky
body wasn’t always enough. In fact, the cute young cashier probably
drooled over the pictured movie star, but would she think the same
of Sean?

“Cutler,” the pharmacist called out and Sean
walked over to pay for the prescriptions. He caught the attention
of the cashier and smiled at her. She didn’t give him the time of
day.
Yep, nailed that one on the head,
Sean mused to
himself.

Sean exited the building into the cool fall
air. The late afternoon sun shone brightly, illuminating all of the
changing colors filling the valley where he lived. Many trees were
still green but they wouldn’t stay that way for long. He took a
deep lungful of the crisp, clean autumn air and walked to his
truck. He climbed in and emptied the bag of medications on the
seat. He scanned the contents to make sure the entire order was
filled correctly. Everything checked out and he crammed the bottles
back inside the bag. He put it with the other supplies he’d
collected on his errand run for his mother.

Today’s errand running had also involved
driving a man to the Northtown Airport. ‘James’ escaped from
Rendier a little over a month ago and had been ‘in hiding’ at
Sean’s home. Today, ‘James’ began his new life as a Baylend
resident under a new assumed name and identity.

Sean’s family, including his mother and
father, younger brother and older sister, all worked together in
the dangerous and illegal business of housing border crossers. For
four generations the Cutler family has continued to help crossers,
and if Sean’s parents had their way, they’d continue until
death.

BOOK: Dictator s Daughter
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