Enchained (7 page)

“Let me get this straight, Jany. He cooks like a French chef, he can teach the
Clean House
team a thing or two, he has a sense of humor, he compiles your favorite songs and books, he gets rid of that freaking goofball ex of yours, he treats you with kindness and respect, he obviously covets your rack, and he’s the best sex you’ve ever had. Right?”

“Right.”

“And you’re telling me that you bailed because he played too close to a knife?”

Jany had to smile. Soothed by Melissa’s melodious voice and always at the ready humor, her fears had gone back to the closet.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“There
is
no other way, Jany. Your guy may look like a scarred toad, but he’s Prince Charming.”

“He’s also a mythomaniac. I mean, he made up a crazy story just to get me down into his basement.”

“So? Come on, girl. Aren’t you sick and tired of the insufferable ‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ At least, your monster is imaginative.”

Jany had to admit her friend had a point. “Sure, he is. Freaks tend to be pretty creative, you know.”

“You’re telling me? Hey, I live in Vegas, baby. One thing I’ve learned, real freaks rarely come with scars on their faces.”

“Listen, Melissa, I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Thanks for putting up with me tonight. I really appreciate your concern.”

“You’re ditching me? I can’t believe my ears. You’re actually ditching me.” Her amused tone filled the receiver. “All right, my girl, I’ll stop torturing you now. Curl up in your bed and keep dreaming of handsome knights.”

“What do you mean?”

Melissa laughed, her good mood genuine. “Nothing. Get a good night sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Melissa, and thanks again.”

Hanging up, Jany wished they could see each other more often. She missed Melissa.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll book a flight to Vegas. I need a vacation. I need to relax in a comfortable hotel, flirt with the clerk, drink cocktails, get a massage, drop a few quarters in the slots, and empty my mind. I don’t want to think anymore. I just wanna be a vegetable sunbathing by the pool.

She carried the chair back to the table. Sitting down, she put both hands around the mug. The coffee had turned cold, and she winced when she tasted the bitter liquid. Yet she remained there, staring at the window, the bright lights in the kitchen blinding her to the outside world.

The window exploded. Behind her, well above her head, Jany heard something shatter. Heart in her mouth, brain out of order, she felt rooted to the spot. A cool breeze invaded the kitchen. Like a wake up call, the gentle tap snapped her out of her stupor. Relying on her instincts, she did the only thing that made sense to her. Toppling over, braking her fall with her hands, she lay flat on the cold floor.

Right cheek pressed on a tile, arms folded over her head, body rigid, Jany waited for the second bullet. What else could it be but a bullet? The masked man had warned her, he had told her about the contract, he had asked her to believe him, Hell, he had almost pleaded, but she had refused to listen. So wrong of her.

Eyes shut, lips tight, hands embedded in her short hair, she waited for the second bullet. The monster had actually tried to save her life. He had locked her up in the basement to keep her safe, and she had fled a sanctuary to throw herself in the face of danger.

Don’t ever call Billy a jackass again. God, he’s a rocket scientist compared to you. You think you’re so smart, but you’ve been a real jerk. You knew. You saw his eyes in the mirror. The pain in them. The loneliness. The clarity. Deep down, you knew he was telling the truth. You turned your back on him. You freaked out because you’re an insecure, ungrateful, snooty little bitch!

In an odd kind of way, self-lashing felt reassuring.
Her whole body tense, ears turned into sonars, on the verge of standing up to end the unbearable wait, Jany opened her eyes. How long had it been since the bullet whizzed above her? Seconds? Minutes? Way too long for a hit man to fire again. Something wasn’t right, and if she wanted to live, she’d better be prepared.

Barely lifting her head, she managed to glance toward the shattered window. Shards strewn all over the floor, large fragments of glass jutting from the frame, the big gaping hole that had been her window exposed the black void outside. No hit man. No sniper rifle.

Avoiding abrupt movements, she got on all fours, looking around for the best place to hide. By now, he must know he had missed his target. In any case, it could only mean one thing: he would come to get her.

To reach the front door, she had to go across the whole kitchen. Not a bright idea. Then she spotted the closet, very close and away from the shooting range. Sliding on the smooth tiles, she crawled to the hiding place. Staying low, she turned the knob, opened the door, and wriggled inside. Although hindered by the brooms, buckets, and mops, she managed a standing position. She was pulling the door shut when she heard the noise. Like crunching underfoot, like heavy steps too close to evade.

Locked in the dark, still as a lamppost, Jany listened to the grinding sounds. Without any discretion, the hit man was trampling on the scattered glass shards. He had entered her house through the window. He was inside. He was coming for her.

Jany panicked. She thought the hit man banged the kitchen wall with his fists until she realized she was only hearing the wild thumping of her heart. The ringing in her ears preventing her from catching outside sounds. She stopped breathing. If she prayed very hard, maybe her life would be spared.

Dear God, I promise to be a good girl. I’ll never cheat or deceive again. Let me live, and I promise to do anything for you. Please, don’t let me die. I don’t wanna die.

The closet door flew open.

Chapter Thirteen

She screamed.

Reaching in, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out. Stumbling, she was flung onto his chest, wrapped into his strong arms, and pressed against his knocking heart. Dazed, she quivered under the soft caresses on her hair, the whispers of his velvety voice.

“It’s over. I promise you he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe. Don’t be scared. It’s all over.”

She shuddered. She cried. Tears spilling down her cheeks, she seized his waist and held on to him. She clung to him like an anchor in the storm, whimpering like a lost, terrified child. Still, she felt his hand stroking her hair, her brow. She also felt his relief in the intensity of his embrace, in his slowing heartbeat. Submitted to his soothing, tender fondling, her tears dried up, her muscles loosened up, her pulse slowed to a regular pace. Breathing deeply, she raised her head.

His face turned away from her, she could only see his perfect profile, the pure beauty of his features. She sensed his grip slackening, his hands sliding down her body to let her go. Yet she remained pressed against him, touching him, gripping the back of his shirt.

“Look at me.”

He blinked. He dropped his arms. His chest rising too fast, his jaw hardening, he kept on staring away from her.

“Please look at me.”

Ever so slowly, he did. Devouring the other half of his face, the scars loomed at her. Carved in his flesh as if with a butcher knife, entangled, jumbled, distended, they cut across his skin to form a grisly patchwork. From up close, the horrid mutilations looked even worse.

Jany recoiled. Hardly a step back, yet a world away. Their bodies parted. Unable to find words, she watched him place an envelope on the table, walk to the broken window, and step over the ledge. Then he spoke without looking at her, his ravaged side turned toward the warm night.

“Don’t call the cops. I’ll take care of everything. The contract is null and void. You’re safe now.”

He vanished. This time, she believed him. She went to the window. Mindful of the glass chunks, she poked her head out. The street was dark, quiet, and deserted. Retracing her steps, she glanced at the envelope he had left on the table. Fingers pulsating, she ripped the white wrapping.

Dear Jany,

My name is Cole Johnson. I work for a special branch of the government, and if all goes well, my mission in Anchor’s Town will end tomorrow.
I’m breaking rules in writing this letter, but I need to explain my actions, and I trust your discretion.

We should never have met. If not for Billy Carter’s error of judgment, we wouldn’t have. When I got word of the contract on you, I had very little time to act, and my house seemed the most secure place for you. I used the mask because I didn’t want to frighten you. Please understand I never meant to harm you in any way.

Since I moved here, you have been in my dreams, day and night. Months ago, you stood up for me, and I want you to be sure, I’ll never forget your act of kindness. Still, I apologize for how I treated you. My behavior was out of line, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m not looking for excuse or forgiveness, and I’m deeply sorry for what I put you through. To me, the moment we shared is sacred. For the rest of my life, I will carry in me the pleasure and happiness you gave me.

Yours faithfully,

Cole Johnson

The letter fell from her hands. Legs shaking, throat locked, heart in tatters, tears in her eyes, Jany extended her arms to grip the sides of the table. Holding tight, she opened her mouth. Breathing, panting, gasping, she stared at the flat, brown surface. Memories of him clashed in her mind and burned her trail of thoughts. Jabbed by his passionate words, she allowed in all the emotions she had fought so hard to repress.

Self-reproach high on her list, guilt pierced her guts, regret mutated to loss. Most of all, she felt ashamed of herself. He had feelings for her; he had saved her life in spite of her own stupidity, and now he was leaving forever. Meanwhile, she was gaping at the kitchen table, clinging to the wooden piece of furniture like Dopey the Dwarf on his worst day.

Twice she had recoiled from him. She wouldn’t make the same mistake three times in a row. Grasping at all the courage she could muster on such short notice, she stifled the scared, stubborn, vain, self-centered child living within her. By force of will, she commanded that inner little girl to shut the fuck up and become a grown-up. Her mind made up, Jany hurried to the phone and called a cab.

The taxi dropped her off in front of the small gate. Pushing it inward, she advanced to the front door. Lights were on in the house, curtains drawn. Although the distance to cover seemed short, it took her an eternity to reach the door. Finger on the bell, she hesitated.

What if he didn’t have time to get back? What if he’s held up somewhere? What if he came back to switch the lights on then took off again?

Too many possibilities. Too many uncertainties when the real question never changed. What if he
was
home? Faltering, she withdrew her finger. A weird weakness suddenly claiming her body, she just stood there, arms dangling along her sides, heart knocking in her ribcage.

I can’t come in. I’m not strong enough, I’ll never make it. Dear God, whatever possessed me to come all this way in the middle of the night? Well, now that I’m here, I can’t turn back, can I? How about a quick glance? Come on, Jany. There’s no harm in that. In and out, just a peek, a tiny little peek.

The tip of her tongue sticking out, she seized the knob, inching it to the left. Without the slightest noise, the door breathed in. Adopting the pace of a sedated snail, she poked her head through the crack. Silence in the empty hallway. Coming from the closest room to the right, the lights took on a beckoning glow. Jany entered the house.

Drawn to the warm radiance, she moved toward the brightness. Decorated in brown and creamy white hues, the living room looked inviting and comfortable. At its center, a long, black leather couch competed for master of the room. On the wall a watercolor painting blended light and dark with a pastoral scene. Opposite the couch, a big screen took second place in the furniture contest. Behind the television, someone moved.

As if somebody had called out “red light,” Jany froze. Heart alive and kicking, eyes wide open, she saw him stand up. Naked to the waist, short hair tousled, focused on the screwdriver he was holding back to front, he scratched the handle of the tool.

Stripped from his shirt, muscles slightly bulging, skin glowing in the bright lights, he resembled a mythological demigod. If not for his arms. Covered in nasty scars, gashed, sliced, slashed, sewn from shoulders to fingertips, his arms stood out like angry clouds in a clear blue sky.

He raised his head as Jany realized the extent of the damage, the horror of the full picture. For the third time, she recoiled.

Chapter Fourteen

The pain in his eyes stabbed her. An ancient hurt flaring up for a flicker of an instant and dwindling. Then resignation. Although she was ready to flee, the deep ache in his green gaze stopped Jany in her tracks. A few feet away, the front door stood open. Opposite her, the man paused.

“What happened?”

Her words sounded like a croak, yet he didn’t seem to notice. In a flowing movement, he put the screwdriver on the nearest table.

“I figured you’d go home, but I didn’t want to follow you, so I wrote you a letter. Then I got restless. I guess you’d call it a hunch. When I parked near your house, I spotted the hit man across the street. He was hiding behind the fence in your neighbor’s garden, aiming at you. I ran just in time to deflect his first shot and to knock him out.”

Keeping his distance, her disfigured savior picked up his shirt from the back of a chair before slipping it on. “I turned him over to my backup team. This hit man belongs to a large organization we’ve been tracking for years. We knew he’d end up in Anchor Town at some point, so I settled here and waited him out. Don’t be afraid. He has no connection to you. The contract on your head was just a side dish. You’ve nothing to fear from anyone.”

As he lowered his head to button up his shirt, Jany took advantage of the moment to look at his scars. “I mean, what happened to
you
?”

He fidgeted with the buttons. Then he raised his face, his riveting gaze taking her breath away.”I used to be in the army. Ten years ago, we were sent overseas to secure a perimeter. I was captured and tortured for months.”

She didn’t hear resentment, coldness or anger in his smooth voice, only his flat tone delivering facts. Her stomach constricted, a bitter taste rising up her throat. “For information?”

The outline of a smile curved his unspoiled lips. “For pleasure. We weren’t officers, just soldiers. We had no information to give, and they knew it. They came every day with long, carving knives. We bled. They slashed and threw salt into the wounds. One scar for each passing day.”

A tear rolled down Jany’s cheek. Rubbing the sides of her arms, she listened to the end of his tale.

“Most of us died. I was rescued just before they began cutting my legs.” As if the experience belonged to a different person, he shrugged before concluding. “They maimed my face and my life.”

She wiped the tear on her chin with the back of her hand. Swallowing hard, she stared at him. Jailed, tortured, mutilated, cast out, he had managed to retain a goodness she rarely saw in people. Despite a life of hardship and loneliness, he had held on to his soul, his humanity.

Instincts pushing her forward, Jany came up to him. He didn’t move as she raised quivering fingers to his face. She expected roughness; she felt misshapen softness. She heard his intake of breath as her hand touched his cheek, sensed a new tension in his body. Yet he let her explore his face.

Gently brushing his marked cheek, her fingers slid down to his perfect mouth. She caressed the full, sensual lips, a sudden lash of lust whipping her. An uncontrollable tremor running her through, she looked up to see his eyes widening, a wild dream springing up from their emerald depths.