Beneath a Blood Moon (5 page)

The door wasn’t locked, and with a dismayed cry, Isabella stepped outside. The cabin wasn’t much larger than a shed, and the desert loomed all around us. The oppressive, relentless heat drove my friend back inside the cabin’s welcoming cool.

“What the fuck?” Closing the door, she checked over the rest of the cabin, which consisted of a tiny bedroom, an even smaller kitchenette, and a bathroom with a shower stall.

Through the bathroom window, I saw a long line of electric poles stretching across the desert. I pointed at it. “Must be something that way.”

“Are you stupid? We’ll die trying to cross the desert like this. There’s nothing in here we can use to carry water. We have no idea where we are.” Isabella glared at me before returning to the main sitting room, flopping down on the couch. “We’re stuck.”

Something about the way she gave up without even attempting to free herself pissed me off. I swayed but remained standing, staring at her for a long moment. I clenched my teeth.

As her friend, I shouldn’t have even considered leaving her behind, but I was tired. I was tired of being pushed around. I was tired of being afraid. I was tired of being a second-rate citizen compared to her; she was beautiful, smarter than I ever hoped to be, and willing to do whatever it took to advance her wealth and social standing.

I had left that life behind, renouncing it when I ran away from New York to escape my father’s fury at my poor choices and his overbearing, controlling behavior.

If I had to choose between staying a hostage or dying in the desert, it wasn’t a difficult choice to make. It was a stupid decision to make, but I was beyond caring.

I would rather die free. Maybe she was content to wait for her fate, but I wasn’t.

Lifting my chin, I glared down my nose at Isabella. “No, Isabella.
You’re
stuck.”

Isabella’s eyes widened and her mouth hung open, though she didn’t say a word. Satisfied I had made my point clear, I stomped to the door and flung it open.

A man stood in the doorway, watching me with a faint smile on his lips and a gleam in his blue eyes. Recognition drove me back several steps, and with my heart in my throat, I spluttered.

The years had refined Rory, smoothing away the rough edges that had appealed to me when I had met him at sixteen. Instead of the tattered t-shirt he had once favored, he wore a black suit and a pristine white shirt. Desert sand dusted his legs. When he strode towards me, I backed away, shaking my head in denial.

He halted in the center of the room, sliding his hands into his pockets. He considered me before flashing his best smile at Isabella.

“Well, well, well,” he murmured. “It seems you ladies were industrious while I was gone. Pardon my rude invitation. I didn’t think you’d accept if I went about it the normal way.” Rory turned his attention to me, and there was something predatory about the way he grinned at me. “You’ve gotten prettier, Sara. I hadn’t thought it possible. I like your hair. It suits you.”

My legs gave out beneath me and I sank to the floor, staring up at the blond-haired, blue-eyed man I had defied my parents for, only to have him cheat on me the same day my father’s rage had left my arm scarred and broken. While the hairline crack had healed, the memory of its pain remained.

As the shock wore off, my fury at his betrayal washed through me, giving me the strength to get to my feet. I shook from head to toe, balling my hands into fists at my side. “You cheating son of a bitch,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “You left the threats? You disgusting frea—”

When I had known him, Rory had been slow and deliberate in the way he moved. Closing the distance between us in a long stride, he whipped out his arm and cracked the back of his hand across my face. My head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and I staggered. He grabbed hold of my upper arm, his fingers closing around the injury my father had give me three years before.

Without his hold on me, I would have fallen. Blood streamed down my chin from where his blow had split my lip.

“Watch your mouth,” he snapped. The sound that came out of his throat wasn’t human; it was an animal’s growl, and it sent shivers racing through me. “You should be grateful. I could have decided to simply kill your friend, but I thought you’d appreciate her company.”

“Jesus Christ!” Isabella gasped out, rising to her feet.

Without hesitation, Rory pulled a gun from his pocket, pointing it at my friend. “Sit down and be quiet, ma’am. This doesn’t involve you at the moment. This is between me and Sara.”

Isabella’s face paled, and she sank down onto the couch without a word.

“Why did you leave me?” The way Rory’s eyes bore into me chilled me to the bone.

Instead of a sane woman’s fear, my rage, disgust, and self-loathing smothered all of my other emotions. My anger won, and I lifted my hand to mouth, pressing my palm to the wound to staunch the flow of blood. All of the things I had wanted to scream at him years ago bubbled out of me in a relentless flood. “Why would I stay with a cheating bastard like you? I told you. I told you from the start. All I wanted from you was your loyalty. You sold yourself pretty cheap to that other girl, didn’t you? Didn’t think I’d catch you in the act, did you? How did she get you? Did she buy you a couple of shots? Maybe drugs you couldn’t afford? Did she let you take her for a ride in your piece of shit car when I wouldn’t? Well? Which was it? Piece of shit cheater. My only regret is that I didn’t run far enough.”

I pulled my hand away from my mouth, turning my palm to him. My blood dripped down my arm, reached my elbow, and fell to the floor.

All of the anger fled from his expression as he stared at my red-stained skin. With a gentle touch, he seized my wrist in one hand and my chin with the other. I froze, trembling at the bruising strength of his grip. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“I never should have gotten involved with you. Looks like my father was right.” With far more strength than I thought I possessed, I ripped my hand free of his hold. “Let me go. Forget it, Rory. I’ll never take a cheating scumbag like you back.”

“Even if it costs you your life?” he asked, arching a brow. “It might, you know. I have no intention of letting you get away this time. Not after I spent so long hunting you down. I have to give you credit. You did a pretty good job of hiding. Now that I’ve found you, I won’t lose you again.”

“I’d rather die.”

When he backhanded me again, I hit the floor hard, stunned from the force of his blow. For a long moment, I couldn’t even breathe, let alone fight him when he dug his foot into my side and rolled me onto my back. He pressed his shoe between my breasts and pinned me to the floor with his weight. “You will, unless you change your mind,” he promised.

Breathing hurt, and I had the feeling Rory had broken something pressing down so hard against my chest. Sharp pains blossomed from where he pinned me with his foot, strengthening each time I inhaled. He ignored me, all of his attention focused on Isabella.

The minutes dragged by, until so much time passed my body went numb, and all I was aware of was Rory’s weight crushing my chest. I should have fought him, but as when I had initially woken up, my body refused to obey me.

“After you kill her, are you going to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill her,” my ex-boyfriend replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

It was the same way my father had sounded in the hours before I had run away from home, leaving New York behind me.

“Doesn’t look that way to me, doll. I’ve seen people die before, and she’s on her way out the door. If you wanted her alive, you wouldn’t be standing on her like that when it’s pretty obvious you’ve hurt her pretty bad.” Isabella laughed, and it was a happy sound. “Figured it’d happen to her one of these days, teasing so many men without putting out for any of them. Hell, I don’t think she’s ever taken one of the poor bastards she’s teased home with her, not even out of pity. Look, I like living. I’ll take you for a ride you’ll never forget, but in exchange, you’ll take me back to the city when you’re done with me. Forget her and come play with me.”

Rory jerked his foot off of me. I shifted my gaze to my friend, wondering if she was backhandedly trying to help me or if she genuinely didn’t care if I died.

The way she smiled, her attention focused entirely on Rory, told me all I needed to know. Her loyalty, such as it was, had come cheap enough.

It shouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest her friendship was just as easily sold when I outlived my usefulness. I should have blamed her, but I couldn’t bring myself to. After all, without me, she wouldn’t have been kidnapped in the first place.

“What’s your name, doll?” Isabella murmured, and she shifted on the couch, as restless as the men we danced for.

“Rory,” my ex replied. “Yours?”

“Isabella, but you can call me Isa, if you’d like. I promise I can do so much better than she ever could.”

I stared up at Rory, and his expression darkened. “I wouldn’t know. I gave her a year, and she wouldn’t have anything to do with sleeping with me.”

The widening of my friend’s eyes was subtle, although her gaze flicked to me before returning to Rory’s face. “As I said, she’s a tease. Shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t put out for her man. I assume you were her man?” Isabella laughed, and I marveled at how much scorn she managed to squeeze into what should have been a happy sound. “I feel for you.”

“She’s hard to get. Doesn’t just spread her legs for anyone,” Rory replied, and he nudged my side with his toe. “You are a pretty woman, Isabella, I’ll give you that much. You tempt me. You’ve seen what I can do, yet you’re offering?”

“Maybe I like playing with fire. Maybe I like the passion of a man capable of what you’ve done. Maybe I want to go home in the morning. She’s too stupid to live, but I’m not like her at all.”

Rory left me on the floor, striding to the couch in three graceful strides. When I had dated him, he had lacked polish. He had changed, shedding his rough exterior and hiding his ugliness behind a pretty face and well-made suit.

Maybe that’s how he had trapped me in the first place. When I had known him, I had always believed his outer shell made of ill-contained violence masked a better man. He had been my flame, and I had wanted to dig deeper to bring out another side of him.

Isabella was right; I was too stupid to live. The first of my mistakes had been to trust him. Putting so much faith in her had been my second.

They were perfect for each other, and I hoped when they eventually took others home with them, they felt the bitter bite of betrayal. I tried to sit up, but the pain in my chest and side flattened me, leaving me helpless on the floor. My breathing rattled, as though his foot had forced pieces of bone into my lungs.

Rory reached for Isabella, and she played him as she did every other lonely man seeking her attention for a night. It took one kiss for them to forget my presence. While they lost themselves in their passion, I found the strength and will to crawl out of the cabin despite my pain.

Night fell over the desert and stole away the sun’s heat, leaving me to freeze instead of burn. The moon was yet to rise, but a pale glimmer in the distance promised it would hang heavy in the sky soon enough. I sank to the ground, staring dully at the stars. So far from the city, their light was pure and strong, and I marveled at their vast number. The haze of the Milky Way curved from horizon to horizon.

Sharp pain stabbed through my chest, and my body trembled and twitched when I struggled to rise to my feet.

I knew I needed to get up. If I didn’t, I really would die. Tears of frustration, anger, and defeat burned my eyes. Las Vegas should have been far enough to put my father and Rory behind me. I couldn’t afford to go to the doctor to find out how badly he’d hurt me even if I did manage to make it out of the desert alive.

I could barely afford to feed myself. With Rory around, I would have to move again, assuming I found some way to escape.

My doubts weighed me down, and I stared dully at the sky. I had escaped the cabin while Isabella had spread her legs for Rory to survive. How far would she go to live?