Heartwood (33 page)

“I’ve got
your
heartwood right here.”

Now, shivering on the cold wood floor of a dilapidated farmhouse, I stared down at the titanium band. I felt my heart leap. The band edge was thinner than a gold band would have been. Now I just had to get it off over my swollen finger.

This was going to hurt.

Knowing I had no time to dick around, I bit into the side of the mattress to muffle the scream that threatened to escape me. It hurt more than I expected, but I forced it off anyway. Tears sprang to my eyes, but it came off of my abused finger. The engagement ring never moved, but my titanium band was a hair bigger, since they were nearly impossible to size.

I gasped greedily, pulling air into my lungs as if I might drown in the agony. When it subsided a minute later, I turned the ring over in my hand.

“Good call, Joe.” I croaked.

I set my jaw, and got back to the task at hand. Inching under the bed, I held the ring unsteadily in my right hand. Focusing, I worked to fit the band into the notch of the large bolt. After three tries I finally managed to line up my shaking hand with the groove. It fit perfectly. I closed my eyes and stifled a victorious sob.

Thank you, God. If you’re listening up there, thank you.

Apparently God was tuned in to Molly radio, because Draven didn’t come into the room while I spent what seemed like hours working the screw. I dropped the ring twice, and one time it almost rolled all the way to the grate in the floor. In the last few seconds, I could hear him moving around on the lower level, and I thought I might choke on my heart which seemed to be blocking my windpipe. The screw finally came out of the hole, separating the leg from the rest of the bedframe.

As it came off in my hand, the bed shifted and I scrambled to grab it. My hand closed on the frame just before it would have thudded into the floor. I sat frozen for a minute, listening to see if I had made too much noise.

Thunder rumbled nearby and I realized a storm must be brewing outside. I prayed that it was enough to cover the sounds I was making. I started counting in my head. Other than intermittent thunder, it was quiet for over two minutes. Then I heard the TV switch on, and I exhaled.

Setting my teeth, I forced my scratched up ring back on my finger. I did my best to be quiet, ignoring the sharp pain that accompanied the action. It had to be done. There was no way I was leaving this house without it, and I needed Joe with me for what was about to go down, in spirit at least.

Climbing awkwardly to my feet, I inched over to the spot beside the door. Leaning back against the wall I waited. Time seemed to drag out endlessly. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard Logan start to fuss in the room next door. Then I heard Draven’s footfalls on the stairs. I stood off to the side, the heavy bar held in both hands as if it were a baseball bat and I was waiting for a pitch.

Swing away
, I thought and came perilously close to cackling deliriously. Draven paused in the hallway and my mind raced.

Had he heard me? Was he going to hurt Logan?

He walked to my door and I heard him hitting numbers on the pad. The door swung open and he walked in, fixedly looking down at his cell phone. I could not have asked for a better target. Swinging as hard as I could, I felt the leg reverberate in my hands as I connected with Draven’s mouth, knocking out several teeth.

Falling to his knees, he dropped his cell phone which broke apart when it hit the floor. Pulling his hands up to his face he groaned and I swung again, this time taking him in the back of the skull. The blow knocked him flat onto his face. Another groan escaped him and I pulled back and thwacked him again, this time in the back. I swung the leg a couple more times until he no longer made any noise.

Logan was screaming from across the hall now and I turned to go get my baby. I had taken two steps when I wheeled and returned to Draven. Kicking him hard in the face got no reaction. For good measure, I hit him with the leg one more time before I turned back to the next obstacle between me and my baby.

Reaching the door, I called out in attempt to comfort him.

“Logan, baby. Mommy’s here. Don’t worry. I will be in there in just a second.” His cries didn’t diminish, if anything they got louder. Now, afraid that Draven might have done something horrible to him, I tried punching numbers into the lock. I knew it was six digits. Each door had sounded different, but all of them had a six digit long code.

First, I tried our anniversary. Nothing. Next, I tried the day I had left him. Then the day we opened the restaurant. When that didn’t work I tried my birthday. I was starting to wonder if I had just doomed Logan to a slow death. Maybe he would have been better off with Draven as a father than to die of dehydration in a ramshackle house in the boonies.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I started punching the numbers.

Number, Number, Number.

When the lock clicked open, I couldn’t help but marvel at the ego of the man. The combination he had chosen to lock his would-be son in with? His own birthday.

Pushing the door open, I rushed to Logan’s side. Pulling him into my arms, I saw that he was wet through his clothes. He had been for some time. Stopping to grab a diaper I changed him quickly, and applied lots of powder. Picking him up, I turned to find my way out of the hell hole. I clutched Logan to me and made for the stairs.

Once in the doorway, I jerked to a stop. Blocking my escape was a bloody demon. Draven was now short a few teeth. Blood oozed from multiple wounds in his head. His boyish good looks were gone and the abomination standing between me and freedom finally did the creatures lurking inside Draven’s mind justice. Terror ripped through me as I clutched Logan to my chest.

“You’re gonna die, bitch.” Cold Draven said. Wiping blood from one of his eyes he flicked it contemptuously toward me. “No more games. No more talking. You’re going to die right fucking now.”

He moved into the room carefully, leaving me no opening to rush past him.

I slowly backed up, letting my eyes go left and right. I let the panic I felt show on my face and slumped my shoulders a bit. He gave a bitter laugh and pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket. It was a familiar move. Draven hated to have anything on his face. I had seen him perform the same task multiple times when caught in the rain. He was about to wipe off his face.

Feigning defeat, I waited for him to raise his hand. In the instant his vision was obscured, I brushed past him and out of the room in a move that would have made a professional linebacker proud. In the hallway, I had three options: my room, Draven’s room or beyond that, down the stairs.

His roar of anger sounded behind me as I turned toward the stairs. I kept both hands around Logan and braced for him to kick me. If I could keep my legs under me down the stairs, I could take a chance with blocking off a room and getting out a window.

Two steps before the staircase his hand closed on my hair jerking me back. Pain exploded in my scalp and neck. Instead of pulling straight back, he swung me by the hair and threw me across the room. I connected painfully with a doorjamb and instinctively wrapped around Logan to protect him.

I looked up to see Draven stalking toward me. Looking around, I saw he had flung me by the hair into his bedroom.

“You can’t get away from me, slut. One thing is painfully obvious,” he said gesturing to his face. “You are never going to be properly trained. No more chances. It’s time for you to take what’s coming to you.”

He raised his hands up and I shielded Logan with my body and feebly raised an arm to fend off the coming blow. I might as well have been trying to block a truck. His fist connected with my already damaged face causing me to black out for a second. The sensation of Logan being pulled from my arms brought me to sickening consciousness.

Draven pulled him from my arms and tossed him nonchalantly aside. It was obvious that he didn’t care anymore for his replacement son than he had for anyone else in his life. It was only blind luck, or something more divine, that put the padded chair in Logan’s trajectory. My baby boy bounced onto the cushion and gave a lusty cry.

At that moment, something deep inside me snapped. Everything Draven had ever done to me culminated...the fear, loathing, hatred and shame now banded together with the rage of a mother. I came off of that floor and leapt atop him like a jungle cat.

Ripping his face with my nails, I sought to pull his eyes out of his head. When he whipped his face away from my hands I jackknifed my body forward and sank my teeth into the sensitive flesh of his cheek. With a roar of rage, he whipped our bodies around and slammed me into the wall. The entire room shook when he did it and plaster fell from the ceiling. Swinging around, he jumped and landed with me between him and the floor.

The breath was blasted from my lungs and for a moment it was all I could do to try and pull oxygen in. Draven pulled himself up on one elbow then captured both of my hands in his. Ripping my arms above my head, he pinned them there with one hand. Reaching down with his other he ripped out the crotch of my panties in one single motion.

“Bitch, you’ve been one giant mistake. The only thing you were ever good for was a decent fuck. So I am going to fuck you, then I am going to strangle you and watch the life vanish from those pretty eyes.”

“So you’re a rapist now? You pathetic bastard!” I managed to spit half-heartedly in his face.

He wiped it off on what was left of my shirt, never releasing my arms.

“You want it, Molly. You want it bad. You always did. You’re going to beg me to fuck you. Harder. Faster. And you’re going to make me a believer. Because if you don’t I might just decide to leave that baby behind when I go. And it would be a shame for him to die in the fire with you.”

I glared up at him and realized I was out of moves. Physically, I had nothing left. He had me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. And he knew it, too. Reaching down with his free hand, he yanked at his belt. Just then, a loud crash rang out. It sounded like lightning had hit the house. A reverberating boom, which I felt through the cold wood I was pinned to, sounded through the house.

For an instant, I wondered if the place was on fire from the strike, then I heard something I’d given up hope of ever hearing again. Joe’s voice.

“Molly!” His animalistic howl carried equal parts rage and fear.

Draven looked up and sneered. He slid off me as he snaked his hand into my hair and pulled me toward the bed.

This is your play? Joe’s here and you are going to try and take me before he can get up the stairs?

I realized too late that his goal wasn’t the bed, it was the bedside table. Ripping the drawer open, he pulled out a silver gun. It was the kind with the round cylinder that held bullets. As he took it from the drawer, I found my voice.

“Joe! Be careful! He has a gun!” Draven smacked the gun against the injured side of my face, effectively shutting me up. Groaning, I almost fell to my knees, but he viscously yanked on my hair keeping me on my feet. Putting the barrel of the gun under my chin he waited.

The doorway was suddenly filled by the hulking figure of Joe. I had once thought that Joe was scary when he was mad. I now realize that I had no idea exactly how elementally terrifying Joe can be when he is truly enraged. His green eyes were wild in the flashing lightening, and he seemed to puff up in size. Whatever plan Draven had been concocting with me as a hostage went out the window as Joe appeared. The gun seemed to turn in his direction of its own volition as Joe leapt forward and spat fire. Three rounds in rapid succession hit Joe in the chest.

Before my unbelieving eyes, I saw the man I love crumple and fall to his knees before me. His hands went to his chest and he doubled over until his forehead was nearly touching the floor. Draven took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Well,” Cold Draven said. “That almost got complicated. Luckily, Neanderthal here is all brawn and no brains. What a moron. You told him I had a gun. So he runs up here and hopes true love is going to save you?” Dragging me back against him he ground his erection against my ass.

“I hope you rot in hell, Draven.” Tears blurred my already limited vision and I wished that Draven had just killed me on the street. At least Joe and the kids would have been okay.

“You first, Doll. Now where were we? Oh yes...I was going to fuck you and you were going to beg for it. Or I could just cap the baby now? He and daddy can play together in Heaven...”

Movement from in front of us caught his attention, stealing his voice. Joe, impossibly, was pulling himself to standing. Rage radiated out from him like waves of heat. Draven pulled the gun up toward Joe and things seemed to go into slow motion.

Joe leapt forward with a primal cry ripping from his throat. The gun came up just as Joe’s fist connected with Draven’s head. There was a crack, like a baseball hitting a bat, and then the gun went off. Draven flew back, jerking away from me as his hand went slack in my hair. Joe’s momentum carried him past me after Draven.

When Draven hit the window, it was like the entire wall came apart. Rotten wood blasted outward as the window and a good part of the wall broke loose. Draven, his head flopping boneless on his shoulders, disappeared into the dark.

Joe stopped at the edge of the gaping hole. Swaying back and forth he slowly turned toward me. He seemed fine, until he turned fully around and I saw the right side of his face was covered in blood.

“Molly?” He seemed unable to focus on me for a second. Then his eyes locked on mine and he smiled. For an instant, we stared at each other. His eyes fluttered and rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor. Bouncing off the wood, Joe started sliding out the hole into the storm.

Leaping forward, I grabbed his leg, just as he was falling back. Digging my feet into what was left of the wall, I fought to hold him in place. Insanely, I started screaming for help. My nails dug into his clothing as I felt him start to slip through my grasp. An inch, then a few inches. It became clear to me that if I held on too much longer I was going to go out the window with him.