Irrevocably Mine (Imagine Ink Book 3) (19 page)

A voice that formed ice shards in her bloodstream answered her unspoken question, “Looking for this, sweetheart?”

Hank.

Straightening to her full five-foot-four height in her heeled boots, she stiffened her spine. She didn’t want to turn around and look the man in the eyes, but she needed to, so she did it slowly.

When their eyes collided, something shifted inside of her—something feral and a long time in the making. He was swinging her gun from his index finger. Stacy took a step in his direction, and he quickly pointed the gun at her.
My own fucking gun
. “Now, now, sweetheart, you just plant that pretty ass of yours on the bed and don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will, if you make me.”

Stacy’s defiant streak awakened from a too-long slumber. Roused by his empty threats and attempt to control her, yet again, she crossed her arms over her chest and adopted an air of superiority. Hank didn’t need to know she crossed her arms because of him. She wasn’t wearing her fake tit and, somehow, his words still stung after all this time. “Oh yeah, you and what army? Do you even know how to use that thing? For more than a club, I mean?”

Hank rushed her, grabbing her by the throat and pressing the gun against her forehead. This was not the same Hank she knew. This one was unstable, at best, and violent. And he was apparently willing to get his hands dirty now. The fear that had crept into her at hearing his voice now enveloped her. She was unsure how to deal with him like this. He was a wild card.
A wild card with my only means of protection
. She lowered herself to the bed, choking on his hand all the way down.

“That’s more like it, babe.” His hand moved from her neck to caress her cheek. The soft touch was in direct juxtaposition to the barrel still buried in her forehead. A bruise was already forming, she was sure of it. Her throat worked overtime, swallowing bile to keep from puking. Stacy complied, but couldn’t bring herself to play his game. Her eyes saw what was happening, but her brain didn’t comprehend it fast enough to pull away.

Hanks lips crushed hers, teeth colliding. The barrel’s assault lessened for the first time, but she was under no illusion he couldn’t still shoot her anytime he wanted. Still in shock from his kiss, Stacy didn’t fight back.
That was a mistake.

By the time her brain caught up to real time, and forced her hands into action, she was already on her back with Hank on top of her, grinding into her hip like there was no tomorrow, groping her good breast with no finesse, the same as his tongue entering her mouth, sloppily. It was like by rote to him, he damn sure wasn’t doing it to turn her on, but rather to prepare himself. That thought chilled her to the bone. When his hand shifted to the other side—the one he never touched—he slowed his assault, allowing her to push his upper body away enough to end the disgusting kiss.

She felt the gun tap her temple almost gently as he spoke, “Why were you out like this?” Hank squeezed her flat side. “You know no man wants to see that. But then again, you haven’t stuck with any man since me, have you, sweetheart?” He swooped in for a quick, controlling kiss, not allowing her to answer. “Miss me that much, do you?” She felt his hand tracking south toward her too-short skirt and tried to buck him off. “Ooo, eager beaver, are we? Of course, you miss this dick. You never could get enough. Well, babe, I can fix that right now, just tell me how much you want it, and it’s yours.” Hank punctuated every statement with a roll of his hips and a nauseating moan.

“Want you? Want…you? I’d rather masturbate with a chainsaw that ever let you touch me again.”
Wrong thing to say, Stacy.
That realization came a moment too late as he pushed up from her using the hand at her chest, holding his body weight up on it alone and effectively forcing the air from her and not allowing any more to enter to replace it. The gun was back to being buried in her forehead, leaving yet another bruise. Good thing she was growing her hair out and would have the bangs to cover them.

“Really? If I were in your position, I would consider being nicer to the man that holds your life in his hands. But then again, you never were any good in the bedroom, maybe I should have met you in the living room to see if you wouldn’t be such a bitch out there.” A maniacal laugh cut through the air, and Stacy knew she was in trouble. He was bat crap fucking crazy, and that would be impossible to reason with, even with her skill. Stacy had no choice but to play along, biding her time and waiting for an opportunity to get a weapon and fight back. But she refused to be intimate with him in any way, even to save herself. Rapidly going through the catalogue of their relationship, she hit on the perfect way to stall that part of his plan, at least.

“Hank,” she tried to say an endearment, but it locked in her throat, “I’m sorry, but you know how bitchy I get when it’s that time for me.” Stacy looked pointedly at her crotch and back into the eyes of a mad man. When Hank finally realized what she was talking about, he made a sound of disgust and scrambled off her so fast, he almost ended up on his ass.

“Gross, you should’ve warned me.”
Yeah, sure. Next time you’re about to rape me, I’ll make sure to give you full disclosure. Asshole.
“Well, since
that
will have to wait a few days, assuming your cycle is still short?” Denial was poised on her lips, but his expression told her it was best to appease him. Besides, she didn’t need a few days, just a little time to think.

“Of course, they are. You always did know me so well.”
Not well enough to know it’s not even close to time, douchebag.
Even that small intimacy cost her a piece of her soul, but she knew it was best to go along. At least now there was no way he would touch her sexually, the rest she could handle.

It worked, a little too well. Hank approached her once more and caressed her cheek in an almost loving manner. “Of course, I know you, I’ve done absolutely nothing but think about you every single minute I was caged like an animal. If it weren’t so filthy and wrong, I’d take you anyway. But…where are your handcuffs, darling? I know you still have them, you couldn’t live without them. I always hated that side of you, but it will come in handy…for now.” And just like that, the crazy Hank took over fake “loving” Hank, and the gun was in her face. “Where are they?”

“You don’t need them, Hank. Where am I going to go? The nearest neighbor is across the street at an angle, you saw that, I’m sure. By the time I got there in these heels, it’d be too late.”

“I’m not stupid, bitch, you could make a call before I could stop you. Wh…”

Stacy was pissed now. He changed directions so fast, she was getting whiplash. She’d had a shitty day and she needed Dax. “Did you see me come in with a phone, genius? Did you see one anywhere in the house? I’m sure you searched high and low waiting on me. I don’t have a landline and my stupid brother accidentally took my phone with him last time he was here. Go ahead and look around if you don’t believe me, but why bother. You know I understand the position I’m in, or do you think I got that stupid since you went away?”

“You mean since you put me away. You broke my heart, you know that?”

Stacy bit her tongue so hard it bled. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t responsible for his actions and it wasn’t her who had done any of the breaking.
She
didn’t break his heart or trust.
She
didn’t break into his house. The look in his eyes held her silent. She knew the truth and that is what mattered, you can’t get through to crazy, so why try.

“The fact remains, you are in charge and have complete control without restraints.”

His ego properly stroked, he backed off and forgot about manual restraints. Of course, his alternative wasn’t much better.

Unexpectedly, he forced a pill down her throat and held her nose until she swallowed. She silently prayed it wouldn’t kill her, but with this Hank, she wasn’t sure what he was capable of. Her fear must’ve been apparent.

“Relax already, it was just a sleeping pill, nothing you haven’t had before. I’m fucking tired as shit, and I can’t have you running off to the neighbor’s, no matter how far you seem to think it is. If you try anything, I’ll handcuff you to bed, got it?”

As much as it galled her to comply, she had no choice. The pill would hit her in no time and she couldn’t stumble across the street in spiked heels and groggy. Plus, her worry for Ms. Miller kept her compliant. She wouldn’t jeopardize the old lady’s life by running to her and she was her only neighbor for a quarter of a mile.
Hmm, I wonder how Hank got passed old eagle-eyes, anyway? She probably just thinks I’m a slut.
These were the thoughts that swam in her fuzzy head as the pill kicked in. For someone who could down tequila like a champ, her body couldn’t process narcotics very well at all.

Feeling Hank slip into the bed behind her and spoon nauseated her, but she was too far gone to offer any resistance.

D
ax checked
his messages as soon as he got on the plane, which, in hindsight, he shouldn’t have done so early. The entire flight was spent in a state of confusion and heartbreak. Two message, that was it. One from Walker, saying he and Erika were heading to Panama City Beach for the weekend and inviting him and Stacy to tag along. And one from Stacy.
Dax, it’s me. We need to talk. I mean, I’ve got shit to tell you. It’s important. John has my phone, long story, so come by my place when you get this. I’m calling…shit. It doesn’t matter, I can’t say it over the phone, just come by.

That was it. No indication what or why, just that.
Zena’s damned leather bustier, Stacy’s flustered, and she’s never flustered.
Does that mean she’s decided I’m not what she wants?
Dax let his gaze drift to Macy. That
we’re
not what she wants? If it were good news, Dax believed she would’ve just said so. Stacy was as blunt as they come. The only reason his mind could come up with why she wouldn’t say it in a message was if she wanted to let him down gently and give him the whole
it’s not you, it’s me
spiel. Screw that, he only needed a yes or no from her. Dax didn’t need her pretty words or excuses; he just needed to know where they stood.

“Hey, Bug, I think it’s best if I meet with Stacy alone first. You know, since we aren’t technically together yet. No pressure, you know?”

His beautiful daughter couldn’t hide her thoughts from flashing across her face. Dax witnessed her reading between the lines and knew the moment understanding clicked and sympathy took over. He hated it, but it was for the best. “Of course, Dad, I get it. Mom was the same way, you know? Tom was the first boyfriend I ever met. So yes, I understand, but I do want to meet her soon. She holds your heart and, well, I don’t think that will change.”

Macy stunned him yet again with her maturity and insight. He was a mess the rest of the flight. Over and over, he replayed the voicemail in his mind, memorizing every single word and inflection. He was driving himself crazy by the time they landed. It was a very ambiguous message and he still couldn’t get a handle on it as he drove Macy home.

Macy.

Home.

Even with his brain running a hundred miles per hour, those two words buoyed his flagging spirit. He took great pride in showing his Bug around. Her interest in his forge and art not only felt amazing, it bound them. Already, she asked if he could teach her smithing and carving. She seemed fascinated with their shared artistic streak.

“Sure, Bug, I would be honored to teach you.” To him, it was nothing more than giving her a new medium, a new outlet to express herself. To her, it seemed like it meant the world.

“Mom encouraged my drawing, but she never understood it. She saw drawing as just…drawing.”
Ah
, Dax could relate. Drawing to her was like woodwork to him. It spoke to her in a voice only she could hear, and the drawings created were so much more than pencil marks on paper that looked pleasing. Yes, Dax got it, and he would encourage her in every way possible, because her art was a part of her soul, and that should never be minimized.

“Come back inside, I want to show you something.” On the way inside, he explained to her how the wood spoke to him, how the material itself created his pieces, he was just a tool.

When Dax opened his bedroom door, a familiar scent hit him, one that wasn’t there before he left, but one that soothed his aching heart.
Orchid and amber. Stacy.
She had to have been here recently, maybe she called from here.
If she was here…she saw the bed and tables together…
that’s it!
That’s why she’s not giving them a chance.
She saw all this and freaked out.
This is exactly why he didn’t show her already, why he made sure his room stayed dark the other night, he feared she would bolt. Well, it was clear now, but he would still hear it from her lips before he tucked tail and ran.

Macy’s cries of awe broke through the sound of his heart shattering. “Oh, my God, Daddy, this is…just, wow.” She excitedly pointed at the headboard. “That’s Odin!” She ran to the table and checked out the one carved for Stacy. “And, that, that’s Syn, I believe. The doorway with the scales is the giveaway.” Before Dax could confirm her suspicion, she was already around the bed looking at his table. “Now this one is tougher. This is either Tyr or Ve?” Dax was impressed, to say the least. Her knowledge of Norse mythology rivaled his own.