Falling for Sarah (41 page)

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Authors: Cate Beauman

BOOK: Falling for Sarah
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“How am I supposed to relax when you say things like that to me?”

“Death is just another part of life. Don’t worry, I’ll try to make it quick.”

He walked over to the closet, leaving the door ajar. She took a step forward and he turned. “Don’t try it. You’re going to make me have to punish you. Besides, I bought you something. Here, put it on.” Smiling, he pulled the flowing blue dress from the closet and handed it to her. The fabric matched the roses and her eyes exactly.

“I put some cosmetics and hair pieces in the bathroom for you, along with your favorite shampoo and soaps. I’ll be back in half an hour. I expect you to look your best.” He walked to her, lifted his fingers, skimming them along her cheekbones.

Sarah cringed at the touch of his soft skin and stepped back.

Matthew grabbed her arm, squeezing, yanking her forward. His face pinked as his breath blew out in puffs against her skin. “What, am I not good enough for you, Sarah? Am I not pretty enough for you like your stud boyfriend?”

Spit flew as he talked, landing on her face. She desperately wanted to wipe it away. The grip on her arm tightened until her fingers tingled from lack of circulation, but she didn’t struggle, didn’t speak. That was what he wanted.

His hand flew up, cracking her across her face. Sarah stumbled back in surprise as pain radiated along her cheek and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She whimpered and threw her arms up in defense as he came forward again.

“That’s what I thought, you little bitch. When I ask you a question, you answer. Now, get your ass dressed.” He walked toward the door and stopped. “I have a better idea. Maybe I’ll help you undress. I think I’d like to watch you shower. Yes, indeed, I think I would. I’ll wash your back.” He groaned and touched himself. “Do you want to feel what you do to me, Sarah?”

Her stomach churned with nausea. “No, I don’t.”

The distant buzz of a timer sounded. “Well, saved by the soufflé. I can’t have it falling. What would we have for dessert? I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Oh, and try to relax. You’re looking a little stressed out.” Chuckling, he shut the door, locking her in.

Sarah walked to the bed on trembling legs, sat down, fighting to steady her breathing. “Oh, God,” she whispered. There was no doubt in her mind he would rape her after they ate and more than likely kill her.

She tried to stand, but her knees buckled. She couldn’t stop trembling. Her cheek stung and throbbed with every heartbeat. Hopelessness consumed her and she closed her eyes. Lying back, she rested her hands on her belly. The echo of her baby’s heartbeat mixed with Kylee’s laughter. Ethan’s grinning face flashed through her mind. She couldn’t give up. Her family needed her to live.

Determined to make it through this, Sarah sat up again and walked to the bathroom. She closed the door, locking it, turned on the shower, undressed and stepped in. Washing quickly with one eye on the door and her ears tuned for footsteps, she tried to absorb the warmth and steam. She was chilled to the bone.

She turned off the faucet, toweled herself dry. She opened the small medicine cabinet and slammed it closed on a gasp as she took a step back. The products were identical and arranged just the way she had them at home. How would he have known what she bought, the way she arranged it? She rested her palms against the counter, stared at the swirls in the marble, unable to digest the gravity of his obsession. Despite the fact that she was standing in Matthew’s bathroom, held against her will, the medicine cabinet shook her to the core. He’d been in her home again, but when? How?

A loud bang from downstairs startled her back to the moment, and she checked her watch. She was running out of time. Matthew would be back in fifteen minutes. It was almost six o’clock. Surely Ethan knew something was wrong by now. Lisa would have missed her meeting. “Find me, Ethan, please find me,” she whispered.

Determined to look her best for the meal, she opened the cabinet again, pulling out the cosmetics she would need. The happier Matthew was, the less likely he was to hurt her. She shut the glass-paneled front and stared at the purple bruise covering her cheekbone, touched it gently. Wincing from the deep pain, she shook her head. There would only be more if she wasn’t ready.

Sarah twisted her hair in an elegant up-do and did her best to hide the mark on her face with concealer. After adding eyeliner and mascara to play up her eyes, she stepped into the bedroom, staring at her outfit for the evening.

The fitted, spaghetti-strap dress with a full skirt reminded her of something from a Disney movie. She took it from the hanger, pulled it over her head. She adjusted the skirt in place and reached behind her for the zipper. The fabric gaped in the back from the fullness of her belly. She sucked in, tried tugging at the zipper again, but it was no use. What was she going to do?

Sarah rushed to the bathroom, looked at herself. Panicked, she held her breath and sucked in yet again. The zipper soared up, but stopped at her heavy breasts. Yank after yank proved useless. Her stomach stuck out like a beacon, announcing her pregnancy.

Matthew knocked on the door and she braced herself. She glanced down at the counter, searching for any weapon she could find. There was nothing. Opening a drawer, she found a pair of cuticle scissors and a file with a sharp point. “Um, just give me one more second please.” Where would she put them? She looked in the mirror and inspiration struck. She pulled her hair from the twist, refastened it, replacing one of the chopsticks she’d used with the file. She pushed the metal piece deep into her mass of hair until only the small handle showed. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the difference.

“Your time’s up, Sarah. I’m coming in.”

She turned from the bathroom and walked into the bedroom as the door opened. Matthew’s smile faded quickly as his gaze traveled down her body. He stopped on her stomach and rushed forward. “You fucking whore.”

He grabbed her and she lost her balance as he threw her to the bed. He straddled her and she could do little but try to protect her face as his fist rammed forward.

“You slutty little cunt!” Matthew connected with her other cheek and she saw stars.

He yanked at her arms, shaking her until her vision blurred. “You let him fuck you. Now you’re full with his bastard.” He slapped her again, and her lip puffed immediately. “Maybe I’ll take my turn now too.” He jumped from the bed, pulled up her full skirt. “You’ve ruined it all. You’ve ruined everything.” He paced away from her, grabbed the vase, threw it. Glass, water, and blue blooms fell to the floor with a loud crash.

Sarah didn’t dare move as she sobbed quietly. The skirt of her dress lay pooled against her upper thighs. He swore at her while he trashed the room, but he wasn’t raping her. He yanked her up by the hand and blood dribbled warm against her chin from her lip. “We’re going to have our date, Sarah. Then I’ll fuck you until I get sick of it. After that, I’m going to kill you. I’m going to strangle the life from you and get a bonus when I kill the bastard’s kid. It’s a two-for-one deal.”

She struggled to keep her footing as Matthew yanked her down the stairs. He pulled her forward until they stopped in the dining room, glowing with candlelight, decorated with masses of blue roses. The elegant space would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the crazy man standing next to her. The table, set for two, with fine china and silver, somehow didn’t seem real. How could a man so full of violence and hatred create something like this? Violin music played quietly in the background, making her want to weep.

Sarah’s gaze settled on the window open to the cool breeze. The familiar smell of the ocean scented the air, along with the perfume of hundreds of blooms. She wanted nothing more than to dive through the screen, to run and scream until someone came to help her.

“Take your seat.” Matthew shoved her into her chair.

Her knee cracked against the walnut table leg. She closed her eyes against the pain, refusing to cry in front of him again. Most of her body ached; her head throbbed. All that mattered was keeping her baby safe.

He smiled at her pleasantly. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, dinner. Let me get our first course and we can begin.”

Ethan pulled up to the curb, three houses down from Ezekiel’s. The sun sunk low, reflecting against the windows of the homes up and down the street. The neighborhood was quiet except for the children laughing and playing, riding their bikes along the sidewalks, passing him by. What would their parents think when they found out they lived next to a monster?

His phone rang again and he hoped, as he had each time, that it would be Sarah calling to tell him she was okay, but the readout showed him it wasn’t and he ignored it. He did an initial scan of the house through the windshield while he waited for Austin and Hunter. Lights were ablaze throughout the first and second story. He had to fight the urge to knock down the door and get Sarah.

This was too important to rush. They would take every possible precaution. Her life was on the line, if the fucker hadn’t killed her already.

Ethan closed his eyes, shook his head. Sarah was alive. She had to be.

Battling through rage, Ethan glanced down when the phone rang again. He was tempted to let it ring. He didn’t have much to say to Detective Campbell at this point. He already knew how this conversation would go.

Hunter and Austin pulled up on the other side of the street, farther down from the house they would all be watching. Ethan threw them a stop signal with his hand and held up his phone. They both nodded.

“Detective Campbell, what can I do for you?”

“Have you found Sarah yet?”

“No, but I know where she is.”

“We do too. We just left Lisa Turnington’s hospital room. She’s been in and out of consciousness with a pretty serious head wound. Apparently Matthew Denmire hit her with a large crystal vase several hours ago at some flower warehouse. The last time she saw Sarah was at the warehouse.”

“This is all fascinating, but how the hell is that going to get her back?”

“We’re on our way with a team to his house.”

“I’m already here with Hunter and Austin.”

“Don’t get stupid, Ethan, wait for us.”

“No, I’ve waited long enough. I’m not going to let you bring some negotiator on scene so they can try to bargain with Sarah’s life. He’ll kill her and we both know it.”

He hung up and drove forward, stopping in front of Austin’s vehicle. They had less time than he wanted with the cops on the way.

Ethan stepped from the Rover, careful not to slam his door. Austin and Hunter did the same.

“We have to move. I just got off the phone with Tucker. They’re on their way, but we’re not waiting.”

“No, we’re not,” Hunter said. “Here’s my thought. You can tell me if you agree.”

He was surrounded by the best: Hunter, a former Recon Marine; Austin, a former Navy SEAL. This was their area of expertise—reconnaissance and rescue. He would do whatever they told him to.

“We’ll do a very quick up-close-and-personal and locate Sarah’s exact whereabouts within the house. Once we know, we’ll go from there.”

Austin handed out earpieces as Hunter continued.

“Austin, I want you to go in around back. It looks like the bastard has several windows open. Ethan, you go in around the side. I’ll gain access through the second story.”

Ethan took over. “We’ll use two taps against our microphones when we’re all in place. If you’ve got a shot on him, three taps and take it. Otherwise, surround and we’ll go from there. If possible, two man-tackle with the other pulling the principal from scene. Be careful with her. I don’t want the baby hurt.”

“We’ll get her, boss.”

He had to believe they would.

Chapter 30

M
ATTHEW SET A DELICATE CUP of steaming lobster bisque in front of her. The longer it took her to eat, the longer she knew she would live. Sarah smiled as Matthew took his seat. “This looks lovely, Matthew, and smells wonderful.”

He brightened. “I made it from scratch. I scoured the internet for just the right recipe.”

Sarah lifted her spoon, gestured toward her dish. “May I?”

“Please.”

She dipped the silverware into the cup, brought it to her lips. The heat against her wound stung, but she didn’t dare flinch. She sampled the cream-based broth, a little heavy on the salt, and smiled again. “Very nice. It’s delicious.”

Preening, he tasted himself. “I watched you eat it at the party Master Cooke’s parents had.”

The spoon paused halfway to her mouth before she brought it to her lips again. He’d been in the Cooke’s home. Of course he had; she remembered feeling as if someone watched her all night. “Were you a guest? You should’ve introduced yourself.”

“I wasn’t important enough to receive an invite. You have to gross over five million to make those parties.” He looked at her, temper brewing. “Or be fucking their son. That’ll get you in the door too.”

She didn’t want him to hit her again. Desperate to change the subject, Sarah zeroed in on the dishes. “Where did you buy your china? The pattern has a bit of a European flair.”

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