Salvage Her Heart (18 page)

‘What now?’ asks
Callum.

‘I don’t
know about you, but I’m hungry… and thirsty,’ I say, looking directly at Alex when I say this. ‘How about we have those sandwiches while we wait for this concrete to set?’

‘Good idea, we’ve got about two hours to waste anyhow.’ Callum walks out of the barn, leaving me to follow.

‘You’re going to regret this you know.’ Alex is seething, thick white spit forming at the sides of his mouth. I stop in my tracks, incensed by his words. I turn to face him, wanting for him to see every bit of my certitude.

‘I don’t think so.’

I leave him to worry about what we’re going to do with him next. Considering the lake is just a few meters away, he may already have his suspicions. Should he be worried?

Absolutely.

EVIE

For the first time in my life, I’m completely and truly alone. There are no overbearing parents, there is no abusive husband. There is no sweet, adorable Grayson who brings me so much comfort. There is only… me.

It’s hard to be excited about a new life, when I’m missing a part of the old, but I know it’s time to rediscover exactly who I am. It’s the simple things that have me stumped, the small decisions that are commonplace. Things like, do I like chocolate or strawberry?
Late nights or early mornings? Winter or summer? It’s like I’m a child again, discovering my own preferences and having the free will to make those choices.

So where did I end up?

Vanuatu. I’m living in Port Vila, in a lovely little bungalow near Mele Bay. I could have waited longer and taken the morning flight to New Zealand, but the bitter cold of Christchurch just wasn’t as appealing. Besides, I wanted out of the country before anyone could stop me. I needed distance between myself and the man who’d called himself my husband.

This fresh start is not something I’m taking lightly. It’s not something I would have had the strength to do without Grayson’s help. I miss him. I long for him to find me and wait patiently every day for him to blow into town and tell me he’s here to stay.

So many times I’ve been tempted to use a pay phone, to call him just to hear his voice. One thing holds me back. Alex.

I don’t want him to find me, and having no idea what’s happened since I left has me staying silent. The faith and trust Grayson has asked me to place in him is not something I’m used to,
but I believe in him, so I wait… impatiently.

When I first arrived in Port I stayed at the first hotel I came to
—too scared to venture out into the streets. I ordered all my meals in my room, thankful for the millionth time that I took enough cash with me not to leave a trail. I lived in a self-imposed exile, whiling the days away by watching in-house movies and crappy local television.

After two weeks I’d had enough. This was no kind of life. It’s funny, because time makes you complacent, it makes you disregard the fears you held not so long ago because they no longer suit your ideals. I didn’t want to live in fear. I wanted to live
—really live. Living in hotel room on my own was no better than the life I had with Alex. I didn’t want a prison, so I went looking for a place of my own.

I hired a driver to take me around the island. His name is Tomasi. He has a wife and six children that need feeding and he is pleased to have a stable job that p
ays well. We explore the island… well, I explore and he guides me. He shows me where to buy food for the right price. He helps me discover the island’s hidden treasures, making me appreciate my new-found home. Eventually I started looking for a house. He is happy to drive me around to find a place I like and feel secure in.

Mele Bay has it all; beautiful views, a cute little bungalow that I could fix up and make my own. It has a garden, too. The moment I stepped foot in the place I knew that it was somewhere I could put roots down. I signed the paperwork that day.

Tomasi and his family were my first guests to dinner, although I didn’t cook for them. His wife bought Melanesian food for us to share. I didn’t know these people, yet they welcomed me into their lives without any questions. They made me feel like family. All that was missing was Grayson.

After a couple of weeks in my new home, I’m starting to feel settled in my new life. I have a routine. Every day I wake and have breakfast on the little deck that overlooks the bay. My garden already has papaya trees which provide fruit in abundance in this tropical climate. I eat this with homemade yoghurt that the local villagers make. By the time I’ve done the dishes and showered, Tomasi arrives with his rickety old car, ready to take me to town.

Without fail, I go every day. It wasn’t just getting out of the house that was important; it was the waiting for Grayson that makes me go. In the centre square of Port Villa is a huge town clock. Every day, same time, I go and sit there for a whole hour. I wait, hoping that one day I’ll see the man who promised he’d come for me. Each day I’m disappointed. I try and swallow it gracefully, but I usually end up in tears, the let-down getting too much day after day.

Tomasi sits and waits patiently in a local coffee shop nearby, respecting my routine and never questioning why I do what I do. Afterwards I join him for coffee, letting him take my mind off things by talking about his family.

Sometimes I get him to take me around the island and discover parts of it that tourists just aren’t privy to. Other times I like to go home and potter about the house or take long walks on my own.

I’ve been living this life now for two months. Today started out like any other, except when Tomasi left me today he warned me about the monsoonal weather that is due to hit the island by early evening. After eating a light dinner, I sit out on the porch watching the clouds roll in from the ocean. There is something very therapeutic about watching a storm. I have been
so used to living inside like a caged animal, that being outside now as wild weather whips about me feels so damn
freeing
.

Palm trees start bending sideways, yet still I stay,
now soaked to the bone. My new short blonde hairdo clings to my face; my shorts and singlet stick to me like second skin. The heavens open up and rain pours harder. I can no longer see the bay across the dirt road. Not content, I run out into the open and squeal as water instantly fills my mouth and nostrils as I look to the heavens.   

I feel that the rain is washing me; cleaning me of all the years of filth that Alex subjected me to.
His touch, his mouth, his hands… none of it can hurt me anymore. It is gone. He is gone.

My bare feet squelch around in the mud, happily dancing around like a crazy woman. There is no one else outside; no one else crazy enough to be out in this weather. But I love it. This is the Evie I want to be. I want to be happy, dirty, dancing in the mud. I want knotty, tangly hair that hasn’t seen a shampoo bottle in a week. I want to be
make-up-free with my freckles on show for all to see. More than anything, I want Grayson here to share the new me.

Overcome with emotion, my hysterical laughing turns to big, wracking sobs that threaten to floor me. I’ve always tried to hold all of my emotions in
, to keep myself in check. No more. I let it out. I cry hard, falling to my knees, not caring in the slightest that the red, sloppy mud has just splashed up my thighs, staining my once-white shorts. And the rain, it still falls.

I don’t know how long I sit there, letting it all out, but I’m startled by a loud crack. At the same time, I see Tomasi’s car carefully making its way down my street, windscreen wipers going ten to the dozen. He pulls over, and seeing me on my knees in the middle of the storm, comes hurrying to my side.
Big, strong Tomasi. He’s like a bear, so huge with hands like paws. His nature is nothing but. Teddy bear more like it.

He rushes over.

‘Evie, are you hurt?’

I try to answer, but my mouth just fills with water. He scrambles to help me up, holding me under the arms and guiding me back to my front door.

He gets us inside and I suddenly see what the loud crack was. One of the palm trees at the back of the house has split and crashed through the kitchen window. We both stare in disbelief.

‘Are you okay
, Evie?’ He looks awfully worried. Heck, he should be, crazy woman like myself purposefully standing out in the middle of a big storm.

‘I’m fine, Tomasi. What are you doing here?’

‘This missus sent me over to check on you since you haven’t been in one of these storms before.’

‘That’s very kind of her, but I’m totally fine,’ I say, dripping water all over the floor. I’m creating quite a puddle on the linoleum. Tomasi is looking at me, not wholly convinced that I have all of my marbles.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m totally fine. I was just enjoying being in the rain. It doesn’t rain like this where I’m from.’

‘Really?’

‘Never.’

‘Well, if this keeps up your house will start taking on water through that back window. Let me board it up for you before I go, okay?’

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from your own family.’

‘It’s the missus’ orders, Evie.’

‘Right, well I’ll make us a cuppa while you do.’

I watch Tomasi go out the back door in his raincoat. From the window I can see him battling the wind and rain as he makes his way to the garden shed. He comes back moments later with a few planks of wood and a hammer.

‘Just stand back while I pull the tree out of the window,’ he yells through the broken glass.

‘Okay.’

As the broken trunk is removed, pieces of glass fall from the pane into the kitchen sink. In no time flat the spare bits of timber are nailed over the opening. Tomasi returns through the back door, his coat dripping from the rain.

‘Thank you. I really appreciate you fixing that for me.’

‘It’s no trouble. I’ll take you to town tomorrow if the rain stops to get a replacement.’

‘That would be great. Can I offer you tea before you go?’

‘No, I’d best get back to the missus. I’m sure there will be other people in the village who need my help. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.’

‘Please don’t rush back on my account. If the weather is bad, or you’re busy in your village, I can wait until the day after.’

‘Thank you, but I will be here.’

I watch his large frame squeeze out my front door and hurry back to his little car. I smile. I have a friend. One I made all on my own. I close the door and lock it tight. It’s time to get out of my soggy clothes. After drawing the makeshift curtains, I head to the bathroom and strip off my clothes.

The bath tub isn’t like the ones we have in Australia. It’s more like a hot tub set into the floor. It’s deep, not long. I can almost stand in it, but don’t fill it to capacity. I soak my body, calm now that I feel I’ve finally let go of my past. After my soul-bearing tears outside, I actually feel exhausted.

When my fingers and toes start to go pruney I know it’s time to get out. I dress in a long tee and panties, the weather still warm despite the rain. After pouring myself a cup of tea, I head to bed.

I love my bed. I found a second hand four poster at a recyclers shop. It came from a hotel that was doing an upgrade of its décor. For fifty dollars
, I reckon I got a bargain. It even has sheer white netting around it that protects from mosquitoes, although it looks more like something Snow White would sleep in. Now all I need is my prince.

As I lie down and listen to the rain pounding on the roof of my bungalow, I know that somewhere Grayson is thinking about me. I touch my lips, remembering how soft his lips were when they kissed me. More than anything, I wish he was here. All I can think about is the magical way we made love, the way he touched me, the way he smelt. He stared deep into my soul as we connected, knowing that it would only make me want him more.

Falling asleep alone only makes me realise that I adore Grayson so much. He’s not a crush. He’s not a fad. He’s the man I want to grow old and grey with. Now, finally, I know.

I know what it’s like to find your soul mate.

Everyone else I’ve ever had a crush on has just been a dress rehearsal for the real thing.

ALEX

I didn’t think it would happen. I never thought I’d succumb. But like all the other weak, snivelling, pitiful people in the world, I’ve joined the club. I’m broken. That’s what we do to survive, right? We break, we bend, we mould to the person who wants our will to be theirs. It disgusts me to think that these arseholes have made me submit, but when push comes to shove, when it’s my life or their demands, I had to make a choice. And let me tell you, I want to live.

My feet in concrete casts?
Fuck me, if that didn’t scare the shit out of me then the winch attached to the boat sure did. These guys were not here to mess around. The torture was slow. Hell, you deprive a person of food and niceties for a few days and he’s going to start begging. The only problem is they want to be convinced. They want to know for sure that you’re not going to change your mind once you return to your life of privilege. Every single thing you promised needs to be assured.

So how was I convinced? They half-drowned me several times until I offered them security. You heard me
. I sold myself out. Don’t pretend you’d do otherwise. The only person who I’d doubt would bend to another’s will despite the circumstances is Stavros. Now I have to face him, unable to deliver on our deal. In hindsight he could be the worse of the two evils. He’s unpredictable. No, that’s not true. He can be predicted to be very mean and cruel. Just how much, I’m yet to find out.

I know you’re wondering
… how’d it play out, right?

Once my feet were set solid in the buckets of concrete, they dragged me towards the boat. I thought they were going to put me inside. That was until they attached some sort of framework to the sides of the boat. It was weighted down on one side, with a winch on the other.

The guy they call Callum attached a vest to my chest, binding my arms behind me. I looked up to see a huge hook attached to winch. It reminded me of the Peter Pan stories. Only this wasn’t Neverland and there would be no happy ending.

They attached the hook to the rear of the vest. They left me standing on the barn floor, feet set solid, affixed to their contraption. There is no way I could easily lift my legs; they certainly weighed too much to make a run for it.

I watched on in horror as they opened the barn doors, revealing the expanse of the lake on the other side. Both ignored me as they hopped aboard and started the motor boat’s engine. Over the noise of the exhaust, I didn’t hear the whine of the winch as it started to recoil the steel cable. It was only as I started lifting off the floor that I started to worry. I worried some more when my kneecaps felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets as the concrete weighted my legs down and my body rose into the air.

Grayson looked relaxed, the fury I’d seen on his face earlier long gone. Damn, I’d eve
n say he looked…
happy
. 

The boat startled forward as it was put into gear. We made slow progress until we reached the centre of the lake
. Was this a dam? Where in the hell were we?

There was nothing around us but trees and more trees. A few cabins dotted the terrain, but I was certain nobody was currently occupying them. I’m sure they weren’t stupid enough to be out in the open if there was even a remote chance that we’d be having visitors. It was just them, and me.

When we reached the middle, Callum cut the engine while Grayson dropped the anchor. Anybody drops an anchor on a boat, let me tell you people, you’re not in for a short stay. Expect the long haul.

I screamed, as loud as I could and certainly much louder than I thought was possible. Callum and Grayson watched on in amusement, letting me tire
myself out. They knew. There was no one coming to help me, despite my shouts echoing far into the distance.

When they were satisfied I was finished, they started in with their task of wearing me down. They released the winch, allowing me to slip further and further below the surface of the cool water. I understood what the concrete feet were for. If the cable snapped or they released the hook holding me, I was a goner. Death by drowning
—I can’t say it was on my top ten favourite ways to die.

They did this over and over and over again. By day three I was willing to deal. Sunburn, hypothermia and dehydration were all encouraging motivators. I, Alex, have a weakness. I like myself too much to disappear off the face of the earth.

So, what did I offer other than my word? The tapes and the contract. Yes, yes, I was stupid enough to get Stavros to tape some of my more memorable moments with his girls in Chicago, yet I was planning on using them as my own personal pornographic collection. Instead I’m using them to barter with my life.

And, then there’s the matter of my contract with Evie. I offered that up
, too. Now they have very indictable evidence against me which could bring charges of rape, battery and assault. Not charges I’m wishing to face in court, let me tell you. Fuck, who knows where Stavros got some of his girls from. I’m sure they could add other things like slavery, imprisonment and kidnapping to boot. And American jails are not exactly the Hilton when compared to the Australian facilities.

Like many others before me, I did what I had to in order to survive. They finally cut me loose. Getting those concrete shoes off was no picnic. They dropped me off at the ER at the Royal Brisbane Hospital. Some sceptical doctor managed to remove them while Grayson and his eager friend went back to my apartment to retrieve their blackmail paraphernalia from my suitcase. The doc was going to call the cops, but I convinced him it was just some bachelor party prank gone wrong. Can’t say he rightfully believed me.

I got home to find everything gone. The place was ransacked. The bastards took my passport as well, which unfortunately for me meant there would be no hiding out in some off-shore sanctuary for the likes of tax evaders and professional crims.

That wouldn’t have been so bad except I knew it would only be a matter of time before Stavros came to collect. I waited, hoping that somehow the mess would all just go away, but in reality, time to pay up was overdue.

The call to Stavros didn’t go as I’d expected. He almost seemed… understanding. Although I have to be honest, if some prick came to me with a story like I did, there’s no way on earth I would have believed him, let alone empathised. Perhaps that’s where I should have clued in, but I chose to remain in ignorant bliss.

The second trigger to things being amiss should have been when Stavros asked about my passport. My telling him it was missing only allowed him to be prepared, and there’s nothing worse than a mind like Stavros’s being prepared. It makes him dangerous. Yes, more dangerous than even I anticipated.

Today he flies into Brisbane. I’m to meet him at the airport to discuss our business arrangement. His refusal to come to my apartment hasn’t triggered any red flags, because to be honest, if he’d been unable to fulfil our deal like I just had then I wouldn’t want to show any weakness by going to him. The only reason he’s flown here is because it would’ve taken too long for me to get another passport.

I take a taxi to the International building and proceed through security clearance into the departure’s lounge. I wait, as instructed, at the Mile High Coffee Bar. My espresso is weak and bitter, a mean feat in today’s society of aficionado coffee drinkers. It pisses me off that the minute you cross that invisible barrier between society and airport you’re always guaranteed crap meals and beverages. The same, of course, can be said for the meals served in-flight.

Bitter coffee or not, I still sip it to pass the time, waiting for Stavros to disembark for our meeting. You can bet I’m shocked as all get up when two big burly men in suits approach my table. I eyeball them, daring them to challenge me. It doesn’t take much for this newly character-adjusted Alex to bend to their demands.

‘Stavros requests your presence,’ says one of them. Are you kidding me? These guys could be twins.
Dumb and dumber springs to mind.

‘Stavros informed me he would be meeting me at the airport,’ I reply haughtily, as though I really hold all the cards here. One of them gestures with a sweeping arm at the expanse of glass that shows off the runway outside.

‘And here we are.’

‘Fine,’ I snap, getting up to follow them.

They lead me away from the bustling crowds of travellers towards the far end of the terminal. There is a private gate entry only manned by a single attendant. She lets me pass with a brief glance at the documents on her table. I’m not worried, just mildly curious.

‘He’s still on the plane?’ I enquire. They don’t answer, they just keep walking
—one in front, one in the back.

We come to the end of the walkway where the plane door connects to the movable stairs. It’s open, waiting for us to board. Stavros’s private plane is not like commercial flights. There are no rows of cattle-class seats. There are no communal toilet facilities. This plane is decked out fit for a king, or at the very least, a president.

I’m led through its interior, past stately rooms and a glitzy dining area. We pass through drawn curtains in the rear of the plane. There are two first-class seats facing each other, a retractable table between the two of them. They have those doilies on the head rests like normal commercial flights do. Stavros occupies one of the chairs, the one with its back to me.

The burly guards usher me towards the vacant seat, and I sit, somewhat unceremoniously.

‘Ah, Alex, so good of you to join me.’

‘Stavros, I
—’

‘I don’t need your excuses or apologies, Alex. I think for the most part you’ve done a very dismal job of explaining your fuck-up to me over the telephone. What begs to be seen is just what you’re going to do about it.’

‘Well, I…’

Apparently I haven’t given this too much thought. I mean really, what
can I offer to a man who has everything.

‘Just what I thought.
So you lose my merchandise, being Evie of course, and I’m expected to go without?’

‘No, that’s not what I
—’

‘Silence,’ he imparts quietly, before taking a deep swig of the amber liquid on the table before him. ‘You need to pay up, Alex.’

‘I’ll refund you your money.’

‘I’d expect nothing less. I’m more curious to know just what you’re going to do about the girl.’

‘I could find you another.’

‘Impossible task,’ he dismisses me, ‘
You know, I’ve been thinking of an alternative.’

He eyes me carefully, which makes me instantly uncomfortable. Something in his look sends chills down my spine. I look towards the beefy guys blocking my exit through the curtains and suddenly I realise, albeit a little too late. I try anyway.

Lunging from my seat, I jump up from my chair, suddenly desperate to get off this plane. I’m forced back into my seat by Stavros while his two bodyguards secure my wrists to the plush chair. Next are my ankles, secured to the metal foundations that are bolted to the cabin floor. I’m not going anywhere. Well, not anywhere Stavros doesn’t want me to be.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I demand, completely out of breath.

‘Collecting my dues.’

‘I’m not your fucking toy, Stavros.’

‘I beg you to reconsider.’

‘Or what?’

‘Well, let’s just say from our recent conversations that I know you’re particularly fond of living.’

‘Are you threatening me now?’ I screech.

‘Not at all, dear friend. I’m giving you options.’

‘Sounds like a lose
/lose situation to me.’

‘Look at it as a chance for rediscovering yourself.’

‘Hardly seems fair,’ I scoff.

Somewhere in the cabin I can hear the whir of motor mechanics and the whoosh of doors as they’re being closed. Panic overrides all attempts at staunch bravery. Stavros watches on, amused as I writhe and wriggle in my seat, attempting to break free of the chains he has me in.
Prisoner.

The two men leave us alone to face off. Clearly Stavros has the upper hand, but I’m hoping to convince him otherwise.

‘I can’t leave the country, I don’t have a passport,’ I smirk.

‘Oh, you mean this one?’ He flashes me an American passport. It looks brand spanking new, as it should since it was only made recently. Inside displays the photograph the Australian government kept on file from when I submitted my application for my passport here some two years ago. Obviously whoever has produced this fake has hacked into our systems. The name on the document is not mine
, though.

‘Declan Childs?’

‘Yes, your new name, do you like it?’ Stavros sneers.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!’

‘I’ve never been rather fond of jokes.’

‘Well this has to be because there is no way in hell this is happening.’

The cabin moves, just a little jerk forward. My eyes widen as I look out the aeroplane window. We’re actually moving. I keep telling myself this can’t really be happening, that I haven’t actually woken up yet. This meeting hasn’t yet taken place—it’s just a vicious manipulation of my mind worrying about all the things that could go wrong today.