Vengeance (Oak Grove Suspense Book 1) (20 page)

“Jacobs,” I answer without looking at the ID.

“Jacobs,” the voice snarls. I know it immediately.

“Mathis.”

“Nice of you to remember. Have you enjoyed my presents?” he asks with a cackle. I hurry inside to tell Riley to trace the call.

“Where is she?”

He laughs. “Who?”

“Shayla. Where is she?”

“Now, why would I tell you a thing like that? It would ruin all my fun,” he says with a sinister laugh. “I will say though; she is quite exquisite. I’ve never seen anyone with such … perfect skin. It’s not quite golden, but not pale either. You’d think you would have taken better care of her. Well, I suppose I’ll have to do that now, won’t I?”

“You stupid son of a bitch! Tell me where my wife is right now!” I scream.

He cackles manically. “She’s not your wife.”

“What?” I ask completely confused.

“Shayla isn’t your wife, but that makes things so much more fun for me. You really can’t live without her, can you?”

I don’t remember saying that, but that’s what I want her to be. I’ve always wanted that. I’ve totally screwed up yet again. Now he knows exactly how I feel about her. He’ll use it to his advantage.

“Where is she?” I ask again, trying to get back to what I want.

“She’s safe … for now. She’s actually cooking dinner. She’s adjusting well to being here. She may like it better here than with you. Thank you, sweetheart,” he purrs.

“Shayla!” I yell.

He laughs. “Shay, give ‘ol Foxy a kiss.”

“Don’t touch her!” I roar. I hear a kiss sound and I feel that I may throw up. “If you hurt one hair on her head, I’ll kill you.”

“Now, Ryan, that’s no way to talk to the man who holds your would-be wife in his hands.”

“What do you want?” I look over to Riley about the location of the call, but he can’t pinpoint it.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. It’s not me who wants anything with Shayla. She wasn’t my intended target. You ruined my plans for your son, but no matter. I think this works out better for me, even if I can’t kill her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to kill her, Ryan. I want her for … other things.”

He laughs as he hangs up just as Tom Thorn walks in with my son, Tyler, and Faith.

“Go to your room and don’t come out until you’re thirty!” I scream. He pales but turns and walks right back out of the door, followed by his friends and grandfather.

“Ryan, talk to me, man. What’s going on?” Marsh asks.

“We just got all the proof we need that Mathis has my girl.”

“Did she talk to you?” I shake my head no. “Then we don’t know. He could have been playing with you.”

“He wasn’t. That’s not his style. He said he wanted her. He likes how she looks.”

“She matches the description of all the women he’s killed so far, of course he likes how she looks. She’s what he looks for,” Marsh reminds me.

“This is different. He’s taken her from me. That’s what he wants. He wants to make her his so he can brag about it to me. He made her kiss him.”

“He could have had anyone do that. Until we hear Shayla’s voice and know he has her without a shadow of doubt, we need to assume he’s lying and work like he’s not.”

“I hate you,” I grumble. I really do. I hate that he’s always so calm and rational.

He smiles. “I know. Now, go over there and make things right with your boy. I’ll work on a plan for our next move.”

He’s right. I need to talk to Dylan. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say. The thought of him out there without me scares me so badly I can’t think straight. I push open the side door and find Dylan, Tyler, Faith, and Tom all sitting at the table. He’s gotten them food and drink, and is chastising them for running off.

Dylan sees me and pales. I hate that he has that reaction. “Can we talk?” I ask. He nods and stands. “Bring your food. You two stay put. I’ll call your parents.”

“Dad,” Dylan starts, but I hold up my hand.

“I can’t even begin to describe the sheer terror I felt when I learned you’d run off. I don’t even want to talk about it right now. I just want you to know, I’m sorry. I should be including you in this search so you don’t feel the need to run off. But I’ll tell you this; you don’t need to know it all. You need to trust me. I will and am doing everything I possibly can right now. Like it or not, I am your dad. I didn’t have a chance to be there for you growing up. I didn’t know you existed. I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but you were not one of them. I refuse to let you go on thinking that I don’t want you or that I don’t need you in my life. This is serious, Dylan. I need you with me on this or I won’t be able to find your mother. I can’t worry about you and search for her. Do you understand that?” I ask, finally ending my scattered thoughts.  

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I really thought they might be at the cabin we went to last summer.”

“Well, after you eat and get cleaned up, you can tell me all about it. I’m taking you to school in the morning.”

“What? Dad, no, I need to be here. I’m not safe at school.”

“You will be. I’ll be sending Paul with you.”

He makes a disgruntled noise. “Yeah, that’ll be terrific. A big military guy following me around all day. He won’t be noticeable at all.” He rolls his eyes.   

“I don’t care, Dylan. I don’t care what it looks like. You don’t need to get behind in class or miss practice. Being there will get your mind off of what’s going on here, plus I won’t have to worry about you all day.”

“I swear; I won’t run off again. Can’t we just go get my books?”

I shake my head. My cell rings and I answer it holding up a finger for him to wait. “Hello?”

“Ryan?”

“Shayla!”

Shayla

The first thing I notice upon waking is not being able to move. My head hurts. I obviously have no clue how long I’ve been out, but at least I’m alive … for now anyway. I try to open my eyes, moving as slowly as I can. Thankfully, it is pretty dark in the room and my eyes adjust easily. I can make out that the walls are aqua blue and the ceiling is white popcorn. I turn my head to the left and see a vanity and on my right is a dresser. Both look like something out of the nineteen-fifties. I look above my head to see my hands are cuffed to the metal frame of the bed. I’m trying to stay calm, but the urge to scream is growing by the second. After a few swift tugs, I know I won’t be getting free without some serious pain. My legs are tied to the foot of the bed; it’s when I look down that I realize I’m not wearing my clothes. I’m wearing a white night gown, one like I’d seen my grandma wear multiple times. Someone changed me. Someone changed my clothes! What did they do to me? Did they touch me, take pictures for themselves, or the very worst of all, did they rape me? I can’t breathe. I know hyperventilating is not in my best interest. I try desperately to control my breathing.
Slow deep breaths, Shayla. Calm. Calm.
I do this over and over, but never feel one-hundred percent calm.

The door opens and a man stands, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He laughs. “Struggling won’t get you anywhere, sweetheart.” I can’t see his face. The light behind him is too bright. “I have to say, this isn't really my style, but my cousin took a liking to you. If it were up to me, you’d be in a much … different situation.”

I still can’t see him, but I know in my gut this is Jason Mathis. I also know I’m the type of woman he would normally seek out to kill. My only saving grace right now is this cousin he’s mentioned. For some reason he wants me alive. I’m thankful for that small blessing.

Jason steps into the room, coming right up to me and staring down. He looks different from his pictures. He’s very handsome, but his blonde hair is now black and his skin is much tanner. It’s so tan that it makes him look Hispanic. He seems to be wearing contacts, because his blue eyes are now brown. Even with all these changes, I know it’s him. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t think of who that it is. I don’t really care who. I just want to go home.

“Please. Please, let me go home.”

He chuckles, running the back of his hand down my face. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t beg. I like it too much.” Tears roll down my cheek as I shake in fear. I wish I’d never seen those crime scene photos. I know what this man can do to a woman. I know the damage he can inflict. I’d suffer it to save Ryan or Dylan, though. I’d do anything for them.

He sits down in a chair beside the bed, resting his left ankle on his right knee. He rubs his beard as he stares at me. It’s unnerving. “Let’s start with introductions. I’m Jason, but you can call me Fox. That is what Ryan told you they called me, isn’t it? On the account that I’m so sneaky.” He laughs uproariously. That in itself is frightening. He’s crazy. “Did he tell you about me?” I don’t answer. I’m terrified. His eyes pinch together and his face grows red and angry. He leans towards me and in the most menacing voice I’ve ever heard says, “You will answer me. I don’t like to be ignored.” He grabs the chain wrapped around my ankle and jerks hard, causing me to cry out.

He then sits back, resuming his previous position. Steepling his fingers under his chin, he asks, “Did Ryan tell you all about me?

“Y … yes,” I stutter through my tears.

“I knew he would. I was his hardest case. He had me fooled too, but no one fools me and gets away with it. Did he tell you what he did for me?”

“No,” I whisper.

He chuckles merrily. “Ah, well. He worked for me for two years. You see, my family is one of the biggest crime families on the East coast. My father is the boss, I guess you could say, but he was training me to take over. He doesn't approve of my little hobby, though, and threatened to give my rightful position to my stupid brother. I had Ryan kill him.”

I gasp and he smiles happily. He’s trying to rile me up. “I’m sure he just did what he had to do to survive.”

He bobs his head. “I’m sure. I would have killed him if he hadn’t complied, but I didn't make him go through women like they were candy.” 

I know my face pales. Ryan and I haven’t talked about our pasts. I didn’t want to know. I knew it was possible he was with other people, but I didn’t want to think about that. “It doesn’t matter. It was before.”

“Yes, it was before. But you know, he used to talk about his high school sweetheart a lot, especially when he was drunk. She was the one that got away. He regretted giving her up, but her name wasn’t Shayla, it was Gracie. Do you know who she is?” I nod. Gracie is me; Shayla Grace. He smiles. “I know you do. Did you know that’s how I found you?” He continues to stare at me for several long moments. Tears pool in my eyes, but I try desperately to keep them at bay. “He wasn’t very smart. It wasn’t hard to find out who you were after the press revealed that Ryan Jacobs had posed as Lucas Marks to infiltrate the Mathis Mob Family. Did you know his personal tag was Marks always gets his mark? Cheesy, right? But true. He took out about twenty people. Some agents, others just because they annoyed me. Your boyfriend isn’t as innocent as you may think. He fit into our lifestyle perfectly. He never showed a bit of remorse for his actions. Even I feel a bit bad for what I do, although not bad enough to stop.”

He winks at me. My stomach rolls. I feel like I may be sick. I sob. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to know what he was forced to do as Lucas. He’s not him. Ryan would never do anything to hurt innocent people. He’s sweet and caring. He loves me and our son.

“Shut up. You don’t know him,” I say with as much muster and strength as I can manage.

He stares at me a few seconds before he laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. I admire your spunk, but your boy is dark. He doesn’t deserve you, or your son. Not that my cousin does, but he’s a good guy. He has a great job. He’ll take care of you both, and as much as it pains me to admit it, you’ll be protected by me and the family now that you’re his.” He stands, coming to sit on the bed beside me. I try to scoot over, but I can’t move much. My breathing picks up again as my fear grows. “Soon you’ll be the perfect little family. If Ryan hadn’t messed up our first attempt, Dylan would already be here with you.”

I jerk sharply as I yell, “You leave him alone!”

“Now, now. Settle yourself down. We don’t want you bruised.” He grabs me around the waist and pulls me back to the center of the bed, so my bindings aren’t cutting into my skin.  “Stay.” He runs his fingers down my cheek again. I shudder with fear. My whole body is shaking.  “It’s such a shame. Your skin is so beautiful. I told Ryan he was a lucky man.”

    “I told you not to touch her,” a very familiar voice says. “Why do you still have her tied? I said as soon as she woke to let her go so she could move around.”

“You’re a fool. She’ll run or fight you,” Mathis tells him.

He’s still standing in the bright door way. I think I know who he is, but I don’t want to admit it to myself. Why would he do something like this? My eyes squeeze shut. I’m so stupid. Of course it’s him.

“You’re not going to run are you, Shayla?” He walks over to me and I sob. I can’t believe he’s doing this. Ryan was so right about him. “You’ll do everything I say or I’ll find someone to take it out on those you love. Understand?” I nod my head. “Good.” He leans over me, releasing my hands and then my feet. I lie as still as I can, as to not anger either of them. “See. She’s good.” He holds his hand out to help me up. I reluctantly take it and he pulls me slowly upright. He sits on the bed beside me. “I’m going to give you a quick exam. I want to be sure the chloroform hasn’t affected you.”

I sit very still as he looks at my eyes and listens to my chest. I breathe as he tells me to and I don’t say a word.

“Leave us,” he tells Mathis.

“You’re an idiot,” Mathis grumbles, but leaves.

“Why are you doing this, Trevor?” I ask, barely controlling my emotions.

“I told you. Perfect pairs are hard to find. I found mine. I’m not letting you go.”

The notes! He sent the notes! I should have known. The possessive anger he showed towards me around Ryan. The off-handed things he’d say to me in passing. The way he touched me, never quite inappropriate, but not quite acceptable either.

“You sent the notes,” I say, looking down at my hands.

He lifts my chin. “Of course I did. Detective Jacobs is clueless. He doesn’t know how to treat a lady. But, I do. I’ll protect you and keep you safe. You’ll love it here. I built it for you, for us.”

He gestures to the room. I look around. This room looks like it’s straight out of the nineteen-fifties. It reminds me so much of my grandmother’s home. She loved the fifties and never changed a thing as the years went by. Why would he think this is what I want? I’m not a housewife. I’ve never been one to care a ton about cooking, cleaning, or what my house looks like. I do all those things, but Dylan is my priority.

“Do you like it?”

“I don’t understand. Why would you build this for me?”

“Because, this is where a woman should be. This is what will make her feel safe. You don’t have to work anymore. You won’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you. We’ll have a wonderful life together.”

He reaches out to stroke my face, but I jerk back and jump off the bed. I’m a little uneasy on my feet, but I go for the door. He grabs my arm, jerking me against his chest and then slams me into the door behind me. His face comes within millimeters of mine. His voice is low and angry.

“Don’t misjudge my kindness for weakness. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you do not obey me, there will be consequences. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

My body vibrates in fear and quite possibly shock. He notices. I know he does. I can see the wheels of his physician brain turning, but he ignores my symptoms. He pulls me over to a door, a closet, where he picks out a dress and hands it to me.

“Put this on. There are undergarments in the drawers. Fix your hair. I’ll be back to get you in ten minutes. You’ll need to cook us dinner.”

He slams the door closed and the lock clicks. I sink to my knees and sob, scream, and wail. I flat out lose myself in my sorrow and fear. Never in my life have I been this terrified. I have no clue what they will do to me. I know they want me alive and that might be more terrifying than death. 

~*~

I have no clue what day or time it is. They could have kept me knocked out for hours. The windows are dark, but it’s almost like they’ve been covered instead of a dark night. I feel disoriented. After I cry myself stupid, I find there is bathroom attached to the room. So I take advantage and shower quickly. I don’t want to be exposed any longer than necessary, but it does help me feel better. Now, I stand in front of the mirror, dressed in the typical 1950’s panties and bra. How in the world did my grandmother stand these ridiculously big panties or this stiff uncomfortable bra? I really want my own clothes back. I don’t want to think about them changing me. I refuse to dwell on that now. After taking several deep calming breaths, I put on the dress I was given. It reminds me of the dresses I saw on
Leave it to Beaver
. It’s a pretty blue one with small white flowers on it. It’s a little tight through the waist and chest, but at least I’m fully clothed now. I comb through my hair, but leave it straight down. I’ll wear the clothes, because I don’t want to be naked, but I refuse to wear my hair a special way for him.

“Oh, good, you found the bathroom. Fix your hair, it’s time for you to cook us our meal,” Trevor tells me.

“No,” I say, my voice holding more bravado than I feel.

He wheels around quickly, his face full of furry. “You will do what I say or you will be punished!”

“I like my hair down.”

He steps forward and I step back until I’m pressed against the wall. He hasn’t touched me, but he’s barely an inch from me. “Put your hair up, in a bun or braid. Do it now or I’ll take you across my lap and tan your hide. Am I clear?”

I blink a few times, trying to comprehend what he’s saying. I snort. “You’ll spank me? Like a child?”

I almost want to laugh. Sure, I’ve heard stories of couples being into that sort of thing, but I don’t think this is sexual at all. I think he really would beat my butt if he thought it’d get me to do what he wants.

“Yes. Like a child. I don’t want you bruised. I’m not abusive, but I will correct unwanted behavior. You’re mine now. Do. As. You. Are. Told!” He says each word slowly, deliberately. I shiver.  “Are you going to obey?”

“No.”

He growls, grabs my arm and flings me to the bed. He immediately begins undoing his belt. I jump up and run for the closet, trying to shut the door before he reaches me, but it won’t close all the way. There is something blocking the latch. I hold it to me as tightly as I can, but it doesn’t work. He rips it out of my hands before I can try to think of another plan.

He throws me stomach down onto the bed, putting his knee on my back to hold me in place. I scream and cry out for him to stop, but it seems to make him only hit me harder.  He wails on me over and over until I go limp from the pain. This isn't a spanking; it’s a beating. He's hitting anything he can reach. My back, legs, and butt are all burning with pain. Finally, after what feels like hours, but is most likely only a minute or two. He stops. His breathing is ragged and heavy. He stands and straightens his white dress shirt and puts his belt back in place. I lie there as still as possible, sobbing.