Scarred (Lost Series Book 2) (16 page)

I got to do what I hadn’t done in so long… Draw. It was surreal that something so normal in my life was going to be used to help free me. And it was all because of Ethan.

But Derrick could still win.

River

M
y fingers were smudged with different shades of black. Emotions came alive on the canvas. I drew what I felt. Every shade, every line, was real to me. I drew my pain over being abused—sad torn bodies filled with scars and gaping wounds that spewed words of hate and anger. Others were filled with thin lines of hope. Sometimes the lines were broken, straining for some sort of connection. I added color in those, slight shades that were barely there. Because for a time, I didn’t know if I would survive. Didn’t know what I would do, but the hope in my heart was too much to contain.

And then I twisted into anger on other canvases.

I drew scenes of a terrified woman stuck in a hospital bed with tears and anger in her eyes. She didn’t look like me, but she was me. We mirrored each other, and I poured my feelings into her. The regret, anger, and fear. I gave her what I didn’t want to bear anymore. Because after Derrick was out of my life, I didn’t want to hold on to the feelings that could mess with me in ways I didn’t need them to.

I needed to have the cold calculation only in times when I needed to protect what was mine. Ethan showed me that. The canvases about us were my favorite. They were abstract, with random flashes of red and white against the black background. To someone who didn’t understand, they might see hate and anger, but it wasn’t. We were violent passion, twisted up in bodies that didn’t remember how to love easily. What may look like hate and an unhealthy relationship to others wasn’t how I saw it. As the colors blended and came alive before me, I felt the love blossom in my heart for my broken man.

What we had wasn’t pretty, but it was a fucking piece of art.

This was the art I was going to present for sale in my exhibition, which I named
Scarred Elegance
in Albuquerque. I hadn’t been to New Mexico, but the gallery I was going to be working with spoke to me. Their other artists had very imaginative art that I would fit in with. The best thing about it all was that Ethan helped grease some palms to get me the right introductions, but after that, it had been all me. For someone who hadn’t touched charcoals in a couple years, that meant a lot to me.

Rachel, the owner of the gallery, agreed to fly out in order to see my work in person after seeing some scans that I emailed to her. She was chic, fashionable, and direct. I appreciated the bluntness the most. After viewing some of my first pieces, she recommended I made sure I spanned the spectrum of emotions, but that my work would fit well in her gallery, and she’d be happy to do a showing.

I liked that she didn’t tell me I’d sell every piece, or that I’d be the next big thing. It meant enough that I would be making some sort of living with my art, and it was just the frosting on top that Derrick would be taken care of as my dreams became a reality.

At least we hoped he reached out.

We were home for three weeks now with no word from him. Ethan was fast getting my paperwork, a new California driver’s license and registration on the brand new BMW he bought me. I was a real person, with an ID, a paper trail, and a life—and I wasn’t afraid anymore.

The next step was creating a social media presence. I contacted some of my old professors from college and they were happy to share and support the news about my showing. River Hoyt, because using my married name may have caused problems with our plan, was now the owner of multiple social media pages. I checked them daily and talked to people, posted pictures, and enjoyed being a real woman.

There were times I posted about my workouts at Pantera Jiu-Jitsu MMA Gym, or even took pictures of my work. Everything was like I always wanted it. Even as a ploy to lure Derrick out, I didn’t think I’d stop after he was gone. Ethan gave me my life back, and I couldn’t let it go. A knock at the door behind me interrupted my thoughts and I turned around.

“Come in.”

Pavel walked in and eyed my work. He would come in every once in a while just to see what I was working on. I believed he was a closet appreciator of art, and I thought that he’d probably end up being one of my sales, if Ethan didn’t buy everything.

“Came to look around?” I asked.

“Pantera wants to see you,” he said.

“Okay.” I dropped my charcoals wiped my hands on a towel before heading towards the door.

“Can I stay?” Pavel asked.

“For as long as you’d like.” I went back towards him and threw my arms around his neck. He 'humphed' with surprise but hugged me back.

“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear.

“For what?”

“For taking care of him until I got here.”

I kissed his cheek and let him go, but didn’t miss the faint blush on his face before I left the room. Pavel was like a father to Ethan, I saw that easily, and he did the best he could to help Ethan survive in prison. I couldn’t fault him for helping make Ethan the man he was today. It was all he knew and it brought Ethan and I together.

I hurried from the east wing of the house, where my studio was so I could work with the rising sun, and headed down the stairs to get to Ethan’s study. The doors were firmly shut, but I breezed through them. There wasn’t a door in this house I couldn’t open unless Ethan told me not to, and even then he’d have to have a damn good reason.

“You needed me?” I closed the door behind me. In this room, Ethan looked like the dangerous man he was. Today, he had on a black button up shirt that was open at the throat and his sleeves were rolled up over his forearms. He also wore his holsters, and the silver and black butts of the guns were visible. He didn’t often wear his guns in the house, so I hesitated.

When he looked at me his eyes were dangerous.

“What happened?”

“The gallery where your show was going to be held next month has been shut down, and Rachel was arrested under suspicion of taking kickbacks under the table. It’s been tied to criminal organizations, possibly.”

“You get her the fuck out of that jail cell.”

My dreams. That fucker had to take away everything that he could that was good and pure. It didn’t matter to him who he hurt or who was affected, as long as he got what he wanted: me hurting. I sank into the chair in front of Ethan’s desk and tried not to feel defeated. I needed to see what Ethan had planned. He was dressed for war, and I worried he might make a stupid decision in his anger.

“I’ve already made sure Rachel has a lawyer, one that isn’t directly related to the family. He’s looking into the charges already and knows the case is shaky, but there will be enough red tape to go through, and permits to be renewed before she can reopen.”

“But she will reopen.” It wasn’t a question. Rachel took a chance on me and I wouldn’t let her fall because some asshole wanted to fuck me over.

“Of course, River. I knew how much this meant to you. I’ll make sure I have a tournament through the gym, and have a few of the guys talk about supporting the place that was going to show one of their fellow fighters. Proceeds from the tournament will go to her. That way they know the money is clean and can’t stop it. This changes things with Derrick.”

“He isn’t going to come out of where he’s hiding unless we give him something really good, then. He’s scared, that makes him stupid, but it also makes him paranoid. Just in case that was a trap for him, he ruined it.”

“Then let him think he’s broken you.”

“What?”

“Derrick loves to see you fall. He loves to see you cowering and broken. If he thinks that this has, he’s going to be over the moon. You need to make sure that you make him believe this has really messed you up. Every day you should be putting all over your social media how this is messing with you. How you will be pulling back for a while.”

“No one is going to believe that, Ethan.”

“No one that knows you now, but those people don’t know you. And Derrick thinks he knows you. What do you think he will believe?”

Ethan was right on that account. Derrick would think that he won, and it wouldn’t take much. He was used to me breaking down and apologizing as soon as something went wrong because I didn’t want him mad at me. It made me sick to my stomach, but it was the truth. I pulled out my smartphone that I always carried with me now and made a few posts.

“I’ve started but I’ll do some more later, and won’t be posting anymore pictures for a while.”

“That won’t be enough to lure him out, River.”

Something was off. Ethan stared at me, but he wasn’t seeing me. Not really. He didn’t react to the sadness in my voice, or my presence in the room like he normally would. He was still, watching, waiting. It made my heart race and fear-laced adrenaline course through my veins.

“You have a new plan, and I’m not going to like it,” I guessed.

“How badly do you want him dead, River? How far are you willing to go to get what you want? If you say you’re through, I’ll protect you and you can live your life, but he’ll always be out there, pulling shit like this until I can get to his ass. But if you say you want him gone now, you have to tell me how far is too far.”

“What are you asking me, Ethan?”

“The same question I’ve always asked you. Do you have a stronger will to see him dead than he has to get you back?”

Did I? I wanted to say yes without thinking, but the way Ethan was acting made me hesitate, think. Derrick was my boogey man, always out there on the horizon looking for ways to ruin me. He wanted me back, and though I wasn’t afraid of dying anymore, I didn’t want to. I had something, some
one
to live for now, and that mattered more than anything.

But could I really have any sort of life if Derrick was still out there, waiting for me?

No, I couldn’t.

“I’ll go as far as I possibly have to,” I said. I looked Ethan right in the eyes, unflinching in the silence that surrounded us. Ethan stood up slowly, and now I could see his black slacks and hear the click of his dress shoes. He was dressed for business. He approached me slowly before tracing my cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“It’s going to hurt, baby. I can’t stop it from hurting.”

“Then make sure you’re the only one touching me,” I told him.

“I promise.”

I steeled myself, knowing the hit was coming, reading, somehow, the plan that he had. The one sure way to get Derrick to come for me. When the blow came it felt like my eye was going to explode, but Ethan had made sure to hit right on the cheekbone. Low enough not to cause damage, but in a place where it would bruise easily.

“I’m going to give you back,” he whispered. He struck again, and I spit blood from my mouth. My jaw ached, and I had bitten the back of my tongue.

“I know.”

I was going to keep my promises to River. No one was going to touch her but me. That wanker was going to feel every painful thing that ever happened to her.

Even if they were done by me.