Saving Me (Finding You #3) Read online

  Dakota

  Throbbing. Swelling. Torture. These sensations were what I awoke to. Breathing hurt, so every time I inhaled it was with short gasps. It was dark. Listening for any sounds, there was nothing except the distant hoot of an owl. Inside was quiet. Too quiet. Where was John? Gone? Asleep? Sitting, watching and waiting?

  My arms and legs were splayed wide apart and tied to the bed so I resembled a star fish. My body was still naked.

  God, this was so bad. I was right back where I’d been all those months ago, except now I was tied up like John was trying some sick attempt at BDSM. How was I going to get out of this now? My window of opportunity had run out. I would have to deal with whatever he dealt me.

  I attempted to pull on my shackles but they bit into my skin. The pain of that was nothing compared to the rest of my body and yet the mental agony far outweighed everything. He’d always been into degrading me and little had changed.

  Just like Daniel’s father, the only way to stop him was to get rid of him. If I couldn’t find some way to do that, he would continue to brutalize me.

  My throat was parched but I didn’t want to try and call out to get John’s attention. That was the last thing I wanted. Hopefully he would be sleeping off his own injuries.

  The only way to get out of the mess would be to try and free myself from the bindings but they had been done up so tight, I didn’t know how that would be possible.

  Wiggling my ankles and wrists, I felt for any give in the rope. Any slackness at all may be just what I needed to work an arm or leg free.

  Twisting my wrists and trying to ignore the rope burn, I figured even if I had one hand to spare, I could use it to try and undo all the ropes.

  The bed squeaked from my movement, stopping me in my tracks to listen for any sign John might have heard. If he caught me trying to escape there would be hell to pay. My body wouldn’t survive another beating.

  Both wrists were bleeding, the warm liquid oozing down each arm. I didn’t need sight to know it was blood. It was irrelevant at this point, though. What else could I do apart from keep trying to wiggle free?

  So far all I’d managed to achieve was the ability to twist my wrists within the rope. As for loosening it enough to fit the widest part of my hand through, that was going to take some serious effort.

  ***

  Time passed but I couldn’t gauge how long because it was still dark. The sky hadn’t even begun to look like lightening. At a guess, it was probably around 2 a.m. It felt like I’d been trying to pry free for several hours but in actual fact it had probably only been one.

  My mind switched gears to Kyle. He would be senseless with worry. Had he called the police? Were they looking for me? It didn’t really matter anyway because to find me in a secluded cabin at Big Bear Lake would be impossible. John had planned everything meticulously, there was no arguing with that. I only hoped he had left a trail of clues

  I should be lying in Kyle’s arms, deeply asleep; not spread-eagled, naked, and beaten in a cabin with someone I hated to my very core.

  If I could just get this damn rope off! While John was sleeping, I may be able to find some way out of this tomb. I could be out and gone before he woke up. It would give me the head start I needed.

  I was sure that when it became light and I saw my wrists, they would resemble raw meat. That’s how they felt. Skinless and gory.

  My energy was depleted as I sagged back into the mattress, more tears falling at the futility of it all. I was doomed. I’d been doomed right from the start of this sham of a marriage. It was all meant to end this way. The small sliver of happiness I’d experienced with Kyle and Daniel was God’s way of not being a total creep and allowing me some morsel of joy before he took it all away again. Bad things always happened to good people. When would John’s day of reckoning come? When he was dead?

  He sure as hell seemed to have coasted through his life, using anger to his advantage to get whatever he wanted. It just didn’t seem fair.

  Too exhausted to even move my wrists any more, my torso on fire from probably more than one fractured rib, I succumbed to the nothingness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dakota

  As Big Bear Lake yawned and stretched at the dawning of a new day, I roused, groggily feeling like I’d been heavily sedated with medication. My one working eye left a blurry vision of the bedroom that held me prisoner.

  The first thing I noticed was I was thankfully alone. For how long would remain to be seen.

  I lifted my head to my bound wrists to see what damage I’d caused the previous night.

  My left forearm had ample dried blood over it and underneath the rope sat a raw, tender abrasion that stung just looking at it. The angry flesh would only get worse in my pursuit for freedom. Still, even if I had to rub my wrist to the bone, it would be worth it.

  Birds outside began to chirp as the sun rose, the sounds of nature doing little to pacify me. Stranded months ago on Ragged Island, feeling helpless and sorry for myself, at least I’d been soothed by the bird calls and insect noises. All they did to me now was make me aware that should I not make it out of this cabin alive, the world would continue to go on as usual as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. That feeling alone made me feel insignificant and small.

  Trying to ignore the cutting, chafed skin on my wrist, I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as I continued to twist and turn my arm, hoping to somehow loosen the tether.

  A noise in another room had my head snapping towards the door.

  Shit! He’s awake!

  Needing no more prompting, I furiously moved my hand backwards and forwards, around and around, pulling the suspended length of rope taut and hoping the fresh oozing blood would help lubricate my wrist so I could slide it out.

  A loud thump was followed by cursing that became louder down the hallway. John obviously had kicked something as he’d risen from wherever he’d slept. I only wished it had been a bucket. That would solve all my problems. It was quite surprising that he hadn’t opted to share my bed, much to my joy, but as I was stretched to resemble a starfish there wasn’t any room on the bed to spare.

  My tugging became frantic, knowing John would be on his way to my room. Furiously I yanked on the restraints, still thinking I could free myself in time.

  Suddenly the door swung open. There he stood. Grinning sardonically, shirtless with just a pair of boxers on. His nose was swollen and black and purple bruises hung below his eyes from the break. Dried blood painted his top lip and his chin where I’d taken a bite. It looked painful.

  I inwardly gave myself a high-five, happy that I’d at least managed to inflict my own form of torture on him, although by the way he was sneering, it had only served to drive his insanity higher.

  “How’s my beautiful wife, this morning? Mmm? Get a good night’s sleep?” One of his arms was leaning against the doorframe, his stance angled, feet crossed slightly.

  He was being his usual sarcastic asshole-self. How the hell did he think I had slept? I turned my head towards the window, not able to look at the filthy, arrogant jerk.

  “I need a drink of water.”

  “Is that any way to ask me for something? Where are your manners? Say, ‘please, dear husband of mine, could you be so kind as to get me a glass of water?’”

  I scoffed. That would be the damn day! Who the hell did he think he was?

  Before I could utter anything else, he was on the bed, clutching a handful of my hair, tugging on it so that I had no choice but to turn around to face him. “Look at me when I talk to you!”

  His livid, booming voice still made me jump as I tried to keep my face stoic.

  “Say it!” He pulled on my hair so hard, I was sure the whole tuft would come out at the roots.

  Letting out a yelp, my voice quivered as I murmured the words that came out barely louder than a whisper.

  “Louder! I can’t hear you!” He pulled even harder on my hair, which seared my scalp.

 
Wincing, I nearly screamed the words, “Please, dear husband of mine, could you be so kind as to get me a glass of water?”

  Instantly he let go of my hair and smiled triumphantly. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? If you do as you’re told we won’t have any problems.”

  He left to get what I hoped was the water. If he really wanted to be cruel, he could make me go without it until he saw fit. He obviously didn’t want me dead yet. That thought didn’t light my fire. He had something bigger planned. He hadn’t finished having his sick way with me. It didn’t matter what way you looked at it. Life as I had come to know it was over.

  A couple of minutes later John was back with a glass of water. Without my hands free I was going to have to rely on him. Perching on the bed, he put the glass up to my mouth. I lifted my head, ignoring the explosion of fireworks that seemed to go off inside and drank the tepid liquid. It was like gold, even if it was straight from the tap. It could have been from a dirty puddle outside and it would have tasted like heaven. I drank and drank until there was nothing left before falling back onto the pillow.

  “See, I’m not the monster you think I am if you’ll just give me another chance.”

  Yeah, that was never going to happen. Just one look at my face and broken ribs would tell him that all his chances were gone. Long gone. He had no right to even think it. Even if he were the last person on earth, it would never happen. Is that what all this was about? He hadn’t come to have a little fun with me and abuse me as a bonus but he actually thought he would win me over and I would go running back to him with open arms?

  That was so above and beyond the term ‘mental’ I almost laughed out loud. No one else knew the extent of this man’s depravity. How dark his soul had become. I’d seen his aura. Black. Frightening. Consuming.

  I wondered how smart he really was. Should I try to use his reasons for bringing me here to my advantage? Instead of fighting him, should I lead him to believe we actually had a shot at making the marriage work? Surely then he’d let his guard down enough for me to escape. It sickened me to even consider it but these were the lengths I may have to go to for any chance at all to get out of here. A million thoughts flooded my mind.

  The first thing I needed to do was get him to untie me. That was going to be tough but not impossible if he thought I was warming to him.

  As much as it disgusted me to say the words, I attempted a smile before replying with, “We did have some good times, didn’t we?”

  “Damn straight we did! Remember our honeymoon?”

  “How could I forget? Scuba diving on the Whitsunday Islands in Queensland. Lazing on private beaches, sipping on cocktails.” It was one of the few decent memories, buried deep within. It was before John had lost the plot and started drinking heavily. Before the abuse. Before I began to hate him with a passion.

  John was still perched on the bed as he turned to touch my face. His calloused fingers felt like acid as he moved in closer. At first I thought he was going to kiss me but he moved his mouth to my ear and whispered. “Now that I have you back again, it’ll be just like old times, hey sweet thing?”

  Was I digging myself in a grave so deep that I’d never see daylight? Everything in me screamed out to keep fighting but I knew that would never work. I needed a different approach.

  I had to remain strong and play the game. I couldn’t afford to lose it and rile him up again. I did what I always did and gave in to him. “Just like old times.” The words were choked out.

  “Now, what’s say you and I get re-acquainted?” His hand found my breast. He squeezed, causing pain to lance through the area. It was already bruised where he’d punched me and broken some ribs.

  John noticed it and lightened his touch.

  I hid a gag at the feel of his fingers trying to get me aroused as they pinched my battered, sensitive nipple. All it served to do was to irritate the already delicate area.

  His raspy stubble felt like sandpaper on my neck as he kissed and licked my skin. Inside, my mind was screaming to get him away but he had me exactly where he wanted me. Defenseless. At his mercy. He held all the power.

  “Mmm. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? I’ve dreamt of it for months now and here we both are. Husband and wife reunited again.”

  My frigid body was tense. Even the hair on my head seemed to stand rigid instead of cascading around my shoulders as it normally would.

  In order to buy some time I decided to put out a plea. “Please, honey! I need to go to the bathroom before we proceed. That water I had earlier has gone straight through me. I don’t want any embarrassing accidents.” In actual fact the water had gone straight through me. Without food to soak up some of the liquid, my strained bladder was on the edge of letting go.

  John’s head lifted and he stopped his fondling.

  “Fuck! You really know how to spoil the mood, you know that? Fine. But I want your ass back here ASAP.”

  He sat up on the bed and began to untie my arms. When the first rope was removed I almost cried out in relief. My arm was so stiff and sore from being held in the one position for so long that sharp twinges tore through my elbow and shoulder joints with precision. With both free some of the blood ran back down to my fingers, causing pins and needles.

  I wasn’t going to try anything stupid yet, though. It wasn’t the right time. He hadn’t been lulled into a false sense of security yet. As much as I wanted to try and make a run for it, I held off. John needed to be incapacitated somehow so he couldn’t chase me.

  When all the shackles had been removed, I sat on the edge of the bed, letting my circulation flow. My upper body was in agony with the movement so it was going to take a while to shuffle to the bathroom.

  “I think I have some broken ribs. It’s going to take me longer to use the bathroom.”

  John narrowed his eyes as he barked, “Get up! Don’t think I’m letting you go on your own.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the bathroom, oblivious to what I had just declared about having broken ribs. My lungs endeavored to suck in oxygen as gravity pulled everything south. Unable to move forward, I howled, gripping my chest in order to ease the wretched fire burning me from the inside out. “Ahhhh! Stop!”

  “Oh, come on! Stop being such a baby! Get into that bathroom. I’ll be waiting right outside the door.”

  He rammed me inside the door and slammed it shut. My legs gave way. The cold, white tiles came up to greet me.

  It was hopeless to contain the tears that gushed forth. This brutality was worse than death. Keeping my sanity in order to find help was going to prove the hardest thing I’d ever had to endure. Not to mention my injuries. My ribs needed time to heal.

  “Hurry up in there! I’m counting!”

  Damn him! He was one man! How did he get to do this? Was I so weak and easy to mistreat? I guess I was. He knew it and that’s why he kept pursuing me.

  Clawing my way across the bathroom floor, I found the toilet. Latching onto the towel rail nearby, I hauled myself up and plonked down onto the toilet seat, struggling to breathe.

  Managing to empty my bladder, I decided to wait until his highness summoned me. Prolonging the sex I knew would follow was only delaying the inevitable but at that point an extra minute not in John’s company felt like paradise.

  I thought back to Daniel’s father on Ragged Island and how that had all ended. Murder. Death. And yet at the time it had seemed like the best option, given the circumstances. After we’d donated his body to the ocean and collapsed in horrified shock, taking the life of Daniel’s abusive father had actually felt cathartic in many ways. A guarantee that Daniel would be safe from that point on. Freedom from a monster, knowing he could never hurt anyone ever again. Surely in the eyes of the law that would be seen as self-defense, wouldn’t it? How far did a person have to be traumatized before they finally took matters into their own hands?

  Just like now, if things were to end the same way, would the murder of John be seen as self-defense? It had to becaus
e I wanted the bastard wiped off the planet. It was the least he deserved.

  “Get out of there, now! You’ve had more than enough time!” John roared.

  I mentally flicked the switch in my head that would turn off all my emotions and force me into zombie-mode so that whatever ensued would fail to break me. I rose and hobbled towards the nightmare that was my ex-husband.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kyle

  Even though it was Sunday morning, Daniel and I made our way to the police station to find out what they were doing to find Dakota. I couldn’t take it anymore. There had been no updates at all overnight and it was doing my head in. Valuable time was being wasted. There must be something that could be done.

  I hadn’t slept a wink. Zilch. Zippo. It was showing in the bags under my bloodshot eyes. I purchased a drive through coffee on our way in an attempt to rev me up a bit but the worry of Dakota’s disappearance thwarted that attempt.

  I needed to call Dad to see if his friend Mike had any leads.

  We also needed to retrieve Dakota’s Lexus from the old apartment complex and take it to the new house. First things first, though.

  The gravity of the situation was starting to weigh heavy on Daniel too. The normally chirpy thirteen year old boy was somber and quiet as we parked outside the small police precinct not far from our local neighborhood and entered to find a one-man show. The boy hadn’t opened up too much about what was going through his mind but I could only imagine.

  The officer looked up as we entered. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

  “Hello. I’m Kyle Rutherford. I spoke with Officer Clarke yesterday about my missing wife and I’m here to find out how I can assist.”

  The middle-aged man, slightly overweight with balding, greying hair, scratched his face as he scanned the desk that was littered with paperwork. “Ah, yes. Officer Clarke is off for the day, but I have a file here made up with some notes. He mentioned the case. Let me see.” He proceeded to open the file and flick through some pages as he picked up his coffee cup and took a long swig. “Missing since yesterday morning, one Dakota Livingston, female Caucasian, 32 years old, last seen exiting a Hollywood apartment complex with a male, also Caucasian, resembling her ex-husband John Hansford. Is that correct, sir?”