Riveted (Art of Eros #1) (22 page)

Chapter 22

Mara woke up the next morning, aching from head to toe. Her foot throbbed where dried blood covered the cut, a grim reminder of the night before. After mulling over the facts, she almost smiled to herself, thinking about the mask that lifted off of Brock’s face, revealing more of the real him. He was ugly, sad, and in ruin.

The warm light of the morning sun streamed in, highlighting the middle of the grey concrete floor. Flecks of dust glinting and floating in the air were a reflection of her scattered and insignificant life. She realized that she married Brock with eyes wide shut. She didn’t want to accept what was there all along; it was easier to believe Brock was the man of her dreams. Her heart recognized the monster behind that mask, but her mind talked her out of acknowledging him. Mara wanted her ‘happily ever after,’ everything in a nice, neat package, but life had a way of presenting lessons so you had no choice but learn them or relive them.

Her eyes followed the stream of light coming from the window she looked out of the night before, as she remembered watching Mac down below. Her heart ached with emptiness, as some of her hope faded away. By sheer willpower, she stood and slowly shuffled to the open window frame. Her body screamed its disapproval right before his eyes burn into her back. She turned around, peering down to the opposite corner of the room, into the shadows where the sunlight couldn’t quite reach him.

“Sweet dreams, princess? Don’t worry. Prince Charming won’t be saving you. This isn’t some fucking Disney flick.” As he came into the light, he was smirking, but his eyes gave him away. A flicker of fear passed over them. Her sensitivity to him and all his nuances increased dramatically during their time together. As much as she loathed him, she stayed attune to his every move in hopes of finding that crack she could slip through.

Mara flinched at his words, as if slapped by the reality of her situation. If Brock noticed her discomfort, he didn’t let on or care. He continued to discuss the plan for the day, the one that would hand him what he wanted, but the price might be Mara’s life, or someone else’s. Brock made that abundantly clear throughout his diatribe.

She listened with half an ear while her brain tried to find a hole in his plan where she could escape unharmed. Watching him intently, she looked for any signs of a slip-up in his self-proclaimed ‘foolproof plan.’ She almost laughed at that notion. There was no such thing as a foolproof plan. Her life was a perfect example of that.

“Mara. Mara!” In two strides, Brock shortened the space between them, holding her chin in a vice grip as he glared at her with knowing eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t try to find a way to escape. Someone is watching your sisters and lover boy as we speak. One wrong move and they die. You forget how well I read you. I have studied you over the years to always be one step ahead. Life is always about being one step ahead, Mara.”

Brock held her eyes to make sure she understood she wasn’t the queen in this chess game. But there was something there that Mara didn’t miss, his uncertainty. She wondered if he was bluffing. He wanted her to think he was working with someone else. He didn’t anticipate her study of him over the years as a way to survive the abuse. She spent time reading him to anticipate when the tide would turn and she could react accordingly. Call it woman’s intuition, but it never failed her. The pain in her heart never lied. Right then, her intuition tapped her on the shoulder, begging her to listen. Something wasn’t quite right.

~

By midmorning everyone reconvened in the suite, which had been turned into a command central. They all looked as though they had been shot out of a cannon sideways, trying to figure out how they survived the blast. Once again, Mac stepped up to take control.

“Here’s the plan for today. Leigha and Raquelle, I want you to canvass the resort. Take pictures of Mara and Brock with you. Ask everyone if they have seen either one of them in the last two days.”

Mac opened and closed fisted his hands. Sydney was unsure if he was trying to hold himself together or hold down his anger. The dark circles under his eyes gave away his sheer emotional exhaustion. He probably had a fitful night of sleep, thinking of all the ways he could kill Brock once he got his hands on him.

“How about I sit with security and monitor the cameras? There may be a chance that Brock will bring Mara back to the resort for the laptop. I’ll let you know if I pick up on anything unusual.” Sydney would need to step up to make this a productive day. Mac wasn’t operating on all cylinders.

“I’ve already contacted local law enforcement, for what it’s worth. I’ll bring them up to speed. I spoke to McFadden to let him in on what’s happening. He gave us carte blanche to do what we need to do to bring Brock in and bring Mara back. He wants Brock alive. He has crucial information about the Russians that might help them tie this case together internationally.”

Mac’s second wind was kicking in. Far from giving up, he would push himself to the brink to bring Mara back. If they could get one break, he would make the most of the opportunity to bring Brock down.

His vessel was empty without her. His heart wanted her and wouldn’t be denied. But that cord between them was stretched to its limit. All he wanted to do was hold her for the rest of his life, a thought he had without reservation, and a place he never thought he would be. He couldn’t let her go. She was the energy that coursed through his veins. He hoped Sydney would be the one to bring in Brock alive, because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill him dead in his tracks.

A quiet that fell over the group filled with all the things that weren’t being said. Would they find them? Would Brock kill Mara when he was done with her? How would they all survive without her?

Suddenly, the heaviness of the situation was in his chest, but he pushed it down because he couldn’t go there, not when they may be so close. He needed to keep his head in the game and his heart out of it for the time being.

Raquelle’s sniffle broke the silence and Leigha put her arm around her.

“We are going to find her. She’s smart and she’ll find a way out.” Leigha sounded confident but weary. She was always the rock, but the rock was starting to crumble.

“I guess I’m dealing with the reality of it all, the possibility that we may never be with her again. I want more time with her. I want to know more about her. We just turned a corner and now we may be facing a life without her.” For as tough as Raquelle seemed, her heart poured out at the thought of losing Mara, her big sister. Mac reached over and grabbed Raquelle’s hand, getting her undivided attention. He locked on to her eyes with a fierceness that demanded her focus.

“On the upside, we’re pretty sure she’s still alive. Brock needs her. We have to cover all our bases and find a hole in his plan. We need to outsmart him. I never thought I would hear myself say this, but we need to have faith here to get us and her through it all.” Mac’s face grimaced with pain, but was unable to hide the sheer determination and passion in his eyes. He was definitely not giving up on Mara. Raquelle wiped her tears away and stood up straighter. She nodded in agreement as if Mac transfused some of his determination into her body.

Even with no appetite, they decided to order brunch. Each of them ate enough to get them through the day but mostly pushed the food around on their plates in silence. Their minds seemed in different places, going over all the scenarios and possible dreadful endings.

After brunch, they split up to their various assignments and began the search. They found a new reserve of courage and hope through their silent imaginations. They had more fight left in them, fueling them to the end.

~

Not more than five miles away, in a dilapidated concrete cell, Mara sat awaiting Brock’s plan for her. He pulled a blonde wig out of the duffle bag and threw it at her. He handed her a makeup case full of pale colors, a palette for a blonde, from the foundation to the lipstick.

“In case I had to drag you out anywhere. The make up was easy enough to find. They like to cater to the blonde and blue-eyed tourists down here.” His smug smile matched his ego, knowing he covered all his bases. All the backup plans made it seem as if he knew what he was doing on every level. “I know how good you are with makeup, so do a professional job because I will know the difference. I watched you put this crap on your face every day for five years, that mask you wear to let everyone see how perfect you are inside and out.”

His words cut like blades. For once, she didn’t want to put any makeup on, but this wasn’t a choice. She almost cried at the irony of her life. She spent so many years creating the illusion of the perfect wife with the perfect house to cover up the not-so-perfect husband. As she finally let the mask go, she needed to put it on one more time. If she made it out of this alive, she might never wear makeup again.

Her hands shook badly. Stopping for a moment, she held them together and breathed through her fear. Applying make up required a steady hand to create this mask of survival, hoping it would save her life in the end. She applied the foundation, eye shadow, liner, blush and the final touch of brown mascara instead of her classic black. She was amazed at how a wig and makeup could change someone’s whole appearance. By the time she was finished, her own mother wouldn’t recognize her.

She sucked in a breath at the thought of never seeing her parents again, biting her lip to keep from trembling. By killing her, Brock would create the domino effect and hurt everyone in her family. She was so lost in her thoughts about her family she didn’t notice him standing there. Of course, he couldn’t resist making a cutting comment.

“Why, princess, you’ve done a remarkable job. I almost don’t recognize you. You might really fool everyone this time around.” He had an over confident look on his face that read, ‘I’m going to get away with this!’

Brock made sure to hold on to her upper arm as they made their way to the car. He didn’t need a repeat performance from the night before. She walked next to him with her head down. As they got closer to the car, Mara peeked up to see a beat-up red rental car with garbage all over the floor and seats. The car looked as though he lived out of it for the past week as he watched her twenty-four seven. She got the creeps thinking about him stalking her. In those moments, she had felt him without ever seeing him.

Why did it take me a fake death and five years of hell to figure him out? My mind didn’t want to see what true evil really looks like
.

Stopping at a small café on the way to the resort, Brock commented about not wanting her to faint due to low blood sugar. Since she was given the truth about Brock’s past, she recognized the pattern of his concern for always having food. Interesting how some things from childhood always stuck with you.

Mara ate what she could of the stale sandwich and drank some of the sour orange juice, a far cry from the gourmet five-star resort food. As she ate in silence, her thoughts went back to the night she spent with Mac. He attended to every detail of the evening. The effort he put into one evening spoke volumes about how he saw and felt about her. She realized no one was that good at faking their feelings, not even Brock. Mara knew she was so much more than an assignment to Mac.
Was?
If she got out of this alive, she wanted to change that to ‘is.’ She would have some apologizing to do for not believing him, but right then, he was her only lifeline.

Her life was surreal. These kinds of events didn’t happen to a girl from Greenwich. They happened to other people in the news, movies or books. She was disconnected from herself, knowing she needed to play the role of her life. She hoped she’d inherited her mother’s acting skills. Staring blankly at her food, she sighed deeply, hoping for a window of opportunity in the next couple of hours. Otherwise, she would be just another statistic of a vacationer gone missing in Mexico. She’d survived Brock that long and wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Brock never witnessed the fighter in her as she tried to keep the peace, but she was about to surprise him. More than ever, she wanted, no,
needed
to be with Mac. He demanded she take off her mask then reached into her soul, never shying away from her, even after he learned the truth about her abused life. That amazing man made her stronger, not weaker. Mac made the final rivet pop out of place and let her shine. She was alive with him. The darkness ate away at her over the years, causing her to build her steel wall, but he broke through the barrier to let the daylight in.

“Why so quiet, princess? Worried your fairy tale life is about to come to an end? God knows I like to keep you guessing.” Brock threw his head back and laughed like he owned the world. Then something passed in Mara’s eyes he couldn’t identify and he faltered. The faint smile on her lips that he couldn’t quite place, unnerving him. That smile came from the hint of self-doubt that registered in his eyes. The last three months wore him down and challenged his self-confidence. She might find that window of opportunity after all; she needed to pay close attention. The ownership of the chess pieces became blurred between the pawn and the queen.

On the way to the resort, Brock handed Mara a burner phone. Mara’s eyes shone with hope that this might be her way out. Brock laughed at her as she smoothed her thumb over the keys.

“Oh, princess, do you think that’s your lifeline? How sad. That phone in your hand is only linked to one number—mine. You should never underestimate me.” The hard edge in his voice emphasized the warning. Mara didn’t even look at him. She didn’t want to give attention to the deceit in his eyes with his overbearing self-confidence.