Twisted Tides (Forged Hearts #2)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

EVIE

“In the End” by Linkin Park

M ateo drove us to the place Mr. Martinez told him to on the phone. We heard his phone ring, and when he answered, he looked at us. Without saying a word, we knew the plan had changed.

Now we are in a Walmart parking lot, of all places. It is packed, and I guess that is the point. We were transferred to another vehicle, this time a black SUV similar to the one Julian rode around in when Emma was with him. I say the term “with him” loosely because she did not have a choice toward the end. The end of where we ended his life and then set Cherry on fire in her own car in front of their house.

I notice Emma tense as she walks over to it. Every instinct she has for self-preservation screams for her to run from this SUV. Do not get into the vehicle, which is blaring with loud red sirens.

We ignore that loud warning bell and walk with purpose to the SUV. We slide into the seats as the doors close in the back, locking us in—as if we would try to run at this point.

Ramón is driving Mateo’s vehicle, and Mr. Martinez and Mateo are in the middle section with Marcus, along with another scary-looking man with a bald head and a gold front tooth that eyes me lasciviously from the rearview mirror. He licks his lips, and I look away. Marcus laughs in the front seat, but no one says anything as we drive out of the parking lot.

Our hands have been ziptied since we left Houston, and they ache with the need to rip them apart. To free myself from these physical confines. Having to use the restrooms outside the gas station we stopped at was difficult since we didn’t have the luxury of having free hands. Now, I sit here in silence with only another few hours remaining before we get to our new prison.

I don’t know how I could have fallen asleep, but I wake up with a jolt as the SUV door slams shut, and Emma looks over at me. Our door opens, and that scary man that was lusting at me in the mirror opens my door, grabbing me over the seat and hoisting me out of the car. His hand lands on my breast, and I flinch, almost falling over as he leans over me, catching my fall while his erection digs into my backside.

As he struggles to stand me up, Mateo is striding over to him, pushing him away from me. He snarls at the man, and he smirks at my brother, knowing very well what he is doing to aggravate and get a rise out of him. Mateo stands straight, demanding respect.

I look over at Emma, who is watching along with Mr. Martinez, who is watching the exchange with amusement.

“My sisters are going to be promised to some very wealthy men. I won’t have you tampering with them. We need them, so if I so much as see you look at them in the lustful manner in which you did before, I will cut your eyes out, am I clear?”

The guard looks over at Mr. Martinez.

Mateo slaps his face, getting his attention back to him. “Do not look to my father to save you. I am his son and heir. You will listen and respect me, or I will beat it out of you until you understand. You work for me. You got me?”

He must understand whatever he was looking for in his employer because he changes his tune quickly. “Of course, boss. I understand now.”

Mateo nods, and we walk to the house. Still zip-tied, Emma and I walk in front of our brother as Mr. Martinez and Ramón enter the house.

We walk through the opulent and gaudy interior of the home, and I hate to say that it screams I want to be important . It is so flashy that my eyes cannot look at one thing. The mismatched designs and bright colors are in opposition with themselves, and I become dizzy trying to make sense of what is going on here. It is the exact opposite of class. The design is… I’m-trying-too-hard with a splash of desperation sprinkled into the home’s interior design.

My boots echo on the open foyer as we stop, taking a look at our temporary home. A woman comes through shortly after and greets Mr. Martinez, welcoming him home. She is young and very pretty and I suspect she is there for things other than being the estate’s stewardess. I wonder how Mrs. Martinez feels about that.

“Adalia, this is my long-lost son, Mateo. I have finally brought him home.”

Mateo nods at Adalia, and she blushes. Of course, she does.

“It’s so nice to make your acquaintance, Mateo.”

I roll my eyes, and Emma just watches the exchange.

He nods. “Adalia, these are my sisters. I trust that you will keep an eye on them and give them whatever they need to make their short stay here as pleasant as possible.”

Adalia spares a glance with a small smile before returning her full attention to my brother. “Of course, sir. I can absolutely do that for you. I can do anything that you need me to.”

Ramón coughs. Mr. Martinez looks at her sternly, and I am sure she will be punished for that comment later. I don’t wish that on my worst enemy, especially if he is anything like his son.

Emma gulps loudly, and I can only imagine the memories that are brought up now, being in this house once again.

“I’ll show them to their rooms, sir,” Adalia says.

Emma and I start to walk off, but Ramón calls out for us to stop. He walks over with a pocket knife in his extended hand. Mateo immediately takes the knife from him and comes over to us.

“Here,” he says, pointing at the zip-ties.

I wordlessly extend my arms out to him, and he cuts through my ties and then does the same thing to Emma. Immediately, we attempt to ease the tingling in our wrists from being in that fixed position for the last ten hours.

Mateo’s eyes hone in on the redness that encircles our wrists, but he doesn't comment. The tic of his jaw is the only sign that he is upset at the pain he was partially responsible for, but we all have our parts to play. His parting words echo in my mind, easing some of the feelings brewing.

We follow Adalia as Mr. Martinez says, “Come on, son. Follow me. I have much to talk to you about.”

I hear their footsteps leave us as we hit the home’s second level and walk to our gilded cage.

We are in a bedroom that is connected to a bathroom—a Jack-and-Jill style.

“Here you go, ladies,” Adalia says as she shows us to our room. “Your suitcases are here, and I believe they have already been checked, so if your things seem to be rummaged through, then you would be correct. Can’t be too safe these days.”

I want to say safe from who, but I can’t find it in me to talk to this poor, brainwashed creature.

“I suggest getting a good night’s sleep because breakfast is early.” She heads toward the door, but I stop her.

“We are eating breakfast with our brother?”

She turns back to address me, her hands intertwined in front of her. “Oh no, you will be served breakfast and lunch in your rooms.”

I nod in understanding. They are truly locking us in here.

But she adds, “You will have dinner tomorrow night with everyone present where they will let you know what is expected of you.”

With that, she leaves and closes the door behind her. We hear a lock, and then her footsteps trail off until there is nothing but silence. Suffocating silence.

I study our surroundings and then look at Emma. She sits on the bed, hugging herself. I walk over and sit beside her.

“Will you sleep with me, Evie?”

I nod. I don’t want to be alone, either. Even though our rooms are connected through a Jack-and-Jill style bathroom, it feels too far to be away from one another. I’d like for us to stick together in this place.

“Mateo won’t let anything happen to us, Emma.” I don't know if I say that to reassure her or myself because right now, I am feeling anything but safe in this palatial prison.

I walk to the bathroom with my toiletries and belongings under my arm to shower. As the water runs, I undress. The images of Jameson just a few hours ago seem like a lifetime away, but I can still smell him on me, and that thought brings me comfort.

I reluctantly step into the shower, not wanting to wash his last memory off me, but I need to freshen up from the trip. I let the hot water warm me up. Even though it is a hundred degrees outside, I feel chilled to the bone. The warmth of the water seeps into my skin, absorbing the heat and moisture past its protective dermal barrier.

After I’m done, I step out and towel dry my hair. I touch my earring and remember that Jameson is here with me, and that gives me a sense of comfort. Emma is waiting to shower after me. I brush my hair in front of the mirror. I wonder if he can hear me.

“We made it. Emma is in the shower. We have adjoining rooms on the second floor with a bathroom in between, Jack-and-Jill style. Emma wants me to sleep with her tonight, and honestly, she didn’t even have to ask me twice.”

I put some product in my hair, slicking it down. “They locked us in here. They said they will feed us breakfast and lunch here, and then we are to join them for dinner to learn what will be expected of us. I am sure they would love to discipline us if given the chance. I’ll try my best not to cause any trouble.” I pick up the blow-dryer and dry my hair.

I look up to see Emma standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at me. I apply some moisturizer to my face, stand, and walk past her returning to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I step back out, she is braiding her hair where I was just sitting.

“It helps to keep the curls if I do it this way.”

I didn’t ask her, but I feel it, too. There is a need to say something, anything, to make the feeling of normalcy return to our lives. Except this isn’t anything normal. We are locked in a room of the house of an evil man, going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder through a forced marriage all to help Mr. Martinez gain power through our family connections.

Walking over to my bag dropping it to the floor, I start taking things out of my suitcase, standing up pissed. “They took my Kindle, those assholes. I thought maybe I’d get to read, but nope. It’s not like I can access the internet. It would just be to read what I had on there. I have a lot of books on there. It would have helped to pass the time.” I throw my head back, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

Emma shrugs. “Well, that is one thing we have…” I pause, looking around and then back to meet my sister’s eyes, wondering what she means by that comment.

“Plenty of time,” Emma explains. She walks over to the bed, pulling back the covers. She climbs in and pats the side of the bed. “Come on, Evie. We should get a little sleep. Who knows what will happen tomorrow.”

I walk over to the bed and climb in. “The bed is comfortable. I’ll give them that.” I pull the blankets over my chest, and Emma leans into me.

“Good night, Evie.”

I place my head on hers. “Good night, Emma. Maybe when we wake up tomorrow, it will all be just a bad dream.”

I feel someone pulling me. “No, I don’t want to go with you. Please, just stop. You’re hurting me.”

But he just shakes me over and over.

“Evie,” I hear my name being called, and I sit upright in bed in a place I don’t recognize. “Evie, it’s me, Emma. You were having a nightmare.”

I notice a pale light coming through from the window drapery. I lay back down.

“Great, I woke up from one nightmare just to realize I’m living in another one.”

I feel the sweat cooling on my skin as I take a deep breath and count my breathing to stop the anxiety and panic from creeping in. I don’t want Emma to witness it. I’ve always tried to keep it from her.

“Do you have dreams like that a lot?” she asks, and I look over at her.

I bit my lip with worry. “Sometimes, I guess.” I shrug it off, trying to make light of my nightmares. “I haven’t had one in a while.”

I’ve changed, and I think it has a lot to do with Jameson being in my life. He has been there for me, loved me, and made me feel safe. My brother may have saved me from several close encounters, but Jameson saved me from myself. From being in my own head. He gave me the time and patience I needed to learn how to trust someone and relinquish the control that I sought to maintain after I had none with the assault, and later in the situation with Emma’s own abuse.

I remember waking up unconscious in an alley from one of Julian’s abusive encounters. The memory makes me shiver. I was alone and vulnerable there, unconscious. Anything could have happened, but Mateo saved me.

I just pray he can do it again.

I must have had the same dream because, once again, I feel like I am not in control of my life. I am at the mercy of Mr. Martinez. I just hope that we come out of this. If we do, it will be on the other side, finally waking up from this nightmare.