Free Secrets and Scars: A Gripping Psychological Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 3) by Dori Lavelle

her legs. “Eat first. We can talk later.”
    I smiled as I lifted my mug to my lips. The water was cool and refreshing on my tongue. My body felt like a flower, unfurling with life with each drop that slid down my throat. I tried to stop myself from drinking too fast, but my thirst was stronger than my willpower. Jeordi refilled our mugs, and I emptied mine again quickly. When I reached for the jug, ready for another refill, Jeordi let out a throaty chuckle.
    “You might want to slow down.” He reached into his pockets, pulled out a strip of gum, and unwrapped it. “Leave some space in there for the food.” The gum disappeared into his mouth.
    “You’re right.” Heat spread through my cheeks as I placed the mug next to the water jug. “We haven’t had anything for a while.”
    “We want to hear your story.” Ingrid handed Owen the bowl of food. “But please, have something to eat.”
    I dipped my spoon in the food and scooped up a healthy serving of the rice and meat.
    The heavenly herbs, spices, and oil danced on my tongue. I closed my eyes briefly to better enjoy the flavors.
    Jeordi placed a hand on his wife’s thigh while they both watched Anna drawing invisible shapes on the table. Their love came across as pure and strong. Watching them, feeling their love, brought a lump to my throat. I longed for what they had: a family, a child, a love that wasn’t poisonous. Would I ever have that? I looked back down at my food and continued to eat, swallowing past the lump. Owen’s eyes were on me. I could guess what he was thinking. But I couldn’t look up, couldn’t give him hope.
    “There are three kinds of men I don’t like,” Jeordi said, after we had finished our food and had more to drink. He looked straight at Owen as he spoke. “Men who lie, men who beat women, and men who sleep with other men’s wives.”
    Ingrid turned to Chloe. “What my husband wants to know is whether you are cheating on your husband with Owen. Is that what made your husband so angry, why he wants to kill you?”
    I shook my head. “He was my fiancé when we got on the yacht. We had planned to elope. We did; we got married the same day. But that night,” I swallowed hard. “That night he became somebody else… a monster.” I folded my hands in my lap and looked down at them. A tear plopped onto my skin. I wanted to go on, but it was so hard to return to the yacht, even in my mind.
    Pull yourself together. These people want to help you.
    I lifted my gaze again and told them as much of the story as I could, leaving out some of the more gory details.
    Most of my story focused on the present, but I did tell them a bit about my childhood encounters with Alvin, that he was punishing me now because of things I did to him in the past. I refrained from going into too much detail, though. The last thing I wanted was for them to decide it was my own damn fault—even if it was—and choose not to help. I told them the events that took place on the yacht: the torture, the rape, and my failed attempt to escape in Haiti. Owen interjected occasionally, helping me out when it got to be too much.
    I ended the story with how I had pushed Alvin into the caldera.
    “You didn’t marry a man.” Jeordi got to his feet. “You married a monster.”
    “Yes,” Owen said. “And if he survived that fall into the caldera, he will not quit until he kills us both. I need help protecting Chloe.”
    Ingrid, whose eyes had been closed the entire time I spoke, pulled Anna into her arms, a mother hen protecting her chick. “No woman deserves to be treated that way. Wir müssen helfen.”
    “I apologize.” Jeordi sat back down. “My wife speaks German when something shocks her. She says we must help you.”
    I rubbed my palms on my knees. “But we’ll respect your decision if you decide not to—”
    “And live with your deaths on my conscience?” He picked up his rifle, rested it on his knee. “A man who hurts a woman is the devil himself.”