Read Online Secrets and Scars: A Gripping Psychological Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 3) by Dori Lavelle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dori Lavelle
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bald, skinny man, rose to his full height. From where we stood, he looked taller than the hut. One of the sitting men handed him a rifle.
“Put it down, Rodell,” our captor instructed. The willowy man obeyed, sank back down. They stared at us for a moment and then went back to their cards.
The moment we came to a halt, close to an unlit fireplace, a woman exited one of the larger huts, followed by a little girl who looked about three years old. The woman was beautiful, with blonde hair in a long braid swept to one side of her neck. Around her slim figure she wore a brown wrap dress, and no shoes. The little girl was an exact replica of her. Some of the tension in my body melted away at the presence of another woman.
Be careful. Don’t forget what happened the last time you trusted another woman.
I ignored the little voice. These people could be our last shot.
I’d follow Owen’s lead. If he ended up trusting them, so would I.
“Who are these people?” the woman asked in a German accent as she hurried toward us. “Why are you pointing a gun at them?”
“I found them on the land. They say they need help.”
“And you want to help them by threatening them?” She went to stand between us and the gun, hands on her hips. The little girl ran to Rodell . He scooped her up and placed her on his lap.
Our captor lowered his gun and carried out a low conversation with the woman.
The woman dropped her hands to her sides and turned to look at us, her long eyelashes shading her dark eyes.
“My husband says you’re in danger? Is that true?”
I nodded. “My husband… He’s trying to kill me.” I wouldn’t tell them that the man we were running from might be dead—that had to wait until they trusted us enough to offer help. “He was holding me prisoner on his yacht for days. He abused me.”
“Mein Gott!!” She placed a hand on her chest. As her husband had done before, her gaze traveled up and down my body as though looking for signs of the torture.
She turned to her husband. “They don’t look dangerous to me. Follow me,” she said, turning back to us. Then she hurried away.
On instinct, my eyes went to her husband. I expected him to stop us.
“You heard her.” He swung the gun and followed his wife. The little girl disentangled herself from Rodell and ran after our captor.
They led us into one of the round huts, which looked much bigger on the inside.
“Have a seat.” The woman waved at six chairs that framed a long rectangular table with short, stumpy legs. “My name is Ingrid.” She touched the man’s arm. “This is my husband, Jeordi Lafontaine.” She stretched out her hand to shake ours. “You look like you haven’t eaten for days. Let’s get you some food, and then you can tell us exactly what happened.”
Tears clogged my throat as my hand touched hers. “My name is Chloe. We are so grateful for your help.”
Jeordi, who was looking a little friendlier than he had earlier, leaned forward and shook Owen’s hand. “You never know who to trust these days. Most strangers are not who they say they are.”
“I’m Owen. You can trust us.”
“My wife is a good judge of character. I hope she’s right about you.” He ran his fingers through the little girl’s thick curls. “This is our daughter, Anna.”
“Hello, Anna. I’m Owen.” Owen smiled at the child and then Jeordi. “I promise we won’t bring you any trouble.”
I silently prayed he was right.
Chapter Sixteen
Jeordi walked back into the hut carrying a clear jug of water and two chipped mugs. Ingrid followed with a bowl of rice buried in meat and vegetable sauce. The moment the aroma met my nostrils, my mouth watered.
While Jeordi poured each of us a mug of water, Ingrid handed us spoons and lowered the bowl to the table. It seemed we’d be eating straight from it.
“We’ll find a way to repay you one day.” Owen took a swig of his water.
“Don’t worry about anything.” Ingrid sat and crossed
“Put it down, Rodell,” our captor instructed. The willowy man obeyed, sank back down. They stared at us for a moment and then went back to their cards.
The moment we came to a halt, close to an unlit fireplace, a woman exited one of the larger huts, followed by a little girl who looked about three years old. The woman was beautiful, with blonde hair in a long braid swept to one side of her neck. Around her slim figure she wore a brown wrap dress, and no shoes. The little girl was an exact replica of her. Some of the tension in my body melted away at the presence of another woman.
Be careful. Don’t forget what happened the last time you trusted another woman.
I ignored the little voice. These people could be our last shot.
I’d follow Owen’s lead. If he ended up trusting them, so would I.
“Who are these people?” the woman asked in a German accent as she hurried toward us. “Why are you pointing a gun at them?”
“I found them on the land. They say they need help.”
“And you want to help them by threatening them?” She went to stand between us and the gun, hands on her hips. The little girl ran to Rodell . He scooped her up and placed her on his lap.
Our captor lowered his gun and carried out a low conversation with the woman.
The woman dropped her hands to her sides and turned to look at us, her long eyelashes shading her dark eyes.
“My husband says you’re in danger? Is that true?”
I nodded. “My husband… He’s trying to kill me.” I wouldn’t tell them that the man we were running from might be dead—that had to wait until they trusted us enough to offer help. “He was holding me prisoner on his yacht for days. He abused me.”
“Mein Gott!!” She placed a hand on her chest. As her husband had done before, her gaze traveled up and down my body as though looking for signs of the torture.
She turned to her husband. “They don’t look dangerous to me. Follow me,” she said, turning back to us. Then she hurried away.
On instinct, my eyes went to her husband. I expected him to stop us.
“You heard her.” He swung the gun and followed his wife. The little girl disentangled herself from Rodell and ran after our captor.
They led us into one of the round huts, which looked much bigger on the inside.
“Have a seat.” The woman waved at six chairs that framed a long rectangular table with short, stumpy legs. “My name is Ingrid.” She touched the man’s arm. “This is my husband, Jeordi Lafontaine.” She stretched out her hand to shake ours. “You look like you haven’t eaten for days. Let’s get you some food, and then you can tell us exactly what happened.”
Tears clogged my throat as my hand touched hers. “My name is Chloe. We are so grateful for your help.”
Jeordi, who was looking a little friendlier than he had earlier, leaned forward and shook Owen’s hand. “You never know who to trust these days. Most strangers are not who they say they are.”
“I’m Owen. You can trust us.”
“My wife is a good judge of character. I hope she’s right about you.” He ran his fingers through the little girl’s thick curls. “This is our daughter, Anna.”
“Hello, Anna. I’m Owen.” Owen smiled at the child and then Jeordi. “I promise we won’t bring you any trouble.”
I silently prayed he was right.
Chapter Sixteen
Jeordi walked back into the hut carrying a clear jug of water and two chipped mugs. Ingrid followed with a bowl of rice buried in meat and vegetable sauce. The moment the aroma met my nostrils, my mouth watered.
While Jeordi poured each of us a mug of water, Ingrid handed us spoons and lowered the bowl to the table. It seemed we’d be eating straight from it.
“We’ll find a way to repay you one day.” Owen took a swig of his water.
“Don’t worry about anything.” Ingrid sat and crossed
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