30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter thirty
Madelyn
Gateley was wrong. Jackson hasn't said a word to me since he came back. He hasn't touched me and will barely look at me. Even now, as prepare to meet Oliver, he keeps his eyes focused on the road.
Apparently, his painting was merely a mural, his ode to my death more than a confession of his feelings for me.
I wrap my arms around myself to prevent any trembling movements. I will not let that asshole have the satisfaction of thinking I'm terrified.
This morning, he jerked me awake and tossed a pair of jeans and a blue sweater in my direction.
He barely allotted me time for a quick shower.
However, I noticed Jackson had one himself at some point.
New clothes appeared on his body. A black t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
The fabric fits him in all the right places.
This doesn’t take away from the fact that hours went by last night and he did not come back. Eventually, I fell asleep, concluding that Gateley was blowing smoke up my ass. Probably for his own amusement.
Now, as I look at Jackson, he does not show me any sign that he will spare my life. Any attempt at communication fails as soon as I ask him anything.
Jackson grips the wheel of a shiny new car, sliding a look in my direction. I suspect he's admiring the freshly sealed pair of eyeballs that now dangle from my mirror-compliments of Gateley’s hired men. Not to mention the automatic windows and leather seats this car offers.
I was hoping they would get tossed out, but it seems Jackson intends on displaying them forever. I narrow my eyes at him and wonder what, if anything, of me he intends to keep.
The bastard. If he thinks I'll just go down without a fight, he's mistaken. Like I would just allow him to murder me without a second thought... that’s probably why he's so quiet... he's scheming on how to take me out.
But I have my own plan. When Jackson is busy with Oliver, I will take my leave.
Into the woods, I'll go with hopefully a phone in hand.
Jackson should be so busy with Oliver's torture; he will have a lapse of judgement about my whereabouts.
And if that doesn't work, I'll just have to take Jackson out myself by any means possible.
I look out the window and watch tree after tree go by.
The weather is better today with only a slight cool breeze.
The clouds move quickly across the sky, not allowing much of the sun to appear.
“Where are we going?” I ask to once again get him talking.
His jaw clenches, the only reaction I receive.
“Stop ignoring me, Jackson. Where are we going?” I say a bit louder.
I’m met with silence for several minutes until Jackson shakes his head. “You know what we are doing. The location doesn’t matter.” Jackson murmurs so quietly I almost didn't hear him.
My breath catches. Finally, some words. “It does matter.” I try again. If he would just tell me the location, I might know it and could formulate an even better plan.
“You'll be finding out in about ten more minutes, so stop trying to weasel information out of me, little fire. “
My stomach turns. I'm running out of time, and my delusions have caught up with me. Soon, I will have to come face to face with the evil of my childhood and my impending doom. Now that it’s so close, I’m finding it even harder to breathe.
To realize that maybe I’m not getting out of this.
I'm not sure why I thought I could change his mind.
A girl like me could never make a villain see reason.
“Does calling me that nickname make it easier for you to forget I'm human? Does it make it easier for you to kill me?”
His foot presses down on the accelerator, increasing the speed to over seventy miles an hour. The car jolts ahead as he mutters something incoherent.
Jackson is so pressed to get rid of me, he's pushing the car to the limit. My hand grips the door handle, and for a second, I consider jumping out. But escaping out of a moving vehicle alongside the road is just another way I'd end up dying.
“Don’t.” Jackson's hand slips behind my back and pulls on my waist. My body slides closer to him, almost on top of the center console.
Electricity surrounds us, and I feel like the charge may shock me at any moment.
Even now, I want him. My sore pussy needs him.
And that's the stupidest shit I've ever confessed.
“Madelyn.” I say outbound. If he refuses to say my name, I will. “Not little fire. Madelyn.” Forget the fact that my body calls to him. Forget the idea of being with this man. Focus on surviving, I demand of myself. Using my real name obviously makes an impact. “Say it with me. MA DE LYN.”
Jackson hits the blinker. “Little fire,” he replies, tone deadpan. The car turns to the right and exits the highway.
“Madelyn.” I repeat again.
“Little fire.”
“MADELYN.”
His fingers dig into my hips. “Little Fire,” he says.
I shake my head and attempt to pull his hand away from me.
“Do I need to spell it out? M a d e l y n. Your turn.” I know at this point I'm just poking the bear, but his indignation at not calling me by my name, even though he's so inclined to take my life, pisses me off.
I will give myself the recognition I deserve until my last breath.
The car takes a left into a canopy of trees. It is only then that I realize we are back to the fishing hole and the cliffs we visited before. He must have gone another route because this one is dirt and very worn with dips and holes. Still, I recognize the lake and where the old man was fishing.
Jackson studies me; the corners of his lips curve into a smile.
“Little fire, I commend you for your ongoing ability to press my buttons even in the face of death. However, even that behavior gets old.” He fishes his phone out of his jean pocket and checks it.
A series of texts appear on the screen, in which one reads, "She's mine. I got the money. "
He taps the phone screen a few times and returns it to its prior location.
I force myself to swallow, already sensing my panic rising. I’m not so sure I can face Oliver, even if I know he’s going to die. “Don't do this. Turn around." I tug on his arm. “Please.”
He shrugs me off and continues forcing my car over the bumps on the path. “It's too late. I have to. “
“Coward,” I mutter before thinking better of it. But if he heard me. He didn’t give any indication. Maybe he's just decided to let me have this one thing: the announcement of just what I think of him at this moment.
We drive past the lake toward an area of four log cabins.
The area is empty of people, which I find strange, considering that is a nicer day for Minnesota fall standards.
All the snow and ice have melted, though it won't be long until flakes will start falling again. That’s just how it is this time of year.
The car screeches to a halt, and Jackson puts the transmission in park. As if reading my mind, Jackson chimes in, “All the cabins have been rented by me, and while I was doing the booking, the park’s website got updated. It was quite easy to state that the park is closed for maintenance.”
“How.... awfully…convenient,” I stutter. He's made this entire process easy. For himself.
Jackson smirks, eyes swimming, and reaches for me. His fingers trace along my lips. “So, no one will hear either of you scream.”
My stomach flips at his touch. At how cold he can be. “Oliver will come at me.
“That’s alright.” His hand drops from my face to grab an enormous duffel bag Gateley had handed him on our way out. “I have it handled.”
I'm sure he does, which is why I stated what I did about Oliver. Who knows what's in that bag. I'm hoping to find out.
The car door opens as Jackson steps outside, bag in tow. “If he brings anyone with him, I'll shoot them.” He doesn’t shut the door. Instead, he holds it open. “Out,” he orders.
I consider my options. 1) Refuse to get out of the vehicle, therefore causing issues before Oliver gets here. 2) Get out and make a run for it, potentially taking a bullet in the process. 3) Do what he says and wait for a better opportunity.
Jackson raises his eyebrows at me and grips the handle of the bag. “I'll come in and drag you out if need be.”
I know he's not lying. Begrudgingly, I slide across the car and crawl out. As soon as my feet touch the ground, Jackson grabs me by the nape. “We are going to cabin number two,” he states while already forcing me in that direction.
My feet drag across the dirt path as we continue toward the cabin. While Jackson stated we were going to cabin two, there are three other cabins in this area, all identical. A couple of picnic tables sit in the middle of the property, as well as a wooden box that’s labeled firewood.
We reach the door, and my heart flutters against my chest. Jackson leans closer and fiddles with the lock code on the door. The lock dings a signal of acceptance, and the door swings open.
My hands grab the doorframe to not go inside.
It doesn't matter, though. Jackson pushes me through with little effort.
Sweat forms on my brow from the effort, but also because my nerves are getting the best of me.
I simply do not want to die. But in some ways, I am curious about how all this will play out with Oliver, especially because I know he's going to meet the same fate as me.
I just want to see him suffer. As bad as that sounds.
The door shuts with a click just as Jackson tosses the bag onto the floor. It lands with a thud at Jackson's feet. “Oliver will be here any minute. I want you to stay put. Don't engage unless I say.”
I take a moment to take in the room. There's a small kitchen with a sink, microwave, and mini fridge in the corner, a bathroom in the back part of the cabin, and a bed opposite the kitchen. Tiny but efficient. But also, no additional doors to escape from. And to top it off, there are only two windows and a lock that’s activated by a pin or code.
Both windows are close to the front door.
“You promised me I would get to speak to him,” I remind my captor.
Even through my fear, this is the only way I can accept the past. If I can muster up the strength to speak, then his power and hold on me will lessen.
Jackson comes forward and pats my head, something he's never done before. “I'm not sure you can handle that.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I cross my arms. “You don't know what I'm capable of or what I can handle. This is not up to you.”
Jackson studies me, eyes focusing on mine. A certain sadness appears there before he masks it. “You're right. I do not know how you will handle him.” He sighs. “Fine. After I've discussed business with him, you can have some time to do what you want with him.”
“I just want answers.”
“Then you will get them. It's the least I can do.” Suddenly, his finger traces alongside my cheek and swipes a tear that I didn't realize had formed. My eyes close involuntarily at his touch. I want to believe he won't actually go through with killing me, but I just can’t. It's simply not smart.
“There's more that you can do,” I remind him.
“I know.” He moves his fingers through his hair. “Will you forgive me? “
“Will...I... forgive you?” I say slowly, not believing the question.
“Yes.”
“Forgive you for taking my life?” I ask just to make sure I'm understanding.
His fingers tap against his thigh. “Yes,” he repeats but this time with less patience.
“Then...no, I will not. I'll go to the grave, revengeful.” I reply and mean it. Not only could he have prevented this in the first place, but Jackson could also take my word that I wouldn’t tell a soul about him. Or he could admit he has feelings for me but refuses to.
The corners of his mouth shift upward as if he's trying to hold back a laugh. “I believe you. Little fire. I'm glad even now, your spunk hasn't left you.”
“I’m about to come face to face with a man I've been running from for years.
A man who took my innocence at my mom's funeral.” I cross my arms. “Then after that, the man who captured me, who showed me an unknown part of myself, and dared to make me feel something for him is going to kill me. I have nothing left but spunk.”
“You feel...?” Jackson murmurs before stopping himself.
The sound of a car approaching breaks his attention.
We both go toward the front windows. Me on the right side, Jackson on the left.
A new black Jeep with tinted windows creeps toward our cabin.
A knot in the pit of my stomach forms. He's here.
I keep watching to see if any more vehicles approach, but it appears there's only the jeep.
It passes by the lake, and that's when I notice that it now has an occupant.
It appears the old man is back. Fishing in the same spot as before, but this time staring right at the cabin.
I wonder if he recognizes us is the people that stole his lunch.
More importantly, he could be a witness and someone that Jackson will take down.
I glance in Jackson's direction. He's no longer at the window but digging in his bag. And his hand comes out with my knife and one of the guns he’s gained on our adventures.
He looks back at the window and then at me.
“I've already told you once, but just to reiterate.
Stay here. I'm going to meet him outside so that I can search his vehicle before bringing him in.”
My lungs struggle to take in air. He's really here.
“Nod if you understand,” Jackson orders. “Don't run.”
Run? My feet feel like they are in concrete. A cold sweat breaks out over my body. I shake my head yes, that I understand. Panic is setting in, but I'm not sure he notices.
“Good.” Jackson nods in approval before opening the door and walking out of it.