When the seaplane lands next to Luther’s I run up the dock toward the house I know like the back of my hand.
The police, the fucking news crews, maybe they are rooting for this millionaire who won the right to sleep with her, but they don’t know Luther like I do. They haven’t seen him the way I have.
It’s as if after my mom died, he lost the one thing he cared about and now there’s no reason for him to grow a moral backbone. A conscience. He can’t see the difference between right and wrong, good and bad.
Pleasure and pain.
When I get to the house and see that the cops aren’t here yet—the storm must have blocked any easy access route—I make a quick plan. No way in hell am I going into that house without protection for my woman.
Luther may have done away with most of the forest of trees on the property, but I know that in the shed, there’s an ax used for chopping wood.
An ax I’ve used before and an ax I will use again. I grab it by its wooden handle, knowing that the blade is sharp enough to break through the door that’s keeping me from Justine.
I run up to the back entrance of the house knowing deep in my gut where he has brought her.
I push my way into my mother’s house, but Luther has ruined this place for me. I move through the ground floor hearing nothing but my own footsteps. My own beating heart. My own fear courses through me.
I’m not a religious man but right now all I want is to be sure that she is safe. And I will pray to whomever I need to. Please God, I think, please don’t let anything happen to Justine.
I bound up the stairs, ready to raise my fists, needing to make Luther pay.
Down the hall I run, pushing hard against the door that I remember him showing me with such pride. A room made for bondage, a room that knows nothing about a safe escape.
A soundproof room for him to do what he likes to the woman I love.
Love.
In that moment, as I push my body against the locked door, all my weight grinding against the wood-paneled entrance, I know the truth.
I would do anything for Justine.
A woman I’ve only known for a day. A woman who has changed the way I look at the world. I don’t want to close myself off if it means not having her. I don’t want to run or hide if it means not having her.
All I want.
All I need.
Is her.
I need to get into this room and I need to get into this room now.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever comes next. Knowing that if he has done something to Justine I will do something permanent to him. I grip the handle of the ax tighter as I take a wholehearted swing. My biceps flex, my heart races, my intent clear. The blade of the ax connects with the wooden door.
And there is a loud, resounding crack of the splintering wood as I pull back the blade and swing again. The only thing I care about right now is chopping down the one thing dividing me from the woman I love.
The wood is broken and now I can hear the screams of Justine.
It’s a gagged, desperate scream.
She is in trouble and Luther Morris did this to her.
Luther sees me through the broken door, his eyes those of an unhinged man. And I know my own eyes must look wild and rough and ready to avenge what he’s done.
“Get away,” he snarls at me. Sweat dripping down his face, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his eyes darting around.
When he lunges for the door as if he has the ability to keep me from coming in, I see Justine spread out on the bed.
Her panties at her ankles, her breasts bare, her fear palpable.
I push my hand through the broken door and unlock it. I kick it in, ready to kick Luther in, too.
And I do. The ax is swung over my head, I raise it with fierce determination.
“You motherfucker,” I growl. “You will pay for this, do you understand?” I shout. He’s an idiot, a fucking fool because he lunges for me with his hand outstretched as if he’s going to choke me.
I use the bottom of the ax and push it in his chest. The blow pushes him to the ground and I kick him while he is down.
Knowing Justine isn’t in imminent danger, I reach for one of the belts hanging on a wall, a belt I don’t want to imagine him using on any woman, let alone my woman.
In a swift movement that I didn’t even need to think twice about, I bind his hands. I intrinsically know what needs to be done. I lean down, looking in his beady eyes. He snarls at me. We both know his words mean nothing now.