Kept Bride: A Dark Romance (The Secret Bride Book 2), page 1
Kept Bride
The Secret Bride Series - Book Two
Alta Hensley
Copyright © 2021 by Alta Hensley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Special Thank you to my editor: Kayla Robichaux and my wonderful beta readers.
Cover Design: Jay Aheer
Dedication
To my husband. I’ll be your Kept Bride forever.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
The Secret Bride Series
Also by Alta Hensley
About the Author
Prologue
Christopher
Flames in the sky, smoke in our eyes, and blinding lights—we are no longer alone.
I thought I’d seen fear before, but nothing measures up to what I see in Ember’s eyes now. She’s trapped in a terror I can’t save her from, though I try.
“It’s okay,” I shout above the sirens of the firetrucks and the police cars. “We’re going to be okay.” Even as I repeat the words, I don’t know what “okay” looks like. “Help is here.”
I hold her hand in mine as I wave down the speeding vehicles with my other.
It becomes a blur after that. So many questions, so many people, so many curious eyes looking.
We’re emerging from the ashes, and yet it still feels as if the devil takes hold.
I keep waiting for Richard to march from the smoky landscape, take us both prisoner again, and the chain to never be removed.
I want a gun to defend myself but know there isn’t a single police officer who will give me one.
I want to run up to the burning main house with the firefighters just so I can see the corpse of the monster, known as Richard, sizzle to ash. I want to see his death with my own eyes, but I’m also aware that is not a possibility.
For now, I have to be content that we are saved.
Saved… but not necessarily safe.
Because what does safe really mean?
1
Christopher
“I don’t know how many times I have to answer the same questions,” I say, leaning back in the metal chair, feeling it dig into my achy back. “I need to see Ember.”
“Just a few more questions,” Detective Jackson says. “She’s still being questioned too, so if you can just be patient, we—”
“I’ve been patient enough,” I snap. “I told you all that I know, and I also told you that Ember has to be terrified right now. She’s not used to people, and I need to be by her side. It’s been hours, and I’m exhausted. I don’t know what more I can offer. I told you all about that psychopath, about me being chained to a goddamn wall and forced to marry his daughter. I told you every last sick detail. What more do you want from me?”
Detective Jackson looks down at his notes as if he didn’t listen to a word I said and asks, “So, this Ember woman… you said she claims she’s been there since she was a child?”
“Yes,” I say on a heavy exhale. “She’s as much a victim as I am.” I stand up, place my palms on the table, and stare down the detective. “Do I need to ask for my attorney? Because I’m starting to feel that way.”
Detective Jackson leans back in the chair and crosses his arms. “Do you feel there is a reason to have an attorney?”
“You tell me,” I say and then look at the mirror in the room, trying to see whoever is on the other side. But instead, all I see is my reflection.
Wearing clothing they give to inmates, with matching shoes, I look like a stranger. My hair is long and hangs in my face. I look like I’ve lost weight while I was losing months of my life. I suppose I should be grateful for the dry clothes they gave Ember and me when we arrived, but it only reminds me of just how much of a prison I’ve been living in.
“Just a few more questions,” Jackson pushes on.
“Unless you’re going to charge me or Ember with anything, we’re leaving. So please take me to her. Now.”
“I understand your frustration,” he says. “But the Feds just arrived and are asking Ember more questions.”
“I need to see her. I need to be with her. And like I said, unless you’re arresting us, I expect to be taken to her now.”
Ember hadn’t said a word to me since the rescue. She answered all the questions the medics asked as they tended to our wounds around our ankles caused by the chains. And although she was polite and was free with her answers, it seemed as if every syllable hurt her. I knew she hadn’t spoken to a single soul other than her father, me, and Scarecrow. I knew she had to be so scared, and to be without me had to have her even more so.
I’m hating the interrogation from the police, so I can only imagine how she must be handling it.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Detective Jackson says as he joins me in standing. “I’ll bring you to her, but only if you can stay a little bit longer to allow the Feds to get what they want.”
I know I don’t have to agree to anything, since we aren’t under arrest, but I also want to help put this nightmare to an end.
I nod and follow him out of the room and down the hall to another interrogation room.
When I enter, I see Ember looking so tiny and frail on a chair that seems to nearly swallow her up. Her wide eyes lock with mine, and her lower lip trembles the minute she sees me.
I rush to where she sits and kneel at her feet, looking up at her. “Hey,” I say softly. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave your side again.” I take her hand, which is cold from the chill in the air of the sterile room. “Are you doing all right?”
Her eyes dart to the man in front of her and then to me. She nods. “They keep asking me about Papa Rich and Scarecrow, and—”
“I know,” I interrupt as I get up and take the seat next to her. “It’s almost over.” I look directly into the men’s eyes as they sit across from us. “Correct? Do you have what you need?”
The man looks at Detective Jackson, who motions for him to join him outside. As the two men leave the room, I position my body so I can look at Ember head-on.
Taking both her hands into mine, I say, “We’re going to get out of here soon. I promise.”
“And then what? Where will we go?” she asks, which makes sense. The only home she has ever known has just burned to the ground.
“I called my mother,” I begin. “After nearly causing the woman to have a stroke from hearing from her dead son, I made arrangements.”
Ember shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Arrangements?”
“My mother is in Palm Springs with some of her friends for a vacation. Hearing that we’re here… alive… she chartered a private plane so we can get back to New York as fast as possible. She’s on her way now to pick us up.”
“New York?”
“That’s where I live, remember?” I prompt softly, understanding this has to be a lot for Ember to take in. “It’s where we will both live now.”
Her hands shake in mine, and all I want to do is sweep her up into my arms, get her as far away from Nevada and Hallelujah Junction as I can, and never speak of Papa Rich and this hell ever again. But as the detectives reenter the room, I know I can’t have everything right away.
“If you don’t mind, we have a couple more questions,” Detective Jackson says. “This is Federal Agent Martinez.”
“Go ahead,” I say, deciding I will answer all the questions I can to avoid them from asking Ember. I can feel in my gut that the poor girl is reaching her max on what she can take.
“So, there are some things you both have said that don’t exactly add up. You said you saw this Papa Rich run into the burning house?” Agent Martinez asks.
“Yes,” I say as I squeeze Ember’s hand in reassurance that I have this handled. “I think we’ve both told you this multiple times.”
“No body was discovered in the house,” Martinez tells us. “In fact, no bodies have been discovered anywhere in the structures.
I feel Ember’s hand go limp in mine. The gut-punching news has me swallowing hard but not wanting to believe the words.
“We saw him go inside,” I say. “The house was engulfed in flames.”
“But you also both say you continued running and never looked back. Neither of you know if he left the house or not. Correct?”
“Papa Rich is alive?” Ember’s shaky voice cuts in. A single t
Martinez and Jackson both glare at Ember. “You said you don’t know where his friend ‘Scarecrow’ lives. Are you sure you’ve never visited or heard any details that could help us track this fellow down?”
Ember shakes her head. “He always came to us, or Papa Rich went to him without me. I know he’s in the hills somewhere, and it’s not exactly close. It takes all day to go back and forth from his home to Hallelujah Junction.”
“Did either of you see Scarecrow during the fire?”
“No,” I answer. “Are you telling us that you think Richard is still alive? Maybe hiding out with Scarecrow?”
“We’re exploring all possibilities right now. All we know is there are no signs of Richard dying in the fire like you both claim.”
Ember gasps and looks at me with renewed terror in her eyes. “He’s going to find us. He’s going to punish us. He won’t give up until he does.”
I run my hand over the side of her head, caressing her soft blonde locks. “Shh,” I try to soothe. “He’s not going to be able to find us. And if he’s alive—if—then these men right here are going to find him and lock him away for life.” I continue stroking her hair, trying to pet her anxiety away. “We’re safe now. I promise you. We’re safe.”
I glare at the men, pissed that they are only adding to Ember’s fear. “If he’s not dead, find the sick asshole. You’re both wasting time by asking us the same questions over and over.”
Detective Jackson looks down at his notes and papers. “Ember, we also looked into the report you gave about how Papa Rich found you and brought you to Hallelujah Junction. The story of being picked up in a nearby town and rescuing you from your mother. We went back and looked up if there were any reports of kidnapping around that time, which there weren’t necessarily. But there are records of a young girl who Child Protective Services visited in the area who suddenly turned up missing with no notice from the mother or forwarding address. The child’s name was Amber Jennings. Amber… not Ember.” He takes a moment for the words to sink in. “We believe Amber Jennings is you.” He pushes a file toward us. “There’s a picture in there. It looks like a younger version of you.”
Ember opens the file and stares down at a picture that no doubt is of her as a five-year-old. You can see the familiarity in the eyes. Such big, blue, and haunted eyes.
“Amber?” she questions more to herself than anyone else. “No, my name is Ember.”
“Is that picture you?”
She nods. “But my name is Ember. Not Amber.”
“Maybe now… but you were once Amber Jennings.”
Tears fill her eyes, and she asks, “What about my mother? Will she know where I am now? Papa Rich told me that she’d kill me if she ever found where I was.”
I reach over and close the file, feeling as if this is all too much for her. “It doesn’t matter. You’re Ember now. And you’re safe. The past is the past. Your mother can’t hurt you. No one can hurt you.”
“We pulled up information on your mother, and I’m sorry to say—or maybe in your case, happy to inform you—she died thirteen years ago.”
“Thirteen?” Ember parrots, and without even having to hear the words, I know what she’s thinking. She’s been safe for thirteen years from all the horror stories Papa Rich told her about her mother coming to hurt her if she ever discovered her location. She could have left the walls of the schoolhouse living as the ghost of Hallelujah Junction had she known the woman didn’t exist anymore.
“We’ve also pulled up every report of missing people who have visited Hallelujah Junction with the belief that their cause of death is due to the acid pit and the old mill,” Agent Martinez says. “We have found a report for a couple who matches your description of the victims you witnessed pushed into the pit.” He slides over the paper with their photos on it. “Are these the people you encountered?”
I glance down and nod as I rub Ember’s back. On the surface, Ember is holding it together. And maybe she is. But I can’t help but feel we are walking a very dangerous tightrope, and she’s about to come crashing down any second.
“We weren’t aware they went to Hallelujah Junction,” Detective Jackson says.
“They were trying to help us,” Ember murmurs.
“As for the others,” Martinez continues, “Ember, did you help your father kill those people?”
I stand up and hit my hand on the table. “That’s enough! Unless you both plan to charge Ember or me with anything, we are leaving. We’ve been here voluntarily for long enough. My wife and I have nothing left to say unless a lawyer is present.”
Ember reaches for my arm and gently pulls me down. “It’s okay, Christopher. I don’t mind answering.” She looks at the detective and agent. “All I know is I didn’t stop it.”
“You couldn’t stop it,” I boom.
“And I will have to live with that and their deaths for the rest of my life,” she adds.
“The man was sick!” I shout, but then lower my voice to add, “More than you can imagine. He kidnapped and had me locked in a cellar. Chained to a wall like a rabid dog. I watched as he killed that couple with zero remorse, and there was nothing I, or Ember, could do to stop it. There is absolutely no way Ember had anything to do with those deaths. Not at all. And I’m not going to sit here with my wife and allow this conversation to go in that direction. Are we clear?”
Rather than answering my demand of a question, Martinez asks, “If your father were to run and hide somewhere, where do you think he’d go? Other than this Scarecrow man, does he have any other family or friends?”
Ember shakes her head with a deep sadness in her eyes. “We had no one. We were alone. We only had each other.”
“And where do you both plan to go now? If we have any more questions.” Agent Martinez looks at us with zero emotion in his eyes. I want to punch the fucker. We just went through this awful ordeal, and he has the nerve to accuse us and question us.
“We’ll be heading home. New York.”
“I’d rather you stay in town,” Detective Jackson pipes in. “In case we have any further—”
“We’ll be flying out within the hour,” I interrupt. “Unless I need to call my lawyer, that is.”
Agent Martinez stands up, and Detective Jackson follows. Agent Martinez glances at Ember, then at me and says, “That’s all for now. I’ll be in contact if we have any further questions.”
“Mr. Martinez,” Ember calls to him as he begins to walk out of the room.
He turns to face her but doesn’t answer.
“Is it possible for me to have that photo of me as a child? I don’t have any photos. I don’t have anything.”
I am prepared to lunge for the man and rip the file with her photo right out of his hands if I have to, but luckily, he nods and hands it to her.
“Thank you,” she says as she stares down at the picture I’m sure she doesn’t truly even recognize.
My heart breaks for what Ember must be feeling. In a matter of hours, she has lost everything. She’s been told her mother, who she has feared her entire life, is dead. She’s also been told that the father she was forced to live with in captivity could now possibly be alive.
Her eyes remain on the photo as she says, “I’ve never been on a plane before.”
The number of firsts coming up for her are sure to be staggering. All I can do is try to help her muddle through them.
“Well, the good news is, my mother insisted on a private jet, so we won’t have to deal with all the crowds. It will be more comfortable too. We can have something to eat on the plane and get some sleep. You look tired.” I know I sure as hell am.
