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Chapter One

Betty Jackson woke with a gasp, and it wasn’t the first time this had happened since Grim had saved her. For several weeks she’d been held captive at the whim of a distant cousin. A cousin, Andy, whom she rarely met and when she did, she didn’t like him.

To everyone, he’d seemed like a kind, sweet, caring man. She’d known the truth, even before her Aunt Martha. She warned her aunt what kind of man he was, and at first, her aunt didn’t listen. It was only when desperation had snuck in and Andy started to show his true colors that people started to believe her.

Betty was sent on some foolish errand, only to be kidnapped and held as a hostage so Aunt Martha would give him what he wanted. She never wished ill on anyone, but when it came to Andy, she’d been glad to see him go.

Now, she was finally back in Rivermont Ridge, free and clear from any kind of danger, just the nightmares constantly holding her at bay. It had been one of the single scariest moments of her life. Andy would talk to her on the phone and threaten her every chance he got. If she didn’t behave, she’d be raped and beaten. If Martha didn’t behave, she would get the punishment. After every phone call, the man holding her captive would slap her so hard across the face, she’d feel dizzy. She didn’t know if Andy ordered that.

Her captor would force her to use the bathroom in front of him, and she had to take a shower while he watched. It was humiliating, and throughout, he would tell her how disgusting she looked, while at the same time he’d masturbate.

Betty knew they were playing mind games with her, trying to make it harder for her than it needed to be, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

Climbing out of bed, she tiptoed out of her room, down the hall, and to the stairs. She didn’t want to wake her aunt up. The past few weeks, since Grim came to rescue her, had been challenging. All her aunt wanted to do was talk about it, but she also kept asking if she was okay. Betty knew Martha wouldn’t be able to cope with the truth, so she lied.

The truth was, she wasn’t okay.

Sleeping was a problem. Many nights she was forced to sleep in a chair, or her captor would torment her and keep her awake. It was a living nightmare. If she did fall asleep, sometimes he’d wake her by throwing freezing cold water on her, or slapping her awake. It made falling asleep a challenge.

She made it to the kitchen, gripped the edge of the sink, and then quickly reached for a glass in the cupboard next to the sink. She didn’t dare look outside. There were times she was sure she could sense her captor behind her, ready to pounce, to breathe down her neck.

Drinking a full glass of water, she only felt sick as it hit her stomach, but she wiped a hand across her mouth and quickly poured herself another glass, then turned toward the kitchen. It was a large kitchen. A space she’d grown up loving, especially at her aunt’s. Her own mother, who had passed away a few years ago, hated cooking. Her mother was constantly on a diet, and Betty was never good enough, as she put on weight as a child. Her mother was always putting her on some diet or restriction. She’d been forced to eat low-carb dinners, and to exercise.

Aunt Martha had been the only one to accept her as she was. Fuller. Curvy.

Without her aunt, she knew she would have a problem with food, and in a way, she did. She ate too much of it, but she also liked to cook and bake. It was one of her favorite things to do, which is why her aunt supported her culinary endeavors. At first, when she lived in the city, she worked from bakery to diner, just to make ends meet. Every time she came to Rivermont Ridge, she’d cook up a storm for her aunt, even though she was able to afford a chef.

Betty never took any handouts. Then, one day, she came to visit Aunt Martha, only to discover the garage had been converted into a kitchen fit for filming, with all the equipment and everything she needed. Aunt Martha considered herself ahead of the times, and knew everything was online and through social media.

Betty refused to allow Martha to manipulate any publishers to accept her writing a book. This was the next best thing. She did her own cooking show, promoted it, and in the last year, it had grown amazingly well. She ended up having no choice but to include a food blog. It had been incredible.

Something like this had always been hard for her to do, as she was exceedingly shy. Her aunt believed in her, and it was why she was once again in the big city, when she’d been kidnapped. A studio executive wanted to talk to her about having her own series on one of the cooking networks. They saw her potential, and she went to audition, only it turned out to be a nightmare. Nothing worked, and she felt so bad. She fumbled her way through everything. It wasn’t her kitchen, where she could forget the cameras rolling. It all became too real, too quick. She didn’t get the job.

Then she was kidnapped, and her channel had suffered with no content for quite some time, so she was building it up again. It was hard. People moved on, she got that. There were always other cooks to watch.

She went to the freezer and pulled out a carton of ice cream. At the same time, she couldn’t help but think of Grim. He told her, whenever she felt lonely, or needed someone to talk to, he was a phone call away. Right now, she needed that phone call.

“I thought I heard you up.”

She looked up to see Aunt Martha in the doorway. Her hair was spiraled into curls, which were just peeking out behind the scarf she wrapped around her head.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Aunt Martha asked.

“No.”

“Nightmares?”

She nodded. “It’s fine. I just needed a glass of water.” She didn’t want to worry her aunt. “What are you doing up?”

“I heard you and I was worried.”

Betty quickly moved toward her aunt, to put a reassuring hand on her arm. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” She then proceeded to yawn. “I guess I am tired.” She offered a smile for her, and then Martha cupped her face.

“I love you, kid. Always have and always will.”

She accepted the kiss on her forehead, and then she carried her glass of water upstairs to her bedroom. She heard her aunt call out good night one final time, then closed her door, leaning against it.

After a few deep breaths, she padded to her bed and pulled out her cell phone from the drawer. She rarely used her cell phone. Tucking some hair behind her ear, she looked through the contacts and found Grim’s name.