by Hamel, B. B.
She nods and turns away. I stare at her plump ass walk down the hall, hips swaying. Once she disappears behind her door, I walk back into the kitchen and growl softly to myself.
Fucking hell. I haven’t had a girl like her in a while.
I pour myself another whiskey and knock it back.
Fish is gonna be a problem, I can already tell. Guys like him aren’t happy with letting guys like me off the hook. You find a decent killer, you keep him around and working for you. It’s just good business sense.
My last job might not be the last. And with Allie in the picture, well…
Things are past complicated now.
3
Allie
I actually manage to get some sleep, despite the fear and adrenaline coursing through my body. As soon as I curl up under the covers on the unfamiliar bed in the strange, terrifying room, I almost instantly pass out and drop into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I wake up early. It’s a little past six and the sun’s barely coming up when I sit up and look around the room, taking stock of my surroundings.
I don’t remember much about how we got here last night. I know he drove us in his truck but the route he took seemed winding and long. We’re definitely outside of Pine Grove, but I don’t think we’re too far away. I know this area better than he probably realizes. Most people that live in Pine Grove are outsiders, but my family is one of the few that’s been here for generations. I know these hills better than anyone else.
I slip out of bed and find my bag. I grab some socks and shoes, a pair of comfortable jogging pants, and a long sleeve shirt. I slip it all on, trying to look casual, but ready to move at a moment’s notice. When I’m dressed, I search the room one more time.
It’s pretty much empty. Some linens are in the closet. There’s a nightstand and a dresser, but they’re both empty. The walls have generic art prints hanging, like someone just went to a thrift shop and grabbed the first things they saw. Heck, maybe that’s what he did.
I slip out of the room and find a bathroom one door down. I use it, cleaning my hands and splashing water on my face when I’m done, and head back out toward the kitchen.
I don’t know what I’m expecting, but it’s definitely not Rowan standing in front of the stove wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, his hair tussled from sleep, a spatula in his hand.
He half turns when he hears me. “Morning,” he grunts at me.
I’m struck again at how attractive the man is. He’s lean and muscular with an impressively chiseled and athletic body. There are tattoos along his chest and arms along with more than a few scars, some of them pretty nasty. He gives me a charming smile and holds up the spatula.
“Hungry?” he asks.
Warily, I sit down at the counter and watch him. “I guess.”
“Good. Making bacon and eggs. Coffee’s ready if you want some.”
“Are you always up this early?”
“Yep,” he says. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m not much of a sleeper.”
I file that away just in case I need it. “I didn’t think I’d sleep, but I did.” The words feel stupid as soon as they leave my lips.
But he just nods. “You’d be surprised what shock can do to a person. I’m glad you slept it off, though. Head feeling clearer today?”
I frown down at the countertop, mind running back to the night before. He’s right, I was in a fog, and I am much clearer today. What happened is still blurry, like my brain’s trying to censor it for me, but it’s all still there, still happening in the past, over and over again.
“Yeah,” I say softly.
He watches me silently before turning back to the stove.
I let him cook in silence. When he finishes the bacon, he places it on a paper towel and pours me a mug of coffee. He puts the coffee in front of me wordlessly before turning back to the eggs. I sip it black even though I normally douse it in sugar and milk. I just can’t bring myself to ask him for something like that right now.
This is my father’s killer. I should hate him. I look around the room and spot a knife block nearby. I could get up and grab one. I bet I could stab him before he could stop me. He’d deserve it, the murdering bastard.
But I don’t want to kill him. I mean, I’m not a violent person by nature, but I don’t even want to hurt him. I’m not really that angry about him killing my father, if I’m totally honest.
I’m angrier about him taking me away from my home.
I’m angry with myself for letting him. I shouldn’t have left, even if it meant staying there in that place with my father’s dead body slowly cooling nearby. I would’ve left in the morning, but if he had let me stayed, I could’ve at least had a chance.
My father used to tell me a story about my great-grandfather. He was the last one in our family to have the family fortune and apparently he spent it all on booze and drugs, which sounds about right, given how my dad acted. But he’d tell me that my great-grandfather buried gold on the property, the last of the Martin family fortune, buried somewhere just waiting for us to find it. He told me that story when I was a little girl and I spent hours dreaming about what I’d do if I found that gold. We’d be rich and happy and my parents wouldn’t hate each other and I could buy anything I wanted.
Life would be good again.
But Rowan ripped me from my house before I could even try to dig. I’ve searched a few times over the years and even have a pretty good idea of where it might be, but I never actually dug anything up. Mostly because I was afraid that my father might beat me, but also because I was afraid I might not find anything.
Now though, now I have nothing left to lose. All those stories have to be true, or at least there has to be some grain of truth to them.
And I need to get back there and find it.
Rowan finishes cooking breakfast and slides a plate in front of me before making himself a plate and sitting down at the table. I hesitate before joining him, watching him warily as he eats.
I don’t know this man. I don’t know anything about him. The only thing I do know is that he murdered my father but he didn’t kill me. That has to say something about him although I don’t know what yet.
“You should eat,” he grunts without looking up. “And stop staring at me.”
I blush a little bit. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t have to apologize. I know I’m nice to look at.”
I frown and blush even more. “That’s not it. I was just wondering what kind of man kills people like that.”
He keeps eating like I asked him about the weather instead of about murdering. I stare at my plate instead of at him although I’m itching to look up. It takes all my willpower to stay under control.
“It’s a long story,” he says finally. “But your dad was supposed to be my last.”
“It’s not going to be?” I ask, heart beating quick.
He looks up at me. “Not you, so relax. Someone else.”
“How do you know? The man last night told you?”
He sighs. “Not exactly. The guy I actually work for isn’t the type to forgive and forget so easily, and he’s not happy about how I left the scene last night. I’m betting he’ll push for more.”
“If you don’t want to kill… why keep doing it?”
He stares at me, face blank. I shy away from him, fear jolting my heart.
“You ask a lot of questions,” he says finally. “Eat your food.”
I look away from him, back down at my plate. I hear him go back to shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth and we sit like that in silence for a few minutes before he finishes.
He gets up and rinses of his plate, dropping it into the dishwasher. He turns to me and I can feel his eyes staring at me for what feels like an hour, but is probably just a few seconds.
“Look,” he says finally. “I can’t sit around here all day babysitting you. So let’s make a deal.”
I turn to him, frowning a little bit. “What do you mean, a deal?”
I blink in surprise. “You’d do that?”
He snorts. “Sure. Why not?”
“That’s awful.”
“You wouldn’t run that way.” He stares at me coolly. “Well?”
“Fine,” I say. “We have a deal.”
He nods slowly. “I know you’re probably lying. I know you’ll try and run. But listen to me carefully, that’s a very bad idea.”
I stare at him but I don’t say a word. He’s right, I am lying, but I’m not about to admit that to him.
He sighs again and shakes his head. “Fucking hell,” he grumbles as he disappears back into his bedroom.
While he’s gone, I take a few bites of food. Turns out I am pretty freaking hungry but I just didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of me eating. When I hear him coming back, I quickly finish up and act like I hadn’t just shoved an entire plate of food into my mouth in two minutes.
He doesn’t seem to notice my empty plate though. He’s wearing a dark jacket, dark jeans, and a gray t-shirt. He stops near the front door and looks at me.
“Just don’t be stupid,” he says finally before opening the door and leaving without another word.
I sit there, completely alone in this house, and the first thing I can think of is taking a shower.
I know, it’s insane. My father’s killer just left and I can walk out that door whenever I want to. But right now, I feel so filthy and disgusting and god, I just need to stand under the hot water for ten minutes and think about what I’m going to do.
And so I strip down, get into the shower, and let the water run down my face as I close my eyes and picture my captor’s hands all over my body.
* * *
It takes me all day to get back to town.
Before I left, I searched through the house. I didn’t find anything too useful, unfortunately. I grabbed a bag and shoved a flashlight, that rope he used on me, some water bottles, some granola bars I found in the back of the cupboard, and some spare clothes into it. I tossed it over my back and head out his front door, walking fast down the gravel driveway.
It was pretty easy to get back into town from there, but it took forever. I stayed away from the road because I didn’t want him to spot me, which meant I had to walk through the rocky and overgrown underbrush along the edge of the tree line. That slowed me down a lot and I tripped a couple times just from daydreaming about what the bastard might do to me if I get caught.
I guess it doesn’t matter. If I get caught, I’m finished. I know this is my only chance and I’m squandering it like a moron.
It took me hours and hours and by the time I finally reach the house, the sun’s starting to set. I don’t bother with the flashlight yet, though, and I avoid going inside.
Instead, I head over to one of the outbuildings, a little shed that’s practically falling apart. I grab an old shovel that’s propped up in one corner before heading out along onto the property.
I get hit with a big wave of nostalgia as I walk along an old crumbling stone wall that’s covered in moss and leaves and vines. I used to walk along the top of this wall when I was a little girl, laughing and playing, not a care in the world. I was invincible back then.
This farm was my playground. I explored every single inch of it, top to bottom and front to back. I know it better than anyone, my father included, although I guess I’m the only one that knows it now since he’s dead. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and I glance back at the house. He’s probably still in there, lying cold on the floor, his brains scattered all over the living room.
I force myself forward. The wall ends near a hedgerow and a huge oak tree. I stop at the base of the oak and force the shovel into the soft earth.
I dig for hours. I start around the oak but I don’t find anything at all. I move on to an old well not too far off before giving up and heading over to a crumbling barn. I have to turn my flashlight on and dig by its light, pulling back rotted floorboards and shoveling mounds of dirt into the corner of the building.
I can hear owls in the rafters and mice scuttling along the corners but I keep going. The night’s pretty cold and I’ve been out here for an entire day now, either walking or shoveling. I’m physically exhausted but I only stop long enough to drink some water and eat some granola bars.
I’m in a desperate frenzy. I feel insane really, digging for gold that can’t really exist. If it did, my father would’ve dug it up a long time ago and gambled it all away. But I can’t help myself. I keep thinking back to when I was a little girl and picturing all the things I could do with that money. I keep seeing how my life could change and get better and I keep digging through the exhaustion.
I hear the noise just as I decide to give up on my current hole and try somewhere else. It’s a bang and a creak and I stand completely still. My first thought is that my father’s about to catch me ruining this ancient barn even though the structure is basically rotted away at this point. But that makes no sense, since my father’s dead.
“Guess you lied.”
I cringe away from the darkness. I grab the flashlight and point it out from me, waving it around, trying to find the source of the voice.
It takes me a second to spot him. Rowan leans against the frame of the door, although the door itself is long gone at this point.
“Please,” I say, the word coming out half strangled.
He walks over toward me, still wearing the same outfit from earlier. He looks tired but he doesn’t look angry.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Please,” I say again, not sure what else to do. “I had to.”
He holds up his hands. “Relax,” he says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You said…” I trail off, trying to remember what he said.
“I knew you’d make a break for it,” he says. “I figured I’d let you get a taste of life alone for the day. I’ve been following you and I gotta admit, I didn’t expect this.” He nods to the holes I’ve torn in the old barn floor.
I follow his gaze. “I have to keep digging,” I say and my voice barely feels like my own.
“You’re still in shock,” he says gently.
“My dad, he told me a story about the gold my great-grandfather buried here. I need to find it.”
Rowan makes a grunting sound and stops a few feet away from me, crossing his arms. “You’re digging for gold,” he says flatly.
“I know it sounds stupid but, please,” I say quickly, almost pleading with him. “My family used to be rich but we lost it all a long time ago, this is supposed to be the last of it.”
He watches me carefully. “Why do you think it would still be here?”
“It has to be.”
“Your father would’ve found it by now.”
“He was a drunk.”
“Which means he was desperate.”
“He was stupid. He was an asshole.”
“He was desperate,” he repeats gently. “If the gold story were even remotely real, do you think he wouldn’t have tried to dig up this entire farm?”
I bite my lip and I could feel tears in my eyes. “Please,” I say.
“Did you even see him digging? Even once? If he thought he could find gold, he would’ve dug day and fucking night until he found it.”
“I never saw him dig,” I say softly and let the shovel slip from my fingers. “Oh, god. He’s dead.”
I lean back against the wall and slowly slump down to the floor. I bury my head in my hands and stay there, not crying, not moving, not feeling much of anything.
Slowly I come back to myself. I can see how insane this is. Coming back here to dig for gold is absolutely insane. Of course the gold was never real. It was just a story my dad told me when I was a little girl to make me happy. Of course it was never real. Rowan’s right, if it has any truth to it, my father would’ve ripped this farm up from the roots to try and f
ind it.
He crouches down a few feet away and stays silent as I sit there, head whirling, fear and horror running through me.
I’m alone in this world. I have no parents anymore. I have no education, just a high school diploma. I have no money, no job, no real close friends, no car, no nothing. I have nothing at all and I’m completely alone.
That’s when the tears finally take me.
I don’t know how long I cry. Rowan stays there crouching a few feet away but he doesn’t speak and he doesn’t try to comfort me. I cry until I can’t cry anymore and when I’m through, I wipe the tears from my eyes on my dirty sleeve.
“I get what you’re feeling,” he says gently when I’m done.
“You don’t know shit,” I snap at him.
He frowns a little bit. “Not exactly this but something like it happened to me a long time ago.”
I bite my lip. “You did this to me.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else. And I bet someone else would’ve killed you too.”
I glare at him. “So I should thank you? Oh, thanks for killing my dad.”
He smiles slightly and I’m struck at how handsome he is all over again.
“Allie, listen to me. Your father got himself killed. Was he such a good guy that it surprises you?”
I shake my head slowly. “He was an abusive piece of shit.”
Rowan nods once and stands up. “That I’m sorry about. I wish someone had killed him sooner.”
I stare up at him. “You’re an asshole,” I say.
“No. Your dad was a fucking asshole. He beat you for no reason. You think you deserved that?” He steps toward me.
I shake my head. “I didn’t deserve it.”
“Damn right you didn’t. But you know what? Your dad deserved what he got. Hell, he fucking worked for it. He earned it.”
Rowan stops right in front of me and stares down into my eyes.
“You didn’t deserve it,” he says gently. “You didn’t deserve seeing him get killed and you don’t deserve this. But I promise I’ll take care of you and get you back up on your feet as soon as I can. Shit, it’s the least I can do.”