Untamed

by Jessica Sorensen

  I leap from the bed, my mind racing a million miles a minute. This is all wrong. I’m still being punished—tested—to see if I’ll spill more secrets. “I won’t tell you anything.” I tug my fingers through my hair, yanking at the roots. I never should have opened my mouth. Ever. I’m going to end up like Ellis, buried in the basement, never to be found.

  But maybe that’s what I deserve for all the sins I’ve committed.

  “Shit,” the detective curses, jumping to his feet. “Emery, please calm down. This isn’t what you think it is.”

  My head whips in his direction. “How could you possibly know what I think this is?”

  His hands are in front of him as he approaches me like a skittish cat. “Because I know who your father is… know some of the stuff that’s been done to you. You’ve been hurt. A lot. But you need to understand that I’m not here to hurt you. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  For every step he takes toward me, I counter his movement, backing myself toward the door. “How could you possibly know anything about me unless you work for my father? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You’ve never told anyone what’s happened to you before? No one at all?” His pressing gaze conveys insinuation.

  Ryler. My lips remained sealed, even though I think the detective might already know the answer to his question.

  He blows out a frustrated breath. “How can I get you to trust me? Tell me what I need to do, because I really want to earn your trust, Emery.”

  I bite at my fingernails, glancing around the room. Trust. I’ve only vaguely trusted one person in my entire life. “I want… I want to talk to Ryler. Do you… Do you know who he is?”

  He warily nods. “Of course I know who he is.”

  “Good. Can you tell him to come here?” My gaze lands on the phone on the nightstand. “Or better yet, give me my phone and I’ll text him. He’s the only one I feel like I can trust right now.”

  “I can’t give you your phone just yet.”

  My gaze lands on him again. “Why not?”

  He scratches the top of his head and then sighs. “Because Ryler works for me, and if he has any contact with you at the moment, he’s going to end up dead.”

  Chapter 17

  My Salvation

  Emery

  A panic attack hits me like a ravenous storm. The clouds roll over me in the snap of a finger and adrenaline drowns me and soaks me to the bone. I collapse to the floor and land on my knees, the carpet scraping at my skin.

  All this time, he was a lie.

  Just like I always wondered.

  Yet, he wasn’t the lie I thought.

  He was the opposite.

  And now I have no idea how to feel.

  Not a damn clue.

  I want to be angry.

  But I can’t find the anger inside me.

  All I feel is relief.

  “What do you mean he works for you?” I whisper through my gasps. If I don’t get myself under control, I’m going to black out. “Ryler works for my father… He works for Donny.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” The detective crouches in front of me and levels his gaze with mine. “He’s worked for me as an informant even before he came to Laramie. He’s been trying to find the location of Donny Elderman’s warehouse so we can bring Donny down.”

  I slump back against the dresser and hug my knees to my chest. Breathe in. Breathe out. “That’s what this is about? Bringing Donny’s warehouse down?”

  “It’s part of it.” He sits down on the floor, crisscrossing his legs. “I think you know how bad of a man Donny is. If we were able to find him and arrest him, all the stuff that goes on in those warehouses would end.”

  I shake my head and give him a really look. “You can’t possibly believe that. His men would continue his work even if he is gone. He’d probably get off easy, too, with all the connections he has.

  “He’d continue all his drug experiments. No matter what, his business would remain and innocent people would continue being test subjects for his drugs experiments.”

  “Some of that might be true, but it might not. And in the process of arresting Elderman, we’d have a chance to detain a lot of his men,” he says, resting back on his hands. “Those warehouses—that town you lived in—would be gone.”

  I elevate my chin and hold his gaze. “So that’s what this is about? Finding the town? The grown man everyone fears?”

  “Not everyone fears him,” he replies. “Otherwise, no one would be after him.”

  “That’s not true. Everyone fears him in their own way. And fear grows in the dirt of that town, soak the air, are engrained into the minds of every single person who resides there. That’s how a place like that exists. Without fear, the society would crumble.”

  He studies me carefully. “You’re an insightful girl,” he finally says with his head tilted. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “You say insightful, most say crazy,” I mutter, which only deepens his puzzlement.

  He stares for a moment or two before saying, “Well, my main focus is finding Donny Elderman, not the town. The man has been off the radar for years, yet he’s toxic to the country.” He loosens his tie more, wipes the sweat from his brow, and then rests back on his hands. “But yes, I’d like to bring the town down in the process. From what I understand, there are hundreds of citizens being forced as subjects to his drug experiments. There are no rules, no laws to abide by because no one knows it exists. Regardless, if that restriction and control is based on fear, like you say, a place like that shouldn’t exist. ”

  “Why do you care so much?” I wonder, resting my chin on my knee. “Some people usually turn their heads for the right amount of money. Or has no one tried to buy you off yet?”

  “No, there have been a few who have tried to buy my silence, but that’s not who I am,” he insists. “I believe that we need to bring the place down.”

  I fold my arms and rest back against the dresser behind me. “We? Who said anything about me helping you? I never agreed to that.”

  He assesses me and I mimic his move, surprised by my spout of newfound confidence.

  “According to Ryler, you’re a good, trustworthy person, which would make you the kind of person who wants to help with something like this.” When I don’t say anything, he straightens his legs and rises to his feet. “Guess Ryler was wrong.” He fishes his phone from his pocket and dials a number. “Doesn’t matter, though. Now that we have Evan Elderman detained, we can still make this happen.”

  I’m not positive if he’s telling the truth. The idea that the police somehow managed to arrest Evan seems impossible. “Even if that’s true.” I bend my legs and stand to my feet. “Even if you have Evan, he’ll never tell you anything. He was taught not to open his mouth about his father’s secrets, and unlike me, Evan will do anything to take his secrets to the grave. He’s not weak like me.”

  The detective pauses then hangs up the phone. “Unlike you? Does that mean you’ll help us?”

  I think about all my confessions to Ryler, how amazing it felt to get the years of lies and sins off my chest. I think of Ellis buried in the basement, forgotten, even by me. Perhaps telling the truth could be my salvation. Ellis said the truth would set me free, and I owe him that much—owe him the truth.

  “I’d need to know I was safe first.” I sink down on the mattress. “After this… I’ll never be able to live a normal life, especially in Laramie.”

  He sits down near the foot of the bed a few feet away from me. “You can live a normal life, but you’re right. You won’t be able to live in Laramie. We can set you up someplace safe, give you a new name and identity. A new life, if that’s what you want.”

  What he’s saying sounds wonderful. I want it so much my body aches, and pleads to be free from the invisible restraints always controlling me. But could it be this easy? I’m still a bit skeptic.

  “Are you talking about Witness Protection?” I ask the detec
tive.

  He nods. “I am.”

  I stare at the backs of my hands. My fingernails are chipped and my skin is dry. I’m falling apart on the outside, yet I don’t mind. With each part of my appearance that breaks, I feel so much more like myself, a person I haven’t fully discovered, but want to more than I want anything else.

  My hands drop to my lap. “There’s more that I want other than protection.”

  “I figured as much.” He stuffs his phone into the front pocket of his shirt.

  Mustering all the confidence I have, I square my shoulders. “When you raid the town, I want you to go to my house—I’ll give you the address if you need it. When you get there, I want you to arrest my mother along with my father. Both of them need to be put in jail if this is going to happen… My mother has a,” I make air quotes, “pharmacy she runs and gives people drugs, so charges against her shouldn’t be a problem. If that doesn’t work, check her necklace. She keeps cocaine in there.”

  I suck in a breath, then another, yet I can’t feel the air saturating my lungs. “Underneath the basement floor of my house are the bones of my brother. I want them extracted, and I want him to be given a proper burial.” His jaw drops at that request, but I keep going, needing to get all my secrets out. “And finally, I want to be set up with a psychiatrist wherever I end up. I need to find out… Well, what’s wrong with me?” If I’m crazy or not. If I have psychosis or what. Who I really am when I’m not under the power of my mother and father.

  “Why do you think something’s wrong with you?”

  “That’s for me to worry about, not you. And there’s one last request that I want as well. If you agree to all of this, then I’ll give you what you want.”

  He grows fidgety. “What’s the final request?”

  I inhale and exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Because that’s all I can do.

  “I want to see Ryler before I go to wherever you’re sending me. I want to say goodbye.” And I want to say I’m sorry for being who I am. He was the good guy all along, yet I treated him as if he were as wicked as me.

  I rub my hand over my tender chest. It hurts thinking about leaving him behind, when it feels like we’re just starting. In the end, I know I have to go to get my beginning, to get a chance at ever having a normal life.

  The detective considers my offer for a small amount of time before standing to his feet. He holds up a finger as he fishes his phone from his pocket again and dials a number. He wanders toward the door with the receiver pressed to his ear.

  I begin to grow worried about who he’s calling and wish I had a better grasp on reality so I could know, know that all of this is real. That soon, I could finally, finally be free. Sure, I’ll be someone else, with a different name. I might even have to cut my hair. Honestly, I’m perfectly okay shedding my so-called perfection.

  I can hear the detective murmuring something, so I scoot to the foot of the bed and listen. It sounds like he’s repeating my offer to someone. God, I hope that someone is another agent and not my father. I hope I haven’t been tricked. I hope this isn’t another part of my punishment for telling Ryler.

  A minute later, the agent returns to the room with a pleased smile on his face. “Emery, you have yourself a deal. Ryler is on his way and all your requests will be taken care of as soon as we have the location of the warehouse.”

  He waits for me to spill the biggest, most dangerous secret I ever will. My lips part to utter the name of the town, but the word weighs in my throat.

  “Can I have a pen and a piece of paper?” I ask.

  He nods and collects a pen and notebook from the drawer of the nightstand and hands them to me. I press the tip of the pen to the paper and my hand moves, betraying my father, my mother, all I ever knew.

  Ralingford is the town you’re looking for. That’s where the warehouse is.

  The pen falls from my hands, and finally, for the first time ever, I taste it.

  Freedom.

  Chapter 18

  A Life-Altering Choice.

  Ryler

  I’m in deep shit. That was made clear the moment three of Detective Stale’s cop buddies came barging into my apartment. They woke up Violet and Luke and gave me about two minutes to explain what the fuck was going on, why I texted Stale, saying I was about to tell Emery and run.

  “I’m sorry,” I signed to a horrified Luke while Greg, the taller, sturdier of Stale’s cop friends urged me to get my ass out the door. Jay, the shortest of the group, had Emery in his arms, because I refused to go anywhere without her.

  “Sorry for what?” Luke blinked his eyes and scanned the three men standing in our narrow, somewhat messy living room. “What the fuck is going on, man?”

  Violet walked up behind him, her hair a mess, her eyes bloodshot from sleepiness. “Holy shit, what’s going on?”

  I debated lying to them since it was what I was supposed to do, but I had already fucked up my informant position big time the moment I sent Stale that text. Already in balls deep, I decided to just tell them everything I could.

  “I’ve been working as an informant since before I ever moved here. In exchange for my help with the police, my criminal record was going to be wiped,” I sign with urgency. “Tonight I’ve pretty much made a choice that I was going to quit.”

  Luke’s gaze roams to Emery, unconscious, her head slumped back in Jay’s arms. “What happened to her?”

  “Well, to make a long story short, I was helping bring Emery’s father down, and this was his way of punishing her for telling me his secrets.” My hands were moving so fervently I’m not even sure they could interpret what I was saying. They must have understood enough, though, because both of their expressions plummeted.

  Violet shuffled forward, tugging at the bottom of her worn T-shirt. “What’s going to happen to you?”

  I shrugged, glancing back at Greg. “I have no idea.”

  “Are you… are you going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Luke stepped toward me. “Tell us what you need, man. How can we help?”

  I shook my head and shrugged. “You can’t. And I might not be coming back, but just know everything will be okay. And thanks for everything.”

  “Ryler.” Violet stepped toward me with her arm stretched out.

  That was when Greg intervened. “We need to go. Now.”

  He gave me a little push, and I stumbled toward the door, shooting Luke and Violet an apologetic look, knowing there was a chance I wasn’t going to see them again.

  I spend the next three days in and out of the police station, being locked up in a motel room, and getting probed with questions, watching countless television shows and movies, and eating out of a vending machine. On day two, Stale reams into me, telling me how much I fucked up. I let him rattle on and on, even though I didn’t fully agree with him. When I made my choice that I was going to tell Emery, it was a decision I felt good about.

  Problem is, I haven’t seen her since Detective Stale’s friends dragged us out of my apartment.

  “Where’s Emery?” I ask Stale on day three after he enters my motel room with a kind of shocked expression on his face. “And when the fuck am I going to be let out of here? Or am I not leaving?”

  “This place stinks, like cigarettes and coffee,” he remarks as he walks up to the foot of the bed. Bags permanently reside under his eyes, his clothes are wrinkled, and he reeks of coffee. “I told you that you couldn’t leave until I figure out what we’re going to do with you.” He pulls out a chair at the table, sits down, and lowers his head into his hands. “You do realize how bad you’ve screwed up, right? That this could have gone a lot worse. Doc could have gotten to you first and you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  I point the remote at the television, click it off, and then sit up on the bed, stretching my arms. “I already told you I don’t care,” I sign when he raises his head again. “Emery didn’t deserve what was happening to her, and I was sick of sitti
ng by and watching them torture her.”

  He shakes his head. “What I don’t get is why you think you needed to run with her? We could have gotten you out of there and then followed Doc when he took Emery home.”

  I lower my feet onto the floor. “Because more than likely Doc would have hurt her before he got her home.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.” His voice is harsh, but he looks worn out. “Do you have any idea what you did? You crumbled year’s worth of work all so you could try and save some girl, just like you did with Aura.”

  “Don’t bring her into this,” I warn. “Emery’s not Aura. She wouldn’t have told her father who I am.”