When Shadows Fracture (Cherry Creek Book 2)

by Callie Rae

  When he’d tugged me outside to his truck, still handcuffed, I’d hoped a neighbor, a car driving past, or even a kid on a bicycle riding by would see us. But my luck is staying strong—in the wrong direction. There hadn’t been a soul outside but us. He’d yanked me to his truck, tossed me in, locked the doors and quickly rounded the front to the other side. It’s not like I could have gotten out with my hands behind my back anyway. But damn it, I’d have tried to run or scream if I’d thought I could’ve.

  But as we drove off, what hit me hardest was the fact that I’d only been five minutes from Jesse’s house this entire time. I’d recognized the houses and roads as we’d passed by, and it makes me sick to know that Jesse was right there. If only I’d gotten out. I could have made it to his house, even cuffed. Or to a neighbor’s house to ask for help. Any of those options would have been good ones.

  Marcus keeps driving to the outskirts of town. He eventually pulls into the parking lot of a run-down, crappy-looking motel. Motels aren’t fancy by nature, but this one looks particularly shady, like something you’d find in a movie about drug lords and prostitutes. He drives past the front office and heads to the farthest corner of the parking lot, pulling his truck into a spot in front of the very last door, out of sight, out of mind from the world. Marcus has his door open before he even turns off the truck. He quickly grabs his bag out of the back and comes for my door.

  He pulls my door open and stands there with one hand full and the other hand on the handle. I stare at him as my mind races. The front office might have someone working in it. I mean, it is business hours. The possibility is one I can’t pass up.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Get out of the truck, Fallon,” Marcus growls at me. His obvious aggravation with my lack of urgency is so pleasant.

  I clear my throat and slowly slide out of my seat. Again, I continue to watch, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

  “Get a move on it.”

  I squeeze between the door and the truck. I hold my breath and just as I clear the door enough for him to shut it, I take off. With my hands behind my back, I run. I set my eyes on the office. I don’t look back. I put every ounce of energy into my legs, but the searing pain from my ankle and the spinning in my skull almost makes me rethink this plan. How can I outrun a perfectly capable man with a hurt ankle?

  But I put my head down and I push harder, push through the pain. Because this may be my only chance to get away, and I’m not wasting it. I get halfway there and realize I don’t hear any indication Marcus is following, but I put that thought to the side and keep running. I’m almost there. Safety is right behind that door.

  I slow down only when I think if I don’t, I’ll run right through the door of the office. When I’m within distance of reaching out and touching it, I start kicking it and screaming. I don’t know if there are people inside, but I just need someone—anyone—to hear me.

  “Open the door! Please!” I scream. I kick at the door and again. “Hello? Is anyone in there? Please help me!”

  “No one is going to help you Fallon. Read the sign.” Marcus’s voice rumbles through my frantic screams laced with what sounds like disappointment. I look down at a white piece of paper with awful handwriting scrawled across it. It reads “Office Closed.” That’s it. Those two words knock me down to nothing but a helpless girl with no way out. Two words and I’m defeated.

  My stomach drops. I stop yelling and kicking, lean my forehead against the door and close my eyes. I focus on my breathing. I’d winded myself in my desperate attempt to escape. But it almost doesn’t matter because the panic I feel at the thought of going back to that room with this man has me freaking out. My entire body is on edge, and I can’t calm myself down. My breathing turns even more ragged as I try desperately to control the anxiety coursing through me.

  Marcus’s hand wraps around my upper arm and he lifts, twisting my arm just enough that pain shoots through my shoulder. I cry out as he yanks me back. “Let’s go.”

  Panic flares all over again. This is my only chance. I know in my gut if I go in that room, he’ll lock me up again for who knows how long. No one will find us here. No one would expect him to bring me here. I have to do something.

  “No! No, I’m not going in there,” I say as I yank out of his hold and shake my head furiously. I start walking backwards away from him. “I’m not yours. Let me go, Marcus. Let me go, and we can just forget any of it ever happened.”

  Marcus moves so fast I’m barely able to react. He grabs me by the throat and slams me against the wall. “Where the fuck do you think you're going to go, Fallon? Hmm?” He raises his free hand and gestures to the road, “There’s nothing around here for at least five miles.”

  I spit in his face and, despite his fingers being clenched around my throat, manage to force out enough to say, “Fuck you.”

  He chuckles and wipes the spit from his face. He brings his eyes back to mine and nods. “Okay.”

  He drops my throat and bends over to grab me around my thighs, picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder.

  “No! Put me down!” I wriggle and kick at him. The harder I kick, the tighter his grip on my thighs gets. “No! Help! Someone help me!”

  He pushes me through the motel door, kicks the door shut and throws me down onto the only bed in the room. He spins and reaches for the lock, clicking it into place before rounding on me.

  I try to scoot up the bed away from him, but with my hands bound behind me, it’s hard to get too far. He grabs me by the ankle and pulls me back down to the edge. He climbs up my body and settles himself between my legs as he grips my face, forcing me to look up at him. His jaw is pulsing, and his breath is ragged. He stares down at me, and at first, he doesn’t speak. But then he finally says, “If you try to run again, I will find your boy. I will bring him here and I’ll tie him up.”

  He grinds against me, and it makes my stomach roil. “I’ll let him watch as I take you. Every part of your body will be mine. Right in front of him.” He gives a little laugh as he leans in close to whisper in my ear. “And then I’ll let you watch as I slit his throat.”

  He pushes off me. He grabs the small bag on the floor and starts to unpack his things.

  I slowly move up the bed until I can lean against the headboard and bring my knees to my chest. “So what’s your plan, exactly? Do you really think we can stay here forever?”

  He doesn’t answer me; he just gives me a glare and goes back to unpacking.

  “Are you fucking serious?” I yell. I mean what else can he do? Beat me? Push me down the stairs? I have nothing to lose.

  He snaps as he crosses the room to me, “I can do whatever the fuck I want. You are mine.”

  He crashes his dirty, slimy lips against mine. It’s enough to make me heave in disgust. I try to pull away, but his hand has my head held firmly in place, so I take a deep breath through my nose and open my mouth. He takes it as a gesture to deepen the kiss, which causes my gag reflex to kick in. And then I bite down until I can feel the trickle of blood seeping in through my teeth.

  Fuck him.

  Marcus hisses as he jerks away. His fist hits my cheek, sending me flying off the bed and landing in a heap on the ground. My head throbs harder, and I feel fresh, warm blood trickling over my scalp. The force of his his must have reopened my wound. He spits his blood across my face causing me to jump. “You bitch!” “I will never be yours. He will always be the only person I see,” I snarl. “His touch will always be the touch I feel. I am his. You don’t own me.”

  He reaches down to grab my cuffs and yanks me up onto my feet. My ankle hurts too much for me to fully support my own weight, so he half-drags me into the bathroom where he undoes one cuff and loops it over a towel rack before placing it back on my wrist. He gives each one a squeeze, tightening them enough to make me to wince. My wrists are already sore from the cuffs rubbing them raw and now he’s tightened them even more. He stands back and looks at me. “If yo
u are his, then where is he? Why hasn’t he come for you? Why hasn’t he found you?”

  He backs out of the bathroom and walks away, leaving me standing there stuck to the wall. “Marcus, you can’t leave me like this . . .”

  I yank on the cuffs. Pain? What’s pain? “Marcus!”

  “He’s taking us on a wild fucking goose chase,” Cason huffs. His irritation is evident in the way he’s slings his hands out and squeezes his eyes shut. Cason doesn’t have a whole lot of patience. He never has; impulse and patience are on entirely opposite ends of the scale.

  “It’s our only option, Case. We have nothing else to go on,” I say. We sit in silence for a few moments and Cason stares out of the window. I’m just as frustrated as he is. We’ve been following Jax all night. It’s now daylight, and Jax hasn’t taken us anywhere that could remotely help us find Fallon. Neither of us have slept—not that sleeping has been an option for me lately anyway.

  “Wait—this is our neighborhood,” Cason says as he sits up straight in his seat and looking more closely at the houses and street signs we are passing. “Where is he taking us?”

  “Looks like we’re about to find out,” I say as I slow the car down and pull off to the side and out of view just as Jax pulls into the driveway of an older home about two blocks from our house.

  We watch him get out of his car and go to the front door of this house. He seems too comfortable with the place for my liking. He knocks and waits a few moments, then knocks again. When he doesn’t get an answer, he disappears around the back of the house.

  “So are we ever going to talk about why you went to some chick’s house instead of calling me when Marcus had you jumped?” I ask as I keep my eye on the house.

  Cason hisses but he doesn’t argue. “I wasn’t going to bring them to you. I didn’t need us both jumped. Someone has to be in good shape in case we find her. I figured Narni’s house was safer than being followed home by a couple of Marcus’s thugs.”

  “Is that really why?” This time I look directly at Cason.

  His meets my eyes but swallows hard. There’s something he isn’t telling me; I can see it in the way he’s holding back. But Cason is my brother and if he isn’t saying something it’s because of one of two reasons: he isn’t ready, or he’s protecting his family.

  “That’s it. Sheesh, man. Sorry for trying to protect my family. Isn’t that what we do? Have each other’s backs?” Cason says. He’s defensive because he’s not ready to admit whatever he won’t tell me to himself either. That’s fine, because he’s right—we have each other’s backs, and I’ll have his back right now. I’ll let him figure it out for himself first before I push for more answers.

  “Okay. You’re right. Sorry, bro. This whole thing with Fallon has me off.” The lie is for his sake.

  Cason's phone starts ringing to a guitar riff, and I look over at him. “Can you turn that shit off?”

  “Sorry, man,” Cason says as he silences his phone, ignoring the caller. He leans forward, searching the house. “He’s been back there for a long time.”

  “Yep,” I say. It’s definitely suspicious.

  Cason’s phone starts ringing again and this time, he picks it up and looks at the caller ID. “Shit, it’s Goose. Let me see what he wants.”

  “Yo, man. I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Cason says as he answers his phone, leaning back into the headrest. Almost instantaneously, he perks up in his seat and throws a glance at me. “Alright, alright, hold on a sec.”

  Cason pulls his phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker. He places the phone on the center console so we can both hear. “Okay man, he’s here. What’s up?”

  “Jesse?” Goose’s voice echoes in the car.

  “This better be important, dude. We’re in the middle of something.” I speak into the phone. Right now is not the time.

  “I think I might have something on Fallon,” Goose replies.

  I look up to Cason, meeting his level stare with one of my own. We both lean closer the phone. “You got my attention. What’s going on?”

  “Look, something’s up with Jordan. He just ain’t acting normal. He said something to you the other day that had me feeling kind of funny,” Goose says, “I’ve seen him talking to that Marcus guy, but he told you that he didn’t know the dude. Then after you left, he took off in a hurry.”

  Cason and I glance at each other once more. Goose is quiet. He doesn’t tend to get into peoples’ business. Calling his boy out like this means he must be feeling really off about whatever shit he’s seen.

  “Keep going,” I say, almost too impatient. I’m ready to kick into gear and jump on the possibility of a lead.

  “So I followed him. He went to this random house, and he was standing on the front porch arguing with someone inside about a girl. I couldn’t see who he was arguing with, but I thought it might have had something to do with Fallon. The whole thing was just funny, ya know?” Goose says.

  “Goose, you got that address?” Cason asks as he beats a fist on the roof of my car.

  “Yeah dude, I’ll text it over right away.”

  I can feel the adrenaline start to hum in my veins. This could be a solid lead. Finally. “Alright. Thanks, man. You did us a solid.”

  Goose breathes heavily into the phone. “I hope it ain’t nothing, but if it’s something, I couldn’t just let it slide by.”

  “Yeah, thanks bro, I appreciate it,” I say sincerely.

  “No problem, man. I like Fallon. She’s good people,” Goose says. “Address is on its way. I’ll catch y’all later.”

  The call ends just as Jax reappears from the side of the building. He looks a bit frustrated as he gets back to his car, only to glance back at the house one last time before getting in and driving off.

  Cason’s phone beeps with an incoming text and he checks it. His eyes go wide.

  “Holy shit. No fucking way. What number is on that house?”

  “One-three-two. Why?” I ask as I glance back at him. He looks up at me and the color drains from his face. Something isn’t right.

  “Because that’s the address that Goose just sent me.” Cason turns his phone around to show me his screen. I don’t get past the first three numbers.

  132

  “Fuck.” I grab the door, push it open and fly out of my car.

  It’s the same fucking house. We’re at the same fucking house!

  I’m not wasting any time if she’s in there. I run the hardest I’ve ever run in my life, straight for the front door. By the time Cason gets out behind me I’ve already sprinted halfway up the drive. I reach the front door and bang on it a few times. Cason runs around the side of the house first, looking for any entrance inside. He comes back only a few moments later and motions for me to follow.

  “Yo, there’s an open window,” he yells before running around the side of the house again.

  I jump over the porch railing and land on the path that wraps around the house, then follow him around to the back. By the time I get to the first-floor window he was referring to, I see his legs disappear through it. I follow easily behind him and land in a bedroom—a very small bedroom. It’s got a simple bed, a dresser, and a side table, but the bed is ruffled up like someone slept in it and there’s a brown stain on the pillow. It looks like old blood. I stare at it and hope that it’s not Fallon’s; I don’t think I could handle it if it was. But now that I see it, I can’t push down the feeling that I’m too late. I just hope I don’t find her in here in any state but safe.

  “Let’s check the rest of the house,” I whisper to Cason as I swallow the bile and push away the thoughts. “Be careful—we don’t know if anyone is home.”

  Cason nods, but I see the sweat forming on his face. He saw the blood too.

  We both slip cautiously through the bedroom door. I motion for Cason to go right down the hallway as I go left towards the living room.

  After a few moments, Cason com
es to the kitchen where I’m searching drawers and cabinets for any sign of Fallon.

  “It’s empty,” he says. “The entire fucking house is empty except for two of the bedrooms. There isn’t any furniture anywhere else in the house.”

  “Yeah, and judging by the lack of food, I don’t think anyone is coming back,” I say as I slam a cabinet door closed. I sag against it in frustration. I’m too fucking late. “There has to be something here. It’s no coincidence that both Jordan and Jax came to the same house.”

  A loud noise comes from the bedroom we’d entered through and both Cason and I drop down low to hide behind the counter. I put my finger over my mouth to indicate we should be quiet as I look at Cason and listen. When I don’t hear anything else, I motion to Cason to tell him I’m going to go check it out. I know instinctively he’ll watch my back; he always does. I slink down the hall with Cason closely following me. I hear another bump. Someone is clearly in the house, and if I had to guess, they followed us in here. They’re in the same bedroom we came through.

  “Shit!” A girl’s voice hisses, and I instantly relax. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

  I look back to Cason with a raised eyebrow before he stands and throws the door open to a squealing Jade and yells, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Argh!” Jade screams. “Don’t scare me like that! What are you doing here? Besides the obvious breaking and entering,” Jade says, the attitude in her tone belies her disapproval of this situation. I don’t care; it’s for Fallon.

  I step into the door frame, leaning on it. “Jade, cut the crap. How did you find us?”

  “I followed you here. I knew y’all wouldn’t include me even after promising me you would, so I included myself,” she says as she crosses her arms and stubbornly stares at us. She’s ready for a fight—one I don’t have the energy for. Definitely not while in a house that we broke into that God-knows-who owns. We don’t have time for this. We can’t get caught in this house.