What I did notice was all the personnel rushing for the house, people screaming into their walkie-talkies and raising their weapons. The single paramedic that stuck around was so busy trying to calm the hysteric cluster of felt-covered girls that she never noticed me walking off. No one, in fact, noticed as I walked down the lane.
It only took two attempts to find an unmarked vehicle with keys in the ignition. I was hoping that would be the case.
I knew there was still the chance this vehicle could be tracked, but I didn’t care. Like they were going to arrest a dazed, scared young woman who just got rescued from a brothel. I had no scruples stealing it and driving off, no scruples of bringing up an all-too familiar city on the GPS and letting it guide me away.
I was in a mindless daze. One minute I was pulling onto the highway, the next it was three hours later and I had run out of gas. I was only a couple of towns away from my destination, so I walked to the next exit and used the phone at a fast food restaurant to call a cab. Sadly, the locals thought nothing about my appearance as I sat Indian-style on the outside bench, completely wrapped up with the blanket until my ride arrived.
The cab driver, at least, noticed my disheveled appearance and repeatedly asked me if I was sure I was okay. I assured him that I was, and that I just needed to get home.
Home. I couldn’t believe I just said that.
Thirty minutes later I had a hefty bill to pay as we pulled up outside the log home. Unlike how it was when I left, the garage door was down. I almost wanted to smack myself when I remembered Friggs’ men knew the location of this house. I was in such a rush to get out of there, my mind didn’t even put two and two together that coming back here might not be the brightest move. My heart skipped a beat, expecting someone to come jump me like they had before, but then I realized there were no cars around, and with no reason for them to hide anymore, surely that meant they were gone. Right?
The front door was locked, so as not to arise suspicion from the driver, I edged my way around back, checking through all the windows as I went. The inside had been completely ransacked, but it didn’t appear like anyone was around. Here goes nothing. I turned the knob on the back door, breathing a sigh of relief that it was still unlocked. The alarm didn’t blare, didn’t pierce my eardrums with obnoxious tones that wouldn’t end. I flipped open the panel and saw that it hadn’t been set, probably still inactive since my last workout. But more importantly, no one came running.
The entire house had been turned upside down. Drawers dumped, sofas gutted, dishes shattered, bookcases stripped. The study got it the worst. Even his desk looked like someone had whacked away at it with an ax. They were so thorough Zander was lucky his hiding spot wasn’t in here. Guess this was why.
I hurried to the loft, which hadn’t been spared either. Clothing had been pulled from the hangers, drawers were dumped, sheets were ripped from the bed and the furniture and mattresses had their innards spilling out. The bathroom seemed the least damaged – probably because there was little to dump or tear from the walls. I pushed on the tile and voila – the box behind it was still safe and secure. I punched in the code, pulled the laptop out of the way and snatched the stack of hundreds at the bottom. On my way to the front, I detoured to make sure there was still a car in the garage, then went out front to pay the driver, leaving him a ridiculous tip that had him saying thank you repeatedly until he drove away.
I wasn’t sure if or when Friggs’ men might return, so I didn’t hesitate to rush back up to the loft. I stuffed whatever clothing I could into a duffel, slipping on a long-sleeved shirt, a pair of cotton pants and shoes. I snatched without thinking when it came to toiletries. I also swiped pain killers and first aid supplies for my burns, the laptop and the remainder of his stash of cash. Bags in hand, I hustled to the kitchen and plucked the keys from the sea of kitchen debris.
The garage didn’t have much to pull apart, so it was relatively neat. The car itself seemed to have been spared the destructive pair of hands that went through the house, though it was obvious that it had been rifled through.
As I pulled out of the garage, the coast seemed clear. I sped the silver Mercedes up the lane and flew onto the empty highway. It took all I had to ease up on the gas, especially the way my pulse was racing, fear of everything driving me on. Fear of being caught, fear of hurting my loved ones who remained, fear that this would never be really over.
But with God as my only witness, I swore that after this day, I’d never be afraid again.
I was only able to drive two hours before I absolutely couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I found the first hotel I came across, paid cash for a room – got a weird look from the girl checking me in – and managed to hold my shit together as I made my way to my room. Once through the door though, all bets were off. My duffel slid from my shoulder and crashed right there. I stumbled to the bathroom to pee and stopped hard in front of the mirror.
No wonder that girl was looking at me curiously. My face was slightly bruised, but that wasn’t what probably drew her attention. It was probably the fact that my skin was ashy with dirt and tiny twigs were caught in my mussy, tangled hair. I looked like I just spent a week in the woods.
My muscles strained as I stripped down. I tried not to look, but the streaks of dried blood that ran down from my cut knees was impossible to miss. Brown water swirled down the drain once I stepped inside the shower. Tiny cuts I had forgotten about stung as I lathered soap across my skin. Bruises appeared beneath the filth. When I got to my new burn marks, the bright sloppy red ovals on my right thigh, the water alone magnified the pain, making it feel like I was burning all over again. Out of nowhere all the weight of the past two days came crashing down and I was suddenly crying all over again, so hard and loud I overpowered the shower. I slid down the wall and folded up on the grungy tile floor, letting the water crash against my knees, its warmth slivering down my legs in rivulets. I saw my sister’s face again, that moment when she went from confusion to absolute nothingness. I was standing right there. Right there! And I couldn’t do anything to save her. He was that quick.
I no longer had a sister. A mom or dad. I was alone for the second time in my life, except the loss was fresh all over again. Death was hard enough to deal with once. No one should ever have to go through it twice. Granted the loss of my first family was fictional because I had been brainwashed, but the belief was real. The pain was real. And now I had to go through it all over again, when I was just getting to know my real family. Who did nothing to deserve their deaths. All they did was love me. Fight for me.
And all I brought them in return was death.
Head down, stay off the radar.
After all this time, I had no idea why those words suddenly drove me. Why I suddenly felt the need to run and put as much space between me and that mansion as possible. Even between me and the people who pulled me out. Survival mode kicking in, maybe? I wasn’t sure, but if it was one thing I had learned to do over the years, it was to trust my instincts.
That first day I slept for a solid twenty-four hours. I wanted to roll over and bury myself under the covers even more, but fear drove me to get up and keep moving. Stay off the radar. Don’t let anyone catch up. It was like there was a shadow chasing me down. One I couldn’t see, just over the horizon, on the verge of crossing over, readying itself to swallow me whole. I lived in a constant state of panic that I just couldn’t shake.
I’d move every few days. Drive all day in random directions with the GPS off so even I didn’t know where I was. I barely spoke to anyone, mostly hid out in my room the whole time. I never got on the internet or turned on the news. I’d occasionally leave the television on the movie channel but it was just background noise. My mind wouldn’t allow me to focus on any distractions, too busy drowning my thoughts with memories long gone. Of loved ones long gone. And the only one still alive I refused to think back on, to hope or to wish for.
I did send a short note to O’Neill letting her know I surv
ived, just so she could relay it to Nick to allow him closure this time. He deserved something so much better than this nomadic lifestyle, and he needed to move on with his life already. Worrying about me would only hold him back.
One week turned into two. Two into three. Suddenly six had passed and nothing had changed. Nothing except my name. Megan was officially dead. I refused to be her anymore. Refused to drag through life carrying her miserable burden. If only I could get my head to compromise on the guilt already. I felt alone. Empty. Unsure of who I was or what I was meant to do besides drift until the money ran out. I was a girl without a home. Without a family. Without anywhere to go. And my heart was filled with so much guilt that I lacked the will to change anything. I was pretty damn close to driving my car off the bridge already.
Oh God, I know that sound.
Just as something thumped onto my bed, I shouted, “Jesus!” and flew out from beneath the sheets, kicking my way to the headboard to take in the scene. I always left my bathroom light on these days, and unfortunately, it lit up more than I ever wanted to see. I fisted my own roots and groaned. I was dreaming. I had to be fucking dreaming.
Zander stood at the threshold of my motel room, currently lowering the gun in his hand. The blast was that all too familiar sound that woke me from my slumber in the rudest way possible. A body was slumped over the foot of my bed – and by the looks of it, dead-dead-dead.
My other hand was apparently on my heart, whose up-tempo beat was suddenly gaining attention.
“Jesus,” I said again, this time with relief, getting out of bed. “You’re alive,” I stated dumbly, still in disbelief. He flashed me a look that screamed as if I could be killed.
My head still swimming with confusion as I took in the scene, I asked, “How the hell did you find me?”
Zander took that as invitation to enter my room. He felt for a pulse in the man’s neck, and as I really began to focus in on the face, I recognized him.
Finn.
Fuck. Better question might be how he found me. And how he was still alive. The fucker must’ve gotten out before the raid.
“I’ve always known. When will you realize that I will always know where you are? I’ve just been busy trying to catch up to this one. Once I realized he was getting closer and closer to you, I just hung back and waited for him to get here.”
What? Did he add a second tracker that day? First thing I did was change the password and the settings to the app that communicated with the tracker inside me, just to make sure O’Neil didn’t keep getting updates on my location. In fact, I turned the tracker off altogether. But if he added a second without my knowledge, I wouldn’t be able to control that one. “Did you put a fucking tracker in me?” I accused boldly.
“You have my laptop. It’s traceable.”
Hands on hips, I slightly dropped my head to one side. “I’m not hearing a denial on the tracker part.”
Zander tucked the gun into the back of his pants. Not even looking my way, he replied nonchalantly, “You also have my car, which I can also track.”
I closed my eyes and worked my jaw, releasing the slowest, heaviest sigh ever. No point in asking a third time. My brain suddenly started working again. I rushed to the window to look outside. “And are you kidding me? The whole world probably fucking heard that!”
“You’re the only one staying in this shithole. Norman Bates’ enthusiasts wouldn’t dare this place. And you have my Mercedes. You don’t think that stands out?”
Ignoring him, I argued, “The owner probably lives here.” I kept staring, waiting to see if any lights came on, but all I saw was my car. Or really, the car I took from him. “Where’s the car you came in?”
“Out back in the far corner.”
“And his?”
“Around back too. He just didn’t bother to park out of the spotlight.” Only once he jabbed, “You’re welcome,” did I close the curtains and turn to flash him a sassy and annoyed glare.
His eyes met mine dead on, and though we were feet apart, it was so hard and powerful he could’ve been right in front of me. “If you hadn’t taken my laptop and computer, you’d probably be dead right now. And as much as you’ve been through, if you really wanted to be dead, you would’ve taken your life on your own terms by now. Not wait for another piece of shit to do it for you.”
“You mean a man like you?” I sassed.
Seemingly unaffected by my harsh words, he strutted towards me. My head jerked back, but I managed to rein in the rest of my body before it got the urge to retreat. He left nothing but a few inches of buffer between our chests. Surprisingly, he kept his hands to himself, though his eyes weren’t shy about traveling the length of my body.
With a deep, sultry voice, he whispered, “One, I’d never kill you. Two, you didn’t consider me a piece of shit when you thought I was dying. You were practically begging me to stay.”
“You were the only ally I had in that hellhole. Of course I begged. I was in full panic mode by then.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, but in a way that said he didn’t believe me.
“How are you alive anyway?”
“Never died, love. My body just crashed for a while.”
“You weren’t breathing.”
“Well, I must’ve been because I doubt anyone there gave me mouth to mouth.” He returned to the bed and rolled Finn over. “You ready to learn how to dispose of a body?”
The suggestion threw me. “What?”
His head turned and flashed me an empty look. “You really want to call the cops and get dragged back into all this crap? Seems to me you’ve been trying to stay off the radar, Mia.”
I flattened my lips and glared. Of course he would know my new name.
Changing the subject, I looked back to the lifeless body slowly painting my sheets an ugly shade of crimson red. “Can’t believe he found me. I thought he was dead.”
“That seems to be an issue for you, seeing as how none of us are turning up dead.”
I glowered before he added, “As for how he found you, he has his late daddy’s resources, but I suppose he tagged you.”
“Wait. What? Who’s his dad?”
Zander looked at me like I was daft. “Friggs.”
My hand flew to my chest as I inhaled a burst of air. “He’s dead?”
Confused, he asked, “You didn’t know that?”
I shook my head. “I looked online once to see if the raid was covered, but it didn’t mention any names.” I looked down at Finn again. “And Finn told Thea he was Friggs’ nephew.” I closed my eyes and stroked my brows, trying to head off the headache before it hit. Of course that piece of shit lied to her. It made it far easier to sell his dislike of the industry if he were the nephew thrown into it unwillingly. I threw my hand in the air. “Fuck it. Whatever. I don’t care how the fuck this bastard was related to Friggs. So long as they’re both dead.”
Zander pointed to the bloody hole in Finn’s head. “Even with your bad luck, I don’t think he’s coming back from this.”
“You’re sure Friggs is dead?” I asked quietly, softly.
Homing in on the worry saturating my tone, he gently replied, “Yes. They had me identify the body. The stubborn bastard refused to be taken in. Got his chest filled with lead.”
“Good.” The fucker.
Hands on my hips, I breathed a sigh of relief. I never actually had confirmation what happened to him, and since I never knew Friggs’ real name, an obituary or death notification would’ve been hard to find. I could’ve called O’Neill but that opened a line of communication I’d been desperate to bury. “So now what?”
Zander tucked the gun behind him. “Now we clean up the mess.” He patted down Finn’s pockets and pulled out his keys. Really looking me up and down, he stated, “You look like shit. Why didn’t you just check into a spa somewhere?”
“Give me a fucking break. I’ve had a hard few weeks. I’ve been tortured, fucking raped, lost my family, I can’t shake the guilt o
f their deaths, can’t sleep, can’t eat and I have a constant fucking migraine that won’t go away.”
“You say fuck a lot now, too.”
I crossed my arms and glared, refusing to say the fuck you my eyes were yelling at him.
His mouth twitched into a fast half smile. “Message received, love.”
“What do we do with him? Because I doubt the motel owner will dig splattered brains as décor.”
“You pack,” he said as he pulled his phone out and made for the door. “I have someone nearby who can come deal with this.”
Well, of course he did.
Incredibly tired – and annoyed – I fisted the hair at my forehead. Looking down at Finn, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was really dead this time. He lost what I thought was a fair amount of blood last time, too. I moved in for a closer look. Reaching in to check for a pulse, my hand kept jumping backwards, constantly reminding me what a horrible idea this was. It took everything I had to keep my fingers on his neck long enough to believe he was really dead this time.
Feeling more assured, I leaned over for a better look. His hair was super short, and I soon understood why. The area I pounded on six weeks ago had a jagged red scar beneath the buzz. The unsettling thing was, he probably had surgery too, yet here he was already gunning for me. That was some hard core anger right there. I felt my actions were justified given the situation, but apparently Finn disagreed.
I packed my crap and stepped outside. The motel still seemed quiet, no signs of life anywhere. I drove the car around back to park besides Zander. He was currently going through the inside of the only other car in the lot, some fairly new black Dodge Charger. He had just popped the trunk when I arrived. Lifting the gate, we both kind of stared for a moment, noting the shovel and a box of heavy duty trash bags straight away. Inside a tool bag were bundles of rope, knives, unlabeled vials filled with clear liquid and needles.
NEARLY Trilogy Page 79