by Vance, Ally
This is the quietest I’ve ever seen her. From the start she’s always been full of sass and attitude. The elevator is taped off with a long-faded out-of-order sign, so we start to walk up the stairwell.
When we get to her floor, I don’t ask for the door number…I don’t need to, because Leeann darts down the hallway with me hot on her heels. She can’t run anywhere up here except to her apartment; the stairs we came up are the only way in or out.
When I catch up to her, Leeann is standing outside apartment forty-two, staring at the number painted on the door. Pulling on a pair of gloves, I let out a breath and knock, but there’s no answer.
Before I have time to knock again, Leeann pounds on the door. “Arron! Let me in. It’s Leeann.”
Silence is the only response we receive. My suspicions rise the longer we stand there, and I don’t like it. We’re exposed and anyone could be fucking watching this place. He’s not answering, so either he was warned about our impending arrival, or maybe Caryn’s men killed him anyway once they had Leeann.
I’m pissed, but staying calm and focused is more important. I reach into one of the inside pockets of my leather jacket, and pulling out a small pouch, I unfold it to reveal the tools inside. I can feel Leeann’s eyes on me, but I ignore her while I pick the crappy excuse for a lock that is securing the door. Fuck, even if Arron hadn’t allowed Caryn’s men free access to her, they could have just broken through the lock as quickly as I’ve just done.
Leeann goes to push past me and into the apartment, but fuck knows who could be on the other side of the door, so I stop her, grinding my teeth when she struggles.
“Don’t be in such a hurry to run into the lion’s den, pretty girl,” I growl, and she raises her eyebrows incredulously at me.
I can’t fully smother the smile trying to break free, but I grit out, “It’s my fucking job to be dangerous, reckless, and unpredictable. It’s part of my charm. But we don’t know who could be on the other side of that door, waiting for your stupid ass to go rushing in,”
Leeann is as impulsive as I am, and I fucking love it, but she’s going to get herself killed. At least I have a fuckload of training to backup my recklessness in dangerous situations. It’s saved my ass on more than one occasion.
I withdraw one of my knives from the sheath I have attached to my belt. Leeann's eyes widen in surprise, and she lets out a tiny gasp. I smile, placing the knife vertically against my lips to indicate I want her silence.
I push open the door and cautiously venture into the apartment, listening intently for any sound of movement. The room has been trashed with obvious signs of a struggle having taken place. Reaching behind me, I grab for Leeann's hand to stop her rushing forward. She snatches it away and pushes past me before I can stop her.
“Arron!” she calls out before coming to a sudden stop in the center of the room when she sees the destruction surrounding her.
Leeann turns to look at me accusingly, and I shake my head. “I don't know what the fuck happened here. I take it all this mess wasn't caused when you were collected?”
“No,” she whispers, and a look of devastation fleetingly passes across her features before hardening into determined resignation.
Abandoning all attempt at stealth, I stride past Leeann toward a closed door I assume leads to one of the bedrooms. She follows after me without saying a word. The door opens into what must be her brother’s room if the men’s clothes strewn on the floor and an unmade bed are any indicators. The door next to Arron’s room is ajar and the handle is broken; I push it open to reveal Leeann’s room. A chair is lying on its side on the floor, and the rest of the room shows signs of a scuffle taking place.
I glance toward Leeann and she shrugs. “I didn’t want to go with them. I tried to fight them off, but it didn’t do me any good.”
I nod my head at her room. “Pack some of your shit into a bag. You’re not coming back here, so this will be your only opportunity. By rights you shouldn’t be here with me, but I didn’t want to take any chances that someone would pay a visit to my house while I was out.”
The half-truth falls easily from my lips. The fact is she shouldn’t be with me at all. I haven’t told anyone I’ve got her, and fuck if I want to risk someone finding her at the house and laying a hand on her while I’m out. The thought of anyone touching Leeann makes my blood boil, and an unwanted jealousy and possessiveness burns in my gut.
Leaving her to grab whatever shit she wants to take with her, I explore the rest of the apartment, not that there’s much else to see. I push open the heavy fire safety door leading to the kitchen and let out a cough as my eyes begin to water.
“What the fuck?” I choke out, trying not to breathe in too deeply.
A rancid, sickly-sweet and somewhat familiar smell is heavily permeating the air, and my suspicions as to the cause are confirmed the moment I walk around the kitchen island. I let out a low whistle at the sight that greets me. Lying face down in a dark brown pool of congealed blood is a man with a kitchen knife protruding from the centre of his back. I sheath my own knife and move closer to take a look.
Leeann walks into the room with a backpack slung over one shoulder and wearing her own clothes. She immediately begins to gag. Her eyebrows pinch together in disgust as she swiftly lifts a hand to her face, and covers her mouth and nose.
“What is that smell?” she gasps, the words muffled by her hand.
“See for yourself,” I answer, inclining my head toward the body on the floor in front of me.
Leeann hesitantly edges closer, fearful of the unknown and reluctant to see what is causing the horrific stench. Judging by the smell, rigidity of the body, and the color of the blood, he’s been here a lot longer than a couple of hours. This isn’t my first dead body, and it won’t be my last although I’m usually the one leaving them rather than happening across them like this.
Ignoring the disgust I feel at having to do this, I approach the prone figure and close my fingers around the handle of the knife. Exerting a little effort, I manage to free the blade from the corpse with a sickening sound of metal slicing through cartilage, and dead, rotting flesh.
I can feel Leeann’s eyes on my back, but I don’t turn toward her. If I see her face right now, I won’t be able to do this because a part of me believes this is her brother. Leaning away from the body, I take a few shallow breaths before I mentally brace myself for what I’m about to see. I know all about knives and the injuries they cause, and even though the wound to this guy’s back is serious, the amount of blood which has pooled beneath him tells me that the worst of the damage is to his front.
The body is heavy; the deadweight is hard to shift, but I manage to roll him onto his front. Letting out a muffled scream, Leeann runs from the room, and I hear her rush into the bathroom. I have to swallow hard not to follow after her because the cloying smell of decay is unbelievable. I fucking knew something wasn’t right.
I close my eyes tightly, but the image of the man with his rotten guts spilling out from a gaping hole in his front is already burned into my brain. The memory of my mom lying on our kitchen floor swims to the forefront of my mind.
We need to get the fuck out of here.
Leeann
Oh God, the smell. Fucking hell. I retch and lean back over the toilet, but there’s nothing left, so I’m dry heaving. Finally feeling a little better, I flush and go to the sink to wash my hands before rinsing my mouth with water from the faucet and quickly brushing my teeth. There’s no way I’ll ever forget what I saw on the kitchen floor, and guilt twists my already roiling stomach because a big part of me feels relief that it wasn’t Arron. However, I don’t know what this means for him either since he’s not here, and there’s a fucking dead guy in our apartment. I shudder and swallow down the bile that has risen up in my throat, so I don’t end up bent over the toilet again.
A knock at the bathroom door draws my attention, and I tamper down the fear that bubbles to the surface.
“I
t’s me...it’s Seth. We’re leaving. NOW!” he barks through the door, and the urgency in his tone fills me with panic. I quickly grab my backpack from the floor before hurriedly unlocking the bathroom door and pulling it open.
Seth grabs my hand, dragging me as fast as he can from the apartment, down the stairwell, and out of the building. I take a deep breath of fresh air to clear my head and lungs, but Seth’s already hauling me down the street with my hand firmly gripped in his.
I don’t know why he’s responded so urgently to what we found, but I’m not going to complain about getting as far away from it as possible. Seth said I wouldn’t be returning to the apartment, but after this, I don’t ever want to go back there even if it means being Seth’s captive for an indeterminate amount of time.
When we’re in the car, Seth presses a button on the dash and the locks engage. Both of us are breathing hard; our faces are flushed from exertion and the rush of adrenaline.
“It wasn’t Arron,” I gasp, tears running down my face as the horror of it all sinks in.
Seth slams his palm against the steering wheel, and curses, “Fuck!”
“What? Did you know that guy?” I ask because I can’t think of any other reason why he’d be so upset about the dead guy. Although the state he was left in may be enough to mentally scar me for the rest of my life…however long that is.
“No,” he answers without elaborating. He inserts the key into the ignition and drives us quickly away, leaving the nightmare behind us.
I’m on edge, and the silence in the car is deafening, but I daren’t switch on the radio. Seth seems to be in a dark mood, and I don’t want to disturb him when he is clearly thinking hard about something. His phone beeps, and immediately pulling the car over to the side of the road, he switches off the engine.
“Not now. Of all the fucking times,” he mutters, taking the phone out of his pocket to check it.
I’m watching him intently, waiting while he reads whatever the message says. He closes his eyes, and dropping his head backward against the headrest, he lets out a heavy breath.
“Who was it?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“None of your business,” he snaps, opening his eyes to glare at me.
Annoyed, I snatch the phone from his hand and manage to read the name on the screen before it goes black.
“Who’s Arthur?” I question, dropping the phone on my lap when he leans over the gearstick and grabs my wrist with his hand. He then wraps his other hand around the back of my neck and turns me to face him.
“Someone you never want to meet,” he answers, his green eyes burning into mine.
My stupid heart flutters, and I mentally chastise it for reacting this way to him. Seth has locked me up, chased me down, and threatened me on more than one occasion, yet I still can’t seem to control how my body is starting to respond to him when he’s near. My breath hitches when his gaze drops slowly down to my slightly parted lips.
Seth’s eyes are dark when they meet mine again, and I’m about to nervously lick my lips when his mouth is on mine with his tongue pushing into my mouth. Every time he kisses me it's fucking electrifying; it feels like my blood is sizzling, and my body’s burning under his touch. I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to do more than this with him, and I have to clench my thighs together when an ache settles between them.
Seth smiles against my mouth, and I know he’s noticed the tiny movement when he moves my hand to the front of his black jeans. I can feel how hard he is beneath the material as he mumbles, “You’re not the only one affected, pretty girl.”
I let out a surprised gasp, and he deepens the kiss as our breaths mingle. In spite of the awkward position we’re in, and the horror of this morning, at this moment in the front seat of this car with Seth is the only place I want to be. The danger...the recklessness of what I’m doing with a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill at a moments notice has my pulse racing. I feel fucking alive.
His phone rings, and I let out a squeak of surprise when it starts to vibrate in my lap. Seth breaks the kiss with a breathless laugh and picks it up. I catch a glimpse of the name ‘Lance’, flashing across the screen. Looking serious all of a sudden, he presses a gentle finger against my lips and swipes across to answer.
“Hey, man,” he says casually. “What’s up?”
Seth
“Are you home?” Lance inquires, and I nearly drop the fucking phone.
Well, shit…I wasn't expecting that. It’s been a while since he’s come by although we’ve both been saying we need to have a few beers and catch up. Work and Giuliana have been keeping him busy, and I’ve been doing my own thing. It’s almost like he has a built in cock-block alert system.
“Seth, where are you man?” he asks...I still haven’t fucking answered.
“I’m out on an assignment right now,” I tell him, winking at Leeann who looks amused and also curious.
“Maybe we can grab a beer when you get back?” he says, and I can hear the question in his tone because I’m not normally this evasive with him.
“Sure. See you soon,” I say, hanging up the phone and stowing it away in my jacket.
I trust Lance with my fucking life, and I know he feels the same way about me. We’re like fucking family. It’s not that I’m worried about him knowing what’s happening, it’s just he’s probably going to be pissed when he learns how badly I’ve fucked up this assignment: my target who though she attempted to buy me off with Leeann instead of money is still alive, and the girl who’s supposed to be my captive is swiftly becoming my goddamned weakness.
Then there’s the bullshit at the apartment we’ve just left behind. I’m confused as fuck and haven’t got the faintest idea what’s going on. There’s more to this than a simple payoff, but I can’t figure out what the endgame is.
My burn phone starts to ring, and I growl in annoyance. I’m not in the fucking mood for this. Leeann looks at me quizzically when I pull out my other phone. An unfamiliar number flashes across the screen, and I frown because very few people have this number, and anyone with a shred of sense would blocked theirs to prevent being located. Whoever this is, they’ve as good as gotten themselves killed.
I activate an app on my phone to trace the GPS coordinates of the call before answering.
“What the hell have you done to my sister, you asshole!”
“Who the fuck is calling?” I shout although I’m almost certain I know the identity of the caller.
“Arron Mallory, and I’m Leeann’s brother,” he sneers, but I can hear the wobble of false bravado in his voice, and I want to fucking laugh even though this is far from funny.
“I want to speak to him!” Leeann interrupts. The idiot is speaking loud enough that she can hear him.
“She’s none of your fucking concern,” I snarl. “You gave up all claim to her when you sacrificed her to save your own worthless skin. So why are you really calling? Because I'm three seconds away from hanging up the goddamned phone.”
This whole fucking mess is becoming a bigger shitstorm than I expected. There’s definitely something else going on behind the front I’m being presented with. I had my concerns when we found the body back in the apartment, especially with the cause of death mirroring the way my mom died four years ago. But this call from Arron on my burn phone confirms every one of my suspicions; the only way he could get this number is if someone is helping him.
“I want to speak to her,” he snaps back, and I lose my temper.
“You don’t fucking deserve to speak to her. If I thought it would be worth my time, I'd be tempted to flay you within an inch of your fucking life to show you just how worthless your skin really is.”
Leeann lets out a little gasp, and I place a hand over her mouth, shaking my head at her. When did I start caring so much? Right now the most important thing is to find out what the fuck is going on because I don’t like being blindsided.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, and hangs
up.
“Bastard!” I curse, slamming the phone against the wheel when I see the trace has failed.
Removing my hand from Leeann’s mouth, I look at her and see the worry in her eyes. It makes me angry because he doesn’t deserve even the tiniest fragment of her concern for him.
“He didn’t dial this number by accident, and if you think for one second he was actually interested in your wellbeing, then you’re wrong. He knew you were here with me today. I told you he was involved, and that call was the proof. Death is the only acceptable repayment if a debt can’t be cleared with money, and when he signed you over, he knew exactly what he was doing. I may have taken you away from that place when they offered you to me, but I knew you were innocent. They expected me to hurt you, to kill you, but when I looked at you, death was the last thing I had in mind. I’m not the bad guy in all of this, and you don’t need to be afraid of me,” I tell her, then leaning in closer I whisper, “I do want to corrupt you though, pretty girl. I want to see you painted with their blood.” Then twisting the key, I restart the car.
Ignoring the hurt look on Leeann’s face, I concentrate on driving. I put my foot down the whole way home, filled with unease at what might be waiting for us when we arrive. I’ve got no idea what’s going on, so I can’t even begin to formulate a plan. I could call Lance back; maybe he’d have some fucking idea about all of this, but the fact I have fucked this up so badly makes me reluctant to speak to him.
Outside the house is a motorbike and not just any motorbike; a black, red, and silver Yamaha Fireblade is sitting on my driveway. Lance is here, fuck. I should’ve realized he wouldn’t be swayed from turning up, especially with me trying to blow him off during that phone call. He’s always been far too perceptive when it comes to me. I’ve no idea how I’m going to explain what the fuck I’m doing with Leeann. I should ask him for advice, but that would mean admitting how out of my depth I am.