Something Borrowed (New Castle Book 3)

by Lydia Michaels

  Her stomach rolled, thinking back to the last time she tried to run and how vicious Marcus had been when he caught her. “I can’t mess this up. If he catches me…”

  “Hush. You aren’t alone. Not yet, anyway. You need to focus and keep moving. Do you have the address I gave you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t put it in your phone. I don’t understand technology enough to know what can be tracked. You get a map from the library and don’t stop to ask directions along the way. Any trouble, use a payphone and call me. It’s a straight shoot down I-95 until you reach the exit.”

  “Okay.” It was happening. He was getting worse and the boys were no longer immune. She couldn’t stand another day under his roof and Regina was right. If he had one of his worst episodes he’d be watching her like a hawk. The time to move was now. She blew out a tense breath. “I’ll need an hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting. Be safe.”

  The phone clattered into the receiver, shaking with the tremor running through her arm. “Dayton, come on. We have to go.”

  When they reached the house she sat Mattie on the carpet and turned on the television. “Keep an eye on your brother.”

  “What about lunch?”

  “We’re going for a car ride. I’m going to pack something for along the way.”

  Rushing through the house, she quickly stuffed diapers into a bag for Mattie, and a few of their favorite toys and a change of clothes. Her heart jackhammered as she dumped the flour into the sink and scrambled to shake clean her money. Change slid down the drain but she caught most of it. White dust coated her hands as she rinsed the sink clean, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the soap.

  She made a sandwich for Dayton and packed several snacks in a bag and then raced upstairs. She rummaged through drawers, only selecting essentials that could remain hidden in her purse. Nothing promised this would be a success, so she had to plan for any excuse, should she get caught. She folded the wad of money into the secret pocket and stitched it shut. The nearly ten dollars in loose change would have to last her until she knew she was safe.

  She had no items of value aside from her wedding ring and diamond earrings. If she ran out of money, they would be a good safety net.

  Dressing in layers, like Regina said, she looked as if she was only planning for inclement weather and perhaps a day at the park. It had to look like that in case this didn’t work and he caught them.

  “Okay, boys, TV off. Mattie, come here so I can change your diaper.”

  “Where are we going?” Dayton asked.

  “It’s a surprise.” She couldn’t risk telling them in case this didn’t work out.

  Holding her purse, the diaper bag, and Mattie on her hip, she grasped Dayton’s hand and scanned the foyer one last time. Her eyes prickled with the urge to cry as fear and hope battled in her stomach. This was it. This had to be it.

  Her chest hurt as she backed away from the house. She didn’t care about leaving her home or her Williams Sonoma cookware, but it was petrifying to think she’d soon be parting from her boys. Leaving them was her only option. It was the safest way to throw Marcus off their trail, and chances were, he’d know something was up within an hour.

  She had no immediate family aside from her children and Marcus. Her parents died in an automobile accident eight years ago, a vulnerable and stupid time in her life when she needed someone to tell her everything would be okay. Sometimes monsters can say the right things—nice things—and appear to be angels. But they’re still monsters in the end.

  They’d been happy during those early years. She’d finished her master’s degree in psychology and started on her doctorate by the time they were married. Eventually, her career was pushed aside to start a family, but she didn’t mind because she’d always wanted children. Life was perfect—a beautiful suburban home, two nice cars, a husband that worked hard enough to support the life they wanted, and a baby on the way. Then everything changed.

  “Mom, can I have some snacks now?” Dayton called from his car seat.

  Chloe took the exit to I-95, heading south toward the Carolinas. Reaching into the diaper bag, she handed Dayton a sandwich and a cup of cereal for his brother.

  She was careful to follow the speed limit, but her foot weighed heavily on the gas. When she saw the first sign for North Carolina, her stomach started to cramp. They were almost out of Virginia when her phone buzzed.

  Marcus.

  He was attuned to every minute of her day and checked in often to make sure she was doing exactly what he wanted done. Some nights he’d lead her through the house, inspecting rooms and her domestic performance, an immaculate white handkerchief in hand. If she’d missed something, she’d pay. If she did a good job, more chores would be added. There was always a consequence and never a reward.

  Jaw locked, she seethed behind the wheel. No. More. Consequences.

  She’d lost the person she’d once been, become a woman she didn’t respect or recognize. This sniveling wife wasn’t who she was supposed to be. Her background in psychology was enough to diagnose her husband as a sociopath. But if she labeled him it was only fair to label herself, and she despised the idea of identifying her once independent self as a victim.

  “Mom, where should I put the trash?”

  “Just leave it on the seat for now.”

  She was done. She was never going back. This time it had to work. She had to stop thinking she’d get caught and start visualizing her success. She’d be happy again. Free.

  The car followed the exit and she rolled down the window. Her vibrating phone flashed with another missed call. No more. Hanging her arm over the edge of the door, the wind pulled at her fist gripping the phone. Her fingers let go and her eyes watched the mirror as the phone hit the asphalt and shattered. There was no turning back now.

  Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen played on the radio the second she crossed the state line. She wasn’t superstitious, but it had to be a sign. Her breath trembled in her chest as her vision blurred and she felt the first curve of a genuine smile tighten her lips. This was it. It was really happening.

  Regina waited in the parking lot of a Walmart. The poor woman had taken a flight and rented a car to meet them there in time. She handed Chloe a bag and didn’t waste time on formality.

  “You take this somewhere with no cameras and use it before you head north again, you hear?”

  Chloe nodded, her teetering fear chipping away at the euphoria that guided her this far. She’d never been apart from her boys and letting them go, even for a short while, seemed a gamble she might not survive.

  “Mattie has a little bit of a cold, but there’s medicine in his bag. He’s due for more in an hour.”

  Regina opened the back door of the rental. “You have everything you need out of your car?”

  Chloe nodded, holding her bag and car keys. She kissed her boys, trying not to cry in front of them. “You be good for Aunt Regina. Mommy will be right behind you.”

  “Why aren’t you coming with us?”

  “Because I have to take care of some things, baby. I’ll get there a few days after you.”

  “Where?”

  Anxious to leave, but dreading her final goodbye, she kissed Dayton’s cheek again. “A magical place called Pennsylvania. Wait until you see it. They have mountains and snow and playgrounds and everything you like. You’re going to love it.”

  “Is Daddy coming?”

  “We’ll see.” She swallowed. “You better get moving so you don’t miss the fun. I love you.”

  His little arms squeezed tight and she sniffled back her tears. She pressed a kiss into Mattie’s pudgy cheek. “Love you, monkey.”

  Thank God Regina was there because she couldn’t find the strength to step away. “Someone told me you boys like trains. If you peek in that bag there you’ll find a surprise.”

  Dayton nudged open the bag and gasped. “Thomas! Mom, it’s Thomas!”

  Chloe stood and faced Regina. “I ca
n’t thank you enough—”

  “Thank me when we know it’s over. For now, you have to go. The bus will be here in a few minutes.” She hugged her tight. “Don’t forget the bag.”

  Chloe watched them pull away, a sense of isolation stealing over her so precisely, she questioned if she’d made the wrong choice. Peeking into the bag, she found a box of auburn hair dye. The woman on the package looked so happy.

  Her head lifted as the rumble of a bus approached. She drew in a deep breath and tucked the dye into her purse. Looking back at the Volvo, she gave a shaky smile and dropped the keys on the pavement. She had a bus to catch.

  ****

  This couldn’t be happening. Sitting on the public restroom floor of the METRO Subway, Chloe rifled through her bag. Her fingers pierced the hole in the designer fabric, grasping nothing but air. Nausea skated through her stomach, her skin clammy. She emptied the contents of her purse. Cosmetics rolled across the filthy ground as she searched for her money. She squeezed her eyes shut as the urge to vomit swept through her. Gone, it was all gone.

  In a city like Baltimore where streets, alleys, and underground railways overlapped thicker than a thatched roof, there would be no retracing her steps. And if she did, the money she’d dropped would already been stolen.

  “No...” She crumpled the deflated fabric and flung the useless purse at the stall door.

  Her hands slapped the wall, the flat tile surface stinging her palms. What was she going to do? She’d spent days on the road, traveling far south to throw Marcus off her trail only to serpentine her way back north to her goal. But over two hundred miles still separated her from her boys and she had nothing left.

  Desperation seeped from her pores. Sifting through her scattered belongings, she found her travel sewing kit. Unable to think beyond the simple task of guiding the needle and thread along the tattered seam, she focused on mending the bag but her relentless trembling made the job almost impossible.

  A distant toilet flushed, feet shuffled, and water ran, as strangers moved about the restroom, ignorant to her turmoil. The pull and clunk of paper towels dispensing from the box on the wall punctuated each person’s exit. Normal—nothing like the jagged chaos living in her head.

  She bit down on the thread and carefully tucked the needle back into the sewing kit. It was irrelevant how she got to this point. What mattered, the only resounding thought she had, was reaching her children.

  She slowly placed her items back into her newly mended bag. Halfway there and only enough money for one phone call and maybe a vending machine dinner.

  She fought the urge to cry as she forced herself off the floor. She would not give up. She would not go back. She’d do whatever was necessary to reach her boys and they were going to live the happy life they deserved. Somehow she’d make it to them. She pulled back her shoulders and went to find the nearest payphone.

  * * * *

  Trenton Cole checked his watch again. What was she doing? Chloe Hunt had been in the subway bathroom for almost an hour. Had she fallen asleep? He wouldn’t be surprised. After tailing her for several days, her journey had even taken a toll on him. This job would have been wrapped up if he’d known where the kids were, but she’d been traveling alone—likely making a roundabout way to the children he needed to return.

  Marcus Hunt, a man he’d yet to meet in person, had contacted him soon after growing impatient with the police search for his wife and kids. He’d been hard pressed to calm his impatience, claiming his unstable wife had taken off with his two boys, Dayton and Matthew.

  Trent was a man of simple means, working a myriad of jobs revolving around security. Retrieving a human paid a hefty sum and could sustain him for quite some time. Returning three missing people could tide him over for half a year and Hunt was prepared to pay him handsomely.

  While playing bounty hunter was an exhausting pain in the ass, it was also financially liberating once the job was done. The astronomical sum of money Hunt offered for the return of his wife and children was impossible to turn down. Sure, Trent felt sorry for the man who worried for the safety of his sons, but he was mostly motivated by the payout.

  He secured fifty-thousand up front to more than cover the job’s expenses. Once the money was wired to his account, it was go time and off to the Carolinas he went. But even with such a high bounty, the pace of this specific runner was excruciating.

  She’d made her way to the hilly coasts of the Carolina’s—where Trent discovered her abandoned Volvo—and no traces of her or her children. After asking around, he discovered she’d taken a bus west then headed north again—without the children. It was as if they vanished into thin air or never existed at all, but she’d lead him back to the little ones. He just had to be patient.

  She’d slept on buses, in fleabag motels, or standing up against walls in narrow alleyways—ripe for the pickin’, but she was no good to him without the two boys. Her journey showed in her wrinkled clothes and ratty appearance. Like most runaways, she’d changed her hair from blonde to brown, but by her pictures, her face was pretty enough to pull off any color—when clean. The longer this merry chase continued the rougher she looked.

  Hunt claimed his wife was unbalanced and in need of psychiatric attention. Trent’s personal observations hinted this woman was not so much delusional and unstable as she was driven and scared. As much as she seemed to be running toward her children, she also appeared to be running away from something. But that wasn’t his problem. A hunter that wasted time on the feelings of his prey often failed to take down the target. He never hesitated and he always finished the job. The perfect opportunity would come and he’d get the three of them back where they belonged and have himself a nice, long, needed vacation.

  The door to the restroom opened and she finally emerged. Her face was clean of the grime from traveling and her shoulders were set. He threw his cup of coffee in the overflowing mound that was the subway’s trash receptacle and pushed off the wall.

  She stopped at a bank of payphones. Her wrinkled clothing was smeared with mud and her hair was limp and lifeless, yet she’d taken the time to apply lipstick to her small, worried mouth—strange. Trembling hands reached for the receiver of the telephone, but hesitated, dropping to her side. He eased closer, wanting to catch the area code.

  She took a steadying breath and reached for the phone again, this time pulling it toward her ear. Her dainty fingers with chipped, ruby nails deliberately traveled over the buttons.

  Six one zero. Pennsylvania. Bingo

  Her hand blocked the rest of the phone number, but he caught the area code. Standing by a cool stone pillar, he listened.

  “Regina?”

  He made a mental note to mention the name to Hunt. He said she didn’t have family, but maybe this was a girlfriend from college or someone from her past.

  “No, I’m okay.” Her head shook wearily. “Actually, I’m not okay.”

  She turned to the tracks, doing a brief scan of her surroundings. It was a nervous twitch. He lowered his gaze to his phone and watched her through the reflection of a glass partition, noting the way her unsteady fingers seemed to brush a tear from her cheek.

  “My money’s gone. I lost it all. There was a hole in my bag. I’m using my last dollar to call you.” She listened for a few seconds. “No, I won’t call him. There’s no going back now. If he ever finds me he’d beat me within a breath of my life. I’ll just have to… I’ll figure something out. How are the boys?”

  Trent’s shoulders tensed at her words, so belied by her expression when a smile trembled to her lips. Unstable? Or was it the mention of her sons that pushed that grin? Either way, the expression didn’t hold. She had to be exhausted. Maybe he could use her desperation against her, offer her a ride and convince her—as an uninvolved outsider—that getting back to Virginia was best. How kind of him to be willing to drive her both ways.

  His mind already worked over reasons why he’d be heading to Pennsylvania only to shoot back south again
. Usually, when people were this rundown their logic took a hit, so he shouldn’t need too solid of an explanation. He just needed to make her believe he was on her side—without his height and bulk working against him.

  Just under seven feet, cut muscle defined even through his clothes, he wasn’t exactly screaming, Hey, little girl, you’ll be safe with me. The scar on his face and tattoos on his arms didn’t help either. Luckily his clothes hid a good amount of his markings. And as a generally laid back guy, he’d mastered the gentle-giant thing. But even the gentlest giant could terrify a scared kitten. It wouldn’t be easy getting her to trust him, so he’d have to play on her desperation.

  “Make sure Dayton’s taking his vitamins. If he gives you a hard time, try the pink Flintstones. He likes them best. And if Mattie’s teeth are bothering him, there’s some Oragel in the inner pocket of the diaper bag. Just rub a little on his gums every few hours. How’s his cold?”

  He frowned at her concern, so selfless for a woman in her situation—out of money and far from the end of her journey. What drove her? Fear? Vengeance?

  Again he chastised himself for being so curious about the irrelevant facts. This was a kidnapping case. She stole two innocent children and their father wanted to find them. No parent, no matter what the situation, had a right to flee with the children.

  There were ways to legally exit a marriage and this wasn’t it. She was breaking the law and he was hired to return a man’s children. Just because she was the mother didn’t give her the right to steal another man’s kids. End of story. He couldn’t waste time in the gray areas. The law was black and white and his work insisted he abide it.

  This was a job. All feelings needed to take a backseat so he could get paid and get back to his own life.

  Those boys were definitely with this Regina person. Finally, he was making progress. But, again, her concerns didn’t seem to be the concerns of an unstable mother. As a matter of fact, her comments were rather selfless for a woman who lived on nothing but faucet water and vending machine food for several days. Something wasn’t adding up and it pissed him off that he wanted all the pieces of the puzzle.