The Forsaken Saga Complete Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Sophia Sharp

  And without another word, he turns away and starts to climb. The ladder creaks against the side of the building every time he shifts his weight. It seems as if the flimsy ladder is going to peel away from the mortar at any moment.

  I stand there, watching him climb. My anxiety about being left alone grows stronger every second. Suddenly, I realize that being by myself on enemy territory is highly discomforting.

  I shake my head and mutter an oath. “Rich! Wait!”

  He pauses, looking down. A knowing smile plays on his lips. “Yesss?” he drags out, casually, as if he has all the time in the world.

  I look left, then right, then close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Help me up.”

  --

  “Wow,” I exhale. “They really did a number on this place, didn’t they?”

  We’d climbed all the way up without the ladder toppling over. Now, I’m looking into Rich’s apartment through the window. Even though there was never much there, what little remains is almost beyond the point of recognition. The blankets have been thrown off the bed and torn to pieces. The pillows look like a pack of rabid dogs has been at them. The little corner TV is nothing more than shattered glass and broken pieces of electronics.

  Rich grunts in reply. He hooks his fingers under the window frame, preparing to pry it open. I see his forearm muscles strain. He heaves, pulls up—and the window slides as smoothly as if it were greased with oil.

  “Funny,” he remarks, “they didn’t lock it.”

  He pulls himself inside and gives me a hand to follow. My eyes dart over the floor, seeking my purse.

  I don’t see it.

  A hollow feeling hits me in the gut. My knees almost buckle under me. My purse… everything in there could be replaced, everything could be substituted somehow… except for one thing.

  The sides of my vision begin to darken. I feel alone, lost. The walls start to close in on me.

  Rich must have noticed. He puts his hand on my shoulder gently. “Look around,” he suggests, his voice soft and warm. “Maybe it’s hidden under something.”

  His touch brings me back to myself. The anguish flickers away. “Of course,” I mumble, feeling like an idiot. I pull myself together, and start upturning the ripped remains of Rich’s bed. Rich moves away.

  “Clever,” he says from the front door, a few moments later.

  “What?”

  “They put a garbage bag over the hole and police tape on the outside.” He opens the door to show me the yellow tape. “So that it doesn’t look suspicious.”

  “Huh.” I glance from my search—and freeze. A shiver runs down my spine. “Um, Rich, did you see that?”

  He turns his attention to what I’m looking at. A scowl passes across his face. “No,” he says. “I’ve glanced over that wall so many times I’ve lived here, I didn’t even notice… No.”

  There are words carved into the plaster of one wall. The letters are crude and chipped:

  THIS IS A WARNING.

  I walk up beside Rich, and trace my fingers over the wall. The harsh edges of the letters make the message even more ominous.

  “They did that with a knife?” I ask, stunned.

  “Or an axe,” Rich comments beside me.

  I give him a hard look. “Don’t scare me.”

  “I’m serious. You said you wanted to know what was going on.”

  Something occurs to me, and I walk to the corridor in Rich’s apartment. “Huh. They didn’t touch your boxes.”

  “I know.” Rich comes up to me. “Any luck with your purse?”

  “Not yet, but—”

  “Wait, isn’t that it over there?” Rich points to the corner of the room, where the remains of the TV lie scattered. I hadn’t looked there yet because I didn’t want to pick my way through the broken glass barefoot. Sure enough, peeking out from beneath the rubble is the familiar skinny black strap of my bag.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I rush toward it. Rich catches my arm. When I try to tug free, he doesn’t let go.

  “Let me,” he says. “I have shoes.”

  I nod, but I am dying with impatience. Rich crosses the room, squats down by the TV, and lifts my purse up by the strap. “This it?” he asks, smiling.

  I run to meet him in the center of the room. I snatch the purse from his grip and rip it open, then rifle through it with a ravenous hunger. When my fingers close around the familiar shape of my locket, I let out a magnificent sigh of relief. Like the sound of a hundred waterfalls breaking from the winter frost all at once.

  Never, never, never! I promise myself. Never will I let it leave my side again. I clutch the locket to my chest and let the purse drop to the floor. After a long moment, I hang it around my neck. I should never have taken it off.

  An annoyed grunt from Rich brings me back to the present. I open my eyes, and see him kneeling on the floor over my bag. “Penny,” he says gravely, “your wallet is not in here.”

  Chapter Four

  “So what the hell do we do now, Rich?” I’m freaking out. We’re back in his car, after he packed a small duffel bag of his stuff. Nothing else from his apartment was missing. His wallet was still there, along with all his money and documents. I’d found my shoes and sweater in the mess, and am now holding the wooly fabric close to my skin. “Huh? Tell me what. What the fuck do we do now?”

  “I’m thinking, Penny!” he exclaims. His booming voice ricochets around the cabin like a thunderclap.

  “Thinking isn’t going to get my wallet back,” I snap. “Thinking isn’t going to change the fact that the men who are after you know about me, too. We need to do something!”

  “What do you think I’m thinking about?” Rich demands.

  We stare at each other. I notice his nostrils flare as he breathes in and out. My breaths are coming hard, too. So they should be! The tension between us is so thick it fills the car, seething in the corners like billowing smoke. Rich’s eyes burn as he looks at me. I’m not about to back down.

  He breaks eye contact first. “Look,” he exhales, staring straight ahead, “there’s no point in us being angry with each other.” His tone softens. I can tell he’s trying to be conciliatory. But his words come out stiff. “I’ve been quiet because I’m considering our options. We can’t rush into things without having a clear mind. That would be the worst thing to do.”

  “I agree,” I admit reluctantly. I swallow my pride. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad, I know. But hell, Rich, this is a lot to take in.”

  He looks at me and offers a smile. “I know. We’ll get through this. I’ll get you out of it. I promise.”

  I give him a weak smile back. “I think I believe you.”

  He nods and starts the engine. “Good. We should stick together until we have a better idea of what we’re going to do next. But for now, you—” he glances over, “—need a change of clothes. Where do you live?”

  “Oh.” I blink. “Uh, actually, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  Rich gives me an odd look. “What do you mean?”

  I hesitate, not wanting him to pity me, nor wanting to look like the “poor girl” in his eyes. But, he’d given me the truth about his situation—and I don’t think telling lies at this point is a good idea. “I got evicted last night,” I mumble, “thanks to my roommate.” I give a bitter laugh. “They changed the locks so my keys to the door don’t even work.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for Rich to laugh or say something scathing. He surprises me by reaching over and taking my hand. “That’s what you were upset about last night?”

  I give a sullen nod.

  “And now you have to deal with all my shit. Jesus, Penny, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  He tightens his grip on my hand. Against all odds, I find comfort in that hold. “Okay, here’s what I think we should do next…”

  “The cops!” I exclaim suddenly. “Why don’t we go to them?”

  Rich shakes his head and releases my han
d to start driving. I feel a sting at the loss of his warmth. “No, the cops aren’t going to do anything. The guys who came after me aren’t your ordinary, run-of-the-mill money lenders. They’re well connected. They have moles in high places. The moment either of us walks into a police station, we’ll be on their radar. Speaking of which—do you have you cell phone?”

  “Yeah, it’s right here.” I reach into my purse. “Why?”

  “Take the battery out.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, not following. “What?”

  “Take the battery out and give it to me.” He holds out his hand. I sigh, and do as I’m asked.

  In one smooth motion he opens his window and throws the battery onto the street.

  “Hey!” I gasp. I spin around in my seat. The battery is already lost in the traffic behind us. “What the hell was that, Rich?”

  “A cell phone is one of the easiest things to track,” he explains patiently. “Even if it’s off, as long as there’s a battery inside, it will still send out a weak signal.” He surprises me by reaching into his pocket and tossing his own phone onto my lap. “See? Mine’s the same. No battery.”

  “You could have just told me,” I grumble. “I wouldn’t have put the battery back in if you said so.”

  “I didn’t want you to be tempted. I know how girls are.” I frown pointedly at him, and he laughs. “I’m kidding! Sort of. Anyway, I’ll buy you another battery once things cool down.”

  “I appreciate your charity,” I deadpan.

  “No problem,” Rich says, ignoring my sarcasm. “Anyway, as I was saying, even if you go to the cops, they won’t be able to protect you forever. And you can’t hide forever, either.”

  “Not forever,” I point out. “Just long enough for you to settle your debt.”

  “I told you, I did settle it,” Rich stresses.

  “That’s not what they think,” I note.

  “No, but they are wrong. Will you let me finish? We can’t go to the cops because of what I said. Our only option right now is to lie low until the heat blows over.”

  “And how long is that going to take? A day?” I pause. “Two days?”

  “A week,” Rich says seriously. “At least.”

  “A week!” I exclaim, aghast. “Rich, I can’t just drop everything and hide for a week! I have my own life out there, things I have to deal with! I have class, and work, and my roommate, my apartment…” I trail off as I feel hot tears building behind my eyes. I’m determined not to show him my weakness. I look out the window, and take a few deep breaths to compose myself.

  “Hey,” he says gently, “I know it’s a lot to take in.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, but I twist away.

  “No shit!” I snarl. “It IS a lot to take in! You can’t just uproot me from my life like that!”

  “Trust me,” Rich says seriously. “I never planned on having things end up this way. But we’ve got to play the hand we’re dealt. Right? I thought you’d be safe to go by now, too. I never expected them to find your wallet. But we’ve got to take certain precautions now—”

  “Take me to the cops,” I demand.

  Rich stops, frowns. “What?”

  “Take me to the police station, Richard,” I repeat slowly. “Right now!”

  “I’ve told you—”

  “No. It doesn’t matter. You said it yourself: None of this is supposed to concern me.” I take a deep breath. “So, what does it matter to you what I do? I’d rather take my chances with the cops than run away and hide for a week with you. No offense. At least I’ll know they have my best interests at heart.”

  “Oh, and I DON’T?” Rich roars. His eyes darken again, his brows furrow, and he scowls at me like some angry demigod. I can see the passion in his eyes.

  An instant later his expression softens, and the anger fades. “Penny, listen. I’m just trying to keep you safe. I told you what will happen if you go to the police. You’ll be caught. I know it shouldn’t matter to me…” he runs a hand through his hair, “…but it does. It does! Okay? I know we barely know each other, but I care about what happens to you. Really, I do.”

  He gives a strained chuckle. “You don’t share what we had last night and pretend it doesn’t matter. I can’t just forget about you like that. If you really want to go to the cops… I’ll bring you. I won’t force you to stay with me. But it’s not a smart move. And if anything happens to you because of it, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

  His confession is so heartfelt it moves me. I didn’t know I mattered to him so much

  “So?” Rich asks, looking at me. “What’ll it be, Penny? You want me to drop you off at the station?”

  “I…” I draw a deep breath. “I trust you, Rich. But… a week? Really?” My shoulders slump despondently. “I just can’t disappear for that long.”

  “A day, then,” he suggests. “You said you’d be fine with that at the start. Remember?” He rolls over my weak attempt at a protest. “A day somewhere safe where we can both get some rest and think things through. Maybe it doesn’t have to take a week. Maybe I’ll find a way to sort things out earlier. But give me a day, at least, before you go to the cops. That way, I’ll know I’ve done all I can to protect you.”

  I close my eyes, and take another deep breath. I know I’m in no state of mind to make any serious decisions now. A day of rest does sound awfully tempting. Besides, maybe Rich is right. Maybe going to the cops this early is a bad idea. He knows a hell of a lot more about these people than I do.

  “Okay,” I nod finally. “Okay. You can have your day.”

  --

  Rich leaves me alone in a motel room on the outskirts of town. He makes me swear not to touch the phone in our room. I agree.

  I sit on the bed. It sings out to me with the promise of a few minutes’ rest. I don’t know how long Rich will be gone. But I’m too anxious to sleep. I feel like a fugitive on the run in one of those old Western moves—except the people chasing me are the bad guys.

  I lie back and wonder how different things would have been if I hadn’t let Rich buy me that drink. Or if Abby hadn’t spent our monthly rent on drugs and booze. Or if I’d turned away from Rich after telling him my name at the all-night diner, then wandered over to the library to sneak in a few hours of sleep—

  No! I banish those thoughts. Regret never got me anything. The only way to move forward in life is to press on and persevere.

  Persevere. That’s exactly what I’ve done my entire life. Persevere. Endure. Survive.

  I hadn’t known either of my parents growing up. The only clues about their identity came from the director at the orphanage. He’d told me that one night, a woman in a tattered, ruined coat came by to drop off a bundle of clothes at the door. Except the bundle wasn’t empty. I was asleep inside. I was naked, wrapped up in old, dirty shirts, but around my neck hung the only possession I still have to this day: the small metal locket.

  That was all I had ever known about my mother. Nobody caught her name, and my teenage attempts to track her down proved fruitless. I suspected she was a prostitute. It was common among kids with similar sob-stories in the orphanage. I don’t hate her for it, or resent her in any way. What I feel toward her now is… nothing. Absolutely nothing. She is a stranger. She made the choice to leave me when I was a babe. In fact, the only reason I’d ever tried tracking her was to see what she could tell me about my dad.

  I didn’t know anything about him, either. But one day, when I was about fifteen, a letter arrived at the orphanage. It was addressed to me, and written in a flowery, feminine hand. “To my beloved daughter,” it began. I remember the flash of hope I felt when my eyes found the words.

  The next line destroyed my entire world.

  “I am legally obliged to inform you that your father is dead.”

  That was it. No signature, no name, no offers of sympathy or compassion. Just the cold, cruel words: “Your father is dead.”

  I’d crumpled up the sheet and thrown it across the room,
my tears coming freely. I’d always held out hope that the man I knew from the locket would, one day, come and find me. Young as I was, I knew it for a false hope. But, I clung to it fiercely. It helped me through many miserable days and nights.

  After the arrival of the letter, I didn’t even have that hope anymore.

  I finger the small metal locket idly. I know it’s made of silver, because to this day, there isn’t a speck of rust on it. I’d almost thrown it away the day I received the letter. I’d gone to a nearby bridge and dangled it from my fingertips over the rushing waters below. Then the wind blew, nearly snagging it from grip. I’d snatched it back on instinct. Only then did I understand the mistake I’d almost made. Many kids in the orphanage knew nothing at all about their parents. I, at least, had the locket.

  Persevere, and survive. That’s how I’d gotten through nineteen years of life. That’s what I would have to do right now. Whatever news Rich came back with, I’d face it head-on, and continue to survive.

  A yawn escapes my lips. I feel my eyes drifting shut. The mattress beneath me is full of lumps and broken springs. But it’s not the worst I’ve ever slept on. I roll to one side and move my hips to a more comfortable position. Then, I close my eyes completely and drift off into a troubled sleep.

  --

  A loud knocking startles me awake. My eyes go wide. For a second, I believe I’m back in Rich’s apartment, and those men are trying to break in. Then I hear Rich’s voice through the door. “Penny? Hey, Penny, open up!”

  I push myself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The door is ajar about an inch, and a stream of light floods in from outside. I’d forgotten that I’d hooked the door chain when Rich left. I open it and let him in.

  “You look a lot better,” he observes. “You get some rest?”

  “A little,” I admit. I look around, but don’t see a clock. “How long have you been gone?”

  “Just over an hour. Here.” He lifts a plastic bag. “I got you some food. I figured you’d be hungry?” For some reason, he forms it as a question.

  I smile and nod. “Famished. Thanks. I wouldn’t think you’d have realized.”