by Marie Wathen
“Do you know Charlie?” I ask, hearing my weak voice, sounding like it is coming from far away.
“No, but Kole and Raithe are familiar with him.” I nod and wrap my arm around his stomach placing my cheek against his chest. “Inside the new packets were more guns and phones with text messages, instructing them to toss the old ones again. Also they were each given a bottle of chloroform.”
I gasp then clamp my hand over my mouth while mumbling, “Oh my God.”
He tightens his hold on me, brushing his fingers through my hair soothingly, but he doesn’t stop telling me everything. “Ten minutes later they each received an image text stating that they were to locate the girl in the picture and abduct her. He claimed that the picture was of a young girl who he wasn’t familiar with, but recognized her as the target from the night before.” Marcus removes my hand, clasped tightly over my mouth, and kisses the back of it while trying not to frown. Clearly he is just as bothered by the details of my planned murder as I am.
“I’m dealing,” I reassure him, lacing our fingers together. Tucking me under his chin, he presses his lips against the crown of my head and continues telling the remainder of the story.
“He said they lucked out finding you in the parking garage, but weren’t prepared for the other girls. Before getting out of the car, the one called Major insisted on taking the girl with the long blonde hair, leaving Charlie with the goth chic. At the mention of Waverly, Morgan went batshit crazy on him. I could have sworn that he looked down at my gun and licked his lips, like he was thinking he could get it off me and kill the fucker. If the guy wasn’t days from death, I might have given him easy access to it. Tac threatened to kick his ass out if he didn’t calm down. Eventually Morgan’s anger got the better of him and he cussed Charlie, like what happened was personal. At that point, Tac insisted that Morgan leave the room after the guy’s heart rate spiked.”
“Poor Morgan,” I sigh, feeling the guilt crushing me. “If not for me, Waverly wouldn’t be taken and Morgan could be with her now. He really loves her and…”
“Listen to me,” he demands solemnly, hearing the remorse in my tone. Tipping my face upward again, he states, “You are not to blame.” I nod morosely, not really hearing him because I’m still so heavily immersed in the painful realization that someone really wants me dead. I just don’t understand why. Who could hate me enough to want to kill me?
Refusing to debate this topic to death again, I ask, “The girls?”
“The last time that he saw Anna and Waverly, was after boarding a large cargo ship.” Marcus strokes a hand over my face lovingly. “Apparently, the other guy, Major, had another plan for the girls. According to Charlie, about a hundred miles out to sea, a small boat pulled alongside them. Major spoke with five masked men who boarded. Moments later they opened fire. Charlie was hit immediately, but it wasn’t a fatal shot. While pretending to die, he continued watching the crazy scene unfold. Five other men began dragging all of the women, some were conscious, but most were completely incapacitated, onto the smaller boat. Major and the ten shooters climbed aboard with them and then sped off, leaving everyone else on board to die.”
“Wow,” is all I can say.
“Tac is hitting up his contacts to see if anyone knows about a small ship docking anywhere near Central America around that time frame. This happened almost two weeks to the day of the abductions. The only other thing he could add was how concerned Major was about drugging Anna and Waverly. The guy kept insisting that they not be doped, but Charlie said he wasn’t going to go against any of the instructions.” He says, “They used Ryske on the girls.”
“My God,” I exhale the words, struggling to drag in more air. “This is insane.”
“We’ll get them, the girls and the last guy,” Marcus promises, squeezing me in his arms and I nuzzle against his chest, breathing in his warmth and feeling soothed from our lovemaking. After a while, I doze off and when I awake again, he is dressing.
“What are your plans for today?” I ask, stretching and yawning before I sit on the side of the bed.
“I’m off to meet Raithe to check out the marina. Hopefully, we’ll luck up. Even if we don’t locate the boat, we can drag the bottom of the ocean. We might locate the dumped guns and phones.” I nod while staring off into space. “Are you working tonight?” he asks, bending over and knotting the laces in his black boots.
“No,” I say, shaking my head and remembering the run-in with Miller. I’ve decided to wait on telling him about that craziness. We both have too many other things to deal with right now. Besides, I have to trust that Raithe handled the spiteful bitch.
“Damn, that’s good to hear.” Standing over me, he draws me up and crushes his lips to mine. Breathing against my swollen bottom lip, he confesses, “I fucking need you.”
Chapter Nine
Morgan
“Come in,” Candy says, smiling while holding open the door to her hotel room. Her dark brown hair shimmers in the early afternoon sunlight, fading in through the window behind her. Damn, she is even more beautiful than I remember. I walk in casually, crossing the span of the small hotel room before turning around. She shuts the door and leans her back against it, her eyes focused on the space in front of her feet. She clears her throat and swallows hard while pushing a long dark lock behind her ear. “Morgan,” she starts and then takes a gravelly breath before looking up at me, a small smile plays on the corner of her pink lips. “Thank you for coming.”
“How did you find me?”
“Twitter,” She makes that one word sound more like a question than an answer. “You have over three thousand tweets about this place, making it easy for anyone to find you. Once I arrived, I just asked around. Saying that you’re well-known is the understatement of the decade.” She snorts and her lips curl into a full-blown wicked grin. It’s possible that she’s telling the truth. I do love the hell out of Twitter and Instagram, but something still feels off about her coming here.
Watching her suspiciously, I ask, “Candy, why are you really in Willow?” Sliding my hands into my front pockets, I narrow my eyes on her, not really expecting her to tell me the truth but ready for her to cut the crap.
“I’m here to make sure that you’re okay, Morgan.”
“Nuh uh, I’m not buying it,” I counter not willing to fall for her bullshit again.
“It’s the truth.” She sighs. “After you disappeared, I freaked out. I took the information I knew and did a Google search. It was really too easy. And since I could find you so easily, I thought Tony’s men could, too. I needed to see you…to know that they didn’t hurt you.”
“Fine,” I state, holding my arms stretched out wide and turning around once. “You’ve seen me. Now, I have shit I need to do, so…”
“Wait, please.” She holds up her hands as I approach the door. Tilting my head, I arch an eyebrow, waiting expectantly to see if she’s lying about the reason she tracked me down. “Can I see you again?”
I laugh. “What?”
“Well, I’ve been here for a week and there have been no signs of those guys, so I was thinking about staying and…”
“You thought we could pick up where we left off,” I state rather than ask. “No can do. I get it. We had one hot night…” She giggles rudely, suggesting our bedtime shenanigans weren’t all that, but I ignore her and continue. “But…I’m not that guy anymore. If you feel safe here, I’m glad. Stay here and get your shit together, but we aren’t going to happen again.”
“Oh, Morgan,” she laughs some more. What is this woman’s problem? “That is not what I was looking for, at all. I was actually just hoping for a friendship, like I asked for before you left. Remember?”
“Huh,” I scratch my chin thinking about her offer. “You know that just might be doable.” Now that I’ve got her here and she’s planning on staying, maybe her piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend could be someone I can contact for knowledge into the world of sex slaves. Tac will get a fucking hard-on wi
th this new contact. “Okay, yeah, friends,” I confirm, holding out my hand, which she accepts and shakes while smiling proudly.
“Thank you,” she whispers after letting out a heavy breath.
“All right, well, I’ve got to jet.” I reach for the doorknob and she places a hand on my arm.
“It was great to see you again, Morgan.”
Away from her now, I suddenly feel a strong warning sensation tapping somewhere remotely in the back of my head, telling me that Candy’s trip to the island isn’t just for her safety. Then my mind flashes back to our one night in a Vegas hotel a couple of months back. After waking up from our all-night drunkfest, I rushed to flee from the mind-blurring scene, but froze in place when an unopened Trojan packet toppled from my trousers. Oh God, did I fuck myself royally this time? Did Candy come here to tell me that she’s pregnant?
Dazedly pulling away from the downtown hotel, I spot Marcus racing recklessly through the streets and decide to follow him. I have a couple of hours to kill before meeting up with Tac so that we can approach Jack with assisting us in our plans. Marcus rounds the corner at a high rate of speed, and I press the gas nearly to the floor attempting to catch up with him. What the hell could be so damn important for him to speed? Oh shit, I hope nothing else bad has happened. Fear takes over my intellect and I begin driving like my twin. Flooring it, I cut the corner a little fast and too wide, nearly ramming head-on into a oncoming car me in the other lane. Jerking the steering wheel back to the right, I avoid striking two parked cars by mere inches and straighten it out just in time to spot Marcus’ Jeep pulling into the marina. Finding oxygen again and cussing loudly, I slow down since I know there’s no other way for him to exit except to pass me. I follow in the direction that I see him drive and after twenty minutes of trolling around the docks, I can’t find my brother anywhere. However, I do spot Raithe so I pull up and hop out, curious about what in the heck he’s doing with all the dive equipment.
“What’s up, Morgan?”
“Hey, Raithe,” I reply, approaching him and a couple of other men. “What’s happening here?”
“Got some leads on the abductions so we’re dragging the bottom and hoping to find some evidence.” He glances at the two guys pulling on air tanks before turning back to me. My gut wrenches thinking back to that motherfucker we left living in a hospital bed who was here plotting Breesan’s death and abduction, but ended up taking my Waverly. “Marcus should be here soon.”
“Actually, he’s already here,” I tell him, pulling myself out of my angry stupor. “I followed him in. Guess he got lost.” I shrug.
“Doubtful,” Raithe chuckles while shaking his head, looking out toward the marina entrance. “He’s the one that told me about the point of interest.”
Turning and facing the same way, I rub the back of my neck vigorously, where something strikes me as an important detail that I should pay attention to. This is odd for Marcus, but whatever. He’s a big boy, and what he does isn’t my concern.
“Hey, I’m heading out,” I tell Raithe, who isn’t even aware that I’m still standing beside him, and walk back to my car. “Talk later, dude.”
“Sure,” he mumbles while helping his buddies into the ocean.
Driving back to the entrance, I spot Marcus parked next to a white passenger car. When he spots me, he pulls away from the other vehicle, which tears off, leaving the marina. Letting my window down, I ease up next to him, still watching the taillights of the suspicious vehicle.
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to gauge his response.
“Just on my way to meet Raithe.” He responds casually, avoiding eye contact by glancing down and picking up his phone that is resting in a cup holder. Without making eye contact, he turns his attention toward me. “What are you doing down here?”
“Wanted to talk,” I admit. “If you’re free, but don’t let me hold you up.”
He narrows his eyes, looking through the front windshield, and nods. “I need to help Raithe, but I can give you a few minutes.”
“Cool, uh…” I glance around the marina before looking back at Marcus.
He points to a spot under a canopy near Raithe’s dive crew and suggests, “Let’s park there.” I make a u-turn and follow him. He leaps down from his Jeep, and I climb out of my Z4. The doors are off, so he just leans back with his ass on the open door frame, legs crossing at the ankles and arms folding over his chest condescendingly. “So, let’s have it.”
I sit on top of the hood of my car, legs dangling below me and nod in response. “I spoke with Tac and he has given me some details about what’s really going on with your group.” His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t interrupt. Marcus always likes waiting for all the information before jumping in and telling me his opinion. “Also, I got more inside dirt from Sam. She wasn’t happy about relaying it, and I understand the situation, but I don’t think keeping me out of the loop is smart. I may not be a cop like the rest of you, but I have shit to offer, like amazing contacts, that could help. At least that’s what Tac thinks. I’m telling you all of this because I want you to understand that whether you want me in ass-deep or not, I want it. With my associates on the outside,” I glare off toward the shore, “You’ll have fresh leads that will hopefully gain you Dr. A.” From the corner of my eye, I see him bob his head, never taking his eyes off me. “Dr. A is your ultimate goal; getting the girls back is mine. I need it.”
“Why?” It’s a simple question, but one that threatens to do bad shit to me. I shake my head, not prepared to answer. “Anna really means this much to you, Morgan? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“I’ve left open some really deep wounds. Before all of this started, none of them mattered to me.” I turn my attention to him. “The rip between you and me didn’t matter.” He shrugs but glances away, and I know from that little gesture he is anything but cool with our situation. “Marcus, Elise told me shit.” That garners his glare again. “She made me believe that you were using her and for some fucked-up reason, I believed her.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it, Morgan. It has always been the problem between us. You believe the worst about me and side with anyone who enjoys tearing me down. But I don’t give a fuck. I don’t need you to validate me or my actions. I couldn’t care less if my twin finds it so hard to believe that I could actually be better than a piece of shit. I know what I’m about and that’s good enough.”
Damn, that was a gut check. “You’re right. I didn’t care to listen to a damn thing you had to say and wanted all the bad shit to be true.”
“Whatever,” he uncrosses his legs and stands upright, retreating.
“Things change, situations change and people can change,” I offer, but he cuts me off before I can finish my thoughts.
“I don’t need it…an apology… or an explanation, whatever this is,” he snarls. “I don’t fucking want to know how sorry you are, or what you intend to do about it now.” His smug look pisses me off, but strangely, his words sound well-rehearsed, like he was prepared for this confrontation.
“Fuck you!” I shout glaring at him. “I only ask for your forgiveness. Nothing else is necessary, but if you’d rather stay pissed off, that’s fine. I’m not doing it for you.” He smirks, indicating my selfish behavior. “Or for my fucking self,” I defend, angrier than before. “This is about others. Hard to believe? What the fuck ever. But, yeah, I actually give a damn and want to help. I don’t need your permission, but I don’t want opposition either.”
“Who do you give a damn about, Morgan?” He pins me in place with an arched eyebrow, waiting for my response. “Anna?”
“Yes, Anna,” I confirm, but my strong fortress, hiding back the depth of my real feelings, splits with a demanding shift. Suddenly, I want to tell him the truth about everything. “Waverly.” I swallow down the lump in my throat, and my pride, before confessing, “I must get her back. I can’t live without her.”
Several quiet bothersome moments later, he asks, “But
what if you had to do just that? Could you sacrifice what you believe to be love for her safety, for Waverly’s happiness?”
Anger pierces into my chest with a speed faster than that of light. “I won’t hurt her again.” The sickening guilt joins in the assault on my chest, forcing me to include, “As much as it will fucking rip me to shreds, whatever she needs is what I’ll do. I’ve already tattooed enough pain onto her heart. All I want is her safe and happy, which means I won’t be part of her life again. It’s unfair for me to continue subjecting her to my selfish needs. Getting her back to her family is my only goal.”
Finally pushing out every ounce of the anger and guilt, sadness encapsulates my heart incalculably. Waverly deserves a happy life, complete with epic love, her heart’s desires in all things and gorgeous little babies with entrancing clear-blue eyes. I factor into none of that because I will only ever offer Waverly infinite heartache.