I lean back to inspect the outside, then stick my head back in. I do this two more times.
It's bigger on the outside.
Not by much, but definitely bigger.
I tilt back again to look to the left and right sides.
Bingo.
I move inside to the left wall and shove with my hands. Damn, what the hell is this wall made of? I actually have to put some muscle into it. The wall moves back a good foot to reveal one long slit of open floor. I hesitate to peer down, not knowing what to expect. I gesture to get Charlie's attention and point to what I've discovered. He goes back and forth from watching the outside and leaning in to get a better view.
I'm not sure how to get down there. I can guarantee I would get stuck, and Charlie's almost my same build.
I motion for Charlie to hand me a pebble next to him. I drop it down, listening for when it hits the ground. My guess it's only a few feet. Yeah, no way in hell can I fit in there. Even if by some crazy miracle I squeeze down, I'd have to travel on my stomach. There's no way I could protect myself that way, let alone help Arianna if she's even in there. This might only be a place for drugs, weapons, or money. It certainly doesn't seem big enough to fit a human.
If anyone's in there I'm sure they heard me scooting back the wall. No matter how quiet it sounded out here, it had to have echoed in there.
“Arianna,” I whisper the best I can, wanting her to answer but at the same time not wanting to think that she's been in there with less room to move than a coffin.
No response. I wait a few seconds because I really don't want to leave until I know what this place is for.
“Jay?” I hear a dry, hoarse voice.
Relief hits me at the same time the guilt does. I just pray she hasn't been in there long.
I lift off my mask so the words will be clearer, “Yeah, A, it's me. Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Can you get out?”
“Where are they?” She asks.
“The place's empty.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Vault's men are in there now doing a second sweep.”
“Promise?” She's scared. Well great, doesn't that make me feel even more like shit.
“I promise. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you.”
She lets out a cynical laugh.
That stings, but I deserve it.
“It's too dark for me to see in there. Can you get to me?”
I hear her body sliding.
“Is it safe for me to put my hand in?” That's when I see her fingers poking up through the dark. Dirt is caked under her nails and covering her hands. I hear a sob of relief escape as our fingers meet.
I officially feel like the shitiest human being alive.
“I'm going to pull you out.” I'm hoping if they could get her in, I can get her out. “Give me both of your hands.”
Fuck, her hands are like icebergs.
Once I have a good hold of them I begin pulling her up, careful not to yank too hard not knowing the state she's in. My gunshot wound isn't healed and I pray I don't pop another stitch as it stretches, crying out for me to stop. I'm going to pay dearly for this later.
Her arms make their way up and I see the top of her head as she turns it to fit through the opening.
Afraid I might dislocate her fragile, weak arms, I grip her under the armpits to pull her the rest of the way out.
I cringe as I hear her skin scrape against the cement and the pained cry she lets out as it unnaturally pushes her breasts flat.
I hold in my fury, when inch by inch I see her naked flesh and the bruises and gash marks covering her filthy skin.
Somebody's going to pay for this.
Guilt punches me in the gut. That somebody should be me.
Arianna clings to me when she makes it all the way out, her whole body shaking. I want to take off my shirt to cover her, but she's holding me too tight.
A shirt is shoved in my face. I take it from a bare chested Charlie and get Arianna to let go enough that I can pull it over her freezing skin. This shirt will do nothing in the way of warmth, but I'm sure she doesn't want the other men seeing her naked body when I carry her out.
I begin to stand and my wound screams in protest, buckling my knees. I hold in the urge to roar out a curse from the pain.
Charlie bends down to extract her from me.
“No!” She objects, holding on to me tighter, her teeth chattering in my neck.
I have to shove down my anger, knowing there's only one reason she doesn't want men to touch her.
“It's okay, you're safe,” I reassure her. “Charlie would never hurt you.”
“Jay's recovering from a gunshot wound. He might damage himself if he carries you,” Charlie speaks, rubbing circles on her back and lifting back his mask. “If it helps, I'm gay. I have no interest in what you have to offer.”
He's not, but man, I'm hoping this is the reassurance she needs. Carrying her would hurt like a bitch.
“I'll be right next to you,” I add. “Nothing will happen.”
She reluctantly lets go and allows Charlie to cradle her in his arms.
“Oh, you're warm,” she whispers, pressing herself closer to him. “I'll make sure Jay kills you if that hand travels up any further.”
Charlie softly chuckles, “The thought never crossed my mind.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, A, he'd much rather get a good squeeze out of mine,” I tease, making Charlie smile for the second time since we've met.
“Nah,” he continues our banter that has Arianna smiling and her body relaxing, “Your ass isn't plump enough for me, and all those muscles? Disgusting. Who would find that attractive?”
Arianna lets out a small giggle and Charlie has a satisfied grin for a fraction of a second.
One of the guards pulls out a blanket from the house and hands it to me before we get inside the SUV. I place it over Arianna, Charlie tucking it around her. She buries her face inside it, hiding away, staying on Charlie's lap as we drive back to Vault's.
I grab a water bottle and bring it to her chapped lips. She takes a few small sips, keeping the blanket up to block the side of her face from the others. The Arianna I know could hardly wait to see men dissolve around her.
“How long were you in there?” I ask, even though I don't really want to hear the answer. I'm afraid it will be another memory that plagues me.
“A couple days, when he heard Vault's men were on the hunt. That's where he liked to keep me when he was done,” she mutters, voice stifled by the blanket, her body trembling some more.
“Shh, we can talk about this later. First, we need to get you checked out and fed.”
“No, please, Jay!” She cries, burying herself away in the blanket. Charlie's whole body locks and I can tell he's wanting to murder the man that did this to her, “I don't want anyone touching me. Please, I can't let another man touch me.”
“We can get a woman, but you need to be checked out.”
The blanket moves from what I assume is her head nodding in agreement.
The rest of the trip back to the bank, I take my self-loathing to another level. I now know with certainty I don't want this life anymore, not any part of it. I want to be able to live with myself.
Chapter 4
Wednesday, February 5
3:36am
I'm sitting on my couch, mindlessly watching television. Arianna's in the shower after the female doctor checked her out and cleaned up her wounds and gashes brought on by the man who had had her. The doctor told me she had been raped in every place you can rape a person. I'm pretty sure nobody can hate themselves more than I do right now.
Arianna told me everything she could, which wasn't much, but I relayed the details to Vault. He can decide if the people involved are worth going after. I'm done with that life.
She comes out in the sweats I had found for her and sits on the opposite end of the couch. We both pretend to be payi
ng attention to what's on. Halfway through the program Arianna scoots over, sitting right next to me, placing a hand on my thigh.
“Thanks for rescuing me.”
I wince because it's my fault she was there in the first place, and she's looking at me like I'm a goddamn hero.
I place my hand over hers, happy that there is some warmth to it again, “I'm sorry for not getting you out of that hotel room when I had the chance.” I'm not usually one for apologies. You live with the actions you make and move forward, but telling her that was almost freeing. I give her hand a squeeze.
Her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Jay,” she says with the first amount of happiness I've seen from her. She climbs over me and wraps her arms around my neck.
I freeze in response and place both hands next to my sides on the cushion. I don't think I'll ever enjoy being this close to someone. Except Lily, but she seems to be the exception to all my rules.
“I knew you just needed to see how much I matter to you. Now you finally understand how I've felt all these years.”
What the fuck is she talking about?
I try pushing her back to her seat but she won't budge.
Arianna groans in my ear and grinds down on me, reaching her hand down to massage between my legs, “I've missed this. I've missed us.”
I grab hold of her biceps and lift her off of me and onto the seat she first occupied.
Frowning, she reaches over again for my cock. I grip her wrist to stop her.
She seductively lowers her voice and gives me her sexy, coy smile, “What's the matter?”
“Seriously?” I sneer.
“Is it because of her,” she spits out her like it's venom in her mouth.
“Of course it fucking is.” I'm not even going to deny it anymore and pretend Lily means nothing to me. “I thought you liked her. You two seemed to be the best of friends,” I say this sarcastically, because their new friendship (or whatever the fuck it is) bothered me then and it bothers me now. No one wants the woman they had dirty, kinky animal sex with to be friends with the woman they want to spend forever with. That's a recipe for disaster if I ever heard one.
“You don't miss what we have, what we've had?” Her voice is soft and almost vulnerable, not a common trait for her.
No, I didn't, but I couldn't tell it to her like that. The old me would have, but since Lily I've realized you can word things so you don't come off like a complete jerk. I still don't understand what's so wrong with being straightforward, but whatever, I'll play by the rules for her.
I try softening my voice to sound more compassionate, “Arianna, we were kids when we met...” more like horney fucking teenagers. “Can you even tell me anything about myself that doesn't involve The Marker or jobs?”
“Nobody can. You're locked up tighter than Vault's...vault,” she grins.
“Lily can. She knows me better than anyone.” Sometimes I think she understands me better than I do myself.
“You can tell me things too, you always could. I would practically beg you to open up to me.”
She did. I actually feel a little bad about that. I basically would roll into whatever town she was currently conning, look her up, fuck the shit out of her, and if she tried talking or cuddling after I would get up and leave. I'd used her to get laid because I didn't like dealing with people I didn't know. Human interaction and contact was too awkward for me – still is, but I'm working on it.
“I get what you like about her,” she continues when I have yet to answer her, “I really do, but she's not like us.”
Thank God for that. The fact that Lily's the exact opposite of me is one of the things that drew me to her. I wanted to figure out how someone close to my age could still be so naïve and innocent; it fascinated me. She's trusting of others and lets her vulnerability show, exposing her emotions for everyone to see. Something Arianna and I could never do.
“You wanted me at the club when she was there,” she points out, remembering the way I'd looked at her and danced with her.
I'm going to sound like a jackass, but I'm not sure how else to put it, “I was faking it. I was afraid if I didn't pretend to still want you, you'd see right through me and how I really felt about her. I'm extremely paranoid when it comes to her safety.”
“I'm more beautiful than she is,” Arianna adds, like that should be reason enough, completely ignoring what I said.
“There's different kinds of beauty. You can never be Lily's kind of beauty.” No one can, at least not to me. Lily's beauty makes my stomach and heart do funny things. Her smile alone knocks me on my ass. When she looks at me with those eyes, so trusting and full of love, it makes me want to be the kind of man she deserves, the kind of man she believes I am. Arianna's beauty is that rare gem you put on display to tease others with and remind them of their imperfections.
“You're the only one I've ever met that my looks have no affect on,” she whispers. The sadness I see is unnatural for her; she's just as good at hiding her emotions as I am.
What she said isn't entirely true. I always thought she was hot and couldn't wait to get my hands on her body, but I also wouldn't have cared if she had told me to fuck off and leave her alone.
“You ever wonder if the only reason you had feelings for me was because I never viewed you as a trophy?”
Her lips curve down for a brief second as the tears in her eyes begin to well up, “That's the only reason I survived for so long with him,” she says “him” in a tortured, pained voice, wiping away a fallen tear. The darkness she just stepped into can be felt. “I was too pretty to dispose of. That's why my face was left unharmed. I'd almost prefer it if it wasn't, if somehow my beauty could have been taken away.”
“That's all I've ever been to anyone,” she continues, her body slightly curling into itself while her eyes turn vacant and haunted. “A pretty face, one to bend and fuck however they want. What's worse is I would let them. I would let you, needing any kind of attention I could get to make the loneliness go away.” The laugh she lets out sends a chill down my spine, because it's the most depressing, sad noise I've ever heard, “Be careful what you wish for. I don't think I'll ever be able to get past what was done to me.”
Aw, shit. I lean forward into my hands, cradling my face. I broke someone who's already broken. I just secured my place in hell. But really, who am I kidding? I was destined for that trip a long time ago.
“Did I really just try to throw myself at you?” She chuckles in an awkward, forced way.
I let out a laugh, which is muffled in my hands, “Yeah, I think you did.”
“I'm really fucked up in the head right now. Can we please pretend I didn't just do that?”
“Yup,” I quickly respond, lifting my head to see she's staring out the window in front of us.
“How do I get past what I'm feeling? How do I move forward with my life, remembering what's been done to me?”
“You don't. You just try and find a way to live through it.”
“Will you help me?”
“Yeah. Yeah I will,” I promise, perking up for the first time since watching Lily get on the elevator to get Vault's stupid-ass fucking file. Maybe I can redeem myself, if it's possible. Even if it's not, I can know I died trying to be a better man, a better person. For Lily, and more importantly, for myself.
I'm not sure how to help Arianna, or that I even can, but I can at least try to help her glue the broken pieces back together.
At least it's a start.
Lily
Chapter 5
Friday, February 14
10:16am
“Lily!” Martin barks, pushing through the door to his photography studio.
I automatically extend both hands out over my desk: latte in one hand, today's schedule in the other.
He snatches the paper first, almost giving me a paper cut, then his latte. He glances down to read what the schedule is while he sips his drink.
Martin is an average height, average weight, average looking
man, with an above average grouchy disposition that seems permanently carved into his brows. He's either scowling, sneering, or showing his disdain for whatever you are doing. He's curt, rude, and neurotic at most hours of the day. This makes him an asshole of epic proportions, but I find as long as I get my work done and avoid talking to him, he leaves me alone.
I go back to stuffing envelopes reminding clients about getting spring portraits and the various packages he offers.
Naomi (who happens to be his assistant) got me this job a few days after my return, when the former receptionist walked out – she got sick of Martin being a dick. Despite Naomi's warning I'd snatched the job up, needing something to do besides sitting at home worrying about Jay. I'd also thought it would be fun to work with Naomi, but Martin gets pissed any time he sees us conversing. It ended up working out in my favor; Noami's been trying to set me up with one of her brother's friends who recently expressed interest in me. She doesn't understand why I keep refusing, especially since he's a great guy and I used to have a fat crush on him. The hard thing about Naomi is once she has an idea about something she doesn't let up, pestering you until you cave and do what she wants. I anticipate this being a never-ending battle until Jay returns. Oh, joy.
“Noami here yet?” Everything that comes out of Martin's mouth makes it sound like he's angry with you, even if it's asking you to hand him something as simple as a pen.
“Here,” she pops her head around from hiding behind a gigantic fresh flower arrangement she picked up for today's shoot. The couple arriving soon have booked Martin for their engagement photos. The bride thought it would be romantic to have them done on Valentine's Day.
Martin starts rattling off photography lingo I'm not familiar with while Naomi stands there nodding her head in understanding.
I don't know how she bites her tongue all day. Keeping opinions and thoughts to herself is not something she does well, but her passion and love is photography so I guess it's a sacrifice she's willing to make. She wants to run her own studio someday, and despite Martin being an arrogant asshole, he's damn good at what he does. She even leaves her leather boots and jacket at home in favor of wool pants and button-up tops, although I have a feeling the minute she's her own boss the leather will go back on. Naomi's not Naomi without her riding boots on.
Marked. Part II: Becoming Noah Baxter Page 2