by P. Jameson
Or where was she kept? Because he was going to raze it to the ground. Burn it down and let her watch so she knew she’d never have to go back there.
Or what was done to her… because he needed to undo it all. Somehow.
He ran a shaking hand through his hair. What the fuck was happening to him? The need to care for this stranger was nearly overwhelming. It made his center burn to the point of being uncomfortable. Like whatever was inside him now was forcing him to action.
Do something. Make her better, and she will make you better. She can heal you where you’re broken. It’s her. The one.
Ratchet frowned. He couldn’t be healed. He was shattered. No one would ever be able to find all the shards much less put them all back in their place.
You’ll see. One thing at a time.
What could he do for her right now?
Tearing out the hearts of her enemies would have to come later, when he’d collected more intel.
Ratchet stared at the closed door, thinking.
She needed food. His female needed food. He’d hunt some down.
This got his feet moving toward the lounge. There was always food around when a party was happening. And when he got there, he wasn’t disappointed. Past the people humping in dark corners and some shamelessly on the couches, he found tonight’s buffet spread out over the counter. It wasn’t even picked over yet. The empty beer and liquor bottles littering the floor told him most of the cats had skipped dinner and gone straight for the numbing agents.
Ratchet skipped the stack of paper plates, and dug around in the cabinet for a tray instead. He found a banged up cookie sheet. It would do.
Moving down the counter, he picked out the best looking sandwich. It looked like turkey probably, and the lettuce was nice and green. He grabbed several slices of pizza for Marlee to choose from, not knowing which kind his female would like. He passed on the chips. They looked stale. Fucking Fang had probably left the bag open again.
Ratchet stepped back, looking the food over. None of this shit was healthy. It wouldn’t be good for her, but at least it would fill her empty stomach.
Again, the vice around his heart tightened at the thought of some asshole withholding food from her. Making her fear even water.
He found the chocolate cake off to the side. It looked like the kind his mom made. There was still three pieces left. Which told him the guys were worse off tonight than usual.
Ratchet slid all three pieces onto the tray and several chocolate chip cookies before digging in the fridge for something other than beer for Marlee to drink. He stared at the half-empty carton of milk wondering how many of the guys had swigged right from the jug. Nasty bastards.
Tucked away in the back there was an unopened bottle of orange juice. Perfect.
Turning to leave, he caught Skittles eyeing him from across the room. The cat was leaned against the wall, one leg drawn up to look casual, sipping from a bottle of Corona. He looked suspicious as all hell, and Ratchet was going to have to pass him on the way back into the hall.
He straightened his shoulders, setting his jaw as he went to stroll by like nothing at all was wrong. But Skittles stopped him with a whistle. Not an eerie one like their leader used right before he was about to fuck someone up. But a low, confused one.
“Lotta food you got there.” Skittles’ tone was quiet. He wasn’t aiming to draw attention, but even if he was, the others were probably too far gone to notice. Or care. “Ain’t seen you eat like that in a while.”
Ratchet shrugged. “What do you care?”
Skittles narrowed his eyes, pushing off from the wall. “I don’t. Just odd. Your ass has been skipping dinner for weeks.”
“Guess it caught up with me.”
“Yeah. Because that looks like enough food for two.”
A snarl curled Ratchet’s lips, warning his brother to back off. “Real hungry.”
“Sure. Okay.”
Pushing past Skittles, he started down the hall.
“It’s just earlier we heard someone in the storage shed. But when we checked it out, no one was there. Only this.”
Ratchet turned slowly, making sure his expression was neutral. Skittles pulled a worn photo from his back pocket and held it up. It must be Marlee’s. She could have dropped it when Ratchet pulled her from the shed.
Shit.
His gut took a dive to the floor.
He reached for the thing, roughly pulling it from Skittles’ grip, and stared closely at the images. Four unsmiling females in a dim room. Each with the same messy haircut and grim expression as Marlee. Different eyes and skin color, but the same hopelessness.
Four dolls. The fifth was in his room.
“Know anything about it?”
Ratchet pressed his lips together, shaking his head and passing the picture back to Skittles. “Nope.”
“Fang said he saw you go in there earlier.”
“Fang was drunk by noon. He probably saw little piggies dancing out in the lot too. Can’t really depend on nothing he sees.”
Skittles nodded, stuffing the photo back into his pocket.
“Try an alarm. Or hell, locking the door,” Ratchet called over his shoulder as he forced himself to go slow down the hall. “Only way to keep things out of the damn shed is to lock it.”
“Brilliant,” Skittles deadpanned. “Fucking genius.”
Ratchet flipped his middle finger high in the air and kept walking.
At his room, he eased the door open and slipped inside with the tray of food. There was a fleeting moment of despair when he noticed his bed was empty and neither his mother nor Marlee were anywhere to be seen. But then he heard their quiet voices coming from the small bathroom tucked at the back of the space and the air returned to his lungs.
With a frustrated sigh, he set the food on the dresser.
Why was his female out of bed? She should be resting.
The bathroom door was ajar and through it, he could see his mother helping a naked Marlee into the shower.
He froze, staring at her body. It was bruised and dirty, and she moved awkwardly. Like it wasn’t her own. Or hadn’t been for a long time. But her delicate shoulders, the curve of her spine, the soft sway of her waist… it called to him.
And felt wrong to look at.
Not wrong. Mine.
And besides, he looked at whatever he wanted. Women were meant to be looked at.
So why did he feel like king dick looking at her in this vulnerable moment?
Suddenly, Marlee’s eyes shot across the bathroom as if she’d sensed him watching. She gasped, looking somehow betrayed, and he jerked his gaze away, pulling the door shut until it clicked.
Shit.
He listened for the water to change, the sound of the glass door sliding shut. And when he knew Marlee was safe inside, he resumed the pacing he’d done in the hallway, his small room only allowing him four good strides.
Whatever. He could pace all night if he needed. It was better than the miserable sleepless nights he’d grown used to.
Better than wanting an end to everything and wishing he’d been born to a different clan.
Yeah, the quarreling in his chest was confusing… but it was something. And until he got things straight, he wasn’t checking out of life.
Chapter Six
The warm water burned as it poured from the spout over Marlee’s skin. There were cuts and scrapes, but mostly it was just that her skin hurt. Her actual skin, bruised or not.
She’d been in the dark too long. And never enough nutrients because food costed money and put her more in debt to her captor.
Debts she was forced to work off.
Other girls had become accustomed to working for their food even though none of them had chosen to be there. Seemed like if you were going to kidnap a person, at least there should be some free food involved. Unless you were aiming to starve them to death. But her captor wanted them all alive. The answer: charge them for the food they ate, the clothes they wore
, the toiletries they required.
Add it to the debt they were there to pay off in the first place. Add it to the mountain of unpaid bets or unpaid drug deals or unpaid… whatever.
For Marlee, none of that debt was hers. It belonged to her deadbeat father who couldn’t stay away from the casinos. It had taken a year for her to understand why she was in the basement with the others in the first place.
The others.
She wondered if they were paying for her escape. She’d promised Seven… er, Nyla… she would give their picture to the authorities when she got far away from Memphis. But now it looked like that was going to take a lot longer than she’d ever anticipated. She hoped the girls didn’t think she’d abandoned them like so many others had when they were freed.
Carefully, she forced more of her achy body under the warm spray, letting her skin get used to the harsh feeling. Since she refused to willingly “pay” her father’s debt with her body and had no other skills to offer like the others, she wasn’t allowed to shower like them. She’d bathed with water from the sink as best she could.
Her captor had made a bad bet of his own thinking Marlee’s dad would care enough about her to pay the asshole the thousands he owed. She wondered where he was right now. David Benson. The sorry asshole who’d missed every one of her birthdays. Her graduation. And now ten more years of her life because she’d been locked away “serving time” for him.
She knew he wasn’t alive. He’d died from a knife wound after spending the night in the county jail for drunk and disorderly. Her captor had told her that. Showed her the newspaper article.
But she wondered where he’d been buried. She’d like to visit the grave and spit on it.
And if she could have a wish, it would be to know what he’d be doing right now, if he was alive.
Would he even wonder if she was still alive? If she’d survived. Would it ever cross his mind at all? Would he be sorry for stealing from a powerful man?
But honestly, did she even want to know the answers to those questions?
No. She didn’t. Couldn’t stomach it yet. Not until she was truly free and the others were too.
Her mom though… she wanted to know what had come of her mom.
Despair wracked her at the thought of the only person who ever gave a shit about her. What she must have gone through when Marlee went missing…
She’d seen her once on the news on the little TV in the basement. Crying and begging for Marlee’s release. Even mentioned her captor’s name. Called him out, right there on live television.
Marlee thought that was the end. That she would be found and rescued.
But nothing swayed him.
Money.
Money would have swayed him.
Grabbing the bar of green soap from the tile shelf, she lathered up the best she could, ignoring Leah as she stood with her back to the shower to give Marlee the most privacy she’d had in ten years.
Using the shower wall for support, she cleaned all the things that had been abandoned for so long and used the fresh razor Leah had found for her. She tried to ignore the tremors and focus on not cutting herself. But they were getting worse it seemed.
Drugs.
She never wanted so much as a damn aspirin ever again. She wanted clean of it all.
The memories. The truth. The pain.
Come on Marlee. Get clean in here, then sleep off the shakes.
She could do it. As long as Leah was right about Ratchet. If she could trust him to let her be. And she wasn’t sure she could after catching him watching from the doorway.
When she’d scrubbed and shaved as good as she could, she reached for the shampoo. It was in an amber colored bottle and looked expensive. Ratchet had long hair, but he didn’t seem like the type who went for the pricey stuff.
That thing about books and their covers. Maybe he wasn’t what she’d concocted in her mind for him to be.
Then again… maybe he was. And maybe she wasn’t going to just believe everything Leah said about her son.
Age-old despair settled in her gut over her situation.
One day she wished to feel something else. Something good.
She’d forgotten what feeling good felt like.
Lathering up her hair, she breathed in the spicy scent to distract herself from the burning sensation on her scalp. She’d gotten her hair caught on one of the beds before she left and had to pull it loose while hacking at it with a dull plastic knife. It had pulled more than it cut.
Pushing off from the wall, she rinsed her hair clean. Her legs shook from the effort to keep herself upright, and when she was done, she pawed at the handle to turn the faucet off.
Looking up, she found Leah through the open shower door, holding a large white towel. She stepped into it and the older lady helped her over to the stool before her legs gave out.
“I’ll try to clean up your clothes, and bring you some of mine for in the meantime. But right now, you sit there and rest. I’m going to grab some of Thomas’s.”
Marlee watched as Leah slipped past the bathroom door. Murmuring could be heard, and then she was back, carrying a stack of clothes.
“Here you go.”
She set them on the counter and turned her back once more, allowing Marlee privacy.
Patting at her tender skin, she dried off the best she could, taking her time. Better slow than to end up face planting on the bathroom floor.
When she was mostly dry, she reached for the pile Leah had brought. A black t-shirt the size of Alaska was on top. The fabric was buttery soft and for several breaths, she just rubbed the pads of her fingers across it. Tears wet her eyes, and she didn’t know why. It was a t-shirt. But it was the softest thing she’d touched in a long time.
Clearing her throat, she eased it over her head. It was like sinking into a cloud. She reached for the gray sweat pants, shakily pushing her legs into them. Not as soft, but so much better than the rough jeans she’d inherited from one of the girls. She shuddered, remembering the years she’d had nothing to cover her legs. Anything was better than that… but these, were a step above the jeans.
Leah turned around just as she was maneuvering them up her waist.
“Okay, hun. I bet that feels better, yeah? Now let’s get you back into bed.”
Marlee froze. “His bed?”
Leah pressed her lips together nodding.
Marlee shook her head. She could sleep on the floor. Being in Ratchet’s bed was too dangerous. She wouldn’t sleep with him in return for these clothes. No.
Soft things meant nothing if they led to brutality.
“I told you, he won’t hurt you,” Leah reminded her, and this time she sounded a little more confident. “Come on.”
Leah propped her body under Marlee’s shoulder and guided her to the door. As they shuffled along, she became more nervous. Being captive in this new place meant plenty of uncertainties. And it also meant she was completely alone. Without her girls to keep her company. To remind her she was human.
They pushed through into the room that was dimmer than the bathroom, and she steeled herself for anything…
And she didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. Ratchet, shirtless in his bed waiting for her like she’d been purchased maybe, yeah. But him standing next to the dresser, looking nervously at a tray full of food? She hadn’t expected that.
He seemed to be inspecting the items when he noticed she was there. Looking up at her, his expression went oddly soft. It stole her breath. Scared her more than his icy gaze had when she woke. Just for a second before it snapped back to its typical snarl.
There, yeah. That, she could handle.
“Brought you food.” His gruff voice was low and he pulled back his shoulders, looking proud.
But it took several breaths for his words to register.
“For me?”
Why would he?
He stepped back, jamming his hands in his back pockets and stared at the food instead of her.
“You can have it all,” he declared. “And if you want more, I can bring you more. It’s just right down the hall in the lounge.”
Still leaning on Leah, Marlee examined the tray. There was so much. More than she’d seen in a year probably. The scent of tomatoes and garlic filled the room. And she spotted chocolate cake.
Her stomach rumbled in response. So long since she’d eaten anything like this. Just looking at the food gave her strength. She wanted to run to it, shove it down her throat as fast as she could. The desire was so strong a small whimper escaped.
She cleared her throat to cover it.
“H-how much?”
Ratchet frowned, and she clarified.
“What will it cost me?”
His confused gaze went to his mother, his mouth opening and closing with no answer.
“It’s a gift,” Leah answered for him. “He won’t take anything from you for eating it.”
Ratchet’s scowl deepened until he seemed furious. His anger should have scared Marlee. Angry people were hard to read. Would he blow up? Hit her? Do worse? But something about his reaction seemed… comforting.
How strange.
“It’s yours,” he snapped, flinging his arm in an arc over the dresser. “I want you to eat.”
Marlee frowned. He was just giving her all this food. Why would he do that?
“Bed first,” Leah interjected, leading Marlee over to it.
She pulled back the covers and eased herself down. The bed was soft, the sheets cool, and the thick down comforter so cozy she could cry. She’d been too scared when she woke to notice. Now it was like sinking into a piece of heaven.
If only she wasn’t trapped here. Then maybe she could enjoy it.
“All right,” Leah said, tossing Marlee a look full of warning. It said be good, and sent a chill down her spine. “I’ll leave you to eat.”
Marlee shook her head, but Leah ignored her. No. She couldn’t leave her alone with the strangely angry man.
But the woman turned to Ratchet—who suddenly seemed bewildered—and murmured, “Call me if you need anything.”