Bound By Shadows (The McAllister Justice Series Book 2)
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Bound By Shadows
McAllister Justice Series
Book Two
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Reily Garrett
Thank you for reading
Bound By Shadows
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Bound By Shadows
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Bound By Shadows
Copyright © 2017 Reily Garrett
Cover Art by Rylan Killian
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to Darius, Leyna, and Raptor, the incredible trio, loyal, kind, and energetic. Three incredible beings who don’t understand the words “give up.” To Faith, whose love and compassion changed my life.
Special thanks to beta readers Graham from Fading Street Publishing, Siobhan Caughey, Lori Sickles, and Daphne Stanley. I appreciate your time and insights. To my readers, each one of you who selects and reads one of my books, thank you for the opportunity to share my work.
Books by Reily Garrett
Carnal Series
Carnal Beginnings
Carnal Innocence
Bending Fate: Prequel to Carnal Whispers
Carnal Whispers: Mind Stalker
Carnal Obsession: His Heart’s Prisoner
Immortal Lovers Series
Unholy Alliance
Kurupira Romance Series
Tiago
McAllister Justice Series
Tender Echoes (Prequel to Digital Velocity)
Digital Velocity
Bound by Shadows
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
About Reily
Tender Echoes
Digital Velocity
Carnal Beginnings
Carnal Innocence
Bending Fate:
Carnal Whispers: Mind Stalker
Carnal Obsession: His Heart’s Prisoner
Unholy Alliance
Tiago
Chapter One
Confusion and pain intertwined to delay Kaylee’s escape from the depths of a nightmare. Her subconscious’ attempt to alert her to some horror or another had been common the past two years, but this time the warning came with physical characteristics she couldn’t ignore.
The pain was an unwelcome element for which she could not account.
Cozy flannel sheets had never felt so rough under her cheek, nor had her head ached from a glass of wine. Despite the tomboy tag since adolescence, she appreciated certain creature comforts. The rough material scratching her face didn’t number among them.
A quiet foreboding swelled within that fuzzy twilight between the dream state and the hazy stages of surfing to consciousness. Sleep would be welcome if not for the musty odor and an undefined menace crowding her mind. Her brow furrowed as her pulse increased, awareness mounting with each painful throb.
Why is there dirt in my bed and what the hell is wrong with this mattress?
With each erratic contraction of her heart, the tension in her head increased, ratcheting like the shell around a drumhead until pain reverberated along every nerve. In grim anticipation, she reached to touch her temple. A crusty line of fibrous, threadlike strands crumbled in her brow line and snaked down to her ear.
Blood? What the hell?
Moving back to Portland had entailed a certain degree of compromise, yet shouldn’t include a cotton-mouth morning. This was too much. A light finger-comb revealed a large tangled knot and a painful lump over her ear.
Did I fall off the mattress and hit my head?
“Hey, kid. Wake up, damn it. Hurry.”
The harsh whisper embodied urgency and desperation that replicated and swelled within her chest.
What the fuck? The voice in her head wasn’t her own. Enlightenment would come after punching through the suffocating fog and fully emerging in the suddenly hostile world. Stabbing pain accompanied the dingy light spearing her eyes after cautiously lifting one lid.
A blur of flashbacks included sitting in an outdoor riverfront café enjoying the sunset with her favorite camera nestled in her lap. Snapping the riot of colors slipping into the ocean had equaled the day’s highpoint, nature’s way of assuring her she’d made the right decision in moving to Portland.
Now, for reasons evading memory, her gaze soft-focused on a scene defying logic.
“Kid, open your eyes before it’s too late. Grab the small rock by your head. Hide it behind you.”
Okaaay, evil mini me is crazy, and I will never drink wine again.
Five minutes of silence would help her collect her thoughts and allow time to search her virtual portfolio for whatever was causing the nausea-producing pests in her brain and stomach. Each vied for the position of top party host. Intuition whispered taking that time would be her undoing.
Instead of the distant hustle and bustle of city life swarming her senses, Kaylee found the intense quiet more disturbing than the harsh whisper. “Wait...what rock?”
Fragments of her surroundings wavered in and out of focus. Brick walls smeared with dirt were partially visible through the horizontal bars.
Horizontal bars?
She reached with shaking fingers to touch the rusted metal cylinders then tried to rattle them. They didn’t budge. A cramp in her thigh from resting in a semi-fetal position grew in intensity while her feet crowded against hard, cylindrical surfaces and prevented her from stretching out.
More bars.
She didn’t have the strength to yell.
The quick, indrawn breath was also not her own. “C’mon you stupid kid. Knock that off, or we’re both dead.”
A shower of dirt sprinkling her face and hair made her cough, the resultant sandy inhalation perpetuating the cycle.
The collaborative dream, having taken a southern turn into hell, brought another wave of anxiety along with nausea. Each of her senses plunged deeper into a dark
abyss, taking logic and rational thought through a twisted, interactive roller-coaster ride.
Disorientation, chaos, and the first stirrings of panic took root like a well-fertilized seed that sent its growing tendrils sliding deep within the earth.
Loose dirt and small rocks covered the hard base and abraded her shoulder as she moved to a cramped position on her back. The changed perspective brought enlightenment.
That’s why the bars were horizontal.
“Fuck.” Details assimilated sluggishly. Dirt-covered metal comprised a bed, but it wasn’t in her apartment. Walls of brick as seen through her cage, lack of windows, and stale, dank air, pointed to an underground zip code.
Micro currents ferried a thick, putrid scent and muffled the faint, eerie groans of venting tunnels.
“What’s your name?” Again, a whisper twisted with annoyance and despair saturated the air.
Halting breaths and extreme concentration staved off the blind terror threatening her sanity.
“Kaylee. My name is Kaylee.” Slowly, she searched for the irritating heckler.
“Listen up, Kaylee. The bastard who took you is gonna be back soon, probably looking for a bit of afternoon delight. And he won’t be asking. He kidnapped you, too. I don’t know why.”
Kaylee’s befuddled mind took in more of her surroundings, low ceiling, dirt floor, cramped, cave-like room, and the caged, bedraggled woman three feet away. Purple and black surrounded her right eye and busted lip. Her shirt front hung in tatters, the ripped flannel exposing a large bruise above her breast.
“How long have we been here?” A torch along the wall cast flickering shadows over the adjoining cage, just short of her own.
Flickering—indicates an air current.
“The last thing I remember is shopping.” Tears trailed down the petite blonde’s mud-streaked alabaster cheeks which sharply contrasted the bruises marring her face.
“There’s a slight breeze coming from—that way.” Kaylee strained to see where the tunnel led. Pitch black. Some apparitional entity scuttled in the darkness beyond the seedy illumination and left the impression of ghostly stalkers. Stalkers that chittered in the dark. I’d rather see the boogeyman than rats. “We seem to be in an underground room?”
“Yeah. I think so. I woke up just like you, but the bastard tied my hands before my head cleared.” A sob choked further words as the victim’s wide gaze flickered around the room.
A cursory exploration of the small perimeter marked the filthy, tight confines, then the small, sharp-edged rock which fit in her palm. Instinct saw her sliding it behind her. Mud covered her jeans and colored her T-shirt and jacket. Bathing was the least of her worries.
“Someone slipped us a roofie.” Bruises, tattered flannel, and bound wrists conveyed the woman’s recent past.
Kaylee’s continued scrutiny yielded no clues of how to escape her dilemma. Even if she could squeeze her hand and arm through the bars’ two-inch gaps, she didn’t have the strength or leverage to break the heavy-duty padlock securing her prison.
“Yes. Yes. But at least you’re not tied up, yet.” The girl lifted her hands to reveal a double loop, plastic cuff. “See if you can break out.”
Kaylee studied the thick, padlock and then the small rock. “Shit.” Stomach acid threatened to revolt if she moved too fast. “I don’t think—”
Low, rumbling conversation in the distance indicated a quarrel. A man complained of “damaged merchandise” while another argued something about perks of the business.
The few words discerned, argued the merits and risks of something important, judging by the intermittent expletives and plaintive appeals. A third person had entered the dispute.
A female?
Thick foreign accents hindered clarification.
“Shhh, someone’s coming. Lie down and pretend you’re still unconscious.”
The battered victim huddled back, trembling, eyes wider as she sought shelter in her prison.
Instinct guided Kaylee into fetal position with feet facing the door and her scrunched body hiding the crude weapon. Closing her eyes heightened other senses and expanded her knowledge of the impossible scenario coming to life.
Rambling steps. The soft rustle of denim.
A shuffle step skidded dirt in her face, filling her thoughts with images of a monster able to snap her neck with a flick of his wrist. Rustling sounds in the next cage testified to the other woman’s movements.
“Let me go, please. My family has money. They’re rich, and they’ll pay for my return.” A sob choked off as the beaten woman continued. “I won’t tell anyone where I’ve been or—what you’ve done.”
“Money, huh? You’re dressed no better than a junkie. Though you did smell nice.” The nasal whine and broken English was followed by a sleazy chuckle. “I doubt anyone even knows you’re missing.”
“You guys have a new girl for your entertainment. Please, let me go.” Desperate words ended in a choked mewling.
“Dunno how entertaining she’ll be. So damned skinny. I like to grab hold of some meat. At least she has nice hair and tits.”
Kaylee kept her eyes closed while listening, unable to condemn the woman after having suffered obvious atrocities. Would she have done the same if the circumstances were reversed?
“You’re worth a lot of money. Why would I chance losing it for a lie? If you were a rich bitch, you wouldn’t be dressed in rags. Stupid puss. Be quiet while I sample the new sweetmeat or I’ll stuff your mouth with my cock.”
Kaylee still couldn’t place the accent.
Dull metallic clinking marked the shifting of chain between bars before tumbling to the cell floor.
“Wakee, wakee, doll face. Time for some sexercise.” A new gruffness in his voice stoked Kaylee’s fear.
The metal door shrieked in protest before a meaty fist grabbed her right ankle and yanked. The painful grip encircling her leg spawned a tsunami-force horror to swell within her chest, then gush outward to seize every nerve ending. She’d never experienced man-handling.
Kaylee’s eyes snapped open. Evil incarnate crouched in front of the open door. Grinning. Almost drooling.
Her photographer’s eye cataloged nuances of his appearance while her scrambled thoughts tried to formulate a plan. Long, greasy hair, tied in the back. A gap between crooked, chaw-stained teeth. Sagging jowls. His thickened nose suggested a prior break.
Barbarian, I hope it was at the hands of a woman.
A low whistle hissed out in appreciation while black eyes glittered with menace, intensified by the jagged scar running from temple to chin. An artist’s stroke of malice. The bastard outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.
I’m a fly caught on sticky tape.
The abrasions earned from him dragging her through the cage paled in comparison to the bands of shock and repulsion seizing her lungs. A painful wrench scraped her into a new position—on her back.
A muffled voice grumbled from the far side where the tunnels hid their dangerous secrets, its owner still concealed in the depths of the new hell.
The split-second diversion would either save her life or delay an inevitable fate. Regardless of the garbled warning, another presence spelled trouble.
Kaylee’s explosive response took advantage of her assailant’s distraction. Terror aimed her left foot at her kidnapper’s crotch with all the strength of a desperate hostage. Regardless of the outcome, she’d go down fighting.
The dirtball toppled on his back with both hands cradling his junk amid a long groan, dry-heaves, and growls. His slight rocking motion and tightly clenched eyes gave her little satisfaction.
He deserves so much more.
With mere seconds to escape, she glanced at the caged woman. Widened eyes and dropped jaw bared a soul beseeching help. Hope was premature.
“I’m sorry.”
The thug opened his eyes. “Ahh, bitch. You’ll pay for that.” Hissed through tightly clenched teeth, the threat carried a vomit-provoking pro
mise. Curling to a sit, his bulky frame still blocked the exit while labored breathing punctuated his groans. His expression declared her already dead.
Physically, she was no match for the brute. A sloping forehead engendered hope that his mental processes equaled dull wits. Time was not on her side. Before she could crab-walk out to kick him again, his malevolent smile flagged a hatred she wouldn’t survive.
The decayed leer, like his gaze, never wavered but extended a new and foul determination. This time, he kneeled up, and his two-handed reach secured both lower legs in a matter of seconds. Vicious yanks pulled her from the cage. Pain stabbed her back as her body twisted and jerked in a bid to loosen his grip. Instinctively, her hands reached for the bars on either side. Something sharp jabbed her arm.
The rock.
Releasing the bar on one side allowed her to palm the stone. The movement gained a weapon but cost another layer of skin on her back. Nausea and the remnants of drugs threatened her effort while revulsion and encroaching blackness warred for dominance.
When her head cleared the opening, she curled her upper body in a disjointed sit-up. A new light-headedness chiseled away at hope, her head swirling in a foggy mist between consciousness and bloodcurdling fear. Unable to focus, she prayed her upward momentum and continued arc proved true, and bashed his head with the crude weapon. A sickening thud asserted her triumph, if only temporarily.
The sight of a crimson gush pouring down his temple gave her strength. His hands went lax as he slumped sideways to the ground. Blood flowed freely over his forehead while his eyelids fluttered then closed.
If she crawled closer to hit him again and he roused, she’d be dead. Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t murder an unconscious man. Killing another human had never made her to-do list. However, making sure he remained out cold for a while longer would grant her time to help the other captive.
“Quick. Get me out of here!” A frantic rattling of the cage accompanied the harsh whisper.