“I can do this,” I say to myself, remembering what it was like to read a book whenever I wanted or go to a movie. I want that again. I want my freedom. I miss life. I have to try harder. I used to think someone would find me, that I’d be saved, and all my worries would be over, but if reality has taught me anything, it’s fairy tales don’t exist. Survival lands on my shoulders now, and if I get up, I’ll give this bastard the advantage of killing me, and I won’t allow that to happen.
No more.
I refuse to be victim anymore.
I dip my fingers in the crack of the wood and try to pull. My muscles quiver. I haven’t used them in so long, and I can hardly grip the wood. “God, come on, Jolie,” I say to myself, and my eyes water from the hopelessness and weakness I feel. “I can’t die here. He has taken too much of me.” I bring my other hand through the crack to grip the other side of the board and hold my breath, pulling as hard as I possibly can.
“Ah, come on!” I cry when the wood groans. My eyes widen, and adrenaline blooms in my chest. The boards are coming off. I reposition myself and press my feet against the wall to help with leverage. Once I do that, one side of the board comes free.
I gasp. I stare at the piece of rotten wood in my hand in disbelief. I did it. I actually did it. The board snapped in half and the end is jagged, so the hole isn’t as big as I need it to be. I grab the other side when I hear a door shut, and the vibrations shake the ground. I look over my shoulder and stare at the door with wide eyes when I hear a pounding of footsteps.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I struggle with the next board. I realize it isn’t going to budge, so I move on to the next one and start to pull. The wood groans, and the slam of his heavy feet against the floor has me panicking. If he sees I’m trying to escape, he will kill me.
Splinters spread into my hand, and my fingers sting.
“No, come on, come on.” Tears drip from my eyes from the fear caving in. I’m going to get caught. The door slams open, hitting the wall, and dust flies into the air. The board in my hand gives and rips away, creating a hole big enough for me to slide through.
His deep voice booms behind me. “And where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you.” His laugh is sardonic, leaving my skin in goose bumps.
My body is half outside, and the cool air has my skinny body shivering. The man’s hand grips my ankle and yanks me inside the room again, throwing me against the cot. My head hits the wall, and he chuckles again. “I was wondering when the fight in you would return. I’ve missed it. I thought I would have to kill you tonight and move on to my next target, but I see I was wrong.” He unbuttons his pants, and I see his erection straining to get out. “You’re mine, girl.” He backhands me across the face, busting my lip wide open, and with his other hand, he grabs my breast. “Forgot how good you feel. I bet you’re hungry.” He flicks his thumb over my nipple. “I know I am.”
My eyes fall between his legs, and one of the boards is lying on the floor. If I can get to that and figure out a way to protect myself with it, I might have a chance. “Get your hands off me,” I whisper weakly with no venom, but I lift my leg and shove my foot in his groin as hard as I can. His hand releases my hair, and he stumbles back, cupping his cock in pain.
It’s the second I need.
I dip to the left and run around him, grabbing the plank at the last second as he turns around. His hands go for my throat, and I lift the board through the air and smash it across his head. He loses his footing again while holding the new wound on his head. A bit of blood trickles down his temple, and I’m not sure what comes over me, but I swing it again.
And again.
Next, I swing so hard that when the board hits his face, it snaps in half. He falls like a giant tree, and I want to yell timber as he crashes against the flimsy cot, breaking it with his fat body. He groans, holding a hand to his broken nose. “You fucking bitch,” he slurs.
“Fuck. You.” I lift the board again and drive it into his thigh, hearing the flesh tear open even over his screams.
Yeah, how does it feel to constantly be in pain, you twisted, sick bastard?
I don’t waste another second. I bolt, squeezing myself out of the hole in the wall and jump down. The fall is about five feet, and my ankle twists in the wrong direction as I land. I hiss, but I’ve endured worse. I limp as fast as I can and get the hell out of there. I have no idea where I’m going, but anywhere is better than the hellhole I’ve been in for the last year or so. What if it has been longer?
I don’t know. I can’t think too hard on that. If I do, I’ll get lost in why I haven’t tried to save myself sooner. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I’m free, and if I don’t hurry, he might find me.
The sun is setting, the night is getting cool, and I hear the sound of a stream. I stumble across broken tree branches and leaves as I trudge deeper into the forest. The dirt is wet and cold beneath my toes as they seep into the soil. The warmth of the sun is gone, replaced by the canopy of the Pines and Redwood trees. They are so tall; I can’t even see the sky.
“When I find you, I’m going to kill you!” my captor roars from the distance, and the anger in his voice has me quickening my steps.
My hands lay on the tree trunks for support. I walk through plants and brush that I don’t know the names of and hope they’re not poisonous. What is the rule about poison ivy and oak again? I can’t remember. I wipe my cheek when a tear falls, and I step over a log. Looking around, I try not to get overwhelmed by the darkness closing in. The trees look like people, and I’m startled every time I see one out of the corner of my eye.
“It’s just you. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.” My stomach cramps with hunger, and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth from thirst. I’m going to die here, and some animal is going to feast on my body.
Better feed a wild wolf or mountain lion or something than be in the hands of a real monster.
My feet ache. I’m not sure how long I’ve been walking, but I can hear my teeth clattering together. I lean against a tree and decide to take a small break. I’ll be fine.
I’ve come this far. I can’t give up now.
Three
Owen
The deer is roasting over the fire, at last, and I’m filthy from head to toe. I’ve rubbed dirt all over my body, and I’ve been hunkered down on the ground for a day, waiting for the perfect doe or buck to walk through. After shooting the doe, I skinned it, and now I’m covered in blood.
I’m usually always covered in blood when I go back to the Cliff House, but I’m staying out here a few days. Being around people when I’m depressed only makes me feel worse because I can’t muster up the energy to give a shit about anyone around me or what they have to say.
The woods, getting lost, it’s exactly what I need right now.
I grab the stick and turn the deer carcass over the fire and stand, my knees popping as I do. My lower back twinges, and I groan, twisting and stretching until it pops. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” I am old. Older than everyone at the Cliff House.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing at the Cliff House anymore. I don’t belong there. I belong here, away from people and living out my days in solitude. Live alone. Die alone.
Promise me you’ll love again.
It’s her promise that keeps me with Jaxon and the rest of the crew. That’s it. I’ve surrounded myself with people I care about, that counts. Promises have loopholes when you figure out the person asking for it isn’t specific.
While I keep that in the forefront of my mind, I know it isn’t right. In my heart, I know exactly what Annabeth meant when she made me promise. The thought of someone else next to me, in my bed, having my kids, kissing her, making love to her, it doesn’t feel right. Annabeth was that once in a lifetime kind of love for me. I wasn’t a good man when I met her. I was stealing cars and hustling drugs on the streets when I ran into her.
&
nbsp; She found me.
She wanted Adderall. Out of all the hard drugs I carried, she wanted something I didn’t have on me because that shit was for beginners. She came to me every day after that. Hair done up, tight jeans, shapely blouse, and she’d turn heads. She came to the wrong side of town for me, and eventually she asked me out.
Me. The man who was discharged from the military two years early because I was a POW and was fucked in the head after becoming a civilian again. I couldn’t really get a job, so selling drugs was quick, easy, and damn good cash.
This college trust-fund girl wanting something to do with me blew my mind, and when I asked why she said, “Something about you makes me believe.”
“In what?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet, but when I do, you’ll be the first I tell.”
The rest was history.
She never told me what she believed in, but she didn’t have to. Her love was enough. Fucking hell, I can’t wait for these two days to be over. I’m tired of my chest burning and feeling like a broken down little crybaby bitch. Hunting was supposed to make me feel better, but all I want to do is curl up in my bed like a brokenhearted teenage girl.
Jesus, listen to me, I’m too far gone.
Not even the woods can help me.
I turn the deer over again, so it cooks evenly and head down toward the river to clean up. I shuck off my shirt and toss it on my shoulder, letting the cool spring day wrap around my sweaty body. I inhale the musk of the dirt, the moisture in the air, and the smoke wafting from the deer.
When a familiar large oak tree comes to view, the branches dancing and intertwine around another, I hang right. Moss has grown steadily over the ash-colored bark, and the tree looks like it has aged ten years since the last time I was here. It’s beautiful. I squat beside a fake bush and search for the button.
The problem is the button is one of the damn leaves, and there are a hundred leaves on this thing. I don’t know what Jaxon was thinking putting something this goddamn fancy out here for me. A lock and key would have sufficed. I hear a click and sigh in relief. I grab the plastic bush by its spine and lift. Dirt and leaves fall off the square door, and a motion light comes on showing me shelves of food, plain clothes like sweatpants, jeans, shirts, and hoodies. There are blankets and even a cot.
If I want, I can sleep down here, but what’s the point of being in the woods if you’re comfortable? There isn’t a point.
But I might take that blanket… Blankets are nice.
I grab a bar of soap and a towel, knowing it’s more than most when people go camping, but Jaxon installed this tiny bunker for me, and I need to use it. I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t. Yeah, a really bad friend.
I make my way out and climb the steps toward the real world again, closing the bunker behind me by putting the bush in its place. I give the oak tree an appreciative tap and head North toward the river. It’s only a few yards away.
The water is rippling from the flow of the current, and the sound is peaceful, relaxing, and the sun is covered by a veil of gray clouds. It’s the perfect day. I undress, leaving my dirty clothes on the shore. I take a whiff of the bar of soap in my hand and smell pine. I’m waist deep in the river, shivering from how cold it is, and dip my head under.
I give myself a quick scrub, getting the blood, sweat, and grime off me before swimming back to shore and grabbing my dirty clothes to hand wash them. They won’t be perfect, but it’s better than nothing. I dip them underwater, wringing them out before scrubbing them with the soap.
A large hawk flies above me, cawing, wings spread wide and casting a shadow along the surface of the river. I follow the large bird, watching it dip and swirl, diving through the air before twirling higher in the sky. The hawk disappears in the woods on the other side of the river. I drag my eyes down the shoreline when I see something prone laying on the ground. I can’t tell what it is, but it’s bigger than most animals in these woods.
“What do we have here?” I ask myself as I walk through the water. A fish swims by my ankle, and the slick scales rub against my skin causing me to jump. “Shit, I hate it when you fuckers do that.” There’s nothing worse than something that I can't see touching me. The water gives as I trudge through it, and the riverbed becomes shallower, allowing me to get a better look at what’s laying on the ground. My toes dip into the wet sand, and it reminds me of thick silk sliding between my toes.
I still can’t get a good look. It’s probably nothing.
Lifting my leg up, I step onto dry sand that coats my foot as I climb up the embankment. “Son of a bitch, this better be—” My thoughts come to an abrupt halt when I see what’s laying there. Not what, who. I climb up the shelved wall and squat next to her. “Jesus Christ, what happened to you, girl?” I say, horrified at what I’m seeing. She has scars all over her body, new cuts, bruises, and fucking hell, she’s skin and bone. I can see the rivets of her spine.
Immediately, I flip her over and check for a pulse. I exhale when I find one. “Oh, that’s a relief.” I really didn’t feel like burying a body today. I’m glad she’s alive too, there’s that. I’m not a complete asshole. “What happened to you?” I push her hair out of her face to get a better look at her, and I gasp, swallowing the surprise in my throat when I see how beautiful she is.
Who the hell would want to hurt her? That’s what I want to know.
“I got you. You’re safe now, okay? You’re safe.” I lift her into my arms as gently as I can. I’m afraid any sort of pressure is going to break a bone or leave another bruise. I do my best not to look at her body and keep my eyes straight ahead. She deserves privacy because it hasn't been given to her from the looks of it.
I climb down the riverbank and into the cold water. I expect her to wake up from the freezing temperature, but she doesn’t move. She’s filthy too, like she hasn’t bathed in weeks. I can’t scrub her down because then I’d be touching her, and I’m not about to touch anyone without their permission.
So I do the only thing I can, I dip her hair in the water and get all of the twigs and leaves out of it. The water turns murky as the dirt leaves her scalp. I stare at her face, waiting for her eyes to open, and I’m astounded by her. She has the kind of beauty I haven’t seen in a very long time. She has a heart-shaped face and thick lips that are pale and chapped, but I bet when she’s healthy, they are tempting. Her jawline is smooth, angular, and her nose is small, reminding me of a button.
“What happened to you, huh? What’s a girl like you doing out here, naked? I know you aren’t camping like I am. I’m nude for a different reason.” Great. I’m talking to someone who is unconscious and can’t hear me. “Well, that’s as good as your hair is getting, girl,” I say and carry her to the other side of the river. “You need to wake up. I have food, and you need it.” The first thing I do is dry her off and then cover her in the clothes I picked out for myself. Black t-shirt and gray sweatpants.
I don’t have anything for her hair. Don’t women do something to it when it’s wet? Whatever, I’m not a fucking hairstylist. Jesus, what am I thinking? “Alright. I’ll get you settled, and then I’ll get some clothes on.” The last thing I need is to scare her because of my dick swinging in the air. I lay her down on the blanket next to the fire and pull her hair away so it’s a safe distance from the flames.
“Get some rest and don’t fucking die, okay? One woman dying in my life is enough; I don’t need the guilt of another, got it? Good. Now, I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” I pause mid-step and wince. “You know what I mean.”
I need my head examined for talking to this girl. I go back to the bunker and slide on a pair of sweatpants and yank a shirt over my head. For the hell of it, I grab a tent Jaxon insisted on me having. I like to sleep on the ground or on a bed of sticks. I’m a simple man, but she might not be a simple girl. I grab a few more blankets and head out, closing the door to the bunker.
I’ll never tell Jaxon this, but I’m warming up to it. I might even pul
l the cot out for her. After I eat. “Shit! The deer!” I can’t believe I almost forgot about it. I hope it isn’t burnt. I turn it again and slap my knee in joy when it’s cooked perfectly. “Fuck yeah, man of the motherfucking woods, right here. You’re lucky I found you, you know,” I tell her, pulling the deer off the flames before it overcooks. “I’m the damn Betty Crocker in these lands.” I frown at the references I give myself, lean down and whisper in her ear, “If you could forget I ever said that, that would be great.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, and sigh, berating myself for once again talking to a woman who can’t understand me.
It’s been so long since I’ve talked to a lady who isn’t Quinn, Gabriella, and Finley. Other than that, I keep to myself. Would this girl even want me talking to her? Am I saying the right things? I haven’t said anything hurtful or insulting, so I’m in the clear.
I’ll get this girl fed, call the cops, and she can go back to where she came from. That’ll be my Good Samaritan act for the year.
Cracking my neck to the side and groaning with relief, I set the deer on another bed of sticks to let it rest and get a skillet out, cut up some onions and mushrooms and make a quick gravy. It smells delicious.
As the gravy thickens, I stand up from the log and walk over to the girl. I flip her to her back and stare at her frozen, sleep-induced face. What’s her story? Where did she come from? Why is she here? What happened to her? “I bet you’re tired of fighting, aren’t you?” I ask her, wondering how someone could hurt someone like this. “Looks like you fought like hell to get here, and I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but you’re safe. I promise you. I know it doesn’t mean much, but my promises are gold.” I think to the promise I made to Annabeth and regret the words that just came out of my mouth. “Well, all of them except one, but that’s no one’s business but mine,” I state, sucking my tongue across my teeth.
I have a real bone to pick with people who hurt others for the hell of it. I never got my hands on the motherfucker who killed my family, and I probably never will, no matter what Jaxon promised. My enemy has been underground ever since my wife died. When I confessed to killing her, which I didn’t, the company I worked for let me go. I tried to investigate all of the deaths that were linked to the company while I was in prison, but there were thousands. So many that the company had to eventually go bankrupt in order to pay off all of the lawsuits.
Cruel Intoxication: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 4) Page 3