by A. J. Summer
Runner
Tainted Hearts #1
AJ Summer
Copyright © 2014 AJ Summer
Kindle Edition
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please don’t participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material in violation of the author’s rights. All the characters and storylines are the property of the author, and your support and respect is appreciated.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Edited by: Lindsay Hopper https://www.facebook.com/EditingByLindsay
Cover Design: Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover designs http://www.covertocoverdesigns.com/
Cover photograph: ©bigstockphotos
DEDICATION
For everyone who loved Kyle as much as I do. I hope Runner melts your fluffy socks off!
To YOU—It’s getting easier.
* * *
It’s amazing how a few letters can capture the soul and enrapture the mind. –DS
WARNING FROM THE AUTHOR
This book has a feisty redhead who is not afraid to use her shoes or her dirty mouth to get her point across. Some of her favorite words are:
Fuck!
Screw!
Bang!
Spurt!
And she tells it exactly how it is.
Runner and Talon’s story is not a fairy tale. It’s a battle of wills.
And this is only the beginning.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Warning from the Author
Prologue
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven
Run
Dear Reader
Coming Soon
Acknowledgements
Connect with the Author
PROLOGUE
SIX YEARS EARLIER
*
KYLE
The impact of my body hitting the water knocks the air right out of my lungs. The force of the jump sends me straight down into the water and face first into a massive rock. My mind spins, and I clamp my lips closed tighter. I’m never doing that jump again! Tinges of red taint the water around me. I hope there aren’t any sharks around. My heartbeat drums steadily in my ears as I try to stay as deep down as possible in the dark water flowing into the cave. I can’t let anyone see me if I’m to disappear like I need to.
After a few minutes my lungs start cramping, and my face throbs on the side where it just got intimate with the rock. I kick faster, propelling myself deeper into the darkness. I try to keep one hand stretched out so I don’t knock my head against any more underground obstacles. That will surely send my fraying consciousness down the deep end, and me to a watery grave.
When I can’t see any more rays of light spearing through the water I kick myself to the surface, desperate for a breath. I break through the water, heaving and sputtering for air. And immediately touch the sore spot on my face. My fingers come away with a thin, watery smidge of blood on them.
A hand grips my shoulder, scaring the crap out of me. But I’m exhausted from my swim. When I try to find a foothold to pull myself onto shore or away from whoever grabbed me, my foot slips and I’m pulled like a helpless bag of overripe potatoes onto the rocky edge of the cave floor. I lie there gaping like a dumb goldfish out of water, each musty breath a welcome relief. The only thought in mind is that if my plan didn’t work Mia and Mom will pay the price. I can’t fail!
“Kyle, come the fuck on!” Mike whispers loudly, while pulling me into an upright position. The cave is dark inside, and the small flashlight Mike is holding really doesn’t help much. I stumble as he pulls me forward, and that’s when I realize in a cold panic that one of my sneakers is missing. If I lost it in the cave, people will easily assume I came this way. No body, no proof that I’m dead, right? I don’t want people to look for me. Let them think I washed out to sea and the sharks ate me. Let them make their own conclusions.
“Mike, hold up. I lost my shoe,” I say, still slightly breathless. I hunch over to catch my breath for a second.
“You came out the water that way. Just leave it. It could be at the bottom of the waterfall for all we know. We have to go now! You just drowned remember. Nobody can see you,” Mike snaps, like I don’t know what the hell is going on.
I shake his hand off my shoulder and manage a stumble-run ahead towards the green Chevy that I can see parked at the entrance of the cave. The sun is still bright out, and for a moment I close my eyes. It’s only a shoe, Kyle, forget about it. But it’s not just the damn sneaker I’m leaving behind. It’s everything I once was.
run/ren/
Verb
Move at a speed faster than a walk, never having both feet on the ground at the same time.
run•ner/'rener/
Noun
A person who smuggles specified goods into or out of a country or area.
run•ning/'reniNG/
Noun
Because if you don’t, I will find you, and you will wish you’d done it a little faster, a little better, because there’s nowhere on earth I won’t find you…
CHOICES
You make the right choice, you win.
You make the wrong choice, you lose.
You let someone else choose for you, because there really isn’t any other way to do it, and they own you.
I’ve worked for Reno Parker for six years.
And shit just got bad.
I’m going to the place I thought I’d never see again.
I’m going home.
Do I want this new responsibility? No.
Do I need it? Yes.
Will someone else choose for me? Never again.
And to finally crash this impending train wreck, there’s a girl messing with my head.
Are you ready for another seven days?
DAY ONE
*
RUNNER
Four white walls, two tiny windows, one overweight middle-aged man, and me. And in the shadows lurk two dangerous predators, circling and foaming at the mouth, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Dramatic, right? Yeah, I’m just taking a break from this tiresome conversation.
“What do you mean, you don’t have the money?” I ask the quivering idiot sitting in front of me. Nobody borrows money from Reno and thinks he will just forget about it. Lucky for Veo, he decided to show up without us having to go look for him. So very lucky.
“I’ll get it, Runner. My luck is just down on the tables right now. I’ll win it back,” Veo explains most convincingly. He is shaking like a strung-out crack whore, and he reeks of week-old vodka. Mike snorts from the other side of the room where he is watching Jonah play with his silver switch blade. The predators. Jonah is butterflying the shiny little weapon in-between his fingers. I must admit, my Mohawk-sporting friend looks like he means Veo serious bodily harm. Badass to the bone. A lot of it is only for show. Nobody likes hurting people unnecessarily. Nobody sane, at least.
“And when do you suppose Lady Luck will return to your shoulder, Veo? Mr. Parker isn’t a patient man,” I ask. I’m making sure that Veo sees me watching Jonah. It’s all about the intimidation. Anytime now Jonah is going to walk over here and press that razor-sharp knife point to poor Veo’s overgrown gut. He won’t really stab him. Like I said, we are all still sane here. And dead men can’t pay their debt.
Jonah walks over right on cue, the silver blade glittering in the overhead lights of our office. Veo’s leg s
tarts a steady thump on the wooden floor. “Shh-Shh,” Jonah soothes him like he is a small child. Veo starts to stutter, and little drops of spittle form on the sides of his lips. His fat face turns red as he starts breathing in short little spurts. Screw that, Jonah’s comforting won’t work for me either.
Jonah slowly trails the thin knife tip over Veo’s stomach and stops right over where he assumes his belly button to be. The poor bastard whimpers, “Please, Runner, one more day. One…” Veo stops his pathetic pleading when Jonah lets out a low hiss. I must give it to Jonah; he plays his part really well. Sometimes I think he enjoys this just a little too much. Reno can’t ask for better employees; more ruthless perhaps, but not more thorough. We get the job done. The money paid.
“One more day, Veo. Or I’m going to have some art lessons on your fat ass,” Jonah hisses without lifting his head. Jonah turns around and goes back to his corner on the far side of the room. He spins the blade round and round, not looking at Veo anymore. Mike walks over and cuts Veo’s wrists free, and the fat little man jumps up, his short legs a blur as he scurries from the room. The only evidence left to prove Veo was ever here is the stench of old alcohol. I hate the smell of alcohol. It reminds me of him. I take a few deep breaths through my mouth and relax my clenching stomach.
Why am I still thinking of that old piece of shit? I took care of that a long time ago. I made sure the inmates at Mount Max gave him the royal treatment during his stay. It’s a pity my shit excuse for stepdad could only hit woman and young boys. Otherwise, he might’ve survived long enough to get out. And then we could’ve had some real fun. Instead he decided to hang himself with his bed sheet. Pussy. I shake my head and drop my chin to my chest on a loud sigh. Why do I have to go there?
Mike closes the door that Veo left swinging open when he ran through it. Jonah turns on his video game and starts playing some kind of MMA tournament thing. It’s like the interrogation with Veo never happened. It’s just another day for us, nothing new.
I run my hands through my hair. I’ve got one hellava headache coming on. These days they seem to come more frequently. I rub the muscles at the back of my neck, and the pressure almost makes me black out. Damn tension. I’m not sure what I’m tense about, but who am I to argue with the good doctor. What he says goes; he saved our asses enough times in the past for me to accept that.
“Do you think he’s coming back?” Mike asks.
“Does he have a choice?” I reply.
“How many times have we done this? Ten, Twenty, a hundred times? They always come back. With or without the money. Limping and cussing. Or out of pure fear. Or in a body bag. They always come back. We make sure of that,” I say. The body bag always being the very last resort. Reno Parker doesn’t demand blood as payment. Or at least not often. Sometimes exceptions are made.
I’m so tired of these stupid people. I wish they would just realize that borrowing money to get out of your gambling debt will not solve the problem. For fuck’s sake, Reno owns the casino where they lost the money in the first place! Reno owns the loan house where they borrow the money when they need to pay it back. With interest, of course. We have to make our cut.
Sometimes I wish we were still doing small-time drug deals. Doing a few drops here and there. Collecting bags full of cash. Easy, until someone starts shooting at you, or steals your bag. I still don’t know what happened to that bag. The bag that signed my death warrant. But even then, it was a lot less tiring than this new money-lending shit. Mike slouches down onto the couch next to Jonah.
“All debts are paid. In cash, in favor, in blood. I paid with my life, didn’t I?” I say, wrapping up my Reno-always-gets-paid speech. “I’m going to bed.” I just depressed myself by the change in subject. I don’t like being reminded how I ended up here. Don’t get me wrong, I like my new family. Mike and Jonah are the brothers I never had. Reno takes care of us like his own sons. It’s the fact that I can never go back that kicks my ass.
I look at the guys and then to the direction of my room. My room wins. I’ll leave them to play their game. “Sure dude. Goodnight!” Mike shouts down the passage after me. Jonah grumbles something that I can’t hear.
I think Jonah and Mary are having some problems. Or, more specifically, I think Jonah is the problem. A long-distance relationship will do that to you. Jonah makes the two-hour drive into Bailey to see Mary almost every night. He still won’t move her here. After the mess with Danny Migelli he tried to push her away, but she’s one tough chick for a Sunday school teacher. She keeps telling him that she doesn’t care about his lifestyle. But Jonah is still not convinced it’s safe to be around him. He reasons he can protect her just as much from the Square, as if she was right here and not two hours away in Bailey. If it isn’t safe now, here in Maria’s Square, a town that we literally run on our own, when will it be? So Mary stays back in Bailey and waits for his nightly visits like a good little girlfriend. I don’t think any other woman would put up with that level of bullshit.
Bailey. A place I try not to think of it too often. My heart gives a little squeeze every time I do. I open the third door on the right, the one that leads to my room away from home. When I say “home” I mean my new home, a cabin that Reno bought for us when it was decided we would run the casino and loan house for him in Maria’s Square. Not Bailey, the town where I grew up, the town where my past lives.
Nights like tonight, when we have to wait for the cash to come in, it’s better to just stay here than go all the way up to the cabin. I’m glad I got called to the loan house tonight. Lately, the noise of the casino gets to me. Most nights I leave there with a headache, as if it’s this ominous sign that something bad is about to happen. And I don’t even believe in all that suspicious heebie-jeebie stuff.
I lie down on the bed and toe my sneakers off. I get my phone out of my jean pocket and go online. I do this every night before I go to sleep. I feel like a damn stalker. But I open the app anyway and type in Jenna’s name. I’ve seen her pictures a million times. I know she’s still back in Bailey, sharing a house with Mia. I know every damn photo on her profile by heart, but I still can’t stand to look at the ones with the guy in them. He is always holding her. Smiling at her like some stupid-boner-for-teacher asshole. Okay, maybe I just hate that it isn’t me, but that shit still hurts. It could have been me holding her. But I did this for them. I disappeared for them. I jumped off that cliff for them. So they could be happy, safe.
I click to the new photo she posted a few hours ago. It’s a photo of Mia and Jase. Jase is not the kind of guy I would’ve picked for my sister. What is up with all those tattoos? And has the guy never heard of a haircut before? Or he should at least find a new hairdresser. That shit is always in his eyes. I click to the next photo. Another one of Mia and Jase. I go to Mia’s profile to see if there’s any news on the boyfriend in question. The guy has been missing in action for almost two months now.
Mia’s last post was yesterday, and it only says how much she misses him, so I suppose he is still gone. I could find out where the guy ran off to, but what’s the use? What use would that information be to me? Maybe he went away for work. I don’t really care. As long as he isn’t cheating on my sister.
I close the app and stare at the dark ceiling. If this headache will just go away I might actually get some sleep. But instead of the numb bliss of rest, I’m plagued by visions of Jenna and Mia shacked up in the same house as their boyfriends. No, not boyfriend. Husband. My mind fumbles around the word. Filthy, disgusting word. I can’t believe Jenna is married. She is Mrs. Jenna Reese now.
Fuck! I press my thumb and forefinger in my eyes in an attempt to erase the memory from my brain. It leaves me bleary-eyed and clutching my head. I need to get some headache tablets. Heck, I’ll even try electro-therapy if it’ll cure me of this constant throbbing. Just yank my skull open and stick those little suckers right in there. I chuckle at the image of me lying on a bed with my brain exposed and being zapped by little jumper cables connecte
d to a car battery. I bet Jonah would love to do it for me.
“Runner!” Jonah calls from the door while knocking three times. “Yeah?” I reply, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I stuff my sock-covered feet back into my sneakers and walk over to open the door. Jonah’s got a big-ass smile on his face. Glad to see he is feeling better. “Veo came back and he’s got the cash. Mike is checking it now,” he says, still smiling and tilting his head in the direction of the office. I run my hands through my hair and breathe a sigh of relief. Veo’s got a family, and he’d be a fool to put them in danger. I’m glad he came through. I walk behind Jonah toward the office. “It’s all here. Ten grand,” Mike says when we enter the room.
“Which casino did you clear out, Veo? Or who do you owe money to now?”
“Nobody, Runner. I won that money fair and square at the Apple,” he says, pointing to the bag filled with cash.
The Apple is an up-scale bar with a dirty blackjack operation in their back wings. It’s run by one of the local guys. Antonio LaVaas. We are not friendly. They must have had big leagues playing over there tonight for Veo to win that amount of cash. Antonio is not going to be happy when he finds out Veo was cleaning out his tables by counting cards. But that’s not my problem. I wanted to kill Veo when I found out that night after night he cleaned out the blackjack tables at the Indigo by counting cards. Veo is welcome to play any of the machines at the Indigo, but if I catch him on my tables, he is losing his ability to spawn again. But Veo paid his debt, and all that it took was a little encouragement from Jonah and his knife. Business is business, and ours is done.
“Good, go home, Veo, and for fuck’s sake, don’t make any more debt. This house won’t help you again. And our agreement stands. You can play my machines, but if I get you counting or coaching on my tables, I’ll have your balls,” I say, pointing towards the front door. Hopefully now he’ll be a man and take care of his family and stop gambling his kids’ future away.