by Tl Mayhew
“Do you know where he is now?”
“I contacted the local authorities in Savannah, as well as the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, and they have eyes on him. He was still at his office when I talked to them last. They were waiting on a warrant.” He clears his throat before adding, “That was an hour ago.”
“Fuck!” I clench my jaw tight, grinding my teeth.
Chapter 22
Tracy
In the small kitchen of Lacy’s apartment, I grab a glass and pour some water, then make my way over to the couch while I wait for her to change. I told her to just be herself and wear what feels comfortable, but after several minutes, my knee begins to bounce, and I start to wonder what’s taking her so long. Something seems off. I stand and move toward her room, but my step falters, and I freeze.
Lacy is being directed to the living room by Dr. Ackerman. His hand is on her mouth and there’s a gun pushing into her side. When he shoves her toward me, she loses her balance and falls on the glass coffee table. It shatters, leaving her lying on the floor in a pile of glass.
My glass of water falls from my hand as I rush toward her and bend down. “I’m so sorry, Lacy. Can you move?” Her eyes are full of fear, but she nods. “Okay. Let’s get you to the couch.” I hold her upper arms and help her take a step back. Her hands and legs are cut up from the glass and her wince has me cringing when she lowers herself to the couch.
“Oh…yes…that’s good. Have a seat, Tracy,” he says, waving the gun in my direction, and I lower myself next to Lacy.
The person before me is not the person I dated for several months. Dr. Ackerman…Logan, had been a perfect gentleman—at first. He’d taken me out to dinner, opened doors for me, and had even taken me shopping for clothing. Although, most of the outfits he’d selected were a little too racy for my tastes. But he’d insist on buying them and I’d give in, but I’d only wear them when I knew we were going somewhere where there was the least chance of me running into someone I knew.
It wasn’t until one night when we’d had a little too much to drink that things started to change. We were trying something new, being adventurous, and he’d tied me to the bed. When the doorbell rang, he mentioned his secretary was coming over to bring him some papers, yet to my surprise she’d followed him back to our room.
My stomach turns at the thought of how inebriated I was and what I had done.
I hadn’t remembered everything that had happened, but he made sure to tell me every disgusting detail the next day. After that night, he was constantly pressuring me to have her involved, but I continually said no. When I caught them together—I ended it.
Logan starts to pace, his eyes wide and hair a mess from running his hands through it. “Lacy, you have your sister to thank for this meeting. My original plan was to see you a few times, fuck with your mind, then prescribe you something that would make you forget the conversation you overheard between Mack and me. But then I thought, what if my efforts are all for naught? Then I would have wasted a bunch of time when I could just figure out a way to take you both out at once.” He grabs a kitchen chair, drags it closer to us, then straddles it and rests his arms against the back. “You probably have some questions about why you’re here. The good news is I have all the fucking answers.”
He clears his throat, then stands, and starts to pace again. “It all started in Colorado. My arrangement with your father was simple. I was the supplier, and he was the dealer. But when he got greedy and started doing deals on the side, I considered our arrangement null and void and ratted him out to the authorities. We all know how that ended. The fucking police had no idea I was involved.”
I turn to Lacy, my mouth agape and eyes wide. Her expression mirrors mine.
He throws his arms up dramatically. “Pay attention. It gets better. When Tracy took a job at Magnolia Woods, I was elated. It gave me an idea for the perfect cover. Moving my practice to Savannah and taking a resident psychiatrist position at the same facility would be an ideal way to keep an eye on the three of you. Then, when we began fucking…” His eyes move to me, and I close mine as my shoulders drop, “it was the cherry on fucking top.”
Lacy gasps, and covers her mouth. Her hand still drips red from the glass imbedded in her skin.
“By the look on your sister’s face, Tracy, I would say she didn’t know about us. Go on, tell her?” With each move of his hand as he speaks, he swings the gun around the room.
I lower my gaze to the floor as tears well in my eyes. “Lacy, I’m so sorry. I had no idea—about any of this.”
“Come on, you can do fucking better than that. Tell her how great we are together. How you can’t get what I give you from anyone else. How rough you like it. How nothing gets you wetter than being tied to a bed while I mark the silky white skin of yours with my hand before fucking you from behind.”
Sobs rip from my throat as I shake my head. “STOP! PLEASE JUST STOP!” I scream, tears rolling down my cheeks. My heart constricts at the thought of what I’ve done to my sister. I can’t breathe.
“Oh, no. We haven’t had the chance to tell Lacy the best part.”
“Please—don’t!” I cry out. “I’m begging you,” I say, gasping for breath, willing my lungs to work, but my plea falls on deaf ears.
“The part where you used a fucking blow job in exchange for me to have your mother transferred to Magnolia Woods. Unfortunately, what happened to her once she was there was truly accidental.”
I bend over as sobs continue to suck the very breath from my lungs.
Lacy’s hand hasn’t moved from her mouth, but her face is now wet from the stream of tears flowing down her cheeks.
He rushes over, and we both scream. My scalp is on fire as he grabs a handful of hair and leans in, his face only inches from mine. His breath smells of whiskey as he spits out, “Had this been under any other circumstances, I think we could have worked. You need someone like me—someone to push your boundaries and take control. Unfortunately, after tonight, that need will no longer be a necessity.” When he pulls my head back farther, he presses the gun to my temple and his hand begins to shake as though he’s experiencing some internal debate.
The pounding in my ears drowns out any sound, and I close my eyes, waiting for the impact. He gives my hair one last yank, then releases, and I bounce off the cushions, into my sister.
He gets up and moves toward the door where he bends to grab a briefcase, then drops it on the table and flips the latches. “As easy as it would be to end this with just two bullets, that’s too quick and very messy. I would rather savor the moment.” He plucks a syringe out of the case, holds it up, and flicks it a couple times, then glances in our direction. “Who wants to go first?”
Chapter 23
Clayton
Still in New York, I text Martin when I walk through the door of my home.
Me: Anything yet?
I get an immediate reply.
Martin: Savannah P.D. has the warrant.
Martin: Ackerman wasn’t in his office.
My heart sinks, and my phone dings again.
Martin: Local police are tracking his Bently.
I drag my shirt over my head and strip down to my boxers, then text Lacy before I jump in the shower. It’s the only thing that brings me any sort of peace. Not being there for her makes my stomach churn.
Me: Where are you?
Me: Call me back ASAP.
Once I step out of the shower, I check my phone, but find no new messages. I quickly run a towel over my body, throw on jeans and a t-shirt, then make a call to Deloris.
She doesn’t wait for me to speak. “I’ll make arrangements for a plane to take you back to Savannah.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The clock turned three a.m. an hour ago. As I head to the airport, exhaustion tugs at my senses, and I roll down the window to try and stay awake. The cool, crisp New York air gives me the last bit of energy I need, however, I’m still not fully able to comprehend how I’m
in the position of yet another rescue. It seems inconceivable that I would be involved in something of this magnitude in less than twenty-four hours. If it weren’t for the connection I feel toward Lacy, our encounter would have been a case of “wrong place, wrong time,” but everything about her feels right. Once she’s safe in New York, in my bed, only then will I be able to relax. For now, I’m running solely on adrenaline or lack thereof.
Chapter 24
Lacy
My chest tightens as the confession of what my sister has done repeats in my mind. Breathing is almost impossible, and I want to speak up, tell him just to put me out of my misery…out of this pain of betrayal. He can kill me first if it will make everything go away—my mom, my sister, Clayton…
The vibration in my pocket reminds me I still have my phone. It pulls me back to my senses. Realizing there’s still a chance we could get help gives me the motivation I need to stay alive. If I can just get to it without him seeing me, I could text someone for help. My hands are painful to move, and my fingertips are slippery from the blood, but I manage to free the phone from my pocket and push it between us.
When I glance in his direction, I find Dr. Ackerman filling another syringe and placing the items on my small table
Although my phone is partially covered by my leg, I can make out a text from Clayton. More tears drip from my eyes. I bump Tracy’s leg; getting her attention, then direct her eyes to my phone.
She takes in a quick breath and we both look to Dr. Ackerman to see if he heard her, but he’s still fiddling with syringes.
I mouth to her, “Watch him.” She nods, then keeps her eyes on him while I text Clayton using one finger at a time.
Me: at apt help
Tracy moves her leg closer to me, covering the other half of the phone. When I look up, the doctor is coming toward us, syringe in hand.
“I think watching the life leave your body is the ideal punishment for Tracy, don’t you?” he sneers, his gaze locking with mine.
Tracy jumps up, screaming, “NO! LEAVE HER ALONE!”
He shoves her back down and points the gun at her in warning. “Don’t try that again or I won’t hesitate!” When his fingers grasp my arm and he pulls me to a stand, I yelp, then sway as the warm red liquid trickles down the back of my legs. Just as I regain my balance his phone rings and I’m pushed back to the couch, where my phone vibrates again.
While the doctor is pacing around the room, I move my thigh, so I can read the screen.
Clayton: Hold on, baby. I’m coming for you.
My chest expands at those seven words. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he does want me. I don’t get a chance to text back as the doctor turns in our direction.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you there in a couple hours. I’m just tying up some loose ends,” the doctor says as he ends the call. When he sets his phone down, he strides toward me and grabs my arm again. “Now…where were we?”
Chapter 25
Clayton
My vehicle slides to a stop as I pull onto the tarmac at the private hangar. I sprint to the plane, taking the stairs two at a time while yelling, “Go…go…go!” The sound of engines firing up is music to my ears as I enter the cabin and the attendant closes the door.
It’s lucky these private hangars have their own runways, so we don’t have to wait long. We do, however, have to wait for a clearing in the sky.
“Sir, the pilot has the go ahead to take off. Please sit down and put your seat belt on.”
I do as I’m told, but only because they won’t take off if I don’t. I really want to be up in the cockpit demanding we get there as quick as possible.
Once we’re at cruising altitude, I’m asked if I want something to drink. I could really use a scotch on the rocks, but decide on water, knowing full well I won’t be able to stomach anything else.
The attendant sets the water in front of me, and says, “The pilot has indicated we have a good tailwind. We’ll be landing thirty minutes earlier than scheduled, sir.” She then bends down, closer to my ear, and adds, “The Demetris are thankful for what you’ve done. The pilot has been instructed to do whatever it takes to get you there as quickly as possible.”
I nod, my chest tightening at the thought of their gratitude. I avoid her sympathetic gaze, and get my emotions back in check, by turning toward the window and stare into the blackness.
About forty-five minutes into the flight, my patience starts to wane, so I text Martin.
Me: Any word yet?
His reply is almost immediate.
Martin: Still trying to get the SPD to the apartment.
Me: Damn it, Martin! Can’t you get anyone down there?
Martin: CO is a lot farther from GA than NY. I’m trying.
I text Lacy again.
Me: I’m not far.
I hope my texting is not putting her at risk, but I don’t know what else to do. I release my seat belt, then move around the cabin, hating the lack of control I have in this situation. I need to get to Lacy.
Chapter 26
Lacy
The doctor gathers my wrists together and I scream out from the pain in my hands.
He leans in close, squeezing my hands tighter. “You’re a screamer too. I’d like to drag you in the bedroom and find out just how loud I can make you scream…” His hot breath bathes the side of my neck as his erection presses against my backside.
I fight the urge to gag, my stomach churning, not wanting to show weakness.
“Unfortunately for me, I don’t have time. For now, I’m just going to keep you quiet. We don’t need someone hearing you and interrupting our fun.”
When he reaches for the hem of my shirt, I rear back. “No…please!”
He stops and laughs. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m very close to dropping you to your knees and giving you something worth begging for.”
I clamp my mouth shut, refusing to say another word, but I can’t prevent the wince from escaping my lips when he drops my hands after zip-tying them and all the blood comes rushing back.
He rips a large piece of my shirt off, twists the material, shoves the middle in my mouth, then ties the ends around my head. “That’ll keep you quiet,” he says.
My scream is muffled as I fall back to the couch and pain shoots through my hands.
His gaze moves to Tracy. “I suggest you stay quiet or you’ll get the same.”
When he turns his back, I glance in the direction of the window. There’s a quick flash of blue on a small patch of the wall and my chest expands with hope. There…there it is again, both blue and red lights flash on the material of the curtains, but I don’t turn away quick enough.
The doctor looks at me, then at the window, his voice raises an octave. “What the fuck?” He grabs the curtain and pulls it back just enough to peek through the window when his phone rings. Without looking at it, he answers, “Yeah?” He then jabs the phone several times trying to end the call. Only a few moments pass before it rings again. “I don’t want to talk to any negotiator.” The time between the next call is shorter. “I told you….” He only gets a few words out before he throws the phone against the wall and pieces of plastic shoot through the air. “If they think they’re coming in here, they better think again.”
He paces from the window to the table, the glint from a gun flashing rhythmically as it swings back and forth with each step.
Chapter 27
Clayton
My seat belt is off when the tires of the plane touch the ground, and my phone dings as soon as I take it out of airplane mode.
Martin: Cops have the place surrounded.
I text him back
Me: Be there in 15.
Martin: Me too.
I furrow my brow, confused by his last text, but ignore it as the attendant drops the plane door. I’m down the steps and sprinting to the car before the steps have a chance to touch the ground.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I’m about to put the vehicle in drive when the hai
r on my neck raises. Someone’s watching me. I turn my head and meet Martin’s gaze.
His smile is weak as he says, “I figured you’d want to drive.”
The vehicle we’re in is an unmarked, modified Dodge Charger and puts out about six-hundred horses—in other words, it’s fucking fast. The drive that usually takes thirty minutes will take us fifteen in this car. And the fact that Martin is with me on this makes me appreciate him so much more. I turn my gaze straight ahead, then hit the gas. The tires squeal and we fishtail before I straighten it out. “Good call.”
He raises his voice above the roar of the powerful engine and his question is more out of curiosity than gathering information. “So…there’s a girl involved?”
I nod, while concentrating on weaving in and out of traffic.
“I figured as much. She must be special,” he says with a tinge of what may be jealousy in his tone.
“You have no idea.” My response comes as I slow at a red light, but don’t stop. The red and blue, both in the front and rear of the car, flash at the speed of a strobe light, warning other vehicles of our urgency.
“You must have forgotten who you’re talking to. I think I have an idea.”
His comments fade in the mix of sirens and more red and blue strobe lights. Any further discussions will have to wait as we slide to a stop within inches of a marked police cruiser. I jump out, running straight to the building, blowing past several uniformed officers who try to grab me.