by Peak, Renna
I shoved some clothes into the bag and was almost thankful that Brandon had insisted on having me pack it. All of that seemed like even longer ago now—that car ride home from Sacramento after my father had threatened both our lives… I only prayed that the senator wasn’t behind this latest mess. Something inside of me told me that if he was, I would never see Brandon again.
I changed out of my bloodied clothes quickly, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt and sliding my most sensible shoes onto my feet. I pulled on a sweater and slung the bag over my shoulder before pulling the gun out of the drawer. It was lighter than I thought it would be, but just as scary. I knew I wouldn’t know what I was doing if I tried to use it, but I only hoped that if I needed to, it would buy me a few seconds to get away. I wasn’t sure who or what I was running from, only that I needed to run.
I held the thing in my hand, making sure the barrel was pointed away from me as I walked into the living room. I almost dropped it when the scream came from my lips as the front door swung open.
The large, gray-haired man smiled at me and held out his hand for the gun. “Hey, kiddo, you should probably give that to me. And you should really lock your door.”
5
Nine Months Earlier - Brandon
The sunlight streaming through the window was warm—and it only magnified the warmth I could feel almost trying to burst through my chest. I nestled my head into the pillow, still able to smell her scent on it. I knew that this was what it meant to feel content. Happy. I had felt it a few times with her before, but not like this. The past seven days had been filled with listening to her play the piano and the best sex we had ever had. I didn’t think anything could make me happier than being here with her.
Not that this little cabin in the middle of nowhere was what she deserved. I knew she wanted the house on the beach—the place that overlooked the ocean where she could look out over the waves while she played the piano. I was going to give it to her, too, but we would have to wait a little longer. We could make it through the winter here—I had stocked enough food and wood here to make it at least six months if we had to. And in six months, things would be different. The media circus would have died down enough that she could live a normal life. I knew that was what she wanted—what she longed for. She had been born into that family by pure shitty luck—the family everyone seemed to “know,” even though they didn’t know a goddamned thing about her. I would make sure she never had to deal with it again, unless it was on her terms.
The smell of eggs cooking made me smile. Jen was never going to be Holly Homemaker, but I loved her for trying. She had no idea how much I loved her for even attempting to learn how to cook—not that I expected her to. She had asked me to teach her. She made my heart melt in my fucking chest—I had never known it was possible to love someone like this. I couldn’t get enough of her, and I was so happy. It wasn’t a feeling I knew very well, but I knew I could get used to it. I knew I was getting used to it, and I didn’t want it to ever end.
I thought about getting up—taking a shower. But I just stared at the sunlight gleaming through the window, making the little bits of dust in the air dance. It was a perfect moment until I heard the crash come from the kitchen.
I tried not to laugh, but a small chuckle came out. Jen’s kitchen disasters were epic, and I had learned not to try to interfere or I risked pissing her off. She didn’t want to be rescued from her mistakes, and I respected that. If she needed my help, I knew she’d call for me. It was just further proof that she was trying—and God damn it, I loved her for that. That she wanted to do something like that for me, because Christ, I knew I wanted to be a better man for her.
I waited to hear anything else—I almost expected the smoke alarm to go off again, but it never did. I figured she’d probably dropped a pan or something. Maybe it wouldn’t be another true disaster to add to the list.
I rolled onto my back, putting my hands behind my head, and waited for her to come in with something that she would call breakfast. I would eat it and then make us something more palatable for lunch. It had to be close to lunchtime, anyway. I had taken the clocks out and made her take the battery out of her phone—I didn’t want her thinking about what time it was, but I also didn’t want anyone knowing where we were—taking the battery out disabled the fancy GPS device she also had in her phone. It was a win-win. I knew Krystal had bought her that phone—the one with the GPS service that didn’t require a cell phone signal. I knew her father wanted to keep tabs on her. Taking the battery out kept her from worrying about the time and kept everyone the hell away. Again, win-win.
I don’t think even a minute had passed since I had heard the crash had come from the other side of the cabin when the bedroom door swung open.
The voice that greeted me wasn’t Jen’s. “Get up.”
I recognized his voice, but still lifted my head to be sure. How in the hell had Ryan Agostino found me? I had been so careful—I had never mentioned this place to anyone. And the phones—I had disabled them before we even left D.C. No one should have known—I had covered my tracks well. And Montana was huge—he would have had to at least have had an idea of the area where I was to even have a prayer of finding me. He was either better than I gave him credit for or something else had happened. Someone else had happened. Daniel knew I had a place, but he didn’t know where. It seemed most likely that he had found out. He had been the one who had given me up.
“I said, out of bed.”
I looked up again to see a gun pointed in my direction. I raised my palms to him and slowly sat up, never taking my eyes off him. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. I knew why he was here—what he wanted. I knew he wouldn’t get what he wanted if I died. It was just like when he’d stabbed me—only then, he really did almost kill me.
I tried to keep my breaths calm. “What do you want?”
He motioned at me to get out of bed with the gun. “You know what I want. Get up.”
I nodded, swinging my legs to the side of the bed and standing up. I kept my palms to him as I spoke—I was completely nude, so I obviously didn’t have a weapon on me. But if I could get to the third drawer of the dresser that was only a few feet away…
“I need something for her head. She’s bleeding pretty badly.” My jaw dropped when I recognized the woman who was now standing behind Ryan in the doorway of the bedroom. I didn’t understand it at all—Melissa had been Jen’s best friend since their first year of college. And she was betraying Jen for Ryan? It made no sense.
“She’ll be fine.” Ryan motioned at me with the gun to move to the end of the bed, away from the dresser that I knew held my only hope of getting out of there. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
I nodded and moved to the end of the bed as he had ordered.
“Jesus frickin’ Christ. Holy Mary…” Melissa turned her back to me, back toward the doorway.
Ryan scowled at me. “Act like you’ve seen a fucking dick before, Liss.” He waved the gun at me again. “Where are your clothes?”
I nodded toward the dresser. “Bottom two drawers.” My gun was buried at the back of the third drawer—I hadn’t wanted Jen to find it, and there weren’t many good hiding places here. None that were within my reach if I needed it, anyway. And unless they went digging for it, they weren’t going to find it.
He motioned at Melissa with his head, pointing her toward the dresser, the gun still pointed at my chest. “Liss, get him something to wear.”
I wasn’t sure when to play the one card I knew I had—that I knew he wouldn’t kill me. I could give him what he wanted—it was going to take some time, but he could have it. Especially now—especially now that I had found the brief moment of happiness that I’d shared with Jen. Fuck, she was bleeding. Melissa had said she was bleeding, and my heart began to race again with concern for her. “What happened to her head?”
Melissa grabbed a shirt and jeans from the drawers and tossed them onto the bed next to me without turning her head back to me
et my gaze. “She hit it when she fell. I’m so sorry, Brandon. She hit her head after I gave her the shot. She was taking the eggs off the burner and she hit her head on the corner of the counter.”
“Shut up!” Ryan was waving the gun at me again. “Remember, Liss? Remember what I told you he did to Amanda?” He nodded at the clothes on the bed. “Get dressed. You made a promise to me, Brandon. You made a promise, and you haven’t delivered. And then I find out you brought that bitch here, even after we had our little talk after Amanda.”
I could only see the side of her face, but I could tell that Melissa’s eyes had begun to tear up. I could see she was torn—torn between wanting to please her boyfriend and the betrayal of her best friend. It didn’t make a bit of fucking difference to me—she could be collateral damage if it kept Jen safe. I just had to figure out a way to get her on my side before they were both killed.
I played the only card I thought might work with her. “I didn’t kill Amanda, Melissa. Ryan did.” I tipped my head, trying to make eye contact with the woman as I pulled on my jeans. “I came in after he did it. She was already dead. He had drugged Mason—”
“I said to shut up.” Ryan took a step forward, putting the barrel of the gun against my forehead. “Say another word. Say one more fucking word, Brandon, and I swear to God…”
“What?” I widened my eyes in fake shock—I knew he wasn’t going to kill me. The gun probably wasn’t even loaded—he couldn’t take that risk. If I died, what I knew would die with me. And we both knew it—my only real concern in this situation was for Jen’s safety, not my own.
“You’ll do what? Kill me? And let me take what you want to my grave?” I pulled the shirt Melissa had chosen over my head. “That would fucking suck for you, wouldn’t it? That you wouldn’t be able to get what you wanted after all this time. All the effort that you’ve gone to…”
“I’ll kill her. I’ll go out into the kitchen, and I’ll blow her brains out. And I’ll make you watch me do it.” He lowered the gun. “I told you to stay away from her. She’s a fucking toxin. You see what she’s done here?” He waved the gun back and forth in front of him between the two of us. “She’s come between two people who used to be best friends.”
My brow furrowed. “Really? Because what I see is that you came between two people who used to be best friends.”
Tears began to streak down Melissa’s cheeks. She turned to face him. “Is that true? What he said about Amanda?”
He shook his head. “Of course it isn’t true. He’d say anything to keep her alive.”
She wiped her tears away with her wrists. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her, Ryan. You promised…”
“No one gets hurt if the asshole comes willingly with us.” He looked at me. “Okay?” He turned back to her. “Okay?”
She nodded and looked at me, her eyes hopeful. “I’m so sorry, Brandon. Ryan said it would take a few minutes for the shot to work. I didn’t think she’d collapse … I would have had her sit down or something.”
I only acknowledged her words with a glare. “Can I wear shoes? And my jacket?”
Ryan waved the gun toward the closet and Melissa walked over to grab the items I had requested.
“Pull the pockets out.” Ryan motioned toward the jacket Melissa had set on the bed in front of me.
She pulled out the pockets and the small, black velvet box I had been carrying for the past week tumbled out onto the bed. She looked up at me, her eyes wide, almost sad. The sharp breath that escaped came out as a single word. “Oh.”
Ryan chuckled. “Let him keep it. He can look at it every day and remember the life he almost had with her. The life that might have made him happy.” He shook his head and waved the gun again. “Put it on. We need to get out of here before she wakes up.”
If my memory served me, the drugs Melissa had probably shot her up with lasted a hell of a lot longer than the few minutes he had been waving the gun in my face. I put on the jacket and fingered the small box. I had wanted to wait until Christmas to ask her, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to. I wanted her to wear the ring now—and forever. I wanted her to say she would be mine and that nothing was ever going to come between us again. I almost wanted to ask Ryan if I could put it on her finger before he marched me out the door, but I knew he wouldn’t allow it. But I knew I would come back for her. It wouldn’t take me long to finish this job, and I would come back. I only hoped that she would know enough to stay and not to try to run.
Ryan nodded at the bed. “Make the bed, Liss. Make it look like no one was ever here. Maybe toxic girl will think it was all in her head. That she imagined the whole thing with her and Brandon.”
Melissa walked over to the edge of the bed and began making it without a word to him. I barely knew this woman, but what I did know of her wasn’t gelling with the way she was behaving. He had to have something on her. Something else must have happened between the two of them that I wasn’t aware of for her to be behaving like this—like his slave.
It only took her a few moments to make the bed and when I looked over at it, I could hardly believe it. It was perfect. Not just perfect because you could bounce a quarter off the thing, but perfect because Jen would know I hadn’t left willingly. She would know I hadn’t done that.
She would know someone had taken me.
6
Today
She had no idea what she was doing to me, touching me like that, even just my knee. I had been hard at the thought of seeing her again—having her touch my leg … it was almost unbearable. I pulled her hand into mine. Fuck, her skin was so soft—exactly how I remembered it. My heart was hammering just having her touch me again—it was like no time had passed at all. It was like we were back in Montana for a second—like I could be happy again.
She was saying something, but I could barely hear her over the pounding of my heart—over the thought of being this close to her again. She was all I had thought about. She was in my dreams—in every single thought and thing I did. And she was right here, touching me again. I hoped to hell I wasn’t dreaming this—it had been too long. I had given up too much.
Her words finally seeped into my consciousness—she was apologizing. What the hell did she have to be sorry for? I had been the one who had fucked everything up. I had been the one who had been involved with Ryan Agostino in the first place—all those years ago when working for Krystal had seemed like the worst possible thing I could be doing and I left thinking working for someone like Ryan would better. Hell, working for my sister had been pleasant compared to some of the shit Ryan had forced me into. I thought I could work for my sister—helping out every asshole, corrupt politician in D.C. for the rest of my life if it meant I never had to do another dirty deed for Ryan Agostino. It wasn’t pretty—this life I had chosen. It wasn’t pretty at all, and I was sorry I had ever even come to be involved in it, especially since it had affected Jen.
“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. This is all on me.” How could she blame herself for any of this? Everything that had happened—every single, fucking thing—had been my fault. It had started years before she and I had even met—how could she possibly blame herself for anything?
She pulled her hand away and stood up, walking over to the tiny kitchenette on the other side of the room. “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty. I have bottled water.” She turned back to me with an awkward smile. “It’s my one vice from before—bottled water. It’s ridiculous, you know, drinking water that’s been bottled. It’s just tap water in a bottle, but it seems like it tastes better.” She turned back to the small refrigerator, pulling out two bottles of water. “I still drink water from the tap, you know, but mostly only if I make tea or something. I’ve been trying to give up coffee, but it’s hard. Coffee is just so expensive.”
Jen didn’t babble. I knew her—maybe not every single thing about her, but I knew her. And I knew goddamned well that she never babbled.
She sat down across from me on the edge of
the bed, handing me one of the bottles before opening her own. “My throat is just really dry, you know? It’s weird, because I drink a lot of water…”
“Stop.” I reached out and touched her knee. I could feel her tremble under my touch.
“I don’t have any scotch, or I’d offer you that. I know you like scotch. Or vodka. I don’t have any of that, either.”
I shook my head. “Jen, stop. I haven’t had a drink in over six months. You don’t have to do this.”
She took a long drink from the bottle, staring into my eyes. “You don’t know…”
“What don’t I know?”
She shook her head. “It was my fault. That they found you.” She reached out and touched my knee again, placing her hand in almost the same place it had been before.
My cock had been hard since before I had even come in here—and having her touch me like that threatened to make me lose it. I stood up and walked over to the nearby table that must have served as her dining area. “No. None of this was your fault, Jen. I don’t know what you were told, but this was all on me. As usual…”
“No. It was. It was my fault.” She stared down at the floor. “I did it. I didn’t believe you … remember? Remember when you told me that there was no cell service in the cabin? I didn’t believe you. The day before they took you … it was my fault. I turned my phone on to see if there was a signal. There wasn’t, but…”
“But your phone had that GPS thing built in.” I sat on one of the two chairs that surrounded her tiny dining table. I scraped my hands over my jaw, trying to make sense of what she had just told me. Fuck, it probably had been her fault. That part of it, anyway. The damned phone had probably pinged something that Ryan or his co-workers were watching and they found out where we were. Maybe not the exact spot, but it wouldn’t have been that hard to find us if they had an idea of where to look. The cabin might have been remote, but it wasn’t like it was completely off the grid. It also wasn’t as though they couldn’t have done a title search in the area—if the roles had been reversed—if I had been looking for Ryan, it was exactly what I would have done. It was smart—smarter than I usually gave him credit for. But he had apparently learned a lot from me, too—just as much as I had learned from him over the years.