Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2)

by Larsen, K.

  Bentley stumbles back into the cabin some time later. I’m still in my spot on the floor outside her bedroom door. He grunts at me but doesn't say anything as he passes me to the kitchen area. He reaches in the freezer and pulls out a bag of frozen corn, and presses it gingerly to his face as he leans against the counter.

  “How could you?” I grouse at him. He shakes his head, keeping his nose tilted up in the air to keep the corn resting just right.

  “It wasn't intentional. You didn't see her, dammit. It was bad. I couldn't keep her safe from a distance because she had no friends. No interaction with anyone. She isolated herself completely. She almost killed herself drinking those first few months. It was fucking bad, man. You were lucky you didn't have to watch her disintegrate day by day. That girl you lived with, the happy, studious, college student who gave a shit about everything and anything disappeared. I got to know the new woman. The changed woman. And I couldn’t keep away. It just happened. I was there for her...not replacing you, just there for the new her. It wasn’t intentional, it just happened slowly over time. I am so sorry, man,” he finishes.

  The worst part of his whole rant is that I get it. I wasn’t innocent. I tried to screw Magnolia out of my heart but I always woke up loving her. He fell for the part of her I don’t understand or know, and maybe she fell for him out of that same part of herself. This morning I thought I was the only man she’d ever been with, only to find out in one day that I’m just the first of three. It breaks my heart. Worse is knowing she was just starting to try and move on to love someone else. It’s like no matter what, I fuck up her life. The crushing feeling deep in my chest is worse than living under the pretense that she tried to kill me on purpose. This hurt is different. I don't know whether to hold onto her, to fight for her, or to let her go so she can find a shred of happiness, uncomplicated happiness, in her life.

  “I shot Ezra,” I reply, moving our conversation to an easier topic.

  “Damn...” he groans.

  “He was going to kill her, Bent. He raped her. The sick fuck told me he did it. My own uncle. She never told me. That night, the entire situation was so far off from what I thought it was. She wasn’t trying to kill me, she was trying to kill him.” I watch as Bentley’s face registers surprise, then understanding.

  “It makes sense now...” he mumbles.

  “There’s more. He was going on about the pack, the one she took. When she said she spent the money, that it was gone, he didn’t seem to care. The backpack was mine. I almost always had it with me, but he seems fixated on it. Something’s up.”

  “Did you kill him?” he asks, shifting the bag of corn over his left eye.

  “It was a slug to the chest, close range, but we both know you can survive that. I’m not sure. I cut Mags loose and ran. I didn’t wait around to find out if he had a pulse.” I watch as Bentley drags a hand down the good side of his face and grunts in frustration.

  “It all happened so fast,” I finish.

  “Forget about it. You did the right thing, we just need to figure out next steps. I need to make some calls.” He strides by me and exits the cabin, pulling his phone from his pocket.

  I push up from the floor and relocate to the couch. My hand is swollen and bloody but I’ll deal with it later. I push the heels of my hands into my eyes but it does nothing but hurt the bruising from my black eyes. When Bentley comes back in he looks like I feel, defeated and tired. My mind races with thoughts of him touching my girl, being with her. Jealous anger wells up inside me but I try my best to tamp it down. There are other things to deal with now – I may still need to protect us. I stand, stretch, and let Bentley know that I’m going to grab our stuff from the car. I shoulder our bags, flip the glove box open and tuck the pistol into the waistband of my pants. My cell light blinks, indicating a text message. I grab it, slam the car door shut and stagger, exhausted, back into the cabin. I set Magnolia’s bag just outside her bedroom door and toss my bag on the couch after setting the pistol and my phone on the coffee table.

  “What’s that?” Bentley points to my phone.

  “A phone?” I volley back, irritated. I pick it up, flip it open and read the text message.

  Betrayal is not tolerated.

  “You brought that with you?” he squawks at me. “Jesus H. Christ, he’ll be tracking you!” Bentley booms. I slam the phone on the floor next to my foot, smashing it into tiny fragments.

  “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight!” I snap at him. He drops to the couch beside me and lays his head back.

  “We need to move. It won’t be safe here after tomorrow. There’s another location a few hours from here. You and I will need to travel separately from her. I have someone coming who will be able to transport her safely. It’s late. We’ll be up early, go get some sleep,” he grunts as he strides to the empty bedroom next to Magnolia's. I slam my fist into the coffee table. Pain splinters through my knuckles but it does nothing to distract my heart from the real pain I’m feeling.

  She hasn’t uttered a single word to either of us. Our morning has been silent outside of Bentley and me pleading with her to talk to us. The silent treatment from her could bring any man to his knees, but what’s worse is she's not ignoring us really. We informed her we’re moving her to a more secure location and that she needs to pack up and be ready to go, and she nodded her acknowledgement. At breakfast she smiled at me when I handed her a bowl of cereal. When Bentley asked her questions she gestured her answers. Mute Magnolia was a sad version of the girl I love. She only existed, it seemed now, to show us how badly we’d messed her up.

  I sling her bag over my shoulder and usher her outside where she suddenly squeals with joy and shimmies out of my hold. Running full bore across the drive she leaps into a large black pair of arms. His arms close tight around her. It infuriates me. Who the hell is this guy? She doesn’t belong to him. She’s mine. I’ve had enough of all the men in her life. My jaw is tight and my pulse pounds in my head. I have to clench it even more, knowing how good it would feel to punch his face. He releases her, kisses the top of her head and smiles down at her lovingly. In that moment I lose it. I can’t control my rage any longer. All the frustration of the last week start a fire inside me. Moving quickly and silently, I walk right up to Mags and the linebacker. My fist meets his jaw three times before he hits the ground. I can hear Mags screaming at me. She sounds hysterical. Little fists beat at my back while she screams but I’m too wrapped up in the moment to stop. Four. Five. His hands drop from the protective position in front of his face and his head lolls to the side limply. Chump never even hit back.

  “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” she screams in my ear. It’s the most she’s spoken to me since last night. Pushing me to the side, she snakes her body between us and tenderly attends to her friend's face. It kills me to know that she won’t talk to me. That she found out about all this the way she did. I feel the overwhelming urge to hold her close and profess my love for her. Everything feels so tense.

  "Brock? Are you alright?" she asks him worriedly. He doesn't really respond, he just groans. Her head snaps up and the glare she shoots me should cut me in half.

  "Cane Jonathan Ash, get the fuck out of my sight. NOW!" she screams. She's adorable when she's angry. All piss and vinegar. I smirk at her before shaking my head no. There is no way I'm leaving her side right now.

  "I can't stand to look at you," she hisses. The disdain she feels is evident in more than her words. "He's a friend. I only have two, you know, and you've managed to hurt both of them in under twenty-four hours. He's a good guy." Her voice breaks as she finishes. Heat creeps up my body seeing her like this. I've hurt her, again, and I don't like the way she's looking at me. Hell, I don’t like the way she’s looked at me for the last twenty-four hours. If she would just let me explain. Bentley was my contact with the ATF. My way out. My exit plan from Ezra. I was betraying my family for her and me to have a real future.

  PART III

  Chapter 21

&nbs
p; “I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.”- J.K. Rowling

  Magnolia

  One. Two. Three. Breathe. Four. Five. Six. I suck in four more breaths and release them while trying to maintain a shred of composure. How idiotic was I to sleep with Cane the first time we see each other after everything that’s happened? Do I have no self-worth or control to say no and to attempt having some form of normal boundaries?

  His hair is longer now, curled down around his neck and usually tucked behind his ears. It looks good. Better than before, really. He wears it well with his warm colored skin and caramel eyes. I wish he could understand. If I get rid of Ezra then he's free. I owe it to him. I need to give him the life that was taken from him. He doesn’t understand it. He still doesn’t understand my need for revenge. It’s as if the world slipped away when he appeared last week and no one else, no other circumstances existed anymore. I wanted to overlook the fact that Cane lied to me, that Bentley lied to me. But in the wake of the last twenty-four hours I don’t know who to trust.

  Bentley knew that Cane was alive the whole time. How could he not tell me? How could he lie, saying I was his in to the Ash family when he’d be working with Cane? The betrayal and lies cut deep right now. Cane’s actions have left doubts in my mind that I can’t swallow and the betrayal cuts too deep. How could he not have ever told me that he was working with the ATF to get out? To get us away and free? All those years and he never said anything. The two of them have managed to tear my heart to pieces. Jimmy and Dave didn't even bother looking at me. How does someone do that knowing they're sending someone they know to die? The world is nothing but a cruel place full of deceit and pain.

  I couldn’t find it in myself to sit and talk or listen to either one of them last night. If I’m honest, I’m still fuming at the betrayal. I glance down at Brock and use my shirt to wipe away the blood at his mouth.

  “What the hell, girl? I didn’t know I had to ask permission to say hello.” He glares at Cane over my shoulder.

  “Ignore him,” I snap. “And Bentley too for that matter.”

  “Sounds like the boys are in trouble. I don’t envy y'all at all.” Brock laughs at the two of them.

  “I thought your ‘guy for safe transport’ was also ATF,” Cane snarls at Bentley.

  “Nope. But coulda been. He’s top notch security,” Bentley smiles.

  “Hey, Mags,” Brock starts, “that one’s the fan who left you the hundred dollar tip.” He points at Cane. A shiver runs down my back thinking back to that night. He was watching, waiting and planning. My heart and brain war with each other. I shouldn’t trust him. I shouldn’t love him, but I do. Every last nerve in my body screams out for Cane. Everything is so complicated and confused right now. It’s been eating me alive.

  “Figures,” I mumble while standing up and brushing the dirt from my knees. The air is sticky and thick today, much like my mood. I help Brock to his feet as best I can and shoot laser beams at the boys.

  “I need a phone,” I bark, holding out my hand.

  “Uh, what for?” Bentley asks calmly.

  “None of your business,” I quip.

  “Mags, you gotta know people are looking for us. Using phones is not smart right now,” Bentley says. My temper is flaring, surely a combination of being overly tired and pissed as hell at him.

  “Well you gotta know that Aster White showing up in Beebe is not smart right now, and if I know my cousin she’s probably halfway to Arkansas already.”

  “Why the hell would Aster be going to Arkansas?” Cane interjects, looking worried.

  “Because it’s been eight days since we last talked. If I don't contact her twice a week she flips out!” I say, waving my hand in the air dismissively.

  “Why?” he pushes.

  “Because she almost drank herself dead,” Brock offers, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes at me. I huff and scrunch up my face at him.

  “What the hell is going on?” Cane asks. “How were you even in touch with Aster all this time?”

  “Does it really matter?!” I squawk at him. “Someone just give me a damned phone.” Brock's hand shoots out, handing me his phone, which I snatch from him before stomping off from the group for a tiny bit of privacy. I dial her number and wait. Five rings in and I’m about to give up but finally she picks up.

  “Aster?”

  “GOD DAMMIT YOU STUPID ASSHOLE I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!” she shrieks into the phone. I pull it away from my ear and grin.

  “God, I miss you,” I chuckle.

  “No! I am so pissed and in the middle of nowhere on my way to hunt you down, you don't get to be funny right now!” she hisses at me.

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “Arkansas. According to my GPS I’m an hour from my destination.”

  “I’m not there,” I tell her.

  “What?!”

  “Aster, I need you to stop freaking out and listen quickly, I don’t have much time.” She huffs audibly into the receiver but stays silent. “I’m with the ATF. They are moving me to a secure location until they can locate Ezra. Cane is alive.”

  “Wha-” she starts but I cut her off. “Just shut up. There is a spare key to the trailer around back under the tarp in the wheel well of the bike. Go inside, lock yourself in and don’t open the door for anyone. It’s safe in there, but, shit, stop for groceries, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to eat.” I finish. Silence. “Aster?”

  “Alive?” she whispers, shocked.

  “Yes,” I release on a breath.

  “Are you safe?”

  “Yes,” I tell her.

  “Are you lying?” she asks.

  “No. Please. Get to the trailer and wait. I don’t know when I’ll get to call again but I will make sure someone comes for you.”

  “One of these days you are going to tell me the whole truth. Do you understand?” she relents.

  “I promise. And A?”

  “Yeah?” she answers.

  “I love you.”

  “Shut up, you whore.” The line goes dead and I can’t help the smile that takes over my face. Now I just need to figure out how to get the hell away from my three overbearing bodyguards. There’s work to be done and time will only be on my side for so long. I turn back to the boys and shout, “So where are we going?”

  *****

  Just before cramming into the car with Brock, Cane had pulled me tightly to him and just held me. I’d stayed stiff and silent. No words passed between us but I knew what he was saying to me. I could feel the love rolling off of him. For the last hour of the car ride I’ve been kicking myself for at the very least, squeezing him back. Despite all my mixed feelings, love still wins out. I know deep down that I love him, but I’m still mad as hell at all the betrayal and lies.

  We’ve been driving for two hours already and poor Brock looks like he wants to throw himself out of the car. “Whatsamatta?” I ask playfully. I am so grateful that I am riding alone with him. It seems that he’s one of the only people worth trusting these days, although I’ve been wrong before. But more than that, I’ve missed him. I missed Penny and Bentley too, but it seems making connections creates more and more heartache for me. Will I ever see Penny again? I have no idea what’s happening with this whole ATF safe house and no one feels like filling me in.

  “Anyone ever told you how much you suck at singing?” he says, throwing a finger in his ear and shaking his eardrum clear. A deep laugh bubbles out of me.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Should we play a game instead?”

  “Damn, woman, can’t you just sit quietly and enjoy the views for a while?” he chides.

  “Not really,” I admit. “I’ve been silent for so long.” I sigh.

  “Fine, whatever, we’ll play a game.” He grins and pokes my side with his meaty finger.

  “Okay, I spyyyyy, a liar,” I quip. He glances at me from the corner of his eye and shakes his head.

  “Bentley?” he nods at the truck containing Cane a
nd Bentley three cars up.

  “Nope!” I chirp. Maybe if I play my cards right I can use Brock to secure my plan. I need to get to the trailer and I need to figure out why that backpack is so damn important.

  “That other dude. Uh, Cane!” he tries again, grinning.

  “Bingo!” I sing. “Your turn.”

  “I spy something brown.”

  I look around as he slows the car down slightly.

  “You’re full of shit. There is nothing brown!” I complain craning my neck to look behind us.

  “What the hell?” he complains as we slow even more. I plop back facing the right way to see what his issue is. The car in front of us keeps hitting his brakes. I can’t make out the truck anymore either.

  “Pass him,” I say, feeling nervous. It’s probably nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing. I suck in three deep breaths to calm myself and focus on something else.

  “Yeah, yeah, girl, I’m working on...” A sharp pain erupts in my side followed by a feeling of weightlessness. My head thrashes back and forth violently. The high-pitched sound of metal rubbing together and crunching fills the car. Glass shatters, exploding inward and cutting my face. The car rolls top over bottom three times that I can count before stopping upside down, suspending both Brock and me by our seatbelts.

  “Brock...” I wheeze. I try to turn towards him but my neck refuses to cooperate.