Living Wilder

by Leigh Tudor

  Mercy could take each one of them down without nicking her nail polish or mussing her hair.

  She had to put an end to this. “Mercy!” she yelled.

  Her sister stopped just short of shoving one of the orderlies’ heads against the concrete brick building.

  “Avatar!” she yelled.

  Mercy instantly released the man, who stumbled to his knees, and stepped forward, shaking her head a half dozen times.

  Loren remained firm with a nod.

  “No, no, no, no,” Mercy begged, her eyes wide.

  Loren nodded again, this time with tears in her eyes. She repeated with a broken voice, “Ava . . . tar.”

  Mercy's body caved into itself as if Loren had just pulled her life support. Just as Loren knew it would. But really, she had no choice.

  Cara yanked her arm from one of the orderlies, but Mercy grabbed her by the wrist before she could go to Loren. Mercy wouldn't like it, but she would never disobey her command. There were just some directives they both knew as unavoidable.

  Painful realities.

  Jasper moved toward her, hands in the air as if she were a grenade about to blow. But she knew him so much better than those watching with bated breath. He had won, and of that he was well aware. This was all a stage show and he was the lead.

  “I have to give you credit. That was quite something,” Jasper said with a low voice. “You have managed to provide indisputable evidence of your psychopathic tendencies.” He pulled paperwork from an inner pocket of his white coat. “With this paperwork, chronicling your history of psychosis, we should have little trouble getting your friends here to take you home. Are you ready to negotiate now that you see what little leverage you have?”

  She caught Alec's profile. For the first time that she could remember, he appeared shaken and confused. She just needed to get to him and explain. But what was the point?

  After what she had done.

  Because if there was one thing of which she was certain, the world was a balance of right and wrongs. Good and bad. And even though this wasn't her first kill, it was the first one executed without remorse or the batting of an eyelash.

  According to the many sermons by Pastor Roberts that she’d listened to over the last year of Sundays, she knew the balance had to be restored.

  The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away.

  “Begin,” she said, refusing to look Jasper in the eye.

  “You go willingly, and I will allow Mercy and Cara to remain.” He bent his knees, forcing her to meet his eyes. “And when I say willingly, that means you follow my direction implicitly. Which includes admitting to all of this.” He lifted the paperwork for emphasis. “And you travel back to the Center without any arguments, the dismembering of body parts, or bringing any doubt to the veracity of my work.”

  “And you actually expect me to believe that you will allow Mercy and Cara to stay here? Forever?”

  He shrugged. “That depends on you now, doesn't it? As long as you comply, they get to have the happy, carefree life you will now only dream of. That alone is well worth walking away from their revenue potential.”

  She didn't believe a word of it.

  But to his point, and she truly hated him for it, she had run out of leverage and options.

  She glanced over his shoulder, noticing a few of the orderlies climbing into a nondescript white van. How appropriate.

  And also an unfamiliar man standing next to Alec and Ally.

  “How did you find us?” she asked, near her breaking point.

  “Well, that is an interesting story,” Jasper said, holding his finger to his lip in contemplation and then turned his head as if counseling her through her crisis. “Mercy's fucktoy, Vlad, has been in touch with me for months. But he won't be giving you anymore trouble. Oh, and you know that nice fellow that's been courting you here in Walnut Grove?”

  He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

  Loren's eyes narrowed.

  Jasper continued, “He works for me. Oh, and you're going to love this. I mean the irony. His mission? To gather intel on you and your sisters and assist in your abduction.”

  And she broke.

  Her chest heaved on a sob, and her eyes began to pool, unable to look at Alec. She ditched her head and stared at her feet. Doing her best to get herself together. She lifted her eyes to the sky and took a breath and made the mistake of looking his way again.

  He stared back at her, holding Ally. Looking at her with doubt and mistrust, as if he had never seen her before.

  As if she were out of her mind.

  She thought of the way he touched her as if she were someone special when, all along, she was the mark. A mark he got to fuck.

  Once again, she had placed her trust in someone, only to have it thrown in her face.

  She glanced down at the inert body at her feet.

  But then again, did she deserve any better?

  The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away.

  Loren’s focus moved to her Chucks, chewing her lip in order to refrain from breaking down completely.

  “Deal.”

  “That's my girl. Good choice.”

  “I ask one thing.”

  He sighed. “Don't push me.”

  “I want to talk to him.” Her eyes shot up toward Alec.

  “For what purpose?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Closure.”

  “You understand our deal? If you lay one hand on him, or worse, if you tell him anything to discredit me in hopes of getting some sort of revenge or misguided romantic closure, your sisters will also be going back to the Center.”

  “The closure’s not for me.”

  He blinked slowly, motioning for one of the orderlies that had yet to jump into the van.

  Jasper held out his hand as the terrified man placed the canvas bundle in it.

  Loren's chest concaved further. “Is that necessary?”

  “Oh, my, yes,” he said, holding it up to her as if he were dressing a child. “Do as you’re told.”

  She obediently slid her arms into the sleeves as he crossed her arms, turning her around and tying the straitjacket in the back.

  Before Jasper could turn her back around, she made the mistake of looking at Mercy and Cara and wondered if this would be the last time she would ever see them.

  They held one another, doing nothing to come to her aid.

  They knew better.

  Alec held Ally tight to his side as Jasper waved him toward the lot.

  He looked at Forrest, who gave him a head nod, communicating he’d stay close to Ally.

  “Ally,” Alec said, “This is Trevor Forrest. Stay with him while I speak with Loren.”

  “Why is she wearing that?” Ally asked, looking up at him with confusion as she swiped at her eyes. Alec gently transferred her over to his partner.

  “It’s to protect us, and to protect Loren from herself.”

  Ally grabbed his arm. “But she didn’t do anything wrong. She was trying to protect me,” she said, patting her chest.

  “Ally, please just give me a minute.”

  He guided her toward Forrest and made his way into the yard, as Jasper blocked him once again.

  “She’s distraught but having a moment of lucidity. She wants to talk to you.”

  Alec didn’t spare him a glance as he made his way to Loren. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t feel completely at odds with her standing there wrapped in a straitjacket, tears streaming, her hair a wild halo around her face.

  He needed to hold her.

  He needed to tell her he was going find a way to help her, somehow, some way.

  But right now was not the time. And until that time came, he needed to maintain his cover and play along with the prescribed assignment.

  He also needed to make sense of the man she just brutally assaulted and killed in record time. It’s not that he was immune to brutality, having seen so many atrocities while serving in Afghanistan.

  But this wasn�
�t the Middle East or a military zone. This was the small town of Wilder, Texas, where the most danger you had to face was the sketchy stoplight in the middle of town.

  Or a crazy fucking wife, who tortured your sister.

  He blinked at the unlikely similarities of his past and present.

  Fuck.

  Still, nothing made sense relative to this jacked-up mess of a mission, where there were more questions than information. In all his years in the military, he didn’t know of a single assignment where everyone involved wasn’t deeply entrenched and fully aware of all the details and ultimate remedy.

  Trying to piece together the sparse information he was given against what he knew from spending time with this enigmatic woman made him feel confused and off-kilter.

  Of course, having fallen for her might have had something to do with that.

  But if she were truly criminally insane, why did her sisters willingly leave with her and escape the facility?

  How could she care so much for Jimbo and the people of Wilder, and then murder a man in front of witnesses without a second thought?

  How could she threaten to kill Ally when she had been nothing short of a sister to her over the last several months?

  And why did Ally seem to be the only person unaware of the threat?

  He walked within a few feet of her and stopped.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” she said, her tears and blood moving in converged rivulets down her face. “Good work. You had me totally convinced.”

  He pulled a bandana from his back pocket to wipe her cheeks, and push the hair out of her eyes, but she reared her head back, her eyes violent.

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  “Loren,” he hesitated, working through what he wanted to say as opposed to what was dictated. Afraid that if he didn’t toe the line, he’d get pulled from the mission, and be unable to keep her safe during transport and while inside the research facility.

  Remaining mute and fucking hating himself for it, she spoke again, “I want you to know that Mercy and Cara are completely innocent. No matter what they tell you, you have to believe that. I know you might not trust me,” she chuckled to herself, “can’t say I’ll be doing any ‘trust fall’ exercises with you anytime soon, but I swear to you, on my parents’ graves, they are innocent.”

  “What about you, Loren? Are you innocent?” He needed something, anything to help him make sense of the past few hours.

  She glanced over his shoulder, her eyes narrowing. “No,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “I’m anything but.”

  He lowered his head toward hers, hell-bent on getting more answers.

  Something.

  “Lab coat over there,” he said, nodding his head toward Bancroft, “says you used Ally as a pawn, that you refused to be taken.” He finally looked up, but he was too much of a coward to look her in the eye. “That you said you’d kill her before going back.”

  He found the balls to glance at her to catch her reaction, which was simply a weaving pause and intake of breath.

  He knew her answer would be a defining moment and wasn’t sure he was prepared for it.

  She turned toward him, her eyes now steady and sure. “Collateral damage. Isn’t that what you military types call it?” She turned her eyes away as if searching for something in the distance. With a shrug, she said, “It was unfortunate that she was all I had to leverage.”

  He bowed his head with his hands on his hips, his chest tight, finding it difficult to swallow.

  Jasper interrupted them, standing with his goons by the fence. “We need to leave. We’ll clean up the mess, but it’s time to take her home.”

  Alec moved his hand to her back, and she jerked her torso away from him.

  He froze at the sudden movement.

  “Let me make myself clear,” she said with a low, menacing voice. “You may never touch me again. I will come with you willingly, but don’t make the fatal mistake of assuming compliance as weakness.” A firestorm raged in her eyes. “Because right this very minute, I could so easily sweep your feet out from under you, wrap my thighs around your throat”—she bent toward him with a disturbing grin—“a place we both know you love to be”—she straightened, her eyes hardening to steel points—“and with one swift twist, break the vertebrae in your neck. I taught myself how to fight with my hands tied behind my back at a very, very young age.”

  Alec remained silent at her waning attempt to maintain some sense of dignity, her trembling body restricted by the canvas jacket.

  Alec finally nodded, decimated.

  How many times had he told Ally that when people tell you who they are, believe them?

  So why the holy fuck didn’t he believe her?

  Rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip, aware of the number of eyes tracking their every move, he caught Mercy to his right, now glaring at him with unreserved hostility and Cara standing beside her with a look of pure confusion and indecision.

  “What’s ‘Avatar’?” he asked as they began their trek toward the fence entrance and the medical transport vehicle.

  She smiled weakly. “It means it’s over and to stand down.”

  He nodded again.

  She added, “It’s our safe word.”

  * * *

  Pre-Order Beyond Wilder Today

  Acknowledgments

  Ah, where to begin?

  First and foremost, I’d like to thank my parents, who insisted I study something practical in college as opposed to attempting a writing career straight out of high school. In their defense, they were fearful I’d end up unemployed and writing what was never going to be the next great novel and living, infinitum, in their renovated basement. And to their credit, they did manage to raise me without inflicting any bodily harm or slipping sedatives in my morning smoothies.

  Benadryl doesn’t count, by the way.

  The least I could do was move out, go to college and give them back some peace of mind.

  Turned out, Mom and Dad were right. I enjoyed a wonderful career in business where I traveled the world and humbly learned how much I didn’t know. So thank you to the parental units. The life lessons learned in business and abroad garnered me tons of stories from which to feed, not to mention some hefty self-preservation skills.

  I’d also like to thank my beta readers, Sharon Conway and Crystal Bobo. You gave me constructive criticism while at the same time convincing me that I had a story worth telling. You ladies are exemplary human beings, and I’m honored to have you in my life and reading my books. Over and over and over . . .

  Additional thanks to beta reader Brittny Downing, also my wonderful daughter, who read all the sexy scenes written by her saintly mother, and managed not to gag . . . or managed not to tell me that she gagged. Your feedback was always clear and honest, and for that I am grateful. Feel free to forward your therapy bills to my attention. Kidding. Send them to your Dad.

  Lastly, I want to thank Sherry Patterson, who has followed my writing efforts since day one and made me feel like an author before I was one. Sherry, you have no idea how your kind words and enthusiasm sparked my drive and nurtured my self confidence.

  About the Author

  Lēigh lives in the suburbs of Atlanta, GA, with her husband that she lovingly refers to as The PoolBoy.

  She recently retired from a career in the tech industry, working a variety of positions where she sold, trained, marketed and managed . . . a ton of shit. She loved it, don’t misconstrue the excrement comment, but now finds herself blissfully happy following her, well, bliss.

  Lēigh’s motto is “Find your tribe and love them hard.” If this sounds like someone ya’ll want to hang out with, come join her tribe!

  Email: leigh@leightudor.com

  Website: www.leightudor.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/Leigh.Tudor.31

  Instagram: instagram.com/leightudorauthor

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