The Maybe Series

by Ella Miles

  The truck slows a little, and I know this is my chance. I lift my foot hard and fast, trying to give as much momentum to get the door moving upright. It moves about halfway open. It’s enough for me to jump out.

  Buildings. I see large buildings. Thank God. I have a chance.

  I don’t have time to decide which building is my best bet to run toward. I don’t have time to make a plan. I just run. I jump from the truck, somehow landing my feet on what I realize is a rocky dirt road instead of the pavement it should be in such an urban area. I don’t have time to think about it though. I just run.

  I run straight ahead for a block and then duck down an alleyway. I don’t hear the truck turn around behind me. I don’t hear footsteps either, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t there. I keep running down the alleyway, trying to get as far away as possible, before I decide to duck in somewhere to get help.

  But, as I run, I begin to lose hope that I’m going to find anyone who can help me. As I run, I realize where I am—the one place I never wanted to return to yet knew I would have to one day.

  Yet this is the one place I wanted to be. This is where I’ll get revenge for Kinsley. This is where I’ll make things right. But I won’t find help here because there is no one here who can help. There’s only darkness and hatred. Only danger.

  I keep running though, hoping I can find someplace to duck inside to stay hidden, until I can get these ropes off and find a weapon so that I can kill them.

  But I don’t get the chance.

  I turn the corner, and Santino is standing with a gun pointed at me. I freeze. I consider turning and running in the opposite direction, but I was wrong. These guys are experts. They do this for a living. If he pulls that trigger, he won’t miss, so I don’t move. This isn’t my chance. I will have to try again—if I get another chance.

  Santino walks slowly toward me, the gun pointing straight at my head. I don’t focus on the gun. I don’t know if it’s my training or what that tells me to keep my eyes on the shooter and not the gun. The gun isn’t what is going to kill me; the shooter will. The shooter’s eyes will tell me if he is going to shoot or not. By the time his finger pulls the trigger, it is too late to react.

  And Santino’s eyes are telling me that he doesn’t want to shoot me, but he will if I run. I don’t understand what he needs me for, but I’ll be patient long enough to find out. So, I stay in place as Santino moves closer and closer.

  He grabs ahold of my shoulder to turn me around as he presses the barrel of the gun to my head. “Walk,” he says.

  I walk. When we make it out of the alleyway, another man comes over and holds on to my other arm, but Santino doesn’t remove the gun from my head. It stays there, and I no longer have the ability to look Santino in the eyes. I’ll have no warning if he changes his mind and pulls the trigger.

  The buildings become more and more familiar as we walk through the buildings until the one I recognize comes into view. The door is still barely hanging on to the hinges. We don’t pause at the door though. Santino doesn’t knock. He just pushes me inside where I know I will never return. There are only two reasons they would bring me here—to get some info out of me and then to kill me. There is no other reason.

  I just have to find a way to kill as many of these motherfuckers as I can before I go. That way, Kinsley’s death won’t be for nothing.

  Santino walks next to me, the gun still firm against my head, as the other man trails off behind me. I can’t tell, but he most likely has a gun on me as well.

  We walk down a hallway, and I hear voices. One voice in particular sounds familiar. It’s the same voice I heard that night when I came here. The same voice I heard at the casino. It’s almost identical to Santino’s voice. It’s a wonder I didn’t recognize Santino’s voice before.

  We round a corner, and the voices get louder.

  “In here.” Santino grabs my arms and jerks me into a large room full of people.

  The contrast between the dark hallway and the light room blinds me at first. I close my eyes and then open them again, trying to get them to adjust quickly.

  “Good job, brother. I wasn’t sure if I could count on you to do this job, but you’ve proven your worth,” a man says in a similar voice to Santino.

  I see the man stand up from the table of men who have now grown silent. The man walks over to us, and I see that he is definitely Santino’s brother. He has the same coloring and facial structure although this man is a little taller and slightly older than Santino. And his hair is long, compared with Santino’s buzzed head. But I realize now that they both have the same eyes. Eyes that are out for blood.

  “I’m Nacio,” the man says. “Glad you could finally join us.”

  I glare at him but don’t say anything. I don’t know what his role is here yet. I won’t disrespect him and get myself killed until I have killed the person responsible for Kinsley’s death.

  The man turns to the far side of the room. “Sweetheart, will you come here?”

  He motions to the side of the room. My stomach churns as I think about whatever vile woman would think so little of other women to be with a man who treats women like property, like dirt. I can’t imagine such a woman.

  A woman stands at the far side of the table. She doesn’t look at me. All I can see are her dark pants and black lacy bra. She doesn’t even bother to wear a shirt. My eyes travel up though and then stop at the chopped off blonde locks.

  It can’t be…

  The woman turns to me, and I see…

  “Kinsley?” the word falls from my lips as she walks to Nacio’s side.

  She barely looks at me though and then turns her attention to Nacio.

  She’s alive. My heart beats wildly as I see her here, alive. I don’t know how it’s possible, and I don’t really care. All I know is, my heart has a reason to keep beating. My lungs have a reason to keep breathing.

  Somehow, the universe has answered prayers that I never asked because I thought it was impossible.

  She’s alive. Kinsley is standing no more than five feet away from me, and I want nothing more than to run to her, tackle her to the ground, and kiss her like crazy.

  I feel a tear welling up in my eyes. A tear of pure joy. It drops quickly down my cheek, so fast that I’m not even sure if anyone notices.

  “You know how you told me you wanted to kill the FBI agent who destroyed your life?” Nacio says to Kinsley. “Well, I had my brother get him for you. I agreed that he deserved a lot worse than just going to jail. I wanted him to really pay for what he did, too, so I brought him here for you.”

  Kinsley doesn’t look at me as he’s talking. Instead, she looks at him. A slow grin forms on her face at his words. A smile that I have never seen before. A smile that I don’t understand.

  “What do you think about that, sweetheart?”

  Every time he calls her that, I want to hurt him. I want to bring him as much pain as he brings me when he calls my girl that. I can’t stand it.

  “Thank you,” Kinsley says simply, a smile still on her face.

  “Really? I break him out of jail for you, and that’s all the thanks I get? If I had known you didn’t really mean what you said last night, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  When he finishes speaking, she doesn’t hesitate. She walks straight to him, grabs his neck, and solidly kisses him on the lips.

  I lose it. I move toward them, intending to put a stop to it, when Santino grabs my arm.

  “You move, and I’ll kill you,” he says.

  I stop moving. But I can’t fucking look at her kissing another man. I close my eyes and wait until she finishes the kiss.

  I can’t believe her. I can’t believe she would so willingly kiss another man. I thought I was her life. I was wrong. I’m a fucking idiot.

  I should have chosen the FBI, not her. She’s willingly working here. She could have left at anytime, but instead, she’s staying here. For all I know, she’s been participating in the smuggling, in the
rapes, in the killings. For all I know, she is a monster, just like everyone else in this room.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I open my eyes to a smug Nacio beaming from the kiss, like he has just won. He won. I lost. Now, I just want them to get this over with and put a bullet between my eyes.

  “It doesn’t change anything, Nacio. I’m not going to marry you,” Kinsley says.

  Nacio’s face drops a little.

  The men around the room are all staring at the exchange between the two of them. I suspect that it was not something that Nacio wanted Kinsley to share with everyone. He didn’t want her to share that she had turned down his proposal, but it makes me feel better to know that she isn’t going to marry the smug fucker—at least, not yet.

  He raises his eyebrows at Kinsley, but she stands defiantly next to him, not backing down. I don’t quite understand the relationship between the two, but if I know anything about Kinsley—which I’m not sure I do—I know she is stubborn as hell and won’t back down, not when she decides on what she really wants.

  Nacio walks over to her and whispers something in her ear. She frowns but doesn’t say anything further.

  Nacio pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and hands it to Kinsley. “Kill him,” Nacio says to her while motioning to me.

  “What?” she says, frozen with the gun in her hand.

  Kill him, I think. Kill Nacio.

  We won’t survive, but at least the ringleader in all of this would be dead, too. At least the man who forced Kinsley to kiss him would be dead.

  “Kill the FBI agent. After all, he’s the reason your father is dead. Kill him, and avenge your father.”

  I hold the gun in my hand. It’s heavier than I thought it would be. For such a small thing, it feels heavy in my hand. I can’t stop staring at it.

  This tiny object is the cause of so many people dying. So many lives have been lost all because of this weapon. Those lives might not have been lost if the person hadn’t had a weapon that so easily separated them from the crime they were committing. If they’d had to use a knife instead of a gun, would so many killings have happened? If they’d had to get their hands dirty with the victim’s blood, would they still have done it? If they’d had to really think about it and plan it with a bomb, would they still have done it?

  I hold the gun in my hand. How easy it would be for me to aim the gun at Killian and pull the trigger. It wouldn’t even feel like I’m really killing him because this gun doesn’t feel dangerous. It doesn’t feel any different than holding any other inanimate object. But it is. This object is the most powerful of all.

  I could do it. I could kill Killian and secure my place here. I would have all the power if I did. I know Nacio thinks I can’t do it. He’s still suspicious of why I’m here. He thinks I still love Killian.

  He’s right. I do.

  The second I saw Killian walk into the cafeteria, my heart stopped. The one thing I was trying to prevent from happening has happened. And, now, everything that I have been through over the last few days without Killian has been for nothing. Now, we are both going to die.

  I tried to hide behind the table of men blocking Killian from me. I thought, if I hid, then nobody would be able to see my feelings so clearly plastered all over my face. There’s no way for me to hide how I feel about Killian.

  When Nacio called me to the center of the room, I couldn’t bear to look at Killian for more than one second. If I did that, the whole room would know that I still loved Killian, that I always did. They would know and shoot us both without a second thought. So, I didn’t look at him for more than a second. I tried to remain frozen. I tried to remain careless. I tried to look at anybody but Killian, tied, standing in front of me.

  When I saw him so broken and in so much pain at the sight of me, I almost couldn’t stand it myself. I couldn’t stand remaining by Nacio and not running to Killian. Even if it meant we would both die, it meant I could die wrapped in his arms. I could die loving him. Death might be worth one final embrace. One final kiss.

  I didn’t though. I stayed by Nacio’s side. And I did the only thing I could think of that would make Nacio less suspicious about my relationship with Killian. I kissed Nacio. It wasn’t a gentle, chaste kiss either. I forced my tongue into Nacio’s mouth as our lips collided together. I grabbed the nape of this neck, keeping his lips firmly against mine. I moaned just a little as his tongue pressed against mine. I put everything I could into the kiss.

  And, now, I won’t be able to live with myself for doing it. I won’t be able to live with myself for kissing anyone but Killian. I won’t be able to forgive myself for kissing another man in front of Killian, especially since that might be the last image of me he ever sees. I hate that I put a small drop of doubt into Killian’s head, making him think that I don’t love him. But I already did that with the note I wrote him. I already planted that seed in his head. With the kiss, I just confirmed that he means nothing to me.

  I shiver from the cold draft in the room, bringing me back to the present. I resist the urge to wrap my arm around my chest to warm myself. I hate that I’m basically wearing a bra in front of a dozen men, but I can’t let Nacio see me as weak. He has to see me as an equal, so I won’t let him know that he has won with the clothing he bought for me, considering this outfit was the most covered one he bought. I should be thankful for the clothing. Revealing clothing makes it easier to control these men. It makes it easier for them to think that I am just a sex object and not a person who schemes and plans and wants power of her own.

  “On your knees,” Santino says to Killian.

  I glance up in time to see that Killian hasn’t moved. He’s standing tall in front of us, just like he always does. Santino forces him into a kneeling position. I don’t know why it matters whether he stands or kneels if he is going to be shot and killed either way. I guess kneeling makes it easier for me to shoot him. If he’s standing, he might run at the last second.

  I take a chance and look into Killian’s eyes as he kneels in front of me. They’re dark and intense, like always. When I look at them, I realize he’s in a lot of pain, not necessarily physical but just pain. I’ve hurt him in unforgivable ways, but I still see love there. When I see it, I look away, back to the gun in my hand, hoping that I am the only one who can see the love still there in his eyes.

  “Kill him,” Nacio commands again from behind me.

  What I really want to do is kill Nacio. He deserves it for what he’s done. If I did that though, all the men sitting at the table on either side would shoot me next before I even had a chance to react.

  “Kill him for what he did to your father,” Nacio says.

  I have to know. Before I figure out if I have any options other than killing Killian, I have to know what Nacio is talking about.

  “What do you mean, Killian killed my father?” I ask Nacio.

  “Killian is the reason your father is dead. Your father didn’t die from a heart attack. Killian killed him.”

  “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “When your father found out Killian was FBI, Killian did the only thing he could to save himself. He killed your father first before your father could kill him, before his cover was blown and we found out he was FBI.”

  Nacio smirks at Killian. “We found out anyway.”

  “Lies!” Killian screams suddenly from the ground. “It’s all lies!”

  I glance from Nacio to Killian in time to see Killian getting kicked in the back by Santino.

  “Shut up, or I’ll shoot you myself,” Santino says.

  Killian squeezes his eyes shut, most likely dealing with the pain from being kicked hard in the back. I watch his breathing become uneven as he tries to deal with the pain.

  I turn back to Nacio, unable to watch Killian in pain without feeling it myself. But, when Nacio speaks about Killian killing my father, he doesn’t seem to be lying. He’s telling the truth—or what he believes to be true. Killian was involved in my father
’s death. I just don’t know in what way exactly.

  A week or two ago, that would have hurt me to find out that Killian might have been the one who killed my father. Now though, it barely stings since I know my father got what he deserved based on how he’d lived his life. He probably deserved even worse.

  I turn back to Killian. He lied though. Again, he lied. And I have to make it known that I’m not happy about it.

  I walk toward him, my eyes focused on his. I can’t show him anything but the anger that I let surface there from another lie he told me. Another lie that hurts me. That’s all I get—lie after lie after lie from him. Never just the truth. With him, there is always something more hidden.

  I walk until I’m standing right in front of him. I’m fuming. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, all unsure of what I’m going to do. Kill him? Question him? Forgive him?

  I try to feel the anger as best as I can as I look Killian in the eyes. All I see is love and truth. Truth that I never expected to see. He thinks I’ve moved forward to kill him. He thinks that these are his final seconds alive, and with those seconds, he is going to love me.

  I hate that he thinks that. I hate that I could kill him, and he would still love me with his last breath.

  I bend down, so I can look eye-to-eye with Killian for what he thinks is going to be the last time. I glare at him with my blue eyes while his soften with more love. He’s trying his best to tell me it’s okay, that he understands why I’m doing this.

  I stand back up. “This is for killing my father,” I say. I raise the gun and hit it against Killian’s head as hard as I can.

  I hear a gasp from someone behind me. I watch as Killian’s head whips to the side, and I am surprised to see a gush of blood spill from his lips where I hit him instead of the side of his head where I aimed.

  I glance up and see Santino smiling smugly behind Killian, happy that I’m on their side instead of Killian’s.

  I watch Killian put his head back upright, and I’m scared at how much blood covers his face. I can’t hit him in the head again, like I was planning. It would cause too much damage. Too much pain.