by A. M. Wilson
“I’m sorry, sir.” She cowers against Shelby, who glares something fierce.
I turn to my best friend, the man who’s had my back since day one, my soul feeling as black as the night surrounding us.
“You in?”
“I’m in.”
“Let’s go then so we can get this done.” I look at my watch. It’s a quarter past ten. “It’s a twenty-minute drive from here. If we hurry, we can make it before the next man shows up. Get in and get out.”
“Yeah,” he answers darkly.
Chapter Twenty-One
Shelby
Fury infuses me to my bones. I look over at Clarissa beside me in the back of the SUV, her features lost and forlorn. She looks worse than the last time I saw her, skinnier, paler, higher than a kite. I didn’t know they had her sister. She wasn’t there when I was. I would have known.
I shiver at the thought of someone I loved locked away with me, one another used to torture the other into submission. How evil are the men in charge to use family as a means of compliance? Fire licks through me at the thought of their comeuppance. It might not be today, it might not be for years, but eventually, they will pay.
I watch through the darkened windshield and shadows of the night as Alex approaches a man walking suspiciously across the darkened lot across the street. Elias sits in the driver’s seat, his earbud in to listen to hushed conversations across the way. The grossly potbellied balding man turns ramrod straight and changes his trajectory away from Alex and slinks back into the gloomy darkness. Elias chuckles humorlessly.
“He told him he was a cop. The man admitted he was the eleven o’clock. We’re a go.” His icy blue stare meets mine in the rearview. “Hopefully, only a few minutes now.”
Clarissa whimpers beside me, and I wrap her tight.
We wait.
Minutes trickle past like a summer sun shower, but the tension rising in the car is more like the wind before a storm. Elias’s knuckles blanch on the steering wheel, and he whispers a harsh expletive.
“What’s going on?” I release Clarissa and grip the back of the driver’s seat.
“Fucking hell. Sin, what’s happening?”
More waiting. More minutes pass. More rapid heartbeats and mounting blood pressure.
“He’s not responding.” Elias tears a hand through his blond hair.
I dive between the front seats and snag the stun gun I left wedged near the console.
“I’m going.”
“Like fuck you are. Stay here,” he growls, but I already have the rear door open and my legs through. I meet his eyes as he turns in his seat and inject as much bravado as I can into my schooled features.
“You can’t leave the two of us out here. If anyone comes this way, we’ll both end up right back in the hell you’ve saved us from, and all of this will be for nothing. We’d never be able to fight them off.”
“What makes you think you’ll fare any better inside?”
“Alex is in there. He just needs a distraction.”
“It’s suicide,” he fires back.
Exactly the word I was trying to avoid thinking about while at the same time knowing it’s the pillar of my courage. Two years I’ve been crippled by strange men and their control. I was left for dead, only to fight my way back to the land of the living. The only person I had in my life from before is gone and never coming back. If I lose Alex too…
I’d be a fool not to try to get him out alive.
At least if something happens to Alex and me, then Clarissa will have Elias. He’ll take care of her with the same compassion he showed me. He’d do it in our honor.
The most I can muster is a lame shrug.
“I have to try.”
“Fuck.” His head slams against the headrest. “I have to let you do this, don’t I? What other option is there?”
“I’m glad you’re coming around to my way of things.” I smile weakly.
“You sound just like him, you know that?” The fondness of his voice warms my chilled spirit.
“If you aren’t out in ten minutes, Richard is sending a squad,” Elias adds. “He thinks it’s possible he’s held up in a place he can’t talk to us.”
“That’s the hope.”
I strap the stun gun to my wrist and close the rear door without making a noise. Once I cross the street, the shadows along the far left of the rows of rooms seem like the best option. I do my best to blend in, but I’ve never done this sort of thing before, and I swear my heartbeat is loud enough to be heard clear across the parking lot. Traffic sounds and horns blare from the highway behind the run-down building, providing both coverage and hiding anyone who might be lurking.
Twenty feet from the door, I pause and allow my eyes to adjust. A light above the front door flickers out like a premonition plunging me the rest of the way into darkness. Years of captivity removed any fear of the dark. Monsters hide much easier in plain sight.
The movement inside the reception area snags my attention. I creep closer, using the darkness as long as I can. I press myself against the rotted wood and peer inside.
A greasy man stands behind a desk off to the far right, hands flat on the top. I can’t tell from here if he’s armed or has his hands placed in surrender. A gun lies discarded on the ground by the desk. Another has a gun pointed at the back of Alex’s head execution-style. His hands are raised, laced behind his hair, forced to his knees by a coward. Their backs are both to the door, though there appears to be an exit behind the desk. I swallow the sickness and force myself to keep looking even though I want to squeeze them and will the nightmare away.
Muted voices float outside, an abrasiveness to their tone. I’m running out of time. Nothing is stopping this man from putting a bullet in Alex’s head.
My element of surprise is all I have, and recklessness is my armor. The push sign on the door tells me exactly what to do. I throw my body against it and send it careening open. Those muted voices turn to shouts as I crouch, spin, and grip the stun gun in my hand. The man on Alex turns to the commotion, and I jump toward him. Jamming my weapon into his neck, I press the switch, and then the button as Elias instructed. The air crackles with electricity, and he screams as he drops to the ground, his gun sliding across the floor.
Alex doesn’t wait for his opportunity and dives toward the discarded weapon. The other man moves as well, his pockmarked face twisting into an evil sneer as he lifts his own weapon and aims it at me. I dive to the left as a bullet whizzes past my arm and shatters the window of the door. A rainfall of glass shards dances along the floor behind me.
The man chose wrong. One pop later and he’s slumped behind the desk with a bullet in his chest.
Another pop and the man I tased stops moving.
“Fucking hell. What in the fuck are you doin’ here?” Alex growls dangerously, gun still raised, shoulders rising in panted breaths as he looks across the expanse into my eyes.
Adrenaline leeches the energy from my muscles, and I sway on my feet.
“I’m a distraction,” I offer weakly.
Angry heated eyes hold mine. “Dammit, baby. Damn.” His arm lowers fractionally inch by inch as the requisite to fight leaches free.
I survey the carnage surrounding us. “We should go. Did you get her?”
“Come out, girl,” he calls, and a small redhead agreeably crawls out from beneath a table. She’s the younger image of her sister with fewer ghosts behind her eyes. If I had to guess, Clarissa probably exchanged mind, body, and soul to protect her as much as she could.
She walks up to me, and I wrap an arm around her bony shoulders, holding her close.
“Is my sister with you?”
“She is, and she’s eager to see you.” I offer a fragile smile.
We start out the door, but Alex doesn’t follow. I stop us and wait, watching as he cleans the gun and places it back near the dead guy’s hand. Then he plucks his own weapon from the ground near the reception desk and holsters it.
My e
yes must hold questions because he says, “Hoping nobody gives a rat’s ass about these two, but this way it looks like they shot each other.” He cups his ear. “Yeah, send ’em.”
“Richard?” I guess who he spoke to.
“He’s sending in a squad.”
Our speed increases as we hoof it across the lot back to the vehicles across the street.
“What do we do now?”
The grim line of his mouth sets my spine straight.
“We get the fuck out of here and let Richard handle it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sin
I look over the real estate plans spread across the counter in the kitchen, Shelby tucked close beneath my arm. The smell of her apple shampoo tickles my nose.
“I think it’ll work perfectly,” she says and wraps her arm around my waist. She tips her chin to look me in the eye. “What do you think?”
“If it’s what you want, I’ll make the call.” It’s the most honest answer I can say. I’d give her the damn world in the palm of my outstretched hands if I could. She’s got me wrapped around her finger in a way I hope it never comes loose.
The warehouse where we met two weeks ago during our rescue ended up piquing my interest more than I thought. After being crammed into Elias’s place like a bunch of sardines, we quickly realized we’d need a safehouse, and it feels like the answer. The realtor was happy to forward me the floor plans that we’ve been studying for the past half an hour.
The space is huge, three floors in total with a private garage level for easy access. What really caught my attention is the top floor. Open plan, big enough for several beds and a living space. We could easily install a kitchen and a full bath. As soon as I can cash the check from my pop’s estate, I’ll be ready to purchase. That could take a while, so I hope like hell it’s still available.
“I want to know what you think,” she reiterates, her strength growing each day. Long gone is the timid Shelby. She no longer takes any shit, from me included.
I grin down at her.
“I think …” I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose. “If it works for you, it works for me. It’s got a lot of space, which is good seein’ as we don’t know how many of these girls we might be able to help going forward. It’s not too far away, and with a few extra measures, I can have tight security all around. Fixin’ it will be a big task, but not impossible. And I’ll say it again. If it’s what you want, then we’re doin’ it.”
A lightness hits her eyes. “Thank you.”
“What’re you thankin’ me for? This is all you, blossom.”
“I couldn’t do it without you.”
I could argue, really, it’s on the tip of my tongue to debate my piss-poor attitude and drug and drinking benders of the past, but I suppress my natural tongue. Because that’s what it is—the past. My mistakes were a culmination of my pain. I see the coping mechanism clearly now that I no longer need it.
If anyone should do thanking around here, it’s me. I have a slightly better idea.
I grasp her hand around my waist and twist out of our little embrace, clinging to her fingers as my thumb brushes her knuckles.
“Something came for you today.”
Unfolding the concealed envelope from my back pocket, I drop it on top of the blueprints. I release her delicate hand with mild reluctance, swapping for her body instead. Her back touches my chest as I tug her closer and rest my chin on her shoulder, watching her tear the paper open.
“Oh, wow.” Her voice comes out quiet and bemused, and I stifle a grin in her neck. “Okay, not what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, something … else?” The paper drops to the counter as she peels off her shiny new license and runs her fingertips over the front.
“Not that this isn’t exciting. It’s weird to see it like that. So official looking. Shelby Sinclair.” She twists her head around. “I never did ask why we wrote that.”
“Because you’re mine,” I growl into her neck. “I’d like to make it official-official if you’re up for it.”
Brows slash in confusion, and a kissable pout marks her lips. “What do you mean?”
“In the eyes of the government, you’re a Sinclair. I want to make it so it’s more than just a document.”
“Alex,” she breathes, tears leaking from the corners of her beautiful, soft eyes.
“Marry me,” I rasp. “I owe my life to you, but my love? I don’t owe you that. That’s yours. You took it and nurtured it until I was helpless to fight it. And I want to stand before God, Elias, and some fake Elvis in Vegas and make sure they all know it too.”
“Fake Elvis?” She chokes through a teary laugh.
I shrug. “I’ve never been to Vegas, and we’re pretty unconventional.”
She forces herself around in my arms. Delicate hands and slim fingers caress my cheeks beneath my beard as she peers into my eyes. “Yes, my love. I’ll marry you.”
“Thank fuckin’ Christ.” I claim her mouth in a searing kiss. I pull away and rest my forehead against hers, rubbing the end of her nose with mine. “Part of that was bullshit, you know. I’d take just having your driver’s license bear my name if it meant I had you for the rest of my life.”
“I know.”
I grin against her lips and take another kiss. It’s her turn to pull away as I was just getting warmed up.
“What about the girls? What will they do while we’re away? And the investigation?”
“The girls are progressing quicker than I expected, probably because they have you and each other. I’ve already asked Richard if he’d be available for the weekend, and he agreed. They know him and trust him as much as they do us.”
I clench my jaw. “As for the investigation, I spoke to Richard about that too. It’s gone cold. Both men had gunshot residue and weapons. As far as the police are concerned, those two men got into a pissing match that didn’t end well for either of ’em.”
Shelby pulls away and looks to the side, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
“I don’t know …”
“Hey,” I call her attention tenderly. “If this is something we’re really going to do, helping more girls just like you, we’re going to have to have a care for ourselves. It can be intense at times, and you’ve been at this two weeks straight already. You need to decompress. One weekend away won’t hurt anybody.”
She rubs away an imaginary chill. “I know. I just …” She looks away for a moment, and when she returns her gaze to mine, a fire I recognize burns in their depths. Her voice lowers. “I don’t want to stop. I want retribution. He never meant for any of us to make it out alive. The only thing that makes sense to me is to help as many others get out as I can.”
I pull her into my embrace and rest my chin atop her head. “I’m with you. This is your vision, but I feel it too. For you. For Molly.”
“Yeah.” She sighs.
“We may never get him,” I mutter. Twists the knife so deep, but we can’t go into this deluded. “But fucking with his operation feels just a sweet.”
“Yeah,” she mumbles again.
I have to agree with her. I can’t imagine our lives without this purpose. The loss of Molly had driven me for so long it’d taken over the helm.
But Shelby? She’s my new captain.
Bonus
To Shelby,
My blossom,
I found you on the second darkest day of my life. The day I realized who you were became the third. It also became the brightest day out of them all. Finding you dragged me from my cloud of grief. Three months was all it took to realize you were mine. A short trip to Vegas, a ring, and a lot of fucking sealed the deal.
We didn’t need a big wedding. The fancy dress. The flowers. The only person we invited was Elias to be our witness.
If I were to do it again, there’s only one thing I’d change. It’s not the guests, the dress, the flowers, or the fake Elvis.
No, blossom. I’d give you vows. Real honest-to-God vows. I’m not a man of many words. I know you feel what I feel. There isn’t a single doubt in either of our minds. But if I’ve learned anything over the past two years of being your husband, it’s that even if you don’t need to hear those things, I need to say them.
I promise to spend the rest of my life keeping you safe, secure, and loved.
To spend the rest of my life making sure you want for nothing.
To surround you with love from myself and our friends.
I promise to help you not feel the pain of what you’ve lost. And if you do, I promise to ease it.
I’ve given you my heart, and I promise to cherish yours.
I have your love forever, and you have mine.
Happy Valentine’s Day, blossom.
Yours always,
Alex “Sin” Sinclair
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Want to read more Sin, Shelby, and Elias? Check out Elias’s story, Redesigning Fate.
Acknowledgements
There was a time that I thought I’d never write another book.
It was 2017 when I last published. I had just released At the Risk of Forgetting after writing the entire book in less than a month and was riding that high. I jumped into writing Pitch Dark not long after, which also took me on another different kind of writing high. The book was exciting and the release felt incredible.
Then, 2018 came around. I was working outside of the house and when I wasn’t working, I was momming it up. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get the words down. Every weekend I’d fire up my laptop, open this word document and stare at my blinking cursor for what felt like hours. I’d eke out a few words and feel as if I was back on the right track and then the cycle would repeat.
All through 2018 and most of 2019.
Then a spark was lit by my friend. I was encouraged to sign up for the Take Me to Bed Anthology project. “Short stories only,” she said. “You can write about existing characters.”
