by Tia Louise
“You’re at the royal estate in Occitan.”
She does a little nod and takes a sip, flinching slightly at the burn.
“Please continue,” I say coolly, sitting and taking a sip from my glass.
“I was very young… You were gone—”
“Are you attempting to blame me?”
“No.” She’s quiet a moment. “I only meant, I didn’t have anyone else. I didn’t believe I ever would, so I got into… risky behavior. I took jobs for the thrill of it, hoping I’d be caught. I never was. I guess I look innocent. No one suspected me of anything.”
“Glad to know I’m not alone.” It’s a shitty thing to say, but my insides are dark. My whole world has turned to shit.
She doesn’t skip a beat. “A friend of mine knew a guy.”
“Isn’t that how they all start?”
“I don’t know about all.” She takes another sip of her scotch. Another wince. “He said I could make a lot of money carrying drugs from one place to another. I didn’t have to touch anything. I didn’t even have to speak to anyone. I carried them in my purse, then I left my purse at the designated drop. I did it twice, and then I met Blix.”
“It only took two times?”
“I think he liked me.” She shakes her head and tilts her glass side to side a little too fast. “He wanted me to work directly with him. He wanted me to go with him to Miami, but I said no.”
My insides twist tighter and tighter with every word, and it all comes out as cruel commentary. “Why? You were an adrenaline junkie. Why not go with him.”
“My aunt was killed.” Her voice shakes and my stomach churns. “I couldn’t leave Cameron. I suddenly realized what I was doing, and I wanted out.”
She falls silent. I don’t speak, and the noise of the rain surrounds us like a blanket. It drowns out the silence with the deluge of water washing in, whether it’s cleansing, I can’t tell.
I break the silence. “Let me guess. He wouldn’t let you out?”
“I’d kept my blindness from him. He had no idea until the first time I was cheated. I was supposed to bring back ten grams of pills, and I was short by twenty.”
I’m confused. “Twenty pills?”
“Yes. It felt like the right amount, but when Blix counted, I was short.” She finishes her glass of scotch, and I take it, pouring us both a refill. “No more for me,” she says shaking her head. Her eyes are tired. My eyes are tired, but I have to hear this. I hand her the tumbler of scotch and sit back with my own.
“Go on,” I say.
She nods, wiping the back of her hand over her nose. “He said he would cut off a digit for every pill—all my fingers and my toes.”
“Jesus,” I groan.
“I was terrified.” She tilts the crystal tumbler back and forth then takes another sip. “I told him everything. That I was blind, my aunt had died, my little brother needed the money… He was repulsed. He didn’t like that I was disabled.”
“Asshole.”
“He was right. Being blind is a deadly handicap in the drug world.” She takes another sip. “So he moved me to Miami to handle his logistics. Only Davis knew I was blind there. And when Davis started to steal—”
“You were back on the hook again?”
“Davis took a very long time to die.” Her knees bend and she wraps her arms around her legs. “I had one choice. Do what I was told or follow in his footsteps.”
“So you came after me.” Placing my tumbler on the desk I push off my knees to stand. I walk around the narrow space fighting the urges pulsing through me. “I’ve wanted to nail this guy for so long now. I get so close… And he’s always five steps ahead of me.”
“He owns a lot of eyes,” she says softly. “And ears.”
Turning, I look at her. She’s more relaxed thanks to the scotch. I confess, it was part of my plan. Her pale hair hangs around her like a cape, and she’s pushed one side behind her ear. Her red lipstick is smeared on her full lips, and she’s so fucking beautiful. Even tired and battered, my body longs for hers. I want to hold her.
“How did he know about us?” I have to know how much she told him.
The saddest smile touches the corner of her mouth. She seems to be studying her fingers as she tells me. “I had a picture of us. I don’t remember who took it, but your arms were around me, and you were hugging me so tight. I was smiling, and there was just so much warmth and joy and… love… in that scrap of paper. I can still see it. I used to look at it at night before I’d fall asleep.”
“Jesus, Sass.” I toss back the rest of my scotch and consider a third.
Clearing her throat, she shakes away the nostalgia. “He took it from me. He’s always looking for new weapons.”
I’ve heard enough. I’m exhausted and I’m not ready to forgive her. I’m angry and tired and betrayed and so fucking torn up inside. I stop when I reach the door to the small room.
“I’m locking you in.” She doesn’t respond, and I keep going. “The windows are sealed, and the grounds are monitored by security cameras. You have a bathroom just there—the door beside the closet. I’ll be back in the morning.”
She only does a slight nod. “I’ll be here.”
“Get some sleep.” It’s the last thing I say before leaving. I pull the door shut and lock it.
It’s pretty damn familiar to the way I left her in her apartment earlier this evening. Only this time, I know she’s not going anywhere. This room only has two keys, and I have both of them.
Confrontation
Kass
Logan leaves, and I melt into a defeated puddle on the narrow cot. The scotch took the edge off the pain, but I’m still throbbing from the way he left me. He’s so angry, but more than that, I hurt him. Pain spilled from his voice like acid on my shredded insides.
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I don’t deserve to cry, but I can’t stop them flowing from my eyes.
“Oh, Logan,” I whisper, holding the thin blanket over my mouth. I don’t want him to hear me. I don’t want anyone to think I feel sorry for myself.
A long time ago I thought I was a good person. I took care of my brother, I listened to my aunt, I followed the rules. Good people don’t do what I’ve done. When life turns to shit, good people rise up and make noble choices. They don’t make deals with the devil and put their loved ones in danger.
Cameron… I scrub the heels of my hands over my face. He’s out there unprotected. Blix will kill me when he finds me, or manages to lure me out of this safe house. He’s a master at getting what he wants, and the best way to get me is to go after Cam. Logan is far away. I don’t have a phone… Oh, God! Please, please protect my little brother.
Pain, fear, despair all twist into a tight ball in my chest. Bending my legs, I press my forehead into my knees and repeat the words like a mantra. Please please please… As if I deserve any divine favors.
All I can hope is Blix will think they’re watching Cam, waiting for him to make a move in retaliation. All I can hope is maybe they are.
* * *
The creaking of my door rouses me. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m still clenched in a fetal position, and my last thought is still on my mind. Cameron…
“I brought you breakfast.” It’s Nesbit, the woman who washed my neck last night.
Her voice is stern, and I don’t move. I only listen as she puts a tray on the desk where Logan sat. I’m not hungry. I don’t deserve food, but the delicious scent of toast and bacon and coffee make my stomach growl loudly. I’m so embarrassed.
“Sit up and eat,” the woman snaps. “Do you need help?”
She grasps my shoulder, and I flinch. I push against the cot and slowly rise to a sitting position. No telling what I look like, considering I cried most of the night—when I wasn’t begging for divine intervention.
“Here,” she says, raking fingernails through my hair several times. I sit like a child allowing her to repair the damage. “That’s be
tter.”
I’m so thirsty, it’s difficult to speak. “May I have something to drink?”
“Of course. I have coffee and juice…”
“Coffee please.” My head aches from crying and from the scotch. I’m not used to alcohol. When my vision failed, I backed off anything that could impair my ability to be independent. Alcohol is a distinct liability when I’m alone.
Nesbit rattles the cup and saucer, and I hear the metallic stirring of the spoon. If I tried harder, I could make out shadows of her progress around the room, but I don’t want to try. I only want to know my brother is safe. After that…
“Is this her?” An equally angry (if somewhat softer) voice enters the room.
“Yes, your highness,” Nesbit answers.
My skin prickles. A young, female voice and that salutation can only mean one thing.
“You’re the one working with Blix?” She’s speaking to me, and her voice has grown louder, challenging me. “Do you know who I am?”
Since I’m sitting, I can only bow my head. “Your majesty.” My voice breaks. Porcelain touches my fingers.
Nesbit hands me the coffee. “Drink this.”
“Thank you,” I whisper just before taking a sip.
The coffee is comforting and delicious. An undeserved wave of relief moves through my insides. I realize this young queen is standing over me, watching me, and I lower the cup. I don’t know if there’s a table nearby, so I hold the saucer in my hand and wait.
She starts to pace. “Are you aware of what Blix Ratcliffe does to the people he takes?”
“Yes.” My moment of relief is replaced by a cringe of shame.
“You do?” Her voice is different from anger. It’s more… outrage. “You’re aware he tortures his victims? You’re aware he cuts off pieces of their bodies and sends them to their loved ones?”
She gets louder as she speaks, and I cower more. I’m very, very aware of how Blix treats his prisoners—and anyone who crosses him.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, your majesty. I’ve heard what he does.”
“You’ve heard about it?”
A cold knot has settled in the pit of my stomach. Davis’s screams are in my ears. “No, ma’am. I’ve been outside the door. I’ve heard them.”
It’s quiet a moment. The only sound is the soft click of her heels on the wood floor. “Do you know me?”
I’m confused by her question. “I think you’re the queen regent.” I’ve never seen her, but I don’t know who else Nesbit would call your majesty.
“But do you know me? Have we ever met before?”
“N-no… of course not.”
“Of course not.” Her voice is sharp. “Have I ever done anything to you? Have I ever hurt you?”
“No.” I shake my head, keeping my eyes down.
“You don’t know me at all. I’ve never hurt you. Yet you would help this devil, this heartless, soulless bastard… Why? I want to know why.”
I’d thought it was impossible to feel worse than I did last night. My head is pounding, and my bladder takes this opportunity to remind me I haven’t gone to the bathroom since last night.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, holding the cot for balance as I rise. I try to make out the room, but the sun is low and shapes are fuzzy. “I’m so sorry, but… I need to use the restroom.”
“Here.” Nesbit steps forward and takes the cup and saucer. I hear her set it to the side before she grasps my arm. She’s not gentle in the least, but she guides me to the door leading to the small room.
The light clicks on, and she walks me to the toilet, placing my hand on the roll of paper before she returns to the door.
“I’m standing outside if you need anything,” she says.
I can’t speak. I only nod and slowly remove my panties before reaching out to sit. My insides are raw. I can’t take any more of her questions. She doesn’t understand—this was never about her. None of this has ever been about her. It’s always been about protecting Cam, paying for my debts, trying to get free of my bad choices.
Tears are in my eyes as I reach for the paper. I never thought of her. She’s right. It was easier to trade her anonymous life for mine. Looking at it now, I realize it wasn’t a fair trade. Our lives aren’t equal. She’s more generous than I am.
My clothes are back in place and I feel for the little lever to flush. Fingertips on the wall, I go to the sink and wash. No clicks. I don’t care to see this place. I’m broken and tired and utterly worthless. I’ve lost Logan…
The door opens, and Nesbit speaks to me. “Do you need help?”
People always think the blind are helpless. “No.”
I make my way slowly to where she stands and stop. I don’t know if I can pass her. She takes it as a signal to help me and grasps my forearm again, leading me to the cot. I’m too tired to fight her.
Nesbit positions me in front of the cot, and I slowly take a seat. I sit on my bed and look at the floor. A clink of dishes and what sounds like metal hitting porcelain fills the air. Nesbit is preparing a plate. I should tell her I can’t eat. My stomach is too tight, and I feel sick.
The queen is still in the room, but she doesn’t say a word. I have to guess she’s watching all of this. I’m bracing for the continuation of her wrath. She has every right to say these things to me. I don’t know her, and I was ready to deliver her to the worst human alive.
“Have to eat something.” The older woman takes my wrist and turns my palm up then puts a plate in my hand.
I release a breath and try not to cry. Jesus, the worst thing I can do right now as cry like I have the right to self-pity.
More time passes. I’m uncomfortable and miserable and this plate is in my hand. I don’t know what to do.
“You’re blind,” the queen finally speaks. She’s still angry, but her tone is different. The sharp edge is gone.
I move my eyes in the direction of her mouth. I can just make out she has dark hair. “Legally blind,” I clarify.
“What does that mean?” she says.
I strain my eyes around the room. The sun has risen higher and more light filters in through the windows. I don’t see another shape, which leads me to believe Nesbit has left the room.
“The woman is gone. It’s only you and me.”
“Nesbit,” the queen says. “She’s the housekeeper here at Occitan.”
“You’re standing near the door,” I say, trying to make out more. “You have dark hair.”
The sound of footfalls brings her closer to where I’m sitting. “So you can see me?”
“It’s like a thick fog all around,” I explain, thinking of the last time I said this, sitting in the bed with Logan. His warm hands on my waist, our bodies humming and satisfied from making love. Blinking fast, I won’t allow tears.
“How long have you been like this?” she asks.
“It’s been growing for a long time, but I didn’t know it. It suddenly grew much worse and quickly deteriorated over the last five years.”
“So you used to see?”
I nod and look down. “Yes, your majesty.”
She’s quiet again, observing. I hear a car outside and wonder if it might be Logan.
“Is that how he got you? Did he somehow use this to make you help him?” Her voice is challenging. She needs to understand, but I don’t know how she ever could. How could a lady understand the cruel twists of fate that would lead one to choose a life of crime?
“No, ma’am.” My eyes are on my hands. I slide a finger over the bandages at my wrists, thinking of that nylon rope. “When I lost my sight, I became very depressed. Then my aunt died.”
Warmth swirls at my side and she sits beside me on the cot. “Your aunt—did you live with her? Not your parents?”
“My mother died shortly after she had my brother. It was a hard pregnancy, and she never recovered. I don’t know my father.”
My hands are covered by cool, slim ones, and she gives them a squeeze.
“Why were you working with Blix?”
Why is she doing this? I’m not sure what to make of her kindness. She knows I’m one of the bad guys.
“I… I helped a friend. Well, not really a friend. I helped a guy I knew move drugs around. He paid me a lot of money for my help. Enough to take care of Cameron and me for a month.”
“Cameron is your brother.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Please call me Ava.”
I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to do that. She doesn’t give me a chance to object. “So you did drugs?”
“No—I wasn’t a junkie.” I hesitate. Just because I never took drugs doesn’t make me somehow better. “I moved them from place to place. My… friend said they wouldn’t bother me because I’m blind, and I guess I look… innocent.”
“You’re very beautiful.” Her voice is gentler. “Is that what led to Blix? Did he make you swallow balloons?”
Shaking my head, I think of the mules who swallow heroin wrapped in latex. One weak link and as much as two kilos could dump into their bloodstream. For comparison, twenty milligrams is an average bump. Basically, it would be a gruesome way to die.
“He said I was too valuable. I only carried them on my person. Then one of his connections thought he would trick me by switching out the pills. He was stupid.”
“Did Blix hurt you for it?”
That night lingers in my memory. It doesn’t take much work to remember Blix’s hand clamped over my wrist, the knife pressing into my knuckle. “He threatened to hurt me, but instead he dealt with the man and moved me to Florida.”
Her voice is grim. “I can’t believe he’s capable of mercy.”
“He’s not. He made me earn back the missing pills. It was thousands of dollars. Then it happened again. Only the second time, it was one million.”
“That’s how he got you to do this?”
It’s difficult for me to take that easy way out. “My bad choices led me here.”
She stands and walks around the room. I’m still holding the plate in my hand, and I lean forward to set it on the desk.
“You need to eat something,” she says gently.
