by Peach, Hanna
I peer around the edge of the crate, first towards the warehouse entrance, then to the direction of the water. But I see no one. I hear no one. A small surge of hope flitters in my insides, which are as cold and violent as a winter storm. I may get out of here alive.
I pause when I see the open bag of coffee on the floor and the spill of powder. Should I take some? As evidence? Should I call the police and tell them about this place? I should. It’s the right thing to do.
Then I laugh into my mouth and it tastes bitter. Yeah right. Like the police would do anything. They’ve probably been paid off to ignore this place. I’ve got to look out for myself. No one else will do it.
I step from the crate, being careful to make no noise, and begin to creep across the warehouse towards the night sky. The stars are my guide. They promise freedom. But it’s so far away. So impossibly far. The crates around me loom up like giants and their shadows fall about like black holes waiting to trap me in their depths.
As I move I have to keep myself from screaming. Please let me get out of here, please. My insides tumble and I just want to let all this fear out, but I can’t, I can’t, I just have to keep going. The hair on my neck stands on end, my skin crawls and I feel like someone’s watching me, someone’s behind me, and I keep turning my head, but they move again behind me, always behind me. Oh God, please just let me get out of here.
My breathe shakes through my lips in a soft wheezing manic kind of laugh when I slip between the last row of crates and see the sky open up in front of me. I slap my hand over my mouth. Shit. Shut up girl. Are you mad? Someone might hear you.
I blink in case I am dreaming. But there it is, the sky, the water, my escape. Right there, meters away.
This end of the warehouse has no wall at all and a crane is set into the flooring, taking up the center of the space. Through the open space I can hear mechanical noises.
I aim left and keep moving through the crates until I hit the left side of the warehouse. I follow this wall until I press aside the edge. I peer around the wall. I can see the neighboring warehouse full of light and movement. A ship is anchored at the edge of the warehouse and the crane arm is unloading shipping containers off the ship. The container makes a resonating bang when it settles on the ground.
I look down. The water is about a meter or so below. If I hang from the edge and slip in, I should make the least amount of noise. If I time my entry with the next bang of the shipping container, no one, hopefully, will hear my splash. It should be dark enough where I am that no one can see me. I glance back up to the ship to watch for the crane.
Then I notice that the ship has a name and a symbol painted on one side. I frown as I squint through the dark. Desmona, I think, is the ship’s name. And the symbol… Oh God. I recognize that symbol. That crest. That eagle with a shield and a wreath for a halo. Fear grips my body like an electric shock. It’s the same crest that I had marked on my skin. The Tyrell crest. That ship belongs to the Tyrells. So this property, these warehouses, these drugs…
Caden works for the Tyrells. He works for Jacob. No. No, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t.
Think about it. This is why Caden was following you before we met. This is how he knew who you were.
But… why didn’t he turn me in to Jacob? Why does he act like he cares for me? Why? This doesn’t make sense. My insides struggle in growing frustration to make these pieces fit, but they don’t fit.
Or maybe I just don’t want to see the truth.
I snap out of my thoughts when I see the crane moving another container from the ship. I have to move. I’m still in danger here. I tuck my gun in my pants and climb over the edge. My feet and calves slip into the water. It is cold and slimy and it smells putrid. I try not to think about what may be floating in it.
I wait for the bang. Come on. My fingers are now aching as I hang from them. I don’t think I can hang on for much longer.
Bang.
I let go and slide into the water. It is too deep for me to stand. I start to swim along the docks, away from the ship, pulling and pushing myself off from the posts. My wet clothes are heavy and restrict my movements. I empty my pockets letting my useless torch and mobile phone float down into the depths of this river. I unhook the gun from my belt and let that go. I kick off my sneakers and they too fall away before I start off again.
I just stay focused on keeping my head above water and breathing and moving as fast and as silently as I can. If I think about anything else it’ll become too much. I pass the boundary into another lot. But I keep going. And another lot and another lot, but I keep swimming. My breath is heaving, but I keep pushing. Just a little further. A little further and you’ll be safe.
At the end of the docks it becomes marshy land. Somewhere in the tangles of that marsh, I drag myself up out of the water and roll onto my back on the bank. God, I need. A minute. Breathe. Just breathe.
I want to close my eyes and fall asleep, but I can’t. I won’t let myself stop. Not until I am safe.
“Come on,” I whisper to myself. “You’ve survived worse. Get up.”
I push myself to sitting, every muscle groaning from the exertion, then to standing. I pull myself through the brushes that edge the river and stumble to the street dripping wet, exhausted and starving with no money and no way of getting anywhere. What the hell do I do now?
I look around me. The area is quiet and the houses along the other side of the street look dark. I’m not even sure where to get to the main road from here. My spirits lift a little when I spot a phone booth like a beacon up the street. But who can I call? It’s probably past midnight now. I can only think of one person who would help me and would definitely still be up at this hour.
I pick up the phone and ask the operator to connect me via collect-call to Dixie’s bar. There is silence on the other end as the operator places me on hold. I lean against the glass of the booth because I barely have enough energy to stand. Please accept the call, Dixie, please.
“Hello?” Dixie’s voice crackles through the earpiece. Thank God. My heart floods with relief.
“Dixie, it’s me. I need your help.”
Chapter 28
In my semi-conscious state I hear a car pull up by my head. I roll my face towards the noise and open my eyes with a groan. I see a large black tire followed by the cherry red door panels of a car. I hear a door open.
“Honey? Honey?” Dixie’s voice fills my ears. If I had any energy left I would cry. “Oh my Lord.” I hear her shoes clopping around towards me. I groan again and sit up. My head spins.
Dixie falls down at my side and wraps the huge towel she was carrying around me. She holds me there in a tight hug and I let my head fall onto her shoulder. “Thank you, Dixie,” I whisper.
She pulls back, holding me by the shoulder, her eyes glossy with concern, “What happened to you, honey?”
“I went for a swim.”
She snorts. “No kiddin’.” She watches me for a moment, obviously waiting to see if I will elaborate. But I don’t. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere dry and warm.”
I nod and let her help me to my feet.
In the Jeep we are silent, but Dixie keeps glancing over at me out of the corner of her eye. I brace myself for what I know is coming, and it does: “You gonna tell me what kinda trouble you’re in?”
I swallow hard. Dixie deserves some sort of explanation but… what do I tell her without putting her in danger, too? “I… can’t. I’m sorry.”
Dixie lets out a long huff. “You know, you can’t go about life just relying on your own self. People care about you and want to help.”
I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I’m so tired. I don’t want to fight. And I’ve run out of lies. “I’m not keeping it from you ‘cause I want to be some kind of martyr. If I thought you could help I would tell you, but you can’t… no one can.”
“Try me.”
“Please, Dix, just let it go. I don’t want to put you in any kind of d
anger.”
“Shit. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
I nod.
Dixie is quiet the rest of the drive back to her apartment above the bar. It’s past one, so the bar is closed, but Jeff is waiting up for us upstairs, pacing in the living room when I enter. He gives me a worried look and a quick hug when he sees me.
“You look like a drowned rat.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He smiles a little. “You make a cute drowned rat, though.”
I don’t have the energy to punch him, so I settle for sticking out my tongue.
“Alright, buster,” Dixie says coming in behind me. “Why don’t you heat up some leftover dinner for her and I’ll get her settled.” Jeff salutes her and walks into another room, I assume the kitchen.
“I can’t stay, Dix.”
“Why the hell not?” She places her hands on her hips as she turns to face me.
“I just need to shower then I have to leave.”
She stares at me and I can see that brain of hers whirring. Finally she says, “You’re not coming back, are you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the prickle of tears. No, I’m not coming back. I can’t. I shake my head. I feel her hand on my shoulder and I open my eyes.
“You said your car is gone. How you gonna get out of here?”
“I’ll find a used car lot tomorrow. Buy something cheap.”
“Well ain’t nothing gonna be open till the morning, honey. So you might as well stay till then, okay? You need at least a few hours’ sleep.”
“She can sleep in my bed with me,” Jeff yells from the kitchen.
“You’ll be sleeping on the street if you don’t watch yourself, Jeff,” Dixie yells back. No more noise comes from the kitchen. Dix turns back to me. “The couch is plenty comfy, or I’m sure Jeff won’t mind if you took his bed and he can take the couch for the night.”
“I’m not going to kick anyone out of their bed.”
“So couch it is.” Dixie nods with a smug smile. I exhale when I realize how I was just manipulated into staying, just as she wanted. “You got enough money to keep you going?”
Shit. Most of my cash is in my apartment and the rest is under that slip of carpet in my car. But I can’t go back to my apartment. It’s too risky. Cade knows where that is. So… I have nothing. No cash. No clothes. Nothing. I swallow.
“Don’t I owe you your last paycheck?” Dixie says. “From memory it’s about $300. You have a shower and I’ll get that money for you.”
Dixie turns away, but I grab at her and envelop her in a hug before she can get the money. My throat is all stuck together, so I can’t speak to say thank you. I hope she can feel it in my hug. She pats my arm before pointing me in the direction of her bathroom.
I feel a hundred times better after a shower and some leftover stew. Dixie lends me some of her old clothes: faded grey tracksuit bottoms that are loose on my hips and legs and a bright pink off-the-shoulder workout shirt that shows off too much stomach. Dix also gives me an old backpack to use.
Jeff has class in the morning, so he has gone back to bed. It’s just Dixie and me in the living room. It’s a mishmash of different furniture and colors, but it feels cozy and homey. She gives me a spare pillow and blanket for the couch.
“I’ll probably be gone before you wake up,” I say. I can barely look at her.
“Shit, hon. I’m gonna miss you. So will the boys.”
“I’ll miss you, too. When you tell Jeff and Robert that I’ve gone – maybe in a few days – tell them I said goodbye?”
“I will. Here,” she shoves an envelope in my hand. Inside, I count over $600.
I frown. “Dix, I thought you said my paycheck was only $300.”
Dixie pouts. “Call the rest of it a goodbye present.”
“Dixie, I can’t accept−”
“Oh, hush now.” She waves a manicured hand at me. “Yes, you can. I own that damn bar, I can do what I want. Oh, honey…” She hugs me tight and it squeezes a tear out of me.
“Thank you, Dix, for everything,” I say into her red curls that smell like apple shampoo. “I won’t forget this.”
She pulls back and her eyes are misty. She waves her fingers under her face. “Oh, girl, you’re making my makeup run. You just promise that you’ll look me up if you’re ever in town.”
I know I won’t come back. She knows that I won’t come back either. But I nod and she smiles and I give her one last hug.
I leave the curtains of Dixie’s living room open so that the dawn light will wake me. It’s almost two o’clock now, only a few hours from dawn. I fall into a restless sleep.
The smell of musk and wood smoke penetrates my dreams. It makes my stomach twist and my chest ache and pulls me from my sleep. As I climb back up towards consciousness the smell, instead of fading, just gets stronger. I realize just as my eyes snap open that he’s here. The dark figure crouched over me slams a hand down over my mouth before I can scream. I try to bite his hand, but I bite instead on cloth. He presses a rag firmly over my mouth and nose. I feel the fibers sticking to my lips and teeth.
“Shh, kitten. We don’t want to wake them up, do we?”
He has soaked the rag in something that smells pungent and sickly-sweet. I try to hold my breath as I struggle under his weight, until my lungs feel like they’re going to burst. I inhale, only as little as I can stand. I can’t to fight him off. He’s too strong. My toes and fingers start feeling numb.
I am forced to take another breath. Caden’s figure blurs in front of me and the shushing noise he is making starts to sound broken. Fractured.
Somebody, please, help me.
Everything fades to blackness.
Chapter 29
I drift up to the surface of consciousness. My head is spinning. Dizzy. My mouth is dry.
Where am I?
The smell of wood smoke and musk reminds me of my last few seconds of consciousness. Caden. The bastard.
I can sense him. He’s here with me, wherever here is. I keep my eyes closed and let my other senses come alive. I can feel the mattress under the length of my body. The sheets are soft under my fingers. And there’s a pillow under my head. I can hear the distant hush of a car passing. Behind my lids I can see a light source coming from my left.
I focus my attention on my wrists and my ankles. Surprisingly, neither of them are restrained. Obviously, he doesn’t view any escape attempts of mine as any real threat. I’ll show the bastard.
“You can stop pretending to be asleep now.” His voice rolls over me, the timbre making my skin alight.
Shit. I could lay still, keep pretending?
I sigh internally. I’m going to have to face Caden sooner or later. Slowly, I open my eyes. The light source is the bedside lamp. I glance around and recognize this room immediately. I am lying on Caden’s bed. I sit up and push myself back against the board. I see him sitting in an armchair that he has turned to face the bed, his feet up on the end of the bed, a gun in his hand lying across his lap.
“I’m sorry I had to knock you out. I didn’t think you would come with me if I just knocked on the door and asked.” His voice is calm as if he is apologizing for being a few minutes late. I shudder. He used to use that voice to turn me on. But now…
I should be scared. But I am sick of scared. I am all out of scared.
“You son of a bitch,” I growl out. “You mother-fucking son of a bitch.”
He scowls. “Language. There are ladies present.”
“If you hurt Jeff or Dix−”
“I didn’t touch them. I just came for you.”
“How did you find me?”
“I know that there are less than a handful of people in this city that you could call if you were desperate. And after you escaped the docks I knew you were desperate. You didn’t think I would try their places looking for you?”
I’m an idiot. A fool. “I didn’t think you had seen me.”
“I didn’t see your face, but I knew it w
as you running away. At first I thought, no, it couldn’t be you. I didn’t think you would be so fucking stupid as to follow me there. You don’t know what you’ve done, kitten. You don’t know what you’ve fucking done. They know about you now. They know that you’re here in this city. It’s only a matter of time before…” He starts muttering into one of his palms.
“Stupid? Stupid! No, I’m stupid for ever trusting you, you asshole,” I scream back. I hope to God that one of the neighbors hears me and calls the cops.
Caden’s face snaps up. “You know you can trust me.”
“Trust you? I don’t even know who you are,” I spit out. “Caden Thaine? Or Harper Lexington?”
He flinches. “Don’t call me that.”
“Harper Lexington,” I draw the name out and take pleasure in watching him wince at each syllable.
“How much do you know about Harper?”
“I know everything. I know it’s your real name.”
“Harper is dead. I’m Caden. But if you know about Harper then you understand why I am working for the Tyrells.”
No, I don’t fucking understand. “And what about this, huh?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed. I yank open the bedside drawer and grab the manila folder still inside from the other morning. I throw the folder at him and the photos of me flutter around us like frightened birds. “I know about this, you sick bastard. I know you were following me before we even met.”
He snatches his legs off the bed and sits up. “You broke into my apartment?” Then he lets out a curt laugh, but there is nothing humorous about his tone. “You have more balls than I thought. So much for trust.”
“Trust? Trust! Don’t fucking talk to me about trust. You used me.”
His face pales. “Kitten…”
My heart squeezes. How dare he use my nickname for me now. How dare he soil it. I hate it. It used to symbolize his affection, but now every memory of him calling me that is a sharp knife to my gut, another betrayal.
“Don’t call me kitten. You don’t get to call me kitten anymore. Tell me, Harper… was it all part of the job? The kisses, the sex, the part where you seduced me into giving you what was left of my heart? Was it part of your job to fuck with my life as well?”
