Heaven to Hell (A Naughty Box Production Book 1)

by Rue Volley

  I shook my head no, my eyes flicking over to the stack of white envelopes on the table. “No dice.”

  “No dice, huh? That’s an interesting name too.” Zeke took a deep breath. “What about cards? A game.”

  I grabbed the chain that bound my hands together and pursed my lips. “Sorry. Little tied up right now.”

  “What if I could grant your freedom?” he asked, dark eyes sparkling.

  I swallowed and frowned. “What are you? A fucking genie?”

  “No.” He chuckled, the smile quickly falling from his face. “No more Lester. No more Alejandro. And no more what my brother, Colton, wants to do to you.”

  “Your brother?” My eyes bulged.

  “By choice…his choice,” Zeke replied.

  I did my best to cross my arms, part of me curious about what debt I’d have to pay in order to not be shackled to a wall. “And what happens instead? You get me all to yourself?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  I pursed my lips. “Trust me, I’m not putting anything in your mouth.”

  Zeke let out a long sigh and paced the room. His aftershave smelled spicy and the hint of cinnamon gum lingered in the air as he passed by me. “You might change your mind.” He shook his head slowly.

  “There’s not a snowball’s chance in Hell.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “True words. You really don’t get it yet, do you?”

  “And why would I change my mind?” I asked.

  His eyes locked with mine. “Because I’m the one who sabotaged Ali’s car.”

  5

  I furrowed my brow. “Why…why would you do that?”

  “So, I could help you.”

  “Okay.” I snorted. “You’re delusional. I don’t need a fucking knight in shining armor. Thanks.”

  “Really? Last I heard you were ‘all tied up’.” He smirked. “I mean, if you’d rather stick around here with those dumbfucks, be my guest. Trust me, I know Colton. Do you really want to know what’d happen if you stuck around? His track record with pets isn’t so great.”

  “Pets? What are you people? This place?”

  “Another conversation for another day,” he said.

  “Or we can talk about it now,” I insisted.

  Zeke pulled back a panel of the sheer excuse for curtains and glanced outside. “I don’t think you understand how little time we have.”

  “And I don’t think you understand I don’t trust you.” I crossed my arms over my stomach.

  Zeke walked across the room, still holding the deck of cards in his hand. “And who’s to say I trust you…angel.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, as if the words had bitten deep into my flesh.

  He handed me half the deck of cards, his fingertips briefly touching my knuckles. “I know what you are.”

  Anger poured through me, and it heated me from head to toe. He was as wretched as everyone else. “So, does that make me valuable to you? A possession? A—”

  “Let me finish,” he cut me off, pulling a card from the stack.

  I studied the seven of diamonds he held, forcing my mouth shut as he shoved it back in his half of the deck. I bit my lip and looked at the swirly red font on the top card in my pile. Two of hearts. I fingered over the glossy coating on the back.

  He looked thoughtful. “If I draw a red card, you tell me something about you. If I draw a black card, I get to ask a question about you.”

  I swallowed.

  He continued, “And if you draw a red card, I tell you something about me. If you draw a black card, you get to ask a question about me. Simple, right? Black? Questions. Red? Facts. We take turns.”

  I remained quiet.

  “Deal?” He paused and the hint of a smile threatened his mouth. “C’mon. You want to trust me, don’t you? When we finish the deck, you can decide whether you want my help or whether you want to stay at Casa Lester.” Zeke shuddered. “You hold the control here.”

  I thought back to a similar conversation with Eliza. “You have a say in the decision, and I’m still wondering what it’s going to be.”

  Pushing away the memories, I glanced toward the doorway, wondering if Zeke were a wolf in sheep’s clothing and which was the lesser of two evils. Part of me knew I wanted nothing to do with Colton, Jacob, Lester, or Alejandro.

  With a deep breath, I sealed my fate. What was the worst that could happen? “Deal.”

  A warm smile spread across Zeke’s face and he nodded toward me. “Ladies first.”

  I stared at the stack of cards in my hand, feeling as if they were toxic, each one a Pandora’s Box waiting to be opened. Now, it was a matter of picking my poison. With shaky hands, I pulled a card from the deck, closing my eyes before I flipped it over in my hand. Five of diamonds. I held it up toward him and remained quiet.

  “Something about me.” He sighed. “I don’t like onions.”

  I laughed before I could stop myself. “Seriously? That’s what I get?”

  “It’s my game, and they’re my rules.” His face remained serious as he tugged a card from the middle of the deck. “Jack of clubs.”

  I scrunched my eyes shut and waited for the invasion to begin.

  Zeke looked thoughtful as he bit his lower lip. “What’s your favorite color?”

  Slowly, I opened one eye and then the other, realizing I wasn’t in pain. “My what?”

  “Favorite color. You know that hue you like better than all the rest? It’s a pretty common question, and girls usually have an opinion.” He sat back on the couch, reinstating his casual position, crossing his ankles on the ottoman.

  “Yellow,” my voice was hoarse.

  “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  I didn’t offer a reply as I pulled a card from my stack. If he wanted to be pokerfaced, so I could I. “Four of spades.”

  He folded his hands behind his head, his body language remaining relaxed, but cool.

  “Why are you here with those jackholes?” I nodded once, my gaze landing near the doorway.

  He leaned forward on the edge of the couch and ran his fingers over the stubble on his face. “Have you ever felt like you didn’t fit in? Nothing you did was ever right? Like you were alone?”

  Silence.

  I swallowed hard knowing that affirmation sat on my tongue like a bitter truth as I thought back to the nubs of black wings nestled below the skin on my back. However, I refused to admit it aloud. “No,” I whispered the lie. “I don’t know.”

  He nodded. “Well, that’s my story.”

  I had a hard time believing there wasn’t more. At that moment, I decided I was going to solve the caper. Shoving his words to the back of my mind to be dissected at a later time, I tightened my grip around the deck of cards in my hand.

  “Six of spades,” he said, twirling the card through his fingertips.

  I slumped my shoulders. Seriously? Another question?

  “What’s the story,” he nodded toward the tattoo on my shoulder, “behind the artwork?”

  I glanced down at the decorative blaze of greens, blues, and yellow on my right shoulder, and the simple floral outline on my left. “It’s my reminder to not hide who I am, to not mute my true colors,” I replied.

  “Colors.” He nodded as if he were the one inspecting me as I thought to the wings on my back. I didn’t like having the tables turned.

  “Eight of diamonds,” I replied before he could dive deeper into the topic.

  He replied, “If I said I promise I won’t hurt you, would you believe me?”

  I felt my walls start to rise. “That’s a question. You’re breaking your own rules.”

  “Fair enough.” Next, he pulled the ace of clubs.

  “I’m beginning to think this game is rigged,” I muttered.

  “Are you married?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t have a husband,” I immediately replied. “And what? My captor suddenly has morals or is going to hit on me?” I raised an eyebrow.

/>   “Maybe.” He licked his lips and I caught myself looking at the tip of his tongue; the momentary flicker pink wasn’t enough. “And for the record, I’m not your captor. It wasn’t me who put you here.”

  I pulled the three of clubs. “What’s your last name?”

  “Black,” he replied. “Six of spades. “What’s your first name?”

  What the hell is with this deck? “Pass,” I replied coolly.

  He stared at me, not backing down.

  “What? You think I don’t know that they’ve got paperwork right there?” My eyes flicked to the stack on the card table. “The only saving grace I have is that they don’t know which one I am. And I don’t trust you enough to tell you.”

  “Enough.” He nodded.

  “‘Enough’ what?” I asked, wondering if it were a demand.

  “You don’t trust me enough, which implies you trust me some, just not enough…yet.”

  “Yet?” I furrowed my brow.

  He nodded slowly.

  There was no way to backpedal. “Overly optimistic, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll stick with comfortably confident,” he replied, flashing me a dimpled grin.

  “I’m twenty-four. You can have that,” I replied.

  Over the next thirty minutes, I learned many facts about Zeke. He only had one brother, his favorite food was Thai, he graduated early from college, and he lived alone. We were officially out of cards.

  He learned similar truths about me, except for one—I refused to give up my name.

  “Do you trust me yet?” he asked.

  I shook my head and was honest. “No.”

  “Well, we’re running out of time.” He pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans, the black pistol causing my lungs to stop functioning.

  My jaw fell. “You’re going to shoot me because I don’t trust you?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Then, what are you doing?” I asked, my voice escalating.

  “Ensuring you don’t get tortured or die,” he replied. “Stand still.”

  He cocked the hammer and lowered his aim as I scrunched my eyes shut. There was nowhere to run. Maybe I was better off dead.

  Bang!

  I winced, waiting for pain to consume my body or render me lifeless, but it didn’t happen. Slowly, I opened one eye and then the other. Zeke was standing in front of me, and the gun was lowered at his side.

  I looked down, and the top of the combination lock had been shot off. Just as he’d said—freedom granted.

  “Trust me now?” he asked.

  My mouth gaped, and I was unsure of what to say. Instead, I fell to my knees and reached for the lock with shaky fingers.

  Zeke placed a warm palm on my shoulder. “Don’t.”

  The single-worded demand sounded irrational in my head. “What do you mean ‘don’t’? I need to get out of here. Right now.”

  He crouched down and lifted the metal, the heat from his palms grazing my knuckles as he stared into my eyes. “Remember, I’m the one who freed you.” He took the cards from my hand and slid the full deck into his pocket.

  Making his way over to the table, he hesitated long enough to grab the stack of white envelopes from the felt and headed toward the door. “Do you trust me now?” he asked.

  Zeke was my one-way ticket out of the hellhole I’d been trapped in. As much as I wasn’t ready to rely on anyone, one syllable slipped from my lips. “Yes.”

  6

  Freedom. It seemed surreal.

  Zeke noticed I’d frozen in the middle of the room, and he walked back to where I stood. Without speaking, he grabbed me by the hand and tugged me toward the door. “C’mon.”

  There was little time to think about my decision; going with him was an impulse. When I stepped outside, it was as if time stopped; my legs refused to move. Earlier, I remembered looking out the smudged window. The sky was black, but I wasn’t anticipating the rest of the world to follow suit.

  Thinking back, I began piecing it together. When Lester abducted me, he’d put a bag over my head. Vision was absent. The only place where I was granted eyesight was indoors with Jacob. I remembered warm wind, but…

  “Where are we?” I asked, sucking a breath through my teeth. The air was hot and arid against my skin. It was as if I’d been dropped in the middle of a desert. Sirens blared in the distance, becoming louder with each passing second. People were screaming, and I heard women crying. Gunshots peppered the silence, and my heart felt heavy.

  Zeke opened his mouth to reply. Instead of using words, he slumped his shoulders.

  I looked down near my feet. Cinders. The ground was black with dots of gray ash. Scorched. It reminded me of what remained after a forest fire. Char. The mountains in the distance, blackened. Lifeless. Overhead, the sky was a flawless ink-colored blanket. Desolate. The muggy air was thick as my lungs tried to acclimate. Barren.

  No leafy trees.

  No warm sun.

  No vibrant grass.

  No life.

  Zeke looked at me, and the expression behind his eyes was apologetic. “Angel, you’re in Hell.”

  “No.” My brain tried to untangle the sentence as I furrowed my brow, swallowing hard. “How…”

  He stopped and squeezed my hand. “I’ll explain all of it to you later, I promise. But right now, “his eyes flicked up to the road in front of us, “we’ve got to go if you want to survive. And if you want to survive, I need you to trust me.”

  There was a quality woven throughout his voice. A tone? A lilt? Emotion? Maybe it was paired up with the glimmer of purity behind eyes—a flicker of sincerity. Perhaps I was hoping it’d be there, and it was only an illusion. Whatever it was, the recipe left me wanting to trust him. If I were wrong, I knew I’d pay the price. For now? I needed to get as far away from Lester as possible. Nodding, I knew my fate was in the hands of a stranger. There was no turning back.

  Zeke led the way down a stone pathway to a near-empty parking lot. The few cars present were black. Color me surprised. He opened the driver side door of an ebony pickup truck and folded the seat forward, ushering me to get into the back before he hopped up front.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, but my question remained unanswered.

  “Stay down,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road as he pulled away from the apartment complex.

  Too exhausted to argue, I followed his instructions and ducked down in the backseat. A ripple of adrenaline trickled through me once again as I hoped and prayed I’d made the right choice—not etching my own tombstone.

  “Here,” Zeke handed me a cellophane-wrapped sandwich from the front seat along with a bottle. My fingers greeted the soft plastic as liquid sloshed inside; however, I wasn’t anticipating the condensation on the exterior to disappear, the contents suddenly becoming warm.

  “What the…”

  “I hate cold water,” he replied, “so that’s all I get.”

  I swallowed, knowing I disliked warm water, but I was too thirsty to care as I swallowed half of the tepid contents without giving it a second thought. With shaky hands I unwrapped the sandwich, the smell of onions permeating the air. “And you hate onions,” my voice was quiet.

  “You’re getting it now,” he replied, facing forward.

  Once we’d hit what I assumed was near freeway speed, I did my best to relax against the abrasive flooring. My muscles ached from the constant tension, but I kept my mouth shut. At least I wasn’t jammed in the back of a trunk with a gag in my mouth. In comparison, this was first class.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asked. “I know there isn’t much room.”

  “It’s fine,” I replied, my voice full of sadness. “Taken from my home. Kidnapped. Threatened. Tied up. Held hostage. And now I’m in Hell. Standard Saturday night.”

  Zeke sighed. “Look, I’m sorry any of this happened to you.”

  I bit my lip, regretful of my tone. “Sorry, I’m not complaining…just…I don’t know.”

  There was
no reply; however, I wasn’t sure what he could’ve said. No words could put me back home with Cade. I’d have given so much to be wrapped in his arms or to have a drink with Andy while watching a chick flick. At this point? I’d have tolerated a thousand encounters with Rena at Envy. None of it was within the realm of possibility.

  A few minutes later, we slowed. Gravel crunched under the tires and Zeke pulled the keys from the ignition.

  A deep sigh sounded from the front seat, and it spoke more than words.

  The sirens were a distant memory, and I could hear the sound of faint screams and cries coming from the direction of the trees. He opened the door quickly and folded the seat forward. “Come on. Before someone sees you.”

  With my legs willing me to run and bolt in the opposite direction, I fought the urge, following him up the pathway to a small house. The roof? Black. The siding? Black. The grass? Black. All of it was depressing. Glancing at my tattoo, I missed the vivid green grass, the warmth of the sun against my skin, and the blue-tinged sky overhead. The lack of life left part of me feeling hollow and empty inside. I touched the frame surrounding the door, a splinter greeting my index finger—definitely not a dream. The distressed panels had been boarded up with nails and a hammer on more than one occasion.

  I followed him inside as he locked the door behind us. Everything was worn, faded, and dark in color. It reminded me of Lester’s, but cleaner. There were no foul odors, no fast food wrappers, and no stains on the carpet. “So, what exactly is going on?” I crossed my arms.

  Zeke gestured for me to sit.

  I perched myself on the edge of a couch cushion, cautious to remain guarded.

  “Where do I start?” Zeke paced across the room. “Lester. Colton. Alejandro? They’re part of this crew, and they answer to a man named Huxley.”

  I thought back to the conversation between Jacob and Lester when I’d first been kidnapped.

  "Everyone has a price, amigo. Even pussy," Mr. Gruff said. “Besides, if Huxley don’t know she’s here,” he paused, “pocket the profit, and no one knows. Just say she died or somethin’. It’s happened to other ones.”