The edge of life: Official cover - coming soon

by Rachael Tonks

  The Edge of Life Rachael Tonks 2017

  Editor: Jenny Sims at Editing 4 Indies

  Cover Design: Shannon Dobson at Star Graphics and Creations

  Proofreaders: Michelle Mckenzie & Nikki Ash

  Interior Formatting: That Formatting Lady

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  More from Rachael Tonks

  Kailee

  “Please, Dad, please don’t leave me here, alone,” I cry, hoping he will listen to my pleas. I don’t understand what is happening; how Dad could ever allow this to happen to us. We are good people. Things like this don’t happen to people like us, or at least, I thought they didn’t.

  “Why does it have to be this way?” I ask, trying to gain some clarity.

  “I’m sorry, Kailee; really, I am,” he replies, his voice quiet and shaky. I turn to him, looking at the shadow of the man I’ve loved and admired for so long. He’s been my rock; the only person who could truly understand how I felt since my mom died just over a year ago.

  “But this ain’t right, Dad. Taking off, going on the run, and leaving me… here.” My eyes scan the dark area surrounding us. My dad’s parked his car just a few feet away from a row of trailers. He’s brought me to a goddamn trailer park.

  “You know I have no other choice. I’m in trouble, big trouble, and I need to get away. It’s not safe for you to be at our apartment, and I promise one thing…”

  “What’s that?” I quickly reply, a little harsher than I intend.

  “That it won’t be forever. Just until I can get my shit together.”

  I let out a huge breath, which seems to be the catalyst for my tears. They trickle down my cheeks, one by one, and I can no longer hold back the pain I feel deep inside my chest. My dad’s hand rests against my own, but I quickly retract it.

  “I don’t want to be without you, Dad. You’re the only family I have,” I cry out; the painful memories of losing my mom are still fresh in my mind. And now, I have to lose Dad, too. I know he says he will return, but I haven’t spent a day without him since Mom passed.

  “Take me with you.”

  “You know I can’t, Kailee. It’s not safe for you to be around me at the moment. You’ll be safe here with Eric.”

  “But…” I try to protest further, only to be cut off by the roar of my dad’s voice.

  “This isn’t easy for me either, you know. Get your suitcases from the trunk, Kailee,” he snaps, releasing his seat belt and climbing out of our car. I sniffle back my onslaught of tears. My whole body is shaking, but I’m not sure if it’s my overwrought emotions or the chill of the night air. I turn, making my way out of the car.

  I’m filled with utter dread as I follow Dad. The cool California night air causes me to pull my coat together in an attempt to keep warm. It’s unusually cold for February, and I pull my hands into my sleeves, trying to warm my cold, aching fingers. We walk toward the cream colored trailer. I look up at the windows, each one dressed with some sort of material that seems to be ripped and has an abundance of holes. Shuddering, I have no choice but to follow him as he makes his way closer. Pulling my arms tighter across my chest, I attempt to insulate myself.

  “Remember. You’re a guest at Eric’s, so be nice, and do as he says.”

  I let out an audible tut in response. “I’m seventeen, not seven.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “And a feisty redhead at that. I’ve seen your temper, Kailee. So be nice.”

  “Dad,” I whisper, “it’s a trailer park, not the Hilton.”

  His nostrils flare, and I can see the annoyance on his face as his features contort. “It’s a trailer park, not the streets. Think yourself lucky you have somewhere to go.”

  “But this is not my home. We had a nice home, a home I was happy in. You just had to go and mess it up, didn’t you?” I inwardly cringe at the honest words that slip from my mouth.

  His eyes widen in shock, and his mouth hangs open a little. Before I can apologize for my outburst, I watch, as if in slow motion, as my dad lifts his hand above his head. The next thing I know, I’m holding my face, and the pain of him striking me stings like a bitch. I whimper as he grabs my jacket, screaming in my face.

  “Get away from me,” I cry. I’m beyond shocked and a little horrified. My dad has never hit me. Ever. How could he do this to me?

  The next voice I hear is not my father’s. No, it is much more menacing as I lift my head a little, trying to look through the loose strands of hair covering my face.

  “What the fuck is all this commotion?” yells the huge guy as he emerges from the trailer. I step away from my dad as his hands release their hold on me. The guy rubs his worn, tattoo covered knuckles over his dark eyes. Moving his clenched fists away from his eyes, he tries to adjust to us as we stand frozen to the spot. His eyes land on me and widen at the realization I’m holding my face, tears still streaming. Like gasoline poured onto the fire, he explodes in a rage and charges at my father. Rushing toward him at full force, he takes him down to the ground effortlessly. The crazed man’s fists grab tightly to the front of my father’s jacket as he holds him in place. Dad cowers; his arm covers his head as he turns away from the man holding him down against the ground.

  “What the fuck did you do to her?” he growls.

  “Get off him, get off my dad,” I scream. Rushing over to the thug, I pull at his t-shirt and try to get him to release his hold.

  “This is your father?” he asks with a hiss.

  I nod weakly. Before I can say anything, I’m interrupted by another unfamiliar voice.

  “Let him go,” the voice demands. My head spins as I look at the guy, and I wonder what damage the slap across the face did to me. A
m I seeing double? I blink down hard, looking back and forth between him and the guy on the floor, doubting what my eyes are telling me to believe. They can’t be? Can they?

  I study them for a second longer. They are identical. Their styles are a little different, but it’s blatantly obvious they are twins. Both are tall with broad shoulders and muscles I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before unless you count wrestling on TV. Their shaggy brown hair is neither long nor short, and their piercing green eyes are exactly alike. The second guy bustles over to us, resting his hand on the one who has a hold of my dad.

  “Let it go, Ryder,” he says in a calm, authoritative voice.

  “Fuck you, Jax,” he yells over his shoulder. “You can’t tell me what to fucking do.”

  The brother we now know as Jax rolls his eyes dramatically.

  “This fucking loser has laid his hands on this young girl. I fucking hate men who think it’s okay to hit little girls,” snarls Ryder.

  “What happens between me and my daughter is none of your goddamn business,” my dad spits back, “so get your fucking hands off me.”

  “Come on, bro.” Jax tries to reason, pulling on his shoulder again. Ryder shrugs him off but stands to his feet, dragging my father with him. Lifting him from the ground, I watch as every muscle in his forearm flexes, exposing a mass of veins. I swallow down hard at the sight of this huge man holding my father.

  Pulling my father close to his face, Ryder snarls, “I don’t know what fucking hole you came out of, or why on earth you think that makes it okay, but it doesn’t. If I ever see you lay a finger on her again, I will tear you limb from fucking limb. Got that?” He speaks through his teeth, and his words come out with a hiss. I shudder at the harshness of the threat from this stranger who seems to appear to want to protect me.

  “That’s enough,” roars Jax. “Put him down.”

  “I’ll put him down, all right,” snarls Ryder. He thrusts out his arms, sending Dad flying into the trailer behind us. Yelping as he crashes against the trailer, I run over to comfort my father. A thousand thoughts about how horrendous it’s going to be here buzz through my mind.

  “Dad, are you okay?” I ask, concerned he might be hurt. He rubs the back of his head, trying to stretch out his battered body.

  “Sure,” he replies with a groan. I turn to see the brothers exchanging words in a heated whisper before Ryder stomps inside the neighboring trailer, slamming the door behind him and letting out an audible growl. I look back at my dad and hook my hand under his arm to help him from the ground. Pulling him up, he sucks in a deep breath as though in pain.

  “What’s wrong? Are you really hurt?”

  “I’m okay,” he says with a shallow breath. Checking over my shoulder, I notice Jax standing behind me. He takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between us.

  “I’m sorry about my brother.” He sighs, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. His eyes drift downward before he stops and focuses on the trailer. “Wait, are you here to see Eric?” he asks with a flick of his head.

  “We are,” my dad blurts out, resting an arm across his torso. I know deep down I should be pissed at how my dad reacted to me, slapping me across the face, but all I can think about is whether he’s hurt.

  “I have a key to his trailer. He’s probably out for the count. Sleeps like the dead.” Jax laughs, taking a few steps forward and climbing up the steps to the door of the trailer. He digs into his pocket, retrieving a set of keys. Pushing one into the lock, he manages to open the door and signals for us to follow. Dad slowly walks up the few steps, making his way inside the trailer. I follow closely behind him, stopping just in front of Jax who is holding the door open.

  “I’m Kailee, by the way,” I say, offering my hand to him, and he grins a little.

  “Nice to meet you, Kailee,” he says, taking my hand and pulling it to his mouth. I freeze as he drops his head forward and lightly kisses the back of my hand. I’m a little taken aback and a little excited by the contact all at the same time. Feeling heat rush to my cheeks, I pull my hand from his, letting my red hair fall forward to cover my obvious embarrassment.

  “After you,” he urges, guiding me inside the dull lit trailer. Stepping forward, I blink repeatedly to clear the haze from my eyes. I slowly look around, trying to take in my new surroundings, knowing this is to be home, even if it’s only temporarily. Jax approaches and rests his hand on the low of my back for a second. I can’t help but jump a little at the contact.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” He smiles sweetly before flicking the light switch, and the small round dome lights flicker on just above my head. “Better?” He nods.

  “Where’s Dad?” I ask nervously, my eyes darting around the small space in search of him. The main area is relatively spacious; well, for a trailer, at least. The kitchen has just enough space for a table, and it’s surprisingly much nicer than I had expected. But it still isn’t home. My home.

  “Here, take a seat,” Jax instructs, pulling out one of the chairs from underneath the table. “So Eric tells me you’re staying here a while, right?”

  “You seem to know more than I do,” I retort with a lift of my brow.

  “I guess this has come as a surprise to you,” he replies, walking toward the sink and running the water. He pushes his hand forward, passing me a wet towel. “Here, hold this against your cheek; it will take away the redness from the contact.”

  I can’t help but smile back at Jax as I take the towel and press it against my cheek. I had momentarily forgotten about it, but the feel of the cool towel against my face gives me relief. I mouth a silent, “Thank you,” to him and watch as he opens the refrigerator, pulling out two cans of soda.

  “Take this,” he says handing me the can. Grabbing the can, I pop it open and gulp down the refreshing, cool drink.

  “Always make yourself at home here then?” I ask; part of me wonders what the deal is and how he managed to have a key to a trailer that clearly isn’t his. My mouth moves as I ask the question, but my eyes are fixed on his impressive physique. There is no denying that he’s well built, and his tattoos intrigue me. I look intently, trying to make out the ones I can see on his arms. I can just about make out the Mandela sleeve he has on show, and I tilt my head to try to make out the one that appears to creep up his neck.

  “Like them?” he teases, snapping me from my ogling. His face appears in my line of sight.

  “Oh, uh, sorry. I was just admiring your ink,” I stutter, nervously breaking the stare I had on his remarkable tattoos. “I wonder where Dad went?” I ask again, anxiously wondering what is taking so long.

  “He’ll be talking over shit with Eric. I wouldn’t worry.” He shrugs it off, pulling out the chair opposite me and sliding himself down.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t, would you? If you’d been dumped at some trailer park and scared to death by a man you hardly know, yeah, no real need to be frightened, right?” I snap at him; not intentionally but from pure frustration of this whole shitty situation.

  He laughs a deep, humming laugh, his eyes sparkling as he looks directly at me.

  “You have fire, girl. I like that.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and his head against his hand. “I think we’re going to be good friends, Kailee.”

  “I hope I’m not here long enough to make friends,” I say, a little tongue in cheek. A wolfish grin spreads on Jax’s face; the only part of him which appears to be free from tattoos.

  “What?” he asks, his eyes wide and waiting for an answer. “You’re doing that staring thing again,” he says, pointing his index finger at me.

  I let my head drop, and a small chuckle escapes me. “I was just wondering whether your face was the only part of you not covered in tattoos,” I mumble timidly under his intensive gaze.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says with a wink. Instant heat rises to my cheeks, and I cover my face with my hands. Stupid, I know.

  “Shit!” I chuckle. “Not exactly what
I meant,” I say, peering through my fingers to the rugged guy across from me. He is a good-looking guy; there’s no denying that. He has that look that makes me want to stare, unknowingly. A strong arched brow and thick lashes frame his piercing green eyes. His heavy, dark hair complements the strong structure of his well-sculptured face.

  “Kailee.” My father calls for me, breaking me from my mild embarrassment. Removing my hands from my face, I bend my head to look past Jax, whose face is still twisted into a rueful smirk. I walk toward the silhouette of my father as he stands at the door I can only imagine is Eric’s bedroom. He waves for me to come closer. As soon as I’m beside him, he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

  “Here she is, my beautiful daughter.”

  I cringe at his description. I’m beautiful, yet he thought it was okay to lash out at me. My eyes fall on the guy sitting on the edge of the bed. He fiddles with his shirt, trying to fasten the buttons.

  “Oh, she’s a beauty all right,” he mumbles, his gaze falling to my chest. I watch as his brows lift, his eyes widening marginally. I instantly pull away from my father, crossing my arms over my chest as bile rises in my throat. Dread fills me, and I can’t help but feel weirded out and very wary of Eric. I rack my brain, trying to work out if I have any memories of this guy my dad professes is an old friend. But nothing comes. No recollection, no distant memory. Eric gets up from the bed, taking the few steps toward me. My eyes are glued to him, watching his every move. The balding, middle-aged man in front of me just smiles, that smarmy kind of smug smile.

  “I’m sorry, but as much as I try to remember, I don’t know who you are,” I say very matter-of-factly, tapping my index finger against my lip.

  “Well, that’s because the last time I saw you, you were just a little girl. Me and your father go way back,” he drones, and I narrow my eyes, looking back and forth between them.

  “Really?” I say with a tone of disbelief.

  “Really,” he says quickly as if to dismiss me. “Let me show you the spare room,” he offers, holding out his hand. “It’s yours for as long as you want it.”