Saint (Mercy Book 2)

by JB Salsbury

  “You’re safe with me.” I nod to the boy, who hooks his arms around mine again. “With Dom. We’re all the same. We have to stay together and help each other.”

  “Papa said I can’t leave, that the sun—”

  “Which is why we must leave now, while it’s dark.”

  The voices and stomping get louder, and a door slams down at the end of the hallway.

  Milo leans in and whispers, “If she doesn’t get the fuck up, I’m throwing her over my shoulder. They’re gonna find a body and then we’re all fucked.”

  I nod and scoop the girl from the bed. “I’m sorry. We have to go.”

  The little girl squirms for a second but quickly gives up and slumps in my arms. Philomena grabs the angel’s slippers and Milo stays behind me to keep from scaring the kids while he palms his weapon.

  Philomena, Milo, and I take a collective breath as if we’re preparing for a deep dive beneath water.

  Milo leads the way and slowly opens the door, peering outside. He turns back to Philomena. “We don’t have time to get more. We have to run. Now.”

  The little angel’s arms wrap tighter around me, stealing my breath, and I’m just grateful she’s not screaming for help. “Milo—”

  “I’m sorry, but if we don’t get out now, we’ll all . . .” He doesn’t say the word in front of the kids, but he doesn’t have to. I can read it in his eyes. “If we leave now, we’ll make it out so we can come back.”

  He means at least if we leave now, we’ll make it out alive so we can lead the authorities back to this place. If we stay, no one will make it and the place will continue to torture and abuse children.

  “Shit!” He ducks back in. “There are men outside. They’re hitting every door. There’s no way we’ll get past them unless . . .” He jerks his chin to Philomena. “Is there another way out?”

  “No, there’s only the hallway.”

  “And the bookshelf,” the little angel says innocently, pointing at a shelf similar to the one in my old room. “That’s how I leave when Papa takes me.”

  The voices get louder and doors slam.

  “The device is in my pocket.”

  Milo rips the small black device from my sweatshirt. “Ay dios, I hope this works.”

  We scurry as a unit to the bookcase, and Milo presses the button but nothing happens.

  “Sigan buscando! Tiene que estar escondido aquí en alguna parte!”

  “They’re not giving up.” Milo presses the buttons again. “They’re looking for me.”

  I squeeze the kids closer to me and feel Philomena curl up to my back while Milo presses the series of three buttons in random order. Time slows, and I realize this could very well be my last moment. That all of us will die and possibly in the most horrific ways.

  I close my eyes. “Mother Merciful, please, release us from this prison.”

  “Mother merciful, please . . .” Dom’s voice whispers the same prayer.

  “Help us to be safe, oh Mother of deliverance,” little angel’s sing-song voice joins in.

  Even Philomena joins the prayer.

  A fist pounds the door. “Abierto!” The sound of keys jiggling in the locks.

  Milo whirls around and points his gun. “I only locked two of the four.” His thumb continues to hit buttons, but his eyes and gun stay aimed at the door. “Get down, lie on the floor—”

  The bookshelf clicks and glides open. I don’t hesitate but launch my body forward, taking the kids into the dark passageway though I have no idea where it leads. A gun fires, and I squeeze the kids tighter to me and pray that Milo makes it out alive.

  Milo

  I FIRED TWO shots toward the door as it swung open but didn’t hang around to see who got hit. I also didn’t hang out long enough to see who was after us. I just needed them both to stop and drop while I got myself behind the bookcase door and hit the right buttons to get it to close. As the latch clicks into place, the voices of the desgraciados who are after us sound just beyond the door.

  My blood roars in my ears. We’re not safe yet.

  I pocket the device and whirl around to chase Mercy, Philomena, and the kids. We have no idea what we’re going to stumble upon when we reach the end of this tunnel. The space is dark except for a few flickering bulbs that give light every ten feet or so. The tunnel is narrow enough that I can run my hands along both of its walls. The concrete is warm. We must be close to the surface or it would be colder down here.

  There has to be something above these subterranean levels where Mercy and the kids have been kept. Possibly a whorehouse like the woman from the restaurant said. It would be the perfect cover-up for a place like this.

  “Milo,” Mercy whispers as I finally get close enough to hear. She’s huddled with the kids, and Philomena paces in front of another secret door. “We need you to open it.”

  I hand the device to Mercy, and she goes to work pushing the three buttons in a series of patterns. I keep my face toward the way we came. If those guys figure out a way to get through that door, they’ll be down here in seconds and we’re all sitting ducks.

  “I got it!” Mercy brings the kids back to her side and moves to head through the door.

  “Let me go first. We have no idea what we’re walking in on.”

  I lean slowly into the room that looks similar to the other rooms we’ve been in. However, rather than a bed and dresser, this room has a desk and file cabinets.

  “It’s an office.” I flag them all into the room. “Mercy, try to get that thing shut. The more obstacles we put between us and them, the better.”

  She must remember the series of buttons that opened it, because after a couple tries, the door closes to become nearly invisible against the wall.

  I can’t begin to imagine the information that lies locked in those filing cabinets or the ton of illegal shit stored on that computer, and we don’t have time to find out. The children cling to each other as Mercy searches through the desk.

  “No time for that,” I say, holding my hand out for her to join me at the door. I need her close so I can protect her.

  “Hold on, there’s got to be something . . .” Her hooded head disappears beneath the desk, and she comes back up with a gun. She stares at it and flips it over in her hand, meanwhile pointing it all over the room.

  I lift a palm. “Mercy, stop.”

  Her eyes jerk to mine.

  “Give it to me.”

  “I can protect us—”

  I’m already shaking my head, and she brings it to me and slaps it in my grasp. “I don’t need you accidently killing one of us.”

  She glares. God, how I’ve missed her spark and subtle defiance.

  “Over here!” Philomena is halfway out the door. “Hurry. I think I know where it leads.”

  I herd Mercy and the kids toward the door and squeeze in front of them to make sure the exit is clear. “Okay, go.”

  Philomena runs down a hallway, this one different than the ones before. There’s tile on the floor and a warm gray paint on walls that aren’t just poured concrete but have drywall and decorative lights.

  Out of the underground and into the real life of the one they called Papa.

  Two flights of steps up to a door that is, again, locked. I search for surveillance cameras but find none. It would seem that whatever this dickbag was up to in this place, he didn’t want it recorded.

  I rear back, leveraging all of my weight into the flat of my foot, and kick the door. The sound of wood splintering gives me hope, and I kick again. Again. Sweat beads on my brow, and urgency bleeds into my veins. Again. A snap of cracking wood echoes around us. I kick again, and the thing shoots open in a rain of dust and slivers of wood.

  Even though it’s dark, I know we’ve made it outside as a warm wave of desert air slaps me in the face and wakes me up.

  “Run.” I take off at a slow jog to keep pace with the children as we race into the night. The only lights are those that glow around the multi-leveled house, and when I t
urn back to see what we’re running from, I’m happy to see no one is chasing us.

  “Where are we going?” the little boy who Mercy nicknamed Dom says as he stumbles over rocks and small plants. “My feet, I can’t do it.”

  The little angel does the same, slowing down and stepping cautiously with her slippers. We’ll never make it out of here at this rate.

  “We need to get as far away as we can as quickly as possible.” I squat and point at my back. “Hop on.”

  “I . . .” Dom shakes his head.

  Mercy brings him to me and explains how to climb on my back and hold on to my shoulders. She squats and motions for the little angel to climb on her back.

  “Mercy—”

  “I got her.” Her arms lock around the young girl clinging to Mercy’s shoulders like a monkey. Mercy stands and takes off at a jog, not nearly as fast as she was moving before she decided to take the girl, but fueled by adrenaline and the need to survive, she manages.

  “Philomena, do you know where we are?”

  She squints and searches the surrounding area. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been outside in years.”

  “It’s all right, we just need to find some shelter.” I stare around the space and see nothing but black night over a flat desert landscape.

  Once the sun comes up, we’ll all be sitting targets. Without my phone or a car, there’s no way to get help, and even if I could call someone, who would I call? After skipping out on tonight’s pickup, I’m wanted by Esteban’s crew.

  I only hope we didn’t escape death only to die out here in the middle of nowhere, taken over by the elements.

  Milo

  “I’M SCARED,” THE little angel whines on Mercy’s back as her pace slows from exhaustion.

  I hike Dom up a little higher, my back finally numb after the hours of walking. We’ve taken periodic breaks, but I don’t let anyone sit for too long. “Mercy, let me take her.”

  “I’ll take her.” Philomena staggers over to relieve Mercy as she’s been doing every few minutes, but her body is weaker and she doesn’t get very far.

  “I’ve got her.” Mercy grunts. “We just need to keep moving.” Her slippers are torn and stained with something that could well be blood. Whether it’s hers or her captor’s, I’m not sure.

  “Let’s take a break.” The sky is a deep purple, the sun brightening the east, which would give me a good idea of what direction to take if I had any clue where we are to begin with.

  “Will we be able to get back there?” Mercy moves past me, the muscles in her slender arms visibly cramping from bearing the load of the young girl. “Are you keeping track so we’ll know how to get back?”

  I frown at the panic in her voice. “Right now our priority is us—”

  “No!” She whirls around to face me. “No, Milo. I will never rest again until I know that every human soul in that hell has been saved! I won’t—” Her voice breaks on a sob. “I can’t move on with my life knowing we left some behind.”

  The little angel on Mercy’s back places her tiny hands on Mercy’s cheeks and says, “Shhh, I’ll take it away.”

  I shake my head, and Mercy’s body crumbles. She manages to set the girl down before doubling over and dissolving into sobs.

  “Hang out here, buddy.” I set Dom down and my shoulders scream with cramps, but I push that aside and scoop Mercy into my arms.

  As I cradle her to my chest, she sobs into my shirt. Her body trembles with exhaustion, and I curse not having a better plan, having a car, having somewhere I could put her to keep her safe and get her the hell away from all this.

  There’s a small clearing nearby, tucked behind a cluster of Saguaro cacti, away from the kids who I know she wants to appear strong for, but right now, she needs a safe place to break down. I take her into the clearing and set her in my lap, and she fists my shirt as she’s racked with soul-crushing sobs. I rub her back, her shoulders, hoping to ease some of the tension in her muscles as I let her cry it out. Let her cry for the people who were hurt under the same roof she lived under, let her cry for the lies she’d been told and forced to believe, for the lives she had to leave behind, for the fear of the unknown. For the life she took with her own hand.

  “You’ve been so strong, mi alma, so fucking strong. You gotta let it out, everyone has a breaking point.”

  Time passes as she dissolves in my arms. I watch the sky continue to brighten. Fuck it, if this is it, if this is how we end, at least I’ll die with the woman I love more than my own life in my arms. Which is more than I could’ve said twenty-four hours ago. She calms and eventually goes quiet. She’s probably sleeping and we don’t have a minute to spare, but I allow her time to dream, to escape. Soon enough she’ll have to wake up and face this all over again.

  “I never should’ve brought you here.” I whisper into the desert air hoping Mercy can hear me even in her sleep. “I was desperate when I took you from LA. I went with what I thought was the easiest, what I thought was a sure thing. I didn’t know we’d end up here, stranded in the desert, responsible for the lives of three other people. Fuck . . .” I blow out a harsh breath, feeling my own armor crack. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

  “We keep moving.” Her voice is raw from crying and sleep and she shifts in my arms. “We don’t give up because we have too much to lose.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “I love you so much.”

  “I’m sorry I left. I never should’ve—”

  “Shh, no. I know why you did. You felt locked up. I get it now. You told me, but I was so blinded by the need to keep you safe I didn’t listen.”

  “I never should’ve left. If we’d worked together, we could’ve found them another way.”

  “Maybe. How did you end up back here? He was looking for you?”

  She pushes up to sitting slowly, stiff and probably sore. “Those men, they took me and—”

  “I’ll fucking kill them, I swear to God—”

  She falls silent for a few seconds before pulling out of my arms. “I’ll save that story for another day.”

  I reach for her. “Mercy, I’m sorry.”

  She doesn’t seem upset. “For now . . .” She gets to her feet, her long white dress yellowed and stained from dust and sweat. “We have to keep moving.”

  She’s right. We’ll tackle one nightmare at a time, and this one we’re in has an expiration date directly related to the sunrise.

  My entire body hurts as I get to my feet. I stretch my arms overhead when a glimmer in the distance catches my eye. I don’t bother asking Mercy if she sees it. I know with her weak vision, she can’t.

  “We need to head that way,” I say.

  She looks between me and the unseen flicker of hope on the horizon. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s something out there. A car, maybe an abandoned house. Either way, it’s our best hope to get you and the kids out of the sun.”

  We hold hands and head back to Philomena and the kids, who are slumped together, sound asleep. I hate to wake them, but soon the entire desert will be cast in sunlight, and we have two children who believe the sun’s rays will destroy them.

  Mercy

  WE’VE BEEN WALKING for what feels like hours and I still don’t see it, but I know we must be getting closer as Milo picks up his pace. I cover more ground if I keep my eyes on the desert floor to keep from tripping over prickly bushes and rocks, and with the little angel on my back, I fall behind.

  “Do you remember when you came to live with Papa?” she asks me, her voice soft and quiet so close to my ear.

  I’ve given her Milo’s sweatshirt to protect her skin, and although Dom doesn’t seem nearly as nervous about the sun, Milo insisted he wear his long-sleeved shirt. Something tells me Dom was used in different ways, not held high and treated like royalty but made to feel like a slave, a reject from the holy kingdom.

  My skin stings, and my sweat cools my skin just enough to make it miserable but not torturou
s. “No.”

  She sighs. “Me either.”

  I remember what Laura told me when I first came to Los Angeles. “It doesn’t have to matter where you came from.” I grunt when a sharp bur stabs through my slipper, but I keep on moving. “You get to decide what matters or not.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know,” I say, out of breath as I stagger on. “Don’t worry, you will.”

  She squeezes me tighter. “I’m scared.”

  “So am I.”

  We both fall silent as I follow Philomena who is following Milo.

  My legs grow heavier and I slow, about to ask for a break, when I hear Milo yell, “It’s a house!”

  I look up in time to see him running toward a small structure that stands out like brown block in the middle of the barren land.

  Philomena sidles up next to me. “How do we know we can trust who lives there?”

  “We don’t, but what choice do we have?”

  She takes little Angel from me, and with renewed strength, we quicken our pace to the house. I try to stay focused on the metal roof as the scenery before me fades. Philomena’s form gets smaller and smaller, and darkness seeps into my vision.

  “Hey . . . wait . . .” The voice coming from my lips doesn’t sound like my own. The volume is too low, the words garbled.

  I lift my chin to try to focus on the view ahead, to make it still and clear, but the momentum is too much, and suddenly I’m on my back, staring at a perfectly blue sky.

  The ache in my body fades.

  A shiver skates down my spine, and I’m grateful for the ice that seems to form in my veins from out of nowhere. Goosebumps scatter over my skin.

  I’m still thirsty and I want to keep my eyes open to stare at the sky, but I’m tired and my eyelids fight against me.

  So this is what it feels like to die.

  MY THIGH MUSCLES ache, so much so that I try to push away whatever is sitting on them, but I wince as pain shoots down both my arms. My teeth chatter and my skin pricks.

  I remember being strapped down. I know where I am.

  “Laura?” I swallow through a rough, dry throat. “Are you here?” My voice is so weak I can’t even hear myself.