I wanted to tell her that I loved her too, but the words didn't come quick enough. "I—"
Pop!
I felt my soul shrivel up and die as I watched her body jerk from the force of the bullet Dominic fired into her. Stumbling to the left, her eyes slid closed, blood seeping from her wound as she swayed, and then collapsed, falling to her side on the filthy trap house floor.
There, she took her final breath.
Chapter Three
Ashley
Three Months Later
Just keep breathing.
Heart and soul in shambles, I stared out the car’s windshield, eyes locked on the emptiness before me, the scene eerily reminiscent of the one from months before.
The only difference between now and then was that instead of being parked next to the curb under the dark night sky, in front of a known trap house, Ellington’s Mercedes idled in the middle of a hotel parking lot, the afternoon sun beating down on its black paint from above.
Ninety-four days had passed since that fateful night, the same in which the man I hated like no other murdered the only two good people in my life, stealing them away from me forever.
Without Carmen and Jade, my life had eroded, becoming nothing more than an unending hell.
I couldn’t eat, could hardly sleep, and God knows my every waking moment was filled with the agonizing pain of losing them.
Even after I managed to cry myself to sleep, which seemed to take forever, the torment never stopped. Over and over, I watched my girls die in my nightmares, and though I fought to stop their deaths each time, I always failed.
Just as I had the night they were killed.
It’s all my fault.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
The grief suffocating me briefly abated, allowing unchecked anger to take its place at the sound of Ellington’s cruel voice. Back teeth clenched, I glared over at the sadistic bastard, the sleek Armani suit he wore the picture of both wealth and arrogance.
Like Dominic, I hated him.
With the passion of a thousand blazing suns.
“Nothing, Jeffrey,” I replied, no longer worried about facing who he was or the consequences for speaking his name. “I’m not thinking about anything at all.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know better.”
I did know better.
I just didn’t care anymore.
The night Carmen and Jade died something other than my heart broke. Sometimes I wondered if it was my sanity; I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was.
At seventeen, I’d been through more than most would ever experience and lost more than I could ever admit. Even before my girls’ deaths, a huge piece of my soul had been ripped from me.
One which I’d never get back.
Pissed off at my smart mouth, Ellington clamped a hand down on my left arm and dug his fingertips into my bruised flesh, ripping me from the painful memories beginning to echo through my head. “Ever since Dominic disposed of those other two whores, you’ve developed quite the attitude, my little pet.”
The sick name caused my skin to prickle, the need to teach him a lesson, one which he’d never forget, becoming nearly overwhelming.
“At our next meeting, I’ll need to do something about it”—he smiled, ignoring the rage bleeding from my pores—“before it’s too late.”
His words made me smile because although he didn’t know it yet, there would be no future meetings between him and me.
Not ever again.
He had used me to satisfy his sick and twisted desires for the last time. Satan would serve ice water to every burning resident of Hell before he violently took pleasure from my unwilling body again.
I was done.
Completely and utterly done.
Right hand on the door handle, I conjured the long-forgotten bravery that was buried deep in my belly, mentally preparing myself for what I was about to do.
With escape being my only focus, I hadn’t gotten the chance to pay Dominic back for the horrible things he’d done, but one day, I would get my pound of flesh and force him to pay for every ounce of pain he’d inflicted. Even if it killed me to do so, I would finish the job that Carmen started when she plunged her blade into him, a blade which, unbeknownst to el diablo, I now possessed.
As for Ellington, his day of reckoning had come.
Closing my eyes, I gripped the door handle tight as Carmen’s voice echoed through my head.
This is push meeting shove, Chiquita.
It’s time to fight.
I nodded, determination setting in. “It’s time,” I whispered, hoping that wherever she was, she heard me.
“Who are you talking to?”
Eyes popping open, I jerked free of Ellington’s hold and slipped my left hand between the seat where I sat and the center console. A malicious smile tipped my lips when I touched the familiar switchblade.
Stealing it from Dominic had been easy.
While he was busy getting stitched up by the gambling-addicted doctor he kept on call for emergencies a mere hour after murdering Carmen and Jade, I’d snuck away and hidden it in the tank of the upstairs toilet.
He never even noticed it was missing.
The idiot.
Gripping the knife tight, I looked at Ellington, my rage reaching a boiling point. “Don’t you ever call them whores again.”
His eyes flared. “Excuse me?”
Calmness spread through me. “Their names were Carmen and Jade,” I answered, tightening my hold. “And they were beautiful!”
Giving myself no time to second-guess my actions, I lifted the blade high into the air and then drove it into Ellington’s thigh, slicing through his slacks and puncturing his flesh. He howled in pain and knocked my hand away, but it was too late. The knife was sunk deep, the rusted tip touching bone.
“You little bitch!”
It was wrong, but seeing him wither in pain momentarily calmed the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside me. Grasping onto the relief working its way through my veins, I clutched the blade once more and twisted it—hard—snapping the handle clear off.
Blood pouring from the wound, Ellington screamed once more, and I knew I had to move quickly. In no time at all, his pain-filled bellows would draw the attention of others.
If that happened, I was done for.
“Listen to me, you sick bastard,” I said, inching closer to the door. “From this moment forward, I want you to forget that I ever existed. If you don’t”—I forced a smile—“well, as you once told Dominic, there will be consequences. Lasting ones.”
His eyes filled with unspoken questions.
Ones which I was all too happy to answer.
“Let me be clear,” I snarled. “If you so much as utter my name to the police about this little incident, then I will be forced to make a few confessions of my own. And those confessions? They will destroy you.”
It was the absolute truth.
Ellington knew it too.
Not giving him time to react to my words, I snatched his phone—the same one he used to record all the twisted things he’d done to me—off the console where it laid. “This,” I said, holding it just out of his reach. “Is my insurance policy.”
His face contorted, his expression morphing from pain to rage, and though I felt brave as could be, fear suddenly stirred in my chest.
Knowing that I needed to go—like, right then—I popped open the car door and jumped out. My stiletto-covered feet hit the scorching Georgia asphalt, and like a bat fresh out of Hell, I took off.
Letting my adrenaline drive me, I raced across the parking lot and then up an alley that hugged the side of the hotel. Long and narrow, it led to the back of the new fire station, which sat at the intersection of Sycamore and Pine Street.
Sycamore was my destination.
At the end of the alley, I tossed the broken knife handle into an open storm drain, made a sharp right, and then bolted across the fire station lawn, followed by its small
parking lot. My eyes bulged, and a yelp fell from my lips when I almost careened headfirst into a dark-haired fireman headed toward a black truck, a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder.
Thankfully, he moved fast, quickly stepping out of my way. “What the hell, kid?” he yelled as I passed him. “You alright?”
Ignoring his question, I kept moving.
Arms pumping wildly, I willed my tired legs to move faster. My lungs were screaming, my feet aching, but I didn’t slow down. If anything, I ran harder, pushing my beaten body to its limits.
Reaching the intersection I needed, I sprinted across the busy two-lane road and down the opposite sidewalk. A hundred yards later, I came to a stop in front of a closed, wrought-iron gate, the metal sign attached to it acting as a beacon.
Toluca Battered Women’s Shelter, it read.
It was the third time in as many days that I’d stood outside that gate, reading that same sign, but it was the first time I intended to pass through it. I only hoped that Carmen had been right about the people who worked inside.
If they turned me away, I was dead.
I wasn’t worried about Ellington because although he was a predator, he wasn’t stupid. After stealing his phone and now in possession of the evidence it held, he knew I had the power to sink him into oblivion if he so much as uttered my name to the cops.
But Dominic? He’d kill me.
His obsession with me be damned.
“Please,” I whispered, wrapping my shaking fingers around my wrist. Teeth gnawing on my trembling bottom lip, I rubbed my thumb over my tattoo in slow, comforting strokes. “Please let them help me.”
When no one came, doubt crept in.
Growing more panicked with each passing second, I wanted nothing more than to turn around and run in the opposite direction. Going there had been a mistake. Even if the people were good, Dominic would never let me go. It didn’t matter how hard I ran or how much distance I placed between us.
He’d never give up searching.
I took a step back, ready to take off
Just as I turned, about to dart across the road, the front door of the shelter swung open, and a woman, followed by a man, walked out.
I froze, my feet glued to the sidewalk.
The man was big like Dominic, with inky black hair, tanned skin, and intimidating features.
But it wasn’t him that drew my attention.
It was the woman.
I’d never seen her before, but there was something familiar about her fierce expression, something which reminded me of Carmen.
Overcome with grief at the realization, I stumbled back.
Her icy blue eyes flared in response, and she moved faster, her golden-blonde hair blowing in the wind. “Honey,” she said, her thick southern accent comforting. “Please don’t run. I just want to talk.”
Reaching the gate, she silently wrapped her hands around two of wrought-iron bars and looked me over, taking in every inch of my disheveled state.
I could only imagine what she thought.
The curve-hugging dress I wore was two sizes too small, showcasing my abnormally thin frame, and my worn stilettos were sky-high. Face caked with garish make-up, my dark hair was pulled on top of my head, the locks messy thanks to Ellington’s wandering hands.
I looked every bit the harlot I was.
Disgusted over who I’d become, I crossed my arms, the shame overwhelming.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, I jerked my face up, fully prepared for the woman to sneer in my direction, and then demand I leave.
Thank God that’s not what happened.
Warmth spread through my frigid soul when instead, her hope-filled eyes locked with mine and Carmen’s words, the ones she’d spoken moments before she died ricocheted through my head.
The people who work there are good, she’d said.
You can trust them.
With no other choice but to return to the streets, I held my tattooed-wrist against my thrumming heart and made a decision that would change my life forever.
And that decision? It was to trust the beautiful woman standing before me, her soul calling to my own like a siren’s song.
Turns out, it was the best decision I ever made. Because that woman, her name was Shelby Mason.
And she was my salvation.
Chapter Four
Ashley
Three Weeks Later
I felt sick.
Overwhelmed with dread, I sat in the middle of the shelter’s main office, my stomach twisted in a million knots. Scared of what was to come, I stole a peek at Maddie Davis, the shelter’s manager, who was seated across from me and next to Shelby.
Though a gentle smile played on her full lips, I couldn’t look at her without feeling as though I was a half-second away from breaking down. With her sparkling green eyes, freckle-covered face, and sweet disposition, she was a walking, talking, reminder of Jade.
It killed me.
“You okay?” Her soft voice chipped away at my heart, intensifying the ache flourishing in my chest.
Without speaking a word, I forced a tentative smile and nodded before sliding my trembling hands under my thighs, hiding them from view.
“You sure, sugar?” Shelby asked, her tone filled with concern.
Neither woman looked convinced that I was alright.
And rightfully so.
Anyone with eyes could see that I wasn’t being truthful, and though I loathed lying, I still insisted on acting as if I were coping just fine. It was a stupid thing to do considering I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown, dangerously close to losing what remained of my mind.
That’s if I hadn’t lost it already.
Which, let’s face it, was a distinct possibility.
The rolling chair Maddie sat in squeaked as she leaned forward, placing her elbows on the large oak desk separating us. “If not, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” She nodded toward a silent Shelby. “We both will.”
My throat burned as another lie danced on the tip of my untruthful tongue before slipping free. “I’m sure.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice filled with skepticism. “But if you ever find that changes, then find me, Shelby, or one of the other ladies. It doesn’t matter what the problem is, we’ll do everything we can to help you.”
Of that, I had zero doubt.
The women who worked at the shelter had already gone above and beyond to help me. From donating clothes, both new and old, to rousing me from the dark dreams that tormented me each night, they’d done everything they could to make me feel safe and cared for.
For that, I’d be forever grateful.
Lump in my throat, I nodded once more, not saying a word. Consumed with too many emotions to count, I couldn’t have replied if my life had depended on it.
Still smiling, she picked up a blue pen and leaned back, lifting a sheet of paper from the desk. “Alright,” she said, tucking a strand of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. “The reason Shelby and I asked you to come in here is because we need to talk to you about long-term placement.”
I froze, my lungs seizing.
Placement?
What did that mean?
“Don’t panic, beautiful girl,” Shelby said, reading the terror flitting across my face. “She just means that we need to figure out the safest place for you to live after you leave here.”
Leave?
I had nowhere else to go.
Well, nowhere other than the morgue, which is where I’d end up if Dominic found me.
Anxiety ensued, sending both my heart and mind into a frenzy. “Are you…” My throat felt as though it were closing. Swear to the heavens above, I couldn’t breathe. Could. Not. Breathe! “K-kicking me out?”
Eyes bulging, Shelby jumped up. “Girl, it’ll be a cold day in Hell.” I blinked, my throat continuing to tighten. “Sugar, you have a place here as long as you need it. Don’t care if I’ve gotta make you a pallet in
the hall, so damn be it.” Her unflinching eyes drilled into mine. “You’re not going anywhere until you’re ready to. You hear me?”
A smidge of relief unfurled in me.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Maddie stood and rounded the desk, taking a seat in the chair next to me.
My attention went to her pregnant belly.
Pressure built inside me.
“You just turned seventeen,” she whispered, stating something I already knew. “As a minor, I legally have to take certain steps to ensure your safety.”
The relief I felt seconds before vanished.
“What steps?” I asked, bouncing my legs nervously.
“Well,” she replied, her hands resting on her stomach. “For one, by law, I’m required to call Children’s Protective Services and inform them that you’re here. They’ll want to talk to you and—”
I stood so abruptly my chair skittered backward and slammed into the wall. “I am not letting CPS send me back to Kentucky,” I snapped, my tone harsher than I intended.
“Is that where you ran away from?” Maddie asked.
“I didn’t run away from anywhere,” I replied, confessing one of my awful truths. “I was kicked out and forced onto the streets.”
“By who?”
I didn’t hesitate. “By my mother.”
Mother.
Yeah, right.
The woman who birthed me had been anything but. A dog would have cared for me better than she had. At least they had maternal instincts, something Wanda Ward severely lacked.
Eyes full of sympathy, Maddie looked from me to Shelby, then back to me again. “Your mother kicked you out?”
“Yes.”
Frustrated by the tears welling in my eyes, I turned, giving both women my back. They’d seen me cry enough since my arrival. They didn’t need to see me break down again.
Wanting to comfort me, Maddie touched my arm. I flinched; the feel of her skin on mine was nearly intolerable. “Tell us about her,” she whispered, jerking her hand back. “I know it’s probably a hard subject to broach, but the more we know, the better we know how to help.”
Every Kiss You Steal: A Redeeming Love Novel (Book 7) Page 3
