“Adie?” a voice asked, trying to get her attention.
She didn’t move, afraid of what she might do with the blade in her hand. Already covered in blood, it refused to reflect the sunlight coming through the window. Adelaide didn’t know how the blood had gotten there. She hadn’t moved from this spot in hours.
“Adie, what have you done?” A man circled in front of her, his eyes full of concern. “Where did that blood come from?”
His words didn’t make sense and she didn’t know him. Her heartbeat sped and a sweat broke out over her skin. Who was this person? Was he here to hurt her? She couldn’t focus on one thought more than a second before her mind jumped to another, but her monster didn’t have anything to say.
The first time in years.
Adelaide kept still as the grave in hopes this man would go away. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Yes, I do. That’s what I need. That’s exactly what I need. Her hand moved slightly, the tip of the blade cutting across her thigh, slowly bringing her back to reality with every drop of blood. She didn’t need to kill him, just hurt him.
“Adie? What are you doing?”
The knife inched up further, the tip pointing directly into his chest. She only had to use her remaining strength and anxiety for the twitches running through her muscles to disappear.
“Adie!”
Her brother stood before her. Taigen’s dark hair was shorter than she remembered, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him. At six feet four, he’d developed a muscular form under olive-toned skin. They had the same nose, the same angular chin and their father’s ears. His electric blue eyes stared back at her in fear and, realizing he’d been standing there all along, Adelaide flinched in surprise.
“No more,” he said, reaching for her wrist. “Give me the knife.” His voice soothed her dark side, attempted to calm her as he always did, but even the link between twins couldn’t comfort her now.
She backed away from him slowly, holding the knife to defend herself. Her fingers twitched around the blade nervously as her eyes darted from left to right. She focused on only one thing, but Adelaide didn’t want to hurt her brother. There had to be a way out of this.
Faster than she thought possible, Taigen lunged for her, trying to wrestle the knife from her hands. She turned, slamming the back of her head against his face. The bones in his nose cracked and she elbowed him in the ribs when his hands darted upward. Once his hold on her loosened, she turned, swinging her foot into the side of his neck. Better to disable him than kill him.
He hit the floor. “Christian!”
Adelaide gripped the knife harder, thinking more clearly now than she had in the last ten years. Christian would stop her. He’d dose her. He’d make it worse.
In that instant, she knew she had to escape. Turning on her heel, she bolted for the single window in her room. The impact would leave more scars, but she’d be free.
Behind her, the bedroom door slammed open, but she didn’t stop.
“Adie!”
Rough hands wrapped around her ankles, pulling her to the floor. She hit the hardwood floor hard, causing the knife to slide from her fingers. Making his way up to her wrists, someone crawled on top of her, pinning her facedown. She kicked, tried to move her hands, and silently screamed at the top of her lungs, but nothing helped. Nothing worked.
A few seconds passed before Adelaide realized Taigen held her down, whispering into her ear from behind.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’ll be okay.” Flipping her over onto her back, he held his weight against her.
She made eye contact with him and tried to explain. She just wanted out, begging for her life wordlessly. Why wouldn’t he just let her go? Why did he make her suffer? They were siblings, twins, the closest brother and sister could get, yet Taigen restrained her.
His grip loosened, but the pressure on the rest of her body sent a jolt of agonizing pain down her legs. “I know,” he said. “But I have to do this. It’s for your own good.”
An injection.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as Christian went to the nightstand and removed the little black box. He came back to kneel beside her, his face expressionless.
Adelaide shook her head over and over, tears springing to her eyes. She didn’t want it. She wanted to keep her body. She wanted to keep her mind and knew with the needle she’d lose it all again. She’d lose the clarity she needed in order to escape, but the monster would be behind the bars she’d constructed.
Someday you’ll thank me for keeping you sane. Its eyes darted toward Christian and the items he held. But not today.
Christian removed two needles from the box, loading one with the liquid that would destroy her delusion for no more than two hours and placing the other in his suit jacket pocket. He moved closer.
Adelaide swallowed back her tears. She hated the injections, but both Christian and Taigen had the upper hand. They wouldn’t release her until she calmed down, and she pushed thoughts of a getaway to the back of her mind.
The needle moved closer, the tip biting against the inside of her elbow.
“Stop,” a voice interrupted.
“What for?”
“I can’t.” Taigen’s eyes grew distant, but locked on her a moment later. His grip loosened slightly, giving her enough room to escape if she wanted. “I can’t do this to her anymore.”
Neither Taigen nor Christian seemed to notice as her hand slipped inside Christian’s jacket. Wrapping her hands around the second syringe, she quickly tucked it into the back waistband of her pajama shorts without hesitation. There was only one ending to this episode, but Adelaide wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“Then move.” Christian didn’t miss a beat, shoving the needle into the crook of her scarred arm as she tried to claw her way out from underneath them.
The bite stung, bringing the tears back to her eyes. Dragging herself across the floor on her stomach, she gripped the floorboards as hard as she could, desperate to get to the window, but her energy vanished, exhaustion and the sedative taking over.
A pair of expensive loafers stepped in front of her as her head fell against the floor. Adelaide stared at them, counting the stitches in one side of a right shoe.
“It’s okay, Adie,” Christian said. “We know you didn’t mean it.”
A hand wiped at the tears running down her face and traced her bottom lip with a thumb. She didn’t have to look up to know Christian’s touch and tried to move again.
You’re going to miss me when you’re all alone, the monster said, lowering itself down on all fours to get a better look at her, a smile on its clever face. It evaporated back into Adelaide’s mind.
Hands gripped her biceps from each side, hoisting Adelaide to her feet.
They didn’t seem to understand she’d meant every action, every movement, every plea for her life. Only the clear liquid she’d started stashing two weeks ago would save her now. With it, the whole world would be hers. She only had to obtain and hide enough to survive on her own.
She shook her head, breathing hard as she tried to turn away from the mirror hanging beside the window. With her clothes in pieces, her skin covered in blood from head to toe and her delusion missing, this life had nothing left to offer. Adelaide turned to Christian, betrayal flooding her mind. How could he do this to her? How could he ignore the insanity lurking in her expression? She took another look at the mirror when he didn’t answer, sure the reflection staring back wasn’t really her. Disorientation. She’d been through worse, but had never enjoyed the side effects of Christian’s elixir.
She just had to get a grip on reality.
Chapter Three
The nightmare woke Marcus Grant once again, just as it did every night. He sat up, letting sweat roll down his neck and chest. He couldn’t breathe, the air coming in gasps and pants. It didn’t matter how many times the dream assaulted him. The images felt real every time. He turned over.
&n
bsp; A woman whose name he didn’t want to know lay beside him, sound asleep, her dark curly hair folding around her shoulders and pillows. She looked peaceful, like an angel, but Marcus knew it wouldn’t last. He’d have to kick her out soon.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes clear of sleep. The clock on the nightstand read four thirty a.m. Damn it. He pushed himself into the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker. Pounding out fifty push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and fifty pull-ups before pouring himself a cup of coffee, he was wide-awake by the time he got in the shower.
As he wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror, he stared at his weary expression. The years in ATF had worn him down. Dull blue eyes stared back at him, his squared cheekbones and chin rounding out further each year. For thirty, he looked old, but the bureau had become his life. He’d never give it up.
His cell rang from the bedroom, and as he walked back in to answer Marcus noted Ms. Unknown was finally awake.
She watched him from the bed, silently judging him for waking her so early.
He didn’t respond to those deep brown eyes as he answered the phone, keeping his eyes lowered. “This is Grant.”
“Hey, it’s Brent.” His partner sounded just as tired as Marcus felt.
“What?” He imagined Brent just now waking in his run-down one-bedroom apartment on the other side of town, his black handlebar mustache covered in peanut butter.
“It’s Scott.”
“What’d he do now?” Marcus asked, turning toward the closet. His current assignment to keep an eye on his best friend and brother on the force had tried his patience to the limit. Scott Lively had always been a wild card, did what he wanted when he pleased and pissed off their captain more than Marcus ever could.
He imagined Scott had done something he shouldn’t have, maybe reported false evidence against Christian Wren, and pulled Marcus into it once more. With Wren responsible for three separate murders, Scott would have revenge for his wife’s death, but Marcus’s stomach clenched at the thought of the dumbass getting suspended yet again for not keeping his nose clean. Scott had taught him a lot, backed him up when he needed it the most, but the obsession with Wren had to end.
Marcus shook off the memory of their last conversation, an argument that involved Christian Wren. The guy was untouchable. The evidence Scott brought to the bureau’s attention never stuck. Never would. Why couldn’t Scott see it?
“You’re not going to like it, Marky,” Brent said, but didn’t elaborate.
“I’ll see you in an hour.”
Brent interrupted before he could hang up. “Well . . .” His partner couldn’t finish his sentence.
“What?”
“You need to get down here now.” Brent’s tone grew ominous. “The captain is going to lose it if she doesn’t see you in ten.”
“Why?” Marcus heard his new captain shrieking in the background and smiled to himself. She’d always been a bitch.
“Scott’s dead.”
He heard the words and his knees weakened with the possibility. “Come on, man. Don’t joke like that.” His voice had gone raspy, his mouth dry. “It’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking, Marcus. We found him early this morning.”
He nearly dropped the phone. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath and slumped against the closet door frame. He cleared his throat twice before he tried to speak. “Wh-what the hell happened?”
He pulled a T-shirt from the closet, ignoring the now-broken coat hanger from which he’d retrieved it. He had to get to the crime scene. He had to see the body for himself.
“Shot once in the head and once in the chest. Found in a Dumpster four blocks away from Wren Industries,” Brent explained, reading verbatim from his notes from the sound of it.
Nothing in the world could have prepared him for his best friend’s death. “This can’t be real.”
Millions of thoughts ran through Marcus’s head with hundreds of pictures of who the suspect might be. Scott had pissed off a lot of people in his life, especially in his work, but only one name stood out to him among them all.
“It was Wren,” he exclaimed. “Scott said Wren was a prime suspect in three murder cases aside from his wife’s and in one of his gun cases. He’d said he was getting closer, that he was onto something bigger.” Marcus’s anger seeped through, tinting his words. He gritted his teeth, trying to bite back the scream threatening to escape.
Scott had been right. He’d had something on Wren and Wren had killed him for it. Certainty flooded every nerve in his body, certainty his closest friend had been murdered for getting too close to a weapons manufacturing CEO.
Brent gave a chuckle and Marcus imagined his large belly shaking with the effort. “Could just be a coincidence.”
“Damn it, Brent!” His words and anger grew stronger with every syllable. “It had to be Wren. Scott wasn’t mixed up in drugs or gambling. He made a lot of enemies, but none that would kill him.”
“There’s something else, man.”
“You’re really starting to piss me off,” Marcus snapped, pulling the towel tighter against his waist. He threw the T-shirt on over his head, hanging on to his cell phone with one hand, and glanced back at Ms. Unknown for a moment, instantly wishing he hadn’t.
She watched him, brown eyes focused on his every movement. Her face sobered, years of wear and tear clouding her once perfect features.
“William Roberts,” Brent said, pulling him back into reality.
“What is the ADA doing at a crime scene?” He shoved the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he turned around.
Scott had said Roberts wanted something from him, but Marcus couldn’t remember what. All of his friend’s evidence on Wren had gone in one ear and out the other. The man couldn’t be arrested and, while Marcus had been on the bandwagon at first, the years of failed arrests had taken a toll on him.
He’d obviously made a big mistake.
He’d let his friend down.
“Roberts is the crime scene, man.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and waited in his own thoughts, his breathing shallow and quick. He heard Ms. Unknown throw the covers back from the bed and walk across the room to the bathroom, but he didn’t have time to think about her. He had a murder to solve.
Fifteen minutes passed before he settled on a plan. He crammed eggs down his throat as he dialed his partner back, deciding Christian Wren would pay for his crimes by the time Marcus finished with him. As soon as the line connected, he started, “We need to get back in bed with Wren, Brent. Find me a way inside to bring him down.”
“What?”
“I need to get in deep. Scott had something on him and I want to find out what it was. He’s slipped through our fingers too many times, and I can catch him. I need to catch him.”
“Marky, Marky, listen to me,” Brent begged. “The captain isn’t going to let you do this. Scott was a loose cannon and he was careless. What makes you think you won’t meet the same fate as him? Besides, how are you going to get close? They’ll be looking for another mole.”
“I am better than Scott.” He stared out the window for a full thirty seconds before realizing he needed Brent’s help. The wheels had been set in motion today. He needed leverage, a way to get into Wren’s detail. He needed a criminal. “Get me a list of Wren’s known associates. Go back as far as you can.”
“What for?”
“We’re going on a raid.” He closed the phone without a good-bye and set it against his lips in thought.
“A raid?” Ms. Unknown asked from the bathroom door, wrapped in his robe. Her wet hair fell around her shoulders, covering tan skin. Thick brown eyebrows arched above her almond-colored eyes. She had full pink lips. Natural, just like her chestnut hair. With the girl-next-door look, she’d proven his assumption of her wrong in every other department. “You a cop?”
“Yeah, I got to go.” He started for the door, but stopped short. “You can let yours
elf out.”
“Don’t you want to know my name?” she asked as he walked into the hallway.
Calling back over his shoulder, Marcus kept going. “If I’d wanted to know your name I would have asked for it.”
* * *
He wasn’t Homicide, but Marcus’s gut told him William Roberts should be a part of his investigation. Coincidence never held merit for him. An ATF agent and an ADA killed on the same day? He needed to take a closer look.
“Agent Grant,” an officer said. “We weren’t expecting you here.”
“What do you got for me?” He followed the young officer past the hotel room door, under the yellow police tape and into one of the hotel’s finest rooms.
“One in the head.” The officer paused, looking down to the victim. “No sign of a struggle.”
“Anything else?” Marcus stood beside the dead middle-aged man. Roberts’s eyes remained wide open; they’d been staring up at his killer. The bullet went through clean at close range. He looked around the room. Spotless.
A professional.
“Not yet.”
“What about his previous whereabouts? Do we know why the ADA was here?”
“We’re looking into it, Agent Grant.”
He sat beside the body, feeling the softness of the sheets and comforter and stared at the room before him. Nothing seemed out of place. Except this, he thought, eyeing the glass on the nightstand. Fizzling liquid still coated the bottom and, as Marcus held it to the light with a clean pair of gloves, he smiled.
“We’ve already found a print, Agent Grant,” the young officer said, reaching for the glass.
“Great, do you want a gold star?” The comment came out harsher than he’d intended, but it wasn’t Marcus’s job to care. “Did you find a match?”
“The only print is ADA Roberts’s.” The officer took the glass from him, sending it away for more testing. Even the liquid might give them a clue as to whom they were dealing with.
“Grant!”
The entire scene froze, each and every officer staring Marcus down.
“What the hell are you doing at my crime scene?”
Let Me Out (For Me, #1) Page 3
