Let Me Out (For Me, #1)

by Nichole Severn

  Taigen laughed, the sound growing louder and louder. “You’re perfect for this group.” When Marcus gave him a questioning look over the rim of the garbage can, he continued. “You’re suicidal.”

  His head pounded right behind his eyes. “She has some kick.” He moved his jaw in circles, making sure nothing had broken.

  “That’s her specialty.” Taigen got up to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  He stopped in his tracks. Turning back toward Marcus, his eyes narrowed, his face thoughtful, he said, “You haven’t told me why you’re doing this.”

  “What do you mean?” He felt the blood drain from his face as he threw up into the garbage again.

  “Why are you here for Wren?” Taigen stood motionless. “No cop would risk his life to put that man behind bars, not even that guy, Sco—” He cut his words short, staring directly into Marcus’s eyes with his lips slightly parted. “That’s it.” His tone sounded distant. “Scott Lively. You’re here because of him.”

  “It’s complicated,” Marcus replied. “I just . . .”

  Taigen studied him for a moment then laughed again.

  He couldn’t reply with the bile in his throat and wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

  Banvard waited for the vomiting to end, his arms folded over his chest. “If I can figure it out, so can Christian, and he won’t be so understanding, Marcus.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve gotten yourself into deep shit. He will kill you and everyone you love.”

  “What do you suggest I do? Forget what happened? Just walk out the front door?” He licked his lips, strained with the thought of letting Wren walk away. “I just need time.”

  “I will help you as much as I can, but I have one piece of advice.” Taigen unfolded his arms, stepping closer to Marcus, his electric blue eyes blazing. “Keep your relationship with my sister professional.”

  The statement surprised him and made him all the more curious. “What?”

  “I like you, Marcus, more than I expected, but it doesn’t change the fact you gave me your word.”

  Shit, Marcus thought. How could he have forgotten the promise he’d made inside the cell with him? Not touching the man’s sister had been a stupid promise to make. “It’s not like that,” he lied.

  Taigen grinned. “Say what you want, but the way you look at her says otherwise. She belongs to another. Respect that. Lastly, don’t let Christian see you watching her or it’s game over for all of us.” A small smile crossed his features, his shoulders shaking with the laugh he tried to keep to himself. “Besides, she’ll kill you.”

  He left the room with the words trailing behind him as Marcus pushed himself from the bed.

  He was going back to the training room.

  * * *

  He looked for her but Adelaide wasn’t anywhere in sight. His stomach dropped in disappointment, his curiosity getting the best of him. He wanted to compare her to her brother, to know if she wanted him dead, to stare into her emerald green eyes.

  In Marcus’s peripheral vision, a figure fell from the ceiling.

  Adelaide struggled to get back on the wall, her leg at an impossible angle as she reached behind her, coating her hands with white chalk. Switching her hold, she did the same with her other hand and swung herself closer to her goal.

  Every movement she made left Marcus in awe.

  “Amazing, isn’t she?” Wren asked.

  Marcus didn’t know how long he’d been standing next to him, but for the first time since he’d set foot in the house, he didn’t care. “Ah, yeah.”

  “She’s the best,” Christian stated, looking up at her. He watched with the same affection Marcus imagined was sprawled across his face a moment ago. “You ever climb?” he asked, turning in anticipation.

  “No.” Marcus smiled slightly, shaking his head. “Never.”

  “Want to try?”

  “Are you kidding?” Looking up to Adelaide, his stomach sank for a different reason: fear.

  “Come on. You have to learn if you want to be a part of this team.” Wren patted him on the shoulder and walked toward one of the walls, calling back over his shoulder, “We’ll give you an easy one.”

  Marcus had no choice but to follow.

  Adelaide belayed down quickly, seeming to barely register the fact people stood directly beneath her. She landed in front of Marcus, her back to him.

  He smelled the scent of her skin as it wafted into his nostrils. Lemons. It wasn’t his intention to inhale deeply or to step closer to her, but he never could keep himself away from an exquisite woman.

  “Adie, take him up,” Wren ordered, handing Marcus a harness.

  Thrown back into reality, he flinched.

  “I’ll belay. She’ll climb with you, make sure you know the ropes.”

  He pushed his legs through the straps, exchanged his tennis shoes for climbing shoes and circled the rope through his harness. Marcus glanced to Adelaide, noticing she didn’t have a harness or any ropes tied to her. “Don’t you need these, too?”

  She gave him a smile but didn’t linger as she turned toward the wall.

  He pushed himself to follow after her, his hands gripping the handholds as hard as he could. He’d never been a fan of heights.

  “Don’t worry, Marcus. We’ll keep you safe.” Wren winked at him, tightening the rope. “For now.”

  Marcus didn’t know what the hell he meant but didn’t care. He motioned to Adelaide, signaling for her to lead him to his death. “After you.”

  Reaching up, she gripped a red hold and pulled herself up a few feet. She looked down at him, waiting in expectation.

  Marcus chose the blue route and followed her example, reaching up and pulling his feet behind. He tried to force his other hand up but couldn’t seem to get the grip to move. Aside from the broken ribs and upset stomach, exhaustion had taken a toll on his body.

  Adelaide reached down, wrapping her hand around his, and led him to the next hold. She moved on, but he could only stare after her in surprise. For a man who’d been set on revenge, Marcus Grant had lost focus.

  Chapter Eleven

  Neither the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms nor Agent Marcus Grant seemed concerned with security. It’d been too easy to get his address from ATF’s records and Marcus hadn’t invested in an alarm system. Adelaide wanted a challenge.

  Homey. She traced her fingertips over the back of the soft leather couch. She’d imagined breaking into an agent’s house would be harder, some type of risk involved. A hope she hadn’t been clever enough to throw Christian off her trail invigorated her, but all too soon a pang of disappointment settled in her chest.

  Her unplanned escape from the mansion tonight so far had turned out to be for naught. She needed to know Marcus Grant, where he came from, what made him special, but very little here told her anything about the man.

  No photos. Nothing to suggest a hobby of some kind, not even paint on the walls.

  Adelaide made her way upstairs. There had to be evidence of a life before Marcus had pushed his way into hers, something she could use for her own benefit. Overwhelming curiosity pulled her toward the bedroom instead of the office, the most logical starting point.

  People hid secrets in bedrooms.

  Her eyes roamed over the space, taking in a four-drawer dresser, a hamper full of dirty clothes, a door most likely leading into a walk-in closet, a nightstand and finally the bed. With no headboard, sheets ruffled and stained pillowcases, the bed kept nothing from Adelaide’s imagination.

  This bed got a lot of use.

  She walked to one side, shoving her hands beneath the mattress. Nothing. She did the same to the other side and came up empty-handed. She had to find something. Her freedom depended on it. Adelaide bent down to search beneath the bed, catching sight of a pair of tan workboots on the other side.

  Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest, but Adelaide forced herself to breathe evenly. She’d burn through the sedative too fast if she didn
’t calm down, and, realizing the boots were empty, her heart rate lowered.

  You need my help. The monster never disappeared, but only a soft echo remained long enough for Adelaide to understand its demands. It wanted out. She shook her head out of habit and straightened.

  Let me out.

  An arm wrapped around her neck from behind and she reacted automatically. She threw her elbow back. Hard. It connected with a set of masculine ribs, but he didn’t let go. Adelaide did it again, and this time she got herself free. Nobody could have known her whereabouts. Spinning to confront her attacker, she froze as the barrel of a gun pressed lightly to her forehead.

  “I thought we had a deal,” he said.

  Adelaide’s chest rose and fell in gasps. Hopes her sedative would last longer faded as the monster slowly began to appear to her right, a ghost transitioning back into the world of the living.

  Surprise! it yelped with a smile. The monster jumped up and down like a child, twirling in circles. Pieces of the monster’s hair brushed Adelaide’s face, passing right through her. Did you miss me?

  Adelaide kept her eyes on the man in front of her despite her desire to just kill him and continue on with her search. The shadows hid his face, but she didn’t have to guess who’d followed her in. She hadn’t been clever enough after all.

  “I told you not to hunt without me.” He reached for the lamp on the nightstand and turned it on. Christian righted himself, lowering the gun.

  Hunt. As if she was some type of animal. Flashes of her days in the ring assaulted her. She had been an animal back then. Despite her past, she refused to react to his words, but his implication steadily increased her adrenaline. He’d tried to convince her the urges were normal for someone with her condition, but she’d never really believed him. Taking one night a month to release the pent-up anxiety, to kill some unknown homeless man, wasn’t normal. Not even by her standards. Those years in the compound had taken her mind and her humanity.

  “This isn’t your usual taste.” Christian stepped into her, merely inches away, but his eyes surveyed the room. “So what about this place is so important that you had to hide it from me?”

  She shook her head in response.

  “You think I came unprepared?”

  Adelaide should have guessed he’d figure out who owned the house.

  “What I can’t figure out is why you’re here.” His breath felt warm on her cheek. “He’s nothing to you.”

  The monster screamed at the contact. It attacked Christian, passing through his flesh and bone. Adelaide enjoyed the visual performance of living out her fantasies and she felt a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

  Christian stepped in closer. Too close. She tried to back away. The bed hit the back of her thighs, cutting off her escape. Lowering his mouth to her right ear and gripping her biceps with both hands, he whispered to her, “She can’t hurt me, Adelaide. And neither can you.” Pulling back, he merely watched for her to react, but Adelaide wouldn’t give him a damn thing.

  She kept her gaze steady with his, but the hallucination circling to her left slowly wore her down.

  He’s there, my love, it whispered. Just take what’s yours. Make him pay for all those times he locked us up.

  Adelaide’s hands twitched. She fisted them, digging her nails into her palms. She couldn’t kill him yet. She needed him. The reminder made a knot form in the pit of her stomach.

  Breaking contact with her, Christian leaned to his left and opened the nightstand drawer, shuffling the items within. “I’m sure Marcus would have a problem with you rummaging through his things.” None of the articles seemed to interest him and he turned back to her. “Do what you came here for.” Without warning, he walked toward the bedroom door.

  Adelaide’s chest relaxed the farther he made it across the room.

  “And Adelaide,” he said, his tone lowering an octave.

  She refused to acknowledge him, afraid one twitch would give her monster reason to act.

  “I don’t need to remind you that I was the one who saved your life in Mexico. Not Marcus.”

  * * *

  Marcus noticed Adelaide never spoke. She studied the leaves on plants as she walked by and refused to eat most of the time, as if the food had been poisoned, but one observation led him to ask a question he knew he shouldn’t. “What would Adelaide do if she saw Harlow?”

  Taigen threw a punch, but Marcus ducked just in time. “You’re kidding, right?”

  They circled each other on the mat again, waiting for the other to strike.

  Taigen advanced again, throwing another quick jab. “If you haven’t noticed, Adie’s not always there one hundred percent of the time. She doesn’t recognize reality like the rest of us do. She thinks Harlow Vicente is dead. If he was to walk through that door right now,” he said and paused, shaking his head, “all hell would break loose.”

  “What do you mean?” Marcus had already learned about her disorder from Vicente, but curiosity nearly overwhelmed him. He couldn’t understand how someone let a voice or a delusion rule half of their mind. He swung, catching Taigen on the right side of his jaw.

  His sparring partner recovered quickly. “She wouldn’t just kill him. She’d make him pay for every second he held her in that compound. Adelaide wouldn’t be able to think logically. She would focus on her revenge rather than saving her own life if it came down to it.”

  They moved to their respective corners for a drink.

  Marcus gulped down the water hastily. “But she’s on medication, right? I mean, I’ve seen Wren give her shots every once in a while.”

  Taigen paused, looking across the mat in thought. “We keep it nearby in case of an episode.”

  “An episode?” Sounded like Adelaide needed to be in a mental institution, not walking around with a 9mm in her holster.

  “When she loses control, that broken side of her mind escapes.” He exhaled loudly. “We call it the monster. When she has an episode . . .”

  They raised their gloves, readying for the next round.

  Marcus straightened, unsure how to proceed. He got the feeling Wren wasn’t the only one responsible for the murders Scott had uncovered. Perhaps he’d gotten help from the schizophrenic woman he kept on staff. “How bad is it? I mean . . . has she killed . . . a lot?”

  “Couldn’t tell you, to be honest. She doesn’t have normal emotional responses. As you can see, she’s isolated and withdrawn. She doesn’t feel pain like the rest of us. We tried therapy, but her level of schizophrenia is too advanced.” Taigen shook his head. “It’s a whole different ball game when that side of her is free.”

  Marcus waited.

  “Let’s just say it’s bad.” Taigen turned back toward his corner. “Things get bloody.”

  And people end up dead, Marcus finished for him. People like Scott Lively. His stomach dropped at the thought Scott hadn’t been killed by Wren’s hands, but by Adelaide’s. Would she have made it more painful, drawn out his death, as Taigen described?

  Was he after the wrong person?

  “I blackmailed Harlow into getting me the meeting with Wren,” Marcus said, his voice slightly raspy. “What do you think he wants out of all this?”

  “Harlow’s the one who made Adelaide what she is today,” Taigen said a little harsher than before. “Christian took her from him, and I expect he wants her back now that he knows where she is.”

  Marcus didn’t know how to respond and threw a punch, missing his target.

  Taigen swung around, catching him in the kidney. He threw all his strength into the following blows, but Marcus recovered quickly and moved out of the way.

  “What did Harlow make her do?” he asked, moving forward. “I mean, did he . . .”

  Taigen moved back into position. “Christian made sure Harlow never laid a finger on her.” The statement left his lips as a whisper. “I can never thank him enough for that.”

  “Is that why you’re still here?” he asked. “To pay him back?” />
  A chuckle escaped Taigen’s throat, a smile crossing his fierce features. “No, I’m here for Adie.” Catching Marcus by surprise, he wrapped his left leg around his waist, pulling him to the ground.

  The air left his chest in a rush, but Marcus wasn’t done getting the information he needed. “You never answered my question.”

  Taigen dropped his hands to his side in consideration. “Christian told me they were kept in the same pitch-black cell. At night, Harlow would come for him and then for Adelaide. They were forced to fight, to kill others their own age for money.” He inhaled deeply. “Adelaide was the best at what she did.” He righted himself and raised his hands.

  Marcus took advantage, throwing his right hook.

  Taigen went down, leaving him to stare at the ceiling with a smile on his face. “That was good.” Pushing himself up from the mat, he removed his gloves and tossed them into the corner of the ring. “Let’s see how you do bare-fisted.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Why not? No fight we get into will be with gloves. Trust me.” Taigen stepped forward again and raised his arms into place.

  “You’re expecting us to actually fight?” Marcus copied Taigen’s stance. “Most bodyguards don’t see battle.”

  “Around here”—Banvard swung, barely missing—“you never know. You’ve got to be ready for anything.”

  Their feet shuffled across the mat, the only sound in his ears, but Marcus kept his head on straight. Taigen couldn’t rattle him. He stepped to his right side, dodging Taigen’s bare fist once again and reciprocated the attack.

  Banvard pushed forward, barely catching him in the ear. “A couple years after she escaped, Christian led her back. He thought it would help. This was right after I found her. She wasn’t there for two minutes before the entire building and everyone in it was burning.”

  Marcus thrust his fist toward Taigen’s kidneys. He made a connection, pushing his opponent back into the ropes. “But Harlow escaped.” Not without something to show for it. The scars across Harlow’s face, arms and back had burned themselves into Marcus’s mind.