Let Me Out (For Me, #1)

by Nichole Severn

“I need a flashlight.”

  An agent from the hallway clicked one on, throwing it into the room without actually entering. “Is it all right if we stay out here? I . . . I can’t—”

  “That’s fine.” Marcus turned back toward Adelaide with the flashlight in hand. A string from above tickled his face as he moved closer. The bulb dangling from the middle of the ceiling had a string attached. He pulled on it, illuminating the room in naked light, but once his vision adjusted, he wished he hadn’t.

  Adelaide hung from a pipe by her wrists, her feet dangling inches above the floor as blood pooled beneath her feet.

  Shock nearly doubled him over and he wondered how any man who felt love for this woman could hang her from a pipe in the ceiling. Without concentrating too hard on her injures, he wrapped an arm around her torso, supporting her weight with one arm. “One of you needs to get the knife from my pocket,” he said, addressing the agents just outside the room.

  They moved in unison, eager to please their prospective captain. One shoved his hands into Marcus’s cargo pants and pulled out a knife. “Sir.” The agent nodded, handing the blade over.

  Carefully, Marcus sawed at the rope, ready to catch the beaten body in his arms when it broke. It took two minutes before the rope snapped and Adelaide fell.

  As gently as he could, he laid her on the cold cement, feeling her neck for a pulse. Covered in blood and sweat, her skin had gone cold, but he felt the slight beating of her heart below the flushed exterior and exhaled in relief.

  She wasn’t dead, but very close.

  “Adelaide,” he whispered, pulling blood-soaked hair out of her face and eyes. “Can you hear me?” Marcus gently raised her upper body off of the cement and into his lap. “Adelaide,” he repeated.

  Her swollen eyelids struggled to open, but after a few tries Marcus saw one green eye. She licked her battered lips and winced.

  “Shh,” he cooed. “Don’t talk. Help is on the way.”

  Adelaide opened her mouth again, ignoring him and the pain she must have felt. “He lied.” She inhaled. “He lied to me.” She went limp in his arms, back into unconsciousness, leaving Marcus speechless.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Christian hadn’t ever been the type to run away, not even when his life depended on it in the compound, but now he had no choice. If he and Adelaide didn’t leave tonight they wouldn’t escape unscathed.

  His relationships with Captain Beth Howard and the district attorney lay in ruins. The empire he’d built with his own two hands would surely crumble by the week’s end, his board of directors privy to his criminal activity. Marcus Grant would make sure of it. He’d been planning on this, in some form, for the past year, but one variable changed: the person to tear the rug out from under his feet hadn’t been Adelaide, after all.

  “Do we have a deal?” an English accent interrupted, bringing Christian back from his thoughts.

  The clock above the mantel read eleven o’clock. It’d been three hours since he’d left Adelaide barely alive, waiting for his return. His anger had dissipated two hours ago, replaced with calm. He’d been planning the ways in which he’d save himself and the one he loved. Playing with the leather-bound book in front of him, he’d never been so grateful to see its return. He contemplated his next words carefully, knowing he’d never keep his promise. Christian wasn’t strong enough. “Yes, Mr. Banvard, I believe we have a deal.”

  Daniel Banvard rose to leave. “Good. Because I don’t ever want to see you near Adelaide again. You will not call her. You will not look for her. And you will not even think about her once I step outside that door.”

  He ignored the threat, watching the Englishman close the office door behind him. The clock ticked away the seconds, his window for escape closing with each moment he sat in his office, but the end of the night lay a long way off.

  * * *

  Just outside of Adelaide’s hospital room, Marcus waited for her to return to consciousness. Worry, impatience and hope clouded his mind. He couldn’t push away the guilt he felt for putting her in danger and hoped her life hadn’t been torn apart in vain.

  The same kind of guilt ate at him for not realizing Scott had been right all along.

  The doctors had cleaned, stitched and bandaged every wound, leaving Adelaide’s life in her own hands, but he couldn’t stay to learn if she’d survive. Only Adelaide could decide her fate.

  He had a different kind of murderer to apprehend.

  He pushed himself toward the car, not really seeing the road or streetlights ahead of him. They passed in a blur as he sought out Scott’s killer. The anger he’d felt at the sight of Adelaide’s broken and scarred body had faded, but the memory of his best friend’s cold body had engraved itself into his mind for eternity. Christian believed he’d become untouchable, but Marcus would make the self-proclaimed god bleed tonight. His badge, his life, even Adelaide meant nothing to him as he left the hospital. Scott Lively, ATF agent and friend, wouldn’t go down as a man who’d died in vain.

  The rain clouds had passed over the city long ago but had left murky and wet trails. Pulling his car up the long driveway to the mansion, Marcus knew Christian hadn’t fled yet. The bastard’s SUV remained out front.

  The phone in his jacket started to vibrate, pulling his concentration from his violent thoughts. His fingers moved quickly, answering the device as he pushed himself from the car. “Did it work?”

  “He made the deal,” Daniel responded. “He has the ledger.”

  Marcus had prepared for tonight for two long months and he exhaled hard. “Good work, Daniel. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Just make sure he’ll never get his hands on her again.”

  The line went dead.

  He moved toward the front door slowly, testing the doorknob before he wedged his shoulder against the heavy wood and cracked it open. He couldn’t hear anything louder than his own breathing and held his breath in order to get a sense of what waited for him.

  Pushing farther inside, he noted just how dark the house was. No lights burned, no moonlight illuminating the maroon carpet he knew so well, and he kept his senses at full attention.

  Wren waited for him somewhere in the house.

  He could feel it.

  Peering around corners discreetly, his service weapon drawn, he took stock of the situation as he moved down the great hallway. Silence rang throughout the house, kicking Marcus’s nerves into overdrive. Sweat beaded against his forehead as he swallowed loudly, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.

  He’d been in tight situations before, waited for criminals in dark alleys, forced himself undercover to catch LA’s most perverse scum, but this time it’d been personal. The thought should have comforted him, given him the motivation he needed in order to finish this, but the possibility of failure consumed his thoughts.

  He pushed one foot in front of the other, forcing his mind to stay focused. Blood pumped behind his ears, his breath coming in small gasps as he moved forward, but then he caught movement at the end of the hall.

  * * *

  Adelaide’s eyes tried to adjust to the bright light shining directly in her face. She squinted in annoyance, trying to see past the gleaming circles of illumination, and finally raised her hand to block her face.

  But she couldn’t move.

  Raising her head slightly off the pillow, she tried again, deciphering the sound of metal on metal as a pair of handcuffs keeping her attached to the bed. Her vision cleared, images coming into focus as her swollen eyes worked to obey her commands.

  She was surrounded by machines in a hospital bed, letting her know she’d survived. The constant pulsing of the equipment soothed her racing mind as she concentrated on the sound, but it wouldn’t last.

  The monster would return sooner or later and Adelaide had to find a way out of here. Letting her head fall back to the pillow beneath her, she licked her dry, cracked lips, eager for water. The button to call the nurse seemed so far away, and the longer she
stared at it the less inclined she was to move.

  She’d been caught. Her time had come, but somehow the thought wasn’t comforting.

  Adelaide wiggled her toes first, satisfied a connection between them and her brain remained intact. Her fingers followed and finally her legs and arms. Everything seemed to be in working order. She only had to suffer through the pain as she turned toward the nightstand by her bed and riffled through the drawers.

  * * *

  The shadow looked about Christian’s size, but Marcus couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t see. The form moved quickly, half running toward him.

  Hundreds of thoughts ran through his head. Had he been seen? Was Wren expecting him? Did he just walk into a trap?

  The shadow continued toward him. He held his breath, ready for the confrontation. He craved it. He’d wanted this since the moment Brent had told him Scott had been murdered, and now he had his chance.

  He’d prepared for this.

  Wren’s features came into focus as he came within feet of Marcus’s position, his eyes focused on the front door, his hands full with a large duffle bag.

  Marcus took the opportunity.

  He stepped into the middle of the hallway, waiting for Wren to recognize him as the man who’d come for revenge.

  Christian’s eyes darted toward him, his pace slowing. A loud exhale filled the silence as it left his lungs. “I should have known you would come back.”

  Marcus leveled his weapon at Wren’s chest as he gripped it with two hands. “We have some unfinished business.”

  The duffle bag slipped from Wren’s hands as he raised his hands in surrender, a smile on his face. “Is she really that important to you?”

  The question caught Marcus off guard, but he didn’t move. “This isn’t about Adelaide, Wren. This is about the man you had killed and deposited in a Dumpster four blocks away from your office.” He took one step forward, his eyes roaming over Christian’s body for weapons before he dared move closer to pat him down.

  “I’m not armed,” Wren said, the smile still in place.

  He ran his left hand over Wren’s legs and around his waist, satisfied Christian told the truth. “What’s so amusing?” he asked, looking up toward the criminal’s face for just a moment.

  A quick hit to the face brought him down, forcing Marcus to the floor. Blood filled his mouth as a raging headache surfaced. His ears rang painfully, but he still made out the footsteps of Christian’s boots as he circled.

  The boots stopped in front of his face, pushing Marcus onto his back.

  He stared up into Wren’s eyes. It’d been too easy to take him by surprise, and he remembered all too late Christian rarely used a weapon. His entire body had been made into a weapon.

  Wren lowered himself down onto his haunches, pushing Marcus’s weapon from his hand. “I was really starting to like you, Marcus. You’re hardworking, motivated, determined. All good things I need in a bodyguard, and,” he said, straightening up with Marcus’s gun in hand, “I suppose I have a position open now that Taigen is dead.” He moved faster than Marcus thought possible, catching him in the stomach with a quick kick. “But I don’t think it would have worked out for us with you wanting me behind bars and all.”

  He struggled to breathe as his eyes shut involuntarily. It took seconds to regain his composure, and when he did, all bets were off. This man would die for the lives he’d destroyed.

  “What makes you think you’ll make it that far, you son of a bitch?” Sweeping his leg out, he dropped Christian onto his back, letting his instincts take over. He pushed himself from the floor and unsheathed the knife his opponent had once admired so much. He watched Wren rise from the floor, the predator’s eyes following his every move.

  “If you leave now, Marcus, I’ll let you live,” Christian said, his icy stare boring into him from less than five feet away.

  “Did Scott have the same opportunity?”

  Marcus lunged, his mind lost in the heat of the moment as his arms reached out. His fingertips brushed Wren’s shirt then he felt the searing pain. There wasn’t time to look at the blood drawn. He rolled, avoiding the next slash of Christian’s knife, and came up for air.

  His opponent turned quickly, getting situated before striking. “Do you know who trained Adelaide with a knife?” Christian asked, knife extended toward Marcus’s chest. “Here’s a hint: it wasn’t Harlow.”

  He dodged each strike with the grace the Marines taught him years ago as the blade slashed down toward his face. It barely missed his right eye this time and he took Wren by surprise, gripping his wrist as hard as he could as his knee went into the man’s stomach.

  The knife dropped to the carpeted floor and Marcus sprang for it. Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he screamed out in pain when Wren’s foot slammed down onto his hand. He tried to pull away, but another foot slammed into his chest, knocking him onto his back two feet away from the blade.

  Wren stalked toward him, ready to take the opportunity to strike again, when something stopped him dead in his tracks.

  * * *

  Adelaide held the knife tightly against Christian’s throat from behind, her chest pressed against his back, her breathing reflecting back to her from his skin. She had imagined and waited for this moment for so long, but she didn’t know how to continue.

  Her plan had only been to stop him from killing Marcus. She wouldn’t let the monster grow stronger from their greatest opponent’s death and she wouldn’t let him push her over the edge.

  Droplets of blood pooled on Christian’s skin where her knife bit into him, and she wanted to run her tongue along the crimson line. Her monster waited in her peripheral view, anticipating her next move just as much as Christian and Marcus did.

  “Adelaide,” Christian whispered, trying to turn around to face her.

  She let him. Adelaide had the upper hand here. She only had to finish him and she’d be free.

  His cold blue eyes stared back at her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  She pushed the blade harder against his throat, forcing him to back up against the wall until he had nowhere else to go. Her gaze steadied with his, violent thoughts running through her mind nonstop.

  Adelaide only had to pick which visual to give in to.

  Her arm ached, the cuts and bruises from their last meeting fresh. She didn’t have time to recover, but her only chance to seize her freedom and her future stared her in the face.

  “I know how much you want to be free, Adelaide,” Christian said, his arms rising toward her blade. “But this isn’t the way to get what you want. Do you understand?” His conviction wavered as he tried to change her mind, but she’d already made her decision, her intentions clear. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

  Wrapping his hands around her wrist tightly, Christian wrenched her arm behind her back, shoving the heel of his boot into her.

  She kept a hold on the knife as he pushed her forward, slicing it across his hand as she pulled away. Turning to confront him once again, she watched as his blood dripped onto the floor. The sight made her hungry for more, her monster knocking on the edges of her mind.

  Let me out, it begged, screaming at her. Let me out!

  The sensation of falling overcame her and she closed her eyes, relaxing into it. When she reopened them, a smile crawled across her face. “Ready to play?”

  * * *

  Adelaide’s change was frightening, the difference tangible. Her body remained the same, but her eyes had gone cold and lifeless.

  Adelaide wasn’t there.

  Marcus watched Wren relax into the stance he’d seen during their sparring matches and knew this match wouldn’t stop until someone died. Marcus crawled across the thick carpet, only sparingly looking down at the knife wound in his stomach as he drew closer to his discarded weapon. He didn’t have time to feel the pain. The showdown had begun.

  He stayed surprisingly calm as he moved, watching Wren begin to tire against his own creatio
n. Wren had lost control of his business, of his life, and of Adelaide. The man had nothing left to lose, but the fact made him all the more dangerous. The cop in Marcus slowly took over, contemplating how he could get both the monster and the master into cuffs.

  “Who are you?” Wren asked, but the question wasn’t directed toward Marcus. He sidestepped her, putting more distance between himself and the woman ready to take his life.

  She laughed, her voice tinted with silver bells. “Oh, Christian, I thought you were smarter than that. Don’t you recognize me?”

  Marcus could almost reach the knife, his hand a mere two inches away from it, when suddenly a boot nearly snapped every one of his fingers in half. He held his scream back between gritted teeth as feeling came back into his fingertips slowly. Looking up in surprise, he expected Wren to have made a full circle around her, but met Adelaide’s eyes instead.

  “Don’t worry, Agent Marcus Grant,” she said. “I have plans for you, too.” She gave him a quick smile, but couldn’t hold it in place as she turned around quickly to fight Wren off from behind.

  * * *

  Adelaide drowned in the tumult of her own mind. The darkness closed in, suffocating her from the inside. She’d been so close to achieving her goal. She could have just walked away from the hospital, but the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach had forced her to confront her fears.

  Christian had kept her caged, a slave, but now she fought against herself, trying to get control of the enemy inside. She couldn’t get out, couldn’t push her head above the water.

  Adelaide had lost a piece of herself in the murders, in the thefts and in the commands, and she just couldn’t take it anymore. The monster would be the death of her someday, but she’d fight for control and her life until her very last breath.

  * * *

  Adelaide’s voice grew louder, pleading to let her out, but she didn’t have room in this fight. The monster wasn’t willing to give up freedom lightly, reveling in the freedom she’d been granted.