by Charlie Hart
Right now, all that faces us, headlong. An evil man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. No matter the cost. And that isn’t even counting the fact that Tia was fucking betrothed to a man that is anti-Alaska with every breath he takes.
People may take stabs at what a freak show Warren Thorne is, but if you’re at a bar, throwing a few back and you get someone talking about Lawson Jefferson, you’re just asking for a rant. That man is a douche-canoe and a half, with a fucking fake smile and a small ass dick.
He’s the poster child for everything that is wrong with America, and now my wife has brought two monsters to our doorstep.
“We’re going to my room,” I tell my mother, keeping Tia’s hand in my own.
But Mom and Dad are lost in a disgusting kiss already, their twisted desire for one another stoking the fury brewing in my heart.
“Come on,” I tell my wife, dragging her through a door. “We can stay in my old bedroom.”
“This is where you grew up?” she asks as I navigate the corridors, shock in her voice.
I nod. “Fucked up right? I couldn’t even get to my own home without an escort.”
“You mean you don’t know where we are?”
I smirk, but there’s no humor in it. “I told you, fucked up. Though I could make a good guess. Still, don’t you think the blindfolds are a little much?”
She shrugs, looking at the sterile walls and the long hall. “I guess it depends on what kind of secrets your mother is keeping.”
“Hell, if I know. I just know she came from money, lots of it, and uses her cash to fund her projects. Her secret projects. And while your dad is playing mad scientist in Seattle, she’s playing her own game up here. But even I don’t have access to what she’s working on.”
“Is she looking for a cure?”
“Maybe.” I run a hand through my thick hair. “I don’t fucking know. I hate all of this.”
Tia scoffs, pulling her hand away from mine.
“What did I do wrong now?”
“You made light of this situation.” She shakes her head, exasperated. “You grew up in a freaking futuristic laboratory and never asked a question about why. I just find your nonchalance a little offensive.”
I snort, walking past the door on my right, the one that holds so many memories, my chest squeezing. Instead, I push open my old bedroom door. I haven’t been here in years and when we step inside, nothing has changed.
“Well, good on you, Christina,” I say her real name with a hint of venom. “For being so damn high and mighty. And I suppose you know all the fucked up shit your dad does in his lab?”
She draws back, standing in the doorway. “What do you mean?”
My lip curls, trying to decipher how genuine she is being. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
I frown. “Why did you run away, Tia?”
She steps into the room and shuts the door behind her. She looks around furtively, and the strong, self-assured woman that was speaking to my mother seems a million miles away.
“I couldn’t marry Lawson. I couldn’t be his wife. He was so...” She covers her face, and I see how much the day’s events have weighed on her. “I know he paid for me and I owed him my body, but I couldn’t bear the idea of dying to bring his child into the world.”
“It wasn’t because of your father?”
Her eyes bore into mine. “What do you know about my father?”
“That he has a reputation.”
She swallows. “He’s intense and controlling, but he means well. He’s spent his life working on a cure.”
I’m not sure how much of what she says she truly believes, but I can tell she isn’t aware of half the stuff Warren Thorne has done in the name of the so-called cure.
“He sold you,” I say, closing the door and locking it. “To a man you didn’t love. And yet you still see him as a hero?”
“A hero?” She shakes her head. “No. I know he’s a dangerous man. I know...” Her eyes go distant and she wraps her arms around herself, shivering. “I was his little girl. His only daughter. And while I underwent lots of lab work and testing, it was all for my own good. I didn’t like that part, but I wasn’t alone in it. All of the women at Saint Augustine’s were a part of his research.”
Despite everything he did to her, there’s still a little girl inside her head that wants to think the best of the man. Hell, I get it. My own parents are the furthest things from saints, and yet there’s a piece of me that wants their approval. In fact, craves it.
I drag my fingers over my face. “You have to see how fucked up that is, right?”
She glares at me. “Meanwhile, you don’t even ask your mother what she’s doing here. That’s how little this population problem matters to you. But Salinger, my life is at stake. The future of humanity is at stake.”
I listen to her and realize she really hasn’t a clue of how bad it is. What her father has done. What he continues to do. I don’t think she has any idea that he actually tortures women. My only comfort is knowing he never hurt her. At least, not in the way he’d hurt others.
I won’t be the one to break that news to her. Especially, not tonight.
Tia sits on the edge of the bed and takes off her shoes. Her shoulders slouch forward like the weight of the world rests on them.
“And yet, you’re afraid of the man,” I say to her, kicking my own shoes off and crawling onto the bed beside her.
“The fact that I ran from my betrothed means my father will kill any man who has touched me,” she says. “He was overwhelming in his desire to keep me safe. And it stifled me, Sal. It was like I lived in a web he spun and could never break free of, and him choosing Lawson for me was the final straw. He said it was to protect me, but it felt like I was trapped.”
“But you did break free, Tia,” I say, wanting to pull her back into my arms, but not knowing if she’d accept my comfort.
“Did I?” She shakes her head and lies down beside me, staring up at the ceiling.
My heart softens for her as I see how much she is struggling with the facts of her life story. It’s strange, being alone with her like this. She is this wild woman, all fury and spitfire one moment, and the next she looks so damn vulnerable, so raw.
Maybe that’s why hard-headed men like Fallon and Giles have already confessed their love for her. She is both hard and soft, bitter and sweet. Tia is not just one thing. She’s a woman with multiple layers, and that makes me think my father didn’t fuck up when he put my name in the Lottery.
If I was going to have a woman, I’d sure as hell want her to be like the one I’ve got.
And I did confess my love tonight to my parents. It may not be the all-consuming love Giles and Fallon feel for her, but it’s the start of something. And I know it could be so much more if she would fully open up to me if we had time. But that’s one thing I’m not sure we have.
I drag my knuckles over her cheek. So damn beautiful.
“You’re free, Tia. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I broke free all right,” she says, emotions twisting her face. “And in doing so, I trapped you and five other men. And you, Salinger, never even wanted to marry, to be in the Lottery. I did more than trap you. I ruined you.”
I give her a weak smile, the best I can muster. “Nah, I’m not ruined. I just wish that things were different.” I lay next to her on the bed, wishing I had the capacity to give her more, give her anything.
But I feel like I’m sitting beside a stranger. She’s falsely presented herself to me, to her other husbands, to the government of Alaska. The truth is, this entire marriage is a sham.
It’s illegal, by Universal law, to sleep with a woman already bought and paid for. And the fact that she crossed state lines while already paid for is an even larger offense. Sure, women do it all the time, but not women running from men as powerful as Warren Thorne and Lawson Jefferson.
She knew how dangerous this was, and yet she did it anyway. Ra
n from a life that would no doubt be more comfortable than one I and her other five husbands could ever provide.
The issues she had with Lawson must have been serious.
I take her hand in mine, entwining our fingers.
“You know how you didn’t want to marry me?” she asks, turning her face to mine and giving me the softest smile.
I lift my eyebrows.
“Well, I have a confession.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I didn’t realize Alaska had this lottery. I came here thinking I’d marry one man, for love. Not six.”
I swallow. I hadn’t thought about how difficult it must be for her to be married to six men. I grew up knowing that if I ever got married, I would most likely share a wife. But for someone unaccustomed to the practice, I’m sure it must seem odd.
“Had you known, would you have still run?”
She bites her bottom lip, tears filling her eyes. “I’d like to believe I would have been that brave. But I don’t know. I came here to find freedom and instead...”
“You found yourself bound to six men instead of one.”
She nods, glancing down at our conjoined hands. “When I found out about the Lottery at the intake, I was stuck. If I left, the only place I could go was home. And I couldn’t return knowing how angry everyone would be with me. So, I went along with it and dragged everyone into my mess.”
She covers her face with her free hand and gives a shuddering breath.
Comfort her, my heart demands. Pull her against your chest and let her know you’re there for her.
But something stops me. Fear? Maybe. I haven’t allowed myself to care about anyone in a very long time. It’s scary as hell. Especially, knowing this whole marriage could crash around us at any moment.
I wish we were closer than we are. That I was a man she had already shared herself with. Maybe then I would be able to offer her the sort of comfort I see she needs.
But there’s no way in hell, I’m going to make a move now. Not when she is so fucking on edge.
“I was a coward,” she says in a whisper. “And now Giles is in prison and I’m keeping lies from the other men. I’m not free at all, Salinger. And the worst part is, now I’m caught in my own web of deceit. And there’s no easy way out.”
I can’t help myself. I cup her face in my hand, her tears spilling across her cheeks. My heart aches for her. And I’m not a heart-aching kind of bastard. I don’t fall hard and fast. Hell, I’ve never been in love at all.
Why love in a world that is so damn bleak? But holding Tia’s face in my hands now, I can see why love exists, even when most women don’t. She is close enough to kiss, and I imagine my lips against hers. They are so soft and full and lawfully mine. Or at least they were before we learned she lied about who she is. Now I know her lips belong to Lawson.
Shit, the others are going to be furious when they find out.
“Hey.” I lean my forehead against hers, steadying my breath. “All good things take time, isn’t that what they say?”
She wipes her eyes, trying to gather her emotions. “Maybe that’s true for some people, but I don’t know that we have time, Salinger.”
My gut lurches, because I have a bad feeling she’s right.
Chapter 3
Tia
I fell asleep in Salinger’s arms, his hard body warm and comforting against my back, his strong arms wrapped around me tightly. And when I dreamed, for the first time since Giles had been taken away, nightmares didn’t plague me.
Instead, I had visions of children, of babies, surrounding me. My own and others’ little ones. A new hope for the future. In my dreams, I’m not scared. Instead, I was drawn to them, comforted by their presence.
Two little girls smile up at me, one with bright red hair, the other with dark curls and even darker eyes. They giggle before running into the waiting arms of my husbands, who scoop them up and toss them, laughing, into the air, before catching them again.
I laugh with them, and even though in sleep I know it’s only a dream, my heart lurches with happiness.
A toddler crawls on the floor, and a wide-eyed baby is placed in my arms, settling only when it suckles at my breast, sending pleasing endorphins through my dream state, wrapping us all in a mother’s love. A love I have never known, yet with my eyes closed, I can offer it to the children around me.
Love.
Contentment.
Hope.
Even sleeping, I know that nothing about the dream could ever come to pass, but I revel in it all the same. In this blurry fantasy, embodying everything that I can never have, I take what my mind offers at the moment, because I know I’ll need the strength of it in the coming days.
When everything changes.
I toss and turn, suddenly cold, the dream-children slip from my arms and I am alone.
But I’m not alone, am I? I have my husbands. We’re already a family. With or without children, we’re one unit. Until death do us part. Those were our vows.
In the early morning hours, my mind hazy with sleep, I force myself to steady my breathing and curl up next to Salinger, his mother’s words coming back to me.
For all we know, she’s already pregnant.
It is possible.
And as much as I hope to one day bring another life into this world, I’m not ready for the complications that would ensue now. I already have enough to fear without adding the risk of pregnancy on top of it.
Giles must be my number one priority. Getting him out of whatever prison Salinger’s father has put him in.
His mother seemed adamant that they protect me, no matter the cost. But if that cost is Giles’ life, then she’s going to have a fight on her hands.
I fall back to sleep. This time, a dreamless oblivion meets me and I don’t wake for several more hours.
There are no windows in Salinger’s old bedroom, so when I roll over in bed and my eyes flutter open, the room is still pitch black, except for the red light of a digital clock on the side table.
It’s still early, but as I feel around the bed, I realize that Salinger is gone.
I sit up, jolted awake by the reality.
Where is he?
My heart rate speeds up.
I’ve never spent a whole night at his side before. Never spent as much time with him as I had yesterday. And in some ways, he now knows me better than any of the other men, even though we’ve never been intimate.
It bothers me that he won’t claim me. And even though his confession of love for me to his parents was a shock, I wonder if he didn’t say it to appease them. Another means to protect me. But why protect me if he doesn’t care?
The man is a mystery. One I want to unravel. And I would have by now if things weren’t so damn complicated. I’d have given him the piece of me he’d asked for a long time ago, the truth if I hadn’t thought it would put him at risk.
But now he knows who I am. All fronts are down. I’m exposed. Vulnerable. And yet he still keeps his shield up. And I’m left asking the same questions he was about me.
Who is Salinger Ward?
A small sliver of light rims the doorway. I’m still dressed, too tired last night to change into the oversized t-shirt Salinger found for me.
I slip out of bed and find my shoes, putting them on before slowly opening the door a crack. The hallways are clear, no guards, but I have no doubt there are cameras everywhere.
But I’m not doing anything wrong by leaving Sal’s old bedroom. I’m not a prisoner here. I’m a guest. At least, that’s what his parents would have me believe. We all know the truth. I’ll never be truly free.
Curiosity trumps fear, and I start down the hallway, stopping at a door that I’d seen Salinger glance at with an odd expression last night. I frown, remembering the grief in that look.
After a slight hesitation, I push open the door and walk in, flicking the lights on when I do.
It’s a little girl’s bedroom. I frown as I take in the pink walls
. The framed paintings of unicorns and fairies, and the three-story dollhouse in the corner of the room. The name Hannah is written in purple wooden block letters above the twin-sized bed that’s covered in a fluffy, pale-pink duvet.
It’s so lovely. Nothing like the rooms of my childhood back at Saint Augustine’s. My dormitory was more of an orphanage straight from the pages of a Madeline storybook. Only instead of an Eiffel Tower out the window, there was the Seattle Space Needle poking through the relentless rain.
Salinger never spoke of a sister, but as I pick up the small-framed picture on the dresser and study the two blond blue-eyed children with their arms over each other’s shoulders, I have no doubt that’s who this room belongs, or rather belonged to.
Why had he never mentioned her?
Voices interrupt my thoughts. Two men, getting louder as they approach. I flick the bedroom lights off and hold my breath.
I know Sal’s voice when he says harshly, “I want to see him.”
“He’s half-dead already, he won’t even know you’re there.” It’s the Director that speaks, and my gut twists, because I know they’re talking about Giles. “His death certificate is practically signed. Let it be. He did you a favor by confessing. A way to keep your wife safe.”
“I promised Tia I would fight for him. That I’d do everything in my power to free him.”
“At the expense of her life?”
There’s a short silence.
His father grunts. “I didn’t think so.”
My heart sinks a little because I know no matter what happens, Salinger will choose my life over Giles’.
All my husbands will.
They’d rather an innocent man hang for my crimes then see me harmed. Why can’t they see how that is a worse sentence for me then whatever the Director could do, what my father or Lawson could do? Guilt and grief is the worst punishment of all.
I shift slightly from my position behind the door, and when I do, Salinger looks my way, his brows draw down, and I know that even though I’m hidden in the shadows he knows I’m here, listening. But he doesn’t give me up.
