The Runner's Daughter
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Be on the lookout for book 3 in the Bastards of Corruption series coming summer 2018!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Other Books by Jessica McCrory
About the Author
Get in touch with me!
The Runner’s Daughter
Bastards Of Corruption Book 2
Jessica McCrory
Copyright © 2018 Jessica McCrory
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Be on the lookout for book 3 in the Bastards of Corruption series coming summer 2018!
Other Books by Jessica McCrory
About the Author
Get in touch with me!
Prologue
Three years ago
Willow Charmont sat across the table from her father and pushed the potatoes around on her plate. She hadn’t had much of an appetite in the last fourteen years, and it seemed that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
It was hard to have an appetite when you were twenty-two and trapped under the same roof as a murderer.
“Is the food not to your liking, my willow tree?”
“The food is fine,” she responded curtly. It was looking at his face that caused her appetite to subside.
“Then why aren’t you eating?”
“I don’t have an appetite.”
“Are you feeling ill?”
“No.”
“That’s good to hear. We have an incredibly important dinner tomorrow night.”
“Yes, dinner.” The dinner where she would be promised to the only other man who disgusted her in the same way her father did. Another murderer she would be expected to share a home with.
“You don’t seem excited. Do I need to remind you how important this is?”
“No, of course not. Why wouldn’t I be excited to marry a man responsible for killing innocent people?”
She jerked when her father’s hand hit the table. “You will watch that tongue of yours, Willow. You will be grateful for the opportunity to marry such a wealthy and powerful man.”
“May I be excused?” Willow asked as she tried to keep her calm. Losing her emotions here would only prove humiliating.
He waved her away, and Willow walked up the stairs and into her bedroom. It had been the same since she was a baby. The pink and purple flowers painted on pale pink walls and white frilly curtains her mother had made when she had been born were the only part of the room that didn’t make her want to scream.
The photo of her father smiling next to her just days after her mother had been killed was the worst of it all. She couldn’t even count the times she had thrown the photo away, or hidden it. But like a bad penny, it turned back up anytime she did.
She walked to her window and stared out at the night sky. How much longer was she going to be forced to live this life? How many more times was she going to try and escape only to have her father drag her back into this hell?
She turned when there was a knock on her door. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Housekeeping.” The gruff voice had a smile coming to her face. Alejandro was here. The only light in all this darkness, and the person who would take her away from this nightmare one day.
“Alejandro, what are you--?” She stopped when she pulled the door open and it wasn’t who she expected on the other side. “What are you doing here?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but it broke.
“Lover boy can’t come tonight.”
She tried to ignore the blood on the front of Cooper Sandoval’s shirt. Surely he hadn’t killed Alejandro! “What did you do?” She stepped back as he pushed his way into the room.
“What needed to be done. Boss man can’t have his only daughter being soiled by trash before her wedding night.” He took another step toward her, and Willow backed into her dresser. She opened the drawer slightly and gripped the handle of a blade Alejandro had snuck her last week. “Needless to say, lover boy won’t be soiling anyone, ever.” He let out a booming laugh that struck Willow in the heart.
“You killed him?” she screamed and pulled the blade in front of her. Her hands were shaking with rage and grief, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t loved Alejandro, but she had enjoyed his company, and he was the one who was going to free her from her cage.
“Oh yeah, he’s definitely dead. At least I hope so; otherwise, ouch.” He laughed again. “Tell me, little sapling, what are you going to do with that?”
She winced at the nickname. Her mother had given it to her, and she’d been the only one allowed to use it. Ever.
“Get out of my room.”
“Not until I see what it was Alejandro was so obsessed with. Surely it’s not those bug bites you call tits. There’s barely anything there!”
She could smell the alcohol on his breath. If it were any of her father’s other men, she would have screamed, but her father just loved Cooper. He wouldn’t have any issue with whatever the asshole wanted to do.
“Stop looking so skittish. I have no intention of putting my hands on you, at least not in that way. I'm only here to teach you a lesson about disrespecting my boss in his home.”
“Get. Out,” she warned him again.
“Not until you’ve learned.” He reached out to grab her, and she blocked it. Luckily, Alejandro had also been an excellent fighter; something he had taught her early on.
Cooper may have been larger, but she was faster. Still, speed doesn’t mean much when two-hundred pounds of pissed of muscle corners you. Willow charged and tried to take out his legs with a kick, but was blocked and knocked to the ground with a crack of Cooper’s hand.
“Now we’re talking,”
he sneered.
She fell near the knife and palmed it before he lifted her off the ground. Once she was in the air, she brought the knife down swiftly into his right eye.
He screamed and dropped her. Willow didn’t waste a single second. Tears streaming down her face, she jumped out of her window and into the bushes below, fleeing.
She hid around the corner and waited until the other guards were distracted by Cooper in the house. Once clear, she slipped through the slats in the gate and ran down the street as fast as she could.
Willow Charmont would have to die tonight, she realized as she ran. She pushed on even when her breathing was ragged, even when her lungs burned, and even when she reached the city. She continued running into alleys, down back streets, and in and out of buildings.
She would not look back.
She would not look back.
She did not look back.
1
Jemma hit the gym hard that morning. The nightmares had plagued her most of the night, as they usually did, only this time she wasn’t able to escape and ended up six feet under. Her anxiety was worsening with each passing day, and she knew if she didn’t get it under control, it would eat her alive.
The heavy bag swung on its chain, and Jemma unleashed her rage on it again. She threw her body behind each punch, and before she knew it, she was covered in sweat. She spun and landed one last kick before stepping away to hit the weights.
“Looking good, Jemma.” Mikel Brant, the gym’s trainer, offered a smile as she approached. “Your form is perfect.”
Jemma took a swig from her water bottle. “Thanks,” she replied breathlessly.
“You doing all right?”
“Yeah, just the usual.”
Mikel nodded. She knew Jemma was running from someone, only she assumed it was an abusive ex, not a psychopathic father. Jemma had just never corrected her.
“This helps.” Jemma gestured to the bag and set her water bottle back down.
“Want to spar?” Mikel offered. Jemma nodded.
“That’d be great, thanks.” The heavy bag certainly wore her out, but there was something about fighting another person that made her feel powerful again. And after years of feeling like a victim, she craved the power.
Jemma followed Mikel into the gym’s sparring room and stretched out her already warm muscles. The room was impressive and the best around. Mikel was a resident lightweight champion in kickboxing. That meant she hadn’t spared any expense when it came to outfitting her gym with the best equipment she could find. Jemma had already known the basics, but Mikel had been schooling her on the sport ever since she had moved into the apartment down the street three years prior.
She knew better than to ask Jemma about her nightmares, but was always there to be her sparring partner when the bag just wasn’t cutting it anymore.
“Ready?” Mikel asked, and Jemma nodded. They touched their fingerless gloves together, and moved into their stances.
Jemma held her ground until Mikel surged forward, and then thrust out her right fist in a hook. Mikel dodged it, and Jemma dodged a counter attack. Jemma avoided another kick before landing a fist in Mikel’s side. Jemma took advantage of her opponent’s surprise, and knocked Mikel to the ground with a kick.
“Nice,” Mikel laughed from the mat. Jemma reached down to help her up, and they went back to fighting. It was cathartic for her, and with each contacted fist, she felt her anxiety slowly leaking away until both she and Mikel were laying on the mat sucking in ragged breaths.
“You ever wanna go pro, you let me know,” Mikel said with a laugh.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Jemma smiled and stood. “I’m gonna go hit the weights.”
“Do you ever rest?”
“I’ve got goals, Mikel,” she said lightly and headed toward the main floor. Goals to not let myself get killed.
She had spent the last three years holed up in the same apartment, implementing backup plan after backup plan just in case she was discovered. One day she was going to bring his entire life crashing down around him, just like he had hers. Jemma racked the weights and proceeded to ignore the men sending glances and half waves her way. They hit on every single woman in this place, and she had no time for it.
She worked herself until her muscles felt like jelly, and then drank the chocolate peanut butter protein shake she had brought with her. After finishing it, she went to find Mikel.
“I’m headed home.”
“See you tomorrow?”
Jemma nodded.
“If you need me before then, you can call. I gave you my cell number.”
“I know, thanks.” Jemma didn’t bother to tell her she didn’t own a cell phone. They were too risky, and she was afraid a landline would be just as traceable.
Sweaty and exhausted, Jemma made her way out of the gym, her bag strapped to her back. As she was stepping through the door, she made the mistake of looking down for just a second, and found herself smacking into a hard chest.
She brought her fists up, ready to defend herself, and was met with the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.
“Hey!” The man threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it.”
She slowly lowered her fists, but eyed him warily. Past experiences taught her to never trust strangers. “Sorry about that,” she offered and continued past him.
“Hey, wait up!” She turned to see the man following her. “I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He held his hand out. “I’m Caid.”
“Jemma,” she said easily.
“Nice to meet you, Jemma. Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said with a smiled and headed into the gym.
Rattled, she turned away and made the short walk to her apartment building. The second the lock clicked behind her, she let out a breath. Being out in the real world always scared her. You never knew who was watching or what their motives were.
She pulled the bag off her shoulder, but a knock at her door had her hands wrapping around the butt of the gun in her waistband.
“Who is it?” she asked cautiously, making her way over to the door to look through the peep hole.
“Maria!” her neighbor called. Jemma relaxed slightly and cracked the door, leaving the security chain in place.
“What is it?”
“Just wanted to see if you were up for a little girls’ night tonight?” Maria’s chocolate-brown eyes watched her hopefully, and Jemma felt a pang of guilt. She was always turning the woman down.
“I’m actually busy tonight,” she said with an apologetic smile. “Rain check?”
Maria’s mouth turned into a pout, and she sighed, “Oh, come on! Take a night off.”
Jemma hesitated for a moment. What could it hurt? “All right,” she said easily.
Maria clapped her hands together and jumped up and down. “Yay! I’ll be by to pick you up at eight!”
They were going out? She couldn’t be out after dark! “Wait--”
“See you then, senorita!” Maria called and shut her door across the hall before Jemma could get another word out.
Jemma felt the panic setting in as she shut the door. She sank to her knees to try and regulate her breathing. It will be okay, she thought to herself, no big deal. Just a night out with another woman. Nothing to be worried about. It’s been three years, and he hasn’t found me. She tried to steady her mind, but the panic continued to close in on her.
She grabbed her bag and rushed back outside, bounding down the stairs. She refused to take anything that would dull her senses, so she relied on exercise to help her. The only problem with that was she had to make it to the gym before full on panic took over and she ended up curled in a ball on the street.
Jemma rounded the corner and ran into the gym, straight for Mikel, who was currently working with a client.
“Can you spar?” Jemma asked quickly. She was too far gone for the bag to do the trick.
“I can in about forty-five. Can yo
u work the bag until then?” Mikel put her hand on Jemma’s arm, her silent apology as she tried to not embarrass her distressed friend in front of the client she was working with.
Jemma nodded, hiding her irritation. Mikel wasn’t at her beck and call; the bag would simply have to do for now. She turned to head toward the training room.
“I can spar with you,” a familiar voice sounded behind her. Jemma turned to see the man she had run into earlier.
She started to shake her head, but stopped. It really didn’t matter who she sparred, she just needed the release, so she nodded instead.
“Go easy on him, Jemma,” Mikel joked as Caid followed Jemma into the training room.
“How experienced are you?” Caid asked her as he pulled his sparring gloves out of his bag.
“Experienced enough,” Jemma said stepping onto the mats.
“All right.”
They touched gloves, and Jemma immediately attacked. She didn’t have the time to wait for him. He blocked one fist, but her other contacted with his side.
“Nice,” he commented and blocked her next one. He blocked another, and then connected to her stomach.
Thank goodness, he wasn’t trying to go soft on her.
They continued fighting until they were both dripping sweat and could hardly stand. Caid had proven to be a great opponent, even tougher than Mikel. Probably because he was a lot stronger than her. She was going to be aching for days. And the best part was, she was too exhausted to feel the panic that had been threatening to drag her down when she stepped into the gym.
“You are damn good,” he said as he pulled his gloves off and collapsed onto the mat next to her.