Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  Taking out his phone, he snapped several photos of Alicia’s living conditions, then fired them off to the tech department at his company with orders to file them safely. He added a list of names for Anarchy to contact and demand meetings with—everyone from the health and safety department to social services.

  With the first step in destroying the sad excuse for a rehab center complete, Atticus shoved his phone away and approached the bed slowly. Crouching low so he wouldn’t scare her, he set his hand lightly on a frail shoulder. “Alicia. Alicia, you need to wake up, princess.”

  She was almost her sister’s double, he thought sadly. They both had black hair, although some fucking asshole had damn near shorn Lisha’s down to the scalp. Her pale skin illuminated the dark shadows under her eyes. They possessed the same bone structure, the same nose, the same shape of the mouth.

  But Bodie’s face carried the glow of happiness and pregnancy, despite the turmoil she and Braun faced in the remaining weeks. Her ghosts no longer haunted her, not the way they tortured Alicia. She was strong and brave, brilliant and beautiful in survival.

  The shell Lisha had become was brittle and broken. Ravaged to the bones by grief and guilt, torn into pieces by loneliness and depression.

  Atticus lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing the backs of his fingers over it until she stirred and blinked open amazingly blue eyes clouded with resignation. She’d given up, handed herself over to fate for whatever came next in a long line of tragedies in her short life. “Hey there, princess. Time to go home.”

  Cracked lips parted. Her voice croaked out, quiet and lost. “Don’t have a home. No one wants me.” Her head rolled slightly, pressing his fingers closer to her skin. “Go away, Atticus. Forget about me.”

  “Like hell,” he snapped back. Getting to his feet, he almost tore the room apart until he found her suitcase wedged under the bed. Pulling it out, he unzipped it and threw it on the floor. “You don’t belong here, Lisha. You never did.”

  In five minutes flat, he’d packed the entire contents of the drawers and the stash of discarded things from the corner. He checked every nook and cranny, and when he had everything of hers, he zipped the case closed and hung it off the back of her wheelchair before guiding the chair toward the bed.

  “I didn’t want you to come,” she whispered forlornly. “Didn’t want you to see.”

  “Yes, well, I’m here and I’ve seen, princess. I should spank you for a fucking week for hiding this from us. Not that we’re without blame,” he added with a scowl. “We should’ve been keeping an eye on you, not letting you push us all away so you can die on a pitiful excuse of a bed. That ends right now.”

  “Just a burden,” Alicia mumbled when he slipped his hands beneath her body to lift her. Embarrassment stained her cheeks red as he encountered cold, wet sheets. She winced when he scooped her up gently and sat her in the wheelchair.

  He caged her in the chair, gripping the armrests and leaning down to give her a hard stare. “Never a burden, Lisha. If I have to take you apart and put you back together before you realize that, then so be it.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he didn’t force the connection, not now. “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  On alert, Atticus maneuvered the chair from the room and into the hallway. He pushed her along, keeping his eye on the closed doors. While he didn’t expect to be attacked physically by anyone, he didn’t have time for a confrontation. The mood he was in, he’d probably take the first obnoxious prick who tried to stop him from leaving with Alicia and cram the asshole into the nearest small space.

  Of course, the orderly with the meal trolley was just exiting a room as Atticus steered the chair around the corner. Sharp brown eyes met Atticus’s, widened in surprise, then dropped down to Alicia. The guy’s face hardened as he took a step forward. “I don’t have any notifications to say Ms. McGee is leaving us today.”

  Atticus lifted his eyebrow. “How strange. Your notifications must have gone the same way as the phone calls we received to say how badly Alicia has been faring here. Huge failure of duty to your patients, is it not, to leave them lying in their own piss, starving to death?”

  The orderly blanched, weighing up Att’s size and weight, and finding himself sadly lacking in comparison. “Let me call my supervisor—”

  “Oh no, my boy. I’ll be talking to more than just your supervisor, trust me. As will the police, social services, and every other department I can drag in here to witness the neglect.” He reached out and slammed his fist into the door the orderly had just closed, sending it flying open to reveal an elderly lady with an infected stump instead of an arm, trying to balance her tray on her knees. “I’m going to ensure they shut this hellhole down, and every single member of staff who has perpetuated this misery will see the inside of a prison cell.”

  “I-I-I—”

  “Come on, princess. We have a lot to do today.” Leaving the orderly looking as though he’d been physically punched, Atticus pushed his charge toward the elevators, cringing at the thought of taking another ride in the box of death.

  “You’re a scary man, Atticus,” she whispered, barely audible over the hum of wheels on the carpet.

  “Intimidating, Lisha. That was me being intimidating—you’ll know when I’m scary.” He cursed as his phone rang, hitting the elevator button before answering the call. “Yeah.”

  “Mind telling me what the hell I’m looking at here, Atticus?” Anarchy fired back without preamble. He could picture her at her desk, her fingers drumming on the wooden top as she waited for an answer, her headset perched on her blonde head. She’d been a fast hire, more of a lure to bring Jasper onto the team, but she was proving to be an excellent addition herself. “Because these photos look like something I don’t want to know about.”

  “Did you make the calls, Archie?”

  “Yeah, yeah. All the parties you tagged to be informed have been. I might have added a little extra incentive by telling them if they didn’t get their asses moving before the end of day, those photos would be distributed to the media. The authorities are coming to you now.”

  The door rolled open into the yawning pit of doom. Refusing to cross his chest like a steadfast Catholic, he got Alicia inside and turned to press the button, noting the orderly had gotten over his shock and was also on the phone. “Including the police?”

  “Well, you didn’t specifically request the cops, but after contacting the others, I figured they’d be a good backup resource. They had a couple of squad cars not far from the facility, so they’re on route. Atticus…” The sassy little sub blew out an uncertain breath. “I recognize the address. That’s where Alicia’s staying, isn’t it?”

  “Not anymore. I need you to keep this to yourself, Archie. Braun and Bodie don’t need to know about it just yet, neither does Connie. They’re going to want to rush over and fuss,” he said, understanding the inherent need to pamper the wounded—after all, his Daddy Dom was eyeing Lisha up as a little candidate. “I’ll tell them once I get her home and settled.”

  Jasper’s kitten squealed excitedly. “You’re bringing her home? Finally!”

  The elevator clunked onto the ground floor and the door rattled open. “Gotta go.”

  This time, there was most definitely a welcoming committee waiting for him, blocking the exit. Atticus headed for them, sizing up the pair of puny guards he could roll into compact balls and use for basketball practice. They weren’t a threat, and judging by the wariness in their eyes, they knew it.

  The couple in power suits, however, were made of stronger stuff.

  “This is kidnapping, Mr. Heisler. I’m assuming that’s your real name, and not a fake identity you’ve used to gain access to a private facility.” The woman—tall, redhead, a little curvy on the hips and chest—shook her hair back and scowled at him. “You do not have permission to remove Ms. McGee from the premises.”

  Alicia made a little noise of resignation, obviously thinking she would be left to her fa
te in a small room stinking of urine.

  Att stroked his hand over her shoulder, down her upper arm. “Mmmn-hmm, and who are you?”

  “Deliza Nathans. I’m in charge of day-to-day operations here.”

  “Well, Alicia is an adult who came here of her own volition, and you’re no longer in charge of her care. There are no laws keeping her here, and you have no authority to do so. You will, however, have the right to remain silent once the cops arrive.”

  “The police?” The redhead’s considerably shorter companion spluttered, shooting an alarmed look at his superior. The woman was in charge, no question. “Why would you call the police?”

  “Quiet, Reginald,” she snapped, slicing her hand through the air without looking at him. Annoyance radiated from her as she glared at Atticus with hot, green eyes. “I’m sure this can be dealt with in-house, without dragging the authorities into our business.”

  “Too late, Ms. Nathans. Your business is making money off the cruelty and imprisonment of people trapped by their disabilities. People who should be learning to adapt to their conditions and living the best life they can—as you damn well promised—are nothing more than animals in cages.” He raked his eyes over her from hair to shoes, his lip curling in disgust. “Between the suit, jewelry, and those ostentatious heels, you’re wearing a little over thirty grand. That’s less than the combined total income of every patient in here for a single month. Throw in the fancy car you no doubt drive, the house you live in, and I’m guessing the cops are gonna have a field day accumulating the fraud charges for you and your tiny bald friend.”

  Said tiny bald friend almost had a heart attack on the spot.

  “Boys, please escort Mr. Heisler into the office so we can discuss this further in private, and ask someone to come take Ms. McGee back to her room. Mr. Heisler…Atticus,” Nathans all but purred, going for a seductive tone. “Why don’t we lower our hackles and talk this over? There’s really no need to involve anyone else in this matter—we’re in the middle of a staff overhaul, for obvious reasons. Finding good, attentive carers and therapists in quantity is not an easy task.”

  Atticus had the distinct feeling that if he stepped inside the office, he’d be greeted with the muzzle of a small-caliber gun in his face—if the bitch was brave and didn’t try a sneaky execution-style hit. “Talk it over with the cops. I’m taking Alicia home. I suggest you step aside,” he murmured when none of them moved—well, none but the pint-sized, hairless coward. “Move.”

  When the situation remained in a standoff, Atticus just shrugged his massive shoulders. “Have it your way.” With one last reassuring squeeze on Lisha’s shoulder, he drove the wheelchair straight at the blockage.

  Nathans and Reginald moved swiftly out of the way when they realized he was prepared to mow them down, but the two guards were calculating how to obey their superior’s orders and gain some brownie points.

  He let them get hold of his arms. Operative word, let. He released his hold on the chair handles so Alicia wouldn’t get jerked around, then literally batted the guy clinging to his right arm aside. It required very little effort, but stopping himself from breaking the weakling’s neck took a little more control.

  The idiot on Att’s left held on tighter, the expression on his face one of determination. Good for him. There had to be some things a man was willing to fight for, even if it was the wrong damn thing for his health.

  Catching the younger man around the throat, Atticus lifted him off his feet, ignoring the fists bouncing off his forearm and biceps. “Bad career choice.” Instead of tossing the guy into the wall next to his friend, Att dropped him. “Go back to college before you end up paying the price for these assholes.”

  “Mr. Heisler!” the redhead demanded shrilly.

  Atticus ignored her. The cops and other authorities would be in charge of this mess—he’d exposed it, and now he was stepping clear. It wasn’t a case Heisler Security could take on anyway—what happened next would come down to the law and its complexities.

  God knew he had enough shit to deal with without adding this clusterfuck to the schedule. Russians, Jasper’s parents, and at least a dozen other projects were keeping him busy enough as it was. He just thanked God that the mess with Connie and Thane had been wrapped up in its entirety and they could get on with their relationship, unlike Jasper who was still looking over his shoulder.

  To his surprise, Alicia’s arm lifted and tried to push open the door leading outside when they were close enough, but she couldn’t reach the handle. His heart broke when her hand dropped back into her lap, her fingers linking together.

  He could hear the panicked whispers behind him as he wheeled her into fresh air and sunlight, completely unbothered by the fact the two suits were wound tight enough to implode. They’d chosen money over the comfort, health, and wellbeing of the ones they were supposed to be taking care of—let them stew over the consequences of their actions.

  Halfway across the parking lot, Alicia whispered. “Stop. Please.”

  “I want you away from here, princess.”

  “Me too. But…the sun.” She tipped her head back and offered her face to the brightness, oblivious to the temperatures cooking the asphalt. Sweat beaded along her forehead, ran down her temples, but she just soaked in the rays with her eyes closed, and sighed. “It’s warm.”

  Atticus gave her five minutes. Denying her a simple pleasure wasn’t in his power in that moment, not when there was a glimmer of peace relaxing the strain around her eyes. It was tempting to touch her, to just hold her hand so she knew she wasn’t alone, but he resisted.

  When the first patrol car drove into the parking lot, he knew it was time to move. He wasn’t surprised when one of the officers came over to speak with him. After a short explanation of the situation, flashing his I.D. and handing over one of his business cards so the cops could contact him for a statement, Atticus steered the wheelchair over to his truck and lifted Alicia into the passenger seat, fastening her in with the seatbelt.

  The chair went into the bed of his truck, secured by a single strap through the armrests.

  “They didn’t ask any questions about me,” Alicia said quietly when Att slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “I thought they would.”

  “The cops? They will, princess. They’ll have to. This is just the first step in getting everyone in there safe, with the right medical care. I doubt it will be resolved quickly.” Putting the truck in gear, he swung around and headed for home, passing another car entering the lot. “You’re not to worry about it. Let the authorities deal with the mess, and just focus on what we need to do to get you well again.”

  She laughed bitterly. “A new spine?”

  “Medical advances have been proven to improve spinal damage. We can look into that if you like.”

  “Do you have to tell Bodie? And Connie?”

  “You know we do. They love you, Lisha. This is going to hurt them.” He patted her hand gently, keeping his eyes on the road. “Sending you there was meant to give you and Connie a break, offer you a chance to regain some independence. All any of us wanted was to make you happy.”

  She made a soft, sad sound that wedged guilt under his sternum. It surprised him that she hadn’t thrown accusations at him, hit him with blame and the weight of what she’d suffered. As far as he was concerned, she had every right to express her feelings on the matter and, as the only handy target in range, he was willing to take the brunt.

  But when Att glanced at her, she was asleep. Genuinely, he thought with a tilt of his head. Her chin touched her chest, her head wobbled with the motion of the truck. Poor little girl was exhausted down to the bones.

  Switching the radio on low, he concentrated on driving and getting her home safely, while his brain formulated strategies for breaking the news to the others without causing too much damage.

  *

  Freedom was beautiful.

  The night she’d killed her parents, she’d changed her worl
d. Not just upside-down, but inside-out, topsy-turvy, and flipped on its axis. She had taken her life in her hands and made it better than it had been in the twelve years since her accident left her immobile from the waist down.

  That first taste of real freedom had been…inspiring.

  No Abraham to smack her around and threaten her with gang rape and mutilation. No Diane to take her disability payments every month and lecture Alicia on how she owed them. The tally rose with every month that passed, until she’d begun to fear her parents would auction her off to the highest bidder just to recoup her debt.

  There was speculation about the kind of abuse her parents had subjected her to while she was trapped in the wheelchair—she was smart enough to pay attention while ignoring the gossipers, keeping her head down, and holding the truth close to her chest where it couldn’t be used against her.

  But that moment in the parking lot, with the sun on her face and the heat rising to warm her frozen bones…it reminded her there was something to live for outside of her cell. There was light and fresh air, birdsong and warmth.

  Alicia knew she’d have died on that urine-soaked bed, alone and unloved.

  Alone and unloved seemed to be the theme of her existence.

  It took a few moments for her to realize the purr of the big black truck had stopped, along with the subtle vibrations of the engine. It was the lack of noise and movement that jerked her from a doze, but despite the quiet, she wasn’t the only occupant in the truck.

  Atticus watched her, his massive body twisted in his seat to face her as he stroked his thumb thoughtfully over his lower lip. He looked like a mountain man, all lumberjack body and thick black beard with little silver flecks.

  He’d said he wasn’t scary, just intimidating, but those eyes of his tipped the scales into formidable. Green, like a dark and mossy jungle, they were a weapon all on their own—one he was skilled in using to the highest level.

  Alicia’s breath caught as she read something foreign and…intriguing in his gaze, before he brought the shutters down. Twining her fingers together nervously, she suddenly found her ragged fingernails absolutely fascinating.