“You know hers?”
“Yeah, um . . . damn it . . . uh, Serena?”
“Ah, Deon’s woman.”
Sunny snapped and pointed at me. “Yes!”
I should have known when Sunny said she was a talker. “Deon would kill her if he knew she was working corners on Seventh Street. But that won’t help me much right now.”
“No, but don’t forget she and Deon got three kids. Before RJ finally got tired of putting up with her, she made him take her to the prison every Sunday to go see Deon. I’d bet she still goes to see him, and RJ knows where she lives. I would say she’s worth a visit, if you understand what I mean. She’s not someone who can keep her mouth shut.”
“All right, I get it.”
He stood and leaned close to me. “I’m sorry about your girl, man. I really am. I’ll help you with what I can, I’ll make some calls and I’ll see what other people know about Juarez. But don’t show up at my house anymore like this, people are going to start thinking something’s up, understood?”
“Completely, I appreciate it.”
We exchanged numbers before he opened the door and yelled for RJ to join us. After finding out where Serena lived, and a few more displays of authority for his territory by Sunny for the members of his crew, I left the same way I’d come. Quiet, and hidden by the shadows.
10
Rachel
MY EYES FLEW OPEN and I heard the sound of heavy breathing fill the small room. Trying to keep my breathing even so I wouldn’t give myself away, I barely turned my head from where it had been smashed in my arms to look over toward the door. Terrified of what I might see, and who might be there, I almost cried out in relief when I could make out Taylor’s form doing push-ups.
I stayed quiet as I watched him silently work out and wondered if he did this every night while I was sleeping. He had to be doing something, because his massive frame never seemed to change over the course of my time here in this room, and a part of me felt bad that he was resorting to this rather than using the equipment in his room.
“Go back to sleep,” he said roughly, never once stopping from the crunches he was now doing.
Instead of following his command, I let my earlier curiosity bubble out. “Do you do this every night?”
“Yep.”
“Why don’t you use the equipment in your room?” I bit my lip as I waited for his response, remembering how this conversation had gone over last time.
“I already told you.”
“But I could stay in there with you, and then when you’re done, we could come back here.” Did I sound as desperate as I felt to sleep on that bed?
He stopped suddenly and turned to look at me in the dark. “Are you trying to make something happen? Do you want to put yourself in more danger than you are already in? Unless we have to, we aren’t leaving this room,” he snapped, and I flinched.
“No,” I whispered and felt my cheeks burn at the tone in his voice.
“Shit”—he sighed and crawled toward the mattress—“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that, but I don’t understand why you keep pushing the issue. I know you know the danger is real. I can see the fear in your eyes every damn day, so I don’t get why you keep bringing it up.”
“I feel bad that you’re making yourself so uncomfortable to make sure I’m safe. And I know that’s stupid, I shouldn’t feel bad because of what you did. But then when I think that, I can’t figure out for the life of me why, if you would steal me from my home and my life, would you suffer so much to make sure I’m safe?”
Taylor just stared at me, and when I thought he wouldn’t answer, I turned my head back into my crossed arms and shut my eyes.
“Because you didn’t do anything to warrant this, and you deserve to have someone protecting you in this fucked-up situation.”
My head snapped back up and I turned to look at him, my mouth open to ask him—again—what I was doing here, and why I was here; but I knew those were questions he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, answer.
“Just go back to sleep,” he pleaded, cutting me off and crawling back to his spot on the floor before starting up his crunches again.
What kidnapper says something like that? What kidnapper protects his captive for that matter? Everything that had happened so far was flashing through my mind, and none of it made sense. His presence alone was terrifying, but I wasn’t sure if that made me feel safer from the others, or if I still feared him. The way he’d been so quick to apologize when he’d yelled at me just added to the confusion and mystery that was Taylor.
I didn’t understand him, and at the time, I didn’t know if I ever would. But as I had been so many times in the week since he’d shown up with new clothes and other things for me, I was thankful for him.
PAIN THREATENED TO CRIPPLE ME as I impulsively struggled against the handcuffs. I screamed against the gag when Blake moved the blade from my left arm, and slowly ran the scalpel down the inside of my right. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I watched him begin to methodically move the blade over my stomach, a smile on his deceptively handsome face the entire time.
“Not my Rachel,” he whispered. “You don’t deserve her beauty.”
I continued screaming, my body wanting nothing more than to escape the intrusion. But Blake’s weight on my hips, and the sickle curving around my throat, prevented any movements other than my arms, which were chained to the iron headboard.
Blood trickled steadily from my arms onto my shoulders and in my hair. I tried begging him to stop, but all that came out was wordless screams. My vision was darkening as I watched the deep red liquid pooling on my stomach. I needed to stay awake; I refused to let myself believe I would die like this. Kash would find me, I just had to keep repeating that to myself.
“Not my Rachel,” he repeated again.
His arm moved up, and I gave up on my futile attempt at shrinking back into the bed as he moved the scalpel from my hairline to my jaw, the blade staying close to my face, but never coming in contact.
“You could have been mine. You were always meant to be mine. Why couldn’t you be her?”
Another muffled scream tore through me when the blade pressed into my chest.
“Wake up! Stop—fuck! Wake up!”
“Stop, please! Get off me!” I screamed, and thrashed wildly. Another curse came from him when I connected with his face again.
“Wake up!”
My eyes flew open and blinked quickly against the blinding light in the room to find Taylor directly above me. He’d grabbed at my arms to pin my wrists down above my head, the other was pressing down on my hips to keep me from bucking against him.
“Get off me,” I pleaded hoarsely. Taylor’s form blurred as tears gathered in my eyes, and eventually fell.
When I could see him again, I noticed his dark eyes fixed on my chest, a look of horror on his face. Slowly, his eyes went up to where my arms were being held down. They widened marginally, and bounced back and forth a few times before coming down to rest on my face.
“Please let me go.”
His face morphed into an expression I didn’t understand as he released me and sat back on the ground. I quickly pulled at the large shirt I was wearing to cover my chest. The V-neck collar wasn’t deep and usually hid the scarred MINE; but I knew with it being stretched down, he’d seen it just then.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “You were screaming this time, and I—I just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry.”