Chapter 11

11

VALERIE

A cacophony of gunshots echoes and reverberates throughout the warehouse. All the while, the man who took me captive sits behind the warehouse manager’s desk with a shit-eating grin on his skinny face.

“All this bloodshed has to make a man wonder what’s so special about you,” he says, like I have any idea what this is about.

“What do you want with me?” It’s the only question that comes to mind. I don’t expect an answer, but I’ll accept anything he gives.

“You?” He raises a brow and steeples his fingers. “Nothing. You’re inconsequential. I want Reed, and you were the easiest way to get him here.”

“Why me? I barely know him.” I’ve felt a host of emotions since I was brought into this office. Panic, anger, fear. Each, in turn, has bubbled and boiled down to nothing but the cold numbness of acceptance. I have no control over what’s going to happen, and the only thing I can do is pray that Reed gets me out of here safely.

“And yet he follows you around like a lost little puppy.” The man scoffs.

So, it was him in the mall? Why knowing that makes my heart swell when I’m in actual danger, I don’t know, but I can’t help but let the warmth wash through me.

“And even knowing that certain death awaits, Reed Murphy powers through and fights through scores of my men to get you out safely,” the man adds.

Reed killing someone is the reason I’m in this mess. It’s what made me run away from him, and now I find myself begging him to slaughter as many as it takes to get me away from here. It’s a funny thing coming to grips with the hypocritical nature of my situation. Like Reed said, it was them or him. Now it’s us and them, and I choose us.

The final shots ring out, and I hear heavy footsteps on the metal staircase leading up to the office. My captor draws a pistol from somewhere underneath the desk and fixes it on me.

“I’d love to continue our chat, but it’s showtime. Just know, it’s nothing personal. This is just the way things have to be.”

As the words leave his lips, the office door swings open. Reed stands in it with his pistol cupped in both hands and the nozzle fixed on my captor.

“I’m disappointed, Alfonso. I expected a welcoming parade to bring me straight to you,” Reed says. His tone doesn’t resonate with the intensity that burns in his golden eyes.

Streaks of red run down his body, with splotches dotting his gray pants.

“I knew you’d find your way,” Alfonso smiles. “Where’s my money, Reed?”

“Put the gun down, and I’ll tell you,” Reed says.

“Do you honestly think you call the shots here? Tell me where my money is, or I’ll kill her.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But how do I know you won’t pull the trigger once I have?” Reed asks. With his question comes the first time he looks away from Alfonso and to me. His eyes carry the apologies, but his mouth can’t speak.

A feeble smile crosses my lips. He’s here, risking his life to save me. Whatever his past holds is for him and God to discuss someday, far in the future, when he crosses over. Right now, he’s the only person I want in this room with me. My hero, my monster, my damned savior.

“You don’t. But it’s the best chance you’ve got.” Alfonso leans back in his chair, and it squeals the whole way down. He kicks his legs onto the desk and gets comfortable as though waiting for story time before a nap.

“The money’s in a boat two miles up the shore.”

“Too easy. I don’t believe you,” Alfonso sighs. “You know, Reed, if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a liar. Sadly, because of that, I have to put a bullet in her pretty fucking hea?—”

Before Alfonso can finish his sentence, Reed squeezes the trigger. The bullet strikes Alfonso in the chest, and the sheer impact of it sends him hurtling off his chair. As his body hits the floor with a satisfying thud, I drop to the ground and start crawling over to Reed.

Reed fires another shot toward the desk. And then a third, but no noise comes from behind the desk.

He helps me to my feet and pulls me into a tight hug, turning his back toward the desk and using himself as a shield if Alfonso manages to lift himself.

Down the stairs, my father is waiting. He looks at Reed, cradling me against his body, and up at the office where I was kept.

“The man upstairs is Alfonso Cipriani, head of the Italian mob out of Philadelphia. His crimes range from murder to drug trafficking and weapon smuggling. I don’t expect you to take him in exchange for me, but it’s a peace offering for the trouble I’ve caused you and your family,” Reed says, never releasing his grip on me.

And I never want him to. When I ran from his home, it was because I felt scared. But it was when I was a captive under Alfonso that I realized Reed never had any ill intent for me. Though I discovered the truth, he was still the same man I broke in the confessional. Who sent me to a new plane of pleasure in my father’s kitchen. Who claimed me in the churchyard cottage.

I didn’t then, but I know it now. I still want him. Need him. Even if he isn’t a man of faith.

Dad inhales deeply, exhaling in a sigh.

“People are going to think I’m crazy, standing in a warehouse full of dead bodies and talking to myself.” He turns away from Reed as his lower lip quivers before the next sentence gets out. “I sure hope the man who took my daughter takes care of her because if I meet him again, I’ll bring down the nine circles of hell on his ass. I’ll make him wish he got a cozy prison cell instead of my fury.”

Reed smiles. Dad won’t say it directly, but he isn’t going to stop us from running. As much as it burdens him, Dad won’t arrest the man who saved his little girl.

“I’m sure both the man who took her and your daughter are thankful for the opportunity. Hell, who knows? Maybe they’ll see you again someday on some sunny island in the middle of nowhere. It’s in God’s hands now,” Reed finishes.

He takes my hand in his, and together, we run—back through the warehouse and out into the night. We giggle and laugh and pretend that everything is okay as we ride off onto our next adventure.