CHAPTER FIVE

Wiley, a sprig of a man with straw-colored wisps poking out around from under a baseball cap said nothing the first hour. Not even hello when I threw myself into the chipped backseat of his car and slammed the door with enough force to rattle the rusted frame. He let me cry until I couldn't. Then he dug out a packet of tissues from the glovebox and held it over his shoulder while keeping one hand on the wheel.

"Thank you," I whispered, not sure if he heard it, but too exhausted to repeat.

"You good?"

Tissue tucked under my nose, I shook my head.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured kindly. "Christopher seems to have it all figured out. I'm going to make sure you're okay."

I started to ask who Christopher was when it dawned that Malcolm was using his middle name. It made me wonder just how long he'd been planning this. How methodical he'd had to be to ensure my safety. He was risking everything. His own life if Jarrett even suspected him of double crossing him.

The thought of Jarrett hurting Malcolm, killing him sounded ridiculous in theory, but I had no idea how far Jarrett was willing to go.

Surely not that far, the voice in my head thinks, but it's not sure. I knew firsthand what money did to people.

Malcolm was right about one thing — Jarrett would consider it a personal attack to have waited that long, paid that much, been taunted, and promised only to have the thing stolen from him at the last moment.

My mind flashed back to Malcolm and all I could think was how Jarrett was going to kill my brother. He would do it hoping to scare me. He would do it out of anger and spite. And I would never know. I just left Malcolm back there to face Armageddon without me.

The tissue tore into a million shreds under my trembling fingers. I lost them in the white folds of my lap and the darkness.

"Do you want some music?" The cap cast shadows over his eyes, but they glinted slightly in the mirror.

"If you like," I murmured, my voice hoarse.

I didn't want any music or conversation. I wanted silence and a place to curl up and sleep. But it never mattered what I wanted. It wasn't up to me.

"I don't really care," he mused. "I can drive in silence or if you like a specific station..."

I didn't know any stations. I hadn't heard a single song that wasn't classical and played at Mother's events and performed by a live band.

"You go ahead," I assured him, hoping he would leave me alone. It was a terrible thought when he was being kind, but it was taking all my effort.

"Are you hungry or anything?" he pressed. "We can't stop for a while unless in the case of an emergency, but—" Something lit up at his elbow and an obnoxious tinkling erupted into the silence.

I jumped.

Wiley cursed and reached towards his hip. Plastic rattled before a phone was being placed against the side of his head.

"Wiley!" he barked. "No, I'm busy. I'm handing some family shit..." he trailed off a moment before yelling, "What the fuck do you mean she's in prison? What happened?"

I stayed very still. Very quiet. I tore smaller shreds of my tissue and kept my eyes down. Barely breathing. Giving no one a reason to remember me.

To notice me.

To turn their anger on me.

Still, I flinched when a palm struck the wheel.

"Goddamn it, I'm going to kill her! I told her to stay home and do what other pregnant women did. No, I can't ... I can't. I have..." he broke off to listen some more. "For Christ sakes. Fuck. Yeah, I'll ... I'll be there. Fuck!"

The phone was tossed into the empty seat next to him.

I didn't ask if he was all right. I remained perfectly still.

"So, here's the thing..." he pulled his cap off and rubbed the back of the hand across his brow before stuffing it back over the large, shiny bald spot. "My old lady got herself in a bit of a pickle. She's a feisty thing when she gets worked up and I'm not there to reel her in, you know?"

I didn't. I had no idea why his grandmother would get so worked up.

"Problem is, she's about to pop any day now and she'd kill me if I let her have the baby behind bars ... again. But I made your brother a promise and I'm a man of my word. I'm going to get you to the airport. Only..." he cleared his throat. "I might not be the one who does it."

"You're leaving me with someone else?" I asked, horrified.

"Look, I wouldn't if I wasn't already on thin ice with Carly. That bitch gets extra mean when she's knocked up. But I will find someone reliable. Someone I trust with my life, okay? I'll make sure they know the drill. It'll be fine."

But Malcolm chose you, I want to yell at him. He trusted you. Instead, I watched as he pulled the phone back to him and swiped it on.

He spoke quickly to whoever picked up and a decision seemed to be made. Whatever it was, he didn't bother telling me until I found myself alone in a strange car parked on a dirt road lined on both sides by tall grass. Wiley kicked out of his seat the moment we stopped and stood leaning on the hood, head bent over his lit screen, smoking a cigarette.

Taking advantage of the solitude, I pulled the bag up next to me and tore open the pocket with the Ziploc bag. I yanked out the book with my new life and skimmed as much as I could in the darkness.

Katie Smith.

That was my name for the rest of my life. She was a year younger with blue eyes, my height and build. The passport was absent of stamps. The book was handwritten, by Malcolm, I assumed. It was neat and methodical, just like him. Everything was detailed and listed. But a faint outline in the endless night thick around me.

Accepting I was going to see no more, I closed the book and returned it to the bag. From another pocket, I pulled out a wallet with several pieces of ID and a reasonable amount of cash in different amounts.

I'd never held money before. The paper notes had some weight and roughness. There was also a bank card with Katie Smith written across the bottom. I'd never seen one of those either. Mother held everything. She would have sent them to Jarrett to care for since I had no need for my birth certificate or a bank account in my name. Those were things my husband would handle.

But now, I had one. I was responsible for all my own financial choices. I got to pick what I wanted to eat. Wear. Do. I didn't have to answer to anyone. The absolute freedom terrified me.

Excited me.

I could do so much and yet I didn't know what. I'd never been outside on my own. What if I did it wrong?

My thoughts were paused when a second set of lights cut into our path. They illuminated Wiley, turning his stooped frame into a silhouette. He pushed off the hood and turned to face the newcomers.

Malcolm had trusted Wiley so I knew I could trust him, too, but the tall, thin shadow that stalked his way into view was another matter.

I couldn't see much, except the way he had his hands tucked into his pockets and walked like he'd soiled his pants. Wiley didn't seem happy to see him at all when his raised voice filled the fields, but not clear enough for me to make out. I understood enough to realize this was not the man Wiley had been expecting.

The other man shrugged, and the pair argued for several seconds until Wiley tore off his hat and stalked back to our car.

My car door was wrenched open, and Wiley stuck his long, unshaven face in. "My nephew Taylen is going to take you. He's stupid, but he will get you there."

I didn't want someone stupid to take me anywhere, but Wiley was motioning me out. He didn't attempt to take my bag and I didn't ask him to as I followed him across the short distance to where Taylen slumped against the side of the other car, ankles crossed like he was enjoying a summer afternoon.

"Taylen, you know the rules. No questions. Don't even talk to her. Drive her straight to the airport and drop her off. Once you're done and she's off safely, I will wire you the money."

Taylen was a kid. Barely older than I was with a gap between his front teeth and a clammy face full of pimples on the verge of popping. His murky, gray eyes took me in with an interest I was all too familiar with and immediately felt the need to pull my coat tighter around me.

"Shit, she looks like one of ‘em celebrities bitches," he drawled. "But like when they're going to rehab. Still fuckin hot though."

I didn't understand what that meant, but Wiley slapped him with his hat. "Mind your manners and keep your mouth shut. I don't know what Lenny was thinking sending you when I fucking told him it had to be him, but you're here."

He reached for the backdoor and jerked the handle. It opened with a squeal of rusted hinges. He held it open and ushered me inside.

The cabin reeked.

It boiled with so many various stenches I couldn't even fathom how anyone could stomach it. Cigarettes and cooked meat sprinkled with the sweet stench of rot and human waste. The seats stuck to my palm as I scooted down. A sharp point poked my backside, but I stayed in place, refusing to touch the mountain of filthy rags piled high next to me. Empty cans and boxes caught beneath my heels and something squished. I was ready to throw myself out, but Wiley had already closed the door. He said several heated things to Taylen that seemed to faze the other man little.

It ended quickly when Wiley ambled back to the other car and Taylen was rolling in behind the wheel of ours. He didn't say a word as he turned the keys. A sputtering, grumbling sound filled the cabin, but nothing happened. He turned the key a few more times before it roared to life.

"It's like a woman," Taylen said suddenly. "You gotta stroke her just right."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but his tone made my stomach queasy ... queasier.

Taylen spoke too much and turned the radio up too high and shouted, this is my jam. I always liked peanut butter better, but the music was awful. Loud, screaming slam of drums and something like a bandsaw. It shrieked through the silence until I was certain my ears were going to bleed.

"So, like what's your deal?" he asked, flipping the noise down and studying me through the mirror. "You don't look like the kind of folk my uncle usually transports unless you have a few goodie bags up that tight ass of yours."

I knew better than to respond. I clutched the bag tighter to my chest and focused on the dark span of nothing on every side.

"Do you even talk or are you like deaf or something?"

It did occur to me that I could tell him that if I were deaf, I wouldn't be able to hear his question anyway. He probably meant mute. I didn't have the strength to figure it out.

He scoffed. "You hot bitches are always the same. You think you're better than everyone else. Like, I'm a good guy. I work hard and I got dough. I could spoil you. Get you all the best bags and shit, but you gotta act like you're worth something."

He was getting angry.

I could feel the ripple. The invisible cord of tension tightening in the air. It was the same energy as when Mother had her parties, and the guests drank too much and got too bold.

The car bounced and shuddered across the uneven dirt. The metal rattled violently, the aggressive grind of metal and trembling glass as he took a sharp turn off the path. I nearly slid into the mound of filth next to me.

His words are still snapping around us, tangling with the scream of whatever was coming from the radio, but I could understand enough to feel my skin prickle and my stomach hurt.

Abruptly, he went silent.

Maybe because I wasn't reacting the way he wanted.

Maybe he ran out of words.

But an icy chill had leached into the space that I couldn't keep at bay no matter how close I pressed the folds of my coat together or how tight I hugged my bag to my chest.

Minutes rolled by and the darkness thickened. Rain splattered on the hood and shattered across the windows. The rhythmic patter would have been calming; I had always loved the rain, except my companion took that moment to yank the wheel and pull us off the side of the road. He parked and kicked his door open.

Unease, cold and slimy writhed in the bottom of my core. It prickled my skin and thickened in my throat. I watched him amble towards the trunk and stop in the harsh, red glow of the taillights. It highlighted the side of his face, casting a harsh hue that made him appear almost demonic as he bent his head and undid his pants.

I immediately pivoted in my seat when I realized what he was doing. Mother would have been horrified. She would have scorched him alive right there on the spot. But I sat still and silent like I was taught and waited for this whole nightmare to be over.

The shriek of his zipper coming up scuttled up my spine. The sound much too loud.

I expect him to head straight for the driver's door and get back in, but my door flew open. I barely had time to jump when damp hands closed around my arm.

"Hey!"

My shout was ignored as he pushed me down into the foul mound of moldy fabric. The backpack is wrenched from my hands and pitched somewhere into the front seat.

"Let's see what makes you so special."

It wasn't the first time I'd been attacked by a man. I'd been fending them off since I was thirteen but never alone. Malcolm had always been there to put himself between me and one of our parents' friends. I didn't know how to get a fully grown man off me when I was on my side, my arms and legs pinned by his body. Face pressed into the foul stench coming off the rags.

"Stop it!" I cried, thrashing against his hold.

"This is what stuck up bitches get," he half growled, half chuckled, hands closing around my wrists and pulling them up towards my head. "You need to learn you're not that special. Once you get some dick, you'll—"

His hold on my right wrist slipped and I swiped with manicured, acrylic nails across his face. Digging into his eyes. His howl of pain died with the thump of his skull colliding with the roof of the car.

"The throat, Nay," I heard Malcolm's voice in my head. "Once you distract them, punch them in the throat or the balls. Hard."

My fist was shaky but drove all five fingers into the sharp point of his Adam's apple.

Taylen reared back, stumbling off me into the steady downpour. His filthy fingers clutched at his throat as he hacked and coughed. A wheezing sound emanated from his jugular, muffling the rain and my own slamming heart.

I didn't wait for his senses to return. I crawled free of the car, and I ran. I dove in six-inch heels into uncertain danger. I threw myself into dark nothingness and foliage and rain. Serrated branches cut my face, clawed at my clothes. Protruding roots caught my unsteady feet and sent me crashing loudly through the brush. I stopped only once to unstrap my shoes with cold, trembling fingers and left them abandoned on the forest floor.

Not far behind me, I could hear Taylen crashing in. His attempts were as messy and unsure as mine, but he had the advantage of seeing my bright, white coat from a mile away. Even if I took it off, my dress was white. I couldn't hide. My only hope was to outrun him.

Fabric clung to my legs and skin as rain pelted through the trees and soaked my clothes to my skin. The skirt twisted around my ankles, wet ropes hindering my escape. Sharp stones and biting wood scratched my feet and stubbed my toes.

"This way."

I almost stumbled at the phantom whisper next to my ear. I almost screamed. I pivoted expecting Taylen to have caught up, but I was alone. The darkness was endless.

Heart hammering, lungs burning, I searched my surroundings. I was ready to call out when a light shimmered to life in the distance. Just a flicker. But I moved towards it, praying it was a house. People. A place to hide.

I found a stone wall. High. Impenetrable. Slippery with moss and rain and concealed beneath a thick knot of vines.

Something snapped behind me and I knew Taylen was close. My adrenaline soared with terror and a panic that made me want to throw up. I was shaking uncontrollably as I fumbled along, running my hands across the stone.

"Please. Please," I begged, half sobbed.

Another crack, but to my left. I didn't pause to think when I threw myself over.

A wooden door greeted me. The latch settled in my palm, icy as I pushed myself inside and closed it behind me.

The dirt turned to stone beneath my feet. I was in a courtyard of high walls and a dank stench of rot. It swallowed the fresh pine, damp grass and soil but I didn't stop to admire the changes.

I pushed forward. I crossed and wound my way through the hedges. A sliver of moon guided my path down steep stairs and arrived around sharp corners, moving in no rational direction except to put as much distance between me and Taylen as possible.

But I had no such luck when I hear, "Hey!" from right behind me and turn to just make out his silhouette not ten feet away. My scream escaped without consent, and I spun and ran. I cut strips off my feet as I pounded deeper into the strange maze only to trip and smack into solid ground when stone suddenly turned to grass, and my panicked brain wasn't prepared for the abrupt change in the dark.

The breath from my lungs rushed out in a wheeze. My body fought to get up, to keep going but everything hurt and trembled, and I couldn't recalibrate fast enough before Taylen was on me.

His hand twisted into my coat, and I was wrenched onto my back. Blinded by the rain spearing into my eyes, I didn't see him rip open my coat until the fabric was torn down the front and he was laughing.

"Shit. Look at you under this thing. Going to have some real fun with you."

I kicked weakly at him, but my efforts were met with a backhand that snapped my head back and had my mouth filling with the taste of copper. The world vibrated with a dull ring of bells that numbed everything, except the feel of his hands hiking under my skirt.

"Stop!" I panted, fighting against the digging fingers clawing into my flesh.

My arms were wrenched back and pressed into wet soil. His damp jeans squeezed between my thighs.

I cried out and thrashed, which only seemed to amuse him.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. Scream all you like. No one's going to hear you."

"Get off me! Stop it!"

Taylen laughed. His mouth opened, but the deep, rumbling voice that filled the night wasn't his, nor was the boot that slammed into his face.

"Get the fuck off her."