AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Christ.
The thought makes me shiver as I stalk along the warehouse, going as quietly as I can. As for hideouts…
I think I know just the place.
I make it to the end of the building and check for suspicious movement or hulking shapes of men lurking. The coast seems clear, but just in case I opt for a detour behind a dumpster and a low fence, crouching down to keep from being seen.
Reaching the office building, I circle around the back, to a door with an old-fashioned lock. I have the key to this one.
Hey, I did say I know this place like the palm of my hand, right? And I have insider information.
There’s no access from here to the rest of the building, and Dad wanted me to have a place to wait and do my homework if he wasn’t around when I came here after school sometimes.
Feels like two lifetimes ago.
It’s the door to a kitchenette that’s been out of use in the past few years. It’s more of a storage room now, full of papers and folders. You’d think my father never entered the electronic age.
Oh God, Dad… what have you done?
Maybe there’s a good explanation for all this, I think as I punch in the code. Maybe he was forced into it. Maybe he doesn’t really know who is being kept in the warehouse and what is being done to him.
Maybe he was blackmailed into this.
Or maybe he wants power and money, like Hawk insists he does—although right now I don’t believe any of it. And I’m angry at him, angry at my dad, angry at all the stupid men around me.
I close the door silently behind me, lock it, and sigh with relief. There’s a bench and a table among the paper stacks, and I lie down on the bench, looking up at the ceiling in the dark. The only light comes from a small window over the door.
What am I going to do?
I could stay out of it, like Hawk told me to. I could walk away and leave him to finish whatever it is he started. I owe him nothing, he doesn’t owe me, either—but the image of him with his face in his hands and my name on his lips before I left won’t let me rest.
Like a veiled plea underneath the bravado. A despair beneath the cockiness.
What exactly is he playing at? Is he really going to join this shady Organization and become no better than the guys torturing him right now? What is this plan he mentioned?
Hawk’s a crazy guy. Riding his motorcycle at breakneck speed through town, having sex in public, hiding who he is behind his leather-clad, bad-boy persona.
I don’t trust him not to get himself killed over some stupid bet or business deal. It’s like he needs something from these people and won’t leave until he gets it.
The guy who put his parents behind bars to take their place in this Organization.
Or who put them behind bars because they were in the Organization—and now? Is he trying to put more people behind bars?
I sit up on the narrow bench, gather in my knees and hug them. “Shit.”
Is that what he’s doing? Trying to get a confession out of these people? Maybe the police already know about this and that’s why they haven’t been looking for him? Is he working with the cops?
In that case, I should really get out of his way. Shit, I’ve probably been jeopardizing his plan, his safety, by hanging around.
But what if… what if it’s not that? What if I’m wrong, and there’s nobody out there who knows where he is and what is happening?
What if I’m the only one who could can help him—or get him killed while trying? And why would the fact he said my name ever be enough to make me care?
***
After a meager dinner on whatever I was able to scrounge up in the mostly unused kitchenette—a package of soda crackers and a glass of water from the tap—I undo my bra, because it’s frigging killing me, and lie down.
I fall asleep almost immediately, but it’s not restful sleep. I wake up time and again with a feeling of suffocation and terror. Maybe there’s not enough air in here.
