Chapter 13 #2
Butch steps closer to me, and I have to wonder if he’s afraid I’m about to try to escape him too.
“That was a totally different situation. They’ve increased the security since then, but you never know what’s going to happen.
We can’t be too careful until we understand the full extent of what we’re dealing with.
” He holds my gaze as if he doesn’t know I’m really considering taking off a shoe.
“What they’re willing to do to shut you up.
” His voice gentles. “I know you hate this, but you only have to deal with it a little longer. My sources—”
“Your sources don’t seem to know shit about what’s happening,” I snap.
I can’t believe he kept this from me and I can’t believe he put these people in this position.
“And what I’m dealing with is living in a building with no running water and a hole in the roof while my sister is out there suffering way worse than I am.
” I turn my back on him. Apparently calling me cute doesn’t buy my complacency for very long, because I’m aggravated as hell right now. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”
I walk past Myra and her boyfriend, going straight to the kitchen at the back of their house because I need to put a little distance between me and Butch.
Do all women get like this when they’re attracted to a man? Because I think part of my brain might be melting, and I don’t like it.
Not at all.
I take a seat on one of the barstools lining the kitchen island, letting my elbows rest on the counter as I catch my head in my hands.
“Is everything okay?” Myra sounds… Concerned, maybe? She’s kind of hard for me to read, and I’m too irritated with Butch to try to figure it out.
“No.” I take off my glasses and rub my tired eyes. I will never admit to Butch that maybe I did stare at the screen too long. Not when it turns out he over-promised the safety of this place and kept me in the dark about a super important bit of information. “Everything is awful.”
I take a deep breath before delving into the reason I’m here.
“I came to tell you I’m sorry about the other night.
” I almost stop there, but if these people have dealt with someone invading their home before, they deserve to know the whole truth.
“And that I didn’t tell you guys the full story of why I’m here. ”
Myra slides onto the stool next to me. “What is the full story?”
I slump a little in my seat, hating that I have to explain what happened to Amanda yet again. “There’s a human trafficking ring here in Memphis.” I almost feel like I’m going to cry, and I hate that. “They have my sister.”
Myra’s jaw drops. “What?”
“Yeah.” I wipe at one eye, trying to stop the tears threatening to collect there. “I feel like I haven’t slept since I found out she was gone.” Except last night, but I’m not going to think about that now. It’s too Butch adjacent.
“It’s probably not helping that you’re sleeping in a derelict house.” Myra scrunches her nose. “I understand you feel bad being comfortable when you know your sister’s not, but being miserable won’t help her.”
“It won’t hurt her either.” I pull in a gulp of air, blinking away the burning in my eyes. “And I feel bad enough being here. If anyone does come after me, I sure as heck don’t want them breaking into one of your houses to get me.”
Myra studies me for a second, her gaze appraising. “Why are you telling me all this?”
Initially, it was because I genuinely did want to apologize to her.
I am sorry I had to hit her boyfriend to protect Butch.
But my reasons for confessing the truth of my appearance here are a little more complicated.
Yes, it’s because she deserves to know the full story, but it’s also because I’m a little nervous about telling anyone else.
“You’re one of the only ones here who doesn’t know me.
” I manage a half smile. “And since we’re not friends, I know you won’t just try to feed me bullshit about how everything will be okay. ”
Myra is quiet for a minute as she digests all I’ve told her. Then she says something that shocks me. “You know, my sister had to rescue me.”
My already burning eyes widen, making the sting worse. “From?”
“My ex-husband.” She pulls in a deep breath. “He was abusive in a lot of ways. He hurt me physically. Broke me down mentally. Assaulted and raped me. For years.”
It’s a scenario I know happens often, but one I’ve never fully been able to understand. “Why didn’t you leave?”
“I was raised in a fundamentalist church that worked very hard to suppress women. To make sure we had few options. I didn’t have a driver’s license.
A bank account. Credit card. Nothing. My husband kept all my documents locked up tight.
” She shrugs. “And when he figured out I was going to try to leave him anyway, he took me out into the middle of nowhere and locked me in a cabin where he thought no one could find me.” She leans closer.
“But Lydia found me anyway. She and Christian and Simon and Tate came for me. Saved me when I couldn’t save myself. ”
I’m fully invested in her story. Hanging on every word. Desperate to know all she’ll tell me. “How did she find you?”
“I managed to sneak out and ran like hell.” She sits a little taller in her seat. “I found a spot where Lydia and I played when we were kids and she was able to meet me there.”
That gives me hope. Makes me think I might really find Amanda. “I just wish I knew she was okay. That I could tell her I’m looking for her.” My nostrils flare. “That I’m going to murder every person who did this to her.”
And I’ve already started.
“I’ll help.” Myra smiles sweetly, and it makes me think she’s not as capable of killing as she believes. “I’ve got a lot of feminine rage to get rid of.”
I don’t think she’s equipped to help me—I definitely wouldn’t pick her for my murder squad—but I appreciate the sentiment and don’t want to alienate her right out of the gate, so I just say, “I’d like that.”
I jump a little when the front door flies open and heavy footsteps come thudding our way. Simon races into the kitchen, looking a little wild.
Myra turns toward him, looking worried. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s your phone?” His dark eyes snap around the kitchen.
“I don’t know.” She pats her pockets. “Upstairs maybe? Why?”
He goes toward her, moving fast. “We’ve got to go.”
Myra stands, letting him lead her toward the back door. “Where are we going?”
“The hospital. Lydia’s having the baby.”
They are a whirlwind of activity and in under a minute they’re walking out the back door, leaving me alone in their house.
I take a few minutes to make sure all the doors are locked—and maybe to write down their wifi password because my hotspot sucks—before letting myself out.
Smirking as I cross the street by myself.