Chapter 10
Aspen
Discovering that someone you thought was gone is actually alive is insane. I don't know if it's the idea that he's been out there this whole time that I'm struggling with or the fact that I've spoken countless times to someone who I attributed to being a ghost, but I feel like eyes are on me constantly.
The fact that Damien pointed out the camera in the office last week could play a part. I don't doubt that if he has visible cameras in the house, he could easily have hidden ones as well. The thought makes my skin crawl, but it also keeps me from doing anything that might anger him.
I no longer talk out loud to myself or voice my thoughts because I can't risk him hearing anything, despite how lonely it makes me feel. The isolation is worse when I go for hours every day without using my voice. Music helps, but it doesn't vibrate through my body the way it used to when I was younger.
I doubt that Luke is in the woods surrounding the house, watching me as I cross in front of a window, but that doesn't stop me from standing at them and looking out, hoping to catch a glance of him.
I'm no princess in a tower, waiting to be rescued. I deserve every bad thing I've gotten in life. I'm the daughter of a drug lord. My father's business has caused God only knows how many people to overdose and die, and that doesn't even take into account the number of guns this family has put on the streets. Those weapons aren't going to people defending their homes. They go to people who create more victims either through fear of having a weapon waved in their faces or because they've been shot.
Maybe it's pure paranoia that someone is watching me rather than a sixth sense. Maybe systematic abuse from Damien, and not knowing when he's going to pop up and hit me, has finally culminated in my sanity starting to slip.
I squint my eyes as I look out into the distance, wondering what in the tree line made the birds fly away, but I see nothing.
"Mrs. Gaines?"
I turn to face Samuel, wondering how he explained the cut on his forehead, that now has a bandage covering it, from his wound last week. I know Luke had to have subdued him in order to pull up in the alleyway, and it shows just how different Luke is from Damien. If Damien wanted someone out of the way, he'd probably put a bullet in their head.
But that isn't right either because he didn't kill Luke as he has bragged about doing for years. It's a lie he told to my father's face while I was present. That was one of the brutal things about my father. He never laid a hand on me, but emotionally, he's responsible for so much damage he might as well have struck at me with his fists.
"Yes, sorry," I finally manage.
"You'll be late for your appointment," he says. "Do you want to cancel?"
I shake my head, knowing that not going will raise too many questions. I know Damien keeps a close eye on what I'm doing, especially when it involves me leaving the house. He knows I won't run because of Eli, but he also caught me trying to locate my son. The man never trusted me fully, but I know he trusts me even less now.
"I'm ready," I tell Samuel, following him from the living room when he turns to head out to the car.
The drive is as uneventful as it was last week, but that doesn't keep my head from being on a swivel as I look at all the cars and every person on the sidewalk when we get into town. I don't see Luke. There's nothing suspicious, but, honestly, what do I know about evaluating my surroundings? I've been protected my entire life. I've never had to duck down or run from someone trying to hurt me, although the threat has always been there. I've never faced a barrage of bullets from someone wanting to get revenge on my father or my husband.
Roxanne greets me like normal when I enter through the back, but her smile doesn't reach her eyes. There's no love lost between us. Despite weekly appointments for years, I'm not friends with this woman. Friends have never been an option. They're a weakness. Caring for people outside of the family isn't allowed. Anyone who tries to get close will only use you.
I wish I could say that the lesson taught by my father at an early age wasn't true, but even Luke only got close to me as an undercover federal agent so he could take down my father and the organization. Every day since he told me who he was, I have wished that he had been successful. It's impossible to picture what a life without the criminal element would look like, but it can't be any worse than the one I'm living now.
My appointment goes like clockwork, this one a little longer than last week because I'm due for a haircut and a new set of nails.
When I lift up on the tips of my toes before opening the back door, I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of the sedan parked exactly where it's supposed to be, but the fear of what could happen before I'm safely inside the car with Samuel makes me rush to the vehicle and jump inside.
I look up as the car pulls away after clicking my seatbelt into place and meet dark green eyes so familiar I don't realize I memorized them until now.
"Hey, Peach."
My heart races as every emotion in the book hits me right in the chest. I'm ecstatic, livid, so incredibly happy, but also enraged and terrified.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I growl as he pulls the car out of the alleyway and heads left instead of right as we've always done when Samuel is driving.
The routine is to the salon and straight back home. I have a thirty-minute window to get there before Damien will suspect something is wrong, and that's not a whole lot of wiggle room to be fucking with.
Tears streak down my face, but I know better than to try and jump from the car, even though a part of my head is telling me that might be the only option.
"You have to let me go," I demand.
Maybe it won't be so bad if he just deserts the car and leaves me to find my own way home. Damien could possibly consider the blip an issue he needs to deal with through Samuel and not me, but the further he drives in the opposite direction of where I'm supposed to be heading, the harder my hands tremble.
"You have no idea what you're doing," I sob, my eyes frantic as if there's a single damn thing I can do to change this man's mind. "He'll kill me."
"He'll end up killing you if you stay, Aspen. You know that as much as I do."
"Th-this isn't just ab-about me," I manage.
I feel like I'm going a little insane, and I know there's a real chance I'll get to a certain point and I won't ever be able to get back in touch with full reality.
"My son!" I scream. "You're going to get my son killed."
Instead of assuring me that won't happen, he remains silent, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter as he leaves the busy streets of town.
"Luke, please," I beg, but he never looks in the rearview mirror again.
I'm already due back at the house by the time we pull up outside a house I don't recognize, and I watch as a man I don't know opens the front door before heading toward the house.
"Luke," I whisper when he opens the door and exits the vehicle without so much as a backward glance. " Luke !"
He doesn't stop walking, disappearing into the tree line just as the man opens the back door of the vehicle.
"Get out," he grunts, and all I can do is blink up at him. "Get out on your own or I'll get you out myself."
The warning is clear in his voice, and with shaking hands, I unclip my seatbelt and climb out of the car.
"He has trackers on the car," I explain.
"Lift your arms. Do you have any weapons?"
"Do I look like I’m carrying a fucking weapon?" I snarl but obey and lift my arms.
He proceeds to search me, a quick pat down and much less intrusive than the ones I've gotten at the airport.
"Trackers on the car," I repeat. "He probably already knows I'm here. He'll kill you for this."
The man stands to his full height. He's taller than me but he's not a massive block of muscle the way Luke is. He's less intimidating, but I know there are a lot more things a man can hurt me with than just his strength. Honestly, I'd be safer in the woods with a damn bear than this guy.
"We cleared the car," he says as he takes a step to the side. "He won't find you. You're safe. Let's get inside."
"I want to speak to Luke," I demand as I walk toward the front door of the cabin.
"I don't know a Luke," the man mutters as he follows closely behind me.
I grind my teeth in irritation, looking over my shoulder one last time toward the tree line before stepping inside the house.