Chapter 1
ONE
The sounds of chains dragging along the path was aggravating but hardly a factor of my liberation.
Physically, I was confined, but mentally, I was elsewhere.
I was the destination for the unworldly creature who had graced me with her presence just minutes ago.
Because she didn’t need to spend her Friday morning behind steel doors, across the steel table from a man wrapped in chains, I freed her.
I pulled the flesh of the wall of mouth between my teeth, nearly drawing blood as I recalled those curious, anguished eyes. Sadness rested on those orbs. Though collected, baby was falling apart. She masked her misalignment well.
My nostrils widened as the lack of clarity in her diamonds reminded me of the presence in her life. He couldn’t handle a ring purchased. I’d be damned if he could handle her.
Thoughts of her lingered as I turned the second corner. An unfamiliar face rounded the triangle, hands aimed for my frame. The chains were silenced at once. All movement halted.
“Hasting,” the guard behind me called out, voice panic stricken.
I tilted my head rightward, waiting for the first mistake of Hasting’s day to be made.
The two pairs of eyes both traveled in the direction of the voice behind me.
“Yeah?”
“Nah– I got it.”
“He’s going to–”
As he spoke, his hand lowered, prepared to put his dick beaters where they didn’t belong.
“Hands to yourself, Hasting,” I warned.
“If you want your job, I suggest you let me handle this one.”
“My job? Nigga, I–”
“Or your life,” I breathed out, my shoulders lifting and falling.
“Was that a threat?”
My eyes remained forward, trained on Hasting. The hand that was once near my frame was now against the frame of his bifocals, pushing them up further on his face.
Silence thickened the tension between him and his co-worker. Because their unpleasantries weren’t my concern, I continued toward the next door, standing in front of it until I heard that familiar sound.
Bzzzzt.
Thoughts of her returned. Their disruption was disappointing.
Range.
Range Childers.
Her hair wasn’t wild. It wasn’t unkempt. Yet, it wasn’t kempt. And, it wasn’t tamed either. It was fluffy. It was piled on top of her head, hanging mid-back. Straight, but not flat. Her lips were full and dark and daring.
I felt them against mine long before she opened her mouth.
I’d never been a man with a vivid imagination.
Before my niece, I didn’t have an imagination at all.
But, suddenly, it was clear. Suddenly, it was filled with reels of Range.
Even with all of her darkness, however, she was a ray of sunshine in this dim reality.
Sunshine.
My lips curled into a smile. I wished it was my home she was headed to. My bed. My boat. My office. My lap. My arms. My chest.
Sunny Baby.
The softness of her hands was comforting.
So were her differences from the rest of the world.
While invisible to the naked eye, I identified her challenges upon entering the conference room.
She was one of the special ones. So highly gifted in certain areas that others were considered deficiencies on the broad spectrum of human capabilities.
Neurodivergent.
I’d seen her kind a thousand times or more.
I provided their prescriptions. I fought for better prescriptions.
I lowered doses. I paired medications. I gave alternatives.
I created plans for reduced consumption and eventual sobriety.
I fought against dependency. I fought for more natural, more impactful therapy.
A new, overwhelming urge was born. Her protection was my priority, now. Not only from others but from my damn self if I didn’t mean her any good. But, I did. I would.
I stepped into my cell. Though there was commotion all around me, there was complete silence. I heard nothing. Nothing but her voice. I saw nothing. Nothing but her pretty face. And, those tearful eyes that had shed enough of them. Way too many. Way too often. Way too long.
Don’t cry, baby.
My chest imploded as I ground my teeth against each other. A pain ran through my chest. I closed my eyes, briefly, attempting to rid myself of the thoughts surrounding her emotions. Emotions I wasn’t responsible for. Emotions I wanted to correct. Emotions I wanted to influence.
I released a labored breath and reopened my eyes. The bars that closed behind me became the biggest obstacle between me and my immediate future. Because, the moment I was free, Range would be my first quest. Right after seeing the face of that little girl that I missed more than my freedom.
My hands rested on the rusted surface. The cuffs were released. I pulled my wrists toward my chest. One at a time, I massaged the skin around them. The white Nikes slid off with ease, lining the wall perfectly. I pulled the brown shirt from my body, leaving the white shirt beneath it.
Neatly, I folded it into a small square. I placed it on the top bunk and smoothed the wrinkles from the top. Satisfied with my handiwork, I took a seat on the bottom bunk.
My solitude was required. My solitude was requested. My solitude was rewarding.
Thoughts lingered a bit longer. Silence was a bit louder. The walls were a bit wider. This temporary situation was a bit more tolerable.
I parted the back of the two-inch mattress pad, retrieving the black device. The screen powered on with a push of my finger. I accessed the contacts. There was only one saved. I tapped it and pressed the phone to my ear.
It didn’t ring.
“Yeah.”
I tipped my head toward the wall on the opposite side of the six-by-eight-foot cell.
“Range Childers–Contact.”
I removed the cell from my ear, ending the call with a tap of the finger. The phone powered off with ease. I parted the mattress and slid it between the stuffing.
My back pressed against the sheet. My head lowered onto the pillow. With both hands behind it, I peered up at the top bunk. Closing my eyes, I allowed my thoughts to run wild. They were in a far, far away place. These walls couldn’t contain them. They couldn’t contain me either.
My position wasn’t a matter of failure or surrender. It was a choice I made to bring light to a darker side of our world. One I despised. One that shouldn’t exist. One that needed to be dismantled. One that resurrected the ugliest parts of people.
Aubrey Bear.
Big brown eyes, pink toenail polish, and countless leotards in my backseat all swarmed me with content. The sweetest voice lulled me to a more pleasant place.
“Uncle Siah, can we please have ice cream without telling Mommy?”
Every Thursday the same question rolled off her tongue in a whisper as if I was afraid of her mother or we’d both be in trouble if she ever found out. Because Aubrey’s stomach didn’t settle well with dairy, Janeese knew. Janeese always knew.
A chuckle slipped from my lips as I imagined the turmoil Aubrey suffered as a consequence of her actions. I was certain her stomach rumbled. I was certain she laid on her mother’s lap, wondering what was happening to her body.
Or maybe her father’s lap.
My nostrils flared with disgust. My stomach turned, threatening to spill its contents. The temperature of the cell was steady, but mine was rising swiftly. Discomfort led my fingers to my forehead as the day that played on loop in my head began again.
I shoved the charger into the mouse, hoping it would connect to the computer.
Watching the screen, I waited for the two to sync.
If it hadn’t been for bad, then luck wouldn’t be on my side at all this morning.
Every piece of technology I placed my hand on had disappointed me today, starting with my car’s fob.
No battery warning.
No warning at all.
It died unannounced and at the wrong time. Next was the digital lock I’d recently installed on the front door of Blackwood Pharmaceuticals. I hadn’t anticipated its malfunction or the fifteen minutes it required for a hard reset. Nevertheless, I made my way inside twenty minutes after my arrival.
It was the most pivotal morning of Blackwood Pharmaceuticals, and not even technology could hinder what was destined to happen before the clock struck twelve this morning.
In under an hour, I’d be sitting across from the CEO of GeoPharma, the pharmaceutical dynasty responsible for producing medicines distributed in every pharmacy in Huffington.
Over the last ten years, their company had been sued for almost as much as it grossed. Because of these lawsuits, it was imperative that GeoPharma took a look at the medicine they were producing and the formulas they were following.
Increased hospitalizations, uncommon side effects, and deaths linked to their drugs were indicators of a misalignment with their products and their patients. It would be my job to locate it and eliminate it. Reformulation would be key, but patient history and data would be major factors as well.
“Fuck.”
Four minutes later and there still wasn’t a connection.
I raked my thumb up and down my chin, pondering my next move.
Rachel wasn’t due in the office for another forty-five minutes.
Before she arrived, I needed the data I’d collected in my hands to go over again so that there weren’t any inconsistencies in my pitch.
I wanted Todd, GeoPharma’s CEO, to understand how detrimental my presence was to the integrity, success, and longevity of their brand.
They were quickly losing their reputable status, leading pharmacies to wonder if they were still a company they could trust. Within four years, they’d be bankrupt if something didn’t change.
It was wise to start with Blackwood Pharmaceuticals. I was the change they needed.
I peered at the watch on my arm. Anthony’s tardiness was unacceptable. We were scheduled to arrive at the same time, geared with the understanding of what was to take place before Todd arrived. With a shake of my head, I stood from my desk.