Chapter Twenty
Berkleigh
Two and a half hours into my drive to Florida, my car already needs gas or a charging station.
Either will do. I don’t like to wrack the miles up on my Firebird with this journey so I jumped in my Prius and, well…
it’s obvious how well thought out this whole trip isn’t because I’m underprepared and my usual route now has to change.
Visiting my parents’ house means making sure my Prius is fully charged up and fully gassed, having a dozen bottles of water in the back seat and a motel booked at the halfway point—always the same one.
This way, I know exactly when and where to stop, each and every time.
My journey is the same as my life; a routine of places I’m familiar with.
I suppose my life has been in such turmoil lately that this trip had to follow the same pattern. My parents aren’t even home, they’re still on their cruise. This drive was supposed to be a little normality and I’ve tripped on the first hurdle by being so unprepared.
Spotting a gas station, I huff and signal to turn off. It’s almost noon and this place looks busy. There’s a huge parking lot for trucks and trailers and I just hope the drivers aren’t all hanging around. For my clients, I can be as sociable as they need me to be, but today is not that day.
I’m running away from my problems because life got hard and I’m not in the mood to deal with people in general. This is far from the advice I would usually dole out, but I’m well aware that I’m a walking contradiction.
Beside a gas pump, I turn off the engine and dig through my purse for my cell so I can pay. Searching…where the fuck is it?
Shit.
I left it on the bedside table at Tanner’s house, and I have no fucking idea why my wallet isn’t in my purse.
Fuck, fuckedy fuck fuck!
Just another nail in my unprepared coffin for this journey.
Maybe I should go home. What am I even doing?
So Tanner’s a creepy fuck who has been stalking me for however long. He’s more than proven that he isn’t the boy next door that I once knew.
Ugh. I slam my purse back on the passenger seat and throw my head backward, closing my eyes with a huff.
At this point, my options are minimal. I could stay here, wallow, and probably get yelled at by waiting motorists because my car is in the way, but that feels like a last resort and invites a conflict I don’t want.
Logically, I should either find somebody willing to let me use their cell or see if the cashier can help. But who would I call?
I’ve closed myself off from the outside world, made stupid decisions without thinking first, and have left myself stranded in every sense of the word.
My parents are my people, and even they don’t really know me.
They know the loving and devoted, hard working, determined, and goal oriented daughter, but that’s only a small part of who I am.
The parts of myself that have remained hidden would destroy their perfect image of Dr. Berkleigh Brigham. God, even thinking of the title makes me cringe. I’m proud as hell of my achievements, of what I’ve created, but the taste of a different—albeit way more fucked up—life has changed me.
A loud knocking and the sudden appearance of a woman at my driver’s side window makes me jump, and I immediately remember exactly where I am: in a shit storm.
She gestures for me to roll my window down with a wide grin on her pale face.
Her eyes are sunken and she doesn’t look well, despite her smile.
“Hey, sorry. I’ll move my car.” I apologize, assuming she’s from the vehicle behind me waiting for the pump.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I need your help, though.” She huffs a laugh, clearing her throat before continuing. “There aren’t any other women around and I need help with the machine in the bathroom.” She shrugs.
The station does seem to be full of men from what I can see, and I can understand her not wanting to ask a strange man to follow her into the bathroom.
I’m about to be one of those annoying people who park at the pump and spend way too long here, but it’s for a good deed.
“Sure.” Grabbing my keys, I get out of my car and lock it before following the timid woman.
“Thank you.” She grins, her dry lips cracking with the effort as she spins to face me and leans against a black van. But she isn’t looking at me. “I’ll take my payment now.” She holds out her hand and I scrunch my face in confusion.
“Wha—ow!” A sharp sting in my neck makes me twist to see where it came from, but the action is my downfall because the world spins as my vision goes black. My muscles scream in pain from trying to move, to not give in to whatever is happening.
It’s no use.
My head is thick and heavy, my limbs don’t feel like my own, and my eyes seem to be glued shut. They’re not, of course, but it’s not easy to open them. They hurt, just like the rest of me, and I can’t figure out why.
Muffled voices come from I don’t know where…it sounds like they’re behind a door maybe? I open my eyes, slowly, and I’m thankful for the dull lighting. Although, I’m not thankful for the rope tying my wrists behind my back and making it so difficult to move.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm my racing heart as I realize the situation I’m in. Something happened at the gas station. The woman who needed help was clearly in on the heist…kidnapping.
Whatever this situation is, I’m in serious trouble. I haven’t been picked up by the cops because knocking someone out and tying them up isn’t in their wheelhouse, but then again, what do I know? Maybe the way they handle murderers isn’t well advertised.
Taking in my surroundings, the piss-stained mattress I’m lying on in the corner of an otherwise empty room, I know I’m just trying to talk myself out of the severity of my predicament.
This is bad. The walls are painted a regal kind of dark-green, but they’re as stained as everything else, marked up with God knows what, giving the room a sinister edge that sends a shiver up my spine.
The hardwood floor is the cleanest thing in the whole room, which is surprising, but I don’t have long to think about why before the thick brown door scrapes open, as if it’s too big for the space and was never fitted properly.
“Oh look, the little cunt’s awake.”
My heart sinks into my empty stomach, my dry throat making it impossible to swallow. I know this mountain of a man. He was in my house that night.
He walks into the room, leaving the door open, and he’s wearing what looks to be the same—or a similar—suit to the one he wore before.
“Who could’ve guessed that you and the assassin’s bitch were one and the same. Boss is gonna enjoy playing with you.” He snarls as he looks down on me, then the dirty bastard spits. Thankfully, I manage to flinch away quickly enough to avoid the splatter.
“Your boss can play on the highway for all I care, but he isn’t coming anywhere near me.
” Adrenaline is pushing my bravado to the forefront at the mention of the assassin—who I have no doubt is Tanner—and I raise my chin in defiance, despite my inability to move around because of the ropes.
My ankles are bound too so I feel like a snake.
Appropriate comparison…because I will bite this motherfucker given half the chance.
“Funny you say that. He’s going to come all fucking over you, inside you, around you…” He pauses and leans down, closer to my face. “Then he’s going to fucking kill you.”
Instinct has me twisting my aching muscles as quickly as I can without breaking my wrists behind me, and I push out my legs, aiming for his family jewels but connecting with his chin instead before he has a chance to straighten himself to standing.
The satisfying crunch makes me grin, but it’s short-lived because he kicks his own leg out, my stomach taking the impact.
Breathing becomes difficult and pain radiates from the spot he kicked as unwelcome tears spring to my eyes.
“You’re fucking lucky the boss wants you whole.” Holding on to his chin, he spits again, and this time it doesn’t miss. It lands square on my forehead and I want to vomit. “For now.”
The sound of his laugh grates my bones as he leaves, slamming the door behind him, but I don’t hear a lock.
With my breaths coming in short pants, my cheeks—and forehead—wet, I glare at the space the man occupied, wishing with everything that I am that he would just drop dead.
I imagine blood seeping from every hole he possesses, his eyes glazing over…
and it helps a little, but I need to figure a way out of this.
After all, I’m supposed to be helping out Karma.