Page 46 of Broken Surrender
I smiled. He was sweet to her. I loved seeing this secret side of him. “I bet we can figure it out,” I said. “Between John’s money and yours, there has to be some option that would be perfect for her.”
His grin faded away. “It’s not about the money.”
And I knew, then. He couldn’t give her a beach of her own, not until everyone who had wronged her was gone.
Still, something inside of me made me want to get John’s money and give it to them. I had never cared about money like that. As long as I had enough to survive, I would have been happy living a quiet life in Oakmont if Aaron hadn’t become such an asshole. But now, it seemed like I could do something for the Callens with John’s money, like Desmond had done something for me. Made me feel good. Made me feel respected and heard.
He was still for a moment, taking me in.
“I’m going to go to the bank,” I said. His brows furrowed, and I gave a light laugh. “What? I can’t go to the bank?”
“I’ll go with you.”
Right then, I wanted to figure out how to get John’s money in order. If the Marked Blooms Syndicate was taking care of covering up his murder, under the impression that Desmond had done it, then they would probably help cover paper trails if I went through John’s bank accounts. It’s not like I wanted any of it for myself; I wanted it for the Callens. And since I couldn’t have that dream life when I was her age—safety and love and care—then I wantedherto have it.
“I’ve got something I need to do by myself,” I explained. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Desmond pulled out another panic button, this time from the nightstand, one that was slightly thicker.
“Keep this with you,” he said. “Anything happens, you click this. Go on.” He nodded at my pocket. “Put it in there.”
I slipped it inside, patting my pants, the bump obvious through the fabric. I wanted to give him crap for it like I’m sure Corinne did. But it felt good to know that someone was watching out for me. That he cared. I couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed.
“The bank isn’t too far anyway,” I said. “Right in Fairview.”
“Then hurry back.”
Those words sent a thrill through me. So I did hurry—for the most part. I drove myself to the bank. The bank needed John’s permission to grant me access, but with his signature, I’d be set. I had seen his signature enough and figured I could copy it, especially since it wasn’t for me, but for Corinne. But as I drove back to the house, the green and white sign of a grocery store blazed into view. I thought about the things I would have wanted as a teenager during my first period. It couldn’t hurt to stop.
The parking lot was crowded and I had to park in the back, but I told myself it would be worth it. I searched the aisles for things she might need, or want, things that Desmond probably hadn’t thought about. I grabbed a fruit punch sports drink, a few different types of cramp relief, and reusable heating pads. In the sexual health and hygiene section, I scanned the different products. She had so many at home, I doubted she needed any from here.
A man stopped on the edge of the aisle. In my periphery, he was standing with his feet shoulder-width apart. He must have been shopping for condoms. I scanned the pads and tampons for something new, but the man’s eyes stayed on me. The hairs on the back of my neck rose the longer he stared. I reached for the panic button in my pocket but didn’t press it yet. It was okay. We were in a public place. He couldn’t hurt me.
I quickly went to the register and paid for the items in my cart. Outside of the store, I exhaled. Footsteps came to a stop behind me. I kept walking, listening for them. A horn jolted me; I gasped. I had walked in front of a car. I clutched the bags against me and walked faster.
In the back of the lot, there was less traffic. It was quiet, the tapping of my feet mixed with the echo of theirs. I told myself I was being paranoid. John was always saying stuff like that, and maybe, in some way, he was right. But then I stopped in my tracks. My car’s windshield was shattered, my tires gutted and flat. My heart raced, blood throbbing in every vein. The footsteps were behind me and I tried to open the car door anyway, but what could I do?
The footsteps came to a stop. I turned around slowly. It was the same two men that had been in my bedroom, the blond with the beady eyes, and the black-haired one, both of them giants towering over me. I dropped my bags and bolted, but they were fast. I twisted around, trying to figure out where to run, but they seized my arms. Then it hit me:the panic button.I reached for my pocket but they gripped down to my bones, and I scrunched my eyes closed, refusing to cry. They threw me into the back of a cargo van. The black-haired one lumbered over me, binding my wrists in rope. I scooted back but he whacked me in the face.
“Let me go,” I demanded. “I don’t know where John is. I can’t help you.”
“Tell that to the boss,” the blond snickered.
I snarled, baring my teeth. Trying to be brave.
“Let me go and I won’t come after you too,” I hissed.
The blond laughed. “Shut up, bitch.”
They slammed the doors shut. The engine rumbled on, and I wiggled, trying desperately to punch that panic button, but couldn’t reach into my pocket. I had to do something. I had to do itnow.I fell to my side, pressing down on my hips, crossing my fingers that I’d be able to press it somehow.
We drove for a long time, then finally came to a stop. The two men pulled me out, shoving me forward inside of a warehouse. Lights dangled above us, illuminating the floor in broad circles. As soon as they untied my wrists, reaching for the shackles bolted to the wall, I smacked my side, hoping they didn’t notice what I was doing. I could kill a single man with poison and a lamp, but I could not take on two giants by myself.
A new man came forward, smaller than the first two. His head was round like a full moon, and he seemed new. He lifted his chin. “Did he give you the full dose?” he asked, his voice high-pitched. “Or are you hiding the rest of the vial?”
“John never told me details,” I panted.
He ran a hand along my thigh, then pulled up my shirt. His clammy fingers skimmed my stomach. My skin crawled. I hated this.
