Page 32 of Bed of Thorns

The physicality of digging three feet under the hard soil was exhilarating, the sweat already forming on the back of my neck a welcome feeling. I had no issue with hard labor, which I’d been forced to do several times on a freaking chain gang. I hadn’t known they’d still existed until forced into a heavily armed convoy, then forced to work on a road project. I’d thought about escaping more than once, but I’d also known the guards were looking for any reason to shoot me down like a dog.

I kept digging until I hit the top of the metal box. Then I dropped to my knees, using my fingers to dig away at the clumps of clay. When I grabbed the handle, another wave of peace swept through me. I was finally taking life into my own hands.

Only when I’d placed the waterproof, sealed metal container on the ground’s surface did Mercedes walk closer, folding her arms and shivering even though it was a warm, sunny morning. She was shaking, her mouth twisted, her eyes never blinking.

I wasted no time pushing the box aside then dumping the dirt into the hole, patting it down the best I could. After a solid rain, no one would be able to tell the area had been disturbed. While a part of me had worried the box would be found and destroyed during my incarceration, at least I’d taken small comfort in the fact that I’d never provided the location of what I’d thought would exonerate me.

When I finally stood, I breathed a sigh of relief, allowing the tepid air to fill my lungs.

“What is that, Edmond? What did you keep?”

“We’ll talk about it when we get to where we’re going.”

“Where is that? You still haven’t told me. You don’t have any money. I don’t even know where you got the truck.”

I swung my head in her direction, hating that her words riled me. “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then where did you get the money?”

“Let’s just say I had a benefactor in prison.”

She shook her head, walking closer. “Why won’t you trust me? Do you think I’m going to run to the cops or to your father?”

I fisted my hand, the flash of anger forming bile in my throat. “I do trust you, Mercedes, or I wouldn’t be here.”

The faraway look in her eyes told me she didn’t believe a word I was saying. Hell, I couldn’t blame her after the way she’d been treated the last twelve hours. She deserved so much more, but one day I’d provide that for her. One day.

“Then tell me.”

“My cellmate provided cash and an opportunity.”

“Your cellmate,” she muttered as if she couldn’t believe me. “Please don’t tell me it’s illegal.”

Now I was incensed. “I didn’t want to become a criminal, Mercedes. Life made me that way. My father made me that way. We’re going far away from here where we can build a life together.”

I noticed the tremor forming on her lower lip, the almost wild look in her eyes. She remained fearful of what I could and would do. I grabbed the shovel, taking it as well as the implement to the truck and dumping them inside. Then I took one last look at the grave, offering my mother a smile.

My dead mother.

It was something I would never forget or forgive.

But it was time to move on.

“Get in, Mercedes. We have a long way to go.”

“I’m afraid, Edmond.”

“Because you don’t know me?”

She shook her head. “No, because I don’t think I can ever walk away.”

Her words were haunting, so much so that the breath caught in my throat. Was I as much of a monster as my father, ripping her out of her life without allowing her the choice? Maybe. But that’s all I knew. I couldn’t explain how much danger I believed she was in, but my instinct told me that at some point, she’d be removed, disappearing without a trace.

And there wouldn’t be a single person who would try to find out why.

* * *

Mercedes

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