Noe
Nassir’s attorney was young and looked just as good in his expensive suit as the man footing the bill did. He was blond, stylish, incredibly fit, and very focused. He actually reminded me a little bit of Race. He was how the other man might have turned out if he hadn’t run across Shane Baxter all those years ago, if his life on the Hill had never been exposed for the sham and lie that it was. It was clear Nassir was his most recognizable client and his biggest meal ticket. It was also obvious that he couldn’t afford to lose when he was representing a man who was as ruthless and brutal as Nassir was. The lawyer took one look at Julia’s protruding belly and declared that she needed to get a paternity test done ASAP. The irrefutable proof of what Goddard had done to her was growing inside of her, the key to putting the man away for the rest of his life. He told her the District Attorney’s office would ultimately be the one prosecuting the case, but he would represent her and make sure they didn’t screw anything up, considering it was still unknown how far Goddard’s reach extended.
Julia was understandably upset at the idea of going through such an invasive procedure. It was far easier to determine paternity when the baby was born, but Julia still had a few months left of her pregnancy. However, he explained that Goddard had reached out to an attorney from the Valley, a neighboring city on the other side of the interstate. His lawyer was a man who would twist her words and try to convince the jury she asked for it, that she was a consenting participant in her abuse, so she begrudgingly relented to the paternity test. It didn’t matter that she was underage and legally incapable of giving consent, they would crucify her in the media and make the last months of her pregnancy a nightmare.
“Who’s the attorney?” Nassir asked, sounding bored rather than curious. It was such a simple question, one that I would have asked myself if I was at all familiar with the legal system. I wasn’t prepared for the answer to send my world careening off its axis.
“Aaron Cartwright. He’s made a name for himself over the last few years taking on some big cases. He got a cop killer acquitted and that guy who kept those girls chained up in his basement for three years off on a technicality. He’s salivating over this one. Offered to do it pro-bono when Goddard got in touch.” I thought I was going to pass out. My past nightmare was now colliding full force with my current one.
I was having trouble breathing through the panic that was clawing at my throat. The room around me started to spin and I barely heard Keelyn ask me if I was okay. “Do you need to sit down, Noe? You look a little pale.”
I felt like I was going to hurl. I put a hand over my churning stomach and looked everywhere but at the prying eyes coming from everyone in the room. “It’s been a long few days. I’m tired.” Horrified was more like it. Of course, Aaron had gone off to law school and was getting people off the hook who were just as awful and demented as he was. He probably sympathized with the monsters he represented. I knew firsthand that he understood them, that he came from the same kind of tattered and torn fabric that made them. I never thought I would see him again, or hear his name, unless it was ripped out of me in the middle of the night when I couldn’t escape the things he’d done. I couldn’t believe he was smack dab in the middle of everything that was going on now.
Goddard. The man had gotten away with more than murder for a long time, so clearly, he wasn’t stupid. We were so busy keeping track of him, we never stopped to wonder if he was doing the same kind of research on us. He could have easily found a low-rent attorney in the Point or one from the Hill who might be attention hungry and looking for glory, but he hadn’t. He’d deliberately found the one person who would make me run. The only person I feared enough to turn my back on the young girl who needed me and the man I was growing more reliant on every single day. He’d played his hand well, and when I wasn’t terrified and choking on panic, I would take a minute to be impressed by how well the old man played the game. But right now, I had to go.
I had to vanish, disappear, dissolve into nothing. I needed to get my ass on the first train or bus out of town and never look back at this fucking city again. I needed to escape. I needed to be where no one relied on me. I needed to get somewhere that stormy gray eyes didn’t follow my every move and catalogue my every thought and feeling like I was some kind of newly discovered creature. One that he was determined to figure out and tame. I needed space to get my head around how easy it had been for him to get through my walls. Until I heard Aaron’s name, I didn’t even realize I was standing on the ruins of everything impenetrable I’d built up over the years. I hadn’t noticed the bricks crumbling to ash every time Snowden Stark touched me, or pushed me to do more, or caused me to think harder and be better. He wanted me to want things and he’d managed to make that happen. I wanted him, but not nearly as bad as I wanted to get someplace where Aaron Cartwright couldn’t find me. A place he would never, ever think to look.
“I just need . . . ,” I cleared my throat as the words squeaked out too high and shaky. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I grabbed my backpack from the floor, clutching it like it was a lifeline and not an anchor that weighed me down. I started for the elevator, intent on getting out of the club and hitting the streets when Nassir’s smooth as silk voice stopped my hasty retreat.
“You can use the private bathroom up here. You don’t have to go all the way back down to the club.” He was watching me carefully, eyes dissecting my every twitch. He might pretend to be a heartless bastard, but I knew he cared about Stark and he made it clear he knew that Stark cared about me. He wasn’t going to let me evaporate into thin air because it was going to piss his boy off, and he wasn’t having any of that.
Too bad. I was beyond caring what either he or Stark thought about my need to flee. All I could think about was getting somewhere I felt safe, somewhere nobody knew me and wouldn’t look for me.
“No. I think it’s better if I head downstairs. When I say I have to go to the bathroom, I mean I have to go.” I left no question about what I meant. The handsome lawyer looked properly disgusted and the teenaged boy who trotted into town with Julia snickered in the way all teenaged boys tended to at toilet humor.
I jabbed at the elevator button like my life depended on the car showing up in the next couple of seconds, because it felt like it did. Once the metal doors swished open, I practically jumped into the interior, turning to push the button for the ground floor only to catch Julia’s questioning, terrified eyes. I told her I would protect her, that I wouldn’t leave her. I was a goddamn liar.
“I’m so sorry.” It sounded just as pitiful as Stark’s apology had the night he got me back from Goddard’s men. It sounded just as useless, as well.
The doors closed and I pressed a button for the floor that had the private rooms. I didn’t trust Nassir to let me go. If he put one of his guys on the front door, there was no way I was getting past them, but I knew from pictures all over Instagram that the club had a private terrace used for the high rollers and big spenders. They were also the people who paid for sex and debauchery, the likes of which Goddard could provide, but that was neither here nor there. The private patio was just high enough that jumping over the edge and down into the alley below was risky, at best. Flat out stupid and irresponsible was closer to what I was doing, so I couldn’t stop and think too much about it. Sure, running away with a broken ankle was going to be a hell of a lot harder than skipping town with two working legs, but there wasn’t a chance Stark was going to let me go when he found out Aaron was back in the picture. He would make a broken bone seem like nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
The bar in the VIP area was closed since the club didn’t open until late into the night. I sent a quick prayer up to whomever might be listening and feeling generous with their miracles that the doors leading outside wouldn’t be locked. I heard something that sounded like an electronic click but I refused to stop and think about what it was as the heavy, glass door swung open under my hands. I bolted to the railing and gulped when I looked down. It seemed a lot higher up in person than it appeared on the Internet. There was no question that going over the side and landing on the asphalt below was going to hurt, bad.
I couldn’t see another way around it, though. I was like an animal caught in a trap. I was willing to chew my own leg off in order to get free. I had to get away. There was no other choice. I could feel my past breathing down my neck with hot, acrid puffs of air and it was suffocating me. I tossed a leg over the metal railing and briefly closed my eyes. I deserved a break. Maybe I would land on some trash or hybrid car. Something soft or something that would crumple easily and break my fall.
I pried my eyes open, preparing to hurl myself into oblivion, when I caught sight of the shiny, sparkly, perfectly maintained fire escape leading off the far side of the terrace. I couldn’t believe a guy like Nassir Gates bothered with something as mundane as keeping his club up to code. I decided next time I saw him, which would be never, I was going to give him a kiss of gratitude. I didn’t even care that Keelyn would kick my ass over it.
I ran to the ladder, used my foot to kick the latch that held it in place, and sighed in relief as the separate parts started to roll toward the ground below. I was scampering down the side of the building before the last rung hit the cement. When my feet were back on solid ground, I shot a look up to where I had come from and noticed that there were surveillance cameras on every corner and along every outside wall of the massive warehouse. My escape wasn’t going unnoticed and I didn’t have to wonder if I really was breaking free or if Nassir was letting me go. If I gave it too much thought, I would stop moving and I couldn’t afford that.
I darted out of the alley, pulling my beanie down over my head and tugging a hoodie on over my thin t-shirt. I kept my head down as I melted into the shadow and shade that was always present in the Point. The darkness used to be my friend, used to be the place I knew I could hide. The gloom and the gutters was where I always felt safe, but now Stark knew where to look for me. And I knew he would. Even though I’d been working at putting space between us, driving a wedge at the same time I pulled him closer, he would look. He wasn’t going to let me go without a fight, because I knew him. I understood him. I appreciated all of him, and I told him that over and over again when I let him take my body and challenge my mind. My heart was starting to get jealous of all the other parts of me that were full of Snowden Stark, which was another reason I needed to hit the bricks. I didn’t want to fall for a man who claimed to be heartless, but was anything but. I had too much on my own plate to take on his search for his lost ability to love. If he found it, I was a goner. As it was, I was barely hanging onto my resolve to protect my heart from him and his awkward, untried affection.
I stopped at a bus stop, but remembering Stark’s warning that all buses had cameras nowadays, I quickly changed my mind and slipped into the shadow of a nearby convenience store while I tried to figure out the best way to get out of town without being tracked. Stark could hack into any of the city’s surveillance systems so public transport was out. He could hack into Uber to see if I ordered a ride, even if I used a fake name. If I stole a car, as soon as it was reported, he would have the description and plate number. Getting away from a genius was a lot harder than running away from my family had been . . . in more ways than one.
I decided my best course of action was to hop one of the freighter trains that rolled in and out of the city on a regular basis. The security was lax because everyone knew the good stuff came into town through the docks. Plus, I’d run across many a gutter punk who had made their way from one coast to the other hopping trains. I figured if they could do it, so could I.
It was a long walk to the freight yard, one I spent looking over my shoulder every two seconds. I was breathing hard and was so tired when I slipped through a hole in the chain link fence that surrounded the noisy, dirty trainyard. It sucked that I had no idea where any of the trains were going, that I didn’t get to pick where I was running to, but as long as it was away from the threat of Aaron and the promise of Stark, I wouldn’t complain. It took a minute to find an open boxcar, one that I could toss my backpack into and hoist my body upon. The train started rolling just as my boots left the ground. I threw myself on my back and stared up at the top of the boxcar, telling myself I wasn’t going to cry.
I left. That’s what I did. That’s how I kept myself safe. It was for the best, even if I couldn’t convince myself that was the truth. Goddamn liar.
The train rolled through the Point and out of the city into the Valley. I freaked out when I thought it was going to stop in the place that harbored my biggest fear. Luckily, it kept on rolling, eventually chugging through the foothills and over the slight incline of the mountains. It slowed that night through a quaint, small town that was only a handful of hours away from the Point, but eons away from my home in terms of infrastructure and morality. There were legitimate white picket fences lining the streets and nothing was open after dark.
I worried I was going to stick out like a sore thumb, that the local police would show up and run me out of town before I found a place to sleep for the night, but this town was a throwback to when people cared for their neighbors and watched out for their community. I wasn’t on the street searching for an alcove or alley to camp out in for more than a half an hour when I was approached by a middle-aged woman. Her face was clouded with concern when she asked me if I had anywhere to go or anything to eat.
I opened my mouth to tell her I was fine, that I was just passing through, on my way to somewhere, anywhere, but what came out was a wailing sob that made my entire body shake. I was crying for who I was and where I had come from. I was confused, and for the first time in my life, not sure if I should be moving forward or running backwards.
She took a step toward me, putting her hands on my trembling shoulders and told me, “We see a lot of young kids like you passing through here. They come from the city. It must be an awful, awful place to not notice its young people fleeing. The church has a place you can spend the night and shower. It might be too late to get you something to eat, but if it is, you let me know and I’ll bring you something from home. Let’s get you somewhere warm and safe.” She thought I was pathetic, weak, and pitiful. All the things I’d fought so hard not to be after the first time Aaron ruined my life. She didn’t look any deeper, couldn’t see how much more there was underneath the surface, because she didn’t come from where I was from. Everyone was so much more than they appeared to be, they had to be to survive.
That was all I ever wanted . . . somewhere safe. I was starting to wonder if it was somewhere or someone that held the security and safety I craved.
I wiped the back of my hand over my wet cheeks and took a shuddering breath. “It is an awful place, but the people . . .” Well, some of them were awful, but more often than not, they were special because they survived and sometimes even thrived in a place that was hell on Earth. “The people make it home.”
She lifted her eyebrows as she guided me toward a white clapboard and brick building with stained-glass windows and a steeple holding a bronze bell. It looked like a scene off of a postcard you sent back home. I’d never seen anything so . . . clean and pure. It made me feel a little uneasy and completely out of place. I shouldn’t have been running away, I should have run toward the one person who actually made me feel invincible. Hindsight was always so crystal clear.
“A home you ran away from, so it must not be that great.” She sounded so sure, so judgmental of the place that had protected me when I really did run away from home. I didn’t like an outsider, someone with no idea of the miles I’d travelled, disparaging the city that had made me.
I rubbed my face with my sleeves and told myself to settle down. I’d been frantic to get away but now it was clear there was nowhere else I belonged. I had space, I had air, I had freedom, and it was absolutely not what I wanted. “I didn’t run away. I just got a little lost.” I could have used some of Stark’s robotic reasoning. It would have stopped me from overreacting and jumping the gun.
The woman opened the doors to the church and I followed silently. I had no choice but to accept the town’s hospitality for the night. In the morning, I was going back to face my double nightmare, knowing I wouldn’t have to do it alone. I was too old, too smart, and too strong to keep running from the things that scared me.
“Well, you have a place here until you figure out what you want.” The woman offered me a smile that I returned.
“I don’t need to figure it out. I know exactly what I want.” And I would bet all of my meager belongings and my foolish, fragile heart that he was already on his way to find me. “He’ll be here in the morning.” I believed that as reverently as I believed he would never, ever let Aaron get anywhere near me.
I needed to go so he could bring me back. Show me my place in life. In this big, bad world. And once he had me, I was going to help him find his heart . . . because that elusive, tricky thing was mine.