Chapter Five
Marlee flinched at the sharp bang of the door slamming shut. The man was frightening. But it wasn’t just because of his size or the permanent snarl on his face or the hard way he talked. The most frightening thing was the way he stared at her. Like he knew her. Not just recognized her from the news or something. But… knew her. Inside her middle. Where nobody was allowed.
It made her feel strange. Scared, but curious. And curiosity was part of what made the last ten years hell. If only she hadn’t asked for answers. Why she was a prisoner. When could she leave…
She’d never make that mistake again.
“Don’t pay him any mind,” the woman murmured. “He left so he could be angry without scaring you.”
Leah was her name, and she seemed nice. Marlee didn’t trust people. Not anyone anymore. But her gut told her Leah was… something. Not safe, but wanted to be.
“How do you know?”
“He’s my son. He doesn’t handle emotion well. None of them do. And I can feel it rolling off him like a tidal wave.”
None of them do. That reminded her there were more. More men, drunk and doing unspeakable things if the sounds she’d heard in the lounge were anything to go by.
She had to get out of here.
“He’ll be back?”
Leah nodded.
“Then I should go now. Can you help me get out of here? I need to be out of Memphis by tonight. Gotta get far away. People are looking for me. His people. And they always find what they’re looking for.”
“Your captor’s people?” Leah asked.
“Yes. Please.”
“Do you know his name?”
Marlee nodded, but she wasn’t telling yet. He was too well-known. Too powerful.
“Where am I?”
Leah glanced at the door, looking unsure. She’d called the man Ratchet. And he’d called her mother.
“Alley Cat headquarters,” she admitted finally. “It’s not safe here, but my son won’t let you be hurt. I have to believe that. And it’s not possible for you to leave yet. No one knows you’re here but me and him. If the others find out…”
Alley Cats. She’d heard the name from her captor. Former captor. They worked for him, if she could be sure of the conversations she’d heard.
Her stomach lurched.
Once they found out she belonged to him, they’d return her.
She wrapped her arms around her middle, desperately trying to hold in her new panic. She felt like the bottom was falling out of her soul, everything just sinking… sliding… crashing.
“We… we could call the police,” she whispered in desperation. “Tell them who I am.”
Leah’s face turned from careful to hard. “No police. They can’t help you here.”
More sinking-gut feeling as it occurred to her what she already knew. The police wouldn’t lift a finger against her former captor, why would they do anything for her new ones. His employees.
“Only I can help you, but I can’t do it right now,” Leah hissed. “And until I can, you have to survive. Understand me? You stay here, in this room. Do what you’re told until I can get you free.”
“What I’m told?”
“Thomas won’t hurt you.” But she didn’t sound one hundred percent on that.
“Thomas?”
“Ratchet. They call him Ratchet. And his heart… it’s fair. Not good, but fair. Deep down, he knows how to be right. He just needs to remember. Now, he brought you here to keep you safe. I have to believe that means something. Trust him, and no one else. Got it?”
Marlee remembered what he’d told her in the shed and when he’d dragged her into the warehouse. I won’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else hurt you either.
How could she trust him? How could she trust anyone?
“Tell me you’ll do what I say,” Leah demanded, squeezing her hand. The desperation in the woman’s gaze felt identical to hers. Was she captive too? Was she in as much danger as Marlee was?
Trust him, and no one else.
Damn it. Did she have a choice? Did she ever have a choice.
No. Never.
The day she had a choice would be the day she was finally actually free.
Until then, it was the same as it had been for ten years. Survive.
She nodded, feeling sicker than when she first awoke in the shed.
Leah let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and more comfortable. It’s going to be all right, Marlee. I promise.”
But promises meant nothing to a captive.
***
Ratchet paced the hallway outside his room. He’d been heading to the lounge for a drink but couldn’t go more than six steps before turning back. Now he was repeating the action, trying to work out this fucked up situation in his mind.
He needed more information.
Like who was responsible for Marlee’s condition? Because he was going to fuck them up good. If he had his cat still, he’d call it out and eat the bastard’s goddamn face.
Or where was she kept? Because he was going to raze it to the ground. Burn it down and let her watch so she knew she’d never have to go back there.
Or what was done to her… because he needed to undo it all. Somehow.
He ran a shaking hand through his hair. What the fuck was happening to him? The need to care for this stranger was nearly overwhelming. It made his center burn to the point of being uncomfortable. Like whatever was inside him now was forcing him to action.
Do something. Make her better, and she will make you better. She can heal you where you’re broken. It’s her. The one.
Ratchet frowned. He couldn’t be healed. He was shattered. No one would ever be able to find all the shards much less put them all back in their place.
You’ll see. One thing at a time.
What could he do for her right now?
Tearing out the hearts of her enemies would have to come later, when he’d collected more intel.
Ratchet stared at the closed door, thinking.
She needed food. His female needed food. He’d hunt some down.
This got his feet moving toward the lounge. There was always food around when a party was happening. And when he got there, he wasn’t disappointed. Past the people humping in dark corners and some shamelessly on the couches, he found tonight’s buffet spread out over the counter. It wasn’t even picked over yet. The empty beer and liquor bottles littering the floor told him most of the cats had skipped dinner and gone straight for the numbing agents.
Ratchet skipped the stack of paper plates, and dug around in the cabinet for a tray instead. He found a banged up cookie sheet. It would do.
Moving down the counter, he picked out the best looking sandwich. It looked like turkey probably, and the lettuce was nice and green. He grabbed several slices of pizza for Marlee to choose from, not knowing which kind his female would like. He passed on the chips. They looked stale. Fucking Fang had probably left the bag open again.
Ratchet stepped back, looking the food over. None of this shit was healthy. It wouldn’t be good for her, but at least it would fill her empty stomach.
Again, the vice around his heart tightened at the thought of some asshole withholding food from her. Making her fear even water.
He found the chocolate cake off to the side. It looked like the kind his mom made. There was still three pieces left. Which told him the guys were worse off tonight than usual.
Ratchet slid all three pieces onto the tray and several chocolate chip cookies before digging in the fridge for something other than beer for Marlee to drink. He stared at the half-empty carton of milk wondering how many of the guys had swigged right from the jug. Nasty bastards.
Tucked away in the back there was an unopened bottle of orange juice. Perfect.
Turning to leave, he caught Skittles eyeing him from across the room. The cat was leaned against the wall, one leg drawn up to look casual, sipping from a bottle of Corona. He looked suspicious as all hell, and Ratchet was going to have to pass him on the way back into the hall.
He straightened his shoulders, setting his jaw as he went to stroll by like nothing at all was wrong. But Skittles stopped him with a whistle. Not an eerie one like their leader used right before he was about to fuck someone up. But a low, confused one.
“Lotta food you got there.” Skittles’ tone was quiet. He wasn’t aiming to draw attention, but even if he was, the others were probably too far gone to notice. Or care. “Ain’t seen you eat like that in a while.”
Ratchet shrugged. “What do you care?”
Skittles narrowed his eyes, pushing off from the wall. “I don’t. Just odd. Your ass has been skipping dinner for weeks.”
“Guess it caught up with me.”
“Yeah. Because that looks like enough food for two.”
A snarl curled Ratchet’s lips, warning his brother to back off. “Real hungry.”
“Sure. Okay.”
Pushing past Skittles, he started down the hall.
“It’s just earlier we heard someone in the storage shed. But when we checked it out, no one was there. Only this.”
Ratchet turned slowly, making sure his expression was neutral. Skittles pulled a worn photo from his back pocket and held it up. It must be Marlee’s. She could have dropped it when Ratchet pulled her from the shed.
Shit.
His gut took a dive to the floor.
He reached for the thing, roughly pulling it from Skittles’ grip, and stared closely at the images. Four unsmiling females in a dim room. Each with the same messy haircut and grim expression as Marlee. Different eyes and skin color, but the same hopelessness.
Four dolls. The fifth was in his room.
“Know anything about it?”
Ratchet pressed his lips together, shaking his head and passing the picture back to Skittles. “Nope.”
“Fang said he saw you go in there earlier.”
“Fang was drunk by noon. He probably saw little piggies dancing out in the lot too. Can’t really depend on nothing he sees.”
Skittles nodded, stuffing the photo back into his pocket.
“Try an alarm. Or hell, locking the door,” Ratchet called over his shoulder as he forced himself to go slow down the hall. “Only way to keep things out of the damn shed is to lock it.”
“Brilliant,” Skittles deadpanned. “Fucking genius.”
Ratchet flipped his middle finger high in the air and kept walking.
At his room, he eased the door open and slipped inside with the tray of food. There was a fleeting moment of despair when he noticed his bed was empty and neither his mother nor Marlee were anywhere to be seen. But then he heard their quiet voices coming from the small bathroom tucked at the back of the space and the air returned to his lungs.
With a frustrated sigh, he set the food on the dresser.
Why was his female out of bed? She should be resting.
The bathroom door was ajar and through it, he could see his mother helping a naked Marlee into the shower.
He froze, staring at her body. It was bruised and dirty, and she moved awkwardly. Like it wasn’t her own. Or hadn’t been for a long time. But her delicate shoulders, the curve of her spine, the soft sway of her waist… it called to him.
And felt wrong to look at.
Not wrong. Mine.
And besides, he looked at whatever he wanted. Women were meant to be looked at.
So why did he feel like king dick looking at her in this vulnerable moment?
Suddenly, Marlee’s eyes shot across the bathroom as if she’d sensed him watching. She gasped, looking somehow betrayed, and he jerked his gaze away, pulling the door shut until it clicked.
Shit.
He listened for the water to change, the sound of the glass door sliding shut. And when he knew Marlee was safe inside, he resumed the pacing he’d done in the hallway, his small room only allowing him four good strides.
Whatever. He could pace all night if he needed. It was better than the miserable sleepless nights he’d grown used to.
Better than wanting an end to everything and wishing he’d been born to a different clan.
Yeah, the quarreling in his chest was confusing… but it was something. And until he got things straight, he wasn’t checking out of life.