Auctioned to the Prisoners (Auctioned #4)

22

KINKAID

COMING CLEAN

The laundry I'm surrounded with stinks, but I don't give a fuck as I struggle into the black jeans and jacket that the warden's brother-in-law tossed into the back of the truck. It's not easy to balance, buffeted by the bumps in the road. My orange prison pants rest discarded in a lurid heap on the floor as I pull on the boots. In ordinary clothes, it’s like I've shrugged off an outgrown skin. I wonder how long it will take the stench of the pen to leave my nostrils. Maybe, when I bury my face in Lory's hair, and it smells of feminine shampoo, I'll forget everything that came before.

She doesn't know I'm coming for her, but I am.

The truck stops suddenly on the side of the road, and the driver gets out. He's taking a piss, and this is my chance. I open the back door of the vehicle and jump out, disappearing into the trees and bushes that line the road. When he's driven away, I wait a few minutes, checking no one's watching before I make my way into town. It's a mile walk, but with the breeze in my face and the stars spread above me, I'd walk a hundred miles. The only thing I need is tucked into my sock. The tiny bit of paper Lory slipped past me before Grady led her away. Her name, her address, and her phone number. The sweet girl gave us everything we could need to find her. I just have to pray she’s still there.

On the outskirts of Holdridge, there's a dusty patch of land around half a mile from the road. There are five trees with gnarly roots and broad canopies, one of which is hiding something for me.

In the darkness, it's a struggle to find my way, so I'll have to go back. The money in the pocket of the pants supplied by Grady's brother-in-law won't get me far, but it's enough for a hotel room, a meal, some supplies, and a bus ticket if I need it.

It's almost dawn by the time I reach the street Lory lives on. Her apartment is above an old-fashioned shoe store, across from a dive bar where I used to hang out with my buddies. I pull a cigarette from the half-finished packet I brought with me. My hands are jittery, and I need the nicotine to take the edge off my nerves.

I get halfway through and decide to discard it. Thinking about what might happen next is only making me more nervous. A motorcycle passes me, and I instinctively turn my face into the shadows, conscious that my escape could be discovered at any time. I have to keep moving, or this might all be in vain.

My finger hovers over the buzzer to Lory's place. It's five a.m. and if she's home, she'll be sleeping. Maybe she has a man inside. The thought makes me fucking crazy with rage.

I press the buzzer, and it lights up, confirming it's working. Then I wait with my heart in my throat. Seconds pass.

Nothing.

I press again and turn, scanning the road. Standing in one place too long will get me caught.

Nothing.

Maybe she's gone already. It was always a risk. Her sister needed help and lived out of state. Maybe she used the money she got to be with us to travel.

“Hello.” Lory's sleep-husky voice travels through the intercom, filling the night air with sweetness.

“Lory. It's me. Open up.”

“What?” she asks, but the door buzzes open, and I'm inside like a flash. In the stairwell, I realize I don't know where I'm going, but locks slide, and a door opens upstairs, and I sprint to where I think she is. “Kinkaid?”

The hope in her voice sends my heart soaring. She's not scared that it's me. She didn't hesitate to let me in. On the second floor, she's there, peeking around her door with dark searching eyes, and for the first time since I went through puberty, tears prick behind my eyes.

“Lory.”

She pushes the door open and runs to me, in a tangle of messy hair and twisted pink pajamas, flying into my arms so hard, she knocks the breath from my lungs. I gasp to breathe her in, all strawberry shampoo and warm femininity. The lingering staleness of the pen fades to nothing.

“How?”

“I don't have long,” I say. “I need to leave the city. Will you come?”

“Yes.” It's said with no hesitation. “I need time to pack.” She glances back and drags me inside. She hasn't even asked me where we're going or if I can wait. “Hyde? Rock?”

“They're still inside. Bring what you can fit into a small suitcase. What you can't live without.”

“Okay.”

She closes the door behind us and throws her arms around me again, tugging at my neck so she can reach for a hard kiss. “I prayed,” she says against my lips. “I don't even know if I believe in God, but I prayed you'd all come for me.” She strokes her hand over my beard, eyes wide and smiling. “This is new. I like it.”

“Pack,” I urge her, grinning like I'm sixteen and drunk. The impulse to sink into her body and show her how much I crave her is fierce, but I won't give in to short-term desires when the chance we have at a future is within our grasp.

“Do you have a car?”

“I bought one when I got out.” She's already stuffing clothes and personal effects into a duffle. “My friend's brother helped me pick something good. I drove to help my sister and then came back, so I know it runs.” She bites her lip and fixes me with her liquid brown eyes. “I came back because I needed to be here where you could find me if you came looking.”

She came back to wait for us. Sweet girl. “I prayed, too,” I confess. “That you'd wait for me. That you'd say yes to being ours.”

“I'm yours.” The words are rushed as she grabs her phone, charger, and what looks like a small album of photos from a shelf, but they still slide inside me and wrap around my heart.

Her apartment is tiny and barren, and once she's packed, it's almost like she never lived here at all. My chest aches when I realize her life before Blackstone was as unsettled and empty as ours. I can make her a home that will be so much more than this. We can both be happy.

But the ghost of Whitaker Evans chooses right now to linger in the shadowed corners of this shitty apartment. Lory doesn't know what we did, and I can't base the life I'd risk everything for on a lie.

I rest my hand on her upper arm, and she stills, staring up at me. “I have to tell you something before we go. Something that might make you change your mind about coming with me.”

“No,” she breathes. “Nothing you tell me will do that.”

“The thing we did for Grady—”

“I know.” She lowers the shirt she was folding, giving me her full attention. “I know what you did.”

I blink in the darkness, so surprised, I take a step back. The floorboards creak beneath my feet. “How?”

“I looked at local news from before the auction. I saw the reports about Grady's niece and…” Lory shakes her head, her expression fierce and tense. “That man deserved what you did and more, Kinkaid.”

She knew about Whitaker, and she still ran into my arms. She knew, and she waited for us to come out so we could be together.

I close my eyes slowly, overcome with emotion. She knows, and she wants me… she wants us. The slate is wiped clean, but it isn't enough. I could leave the truth here, with her still half in the dark, but it's not fair, and I don't want something tarnished. I want the white sheets and the fresh start. I need to do this one thing right. I need to be honest.

“It wasn't just about Grady's niece,” I say.

Her eyebrows rise.

“Whitaker Evans wasn't new to hurting kids. He was an old hand… an old hand who'd already fucked up James' life fifteen years ago.”

Lory gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as tears fill her eyes. She knew he'd had a hard life. The scars he tried desperately to hide from her were evidence of that. But this is different. I touch her cheek. “Don't cry for him now,” I say. “We got the chance to destroy a monster, and we took it. I don't regret it. He was a worthless, terrible human being, and James needed to take revenge to hold on to his sanity. And we met you in the process.” She closes her eyes, leaning into the warmth of my palm. “If there was ever a silver lining in the world, Lory, it's you.”

She blinks, and her shoulders hitch. Then she kisses the center of my palm, and all the pent-up anxiousness about losing her leaves me.

“You're sure about coming?” I have to check one more time. I need to get back on track before they start looking for me. “Because if you are, we need to go.”

“Yes. Of course.” She continues packing like there's no more to say about it. She's made up her mind.

“We have to stop somewhere on the outskirts of town,” I say through a throat that's tight with emotion. “You have another duffle?”

“Yeah.” She takes a worn bag from the closet and tosses it to me. “You hungry?”

Her voice still sounds tight but with emotion rather than fear. She's still thinking about James and what happened to him.

“Bring whatever snacks you have.”

In less than ten minutes, with Lory now dressed in jeans and a black hooded jacket, we jog down the stairs. Out front, she unlocks an old gold, Corolla. Her brother's friend knows his stuff. These cars go on forever, and they're perfectly anonymous.

“You want to drive?” She holds out the keys.

“Better if you do,” I say. “I'll tell you where to go.”

Sleep-deprived and wired from nerves, we head out of town with the soft sounds of a country music station playing and the windows down. The air is cool, but the wind in my hair is a refreshing burst of freedom. I stare at Lory, overwhelmed by the way she looks in normal clothes, with her hair tied into a messy, tangled bun on the top of her head. She's wearing small round silver earrings now. They're plain and simple, and she deserves so much more.

I provide directions and avoid answering questions that won't serve either of us for her to know.

“If we're pulled over by the cops, I want you to tell them that I carjacked you, okay?”

“NO!” she says immediately, her horror causing her to take her eyes off the road. “Why?”

“Because I'm not risking you ending up in a place like that, Lory. You tell them that, okay, or I'll find another way to leave town.”

“Okay,” she agrees, but her knuckles are bone-colored where she's gripping the wheel so tightly. I know in my heart that she'd never throw me under the bus. Lory's loyal. She sold her body for her sister. She knows the depths of what I'm capable of and still wants to focus on the good. She'd do anything for the people she loves, and it's something I deeply respect about her.

When we reach the edge of the field, I tell her to pull over.

“Stay in the car,” I instruct, looking around to ensure the coast is clear before grabbing the empty bag.

The last time I walked across this rough ground, I had a gut instinct that shit was about to go sour. My supplier had been acting shady, and I'd felt the tingling sensation of eyes on me as I moved around the city. It was a risk to come here, but I slipped around town, changing my jacket and adding a hat and glasses to change my appearance. I buried a metal box beneath the tree and hid the small spade I used to dig in a high hollow of another tree.

That's where I head first, finding it rusted but in working order. Time has passed, and it's not the only thing that has changed over the years. I stand in front of the ground that could hold my future, years older and wiser. If the box has been discovered, it won't end my chance of a successful escape, but it'll make it more difficult.

I dig, finding the ground hard. When the spade hits metal, I breathe a sign of relief that my box is still there. It takes ten minutes to get it out, and I stuff it into the bag, pushing the soil back into the hole I've made. I replace the spade in the tree before I jog back to the car.

I'm sweating and panting as I tug the seat belt across my body, but I take a few seconds to stare at Lory. She's so pretty that it hurts my heart and makes it soar. She smiles at me, and it lights up the world. “Let's go.”

Lory nods, turning the key in the ignition, but I pull her in for a hard, desperate kiss before she can pull away. She goes limp in my arms, and we both pant with relief. Holding her face between my palms, I press my forehead to hers. “My name is Connor O'Reilly. Say it.”

“Connor O'Reilly.”

The passport contained in the box confirms it.

Kinkaid Callahan dies here. I don't give a fuck about leaving him behind. Connor has a chance to do better. Connor has wiped the slate clean.

Nodding, I smile. “Now drive, pretty girl. We've got somewhere to be.”