JR
Ijerk my head to the side. My need to vomit is so strong, I’d rather it roll down the side of the bed I’m chained to than choke on it. There’s no one to fetch the regurgitated meal Jae and I shared in the hotel room when I stupidly agreed to her suggestion to lay low for a couple of days.
It wasn’t my head speaking on my behalf. It was my heart and another region much lower that pumps just as much blood.
Jae fascinates me more than any woman ever has. It’s been that way since the day we met in the most unusual of circumstances…
“It’s okay. Stay where you are. Help is on the way.”
The ear-damaging shriek that hasn’t stopped piercing through my ears since Isaac’s kick to my head knocked me the fuck out doesn’t take away from the uniqueness of the female’s voice. It’s foreign but not from one nation or in an obvious manner. It’s pretty, which is an odd assessment for me to make while waking up in a sludgy marshland siding the road with no clue as to what the hell is happening.
I remember waking up with a massive headache within minutes of being knocked out, and Ophelia slapping Isaac over and over again before the confirmation I was unconscious, not dead, saw her falling back onto her knees at my side. I even remember her screaming at Dimitri through the jacked-up Bluetooth speaker in her outdated bomb that their plan was stupid and reckless, but I have no clue why I’m being assessed in an alligator-infested swamp by a beautiful mixed-race woman with dazzling green eyes.
Her face is so flawless, I begin to suspect that Isaac killed me, but my soul isn’t clean enough to enter heaven’s gates without additional scrutiny. It’s plausible considering how unblemished my savior’s face is. Her skin is without a single flaw, and the lightness of her eyes in comparison to her almost black hair makes her even more fascinating.
She is beautiful. A true angel from above.
“I need you to stay still. Internal injuries are impossible to comprehend in these conditions.”
“My s-sister,” I stammer out, my voice drowned out by the thrumming of my pulse in my ears. “I was t-traveling with my s-sister.”
Even though my memories are hazy at best, I remember the disgusted look on my father’s face when I groggily slid into the passenger seat of Ophelia’s car. He refused to call an ambulance. His reasoning, if I could walk, I didn’t require medical assistance.
Ophelia didn’t agree with his assessment, and since her screamed terms were overheard by more than the men paid to answer our father’s every whim, a blond man on Isaac’s side of the ring during our fight guided me to Ophelia’s car that was covered with so much dust it seemed as if it hadn’t left the warehouse parking lot for weeks.
We commenced our travels shortly after that, but that’s where my memories come up blank. I don’t even recall which direction we headed when we left the lot. My brain is a muddled mess of confusion.
When I attempt to knock some sense into myself, the pulsating of the blood in my ears drops to my stomach. I slant my head away like my savior’s voice is adding to the ringing in my ears instead of decreasing it.
I don’t mean to be rude. The pain is just too intense not to respond.
Some benefit comes from the change-up, though. Not only does the vomit racing from my stomach to my throat spill onto the ground instead of in my rescuer’s lap, it also has my eyes stumbling onto a wreckage.
My sister’s Honda Civic is wrapped around a large tree.
She’s still fastened into the driver’s seat.
“Ophelia!”
I race toward the wreckage like my wrist, ribcage, and left shoulder aren’t busted up.
My speed is fast, but it has nothing on the determination of the stranger wanting to keep my soul as unblemished as her face. “It’s too late. She’s gone.” As her almond-shaped eyes bounce between mine, she spreads her hands across my chest, slicing its ache in half. “She’s been gone for hours.”
It takes my woozy head a couple of seconds to understand what she’s saying, but when the truth finally dawns, my composure circles the drain right along with its gruesome acknowledgment.
“No!” I yank at my drenched hair, hopeful the pain it causes will stop my head from registering the image of my baby sister slumped over the steering wheel. “We o-only just traveled d-down this road. We left the warehouse thirty minutes ago, i-if that…” When my eyes drop to my watch, my voice lowers to that of a whisper. It exposes that my fight with Isaac ended four hours ago. “I-It can’t be right. We j-just drove down this r-road.” I return my eyes to my savior. “There c-could still be time. We could s-save her.”
“No,” she whispers in a heartbreaking tone before she once again steps into my path. Her tiny height and svelte frame shouldn’t be capable of blocking the image tearing my heart in half, but somehow it does. She’d be around the same height as Ophelia—pocket-sized yet formidably strong. “Trust me, she’s gone. There’s nothing you can do for her…”
“S-She’s my sister. Myb-babysister.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” Her tone is genuinely remorseful. “But she’s been dead for quite a while…” As her words trail off, her noticeably slim nose screws up. “Do you smell that?” She twists her torso so she’s facing the mangled wreck before flaring her nostrils. “Does that smell like gasoline to you?”
When I glance in the direction she’s peering, the situation goes from bad to worse. A blacked-out SUV is parked behind Ophelia’s car. There’s only one association I know who gets around in pimped-out Range Rovers. It’s the same entity who refuses to leave a body.
“Is that your car? Where did you park?”
In my panic, my questions come out without the stutter my voice is rarely without.
