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“These men are so bossy and controlling. And you like it?” Ayana asked me, and I nodded.
“Yup, sure do. I love Lock’s dominant side. It makes me feel secure and safe, assures me that he has me. That’s the best way to explain it. Now I don’t just take it from anyone. I’d be damned if, let’s say, my boss stepped into my office and said, ‘Go and get me a cup of coffee and if you’re late, there’ll be consequences.’”
“Whoa…” Ayana raised her hand and leaned back from me, eyes narrowing. “No one said anything about consequences. What do you mean by that?”
Shit…
Loose fucking lips sinks ships, doesn’t it?
I tried to think of a lie to tell Ayana when my cell started buzzing.
I smirked, reached for the device eagerly, and checked the screen. The number came up unavailable. I never ignored numbers like that. It could be someone calling for help or Garrett and Reed calling from some burner phone.
I raised a finger, requesting a minute.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank god you answered your phone. I need your help.”
I recognized the voice immediately. “Ansley?” I whispered, covering my mouth and the receiver as I spoke.
“Yeah, it’s me. I have a problem, and I need your help.”
I tensed, hoping she wasn’t going to say that her boyfriend had found her. If that happened, it meant she broke protocol and my life, as well as Reed’s and Garrett’s lives, could be in danger.
I remained calm, considering I had an audience and replied, “What can I help you with?”
“I’m in town.”
“You’re what?!” I exclaimed, eyes wide, not hiding the shock and fear on my face. “What do you mean you’re in town? How could that be?”
“I drove. Don’t worry, I used the ID you gave me. And I was careful.”
“Ansley…” I called out in warning, closed my eyes, and let dread rush through my body. This was bad on so many levels.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, Phoebe, I promise.”
Nothing about this was fine. For one, I had screwed up this case big time from the beginning and I had hoped that once she was gone my mistakes wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
The first mistake, I told her my real name.
I had met Ansley Ruiz at one of the shelters I volunteered at on the weekends. She and I were the last to leave the shelter, and she invited me to her apartment for drinks. I had been feeling really low that night and agreed to hang out with her. This was way before I told her I could help her disappear.
Anyway, at the time, I didn’t know who she was or what happened to her, per se. She volunteered her time just like I had done, so I didn’t see any harm in getting to know her. We had a great time together laughing, talking, enjoying each other’s company. We had drinks, and she made this macaroni and tuna dish, which was good, surprisingly.
As the alcohol loosened our lips, I told her my story, all of it. She gave me hers too, which surprised me to no end. I didn’t expect to find out she had been abused. I never saw her sharing her stories at the shelter like I had done on many occasions, nor did she talk about herself with anyone.
Her story turned out to be just like the countless others I had heard. She had gotten mixed up with a guy that wasn’t good for her. They fell in love immediately, and she moved in with him months later with a promise of ever after.
She had explained how things were wonderful between them until he started using drugs and drinking more than usual. That’s when the beatings started. Sheclaimedhe didn’t hit her often, only if she did something he didn’t like. I wanted to tell her that one time was too many, but I didn’t. She had told me that one night he came home with a friend of his, drunk and high as hell. She had made the mistake of smiling at his friend when he was introduced, and her husband accused her of flirting and cheating. He beat her until she passed out.
The next day, she packed what little she had and left. That had been two weeks prior to our drinking night. She feared it was only a matter of time before he discovered the fake name she had been using and found her. She was sure that if he found her, he was going to kill her for leaving.
I agreed and in a drunken haze and through tears falling down my face, I told her I could help her disappear.
I told her about the underground movement of women helping other women escape abuse. I explained that I was one of those women and that I’ve helped others who’ve come to the shelter seeking to disappear. I went into details, trying to convince her I could help. I agreed with her that it was only a matter of time before her husband would find her if he was as powerful as she claimed. Allowing me to help her disappear for good was the only way she could live a regular and safe life.
It didn’t take long for her to think about it before she agreed. I hadn’t told Reed or Garrett that she knew my real name and that she had my phone number. I never gave that information out to those I helped. Even the shelters didn’t know my real name. Ansley did.
