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I take whatever is left—some deodorant, soap, and a few other things.
I walk back into the main room and spot the photo of my parents on the wall. It’s the only one I have.
My heart breaks as I take it off the wall and look at their smiling faces. I’m about two years old in the photo. My father is looking so handsome in his military uniform as he holds me in his muscular arms. What I wouldn’t give to feel as safe in his arms right now as I did back then.
The last thing I take is the Christmas card that Jack sent me three years ago. It’s in the bottom drawer in the kitchen. It was under the placemats but those are now gone. I take the card and the envelope with his address on the back.
34 Silvergray Mountain, Greene Mountains, Montana.
I run my finger over the faded ink as Crenshaw’s girlfriend comes rushing back into my apartment.
“Haven’t you done enough?” I ask her. Why can’t she just leave me alone?
She shoves a wad of cash into my hand. “Take it.”
“How much money is this?” I ask, staring at it in shock.
“Just over five grand. Take it.”
“Won’t he hurt you when he finds out you stole it?”
She shakes her head. “He won’t find out. I’ve been taking a bit here and there and hiding it in the wall for the day it’s my turn to escape.”
“Oh,” I whisper as I really see her for the first time. She’s a victim too. Her eyes are tired and worn out like she’s seen way too much trauma for one lifetime. My heart goes out to her.
“I think I’ll go live in Cannes,” she says more to herself than to me. “I’ve been learning French.”
A flash of optimism burns in her eyes, but it flickers out as quickly as it was sparked.
“He’ll probably find me though…”
She catches herself and then shoves the money into my bag. “Be as careful as you can,” she warns. “He took your computer and went through your place so he has all of your info. No real names, no social media, no phones.”
She grabs my purse, pulls my phone out, and tosses it onto the counter. “He’ll track you down with it.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do anything without my phone?”
“You’re a smart girl,” she says as she thrusts my purse back into my hands. “You’ll figure it out. Just don’t mess up. He will find you if you make a mistake and he will come finish the job. He’ll send his whole crew after you. He’s relentless. He’s merciless.”
I swallow hard as I stare at the horror in her eyes. “Is that why you haven’t left?”
She nods, trying not to cry.
I put my hand on her shoulder and she shakes her tears away, suddenly back to business.
“Go somewhere far,” she warns. “Somewhere secluded where he won’t be able to track you down. It’s the only way.”
“Okay,” I whisper as I clutch the bag. Everything I have left is in this bag. “You get out too. As soon as you can. Go to Cannes and start over.”
A sad look washes over her face. She nods, but I can tell in her defeated eyes that she knows it’s just a dream. There will never be a Cannes. There will only be this. A living hell.
“Go!” she says, pushing me to the door. “And good luck.”
I take one last look at my ransacked apartment and hurry to my car.
Next stop, The Greene Mountains.
Chapter Two
Jack
“Who will be the next valiant warrior to step into the cage?” Marvin, the owner of the bar bellows into the microphone at the amped-up crowd. It’s a full house tonight, packed with the usual rag-tag truckers and tough ranchers, but it looks like we also have a college football team crammed into the seedy bar. They’re wearing their team colors—red and white, and are extra rowdy, pounding down beers and pounding on the tables. A few of them are looking like they’re ready to get into the cage and pound on something else.
“I’ll fight!” a big thick motherfucker shouts in a deep voice as he rises from the table. The football players hoot and holler all around him like a pack of rabid gorillas.
All eyes are on the beast as he charges through the crowd, elbowing and pushing everyone out of his way.
He marches up the steps into the steel cage. The plywood floor creaks under his weight. It was painted white years ago, but you can barely see it through all of the red blood stains streaked across it. I was the cause of many of those splatters. It’s not my blood though.
“We need a challenger!” Marvin shouts as he scans the suddenly mellowed-out crowd. No one meets his eye as the roided-up Goliath who looks like he was bred to be a linebacker struts around the cage behind him with his arms flexed.
