Dark (Beautiful Ashes #1) (3 page)

Chapter
Four

Tar woke up to a peculiar feeling. A grief he never knew existed overtook him as he sat up, looking around. He wanted to be careful not to harm the sleeping, wounded beauty beside him as he moved to stand. That was when his brain came fully online. “Where the hell is she?” he asked as panic began to fill him. He took a calming breath before searching the most logical of places, the bathroom. No Keeley. Next, he combed the halls. Again, nothing. He went to the bedroom they had been in. Nada. Terror locked into his muscles as Tar forced himself to keep looking for her, all the while he called out, “Miiiiiiiitch!”

“Shit, man, you trying to wake the dead?” He stood there in a sleep haze and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Keeley’s gone,” Tar grit out, fighting like hell to tamp back the howl.

“No. That’s not possible. Did she go to the bathroom?”

Tar’s hands grabbed a hold of Mitch’s T-shirt as he slammed his friend against the wall, hard. “Don’t y’think I’ve already checked every conceivable place by now?!”

“Hey, bro. Easy. Let me go so I can help ya find her.” Mitch knew he was dealing with a live grenade and handled him with extreme caution. He’d seen Tar like this only once before and it damned near destroyed him. He wouldn’t let his brother-in-arms go back there. Not ever.

Reason returned to Tar’s features as his grip loosened enough for Mitch to step out of the line of fire. The two men searched the entire building and surrounding area before they finally came to terms with what neither wanted to admit: Keeley left without a trace. What the hell did they do now? They couldn’t call for backup. No one else was aware of her being on the premises. Mitch stayed true to his word and kept it on the down low. He knew Tar wanted no part of this gig any longer. Though he was the best in the field, Mitch respected his wishes. Tar pulled him from his musings. “I have to go. Now.”

“Wait.” Mitch tried to reason. “You have no clue where she could’ve gone. And honestly, she still needs medical attention in her condition.”

“She won’t go to a hospital. Too many questions.”

“Alright. So then, where?” Mitch queried, knowing their best bet was to contact his boss.

Tar shot him a pointed look. “Don’t you even fucking think about it. Clark is to never know. Clear?”

“Roger that. What are you going to do?” Mitch asked as he followed Tar out of the door.

“Anything I have to. She needs me. I’ll be damned if I sit around wondering what if when I can do something to help her.”

Mitch nodded as he clapped Tar on the shoulder. “I hope you find her, man.”

Tar was already zoning in on every possible scenario and route Keeley could have taken. He
would
find her. Question was, could he get to her in time before another horrible thing befell the woman he loved? As he made his way down the alley, Tar accepted—failure was
not
an option. He’d die trying. And that was all there was to it.

*****

Keeley slunk down the cold, dirty cement wall of an abandon warehouse. Place smelled of urine and feces. The urge to throw up caused her mouth to fill with saliva, but she knew her stitches would most likely tear if she did. Therefore, she battled her body’s natural reaction to the rancid air, wincing and breathing heavily from exertion as well as pain. Ungodly agony had taken up residence in her body as she actually prayed for death. Something she had done once before. She fought hard for some sort of tether to reality as memories tugged at her consciousness.

The dungeon was freezing as she hung shackled to the wall in iron manacles. A scene straight out of medieval times, the monster approached. This time he held a red hot coal at the end of iron pinchers. God, he was as sick as they came, or perhaps that was her. The sight of him taunting with something that would scar at best, kill at worst, made her soaking wet and was what saved her that night from him ramming said coal into places she’d never recover from. Instead he used another torture device, one that did its job thoroughly. Keeley had learned, while recovering in the hospital with her sister and now brother-in-law, that once freed from the former senator, her odds were less than one percent of ever having children.

Now, that tiny sliver of hope was gone. She began to wail and slammed her head against the filthy graffiti wall. Blessedly just as the vomiting erupted, she fell into the abyss that beckoned her.

*****

Viv had finally caught up to her prey and discovered she was too late. Or well, just in time, to confirm Keeley Kincaid never testified against her. The dead couldn’t talk. Thank the powers that be for that one. Still, she needed to be absolutely certain the tiny woman caused her no more anxiety. With a stealth she’d developed well over the years, she made her way over to the fay-like girl choking on her bile. She watched in fascination as the body fought for survival. Her physician’s instincts warred with her newest appetite—taking lives instead of saving them. Again, she could thank her former employer, Senator Caleb Reynolds, for her new hobby of choice. Somehow murdering the serial killer flipped a switch inside her. One that was bloodthirsty and yearned for more with each life she took.
All for medical purposes
, she argued with herself. But deep down she knew that wasn’t the case. Her laughter echoed off the walls as the struggle for life continued.

Viv turned to leave, knowing Keeley had maybe one more minute before death won, when the unexpected occurred. The girl’s body fell at an angle that actually opened her airway.
Pfft…what were the odds?
As if that weren’t enough, out from under a tarp, a homeless woman crept forward. Viviane’s mood lifted as she knew how ruthless the streets could be. She rubbed her hands together. “Yes,” she suggested from the dark corner she hid in, “kill her.”

But the woman did the most unexplainable. She swept a finger inside Keeley’s mouth, fully clearing it. Next, she pulled something out from under her coat. It was a plain brown paper bag. Viv watched in fascination. Would the transient suffocate Keeley? The woman pulled out what appeared to be rolls of gauze and placed them between Keeley’s legs. How the hell did she miss that? Blood was pooled there, but in the poor visibility it looked like oil. So many acrid odors hung in the air that Viv simply didn’t recognize it for what it was. She noted the homeless woman seemed to know exactly how to treat the wounded girl. Viv was about to take matters into her own hands, for Keeley could not survive this night, when she saw the syringe going into the vein of Keeley’s arm.

She backed further away, acknowledging this was the best thing that could ever happen: Give a recovering junkie a fix and watch the addiction slowly take them down. Didn’t matter if Keeley miraculously lived through it, the drugs would eat away at her as the demon took control. One way or the other, Keeley Kincaid was no more. Her sister couldn’t save her. No one would be able to. Statistically she would lose her mind.

Fucking
perfect
way to seal her fate. Now if Keeley did talk, she wouldn’t be believed. Viv chortled all the way to the unremarkable sedan parked in the alley. As she climbed in, a cold familiar voice met her. “Excellent. She’ll be ours again soon.”

She nodded to the specter in the backseat. “Yes, Master.”

*****

She told herself to just leave the girl to die. Wasn’t the first one, wouldn’t be the last one she’d seen pass away on these godforsaken streets. Yet the nurse in her couldn’t just watch and do nothing. Funny how that training came back when it was needed most. Her leg had been crushed in that horrific accident, which stole all she lived for, so she couldn’t pick up the small girl fighting to survive. Instead, she gave her a good dose of morphine and dragged her to the hole underneath the tarp. Inside the warehouse, she’d made herself a nice little nest. It was warm and dry and as clean as possible in those conditions. She changed the dressings on the surgical wound as well as checked all the others. This girl had quite a story to tell. Once everything was tended to, she wrapped her patient in a warm blanket while singing. Her daughter had loved for her to sing when she was home sick from school. The song that was her precious little girl’s favorite “Blackbird” came out in perfect pitch and tone. She’d always preferred Sarah McLachlan singing the old Beatles tune.

The girl moaned, “Laaaaacey.”

She leaned over, stroking the pixie’s hair. “Who is Lacey, hon?”

No reply came, just more groaning of someone in great pain. More morphine was needed but there wasn’t any to give her. Rummaging through a bag, she found some generic acetaminophen. A bottle of water in hand, she took the pills over to the girl writhing in agony. “Hey, now. You’re going to hurt yourself. Here,” she lifted the patient’s head and placed a pill in her mouth, then poured some water, “swallow. That’s right. Good job. One more time. Perfect.”

She laid the patient back down once her mouth was clear. A tiny hand latched around hers as she turned. “Pl-please…sing.”

She grinned down at the girl and repeated what she’d always said to her daughter, “As you wish.” Tears spilled freely as those memories resurfaced, and she sang her heart out for the petite woman fighting so hard to live.

*****

Keeley woke up to a beautiful, melodic voice. At first, she thought it was an angel. But quickly reminded herself that if she were dead, angels would not be who greeted. Shivers traveled up and down her spine at the acknowledgment that demons were her companions. The singing silenced. Above her was a pretty oval face. She was maybe thirty, possibly thirty-five. In need of a shower, but not really that dirty. Shelter came to mind. Keeley knew all too well how to survive on the streets. This woman had a fairly nice setup from what she could see.

“How are you feeling, hon?”

Keeley answered honestly, “Like hell.”

“To be expected,” she answered with a warm chuckle, then grew serious. “Want to tell me why you were not in a hospital right after surgery?”

Keeley quirked a brow. “How did you know that?”

“Spent a few years as an ER nurse. I’d say you’ve had major surgery within the last seventy-two hours.” Another chill danced across Keeley as she recognized what it was from just when the nurse confirmed, “You were an addict.”

No point in lying. “Yes. And you gave me morphine?”

“Very low dose, but your body knows what it now craves. I am sorry.”

Keeley shook her head. “Not your fault. Fire was my downfall, but it all started with oxy.”

“Fuck! I’ve really screwed you up,” she began to cry and stood wringing her hands.

“Rehab. Could you get me to one that would keep my identity off record?”

The nurse scoffed, “Sure, let me just call the rich and famous for you.”

“I-I’m sorry. Not thinking clearly.”

“Of course you’re not. And I’m the one that needs to apologize. Let me think about it. There may be a way to get you help through the church where they wouldn’t need any name but the one you want to give.”

Keeley sneered, “Church is the
last
place I would be welcomed.”

The nurse patted her arm. “You’d be surprised. At least let me look into it for you. Decision is ultimately yours.”

“Totes,” Keeley replied. “Do you have a name?”

A sad little smile appeared. “My name is not important.”

Keeley nodded. “How about I call you Angel?”

“Why in the world would you call me that?!”

“Because you’re mine. If it wasn’t for you,” Keeley swallowed on the emotions rising, “I’d be dead.”

“Yes. If that dreadful woman who found you first had her way, you most definitely would.”

Keeley blinked as a new fear increased her heartbeat. The loud
thump-thump-thump
was all she could hear. After a deep breath, she asked the one question she didn’t want an answer to. “Did she have bleach-blonde hair?”

“Why yes. How did you know?”

Keeley never answered, passing out on the confirmation.

Chapter
Five

Recognizance on the old warehouse was a necessity. Tar felt it in his bones. A hunch he couldn’t shake. The gut didn’t lie so he
knew
he found her. But where was she? He approached the east side, facing the alley, and
bingo,
confirmation was on the ground in a dried pool of blood. He didn’t need any more proof than that. Plus, someone had dragged her. Tracks led him to a tarp, but then it all disappeared. Training and full-on knowledge told him there was an entrance there, somewhere. He tapped along the wall and once more hit pay dirt. The hole was small and required him to get down on his stomach, crawling through reminded him of basic training some ten years ago. His eyes adjusted to the change in lighting as he scanned the premises. Whoever’s setup this was made it as close to a home as possible. Impressive actually. He calculated there were at least two people here, recently. More evidence was there that one was wounded, and the other had an immobile leg. Drag marks led through the building, but he lost them once the flooring changed.

Damn.

Tarius McNeal was a patient man; he’d wait for their return. In the meantime, he’d get to know who was assisting Keeley. Better yet, why? His examining provided him with the information needed. Someone with medical training had lent a hand. For the first time since Keeley’s disappearing act, he took a deep breath. At least she was somewhat safe. The Good Samaritan had tended to her, replaced her dressings. Gratitude filled him as he found even more proof that this person meant to help, not harm her. Who was this angel? A new quest pushed him on until he uncovered some old newspaper articles. Not uncommon to find with the homeless, but these were handled with care and put away with a semblance of cherished treasure. What he found was the obituary of a doctor and his daughter.

The doc was in his third year of residency at the busiest hospital in the Los Angeles area. Place was its own warzone. But that wasn’t cause of death. Seemed they were hit head-on by an eighteen-wheeler on a sharp curve leading into the Adams Hill area, most likely where they lived. Why was the tractor trailer up in a residential area? Ah, there it was—another article of the accident. The driver got turned around and was attempting to get back to the state route. Due to low visibility, he didn’t see the car carrying the family. Were there any survivors?

And there it was:
Lone survivor of the fatal crash that claimed truck driver, Roger Mills, Doctor Ryan Corbet and his nine-year-old daughter, Lucy, was Mrs. Shelby Corbet.
Further reading gave Tar the rest of the story and information. Nurse Shelby was thirty-four years old and had been married for eleven years when the accident stole her entire family. A lone tear fell for this woman who had recently lost it all, yet she was still a caregiver at heart. An honest to God angel swooped in to save Keeley.

Question was, where did they go?

Better yet, why would they leave?

Tar poked around some more through Shelby’s stuff before scoping out the rest of the building. The warehouse was abandoned and housed several homeless. Not nearly as many as he thought should be there, telling him the place was recently vacated. Word wasn’t out yet—another plus for Keeley. He constantly worried for her safety, especially some asshole raping her. He knew she’d lived through that hell once before, but she didn’t need a repeat. Tar spent the night in the warehouse, but Shelby and Keeley did not return. Could he have been wrong? Just as he was about to ditch the location, Shelby appeared.

He locked eyes on the nurse who he was sure saved Keeley. “Where is she?” Unable to contain his anxiety as she eyed him warily.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you in here?”

His patience was damned near nonexistent, but he knew to tread lightly. “Tarius McNeal. I’m looking for my girlfriend who recently had surgery and was severely injured in an attack.”

“Oh my, God. She told me no one would be looking for her.” Shelby was wringing her hands, worried that this man would blame her somehow. More sinister doubts began to fill her. Did he attack her? Was he trying to finish what he started and kill her? “I don’t know who you are referring to.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest. She was lying. He needed to gain her trust. “I’m not the sicko who hurt her if that’s what you’re nervous about.” He held his palms out. “I’d never harm her.”

The nurse in her was gaging his honesty. She knew his hands held out that way was a show of peace. “I helped a young woman the other night. Some lady was fixated on watching her choke in the alley.”

“Woman?” Tar tilted his head. “Did she seem to know Keeley?”

“Who’s Keeley?”

Smart girl. Even in distress, she didn’t give her name. “Could you describe the woman you helped?”

She sniffed indignantly. “Of course. Petite, warm brown eyes, dark blonde hair, maybe twenty-three, had recent surgery to her lady parts and was stitched up all over from knife wounds.”

Tar exhaled heavily. “That’s her. Where is she?”

Shelby leveled her gaze on his. “She needed blood. I don’t exactly have a way to give a transfusion.”

“You took her to a hospital?” His voice gave away his horror.

“No. Give me
some
credit,” she said with a lift to her chin.

Tar instantly respected the hell out of this Florence Nightingale. “My apologies, ma’am.”

“Shiiiiit. Law enforcement or military?” She slid her wounded leg to make a quick getaway. The fact she got around as well as she did without crutches or a cane said a lot about the willpower in this strong woman. A strength Tar knew all too well when fate stepped in and took everyone you cared for away.

“SEAL. I’m not here to turn you in. Honestly, I’m just trying to find Keeley. I need to know she’s okay.” Emotions took over as his voice warbled and his bottom lip held a tremor. His hand scrubbed his face. “Please. I love her. I only want to help her.” His eyes were downcast until he heard the slight sob.

Shelby couldn’t control the tears. The poor man meant her no harm, and Keeley was a lucky girl to have such a wonderful guy out searching for her. She made the decision despite the promise she’d given her patient. “There’s a don’t ask, don’t tell clinic I left her at.”

“Underground medical treatment?” His brow arched with the inquiry.

“Yes. Not everyone can afford it. Some won’t get help from those who follow protocol.”

“True.” He fixed a hard stare on her. “It’s not a chop ‘em up for money type place?”

She gasped, “Nooooooo.”

“May I have the location?”

Shelby already decided to give him the information before he’d asked. She went over to her shelf and grabbed a piece of paper, scribbling what he needed to know. Wasn’t an address per se, more of a turn right at the green dumpster kind of details, she handed it over as he held onto her hand. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

She shook her head. “My family is gone. But thank you.”

“You need to know this isn’t the last you’ll see of me,” he declared.

“Duly noted.” She gave him a half-smile that still held so much sadness.

“Thank you for watching over her. You really are an angel.”

Shelby barked out a laugh that shocked even her. Her hand covered her mouth as surprised by it as Tar was. “Your Keeley called me that, too.”

“Then it must be true,” he said with sincerity.

She hobbled over to a crate and sat down. “You best be going now.”

Tar nodded, taking the hint as he walked away. He was good on his word, he’d be back. Shelby deserved a second chance at life. At love. At happiness. If he could help in any way, he owed it to her.

*****

The directions weren’t hard to follow, but gaining access proved to be more difficult than Tar expected. He needed in the damn place, now. His training kicked into high gear telling him what was necessary, a liaison. Someone they trusted. Shelby could provide that, however, he had no desire to drag her down there. The dude taking on duties as security screamed military background. Tar took a chance and barked orders. “Stand down, soldier. I’m on a mission and you are prohibiting me.”

“Sir. Yes, Sir.” The security officer stood at attention.

“Is your superior on the premises?”

“Affirmative, Sir.”

“Take me to him.”

“Her, Sir. And I can’t leave my post.”

“Roger that. Point me where I need to go.” For a beat, Tar wasn’t sure he convinced the younger man. Shit!

The security guard radioed ahead, receiving clearance. “Go ahead, Sir. First left, there’s an office. She’s expecting you in the next two minutes.”

Tar didn’t hesitate and took the opening provided. He had half a mind to just blow past the office, but knew that would delay finding Keeley. So he decided to meet this woman and hope for the best, until he heard a scream. Fuck protocol. He took off at a dead run.

What greeted him was straight out of a nightmare. Keeley was up on the table, blood dripping down her legs and ripped stitches. He saw the scalpel in her hand. Worse…he locked eyes with the demon in control. “Who the hell gave her drugs?” he roared in absolute fury.

The doctor shot him an indignant glance. “She was in excruciating pain.”

“Yeah. Well, now, she’s out of her ever-lovin’ mind.”

“Damn. Addict.”

“Ah Captain Obvious, nice of you to show up.”

A metal bed pan went careening past the good doctor’s head as Tar jerked his arm, pulling him out of the line of fire. Something was off. She should’ve been in a blissful state, not crazed. “Was she given other drugs?”

“I-I don’t know. I just got here.”

“Wait a fuckin’ minute! You mean to tell me you gave her meds without checking her goddamn chart?” Incredulous at the gall this doctor had.

“We don’t have…” He never finished what he meant to say, at that particular moment, Keeley hit her target.

Doc was down for the count, leaving Tar to talk some sense into her. She might look like the woman he loved, but Tar wasn’t born yesterday. The person off her rocker before him wasn’t someone he could reason with. His brain quickly gave him the data necessary to subdue her. To the right were handcuffs, yet in her state, she’d have the strength of ten men. As much as he hated the next option, it was the only one that made sense. He needed to tranquilize her like a damn animal. Tar’s heart rebelled, but his head knew it was the only chance.

The moan from the floor told him he had only a couple of minutes at best. Studying what lay there in plain view, he recognized what he needed: chlorpromazine. He really didn’t relish giving her dopamine, however, his choices were limited. And yes, he was fully aware he could permanently damage her brain beyond repair. He stalked forward. Keeley cocked her head to one side as if she were attempting to solve a calculus equation. Tar never took another step, piercing pain shot through his neck as a needle dug deep and cruel.

The large man fell in a heap as a stern woman looked down in disgust. “Damn men charging in to save the day.” She nudged him with her foot ensuring he was out cold.

Her gaze rose to Keeley, who began tearing at her stitches, as she screamed, “TARIUS!” before the tranq gun went off from the floor. Keeley fell off the bed and slammed her head against the concrete in a sickening crack.

“Wonderful, dumbshit,” the woman growled as she rushed over to the patient. “We’ll be damn lucky if you didn’t scramble her brains.”

“Won’t that make it easier?” he inquired, standing up.

“They don’t take ‘em if they aren’t fully functioning human beings,” she answered in disgust.

“Well, damn. Let’s get to work and make sure she is one then. I need that money.”

The woman smiled in a mean way. “If you fucked her up beyond help, I’ll do the same to you tenfold.”

He blanched. She was good on her threats, and he knew it all too well. Gloving up, he began to work on the beautiful, young woman before him. God, if he desired women, he’d want to fuck this one. Absently he shot a sidelong glance at the men removing the massive guy on the floor. Sad really. But not his concern, he had a small window to work with before the patient was no longer viable. And since he valued his brilliant mind, he needed to use it wisely.