Kincaid: Cerberus Mc Book 1
Kincaid
By
Marie James
Kincaid
Copyright © 2016 Marie James
Editing by Mr. Marie James & Hale’s Harem Betas ;)
Cover design by Kari Ayasha of
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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“Weapon!” I hear one of the SWAT guys in front of me yell. The sound of weapons discharging rings out, lasting mere seconds.
I’m fourth in line behind three Denver Police Department SWAT Officers, which means we split off in all directions once we cross the threshold into the dank, dark home. The smell inside is putrid and makes me immediately feel the need to shower. Most meth houses are like this, and I cringe knowing that a child has been living in these conditions.
One officer begins checking pulses on the three individuals in the living room. Another officer splits off into a bedroom to clear the closet, and the third clears another bedroom, leaving me with the kitchen. I can easily tell there are no other visible threats, but a sound from behind a closed door draws my attention. With my M4 at the ready, I turn the door knob and tug the door open.
“Holy fuck!” I gasp when I see a woman curled up on the floor of the tiny closet. “Josie? Joselyne Bennett?” I say doing my best to gain some composure.
“Yes,” she mutters weakly.
I would’ve never told Kaleb this, but I was certain we’d find Josie dead if we ever found her body at all. My chest constricts the way it always does when a situation turns out opposite of how I imagined it. Absolute, pure joy is what I’m feeling at the moment, but my face falls when I see the condition she’s in. She’s not out of the woods yet.
“Girl, we’ve been looking for your ass everywhere!” I can hardly contain my joy at knowing my cousin will not have to deal with the death of the woman he loves.
“Jesus didn’t know I was in the closet?” she asks with a hoarse voice.
Jesus? She’s delirious, no doubt from being starved and hog-tied in here for weeks.
“You being here is a miracle, darlin’, but this ain’t heaven. My name is Diego Anderson, and I have a cousin that’s going to be beside himself knowing we found you.”
I can tell she’s trying and failing to open her eyes against what has to be blinding light for her.
“Kaleb,” she whispers, and I can see the tremble of her lip.
I step out of the way as the SWAT team leader enters the room. I leave the room to head outside planning to call Kaleb, but I find him standing in the hallway looking into one of the bedrooms. He’s sobbing uncontrollably having no concern for the tears rolling down his face.
I walk up and clasp him on the shoulder. “Kaleb,” I whisper trying to get his attention. “She’s asking for you, man.”
He turns so quickly toward me he nearly loses his footing. I look past him and wince as a clearly deceased woman comes into view.
“What?” he asks with a slight shake of his head.
“Josie, man,” I tell him gently pulling him from the doorway and down the narrow hall. “Keep your shit together in there, Kaleb. She’s been through hell and looks it,” I warn him. “But you have to keep it together, man.” He nods as he makes his way into the crowded kitchen.
At the sight of her curled up on a filthy blanket just outside of the door he gasps, both in relief and torment from seeing her like this. I keep my hand on his back until he crouches down beside her.
“Kaleb,” I hear her whisper.
“I’m here, Josie,” he returns leaning in to kiss her forehead.
Short of her never being abducted in the first place, this is the best outcome anyone could’ve ever asked for.
I’m trying to be as quiet as I can, but I can’t keep the hiss from slipping past my lips as I wrap the thick, elastic bandage around my ribs. I should probably go to the hospital, but I know there’s nothing they can do about ribs even if they’re broken and not just severely bruised. They don’t hurt as bad as they did last time, and I know it would only mean more trouble for me if I alerted anyone to my injuries.
Using makeup too dark for my complexion, I apply liberal amounts around my eyes and my left cheek. I get better at this part each time I upset my husband. I wish I could figure out a way to keep from making him angry, and I wouldn’t have had to watch YouTube videos on how to cover bruises and the proper way to breathe with broken ribs. It’s a very sad day when society has such problems that necessitate videos for abused women. It makes me wonder what women did decades ago when they didn’t have the wonderful internet to help them.
I do my best to cover the gash on my swollen lip with lipstick and think about what caused this latest episode.
“Care to explain this?” Bobby asks holding up a small envelope.
I’m very familiar with the tattered container. My heart immediately begins to pound in my chest as my steps falter. I just got out of the shower, and the only protection I have from what I’m certain is going to be a horrible beating is the thin towel I have wrapped around my body.
My eyes cut to his and back to the evidence in his hands. That envelope contains every penny I’ve been able to hide from him the last two years that I’ve been working at Drifter’s. It’s not as much as one would think considering I’ve been stockpiling for what seems like forever.
“Explain!” he shouts waving the five hundred and twenty-three dollars in front of me.
“I’m saving for your birthday,” I respond quickly and cringe when I realize my mistake.
“My birthday was last month you stupid bitch!” He pockets the money, seething with anger.
His first strike is a closed fist to my mouth.
I inch myself closer to the mirror to inspect the shield I have to use more often than not. I’d been saving that money to finally leave him for good. He’s alienated me from my entire family. Well, I only have a few cousins left. My parents have been gone for years, and I’m an only child.
I have no one; he’s made sure of that. At only twenty-four years old, I’m a shell of the person I used to be. I’ve been in this situation so long I don’t remember the last time I woke up feeling safe or without worry of being hurt before the sun set again.
I met Robert Mikaelson at a party my junior year in high school. He spent the next couple of years alienating me from my friends and family. By the time I graduated high school, he’d moved me out of Utah away from my cousins and the aunt who took me in after my parents died. I haven’t spoken to them since. Six years we’ve been in Colorado; six years he’s been all that I know. It’s exactly the way he wants it.
***
Like he always does after an incident at the house, Bobby is sitting in the corner of the bar watching my every move. His mood seems better now than it does most nights, and I know that’s because he’s drinking away the five hundred dollars I’d been saving. I’ll never see a penny of it.
I guess I should count my lucky stars that he didn’t hurt me as bad as he could. It’s certainly not the worst punishment he’s doled out over the years. I don’t even want to think about the time he did actually break my ribs. That pain was beyond excruciating. I know his excitement over having a wad of cash to spend played a large part in the lesser sanction.
I keep the fake smile on my face as I make my rounds in the bar, filling drink orders and delivering them. I quickly dash away thoughts of starting my nest egg back up, but the insidious thought keeps filling my head. I know I have to leave. I know eventually he’ll kick me in just the right spot, and I’ll never be the same again, or I’ll end up dead.
I’ve been hopeless for so long that the possibility seems more like a fairy-tale than a feasible outcome. Praying he dies in a car accident hasn’t worked no matter how many times I’ve begged God to take him away. I went to the police once. Once. That was all it took for me to realize that the fat guy working the front desk had no desire to help me. That cry for help landed me in the hospital for three days under the guise of falling down the stairs at the apartment complex. The doctors didn’t believe me but were too busy to dig any deeper. Thank God they didn’t, or I’d be dead right now.
Dead. Doesn’t seem like such a bad thing as I walk around barely able to take a deep breath with the pain I feel on the right side of my body. Steel toe boots, I’ve discovered, are no match for bones.
I can’t hide the genuine smile on my face when the bikers walk through the front door and make their way to the back corner table. There are four men rather than the usual three. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping the three guys would show up tonight. Well, two of them anyways; the third guy is kind of a creep, but the other two are super sweet and easy on the eyes.
