Maybe Always (Maybe Series Book 3) (10 page)

I narrow my eyes at him. I hate him. I hate the tone of his voice as he threatens my life. It’s so casual, yet I can tell it excites him, thinking about killing me. I realize I might have chosen wrong. I don’t know what the next test is. I don’t know if I can do it. If one of the tests involves killing someone innocent, I don’t think I’ll be able to do it. It might have been easier to marry him and sleep with him. And, if that is the case, I might as well take his gun and pull the trigger myself because I can’t let that happen.
 

Instead, I grab the doorknob again, and I leave without another word to Nacio. He doesn’t get to see my fear. He doesn’t get to know that I’m already dead.
 

I walk back to the room that Nacio told me was mine. I open the door and step inside that smelly, dark room. I don’t bother turning on the lights when I enter. I prefer the darkness right now. I close the door behind me, and I lock it, but I know the flimsy lock will be useless. If any of the men decide that they want to come in, they can do so without putting a drop of effort into it.
 

I walk through the room, passing bunk bed after bunk bed. I only stop when I bump my leg against the corner of one of the bunks in the far corner of the room. I look at the sheets on the bottom bunk that I know have never been washed. This is as good as it is going to get right now.
 

Unless I say yes to Nacio. Then, I could sleep where he sleeps. I could sleep in a nice, plush bed that I’m sure is fit for a king instead of this dank, dark room.
 

I try not to think about Nacio as I lie down on the bed. I don’t bother to crawl under the covers. I just lie right on top. I don’t take my clothes or shoes off either. I can’t stand to take my clothes off—not in a place like this, with men like this. I need to be able to make a quick escape even though I know that a quick escape doesn’t exist, not unless the escape is at the end of a gun.
 

Tears begin falling in cascades now. Tears that should have fallen long ago now make their way down my face until my eyes are burning from the smeared mascara and eye shadow that sting my eyes from not washing it off in days. I need to shower. I need clean clothes. I need makeup.
 

But my needs seem silly compared to what I just witnessed today. I saw a girl die because of me. She died simply because she looked like me. That’s a terrible reason to die. And that’s a terrible reason to watch someone die.
 

I close my eyes, trying to push the woman out of my head, but her blue eyes and blonde hair keep coming back to haunt me. There is nothing I can do about it. I will never be able to sleep again.
 

I open my eyes. I don’t see anything but darkness. My head hurts like a motherfucker. I try to rub my head to ease some of the pain, but my arms are met with resistance. Rope is wrapped tightly against my arms, keeping them tied behind my back. I try to slip my hands out of the rope, but it is no use. Whoever tied my hands behind my back has done this a time or two. They knew what the fuck they were doing. I won’t be able to break free. Houdini couldn’t break out of these ropes.
 

My shoulders begin hurting from being in an awkward position, and I feel the ropes burning into my wrists. I don’t care though. The pain actually makes me feel better. It reminds me of my mission. It reminds me that I have to seek my revenge for Kinsley. I just have to figure out how to get out of here first.
 

The box truck bounces as we go over a bump. My head bounces hard against the truck wall.
 

“Fuck,” I moan as the pounding in my head gets worse.
 

I try to figure out my surroundings in the back of the truck, but it is hard in the darkness. It’s not the same truck that Santino and I rode in when we broke out of jail. This truck is much smaller than that one, and as far as I can tell, I am the only one or thing back here.
 

My legs aren’t tied, just my hands, so I adjust them to push against the wall until I’m in a standing position. I walk slowly to the back door of the truck, trying not to fall, despite how the truck bounces at every curve. If I could get the door open, then I could jump and make a run for it. It would be risky, but what other option do I have? My only other option is to stay in the truck and wait for them to kill me. Even if they don’t kill me, whatever they have planned for me can’t be good. I know that much. And I’m not going to just sit on my ass and wait to find out.
 

I just wish I knew where I am. Somewhere rural? Urban? The middle of nowhere?

If I’m going to make a break for it, I would much rather do it somewhere urban where I can get to a phone. To people. If I break out in the middle of nowhere, I don’t stand a chance. They could take their time in tracking me down with guns. They could run me over with the truck. I’d be fucked.
 

I can’t focus on that though. There are no windows, so I have no idea where we are. All I need to focus on is getting this fucking door open and then running as fast as I can. And, if I die, so be it.
 

I put my foot down where the latch is and pull hard until it turns over. I’m a little shocked that it actually worked. I thought for sure they would have put a lock on the outside of the door. These guys aren’t as experienced as I first thought.
 

I regain my balance as we round another corner, and then I put my foot back under the latch. My heart is beating fast. This is it. As soon as I lift it, the door will make a loud noise, alerting the driver that it is open. So, no matter what I see on the other side, I have to be ready to run as soon as I open the door.
 

The truck slows a little, and I know this is my chance. I lift my foot hard and fast, trying to give as much momentum to get the door moving upright. It moves about halfway open. It’s enough for me to jump out.
 

Buildings
. I see large buildings.
Thank God. I have a chance.
 

I don’t have time to decide which building is my best bet to run toward. I don’t have time to make a plan. I just run. I jump from the truck, somehow landing my feet on what I realize is a rocky dirt road instead of the pavement it should be in such an urban area. I don’t have time to think about it though. I just run.
 

I run straight ahead for a block and then duck down an alleyway. I don’t hear the truck turn around behind me. I don’t hear footsteps either, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t there. I keep running down the alleyway, trying to get as far away as possible, before I decide to duck in somewhere to get help.
 

But, as I run, I begin to lose hope that I’m going to find anyone who can help me. As I run, I realize where I am—the one place I never wanted to return to yet knew I would have to one day.
 

Yet this is the one place I wanted to be. This is where I’ll get revenge for Kinsley. This is where I’ll make things right. But I won’t find help here because there is no one here who can help. There’s only darkness and hatred. Only danger.
 

I keep running though, hoping I can find someplace to duck inside to stay hidden, until I can get these ropes off and find a weapon so that I can kill them.
 

But I don’t get the chance.
 

I turn the corner, and Santino is standing with a gun pointed at me. I freeze. I consider turning and running in the opposite direction, but I was wrong. These guys are experts. They do this for a living. If he pulls that trigger, he won’t miss, so I don’t move. This isn’t my chance. I will have to try again—if I get another chance.
 

Santino walks slowly toward me, the gun pointing straight at my head. I don’t focus on the gun. I don’t know if it’s my training or what that tells me to keep my eyes on the shooter and not the gun. The gun isn’t what is going to kill me; the shooter will. The shooter’s eyes will tell me if he is going to shoot or not. By the time his finger pulls the trigger, it is too late to react.
 

And Santino’s eyes are telling me that he doesn’t want to shoot me, but he will if I run. I don’t understand what he needs me for, but I’ll be patient long enough to find out. So, I stay in place as Santino moves closer and closer.
 

He grabs ahold of my shoulder to turn me around as he presses the barrel of the gun to my head. “Walk,” he says.
 

I walk. When we make it out of the alleyway, another man comes over and holds on to my other arm, but Santino doesn’t remove the gun from my head. It stays there, and I no longer have the ability to look Santino in the eyes. I’ll have no warning if he changes his mind and pulls the trigger.
 

The buildings become more and more familiar as we walk through the buildings until the one I recognize comes into view. The door is still barely hanging on to the hinges. We don’t pause at the door though. Santino doesn’t knock. He just pushes me inside where I know I will never return. There are only two reasons they would bring me here—to get some info out of me and then to kill me. There is no other reason.
 

I just have to find a way to kill as many of these motherfuckers as I can before I go. That way, Kinsley’s death won’t be for nothing.
 

Santino walks next to me, the gun still firm against my head, as the other man trails off behind me. I can’t tell, but he most likely has a gun on me as well.
 

We walk down a hallway, and I hear voices. One voice in particular sounds familiar. It’s the same voice I heard that night when I came here. The same voice I heard at the casino. It’s almost identical to Santino’s voice. It’s a wonder I didn’t recognize Santino’s voice before.
 

We round a corner, and the voices get louder.
 

“In here.” Santino grabs my arms and jerks me into a large room full of people.
 

The contrast between the dark hallway and the light room blinds me at first. I close my eyes and then open them again, trying to get them to adjust quickly.
 

“Good job, brother. I wasn’t sure if I could count on you to do this job, but you’ve proven your worth,” a man says in a similar voice to Santino.
 

I see the man stand up from the table of men who have now grown silent. The man walks over to us, and I see that he is definitely Santino’s brother. He has the same coloring and facial structure although this man is a little taller and slightly older than Santino. And his hair is long, compared with Santino’s buzzed head. But I realize now that they both have the same eyes. Eyes that are out for blood.
 

“I’m Nacio,” the man says. “Glad you could finally join us.”
 

I glare at him but don’t say anything. I don’t know what his role is here yet. I won’t disrespect him and get myself killed until I have killed the person responsible for Kinsley’s death.
 

The man turns to the far side of the room. “Sweetheart, will you come here?”
 

He motions to the side of the room. My stomach churns as I think about whatever vile woman would think so little of other women to be with a man who treats women like property, like dirt. I can’t imagine such a woman.
 

A woman stands at the far side of the table. She doesn’t look at me. All I can see are her dark pants and black lacy bra. She doesn’t even bother to wear a shirt. My eyes travel up though and then stop at the chopped off blonde locks.
 

It can’t be…

The woman turns to me, and I see…

“Kinsley?” the word falls from my lips as she walks to Nacio’s side.
 

She barely looks at me though and then turns her attention to Nacio.
 

She’s alive. My heart beats wildly as I see her here, alive. I don’t know how it’s possible, and I don’t really care. All I know is, my heart has a reason to keep beating. My lungs have a reason to keep breathing.
 

Somehow, the universe has answered prayers that I never asked because I thought it was impossible.
 

She’s alive. Kinsley is standing no more than five feet away from me, and I want nothing more than to run to her, tackle her to the ground, and kiss her like crazy.
 

I feel a tear welling up in my eyes. A tear of pure joy. It drops quickly down my cheek, so fast that I’m not even sure if anyone notices.
 

“You know how you told me you wanted to kill the FBI agent who destroyed your life?” Nacio says to Kinsley. “Well, I had my brother get him for you. I agreed that he deserved a lot worse than just going to jail. I wanted him to really pay for what he did, too, so I brought him here for you.”
 

Kinsley doesn’t look at me as he’s talking. Instead, she looks at him. A slow grin forms on her face at his words. A smile that I have never seen before. A smile that I don’t understand.
 

“What do you think about that, sweetheart?”
 

Every time he calls her that, I want to hurt him. I want to bring him as much pain as he brings me when he calls my girl that. I can’t stand it.
 

“Thank you,” Kinsley says simply, a smile still on her face.
 

“Really? I break him out of jail for you, and that’s all the thanks I get? If I had known you didn’t really mean what you said last night, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

When he finishes speaking, she doesn’t hesitate. She walks straight to him, grabs his neck, and solidly kisses him on the lips.
 

I lose it. I move toward them, intending to put a stop to it, when Santino grabs my arm.
 

“You move, and I’ll kill you,” he says.
 

I stop moving. But I can’t fucking look at her kissing another man. I close my eyes and wait until she finishes the kiss.