Won't Let Go (21 page)

“He’s going to kill me! Oh God. He’s going to kill me. I know too much.”

Embry places his strong hands on my shoulders, levels his face with mine, and says, “No. No. I will never allow that to happen. Now, where are you?” His voice rises a few octaves as he finishes the sentence.

“Allison and Danielle Blake’s house,” I say, as the full brunt of memories come flooding back to me. “He’s going to kill me. He—he tried to kill you.”

Embry cups my chin. His thumb gently rubs soothing circles atop my skin. “I’m coming for you. I won’t let anything happen to you, ever. I swear, Alexia, I’ll
come
for you.” He leans forward, closing the last bit of distance between us, placing his lips lightly against mine. It’s slow, gentle, but quickly he pulls me into him, crushing me against his chest. I press back just as desperately until our bodies are melded together, almost one.

Embry breaks away first, his eyes glistening. He places one more quick kiss against my lips, and then says, “I will come for you.”

And I believe him.

With every fibre of my being, with every string that tugs at my heart, I believe he will come.

I believe it more than life itself.

Embry
will
rescue me.

“Alex? Alex wake up!” My eyelids flutter at the sound of a voice. “Wake up, come on. Dammit! Alex, wake up!” The voice grows louder. It rings in my ears like a siren. There’s a splash of wetness. Beads of water roll down my face and drip onto my hands. It’s cold, refreshing, and it rouses me enough to open my eyes.

Through the moisture I see Allison kneeling before me, water bottle in hand. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings.

“Embry, where’s Embry?” I croak.

He was just with me.

Wasn’t he?

Of course he was. I heard his voice.
He
touched my skin, enveloping me with his arctic presence as well as caressing my cheek with his soft, gentle hand.

He’s coming for me.

“Embry?” Allison says, eyebrows quirked up.

Reaching out a hand, Allison touches my forehead. I flinch, pulling back, forcing myself away from her. “Shit. He must have hit you hard. There’s no one here. No one but me.”

My heart gallops in my chest, raging. “No, he was here. What have you done to him?”

“There’s no one here. Seriously. I think you’re hurt, maybe a concussion. Because the only Embry I know of, well, he’s lying in a hospital bed.
You
know that.”

“He’s not coming for me?” I whisper.

“No. You’re not well. And if I just leave you here, well, I think you’re going to get a whole lot worse. Like, six feet under worse.”

“So what are you waiting for? Get me out of here.”

From behind her back, Allison produces a serrated, black handled steak knife. She holds it like a weapon, gripping it tightly in her palm. The silver blade glistens as light from the overhead bulb reflects off the tip, making it sparkle. It’s eerie how comfortable she seems holding it. However, I don’t say anything, I just wait for her to step forward and slice at the tape, releasing me.

Seconds tick by, almost a minute, and then I speak up. “Well? What the hell are you waiting for?”

 “I’ve got one condition.”

I don’t like the sound of that,
at all
.
“What?”

“This ends here. I’ve stood by and watched my father do a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he deserves to go to jail.” She takes a step forward, “He’s—he’s all we have left.”

I’m sure her emotion is genuine, but is she crazy? I mean
seriously
crazy? I shake my head. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t.”

Her own head shakes fast, the knife in her hand moving in time. “Yes. You. Can.”

“No. You’re crazy. Just as crazy as him. I can’t let what I know go. I can’t. He needs to be stopped. He needs to pay for what he did to Embry and to Elliot.”

“Then I can’t let you go. He’s my father. And if I leave you here...Please. Just forget everything. I’ll let you go. I swear. Just don’t tell anyone, anything.”

Fresh tears fill my eyes. “I—I can’t. An innocent man is in jail—”

A buzzer screeches loudly, reverberating off the concrete walls, the open ceiling. Allison and I both look at the source of the offending sound. The dryer.

A voice just as loud and insistent fills the air, “Allison?”

My eyes grow wide.

Someone else is in the house.

I suck in a deep breath, open my mouth ready to scream.

“Don’t make a sound,” she says.

I want to scream. I do. But instead I clamp my mouth shut and close my eyes.

“Allison?” The voice grows louder. Footsteps sound on the above floor. They make their way closer and closer to the entrance of the basement.

Stepping away from me, Allison walks to the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll be there in a minute,” she shouts. The sound of steps however, grows louder, until the door to the basement swings open with a whine. “I’m coming. Stay right there, I’m—just finishing up something,” Allison says. From here, I can barely make out the shape of an elongated shadow stretching down the wooden steps. My heart speeds up.
As if it could go any faster.

“I thought we were going to the movies.”

With a big smile, Allison says to the long shadow, “Be right there,” in a tone that drips sickly sweet. Apparently satisfied whoever she’s talking to is leaving, she turns towards me. Her big smile fades, turning her face into one of total seriousness. No games.

“So do you want out or not? I just need your word. It’s that simple.”

I know I’m not going to give in, that Elliot doesn’t deserve to stay in jail for something he didn’t do, and Embry deserves his attempted murderer to be brought to justice. Embry can’t get better until Allison and Danielle’s dad is behind bars for what he did. So I say the only thing I can think of—I like to play with fire it seems. “I can’t do it. I won’t. So you might as well kill me now.”

“Is that what you want, to die, right now?” She takes a few more steps wielding the knife in her hand. “To lose everything, over something you don’t understand, for someone you’ve never even met?”

 Hearing it out loud, it does ring crazy. But I know Embry, I’ve felt his touch, I’ve heard his voice, he’s kissed me with those perfect lips. I
know
him.

But do I?

Is he worth the end of my life? What if he never wakes up? Or worse, what if he does and he’s not
my
Embry anymore? What if he’s how he was—the womanizer. Those are questions I just can’t answer, ones I might never be able to. However, I know what’s right and I know what’s wrong, and I trust in Embry. I swear it was him, the real him telling me he’d come for me.

Elliot doesn’t deserve to stay in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, either. Just like Embry, he should be allowed that second chance at life.

And my parents, I know they’d be sad, but they know I love them. I know they would want me to be strong. To make things right. If I have to sacrifice myself, it will be worth it, no matter what. I know it will.

I swallow, lift my head and look Allison in the eyes.
Show no fear
. “N—” I’m cut off. Both her attention and mine switch to the heavy footfalls pounding down the steps. It’s a blur of motion until—

“Oh my God!” Danielle Blake screams. She skids to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Her hand still clings onto the railing for support as her eyes move between Allison and me. “What the hell is going on?”

Allison swiftly steps in front of me. She slides her hand and the knife behind her back out of view. But it’s too late. It’s obvious Danielle has seen me, duct taped to a chair, battered and bruised, bleeding and wet.

And you just can’t walk away from that.

Or can you?

“Danielle, go back upstairs. Please. I’ll be there in a minute,” Allison says to her sister.

Danielle, whose expression is nothing short of shocked, shakes her head. “What the hell is going on?” Quickly she takes a few steps forward, nudges Allison aside with her shoulder and drops down to her knees in front of me. “Oh my God. Allison!” She pulls at the tape around one of my wrists, her own hands shaking as she works at the restraints.

But Allison’s not having that. She kneels down, discarding the steak knife under the chair. “Danielle? Danielle, stop. Please just stop.”

Ignoring her sister, Danielle continues pulling on the tape. I grit my teeth as the adhesive pulls at the hairs on my arms. Methodically she shakes her head. “What have you done? My God, what have you done?” she says.

“Danielle, listen to me. I—I didn’t do this.”

For some reason this catches Danielle’s attention. Her hands still. “But you’re not stopping it,” she says. Her brown hair falls over her face as she turns her head to Allison.

“Well—I—it...it isn’t my fault. Please. Can’t you just leave? Let me deal with this?”

I’m honestly amazed at how calm they are—they both are. It’s as if they’ve seen this before.
God I hope there haven’t been others
. I mean I’m trapped in their basement. Isn’t that cause for alarm? A call to 911 perhaps?

The constraints on my right wrist are almost free. I twist and turn it, pulling, praying the last bit will loosen enough to break free.

“Deal with it? Allison, there’s a girl attached to our dining room chair. With duct tape. How do you plan on dealing with this?”

I decide it’s time for me to speak up. They’re just being so...so freaking insane. “Um. Can I go now? Danielle, could you let me go? Please.”

Her hands start working on the tape again, “She’s right. She should go. I’m letting her go.”

Allison springs forward and grabs Danielle’s hands, “No! No, she can’t go. She’ll—she’ll tell!”

The work on my tape stops again.

“She’ll tell someone you taped her to a chair? God I hope so. ’Cause if this is some high school prank, it’s sick. This is going too far.”

Prank? She thinks this is a prank? Are you kidding me! What is wrong with this town?

“This isn’t a prank, Danielle, please—” I say.

“Shut up, Alex. Just shut up. You win, okay? You can go. We’ll let you go.”

I should shut my mouth, I should let them untie me, give me an icepack for my face and go about my life. Of course, I can’t do that. Not when innocents are suffering. Not when Allison’s suffering. Because I know, I swear she is. She needs my help, maybe even Danielle does, just as much as Embry and Elliot.

“Danielle...” I say.

Allison’s eyes grow wide. She might have said something, threatening even, but I choose to ignore it, to not listen and continue.

This needs to be said. “Danielle,” I say again to get her attention. She looks up at me—I think she’s wondering why I say her name like I know her. The truth is I feel like I kind of do. There’s something about being taped to a chair that changes you. “Your father tried to kill Embry Winston,” I spit out.

If eyes could literally pop out of their sockets, well I think Danielle’s just about do. They are wide and round like big brown orbs. Her mouth hangs open with what I assume is shock.

Allison, on the other hand, has a similar expression, only hers isn’t quite shock. I’d say she’s seconds away from scooping up the knife and stabbing me through the heart with it.

“No, no.” Danielle shakes her head. “Elliot did, he’s in jail—they caught him—he confessed.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” I ask, almost pleading.

Grabbing her sister by the shoulders, Allison turns Danielle, forcing her to look her in the face. “Don’t listen to her—she—she’s lying.”

I can see them both struggling. Allison, trying to cover up her father’s mistakes, Danielle, trying to believe her father’s not the monster I’m sure she knows him to be.

“He—he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Why—” Danielle looks away as her brown eyes glisten with tears.

“Danielle, he didn’t, she—she’s crazy. Daddy would never hurt us.” It’s a statement full of emptiness. I can see right through it. Allison knows it’s not true even though she spoke the words.

I just hope Danielle does too.

Danielle covers her mouth. “Oh my God.”

I clear my throat. I haven’t forgotten I’m still taped to a chair. “Danielle, please, let me go. Your father needs help.
You
need help. And I can help you.”

Allison lets out a shrill, piercing laugh. “And how do you think you can help us?”

“I have—proof. I can help the both of you.” I single out Danielle. She seems to be the weaker of the two, and yet the smarter. “Just let me go and I’ll explain everything. Just trust me.”

Swiping the tears away, Danielle raises her hands to the tape and pulls at it again, freeing my hands.

I twist my wrists. They’re sore from being held tight against the chair for such a long time. The bones click with each revolution. Being bound has also left the skin red, raw, and irritated.

 Tugging against the restraints didn’t help. At least it’s just red and will fade quickly. Bruises—bruises would be harder to hide. But who am I kidding? I’ve no doubt got two shiners, swollen, and as purple as a ripe summer plum. That’s going to be a little harder to cover up.

As Danielle pulls the last bit of tape free from my bound ankles, I kick up from the chair, fast and swift. Surprised, Danielle gives a yelp. Allison, sharp and quick, doesn’t miss a beat. She’s suddenly in my face, anger rolling off of her in thick waves.

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Hey, easy there. I’m not running.”
Not yet, at least.

“Then sit back down.” Allison pokes a finger into my chest.

It’s not a question or a suggestion. It’s an order, but since she’s closest to the only weapon present, I do as she says. My butt hits the seat so fast it thuds against the worn wood. My legs protest, aching as I resume the same, uncomfortable position I’ve spent the last, how many hours in.

Clearing her throat, Danielle speaks. It’s soft, quiet, child-like, “Tell me—everything. I—I want to know everything.”