Текст книги "Sins & Secrets"

Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter 12

Lola

When I open my eyes, I have no idea where I am. In a bed, yes, but where I have no idea. There are people talking someone so I don’t dare move, lying there stirring in my own panic. It feels warm around me, like I have a blanket over me and the air smells like wood and damp earth.

Finally, after lying there for an eternity, I open my eyes. The light stings my eyes and I blink several times until my vision comes into focus. I’m in some kind of storage room with no windows and a lot of shelves with can goods on then. I make out Layton and Solana sitting in fold up chairs not too far away from me, their guns on their laps, having an intense conversation with each other.

I discretely reach around to get my gun out of my jeans but it’s not there. As slowly as I can, I move my arm downward to my boot and draw out my knife, knowing it’s going to be useless against their guns. Then I take a deep breath and before I can back out, I throw the blanket off me and spring up from the bed.

When my clunky boots hit the wooden floor, they both look over at me, Solana seeming unsurprised and Layton appearing uneasy. “Lola, just calm down and let me explain,” he says, putting his hands up, eyeing the knife in my hand.

“Five seconds,” I tell him with the knife pointed out in front of me.

“Five seconds and what?” Layton asks, gradually setting his gun on the floor.

“Five seconds to give me a good explanation as to why the fuck you tranquilized me and what the hell is going on. And if you can’t, I’ll slit your throats and run.” I’m being a little over dramatic, I know it, but I need to get some answers.

Layton struggles for words. “Lola I… we need to… you and I—”

“Oh for the love of God.” Solana tosses her gun to the side, gets up and crosses the room in three long strides. She grabs the knife out of my hand, and chucks it on the floor as well. “He tranquilized you because you’re easier to save when you’re passed out, since you’re pathetic when it comes to protecting yourself. And what’s going on is that you have Frankie Catherlson, the Dellefontes, and the Everett’s all wanting to kill you. So congratulations. You’re probably the most wanted women in mafia history at the moment.”

“The Everett’s.” Baffled, I glance over to Layton in shock. “Is that true? Does your family want to kill me too?”

He reluctantly nods then gets up from his chair and takes a few cautious steps toward me, the floorboards creaking under his weight. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” I say, wondering what part Solana plays in all this. Layton says she was sent to kill me, but she hasn’t, so why. And who sent her if there’s three of them who want me dead? “I mean, I understand why the Dellefontes want me dead... And Frankie I guess. But why you’re family?”

“For the same reason as Frankie does.” He spats Frankie’s name venomously.

“For revenge on my father,” I say but he nods. “But what does your father have against my father? I thought they got along for the most part?”

“They don’t, at all… haven’t for a long time…” He trails off, shaking his head as he closes the space between us. There are bags under his eyes, his hair is sticking up all over the place, and he looks strung out. “Lola, I lied about why Frankie’s men are after you… I was afraid to tell you the real reason since my family is a part of it, since they have a hit on you too. I didn’t think you’d trust me, especially after all the lies already.”

“A part of what exactly?” I look from Layton to Solana who shrugs.

“Don’t look at me,” she says, backing away from me. “It’s his job to tell you.”

“But it’s your story,” Layton tell her. “You should be the one—”

“I don’t want to talk about what happened to me.” She cuts him off and for a moment a fire flames in her eyes, emotions so powerful I feel it in my own gut. Anger. She’s angry over something.

She picks up her gun and her jacket then heads for the stairway. “I’m going to go check on things. Have fun kids.” And with that, she leaves Layton and I alone as she trots up the stairs and disappears.

“So are you the one who’s going to do it?” I pick up my knife from the floor and wipe some dust off the blade. I wonder how many times I’ll have to question everything, question my life, question the truth. As long as I’m connected to the mafia world, I’m sure questioning will always be a necessity. I wish I could just disconnect myself.

Layton’s appalled by my statement. “What? No. God, Lolita, I wish you’d quit saying that.” He rubs his hand down his face and then releases a stressed breath. “Can I at least hold you while I tell you?”

I pull a wary face, shaking my head. “You know that’s never been my thing.”

“I know, but I need it right now.” He extends his hand toward me. “Please.”

I eye his hand for a while, then finally take it. Our fingers lace together, the contact of him surging to my body as he guides me to one of the chairs. When he sits down, he pulls me down on his lap without asking first. “You remember they day your… mother died?” he starts, his arms wrapping around my waist. “And how the Dellefontes, the Catherlson’s, and my family was all there at your house?”

I nod, remembering how they all just looked at my father holding my dead mother in his arms. Instead of helping him, they simply left. “How could I forget? It was one of the worst day’s of my life.”

“Well, they were there for a meeting.” He brushes his fingers through a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. “A potential business offer for your father, but he wouldn’t take it because of your mother.”

“What kind of a business offer?” I glance at the stairway where Solana disappeared. “I’m guessing it has to do with Solana and that school she was sent to.”

His body stiffens. “That’s not really a school so much as a warehouse to breed… murdered, assassins, whatever you want to call them.”

My jaw drops. I’ve heard a lot of shit in my life, seen a lot of bad stuff. Death. Murder. Dishonestly. Back stabbing. But this. This is disgusting. “Wait a minute, when you say breed, what exactly do you mean?” I think I already know though and it makes me sick just thinking about it.

“I mean they take young children and train them to be killers.” He pauses and I can hear his pulse hammering. “And they also breed. They have women there who are being kept there against their will to have children with good bloodlines who are to be raised in that environment. Then when they get old enough, the sell them off.”

My stomach rolls and I’m worried I’m going to throw up all over Layton. The idea in itself is repulsive but then there’s the fact that my father sent someone to this place—sent Solana there, my half-sister, my flesh and blood. The fact that he could do that makes me wish I was really an Anders and nothing more, makes me wish I could drain the Anelli blood from my body.

“Why do they do this?” I ask then shake my head. “Never mind. I already know. For the money. It’s always about the money.”

“There’s a lot of money in it, yes,” he says with a nod. He stares at me momentarily then shuts his eyes and leans in to me, pulling me closer. “Lola, I want you to know that I didn’t know about this until I went to work with Frankie... It nearly killed me knowing…. The things they made me do… the things I saw… It was killing me inside.”

“I know it was.” I smoothe my hand over his head, remembering how I’d noticed how different, how much more burden he looked after he started working for Frankie. “I saw that it was.” I sit there smoothing my hand his head for what feels like hours, while he breaths in and out, in and out.

Finally he pulls away and looks at me again. His eyes are a little watery, like he’s been crying. “Run away with me.” There’s desperation in his eyes, a silent plea.

I bite down on my lip. “What?”

He sits up and traps my face between his hands. “Run away with me, Lolita. We can start over and I’ll keep you safe. Please tell me you trust me enough to run away with me, like you said to me when we were fourteen. God I wish I would have just done it… Things would have been so different if I just done it back then.” He pulls me against him again, embracing me tightly.

I remember the day my mom died, right before I found her in my dad’s arms in the driveway, I’d suggested to Layton that we run away. I’d never liked the world I grew up in and leaving seemed like such a great idea—still does. I just wish I could permanently leave it all behind.

“Where would we go?” I ask with my face tucked against his chest where I can hear his heart thudding almost violently. I think about Dannie and Mary Lou and how I’m just going to disappear, leaving them to wonder what happened to me.. Then there’s Nyjah. I don’t know whether he was with Reagan on blackmailing me or not, but I still wish I could say good-bye. I feel guilty about it, but know in my heart that I can’t go back to Glensdale. Maybe one day, if this all ever settles down. One day. I hope. I hope. I hope.

Layton swiftly slants back, looking flabbergasted. “You’re seriously considering it? After everything?”

“You know I’m crazy enough.” I try to make a joke but miss the mark badly—it’s been a long time. Not knowing what else to say, I shrug. “I have to run anyway. Might as well be with someone.” I give him the best smile I can summon, but there’s too much darkness in me at the moment to be happy.

He smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know, but I want to make sure.”

I think I’m sure. The last thing I want to do is leave Layton when I just got him back. “Layton, can I ask you a question?”

He nods, this time with confidence. “You can ask me anything.”

I suck in a breath. “Do you know who killed my mother?” Usually when I say something like this, he would always say that my mother died from natural causes, so I don’t expect much from him.

“I honestly don’t know.” He touches my face, a soft brush of his hand, then moves his fingers to my lips and traces them. “I know that it was someone there that day… I heard my dad saying something about it once. But he never said the specifics.”

“So it could be any of them?” I ask, rage flaring in my chest. I’d always had my suspicions about her death and know I find out I’m right. It makes me angry. Makes me want to go back to Boston and find out who it is. “One of the Dellefontes, or the Catherlson’s. Or your father or mine. One of them did something to her.” The last two hurt.

He nods, appearing in agony too. “I don’t know what you know about your mother… but I heard a lot of stuff about her… about messing around with the wrong people.”

“Sadly, it doesn’t surprise me. Not after everything… God, I can’t believe she let her own daughter go to that kind of place.” I’d thought my life had been bad but Solana’s was so much worse. To be raised to be a killer… the things she must have went through and knowing that one of her parent’s sent her there.

“I think I should talk to her,” I tell Layton, climbing off his lap.

“I think you should too.” He stands up with me and picks up his gun. “But it’s going to have to be quick. If we’re going to go we’ve got to go soon… Solana… well she’s been hired to kill you and she can’t stall for much longer.”

I should be more shocked than I am, but at this point shock has lost it’s full effect. “I definitely need to talk to her.” I start for the door, but Layton calls out to me.

“Lola, wait,” he says and when I turn around, he tosses me my 9mm. “Just to make sure your protected. I feel better when you are.”

I nod then take a deep breath, stepping up the stairway to go talk to the sister I’ve never known.

Chapter 13

Layton

I can’t believe she agreed to go with me after I told her about my family wanting to kill her, that they might have had something to do with her mother’s death, and of course about the shameful business connected to the Everett’s name. But I’m not going to question it. I have bigger things to worry about, like getting Lola to somewhere safe until we can figure out why the three families want her dead. Plus, I have to keep myself dead while I do it.

As soon as she goes up to talk to Solana, I start throwing supplies in a bag. We’re going to have to live on the road for a while but are going to have to ditch the car eventually, since the Catherlson I’m sure have the plate number by now. We can drive to the next state and then maybe leave the country, if Lola has her passport.

I’m zipping up the bag when Lola comes back down the stairs, looking baffled. “She’s gone.”

I tuck my gun in the back of my jeans. “Solana?”

She nods, her 9mm still in her hand, her dark hair a scattered mess, and there’s dirt on the bottom of her pants and on her boots. “I searched around, check the car and then walked around the woods a little bit, calling out to her, but she didn’t answer.”

I pick up a hoodie from a small stack on the shelf and put it on. “I’d say I’m surprised, but honestly I’m not. It seems like something she’d do.” I could tell when I was talking to her while Lola was still out that she was going to bail soon. She’s been getting text from someone—I’m sure whoever hired her—and was getting antsy.

“But where would she go?” she asks, coming over to the shelf and grabbing a hoodie as well. “We’re out in the middle of the friggin’ woods for crying out loud.”

“She’s more than capable of taking care of herself.” I zip of the hoodie and pick up the bag. “She’s been trained to be the best at survival.”

Lola frowns at the reminder of where her sister was raised. “Well, then what are we going to do?"

“We are going to hit the road.” I extend my hand to her. “You have your passport on you?”

She nods, eyeing my hand with reluctance before taking it. “I do. It’s in the bag in the trunk.”

“Good.” I lace my fingers through hers and pull her toward the stairway.

She follows after me. “Where are we going exactly?”

“Well, we’re going to stay on the road until we get within a safe distance from Glensdale,” I tell her as we make our way up the stairs. “But then I was thinking Mexico.”

She stops at the top of the stares. “Wait. We’re leaving the country?”

“Yeah, I think it’s safest for now.” I start to walk again, but she doesn’t budge. “What’s wrong?”

She shrugs. “It just seems like a lot, you know.”

I nod, trying not to over-analyze the hesitancy in her eyes. “But you trust me, right?”

I wait for what feels like an eternity and then instead of answering me, she leans forward and kisses me, letting me know that she does.

Chapter 14

Solana

I stand in the darkness, waiting for the house to clear out before I go in. It took me over a day to walk back to Glensdale, hitching hiking when I could. By the time I arrive at The Dusky Inn, it’s nearing the next night.

I don’t feel bad for taking off without saying. Good-bye’s were never my thing and if I stuck around for much longer I would have had to either answer the person who sent me after Lola in the first place or explain to Lola that her own father sent me to kill her. And the withering heart inside me couldn’t bring myself to do it—guess it wasn’t completely dead like I’ve thought for years. Besides, if I told her, then she’d want to know why and I don’t know that, other than there are four mafia families all connect to that damn warehouse where I was raised, who want Lolita dead, just like they wanted her mother dead. Larenze never explained that to—and he wouldn’t—just like I never explained to him that I will never, ever kill for him. He thinks that some training and brainwash will make it easy for me to forget that he was the one who sent me to live at that place...

I shudder on the inside, go cold, as I see images… of what was done to me… things I’ll never forget, but can’t allow myself to remember.

So I leave and focus on my plan, which has just had a slight change to it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Nyjah since Lola told me about the lovely little tattoo we share. Although, it’s more like a brand than anything. A brand of what we are.

After the last woman walks out of the place, I decide it’s time to enter. There’s only one light on in the entire place, coming from the lower office where I know Nyjah is drinking a glass of scotch, something I learned while scoping out Lola. He does it every night, then smokes a cigarette, staring off into empty space. I’d wonder what he was thinking about and now I think I know.

“We’re closed,” he says when my boots make the floor creak. He glances over at me, squinting to see me in the shadows. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt, torn jeans, boots. His hair is short, eyes crystal blue, and I can see on his neck the tattoo we share. “Whoever the fuck you are, leave. I’m done dealing with people for the day.”

I smile to myself. Whenever he talked to Lola, he was nice, caring. This is the side he covers up, the side connected to his past, which I’m really fucking curious to find out how he escaped. “Nyjah Peirton. Although, I’m guessing that’s not your real name. In fact, if I had to guess, I’m betting that you don’t even know your real last name, nor is Reagan your real father.”

His expression suddenly shifts from worry to coldness as he rises from his chair. He opens his desk drawer and takes out his pistol. “I won’t go down without a fight. You should know that.”

Smiling to myself, I unzip my leather jacket, revealing my neck, then step from the shadows, keeping my weapons in place. “And you should know that if I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.” I dismiss his gun as I wander around his office, studying it, but there’s not much to it, just a bar, some filing cabinets, and a door that goes to a dressing room. I turn to him. “Relax. I’m not here to kill you.”

His gaze darts to the tattoo on my neck immediately then he starts to wind around his desk toward me, the pistol still in his hand, but not aimed at me yet. “Who sent you?”

“No one.”

“Then how did you find me?”

I plop down in one of chairs and cross my legs. “A simple accident, but you should consider yourself lucky I did.”

He presses his lips together, undecided whether he should just kill me or not. After a moment, I guess he decides to at least wait because he sets the gun on the desk then sits on the edge of it himself. “And why would it be lucky that another one of the Sangue Assassins has graced their presents in the life I created to escape that life.”

“Because you know as well as I do that you never really escaped,” I say, thrumming my fingers on top of my knee. “That you’ll always be looking over your shoulder. In fact, I’m betting that the only way you haven’t been discovered yet is because that Reagan guy who you pretend is your father has you doing his dirty work for his business.”

He frowns, his muscles stiffening. “It’s better than the alternative. At least this way, I don’t have to kill all the time.”

“True. But I’m giving you another alternative. One where you will never have to kill again after we’re done. That is if you don’t want to.” I lean back in the chair. “I never know which, Sangue’s need to kill and which one’s just do it because they have to.” I scan him over. “Although, you look like the kind who just do it because you have to.”

He eyes darken. “And which one are you?”

I smile to hide what I really am inside. “Now why would I tell you that? We barely know each other.”

He continues to gaze at me, attempting to see through my shield. But it’s made of metal and locked with a thousand invisible locks. No one has been able to get through that shield and that’s the way I built it. Tough as nails. Empty inside. Blank. Detached. Untouchable. It’s how I survived all those years of torture and training and I will never ever let anyone get through that shield. Can’t.

Nyjah takes a sip of his scotch and then sets it down o the desk. “What are you proposing?”

I lean forward in the chair, resting my arms on my knees. “I’m proposing we take the warehouse down.”

His eyes widen as he lets out a sharp laugh. “Are you fucking crazy? That’s impossible.” He shakes his head repeatedly then gets to his feet. “Do you know what kind of power that would take?” He looks around the room. “And I’m guessing by your solo visit, you have no one.”

“I have some,” I say, but it’s a lie. The only other person who knows what I want to do is Benton, Layton’s brother, but that’s because I let it slip. A first for me, but Benton has this way of making me talk about things when I don’t want to. Honestly, Nyjah is the first Sangue that I’ve crossed path’s with that hasn’t been on some sort of assassin mission. Most of them are cold, unable to live in the real world, unable to communicate on a normal level.

Nyjah takes another sip of his drink, this time finishing it off. “You’re crazy.”

“I never claimed to be sane,” I say, getting to my feet. It’s time to go. Staying in the same place for too long is never good and I’m getting the vibe that Nyjah isn’t going to be on board. “But it’s clear that you are.” I start for the door. “I have a nice life, Nyjah.”

I make it to the doorway before he calls out, “Wait.”

I pause then turn around. He stands up from the desk and walks over to me. “If I agree to help you, I’m going to need to hear a plan. None of this going in blind shit that the Sangue’s are known for.”

“Oh, I have a plan,” I tell him. “But it’s going to take some time.”

“And what’s that?”

“Eliminating the people who control it.”

He considers what I said. “This is crazy,” he says to himself. “I came here to get out of this shit… to let everything go.”

“But have you?”

He shakes his head, his expression flashing with anger for the briefest second, probably as he remembers things he’s been fighting to forget. “No and I never will.”

“But you can help others never have to go through it,” I say, burying my own memories, the cries, the screams, the pain. “Are you with me or not?”

He wavers then nods. “Okay, I’m in. But just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for someone else.” The pain in his eyes lets me know it was someone close to him, someone who probably died during the training or took their own life, something that happened often.

“And that’s alright with me.” Because in the end all that really matters is that that damn warehouse burns to the ground and no one else has to suffer.