Untamed (Unbeautiful 2)

A tracking device? Is that what this is? Is that how her father seems to always know what she’s doing?

Things are starting to make sense.

I put the lid back on the box, stuff it into my pocket, and race to get home, breaking every traffic law. By the time I park the car, it’s past five o’clock in the morning and the sun is clipping the peaks of the shallow mountains. I’m exhausted and confused, but I’ve calmed down enough to come up with a plan. Carry Emery upstairs then text Stale and let him know what’s happened, see if he knows what’s wrong with Emery. See if he thinks I should take her to the hospital, and what he thinks I should do now that I’ve beaten the shit out of Evan.

My “business” phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket, and my fingers fumble as I fish it out.

Doc: You’ve really messed up, Ryler. I’m disappointed you let my daughter get to you like that. I warned you not to let her. Stay put. I’m headed there to pick her up and punish you accordingly.

Fuck. I have about an hour before he shows up, and need to make sure I’m long gone before that happens.

I turn off the engine, jump out of the car into a rain puddle, and hurry to the passenger side. I open the door, scoop up Emery in my arms, and hurry up the stairway. When I make it into her apartment, I set her down on the sofa, then race down the stairway to my apartment. The place is silent except for faint snoring coming from Luke and Violet’s bedroom. I move as quietly as I can, rushing to my bedroom, shut the door, and dig out my “personal” phone.

Me: I found out Evan is Donny Elderman’s son. Did you know about this? Also, he injected Emery with some sort of drug tonight that made her pass out. He said something about it making her mind go off whack??? Have any idea what it is? He said it had a little heroin in it. Oh, and I don’t know how, but it seems like Evan knew stuff that Emery told me privately…

Stale: I’m not sure about the drugs, but Donny’s been known for making experimental street drugs, so my guess is he injected her with one of those. Are her vitals okay?

Me: Yeah, but I think I should maybe take her to the hospital.

Stale: Make sure you’re absolutely sure before you do anything. We don’t want to risk your cover being blown. And if she’s on heroin, she could get in some trouble.

Cover being blown. Like that fucking matters right now.

Stale: And we’ve had our suspicions about Evan already. But we have no positive confirmation on his identity yet since there are no records of a birthdate or even a social security number linked to him. We figured he was just another nameless person Donny picked up off the street… How did you get this information?

Me: Emery let it slip. And somehow Evan knew she’d told me, even though we were in Emery’s apartment with no one around. It makes no sense. I know Doc is the one finding out all this stuff, but I can’t figure out who’s telling him.

Stale: I’m going to look into Evan. Do some more background searching to see if I can link him directly to Donny Elderman. If he is his son, we could bring him in. He’d know where his father’s warehouse is.

Me: It’s not going to be that easy. He always has bodyguards around him. Tons. And I’m pretty sure they’ve got the entire house set up with some sort of high-tech alarm system. Plus, I doubt he’ll talk even if you bring him in. You know they brand silence into their kids pretty well.

Stale: You leave Evan for me to worry about. In the meantime, keep working on Emery. And be very careful. From what you said about Doc knowing things that have barely happened, I’m guessing that it’s not someone who’s relaying the information to him, but something. My bet is that Emery’s house is bugged, which either means Doc doesn’t trust you or doesn’t trust his daughter.

My fingers fold tightly around the phone. Shit, this is so bad.

Me: Not sure that’s my biggest problem now since I beat the shit out of Evan about a half an hour ago.

Stale: You did what? Tell me you’re joking.

Me: Nope. And Doc is heading here now to punish me, and then he’s taking Emery back home. I have about an hour before he gets here. I need to run.

Stale: Don’t run. We need to get you out of there safely. Fuck, Ryler. You really fucked this up. God dammit.

Me: Yeah, I know, but I had to do what I had to do. And I’m not going anywhere without Emery.

Stale: Emery’s not your problem. And we still might be able to use her. You said Doc is taking her back home. Maybe we can follow them.

Me: No way. I’m not going to let that happen.

Stale: This isn’t your choice anymore. Stay put. Someone will be there soon.

Someone will be there soon. What does that even mean? I’m not about to wait around to find out.

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I rush back up to Emery’s apartment. The moment I step foot into her living room, I know something’s wrong. The lights are off when I left them on, and Emery is no longer on the sofa. I reach behind me to grab her gun still tucked in the waistband of my jeans, but before I can grab the weapon, someone rams me from the side. The force is minimal, and I easily regain my footing.

I whip out the gun and whirl in the direction of the figure. The moonlight shines through the sliding glass door across the room and highlights the perfectly structured features of the person who attacked me.

My jaw drops. Emery.

Before I can process what’s happening, she charges at me again. Not wanting her to fall and hurt herself, I allow her body to crash into mine. The impact sends me stumbling backward into the coffee table. We both hit the ground, the gun flying out of my hand. I flip to my stomach and push myself up, but Emery is already standing.

I think about the drug Evan said he gave her, and how when she woke up, her mind might be a little off whack. I need to communicate with her, see if she’s coherent or not, but I need the lights on in order to do so.

I sidestep and reach for the light, but she charges me again. Her head rams into my stomach, and we go tumbling down the hallway, bumping into the wall before landing on the floor with her on top of me. That stupid wooden decoration falls to the floor, and a bright red light starts flashing.

Shit, is that where the bug is? No wonder I’ve always had a bad feeling about the thing.

Emery is wild above me, out of her mind as she tries to scratch my face with her fingernails like she’s lost her mind on a bad trip. Then she notices the light and freezes with her hands on my shoulders and her eyes fixated on the broken object.

“He’s going to kill me,” she whispers, and then her body slumps on top of mine.

I slide out from under her, trying not to panic as I check her pulse. Her heartbeat has quickened, and her skin looks pallid against the limited moonlight flowing through the windows.

Pushing to my feet, I reach for the light switch, but then stop myself. My gut instinct is telling me not to turn on the light and to get the fuck out of this house. This time I’m going to listen.

Crouching down, I yank the bracelet from her wrist and chuck it aside, along with the package I picked up tonight. Then I slide my hands under her, carefully scoop her into my arms, and carry her out the door and downstairs to my apartment.

Once I reach my bedroom, I kneel down beside my bed and lay her down on the mattress. Long locks of her h

air are sprawled across my pillow and her arm is resting over her stomach. Her skin still looks pale, her lips are red, and every once in a while her eyelashes flutter.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and watch her chest rise and fall with her breaths, growing more and angrier over what’s happening. I’ve had a really shitty life. My parents were assholes. My foster parents were assholes. My one and only girlfriend was an asshole. But it feels like Emery has had it way worse. Tortured and abused, those are the two words that come to mind when I think of her. The dying rose I described can barely thrive and the petals will all be gone soon. No one will ever be able to see them anymore. I won’t be able to see them anymore.