Cruel Captivation (Underground Kings 5)

“Yeah, of course.” I give each of them an individual hug but linger with Owen a little longer.

“If something happens to me, take care of her,” I beg him, holding back fear. This is the one job I’m doing alone that I might not come back from. “Promise?”

“I swear, but when you come back, you’ll have all the muffins in the world.”

“Good deal. About time I get my muffins from you.” I swing the bag over my shoulder and take one last glance down the hall where my heart lies.

I’m leaving Heaven to walk down the road of Hell, but sometimes, wings have to be shed in order to conquer the Devil himself.

Without giving them a parting glance, every step that puts distance between us, my heart aches, and doubt trickles through. Doubt if I can really do this. I’m young, a damn baby compared to the rest of them, and yes, I’ve served time, but I was a good sport about it. I was smart too, which is why no one touched my damn no-no squares while I was behind bars. Everything kind of came easy for me for the most part. I’ve never had to truly fight for something before. Fighting for myself doesn’t count because I lost that fight ages ago.

This is different.

I’m proving myself.

I open the garage door and toss my bag in the truck when I see an unmarked car outside. I can only see the gleam of the plastic from the headlights in the darkness. There is a figure standing against the car, and when the motion light turns on from when I step outside, I see Officer Howard. I groan when I realize what these assholes did.

They freaking got me a babysitter.

“I don’t need you here. You can turn around and go right back to the station for all I care.”

“I’m not here as a cop. I’m here as a friend. They called me because I have an unmarked car. Would you rather be with me in the crown vic instead of a truck that has a license plate on it than can lead anyone to find you?” Officer Howard says, igniting a cigarette.

That’s new. I didn’t think he smoked.

“It’s a new habit. I only have one day.”

“Shit will kill ya,” I say, reaching into the cab of the truck and getting my bag. I walk out into the night, fog slithering between the tree branches creating an eerie feeling that matches the heaviness of the situations.

“So can a goddamn bullet. I’ll take my chances,” he says around the butt of the cigarette as he opens the car door and slides inside. Cranking the engine, the crown vic comes to life, and I stare at the Cliff House one more time. The waves are silent besides a barely there ripple. Seagulls are quiet since it’s so late or early; I can’t figure out which.

I see movement from the window, and I can’t tell for sure who it is since it is so dark, but I can feel her. It’s Heather. She’s watching me. My heart yearns for her. I press my fingers against my lips and press my fingers to the sky, hoping she sees that I’m sending her a kiss.

I walk around the car and climb into the passenger seat, look out the window, and leave. The tires start to roll down the driveway, and we begin the journey to Petaluma.

“Whatever happens, you’re using my gun,” he pulls it out from the back of the seat, then grabs the silencer. “I’m a cop. I can get away with shit like this, unfortunately. I can say he attacked me when I saw him making a drug deal outside. The story will be easy to spin. You are not to use another gun, do you get me?”

“I get you.”

“Good.” Howard inhales a long drag, then blows the smoke out the window. “Sucks about your parents. I’ll say this, they deserve what is coming to them, but that doesn’t make it easy on you, and I’m sorry for that.”

“It doesn’t bother me. I hate my parents. I have for a long time. It’s what has happened to everyone else because of them that I can’t stand the most. All these years, I’ve been slowly involved with Richard, the guy that we tried to steal from. It’s a small world.” I wonder if Zeke knew that information linking me and Richard and Heather all that time ago.

“The world is a big place with even bigger coincidences. Don’t read too much into it.”

Right.

Only three dozen women died. How can I not read into it?

The ride over to Petaluma is quiet for the remainder of the trip. The smoke infiltrates my lungs, calming me, which I need.

I screw the silencer on the barrel of the gun, and Howard turns on the radio to some twangy country music. The banjo music is fitting, creating a murderous atmosphere as we make our way through the hills.

I wait for nerves to hit, for fear, the want to turn the car around, but all I feel is excitement for the past to finally be over and to stop looming. Grace will be able to rest in peace, Heather can live freely, and all of those women can be at rest knowing the man that help put them in the grave.

The hum of the tires nearly has me falling asleep. I’m in and out of sleep, and I don’t know if I’m dreaming or if I’m in a state in between, or if I’m awake, but before I know it, Howard is nudging my side.

It takes me a minute to realize where I’m at. I’m at the end of the road I grew up on, and Howard has parked the car near the membership tennis courts. There is a gated entrance, and I forgot about that. There’s a security guard, but he rotates with someone else every hour, which gives a five-minute window of freedom.