Lilah
Choice
“Hurry up, little girl. Daddy’ll tuck you in.” Smiley, who I didn’t recognize due to his bushy surfer hair and beard, pushes me down the hall toward Hawkman, who’s standing by an open bedroom door wearing a lascivious grin.
“I’ll tuck something in, all right.” Hawk reaches out for me, and though I backhand him solidly, he hurls me across the threshold. I slam into the heavy four-post bed frame, landing in a heap. My injured side burns, and my wrist throbs. Standing takes work, but I grit my teeth and make it happen.
Hawk shoves me face-first onto the bed. I flop onto my back as he starts to unfasten his belt, but Smiley puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Not yet.”
Hawkman’s heavy brow furrows and he glares hostilely at Smiley. “Says who?”
Smiley loses his amused expression, and it chills me when I see what hides underneath. “You know who.”
Whoever “you know who” is must be pretty important, because Hawkman refastens his belt.
“How’s the lip, asshole?” I nod toward the injury I bestowed on Smiley when he touched me between my legs back at camp.
“You can kiss it later.” Smiley’s retort is automatic, but he seems distracted. He hurls my backpack at me. “Clean yourself up. You smell like a wet dog.”
Hawkman chuckles, and I glare at them, truly unable to respond.
“Awww. Too soon?” Smiley’s cocky now. My silence bolsters his machismo, and his simpering self-satisfaction returns. “Seriously though, get in there and wash that shit off of your face. The boss will be here soon.”
They leave, and I hear two bolt locks engage on the outside of the door. I set to work immediately, searching my makeshift prison cell for flaws. These guys are sociopathic, but they’re also idiots, as evidenced by their half-assed job trying to abduct me from the high school back in the day and how they fumble-fucked their way through staging Mom’s plane crash.
The room looks like the honeymoon suite at some bed and breakfast in big sky country. The rug is an actual polar bear’s hide, and I wonder how many of Archer’s orgies went down in this room. I wish for a black light. Then at least I’d know whether it’s safe to sit on the tacky comforter.
After verifying that the mirror isn’t of the two-way variety, I peer out the small window. Judging from what I see below, I’m locked in the A-frame loft at The Lodge’s center. I’m on the west side facing the woods, and though I could squeeze out the window, I’d have a three-story drop to the stone patio below.
I note the darkening sky. A storm is moving in. Even if I survived the fall, I’d be drenched and shambling through mud, miles from what could pass as a main road. I could try to make it to the plane, but the whole point of coming out here is to get Mom, and I’m not leaving here without her.
I can no longer stand the smell and the sticky sensation on my face, so I barricade myself in the bathroom. As I lean into the tiled stall to turn on the water, I’m deeply disturbed that the shampoo and conditioner sitting inside are my brand of choice. Turning toward the sink, I see an unopened box of toothpaste, also the kind I use. I start to feel hot around the collar. Truth starts to fall like dominos. This was all a trap, one tailored just for me.
The poorly staged crash site kept the authorities busy, but sent me the message that Mom was still out there. The holes in the air search weren’t something everyone would catch. When Connor got me away from the diner, he only delayed the inevitable. Getting me into this room had always been the end game.
Knowledge is power, and I plan accordingly. I take a long, steamy shower, scrubbing myself raw and rinsing until the water runs clear.
I’m dried off and putting on clean clothes from my backpack when I hear a plane approaching. Whoever’s piloting is flying very low. My heart clenches. The big guy—the one who’d been driving the day of my attempted abduction—dragged Connor away from camp. Smiley and Hawkman flew me here in Connor’s plane, and the big guy hadn’t resurfaced since we arrived at The Lodge. I’ve been clinging to the notion that he drove Connor here. But Connor’s far too lethal to hold hostage, and his knowledge of Aurora is redundant as long as they have me. My chest feels leaden as I start to suspect Connor and Runt now share a shallow grave. This gruesome image brings on a sudden crying jag. My heart tells me I’d feel it if Connor was really gone. Even so, I see the strategy in disposing of him, so I assume that’s what they’ve done.
The heavens empathize, releasing a torrential downpour. Rain batters the tin roof in a percussive attack, and thunder claps so close that it startles me out of my sorrow. I hear footsteps on the stairs, and I wipe my face on my shirt, preparing for whatever fresh horror is about to unfold.
Both bolts slide open and I ready myself to charge the door. It swings open and Hawkman tosses a bloodied and bewildered Reece at me. I catch him, wincing at the shooting pain in my wrist.
“Hang with your girlfriend ’til Daddy gets here,” Smiley calls from over Hawkman’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Delilah.”
The door slams. Reece slumps onto the bed. His nose is bleeding. I rip handfuls of tissues from the box and move to help him.
“Pinch the bridge of your nose,” I insist.
“Did they hurt you, Lilah?” He sounds like he has a cold due to his stuffed-up nose.
I shake my head.
“Thank God.” Blood trickles down onto his shirt, but he ignores it. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, and the presumptuous contact disturbs me. I move away.
“Why are you here?” I want to know how long he’ll keep up the charade that he isn’t involved.
“I’m here for you.” Rankled, he struggles to maintain his cool. “I keep telling you that.”
“Really? So now that your scumbags killed Connor and I’m locked in your bedroom, what do you plan to do with me?”
His brow furrows and something flickers behind his eyes. “This isn’t my doing, Lilah. And Connor’s not dead.”
I exhale a quick breath. I can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but just that tiny beacon of hope gives me strength. “You expect me to believe that you aren’t in on this?”
“Yes.” He seems genuinely baffled.
“That man works for you, Reece,” I hiss. “The blond one with the slick grin.”
“No. Patrick works for my father. I’ve been trying to keep you away from this.” He’s dim, like he’s exhausted. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to keep you safe.”
“Like abducting my mother and killing my dog?” My voice sounds strained, but I don’t care.
He inches toward me, his expression possessive and raw.
“Delilah, I didn’t do either of those things. I would never hurt you…”
I move to the other side of the bed—better with a barrier between us.
“You drugged me.” I’m antsy and disagreeable, but I know I need to tone it down. Reece is a honey versus vinegar type of situation.
“I did,” he admits, and I’m exalted that he hasn’t bothered with some lame denial. “But it’s not what you think.”
His eyes implore me to listen to his explanation. I press the heels of my palms against my forehead. I wonder where he sees this charade ending. I cross my arms over my chest and meet his gaze. He’s still consuming me with his eyes. “I’m listening.”
“I didn’t know they took your mom until they already had her. My father was twitchy for days before she went missing, making us change our passwords…tightening security. He flew up to our Willow location, claiming he needed to do an audit. After he landed, he called, spouting off about the weather, asking me to radio LuAnn and divert her to a private airstrip near Willow. The weather reports were ugly, so I didn’t question him.”
Reece is moving closer. His hands caress my upper arms, and his voice is overly calm. I want to gouge out his earnest eyes, but I maintain my cool.
“Dad said she never arrived. I notified the authorities, and then Dad showed up at my place and told me he had Lu. He said the cops would think I was an accessory. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Is that going to be your defense after you kill me too? Sorry, Your Honor. My daddy made me do it?”
Reece reacts like I slapped him. He drags a desperate glance over me, and his expression spells trouble in all capital letters.
“You ended up here because you stuck with Connor. They would have taken him and left you alone. I tried to get you away from him. The Special K I gave you just worked too fast. Then he showed up and took off with you. When Cyndi emailed me and told me you were on your way up here, I tried to get to you first, but I was too late. Now that you’re here, I don’t know if I can stop any of this. Maybe…if you tell me where you found Aurora 9…”
I laugh out loud. “I’m not an idiot, Reece. Those guys you have working for you didn’t bother wearing masks. I’m not getting out of this alive no matter what I do, so why the hell should I tell you anything?”
“Because I love you, Lilah.” That irrevocable adoration appears on his boyish features. “I’m the only reason you’re still alive!”
I contain the urge to slap him, though it’s arduous. “The coordinates inside my head are the only reason I’m still alive. But 9’s coordinates don’t matter. I already have Aurora 10. I’ve had it for a decade.”
His eyes bulge. “Seriously?”
I nod. “So go tell Daddy we’re making a deal.”
Reece scrutinizes me, and then bursts into hysterical laughter. I startle at the inappropriate outburst, my hair standing on end at the unnatural sound.
“I should have fucking known.” His words escape as his jag winds down. He sweeps in suddenly, his hand gripping the back of my neck.
“Reece—” I want to tell him what a piece of shit he is before he gets me into a lip lock, but kissing isn’t what he has in mind. Reece forces me in the direction of the door.
“Let’s get this fucking show on the road then.” His cold demand echoes in the trashy boudoir.