After the Rain
After
the Rain
The Final Novel in the Rain Trilogy
Karen-Anne Stewart
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges that the trademarked status and the trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Due to sensitive issues of abuse, human trafficking, and adult scenes, The Rain Trilogy is intended for mature readers.
© 2013 by Karen-Anne Stewart. All rights reserved.
ISBN 13
:
978-1505819632
ISBN: 1505819636
Dedicated to the survivors and the heroes who help them
.
Contents
To my husband, I want to thank you for your continued support and encouragement throughout my journey of writing The Rain Trilogy. I love you!
To my parents, who have always had my back and encouraged my love of reading and, now, writing, I love you both!
To the most amazing Beta readers a girl could have, I’m sending you a huge thank you for your time, encouragement, and helpful feedback. Thank you, Diane Maxwell, Chantelle Cunningham, Julie Weatherman, Pam Riddle, Keri Wilson, Heather Lindall, Bret Stewart, Jackie Parker, and Jovon Tucker, you guys are the best!
To The Rain Makers, I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate all of you! Thank you, Jovon Tucker, Heather Pfingsten, Chantelle Cunningham, Karla Crescioni, Honey Warren, Danielle Cury, Jackie Parker, and Kim Rector, you ladies are truly amazing!
To Jim Guilliams and Talor Stewart, thank you for your continued expertise and wonderful advice.
To Todd Ervin, you will always be my favorite Alpha Geek, thank you!
To Luisa Maxwell, thank you for doing an amazing job blending the cover photos into one beautiful picture! luisamaxwell.tumblr.com
To Heather Sowalla, Windy Hills Editing, thank you for your editing services!
To Heather Lindall, Diane Maxwell, Valeria Gardin, Karen Galloway, RJ Galloway, Jovon Tucker, Tara Fisher, Pam Riddle, Shannon Lopez, and Tonya Smalley, your encouragement and kinds words throughout this entire process helped to get me through the wild ride, thank you so much!
To all of the authors who I have been blessed to connect with, I have been truly amazed by your generous advise, tips, and words of wisdom; I’m in awe of the wonderful support in the writing community. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!
To the bloggers and reviewers, your support has been beyond amazing, and I’ve been excited and humbled to be able to connect with each of you, thank you!
To Christine Janes, thank you for being the first to give me a shot!
Last, but never least, to all of the readers, I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again, you guys ROCK! Your support, feedback, and encouragement have been thrilling and extremely appreciated. Thank you so much! I continue to look forward to hearing from you!
The streets are crowded. It seems as if all of D.C. is out enjoying the last days of October. The shops are adorned with intricate webs, spiders, and witches hats. Children peer excitedly through the shop windows at the costumes, dreaming of which super hero, scary monster, or beautiful princess they are going to be for Halloween this year. Kas chuckles as one overly eager child plows straight into his long, muscular legs on his way to pick out the perfect costume from the shop across the street.
“Sorry, please excuse us,” the harried mom mumbles, embarrassed, as she grabs the spirited boy’s hand, taking an appreciative second glance over the length of Kas on her way.
“No problem,” Kas offers, smiling kindly at the woman as she tries to rein in the child’s enthusiasm to a more manageable level. He watches them cross the street and once again has the urge to head straight back to the agency, grab Raina, take her home, and strip her down, so they can practice making a child of their own. A puissant warmth spreads through him as he thinks of Raina having his baby. The love he feels for her overwhelms him at times and, right now, he’s hit so hard with the intensity he feels his chest might actually combust.
Crossing the street and passing the old library transformed into a haunted house for the braver crowd of the Celtic originated tradition, his thoughts turn darker, back to the real life nightmare relentlessly haunting him and his entire team. When he rounds the corner, his eyes carefully sweep over the perimeter of the building, his senses sharpening, his body automatically going into combat mode, preparing for anything.
After he’s comfortably sure it’s safe, Kas steps into the dilapidated, brown stucco building to meet with one of his informants. The watch Raina bought him at Christmas indicates that it’s half past noon, and he’s really hoping this is not a huge waste of his time. Frustration gnaws at him like a starving rat. He rakes his hand through his dark hair, desperately needing new information on Prizrak. He feels every bit of the pressure to get something on the elusive Ghost that will give them the means to finally take down the ruthless trafficker.
Kas smells the pungent odor of stale menthol cigarettes, and his jaw tightens. His displeasure of having to keep any form of company with the rancid informant is nauseating, but it’s part of the job, an unfortunate necessary evil to perform the greater good. Crooked, Meth stained teeth and hazy charcoal eyes greet him as he rounds the corner. Taking in the weeks’ worth of dirty blonde stubble on the gangly man’s chin, Kas can tell by the stench of him that he hasn’t bathed in as long as he’s gone unshaven. It’s not the appearance of the man known as Shaky Joe that bothers Kas, it’s his form of depraving entertainment that sickens him.
Joe’s hand trembles as he holds it out, but Kas just nods his greeting, guessing where that hand has been. “Hey, Joe, you’re not looking so good,” he states the obvious, “you need to stay away from the crank, or it’s going to kill you.”
“Can’t kill a man that’s already dead,” Joe mumbles. His glazed eyes sharpen a fraction, “You’re going to pay me for the information, right? I need to eat.”
Kas grinds his teeth, not wanting to enable Joe’s addiction, “I’ve worked out the next two weeks’ worth of meals at the diner down the street and a couple nights at the motel on the corner.” He sees the disappointment darken Joe’s eyes, knowing what he really wants, “You aren’t dealing anymore are you? I told you last time that our arrangement’s off if I catch you dealing again.”
Joe’s beady eyes shift, and his shoulder gives a slight twitch, “I ain’t dealing no more.”
“C’mon, Joe, you should know by now that you can’t lie to me.”
“I ain’t selling to any kids, Pierce, I swear.”
Kas studies Joe for a few seconds, relaxing at the realization that he’s at least being honest about not dealing to children. “That’s good, really good. You know what will happen if I catch you doing that,” he tells him, his voice firm, like a father sternly warning a wayward child.
“I can’t go to jail,” Joe panics, his trembling worsening.
The shadow of a man in front of him fills Kas with pity. He knows enough about Joe’s past to have a level of understanding of what led him down this path. His thoughts turn to Raina and how his wife suffered a similar dark childhood; he is very grateful she fought her demons instead of letting them drag her into the depths of hell on earth. Pride fills him when he thinks of Raina. He’s never met anyone stronger, more determined to survive and overcome than his tenacious wife. “Take it easy, I’m not taking you in, but you have to promise to stop selling that crap, or I won’t be as generous next time.”
“I ain’t gonna sell anymore.”
Kas lets the lie go, knowing he can’t take him in without seeing him doing it anyway. “What do you have for me?”
Joe pulls a thin piece of paper from his front pocket. His eyes widen and dart towards the door before handing it over. The fear radiating off of the informant is viral, making Kas very anxious to see what’s on the dirty scrap. Carefully opening the crinkled strip, Kas reads the name, Thomas Jefferson, and shakes his head in anything but amusement.
“That’s the name buzzing around here anytime . . .,” Joe pauses, checking the door again before lowering his voice, “anytime Prizrak’s mentioned.”
After making sure Joe has no additional information, he holds up the paper and nods, “Go get something to eat and a good night’s sleep.” Kas gives him a severe warning glare, “Find another occupation, Joe!”
The crisp fall air hits Kas as he steps back outside, and the bright sunlit day mercifully refreshes his senses. Putting the piece of paper containing the name that Kas is sure is an alias in his pocket, he is equally sure that he must be one of Prizrak’s clients. He remembers Raina pulling the last name, Jefferson, off a recovered hard drive and how the e-mail mentioned Prizrak was upset at the condition of the girls delivered to the important client. The information received is slim, but they’ve worked with less. He hopes this will somehow get them closer to the Ghost’s end.
Picking up his pace to the jeep, his thoughts return to Raina, pushing Evan Parker, aka the Ghost and Prizrak, out of his mind. Images of this morning play in his head, tantalizing every last inch of him, soothing his overly taxed mind. A smile spreads across his lips as he remembers how she looked so beautiful underneath him as they made love. The impressive bulge in his jeans swells when he thinks of how her long hair spilled across the white sheets in a pool of auburn, and how her vibrant jade eyes gazed up at him, full of love and satisfaction.
A cool wind blows as he slides into his jeep. Kas grabs his phone, needing to hear Raina’s sweet voice to allow her innocence to redeem the immoralities tainting life more each day. Sighing, he closes his cell when it goes to voicemail, and he dials Erik next, knowing Raina is probably buried in recovering Lawson’s damaged hard drive.
“What’s up, Pierce? Can’t get enough of my sexy voice today?” Erik cracks.
“It’s not your sexy voice I want to hear right now,” Kas laughs, “put my wife on the phone.”
The pause on the other end pricks Kas, jostling his adept skill at reading emotions and voice tone or, in this case, at the lack of response. His alarm peaks when he hears the confusion in Erik’s voice, “She’s with you.”
“Raina’s not with me,” he states, trying to curb the uneasiness starting to seep through him.
“Didn’t she meet you at the docks?”
“Erik, what the hell are you talking about?”
“You told her to meet you to translate,” Erik quickly responds, his own uneasiness rising.
“I didn’t call Raina.”
“I spoke with you myself.”
Panic rages through Kas, “I never called!” A sickening shot of fear plows into him, “Trace her phone.”
The seconds tick by torturously as Erik runs the trace.
“Her phone must be off.”
“Check the GPS on her car.”
Another unbearable pause.
“Her car is at the docks,” Erik pauses, his mouth going dry, “you better get there.”
Kas is already on the road, his siren blaring and emergency lights flashing. “Call Pete, have him check on Sutton.” His furiously pounding heart is in his throat as he speeds towards the docks. Debilitating terror threatens to seize his entire being as flashbacks of Chris viciously beating Raina attack him, making him speed dangerously down the highway.
The concrete room is damp, cold, and musty. The wraithy sounds of Chris breathing reverberates between the stale walls. Raina is barely breathing as she focuses on staying calm, an impossible feat when Chris tosses the handcuffs at her, demanding her to put them on. She hesitates, knowing how limited she will be if her hands are restrained. The way Chris’ lips curve into a cruel smile and how he shifts his gun for a solid shot at her head, changes her mind, and she does as requested.
“Tighter,” Chris demands, making sure she obeys, “good girl.”
Violent fear spirals through Raina as Chris grabs her arm, pulling her body flush to his. She chokes back the revulsion when he pulls her shirt from its tucked position in her jeans and slides his hand underneath, inching to her breasts. His breath chills her skin as he lowers his mouth to her ear.
“You are mine, you always have been and, now, you always will be,” he whispers, his tongue slowly tracing the edge of her earlobe.
Raina struggles to breathe. The feel of his hands roughly groping underneath her bra and sliding between the denim of her jeans and her flesh sends an overwhelming rush of nausea, making her dizzy. She quickly glances around the room for a weapon, but it’s empty, except for his laptop. Severely chastising herself for her stupidity, she realizes how he must have used a voice enhancing program to impersonate Kas.
“We don’t have much time,” Chris states, reluctantly stepping back and grabbing her bound wrist, pulling her towards the door.
Knowing exactly what’s to come if she leaves, Raina decides fighting is her only option. She pulls against his grasp, desperately trying to control her fear.
“Let’s go,” he demands, tugging her hard.
“No.”
Chris’ eyes cut through her, “You will do as I say! I have your cell phone blocked, but I’m sure it won’t be long before they trace your car. We have to leave, now.”
“NO!”
His slap leaves her cheek stinging painfully and a nagging buzzing in her ear. Raina wipes away the blood from her lip, and anger quickly replaces her fear. Her eyes are a blazing jade as she screams at him, “You can hit me all you want, but I will
never
go with you!”
Chris smacks the butt of the gun hard against the side of her head and grabs her hair, yanking it roughly, as he slams her against the wall. “Shut up, Shut up, SHUT UP!”
The side and back of Raina’s head throbs from the harsh strike and impact, causing her vision to momentarily blur, but she can still see the crazed look in Chris’ eyes, and she knows she is dealing with someone who is not currently in grips with reality. His erratic breathing, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall, shows his struggle to regain composure. Taming her own breathing is difficult as her mind runs through every move Si fu Shang has taught her. She feels the cool metal of the barrel of his gun against her head as Chris continues to roughly grasp handfuls of her hair in his fists, keeping her pinned against the wall.
Blood trickles down the side of her face, and she sees a flash of regret in Chris’ eyes as he finally backs away. His expression is pained as he looks at her.
“I thought about you every minute of every day.”
“I didn’t think about you at all,” she lies; she dreaded the weeks leading up to his release.
His eyes turn dark, cold. “I have a program with your sweet voice, too. I’ll just give your
husband
a call and have him join us,” he threatens, pure hatred spewing from him when he refers to her matrimony.
Raina’s face is ghastly white as his intentions storm her brain. Her eyes dart to the gun he is tauntingly holding, and she vehemently shakes her head. “What do you want from me?” she asks, her voice raw and exhausted.
“Every part of you.”
His words send her emotions straight into an abyss of trepidation. Raina swallows back her fear, not allowing herself to show any kind of emotion that will only feed into Chris’ wickedness, knowing he will gladly kill Kas given the chance. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”