Bound by Lies: Bound #1 (Adult Romantic Suspence) (23 page)

I kick something without meaning to, making a rustling
sound. Shit. I cringe. Did somebody hear that? Please let no one hear that. I
hold my breath, trying to listen over the thud of my heart in my ears.

Nothing. Well, I think there’s nothing.

I look down to the object I have kicked. It’s a bag. A bag
of coffee beans. In the gloom I can just make out the lettering “Colombia” on
the bag. I frown. The bag has been ripped open, and there are some wayward
beans about the concrete, but there’s some sort of residue on the lip of the
bag and the floor. My curiosity getting the better of me, I bend down, catching
the smell of coffee beans. I press my finger into the powder on the floor and
pinch a bit. I hold it up and rub it between my finger and thumb, frowning.
What the…

I dab the tip of my tongue with my finger. Where the powder
touches my tongue, it starts to tingle and goes numb. Oh God. I know what this
is. I learned about it and its effects in my nursing course. A cold chill
settles on me. This is why they’re trying to kill me. Not because Hooknose recognized
me, but because they have drugs in this warehouse. Now I’m a witness. And they
can’t have witnesses.

Oh God. Caden led me here. Caden’s a drug dealer.

It all makes sense. His secrets, his dual identities, the
letters postmarked from Colombia, all his money. It’s drug money. The man I
love is a criminal. And now because I know, he’ll have to kill me if he finds
me. He even warned me once.

“Okay, Cade. Who are you?”

“Be careful what you ask me. You may not like the
answer.”

I thought he was joking. This is why he never wanted me
completely in his life. This is what he was keeping from me. And in some
twisted way he was trying to protect me by keeping these things from me. And
his rules about not touching him or being able to see him… he must have gang
tattoos on his body or jail tattoos. So when I demanded not to be blindfolded…

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Caden’s hands
shake around me with rage. “If you did, if you only knew, you wouldn’t fucking
ask. If you knew…”

My heart breaks with the realization and hot liquid squeezes
out of my eyes. Oh, Caden, you were right. I didn’t know what I was asking for.
Now that know I wish I didn’t. But it’s too late. I can never go back to being
ignorant. Never. Now we stand apart on two sides of a dividing line and neither
of us can cross it. How do I pretend not to know that about you? I can’t. We
can never be together again. It’s over.

A noise snaps me out of my thoughts and I flinch. What was
that? It comes again from the entrance of the warehouse. Talking. Two male
voices. Oh God. They’ve followed me in here. Footsteps clip across the concrete
floor. Coming towards me.

I have to pull it together or I’m dead. I wipe my eyes as I
glance across to the open sky through the warehouse and at the forest of crates
between. It’s still too far away. If I make a run for it, I’ll get caught. I
need to hide. Hide where? My eyes search around me. I see that one of the
crates near me is open, the wooden panel removed from one side and lying flat
on the floor. I can see the irregular shapes of more coffee bags inside.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.” Caden’s voice, so
close, sends a wash of cold fear through me. Oh God. He’s coming for me.

I duck into the open crate and slip into the back, cringing
as a bag rustles when I brush past it. I crouch behind a pile of bags near the
back. The air is musty back here. My lungs are screaming at me for more oxygen,
but I force myself to take small shallow breaths. I have to stay calm. I have
to stay still long enough for them to check the warehouse and move on.

I lift my eyes above the bags. My breath hitches as a figure
walks into the square view at the entrance to this crate. Oh God. It’s Caden. I
would recognize his looming figure anywhere. My heart slams against my ribs
when I notice the gun he is holding in his hands.

He turns his head to look inside the crate. I duck down
further. Please don’t come in here, please. My insides are screaming and
thrashing,
run
, my skin is prickling all over me, making me tremble. Even
the hairs on my skin leap into the air in an attempt to escape.

I hear a footstep as Caden takes a step inside the crate, blocking
my only way out. My throat squeezes. I’m cornered in here. Oh fuck. I’m
cornered. Caden’s going to find me.

With a shaking hand I carefully reach behind me and slip the
gun from my belt. I hear another footstep over the roar of blood in my veins.
My fingers squeeze around the gun handle. Caden wouldn’t really hurt me would
he? If he knew it was me back here? Would he?

A cold thought rips through my already broken heart like it was
paper. Yes, he would. He has no other choice. Just like I have no choice
either. If he finds me I’m going to have to shoot.

I’m sorry, Caden.

I hear the creak of wood as he takes another step closer.
He’s coming. I can feel his presence looming towards me. It seems to get darker
in this crate like his body is blocking out all the light. I clench my gun, aim
just above the bags and wait for his head to appear.

I’ve never shot anyone before. Now I’m about to shoot Caden.
Caden. The man I love. Oh God, how much of me will die with him? How much?

I hear another step. He’s just over the other side of this
pile of coffee bags. He’s right there. Right there. My finger shakes as it
curls around the trigger. Get ready. Then I catch his scent, his wood smoke, my
home. My insides crumble. My vision blurs behind hot tears. I can’t do it. I
can’t kill him. I can’t.

You must. It’s your life or his…

He takes another step. I can feel my mouth and face screwing
up as I start to cry silently, my gun shaking along with my body. I don’t know
what I’m going to do. I don’t know whether I can pull this trigger. I don’t
know. I don’t fucking know.

Another step. I break. I collapse around myself, burying my
face in my hand, trying to hold all this clenching aching pain in. Fear leaks
out of my pores because I know he has won. I’m not a killer. I can’t do it. He
wins.

I prepare for death.

I hear another step and another. But something doesn’t sound
right. Caden’s steps sound like they are getting further away. It can’t be
possible. Caden should have found me. One more step and he would have found me.
Why didn’t he find me?

I peer up over the bags, slowly. I see Caden step out from
the crate and disappear from view as he moves further into the warehouse. I
wipe my eyes to clear my vision. A warm numbing sinks down through my body as I
stare at the empty space before me where Caden was just standing. What just
happened? I can’t have been this lucky. I can’t. If he took one more step he
would have had me. Why didn’t he grab me and drag me out?

Maybe it’s some sort of trick? I stay where I am and wait.
And try to calm the beating of my heart.

Some minutes later I hear someone coming closer. I tense as
I peer out from my hiding spot. Caden stalks into view, his gun still held at
the ready. A feel a stab of fear mixed with an unwanted ache. He’s still my
Caden. My beautiful strong Caden.

My heart clenches. No. He’s not mine anymore.

Caden pauses for a moment at the entrance to the crate and
glances in. Right at me. I freeze, every cell turning to ice from the inside
out. Then he turns his head and passes out of view. No. He wasn’t looking right
at me. He didn’t even see me. I exhale, causing my body to wither.

“I don’t think she’s in here,” I hear the distant echo of
Caden calling.

My eyes close in a brief prayer. I stay where I am,
listening. I may just get out of here alive. I may, if I can just keep it
together. The other man calls back. I can’t hear what he is saying. I stare at
the space beyond the crate, afraid to even blink, convinced that one of them
will come back. But the noises of the two men fade until there is only the
beating of my heart in my ears. I’m still a shaking ball of fear inside, but I
have to move. I can’t stay here. I have to try for the water.

I creep out from my hiding spot towards the entrance of the
crate, placing each step carefully, avoiding a bag of coffee fallen across my
path. I grip my gun in my hand, the hard steel bringing little relief.

I peer around the edge of the crate, first towards the
warehouse entrance, then to the direction of the water. But I see no one. I
hear no one. A small surge of hope flitters in my insides, which are as cold
and violent as a winter storm. I may get out of here alive.

I pause when I see the open bag of coffee on the floor and
the spill of powder. Should I take some? As evidence? Should I call the police
and tell them about this place? I should. It’s the right thing to do.

Then I laugh into my mouth and it tastes bitter. Yeah right.
Like the police would do anything. They’ve probably been paid off to ignore
this place. I’ve got to look out for myself. No one else will do it.

I step from the crate, being careful to make no noise, and
begin to creep across the warehouse towards the night sky. The stars are my
guide. They promise freedom. But it’s so far away. So impossibly far. The
crates around me loom up like giants and their shadows fall about like black
holes waiting to trap me in their depths.

As I move I have to keep myself from screaming.
Please
let me get out of here, please.
My insides tumble and I just want to let
all this fear out, but I can’t, I can’t, I just have to keep going. The hair on
my neck stands on end, my skin crawls and I feel like someone’s watching me,
someone’s behind me, and I keep turning my head, but they move again behind me,
always behind me. Oh God, please just let me get out of here.

My breathe shakes through my lips in a soft wheezing manic
kind of laugh when I slip between the last row of crates and see the sky open
up in front of me. I slap my hand over my mouth. Shit. Shut up girl. Are you
mad? Someone might hear you.

I blink in case I am dreaming. But there it is, the sky, the
water, my escape. Right there, meters away.

This end of the warehouse has no wall at all and a crane is
set into the flooring, taking up the center of the space. Through the open
space I can hear mechanical noises.

I aim left and keep moving through the crates until I hit
the left side of the warehouse. I follow this wall until I press aside the
edge. I peer around the wall. I can see the neighboring warehouse full of light
and movement. A ship is anchored at the edge of the warehouse and the crane arm
is unloading shipping containers off the ship. The container makes a resonating
bang when it settles on the ground.

I look down. The water is about a meter or so below. If I
hang from the edge and slip in, I should make the least amount of noise. If I
time my entry with the next bang of the shipping container, no one, hopefully,
will hear my splash. It should be dark enough where I am that no one can see
me. I glance back up to the ship to watch for the crane.

Then I notice that the ship has a name and a symbol painted
on one side. I frown as I squint through the dark. Desmona, I think, is the
ship’s name. And the symbol… Oh God. I recognize that symbol. That crest. That
eagle with a shield and a wreath for a halo. Fear grips my body like an
electric shock. It’s the same crest that I had marked on my skin. The Tyrell
crest. That ship belongs to the Tyrells. So this property, these warehouses,
these drugs…

Caden works for the Tyrells. He works for Jacob. No. No, no,
no. It can’t be. It can’t.

Think about it. This is why Caden was following you
before we met. This is how he knew who you were.

But… why didn’t he turn me in to Jacob? Why does he act like
he cares for me? Why? This doesn’t make sense. My insides struggle in growing
frustration to make these pieces fit, but they don’t fit.

Or maybe I just don’t want to see the truth.

I snap out of my thoughts when I see the crane moving
another container from the ship. I have to move. I’m still in danger here. I tuck
my gun in my pants and climb over the edge. My feet and calves slip into the
water. It is cold and slimy and it smells putrid. I try not to think about what
may be floating in it.

I wait for the bang. Come on. My fingers are now aching as I
hang from them. I don’t think I can hang on for much longer.

Bang
.

I let go and slide into the water. It is too deep for me to
stand. I start to swim along the docks, away from the ship, pulling and pushing
myself off from the posts. My wet clothes are heavy and restrict my movements.
I empty my pockets letting my useless torch and mobile phone float down into
the depths of this river. I unhook the gun from my belt and let that go. I kick
off my sneakers and they too fall away before I start off again.

I just stay focused on keeping my head above water and
breathing and moving as fast and as silently as I can. If I think about
anything else it’ll become too much. I pass the boundary into another lot. But
I keep going. And another lot and another lot, but I keep swimming. My breath
is heaving, but I keep pushing. Just a little further. A little further and
you’ll be safe.

At the end of the docks it becomes marshy land. Somewhere in
the tangles of that marsh, I drag myself up out of the water and roll onto my
back on the bank. God, I need. A minute. Breathe. Just breathe.

I want to close my eyes and fall asleep, but I can’t. I
won’t let myself stop. Not until I am safe.

“Come on,” I whisper to myself. “You’ve survived worse. Get
up.”

I push myself to sitting, every muscle groaning from the
exertion, then to standing. I pull myself through the brushes that edge the
river and stumble to the street dripping wet, exhausted and starving with no
money and no way of getting anywhere. What the hell do I do now?