Sixes & Sevens (Seven Hearts Book 1)
Read Sixes & Sevens (Seven Hearts Book 1) Online
Authors: G.E. Kelly
Sixes & Sevens
By G.E. Kelly
Text copyright © 2016 G.E. Kelly
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever, without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
I would like to thank you for downloading my book. I feel I should mention this book is intended for an adult audience and includes themes that some may find offensive, rather than entertaining as intended. Please know yourself, and whether a “reverse harem” theme is right for you. That being said, I would love it if you would write a book review on the retailer’s website. Please do keep in mind I wear my heart on my sleeve. If you didn’t like my book, I understand, but please try to be kind. If you liked or loved my book, please recommend it to your friends. I would love to gather enough followers to do fun games and character reveals through social media.
On a side note, I have made rather unconventional chapter titles that some may find confusing. Each chapter is titled with an uncommon word, for a common item or state of being, that is somehow related to the chapter. Welcome to my crazy head, I hope you enjoy the ride! Thank you!
Effluvium (a foul smell or odor)
Overmorrow (the day after tomorrow)
Collywobbles (stomach butterflies)
Verecund (shy, bashful, or modest)
Limerence (initial rush of falling in love)
Petrichor (the way it smells after a rain)
Mamihlapinatapai (two people hoping the other will initiate)
Dysania (feeling it is hard to get out of bed in the morning)
Lopeholt (a safe place or refuge)
Eustress (stress caused by a positive event)
Absquatulate (to leave abruptly)
Delitescent (concealed or hidden)
Accismus (feigned disinterest in something you desire)
Gramercy (expression of gratitude or surprise)
Hypocorism (diminutive form of a name; nickname)
Bogglish (being skittish about something)
Geason (rare, amazing, extraordinary, uncommon)
Osculation (the act of kissing)
Efflorescence (flowering, blooming)
Propinquity (proximity, nearness)
December 12, 2003
Paul Monroe had tucked his daughter, Jaycee, into bed an hour before. As the black van pulled up to his house, he was fast asleep. Which was why he didn’t hear the slight shatter of breaking glass on their rear sliding door. His brain registered the noise, but he remained hovering between sleep and wakefulness. He had pulled a double today, and was beat. Jaycee’s door was open wide—she couldn’t sleep with the door closed—but Paul had closed his. He hadn’t wanted to wake up if she got up for a glass of water or to use the restroom. Never knowing, he picked the wrong night to block out ambient noise.
Three men wearing face masks crept through the house. They weren’t there for money or valuables, at least not of the inanimate kind. They were there for the kid…for Jaycee. The innocent little girl with cobalt eyes and dark chocolate tresses. She dreamed the sweet dreams of youth, not knowing three vicious killers were stalking her in the night. Why would three grown men hunt down an elementary school girl? Why take the time, the risk? They planned to auction her off. Human trafficking isn’t common in the states, but it still exists. Warped beings who want to use people for hard labor and sexual acts…their victims would be sold to the highest bidders around the world.
Jaycee didn’t live a social life; she kept at home most of the time. There was one main reason she’d been targeted…she was alone far too often. Paul wasn’t supposed to be home that night, but his coworker had called in sick that morning, so he’d been forced to work a double earlier in the day. That forced his boss’s hand in letting him have the night off. Jaycee was young, only six and a half, but she was mature for her age. Having her father gone so often with work, she’d had to raise herself in the intervening time. Sometimes, Jaycee would even get the neighbors to drop her off at the library. Occasionally she’d walk home alone, instead of calling the Wallners to pick her up again. It wasn’t far, but it had left her vulnerable.
One of the men stood next to Jaycee’s bed and watched her sleep. “She’ll be perfect for the auction,” he whispered to his companions.
“The young ones are easier to train” another replied.
“And still pure.” The last man curled his lip as he pinned his gaze on Jaycee. He liked to find the young ones, you couldn’t rely on teenagers to be virgins these days, and a slut didn’t sell. Why buy what you can get for free? The younger ones would be trained until they were old enough.
The first man put his gloved hand across Jaycee’s mouth, as he pulled the blanket off her sleeping form. Her eyes flew open; she was a light sleeper. Her breathing was harsh through her nose, her nostrils flaring, and her eyes flew around the room in a panic. Who were these men?! What was happening?! She tried to call out for her dad, pushing to get up and run, but the man merely pushed his gloved hand further into her face and held her down.
“Shut up!” he hissed at her. He moved to straddle her on the bed, in an attempt to secure her, but in repositioning he lifted his hand from her mouth for just a second.
“H-Help! Daddy!!! P-please?!? N-No!!” When the man’s hand lifted from her face, her cries rang out in the still night. Jaycee had never stopped screaming even through her tears. She sobbed and cried out for help till her throat was dry and scratchy, and still she didn’t give up. A thump was heard from the other bedroom! The sound of a drawer being wrenched open and slammed shut blasted in the still night. Footsteps raced down the hall as the tell-tale click of a slide was heard, as a Glock was locked and loaded. Paul had been awakened by Jaycee’s screams. He raced into the room. After a second’s survey, he pulled the man pinning Jaycee to the bed off of his screaming daughter and threw him on the floor. Paul’s aim was true, one bullet straight to the heart. The gun was knocked out of his hand. Turning toward the two other assailants he leveled a kick to the first man’s groin, sending him to his knees. The other man delivered a punch to Paul’s jaw, before Paul punched the piece of shit in the throat.
Police sirens cried out in the distance. An officer on patrol had heard the shots. Paul fought to keep the other assailants on the ground while the police arrived. They scrambled to break free of Paul’s hold, and with their combined efforts managed to overpower him and haul themselves out of the room. They ran out at breakneck speed, jumped into their running vehicle, and sped away. Paul pulled himself to his feet, racing to check on Jaycee. She was choking on her tears, coughing and sputtering. He aided her in standing and clapped a hand on her back. When she could breathe again, she resumed sobbing and screaming. Paul pressed her face gently to his chest and held her tight. She was still dressed; they hadn’t touched her like that.
Paul pulled Jaycee away to look her over, she was lightly painted with blood splatter from his clothes. He was horrified by what he’d done; by what she’d seen. But he didn’t regret killing the bastard who tried to hurt his little girl. He only regretting having to do it in front of Jaycee. He hadn’t known what the man had been doing to Jaycee, only that he hovered over her, and Paul had seen red. Jaycee was all he had left. He was all she had…the police would see it was self-defense. A man has the right to protect his family, right?
The police had come, but the officers on duty that night were dirty. They were fully entrenched in the pockets of the judges who ruled over the county. Most of those judges belonged to the crime lords who were pushing to gain new ground. Whether they were dirty themselves, or were being coerced or blackmailed was unknown. With the kidnapping having gotten out of hand, and the media surely two steps behind, the men intending to abduct Jaycee were forced to let her go. She would be too high profile now to touch. Sure enough, the night crawlers had arrived. Evidence was slowly being washed away by the feet of the bystanders, and the rain that started to fall in heavy sheets.
Following orders from above, the dirty cops took Jaycee to a neighbor’s house, giving her to the old couple living there to watch. Social services would need to be called. It was a damn mess! They needed to get rid of the evidence and spin the story. It had to look like murder, not self-defense. Considering Paul had shot the man point blank, it was a bit easier, but the girl was a witness. Maybe she’d have amnesia from the trauma? They could hope…it was going to be a long night.
Marc had heard noises during the night, but hadn’t known what was happening, till he awoke to a strange girl in his kitchen early that morning. The young waif staring at Marc with glassy eyes was beautiful, even if she did seem fragile, maybe even broken. Her long dark hair hung in damp messy waves around her striking blue eyes. Tears made deep rivers down the girl’s face dripping down to pool on the worn linoleum at her feet. He’d never seen her before.
“This is Jaycee Monroe,” his grandmother told him, her hands resting on Jaycee’s shoulders. “She lives next door.” Or she had, before last night. Before the sound of gunshots had broken the sleepy silence of their subdivision in Maple Grove, Missouri. Before police and news crews had descended in droves to make chaos out of their narrow street. Before the tiny six-year-old girl had known what it was like to have her whole world ripped away in a matter of minutes. “There’s been a travesty. We’re going to take care of her now,” she finished, turning to grab towels and hot water to rid the girl of the blood still staining her face and clothes.
The girl simply stood there letting Annie, Marc’s grandmother, fuss over her. The only movement Jaycee made was silent sobs that shook her tiny frame. He wanted to help her, to protect her from whatever pain consumed her, but what did a nine-year-old know about soothing scars?! He knew plenty about pain, courtesy of his selfish mother, but comfort was a recent turn of events in his life. He’d only been sent to live with his grandparents a few months before! Cautiously, he approached Jaycee till he stood within arm’s reach. He moved slowly, so as not to startle her, and gently took her hand in his own.
“I’m Marc. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe now,” Marc told her in a shaky voice.
She didn’t pull away or resist. She simply let him hold her hand, and vacantly stared into his hazel eyes. Jaycee, the poor girl whose father murdered a man. Rumors circled the neighborhood, but no one really knew what had happened next door. The only knowledge widely accepted was that Jaycee’s father, Paul, had shot and killed a man. Paul Monroe would probably go to prison. The judges in Maple Grove had a reputation. A greasy one.
All Marc knew on that chilly morning was that he felt drawn to Jaycee. He’d never felt anything like it before. Females of all ages often paid him extra attention on account of his handsome face. Longer blond hair hung to his shoulders that were still lean with youth, his hazel eyes an object of curiosity. He hadn’t cared about their stares one way or another, he never made any effort to encourage them either. They were like the flowers in his grandmother’s garden, pretty, but for him they served no real purpose. Jaycee was different, he knew it the way he knew his mother was never coming back to get him. Some things you just felt were true, deep down in your bones.
Marc spent the rest of the day watching his grandparents care for the girl. They’d cooked for her, though she hadn’t been able to stomach a bite… She wouldn’t speak, she couldn’t eat, she just sat there, broken. He’d even tried to read to her, but all attempts were met with more tears. When he wasn’t allowed in the room, he would sit outside the guest bedroom and listen. He needed to know she was okay.
Marc’s grandparents had forced him to go to bed that night, without telling him what would become of Jaycee. He wanted to sleep by her bedside, but they told him it wouldn’t be appropriate. That’s why it hurt so much when he woke up the next morning and Jaycee was gone. Social services had come to collect Jaycee before Marc had woken up. He had asked about her repeatedly at breakfast, but his grandfather had simply shaken his head, and piled food on Marc’s plate. As if filling his belly with bacon and eggs could erase the memory of yesterday. The memory of blood, of pain…of Jaycee.
Why did adults think a full stomach could fix anything? Why wouldn’t anyone tell him what happened to Jaycee? Was she going to be okay? Where was she being taken? Why couldn’t she live with them? The only response Marc received were sad smiles and teary eyes.
It would take Marc months of gathering information to learn any concrete details about Jaycee, all anyone wanted to talk about was her father. Everyone believed he had done it, that he had killed that man without good cause. His grandparents being the one exception. They had lived next to Paul for years, attended his wife Patty’s funeral years before, and watched him raise Jaycee quietly. The Monroes didn’t have many friends. Working to put food on their table had taken up most of Paul’s time, and the rest went to raising his daughter. When the news traveled around about what had occurred that night, no one believed Paul’s story. The evidence was missing, and who would believe the word of a young girl over several adults? Wouldn’t she lie to protect her father? Kids often make up wild stories, especially when they couldn’t handle the truth.
After the crime scene tape had been removed, Marc had started sneaking into Jaycee’s home. Everything had been wrapped up rapidly. Much faster than the situation warranted. The house was being put on the market soon, and no one was watching it in the meantime. The effluvium was strong, chemicals had been used to strip the house of blood and tissue. Without anyone in residence the smell remained bottled up. Most of Jaycee’s personal items were gone, but a few of her belongings remained. Photographs were still hidden away in a coat closet, and Marc dug out a couple of Jaycee to keep. He looked for any evidence of where she had been taken.
Marc couldn’t find any information, no addresses for relatives. No godparents, no close friends. How would he find her?! He didn’t have much money to speak of, his mother never gave him much of anything before she dumped him on his grandparents. He’d recently been given an allowance but he had to do chores to earn the cash. Marc hadn’t had any motivation before, so he’d only earned forty dollars. Most of which he’d wasted on junk.
He needed a plan! Somehow he had to find Jaycee, no matter how long it took, but surely even finding her would require money. Then there was also the matter of how he could help her. His grandparents hadn’t tried to take Jaycee in, and while he couldn’t really blame them since they’d just been saddled with him, he was a tad resentful nonetheless. Surely they could have afforded one more mouth to feed, or if not, they could have cut his mother off. At her age she really deserved a taste of reality. If they could afford to support both him and his mother, why couldn’t they help Jaycee too?! As small as she was, she wouldn’t need much, he’d argued.
Winter break had just begun when his mother packed him up and left him with Annie and Ed, but soon he’d be heading back to school. Without a way to house Jaycee, even if he found her, he was back to square one. He’d have to bide his time. Marc needed a job, one that would make more than a few dollars here and there. Something that would give him the ability to travel, something that even kids were allowed to do.
His mother had entered him in talent and beauty competitions, not for his benefit, but for hers. Walking away with a trophy made his mother feel special, even if he was the one doing all the work. It was something to brag about to her equally shallow friends. He could model…that was it! He’d use the face his mother had both loved and hated to fund his mission.
Annie had been encouraging Marc to get out into the world, to join clubs, contests, anything. She and his grandpa Ed were afraid his mother’s abandonment would make him think less of himself. In trying to encourage his self-esteem, they’d been pushing him into the same activities his mother had. They didn’t realize his mother had been forcing him to parade around for her friends for years, and when he’d stopped cooperating, her parental interest had waned. Luckily, his mother hadn’t wandered far from her parents; mostly, so she wouldn’t have to travel very far to mooch off them. He hadn’t needed to change schools. In the new year he would return to the all-boys private boarding school called Saint Benedict’s. Marc lived there during the school year and was home on breaks. As it was just after Christmas, he didn’t have much of the winter break left.