Chapter One
Two Flew the Coop
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. What do I do now?
I’m so scrambled at the urgency and the reunion that I’m not sure what I’m even grabbing for toiletries. My bag is filling up rapidly; so hopefully, I’m taking what I need. My mind is firmly on the stick I hid in my bra.
Fucking nosey ass FBI and psychotic criminals make it where I doubt even my trash is safe. I even flushed the packaging. Well, tried to anyway. Currently, a piece of the box is trying to make a comeback, but it's not like I can get away with plunging it with Braeden right on the other side of the door– he'd insist on coming in to fix it.
So, pee stick in the bra it is, and a closed toilet lid with a prayer that it all disintegrates into an unrecognizable pulp. At least the wrapper actually made it down. I'll have to find somewhere along the way to ditch the test.
Bag full, I'm heading for the door when the boxes of tampons and pads on the shelf above the toilet catch my eye. Can't forget those after Brade's comment.
Stuffing them in the bag, I take a deep breath, gather my composure, and exit the bathroom.
I find Apollo is the only one waiting for me, with two bags resting at his feet, while he peruses the collage frames on the wall.
The pictures are from all my big moments as well as having the last one taken of my parents before they died in a car crash a couple of years ago.
Coming up behind him, I tentatively address Apollo. "I think I'm all finished if you're ready."
He spins, features unreadable except his piercing eyes. Without warning, he scoops me up, crushing my chest to his, and fuses our lips roughly. His tongue doesn't waste any time demanding entry, and I acquiesce immediately, twining my arms around his neck to keep him there.
Right or wrong, some fucked up mental thing or not, he became more important than I'd thought. Both of them, actually. I hadn't realized just how dearly I'd missed him and Marcus. The adjustment to coming home has been so jumbled and emotional that I'd avoided my feelings on the subject. Even in therapy, which I know I shouldn’t, but I just couldn't deal with judgment or being told I’m wrong in my feelings.
A throat clearing interrupts the moment, and Apollo slowly lowers me until my feet reach the floor. The intense eye contact he holds as he does so makes it clear that we’ll be finishing this later.
“Alright, you two. Time to go, suck face later. And Birdie, thank fuck, that’s the first I’ve seen that things are going to be okay.” Braeden has a half-smile on his face when I turn in Apollo’s embrace to look at him.
“Been having issues, Nightingale?” Apollo tips his head down to whisper in my ear.
Uncomfortable, I shrug and move away. Who wouldn’t have issues? Even Brade has had some bad days.
“A few, but it’s getting better.” I aim a death glare at my bestie when he starts to open his mouth. Marcus, standing in the doorway behind him, cocks a brow in surprise but stays quiet on the subject.
“If we have everything, let's get going. I don’t want to chance any mishaps, so we’ll meet up with the others as soon as we can,” Marcus says.
“Wait, I thought we were going to separate safe houses.” Apollo’s confusion is apparent.
Marcus waves us along to get moving. “We were, but Brent's was hit, along with a couple of others. Now Rex and Emmett have gone for him, and we’re going to one of my bug-out set-ups. They’re looking for us, and from what I’ve pieced together, they’re after Lark to draw you out. We, or rather you, didn’t hide yourfeelings very well.” Marcus’ explanation is worrisome, to say the least.
With a last look around to check for anything I’ll need, I step out the back door, Braeden locking up behind us. A black SUV with darkly tinted windows is idling next to our rear gate in the alley. We stow our bags in the cargo area and hop in the back, leaving Marcus and Apollo the front seats. Apollo takes shotgun while Marcus gets behind the wheel.
Apollo has a tablet out with a Bluetooth headset hooked up to it. Marcus catches my questioning glance in the mirror and explains, “He’s watching the reports and listening for any chatter that indicates where Robert is now.” I get the drift that it’s not exactly legal, butIdon’t comment on it.
Marcus is checking and double-checking every intersection before he crosses through it, and it’s got my anxiety ramped up something awful. The feeling has me pushed directly back into the mindset of not being taken again, and I keep my thoughts to myself, knowing no one in the vehicle would appreciate them. Me or them, that shit ain’t happening a second time.
Once we’ve made it a ways out of the city, Marcus relaxes his vigilance slightly. Frankly, with it being nearly dark and mostly open space, it would be hard not to see someone coming. He must deem it safe enough to explain more and gives us vague information on where we’re going.
“Apollo has had me set up places near to everywhere we’ve been over the years. In the event something ever happened to him, or that I, or both of us, ever needed to run, there are set-ups all over the world with full contingency plans.”
At least we should be safe. Hopefully, Robert is taken out or re-captured quickly. I have my own issues, big and small, to deal with, and unfortunately, one of them is fairly time-sensitive. I can’t indefinitely hide out without anyone finding out. The itchy plastic feels like it's fused to my skin inside my bra, a constant reminder that I’m massively screwed.
Thinking of Robert or the test gives me a panicky sensation, and I try to suppress it. The panic attacks are getting better, but the news that Robert escaped is petrifying. The asshole who ran The Facility, a sex-trafficking ring hidden under a legitimate spa, is responsible for all the bad things in my recent past and my current predicaments. It's not going to be pleasant if he catches any of us on the run with Apollo. He's already abused his son for his entire life and Marcus' as well. I mean, who buys a child sex slave for their own kid and gives him as a present after killing said kid's mom and brother?
Robert Vitti, that's who. He also facilitated the branding scars we all share now, well, minus Apollo. As the heir to the shady empire, he got a tattoo of the symbol, a little sun with wavy rays extending from it— I shudder at the thought of it. I've been violated enough on the elder Vitti's orders and have zero intentions of meeting up with him again. I am at least happy to see Apollo and Marcus doing well; they were brave and good men helping to bring Robert down at the risk of their own lives— even if their methods were sometimes cruel.
Settling further into my seat, I try to blot out the memories. Brade will hound me for a week if he thinks I need his assistance— whether I want it or not.