The GPS coordinates wouldn’t save us as there was no one coming. The little blinking location on Gil’s phone was utterly pointless.
Gil might still be alive.
But...I was dead.
Olive was dead.
Every heartbeat on borrowed time.
Olive hadn’t stopped crying. I’d lost track of how long Jeffrey had dragged us through the dark. The paint on my skin tugged the fine hairs beneath. The bite in the air dressed me in chills. And Olive’s hiccups and distress sent empathy digging deep into my soul.
Her grief consumed the entire forest.
Her belief that her father was dead absolute.
I wanted to comfort her.
To tell her he might be okay. He might live. He might still come and save us.
But I had no air in my lungs from being hung upside down. I had no freedom from pounding temples or slithering tiredness that still threatened to drag me under.
Jeffrey snapped a curse, hauling Olive into a walk as she tripped mid-cry.
She’d just witnessed her father being shot, and he didn’t care at all.
Numbness spread over my stomach, doing its best to protect me from the pain of being carted like a kill. My ears strained for sounds of someone chasing us. Of Gil barrelling through the darkness, healthy and very much alive.
But there was nothing.
No one.
Just my terrified thoughts jumping from topic to topic.
Of freedom.
Of fighting.
Of forgiveness.
Gil hadn’t wanted to do this to me. He’d thought he could win by gambling two lives in order to save one.
But he’d lost.
Three lives in one.
His family...his true blood...his child.
A child that couldn’t stop sobbing.
Jeffrey snarled again, hushing Olive so that only the hoots of owls and scratchings of foxes serenaded us as we travelled the final way.
His footsteps slowed as we reached a small clearing. I tried to see around the upside-down view of his butt but could only make out a lumbering shape in the gloom.
Olive tripped again, only to be hauled to her feet thanks to the rope around her wrists and a harsh jerk from Jeffrey. A clink of keys sounded as he shoved them at her. “Run ahead and unlock, sweetheart. You know the rules now, don’t you?”
She sniffed loudly. The keys stopped singing as her fist clutched them, and she shot forward away from Jeffrey’s abuse. The rope wrapped around her wrists slithered after her in the bracken like a venomous snake.
She moved as if she knew this place well. As if this was her home, all while Gil had done his best to save her. Jeffrey chuckled as he jostled me higher, carrying me to where Olive sniffed and struggled to unzip a large tent.
Bending his knees, my captor groaned as he slid me from his shoulder and plonked me onto the forest floor. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The release of pressure from my ribcage was too much, and my lungs no longer knew how to operate.
My head pounded as blood whooshed from my ears and back into my legs. Grey and black spots danced over my vision as I shook my head, doing my best to clear the remaining fogginess.
Whatever this place was, I couldn’t afford to stay a victim. Jeffrey had shot Gil after telling him he’d keep us alive for better motivation. He’d ended his retirement pay-out by shooting him, so why would he need to keep us breathing?
We were merely a nuisance now and not an incentive.
Time was running out.
Jeffrey checked the rope around my wrists and ankles, re-tightened the knots Gil had done around my wrists, undid the ones around my legs, and hauled me to my feet.
He grunted as I wobbled. “For fuck’s sake, I’ve carried you for long enough. Walk the final distance.” Shoving me forward, he chuckled as I plummeted to my knees. With my hands tied and balance still compromised, I face-planted into a rotten pile of leaves and muck.
“Don’t know what he saw in you.” He nudged me with his boot as I pushed up and did my best to stand. His gentle kick was enough to land me in the dirt again. “Come on, Bambi, don’t have all day.”
I threw him a glower over my shoulder. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“This. Whatever you’re doing. Let us go.”
I fought for the child of the woman who’d ruined Gil’s life. A child of her creation. But Olive was Gil’s, not Tallup’s.
And this bastard shot him.
My heart squeezed, allowing the word ‘death’ to sink past my fortress. I didn’t have time to grieve.
Sticking my chin up, I forced myself to picture Gil alive. I stood, working out the tightness in my muscles as my body came alive after being hung like drying meat, and focused on freeing myself and Olive.
Jeffrey grinned. “Didn’t learn your lesson from last time, huh? You’re still using that dangerous little word.” His face shot close to mine. “Us.”
“Fine. Release Olive and me.”
“Nope.” He laughed. “Why would I do a stupid thing like that?”
“You shot Gil. What other use do you have with us if he’s not around to pay your demands?”
“Oh, I have other ideas.” He tapped his nose with airs and graces of a secret. “He did a good job padding my retirement. He kept his mouth shut and his wallet open. It’ll be sad not to have such a lucrative nephew, but...” His hand shot out, arching my chin up with his knuckle, bringing the whiff of old cigarettes. “You two can fetch me a pretty penny in other ways.”
I wanted to spit in his face. “We’re not for sale.”
“Sweetheart, everything is for sale.” He smirked coldly. “Gilbert knew that lesson very well.”
My teeth clenched together, hate rolling over me like a wave.
Jeffrey pulled me through the tent’s entrance, revealing it wasn’t a tent but an awning attached to a caravan. A three-seater couch sat beneath an outdoor heater along with a coffee table, TV, and two plastic boxes of household supplies. A threadbare rug covered most of the bracken and twigs, creating the illusion that this was a cheery cabin in some safe woodland. The caravan door hung open, spilling light into the awning.
“Gil was born to whores and became a whore. Their shelf life isn’t the longest—just like any merchandise.” Jeffrey looked me up and down, licking his lips. “He was at the end of his use-by-date. But you...you’re just getting started. I’ll probably sample you before I sell you. Write a review for prospective buyers—that’ll be a laugh. Are you worth one star or five?” He snickered to himself, dragging me up the caravan steps.
Olive whimpered as we entered the cramped space. She huddled against a window, wedged between a long table with bench seats on either side. She pulled her legs up, scrunching them against her chest. She hugged herself tight, while her chin rested on her knees.
Colouring books scattered the narrow table, revealing vibrant doodles and designs outside of the printed mandalas. She was Gil’s daughter all right: she had his talent with colour.
I gave her a smile. A smile that I hoped said I was there for her and I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. A smile that most likely said the same things her face did: that we were screwed and all on our own.
She gave me a watery smile back, tears still falling silently down her cheeks.
Jeffrey pushed me until I slammed into a bench seat opposite Olive. My bound wrists throbbed as they smashed against the table. Pencils jumped at the impact.