Page 15

Carly

The morning after...

Softly closing the door, I made my way back into the living room.

All I wanted to do was curl up with a good book and read.

I had thought about taking Drew to Rockefeller Center last night to watch the tree lighting ceremony, but at the last minute, he started running a fever, which was quickly followed by vomiting. So, instead I got to spend the last twenty-four hours shoving fluids down him, cleaning up vomit and bathing him.

I still didn’t know what was wrong, but I was praying for a twenty-four-hour bug. Well, I prayed that was the cause because I really didn’t want to spend the entire day in the emergency room.

After grabbing a bottle of water, I curled up on the couch and reached for my book when I eyed the phone Shame gave me.

Picking it up, I flipped it open, and just like all the times before, nothing.

No calls.

No texts.

Flipping the phone closed, I sat up and looked around the small two-bedroom apartment.

It was cute.

Quaint even, but it wasn’t home.

I knew I would never have a home again.

But we would be safe. Well, at least that’s what my uncle and cousin told me. And for a short few years, we were, when we disappeared with the help of a man named Salvatore Valentinetti. He was nice and made damn sure that no one would ever find us. For a while, everything seemed normal, until it wasn’t. Until those still loyal to Mother and the Society burned my home to the ground after killing Issac.

I thought after Mother died, we were free of all that shit.

I should have known they would find us.

Mother was a pro at finding anyone. Why wouldn’t they be too?

I hated her. I hated what she did, who she was, what she made me do. Most of all, I hated that even in death, she was still causing problems. I just wanted them to leave me and Drew alone.

They already killed Issac.

What more did they want?

Reaching for the phone, I flipped it open and scrolled through the contacts.

There was only one.

His number.

I smirked at that.

Shame. What a name for a biker.

The night the Society found us and killed Issac, then burned down my house, Shame was there, offering me and Drew a way out, and I took it. I didn’t know how to reach my uncle or cousin or if they were alive. Besides, anything was better than what the Society had in store for me and Drew.

So, for the last few months, Drew and I had been living a low-key life. Off the grid, but not. My only communication with the outside was a simple flip-phone that Shame gave me or when the delivery guy showed up with our groceries. It was a solitary existence, and if not for Drew, I would have gone nuts by now.

I hated being cooped up, not being able to step out into the world for fear someone might recognize me. I thought last night would be our chance to get out for a bit. Big crowds, everyone enjoying the coming holiday season. No one would look twice at us, but then, shit happened.

It always did.

What I missed the most was talking to someone.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved talking to Drew. He was a cool kid, but he wasn’t an adult. When Shame first moved us into this apartment, he would stop by every weekend, stay for dinner and even play a game or two with Drew. But he hadn’t been by in months, and I was beginning to worry.

When Shame gave me this phone, he told me to only call in case of an emergency, and even I knew that boredom didn’t constitute an emergency. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from making the call. Listening while the phone rang, I wondered if I was doing the right thing when the call connected.

“Hi, Daddy.” A little girl giggled. “I found your phone.”

Looking at the phone, I said, “Hello?”

“You are not my daddy.”

“No, sweetie, I’m not. Can I speak with your daddy?”

“Brianna, Dad is going to be mad. Give me that phone!”

“NO!” the little girl screamed. “I talk to the lady!”

“DAD!” the other girl screeched loudly.

“What?” a gruff male voice groaned in the background.

“Bri has one of your phones and won’t give it back.”

“The nice lady talk to me, not you!”

“Brianna, give me the phone. Now,” her father sternly said.

“But, Daddy, the lady talk to me!” the little girl cried.

The next thing I heard was a firm, “Who the hell is this?”

Muttering, I whispered, “My name is Carly Mitchell. I’m looking for Shame. Is he there?”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Removing the phone from my ear, I looked at it to make sure I still had a connection. Placing it back to my ear, I muttered, “Hello. Are you still there?”

“Yes,” the man said. “Yes, I am.”

“Can I please speak with Shame?”

“Carly, my name is Christian Moreno. I know you don’t know me, but I need you to tell me where you are.”

“What?” I stiffened, looking around the apartment.

“Shame is dead.”

Quickly ending the call, I threw the phone on the couch as if it scalded me. Looking around the apartment, I didn’t know what to do. Shame told me to stay put until he could safely move us to a new location. The last time I spoke to him, he told me he was setting everything up.

But that was months ago.

Shit.

I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know who to call. Who to trust.

Rushing over to the apartment door, I made sure the deadbolts were in place when I heard the phone ringing. Spinning around, I stared at the phone on the couch before I slowly moved toward it. With a shaking hand, I picked it up, then flipped it open, automatically connecting the call.

Tentatively, I whispered, “Hello? Shame?”

“No, it’s me again,” the man from earlier said. “I apologize for being abrasive, and you were right to lock the apartment. There are several people looking for you.”

Looking around, I whispered, “How did you know I did that?”

“Because I am looking at you right now, Carly.”

“What?”

“Shame bugged your apartment so he could keep an eye on you. I’m holding his security pad right now. Look, Carly, I know you don’t know me, but I need you to tell me where you’re at.”

“I can’t do that,” I whispered, shaking my head. “He told me to stay put until he extracted me.”

“I’m your extraction, Carly. I’m the only way you survive.”

Saying nothing, I looked around the apartment, not knowing what to do. I could pack Drew up and leave, but to where?

“Carly, if it helps, I’m related to Reaper too.”

“I am not really related to him.”

“What do you mean?” the man whispered. “You are Carly Mitchell, the daughter of Sienna Craven and Issac Mitchell, right?”

“Yes and no.”

“It can’t be both, Carly. Either you are or you’re not.”

“Sienna and Issac raised me, but they are not my biological parents.”

“Who are your parents, Carly?”

“I can’t tell you. That’s why Shame was protecting me. He knew the truth about me.”

“Who?”

God, I was so tired of all the lies. Maybe if I just laid everything out on the table and let the chips fall where they lay, I could finally get some rest. I was tired of running, tired of hiding, mainly just tired of pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

“I’m Lucas Keller and Solomon Goldman’s half-sister. My dad is Shane Keller. He married my mom, Angela Craven Goldman, to protect her after she gave birth to twins. Only, she learned the truth about William Doherty and what he did to her older sister, Elizabeth. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she wanted nothing to do with me. She tried to abort me. That’s when her niece, Sienna, offered to raise me herself.”

“And by doing so, the head of the Society not only had a direct descendant to pass the mantle to, but a blood link to the Golden Skulls. The very organization the Golden Skulls wanted to destroy.”

“Yes.”

“Where are you? I need to get you out of this city.”

“I’m in apartment 405, Davenport Tower.”

“That sneaky son of a bitch. You are right below me,” he cursed. “Carly, pack a bag and meet me in the lobby. I need to get my girls ready. Pack light. Only what you need.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Chuckling, I sat on the couch and muttered, “You don’t get it. There is no such place.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know the perfect place.”

“Where?”

“I’m taking you to your brother.”

Standing in the lobby with a backpack on my back and Drew next to me, I’d managed to shove everything I needed into two suitcases. Though, one case contained all my research and Mother’s files. No way in hell was I leaving those behind.

“Where are we going, Mom?”

“Tennessee, I think.”

Drew shrugged, turning his attention back to his Nintendo Switch.

Looking at my watch, I was about to call Christian when the elevator doors opened and two very rambunctious girls ran into the lobby, followed by the very man I remembered talking to at Halloween in Central Park. Loaded down with bags, strollers, a playpen, and with a small toddler strapped to his chest, the man looked harried as he grunted, removing all his belongings while he tried to keep the elevator door open.

“Andi, come help me,” he groaned, reaching for a bag.

“Can’t, Daddy!” a little girl with dark hair shouted while she chased her little sister around the lobby.

Showing the man some mercy, I walked over and held the door open for him. “You said to pack light.”

Turning to look at me, the man gave me a megawatt smile and said, “Carly?”

“The one and only.” I smirked, reaching for a bag and asking, “Do you really need all this stuff?”

“It’s the girls’. My bag is on my back.”

Looking at everything, I started sifting through the multitude of items, throwing the playpen, the swing, and the stroller off to the side.

“What’s in this bag?” I asked, holding it up.

“Uh, books and toys for the girls.”

Shaking my head, I whistled, getting his daughters’ attention. “Girls, please come over here for a minute.”

Within seconds, both girls ran over and stood waiting.

Opening the case, I said, “Alright, young ladies. You can have two items. Only pick what you absolutely can’t live without.”

The girls looked in the bag and quickly grabbed the items they wanted.

“How did you do that?” Christian asked, astounded. “I said the same damn thing, and the next thing I know, I had to sit on that case to close it.”

“It’s called positive parenting. Giving a child boundaries but allowing them to make their own decisions. Works on Drew all the time.”

“Drew?”

“My son,” I said, looking over near the lobby desk to where Drew was still playing his game.

Standing, Christian furrowed his brows as he stared at my son and whispered, “You are full of surprises, aren’t you? He’s the spitting image of his father. Do they know?”

Stiffening, I slowly stared at the man but said nothing.

Shaking his head, Christian groaned and headed for the lobby door, muttering something incoherent under his breath.