Blackness Awaits Read online

  “Sure,” he says in a shrug. He stands up and brushes off his jeans. “You gonna play in that dress?”

  “Mother makes me wear dresses every day. I have shorts on under. Come on,” I say pulling him by the hand toward my yard. He interlaces our fingers and takes the lead. When we get to my bat, glove, and bag of balls, he smiles at my gear.

  “You wanna hit first?” I ask politely pulling my hand away from him.

  “Nah, you go ahead.” He moves out to the middle of the yard with my glove to shag the balls I’m going to hit. He’s not out far enough, but I don’t tell him that. I toss a ball high and crack it sending it soaring well beyond him. He watches the ball sail past before turning back to look at me.

  “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen that can hit a ball that far out,” he yells back at me with a huge almost proud smile. I beam back at him. I don’t care that he thinks I’m pretty. He thinks I can hit the ball far. “What’s your name?”

  “Shanny,” I respond. I don’t know why I told him that. Only my daddy calls me Shanny.

  “I’m Nick,” he yells throwing the ball back toward me. I catch it bare handed ignoring the sting.

  “Move back Nicky. I’m just gettin’ warmed up,” I tease. He shakes his head at me with a broad grin before moving back.

  “Please explain this to me. I feel like I’m goin’ insane,” I plead.

  “That was the best five hours of my life, playin’ with you. I never forgot that day. I can remember every single detail of it,” Nicky says softly. His voice is slightly gravelly and deep, not a little boy anymore. “I was there that day with my uncle, Vito Mancini. I barely spent time with him when I was a kid but my mom was sick that day or something so he took me out with him.”

  “Nicky, this is not helpin’ me understand why you’re here. Did you do this to me?” Please don’t let him be some crazy ass stalker.

  “Fuck no! How could you think that?” He goes to drop my hand, but I cling to it. If he didn’t do this then he can get me out of here.

  “I’m freaked, hurt, tired and confused. Please just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

  “It’s a long story and we don’t have a lot of time before the rest of the team gets back. My name is Nick Scarso. I’m an enforcer in the Mancini Crime Family. My job is to extract information from people quickly.”

  I pull my hand free from his and turn my gaze to the water. The bathroom door opens quickly snapping my head back into place swiftly and every feature on Nicky’s face changes. He looks like the demon only more petrifying. I cower down into the water further.

  “Scar,” the man (who I can’t see because Nicky is blocking my view) at the door calls tentatively. “What happened to Tony?”

  Nicky stands up slowly, his hands are shaking at his sides as he turns to face our visitor.

  “What happened to Tony is about to happen to you. He got in my fuckin’ way. Clean it up!” Nicky’s voice is raw and powerful. The authority he exudes is totalitarian. I’m officially fucked. They’ve sent someone to torture me that knows me. Okay an afternoon of playing with a kid doesn’t make him an expert in my life, but he knows me. He’s not here to rescue me. He’s here to get this done faster.

  “Sure boss,” the man relents softly. “You need at hand puttin’ her under. Tony said she’s a handful.”

  “If I ever need help with a buck ten bitch, fuckin’ put a bullet in my head. Get that goddamn mess cleaned up,” Nicky growls and the man scurries away.

  I ease my gaze back to the water and wait. He’s going to use this water to torture me. Apparently he’s confident in his ability to hold me under water on his own. Uncle Mick never did water torture training. I’ll have to use my skills from other things to make it through this. He did some water escape training with me the last few summers before I moved to Chicago. He sunk a car in the pond out on his land and made me swim down to it, buckle myself in, wait as long as I could and then release myself. Scary right? I can do this. Uncle Mick made sure.

  Feel the burn in your lungs? It means you’re alive, Shannon. Stay alive and you can do anything. Only death will stop you.

  Nicky is standing staring at the empty doorway, continuing to block my view. I can hear a lot of movement outside the bathroom though. Moving a body is loud business it would seem. I take the time to focus my mind, concentrate on my breathing. My pulse is even and I begin to take long deep belly breaths, oxygenating my lungs. I won’t have long to do this but every little bit will help. I should have kept up the training Uncle Mick put me through. I’ve kept constant with weapons and fighting but not other things, certainly not water escape. I can hear his voice in my head so clearly since I’ve been here. It’s like he’s with me.

  Deep…long…breaths. That’s it Shannon. Try four minutes this time.

  I did the four minutes, got up to four and a half. No way can I hold my breath that long now. I keep taking deep breaths to the rhythm of Uncle Mick’s voice. I’m focused.

  “Shanny, look at me,” Nicky’s command brings me out of my own head. I don’t comply. If he’s here to torture information from me, I’m not going to be helpful.

  “Scar,” the same guy from before calls from the doorway. “Boss is on the phone for ya.” The guy sounds winded. Carrying dead weight will do that I suppose. I keep breathing long deep breaths.

  “Gotta move her,” Nicky’s voice is strained and rough. I don’t look at him. I don’t panic.

  “I’ll watch her for ya. You’re not done in here yet, right?” There’s a long pause in the conversation and I keep breathing. He’s going to leave me with this guy. Nicky strides to the door swiftly.

  “Don’t fuckin’ touch her. I don’t want my dick goin’ anywhere near where your’s been.” Nicky’s threat is menacing and then he’s gone. I’m naked, in a bathtub, alone with yet another demon. I keep breathing, deeper than I was. I feel no pain in my back or head, just air in and out.

  “Shame really. I’m easier on pussy than Scar is,” the man says with a laugh. Comforting.

  I don’t look at him or respond. I can feel myself detaching from my body. My mind is steeling itself in a cage within a cage. Survival is the only goal. I don’t panic.

  Shannon

  “Maybe I’ll getcha after Scar,” the man taunts. “I’ve heard he’s a bigger fan of ass than pussy, so I’ll workout whatever he doesn’t.”

  I no longer have drugs in my system so I feel the familiar Shannon Kelly simmering under the surface. I’m still taking deep breaths and steeling my mind, but fuck if I don’t want to drown this motherfucker. If he would just get a little closer…I could get him. Even weak I could take him. He’s short and skinny, looks young too. I have only glanced at him from my peripherals…yeah I could take him. He takes a step closer to me and I stop taking deep breaths, focusing completely on his movement. I wait for him to touch me. If I can get his wrist, he’s mine. Here the fuckwad comes.

  He leans over, stretches his hand out, and dips it into the water. He’s headed toward my crotch based on his trajectory. I bend my knees so it appears I’m being more accommodating. I still haven’t looked at the guy’s face. I’m watching his arms. Then he makes his grave mistake. He removes the hand that was supporting his weight on the edge of the tub to push up the sleeve of the arm snaking toward my body. I lash out reaching both of my arms around the back of his neck shoving him face first into the water between my bent knees. He has no leverage with his legs to heave himself out. I hold down his head and shoulders with my right leg. My left leg is under his body so I lock my ankles together over and under his body and squeeze. This isn’t the way I constrict around the boys when I’m playing, this is strength I didn’t know I possessed coursing through my muscles.

  The man is thrashing and kicking trying to get his legs hitched the right way. He’s pushing off the bottom and side of the tub with his arms but their slipping and sliding. I’ve got him. He’s not going anywhere. I maintain pressure as bubbles surface and his fight
wanes. This is not a scary movie, I don’t let go when I think he’s dead. I wait and wait and wait, then I check his pulse keeping my legs still around him. No pulse. I killed him. Releasing the pressure I push his lifeless body down to the end of the tub with my feet.

  Then I turn my head off to the side, over the edge of the tub and puke. I just killed another human being because he was trying to touch me. I should feel guilty or sad or angry…I’m numb. When I’ve finished emptying my already empty stomach I lay my head back and wait for whatever is to come next. Whatever blackness awaits me I’ll be ready.

  Kellerman

  I’m functioning. That’s all I’m doing at this point. Kid’s been gone over twenty-seven hours and we’ve made no progress in finding her. We haven’t run out of files yet, but we’re looking through lesser likely options now. I refused to get up and eat dinner with everyone else that’s on my “shift” so Mary brought my plate out to my research spot (gifting me with a scowl of disapproval before she left). It’s not like this is social hour for any of them either, I just have less to offer than they do.

  I have (or maybe had) relationships with Cal, O’Sullivan, Kav, Finn and Aidan. I’ve been getting to know everyone else a little here and there before this shitstorm landed. I don’t have anyone to depend on in my life. I’ve been on my own since my dad died. My mom took off when I was still in diapers. She came in and out of my life off and on until I was a teenager, haven’t heard from her since. It honestly doesn’t bug me. She wasn’t cut out to be a mom, not her thing. Dad more than made up for her absence. I’ve got aunts, uncles and cousins dotted around the country but no tight relationships. Being up in Seattle and the Bering Sea, family didn’t much concern me. While my dad was still alive he and I were really close and I had a small group of friends (other fisherman), I was good with that.

  Everything changed in my life after Kathy and Mia. Before that, I was really social, huge group of friends. I partied a lot and didn’t pay much attention to things that mattered. I know I was young (classic excuse), but I was selfish and egocentric. When we lost Kathy and Mia, a switch flipped in me. None of my “friends” came to check on me, not even a phone call. I was at the hospital with my dad for days and he was the only person that cared how I was doing. After living in the same place my whole life, with a shit ton of friends, I was shocked how alone I felt. So I took off. I ran as far away as I could, trying to escape the guilt I felt and trying to become a different man.

  I’m not sure I succeeded at becoming a different man. Here I am, closing myself off just like last time. I miss my dad so much right now. He didn’t try to make me stay in Kansas City; he got my move at the time. I needed that space to heal. Dad let me have the distance in miles but our connection never faltered, we talked all the time. He got me through the grief and the pain that I felt. If he were here, Dad would help me get through this.

  When the guys flipped on me in the pool house it felt familiar. They made no consideration for me and took Taylor’s word (and half naked pictures) as fact. It looked bad, shit it was bad, but they should have talked to me. So I’m acting like a spoiled little bitch and pouting about it. I also don’t have the energy to put into the necessary conversations; everything is going to Kid right now. That’s all I can do.

  I feel the pressure of a hand on my shoulder pulling me out of my pity party for one. I look up to see Mr. Kavanagh standing there with a soft look on his face. I pop one earbud out.

  “You’re still at it?” he asks the unnecessary question. I nod briefly before moving to get back at it. He pulls a chair up next to me stopping my progression toward isolation.

  “You’re pissed at the guys.” It’s a statement not a question.

  “I’m fine,” I respond coolly.

  “You’re a shit liar, Dylan.”

  “Mr. Kavanagh I really am fine. I just wanna find Kid.”

  “We all want that. You’re strugglin’ with more than that though. Aaron told me,” he says softly. Thanks Kav. Now I have to deal with Kid’s family knowing about my possible paternity issues. Clusterfuck is the kindest term I can think of to describe my current life circumstances.

  “I’m not thinkin’ about anything other than Kid right now, sir. I’ll deal with everything else once we have her home.”

  He lifts his chin at me catching that I really don’t want to think, much less talk, about this right now.

  “You need any help. When the time comes, I’m all ears,” he says sympathetically before standing and moving to his spot at our research area. I push my earbud back in (Metallica) and focus on the file in front of me. That was nice of him to say…maybe I’ll take him up on that offer.

  Kavanagh

  My pop just walked away from the zombie that is Dylan Kellerman. He’s getting worse if that’s even possible. We’re all wrecked, emotionally drained, pissed…you name it, we’ve got it going on. Kellerman has us all beat though, and he won’t let anyone near him to try to help him. We’re all shut out.

  “He talk to anyone yet?” O’Sullivan asks as he claps me on the shoulder and motions toward Kellerman.

  “Just said about ten words to Pop.”

  “Shit’s on us, huh?”

  “I don’t fuckin’ know, man. We’re all a mess but him…it’s different.” I shrug and watch Kellerman methodically read, mark and set aside case file after case file. He could have a career in this…if that’s a career.

  “Think she’s okay?” O’Sullivan whispers.

  “No,” I whisper back. “She’s not okay.” He sucks in a breath at my brutal honesty.

  “I don’t get it. Kid wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he huffs. I quirk an eyebrow at him and we both grin. “Okay. She would hurt, kill and maim but only out of necessity. She doesn’t hurt anyone that doesn’t have it comin’. She fights for the people that can’t. I don’t get it.”

  “This has to be about somethin’ from Chicago. It can’t be firm related, right?” He nods his agreement. “So then we got two options. It’s from when she was a little girl, which seems unlikely, or it’s from undergrad.” I shoot O’Sullivan a knowing glance.

  “Liam and Brendan? Why though, man? After all this time who would do this and have the resources to pull it off?” he questions rapid fire.

  “I’m just talkin’. I’ve got no more answers than you. But I feel less and less confident the answers about who took Kid are in those fuckin’ files. I think they may be in our past.”

  “Let’s get the guys together and talk this through. If this is really about that night and what we did…we gotta do somethin’ about it,” he finishes turning on his heel to find our brothers.

  If someone took Kid because of what we did to Liam and Brendan she’s already dead (my stomach lurches at the thought). I can’t figure out what Mancini would want with that though. If Liam sold drugs for Mancini back then it was small time. Why would he come after her now? Christ nothing makes a damn bit of sense! Every time I feel like I’m finding answers…I end up with more questions. More damn questions and no Kid.

  Shannon

  “Shanny?” I hear Nicky’s voice in the distance. I peel my eyes open to find him hovering over my body concern bleeding from his eyes.

  “I’m cold,” I croak. I must have fallen asleep after committing murder. Parasympathetic nervous system must have kicked into overdrive and made me tired (I paid attention in biology). The dead body is still slumped over the end of the tub. I feel nothing when I look at it.

  “Let’s get you outta here,” Nicky says softly. He has a towel draped over his arms like you would for a baby that he easily scoops me into. Now that the adrenaline is gone I feel every movement, every fiber of the towel. The pain causes me to shake more than I already was from the cold.

  “I’ve got you,” he soothes into my hair as he carries me back into my torture chamber. I look down the hall quickly to see if I can find an exit, but all I find is the world’s longest white hall with no visible exits. Perfect!

  Nicky lay
s me on my side and I immediately roll to my stomach to remove any possibility of my wounds touching the mattress. Nicky moves around the room a bit as I keep my face cradled in my arms face down.

  “I’m gonna treat these wounds now, Shanny,” Nicky’s voice is still soft and smooth. I thought he’d be mad I killed that guy, but he killed one too so maybe he’s not attached to these people.

  He starts putting something goopy on my legs first working his way up, I tense and yelp.

  “Sorry.”

  How can a man be slitting the throat of a torturous demon one second and a soothing caretaker the next? He works his way up to my ass where the majority of the damage is. I squeal when he gets to the deeper ones.

  “SSShhhhh,” he soothes as he moves over them. I want to be soothed but all I am is on alert for the next beating or inevitable rape. I do get quiet though. He finishes on my lower back and stands up off the bed. I feel a large sheet-like fabric draped over my back, he smoothes it gently over my wounds.

  “You’ll be more comfortable now.” I hear him sit in the metal chair next to my bed. There’s tension in the room so I wait for whatever he’s got planned for me.

  “What happened in the bathroom?” Nicky’s voice is choked with emotion. I turn to look into his face and I see sorrow. Why’s he sad? Did I kill his brother or something? That would just be my luck right about now.

  “He told me it was a shame you wouldn’t let him rape me because he’s easier on pussy than you are. Then he remembered you’re more into anal than pussy so he figured he’d take whatever you left. He came over to the bathtub and tried to touch me. I touched him instead,” I explain clinically.

  Nicky runs his hand through his unruly hair just like Finn does. I bet Finn is bald by now from the stress of trying to find me.