Stay (28 page)

“Good. You looked awful.” Her eyes flicked to Rochelle, who was still busy unclipping her hair extensions. “Jackson’s alive,” she said quietly.

I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face. “I know.”

Lily whirled around. “How do you know?”

Shit.
Was I not supposed to know? “He brought me food,” I said quickly.

“Oh,” Lily said and shook her head. “I forgot he does that. I thought I could like see spirits or something. I was so sure he was dead.”

“Me too. He really did get shot.”

Lily’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”
 

I nodded. Lily scrunched her face and looked down. I knew she was internally battling the truth versus whatever the hell she had been brainwashed with.
 

“He wouldn’t have gotten shot if he did what he was told,” she said and sounded just like Rochelle.
 

I didn’t want to argue. I knew there was no point. I just nodded and rolled over on the lumpy mattress, wondering how many years of therapy it would take to fix Lily and Rochelle.

I pulled the quilt over my head and listened to Rochelle talk to Lily. Lily told Rochelle that she was tired of working so much. Rochelle abruptly changed the subject and told Lily that her clients loved her. She was a lot more obvious than Zane in her attempt to manipulate, but she was getting good. About an hour later, Rochelle finally shut up.

My headache was feeling more and more like a migraine again. I needed to sleep it off. I forced my eyes shut and focused on taking slow, steady breaths while thinking about Jackson until I drifted to sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I WAS WARM, almost to the point of being hot. I pushed the old quilt back, enjoying the coldness of the basement that for the first time all winter. Then my eyes flew open. Why wasn’t I cold? I sat up and noticed that a thick fleece blanket had been draped over me. I ran my fingers over the blue fabric and smiled.
 

A plate of buttered toast, apple slices, and three sausage patties sat was waiting for me, along with a glass of milk. I grabbed it and devoured the sausage. It was slightly warmer than room temperature. I must have just missed Jackson. I looked around the room. Rochelle and Lily were gone, and Phoebe was still asleep.

I put the empty plate down, the ceramic clinking against the cement floor. Then I saw something sticking out from under the blue blanket. I pulled it back and found a black hooded sweatshirt. It was oddly folded with the sleeves tied together, creating a strange ball of material. I picked it up and realized something was tucked inside.

A smile immediately pulled up my face. I slowly opened the book. The binding was cracked, and the edges of the cover were worn from being read over and over. I closed it and ran my fingers over the title.
 

“Gone with the Wind,” I whispered and smiled again. I pushed my pillow against the wall, wrapped the blue fleece blanket around my shoulders, and opened the book. I read each line as slow as I possibly could, savoring every second of reading I was able to get.

I was so enthralled in the story that I didn’t hear Phoebe get up until she coughed. I jerked my attention away from the book. Phoebe staggered out of bed, her gait unsteady.

“Phoebe?” I asked and set the book down. I slid it under my pillow just in case. “Are you okay?”

“Kho
ẻ
, c
ả
m
ơ
n,” she said in her native language.

“What?”
 

She repeated herself, looking confused as to why I wasn’t responding.
 

“English, please,” I said. My voice shook. Phoebe’s olive complexion was pale, with large blotches on her cheeks and hands. She had deep bags under her eyes, and her lips were chapped.

I got up and rushed over to her side. “You probably have what I had,” I said, though deep down I knew it was more than a mild case of the flu. “I’ll tell Jackson. He’ll bring you something.”

Phoebe coughed again and put her hand out, needing help. Her skin was hot to the touch. I led her to the shower and turned on the water. She sank down on the stool in front of the vanity. I grabbed a rag, held it under the icy water, and wrung it out.

“This should help,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice calm. I placed it on the back of her neck. “You need to drink lots of fluids too. Once the fever goes down you’ll feel better. I did.”

She just nodded and rested her head in her hands. After she went to the bathroom and took a fast shower, I tucked her back into bed and brought her a banana.
 

“If you run,” she began and peeled the banana, “find my family. Tell them truth.”

“I won’t have to. You’ll tell them because you’ll run too.”

“Too tired to run,” she mumbled.

“Today,” I said and tried to convince myself it was true. “Today you are.” I shook my head. “And I don’t have a good plan yet. I need to figure out how to take this damn ankle bracelet off without causing the alarm to sound.”

“Yes,” she said and ate the banana. She said she was tired and laid down again.
 

I paced around the basement for a few minutes wanting to stretch my tight muscles. Being curled up in bed feeling sick caused my legs and back to become quite sore.
 

Satisfied that I stretched enough, I went back to my cot and slid
Gone with the Wind
out from under my pillow. I read another ten pages before the basement door opened. I shoved the book under the pillow so fast it bent the pages.

“It’s me,” Jackson said.
 

“Good,” I breathed. A smile immediately pulled up my lips. My heart swelled, and I wanted to be close to him, feeling his heart beat next to mine. “Phoebe’s sick.”

“I noticed.” He hurried down the stairs. “When I picked her up I could tell. She’s not herself.”
 

“Will Nate let her go to a doctor?”

Jackson cast his eyes down. He knew something, and he didn’t want to tell me. He walked over and stopped by the cot, sitting next to me. I scooted over to him, my heart speeding up at the touch of his skin. He slipped his fingers through mine and gently tugged my arm in his direction. I let my body fall and rested my head on his shoulder.
 

“What aren’t you telling me?” He heavily sighed and let go of my hand to shyly wrap his arm around me. His fingers hovered above my waist, waiting to see if I’d object before he placed his hand on me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, not wanting Jackson to tell me bad news anymore. I just wanted to sit like this.
 

“I told Nate she was sick.” He shook his head.

“And?” I asked, apprehension growing.

“He said that she was easy to replace. H-he doesn’t care. I’m sorry, Addie.”

“It’s not your fault,” I reminded him. We sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to Phoebe’s ragged breathing. “Thanks for the blanket and the book.”
 

Jackson’s hold on me tightened. “You’re welcome.”

I twisted toward him, looping my arm around his. “Can you stay down here with me?”

“I can.” He moved my hair over my shoulder. “For just a few minutes though. Nate is in the shower.” He looked up at the pipes that snaked along the ceiling. “You can tell when the water shuts off.”

“I kinda picked up on that,” I said with a yawn.

“Tired?”

“A little. I still feel kinda sick,” I admitted.

“Do you want to lie down? I can leave.”

“No,” I blurted. “I don’t want you to go.”

Jackson smiled. “Then I’ll stay.” He lifted his hand, extended it towards me, pulled it back, and then reached out again. His fingers were shaking when he put his hand on my back. Fear jolted through me as I got a flash of a client shoving his hand down the back of my pants. I took a steadying breath, reminding myself I was with Jackson, not a client.

I closed my eyes and put my head against his chest, listening to his heart beat. I remembered what he had said about being too old for clients. Did that mean he had been raped too? I hooked my other hand on his shoulder, turning into him.

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” His breath was warm on the back of my neck.
 

“Yes,” I answered and opened my eyes to look at Phoebe. “And not being able to do anything just makes it worse.”

“It does,” he agreed and hugged me tighter. His lips brushed against my skin and it didn’t abhor me. I felt safe, like nothing bad could touch me when Jackson was holding me.
 
“I wish I could make her better.” He sighed. “I wish I could make
all
of this better.” He cautiously tightened the hug. I got a flash of the day Rosie died, remembered the instant comfort his embrace brought me. I pulled him a little closer to me, feeling his pulse bound through is body.

My heart began to beat a little faster. I loosened my grip on Jackson and looked up, bringing my face to his. He bent his head down until our noses touched.
 

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispered.

I put my hand over the bullet wound. “I know.”

He rested his forehead against mine. One hand gently cupped my face while the other moved to the small of my back, bringing me closer. He paused, making sure it wasn’t too much for me.

I curled my fingers, balling his shirt in my hand. “Jackson,” I breathed. I felt so deeply for him right then. Everything he’d been through … we’d been through … everything he risked for me. Tears welled in my eyes and my face broke.

“Adeline,” he whispered back, wiping away a renegade tear with his thumb. “Don’t cry. I promise, somehow it’ll be okay. Somehow, some way I’ll get you out of here.”

I just nodded, unable to help the tears that kept coming. I blinked them away, watching as they fell onto Jackson’s shirt. I took in a shaky breath and looked into Jackson’s eyes. He held my gaze, looking past the hurt and fear, past the damage until he saw me, the real me.

He closed his eyes and kissed me, his lips gently pressing against mine. Warmth flowed through me as his kiss not only touched my lips but my soul. It was right then that I knew I needed him, that we needed each other. I leaned forward, opening my mouth just a little. I could feel Jackson’s heart race as he held me close.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked, pulling away a few inches

“Yes,” I whispered and put my hand over his chest, feeling his fast pulse. “I am sure. Is it for you?”

Jackson smiled. “Yes.”
 

My chest tightened. “I hope you don’t get sick from me,” I told him.

“It’d be worth it,” he said with a smile. He put his arms back around me and leaned against the wall. I relaxed against him.
 

The pipe rattled from the shower shutting off.
 

We sat up. My brow furrowed as I looked at Jackson. He put his hand on my cheek. “I wish I could stay with you,” he whispered.

I wrapped my hands around his shoulders. “Me too.” I closed my eyes and tipped my head up to see into his eyes. “You should go before you get caught.”

“I should.” His lips brushed against mine as he spoke, and he made no attempt to leave.

“Jackson,” I whispered. “Go. Before you get in trouble.” I had yet to release him from my embrace. He nodded again and stood, his hands lingering on mine before he walked across the basement.

“I’ll set medicine for Phoebe on the top step,” he said quietly and hurried to the base of the stairs. He grabbed the railing and put one foot on the first stair. “I’ll come back when I can.”

I gave him a small smile. “I know.”
 

I looked at the spot where he had just stood, heart aching already.

***

Several hours passed before the door opened. I knew right away it wasn’t Jackson. I stashed the book under my pillow and waited for Nate to walk down the steps. His eyes scanned the dim room.

“Where is the China girl? She was supposed to be ready ten minutes ago.”

“She’s from Vietnam,” I told him. Nate glared at me. “She’s in bed because she’s sick.” I gathered my strength and stood. “She needs to see a doctor.” I turned around, waving my hand at Phoebe. “All she needs is some antibiotics and she’ll be good as new.”

“Get her up,” Nate said calmly and looked at his gold watch. “Now.”

“Phoebe,” I said gently, turning to her cot. “Pheebs, wake up.”

Phoebe groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes.
 

Nate wrinkled his nose. “She looks awful. You’ll do,” he said to me. “Run a comb through your hair and come here.”
 

I swallowed hard and didn’t move.
 

“Now,” Nate repeated. When I stood in the same spot, he crossed the basement. I knew he would hit me, but I didn’t care.

My heart skipped a beat when he walked passed me. He stopped next to Phoebe’s cot and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head up. Phoebe cried out in pain.
 

“Now.” He twisted his fingers.
 

Shaking with fear, I scurried to the vanity and picked up a brush. I raked it through my tangled hair as quickly as I could. I set it down and turned to Nate.
 

“Get dressed.”
 

I hurried to the dresser and put on a pair of shiny leggings, black boots, and a body-hugging red dress.
 

“Go upstairs,” he said and didn’t let go of Phoebe until I was halfway up the stairs.

Zane was at the top of the stairs. He grabbed my wrist and ushered me into his black Camaro after getting a warning from Nate not to let me be seen. Just when I wondered why he was even letting me leave the house, Nate said this was a long standing and trusted client who wouldn’t turn him in. I madly looked around for Jackson but didn’t see him anywhere.
 

Zane seemed bored as soon as we left the driveway. He plugged in his iPod and scrolled through his playlist, swerving each time he took his eyes off the road. I held onto the seat, digging my fingers into the leather, and tried to convince myself that getting into an accident could actually work in my favor.

Zane didn’t so much as look at me on the drive into Davenport. My heart raced with excited nerves. I was out of the house and in the city again. Could this be my chance? I could run, scream, do anything to make a fuss and get noticed.