Marry Screw Kill(45)

“Do you have any idea where the key is?” I reach through the bars and bring Harlow close to me. Her body appears limp and her eyes are starting to flutter. I have seconds before she goes unconscious in my hands.

“You,” she mumbles, “have the key.” Her eyes shutter closed. I lift my head and yell into the smoky air. She’ll die if I don’t get her out of this cage. Hell, we’ll both die, because I’ll never leave her.

I dig into my pocket to pull out a keychain. The only thing I feel is a long piece of metal. I bring it into view and realize it’s a skeleton key—perfect for a padlock.

I lay Harlow back down on the floor and release her. I scoot toward the lock and place the key inside the hole. After a few turns, it springs open and I reach inside the cage to drag Harlow from the smoke and flames.

I carry her outside and collapse on the damp grass. The coolness soothes away the heat from my skin. I move a piece of golden hair from Harlow’s face and will her to wake up. Her eyes flutter like before, and then she opens them wide to stare right into my mine. Her intense gaze brings me some relief.

“You’re okay?”

“Yes, because you saved me.” I bury my head in her golden spun hair as my body racks with violent shivers. I could have lost her, but she’s safe now. I draw her closer into me as a lone tear trickles down my cheek.

“Harlow.” I lift my head to see James standing in front of me, shouting. His eyes are like the flames burning the house—angry and consuming.

I continue to hold Harlow under the scrutiny of his evil stare. Then, I hear distant sirens in the night air …

I awake to the sound of the alarm on my phone wailing from the nightstand. My heart races and I can almost smell the stench of smoke in the air. A clammy sweat breaks out over my body and I try to tell myself it was just a silly dream. I get up from the bed, shuffle into the bathroom, and glance at myself in the mirror.

I look like shit. My eyes are bloodshot and dark circles mar the skin underneath. I splash some cold water on my face in hopes of reviving myself. It helps some, but I can’t shake that damn dream. Deep down inside, I believe Harlow lives in a cage and her world is about to burn down around her.

Leaving James needs to be her choice alone. She has been bullied enough by a man. I want her to own her future, and that starts with owning the decision to walk out of James’ door. All she has to do is ask me, and I’m there for her. I’m hers. Hers. I’ve never allowed any woman to own this much of my heart before.

In the dream, I was willing to give up my life for her. Risk it all because she was worth it. Now, I need to convince her she is.

The house seems so quiet this morning. I’m used to the horns and traffic from the streets below my apartment in Manhattan, so the silence seems strange. I pad over to the window and see the sun shining on fields for miles. There’s nothing but a red barn on the skyline. I’m far away from the bright lights and tall buildings of the big city.

After a quick shower to help me wake up, I run through emails and texts on my phone. Bentley sent me a shot of him with some silicone-enhanced brunette as they sat on my couch. My dream likely pegged what he did last night. At least they were clothed when he snapped the pic. Bets are their clothes came off later.

Next is a text from my sweet and persistent grandmother. Nina wants me to call her this morning. I can’t remember the last time she texted, so I push her number to see what she wants.

“Sinclair,” she says, an edge to her voice—one that tells me she needs to discuss more than the weather.

“Good morning, Grandma. Everything okay?” I decide not to bait her. She has a way of getting to the point without direction.

“I don’t have any patience, as you know, and wanted you to tell me how things are with James. You’ve met his fiancée, right?”

I exhale a deep breath and try to think of what to say. Nina always sees through me, so I might as well tell her the truth, no matter how ugly.

“Oh, is it that bad?” she asks.

“Why do you say that?” I sit on the bed and pull my fingers through my wet hair. This isn’t going to be easy and I’m putting off the evitable.

“You sighed into the phone and went silent. I knew she was bad news.” I can imagine her eyes squinting in disgust, but she’s so far off base in her judgment. James is the disgusting one. But how do I tell her that?

“This is hard, Grandma. Really hard. Has Uncle James ever brought a woman home to visit you?” I’ve never heard her mention James and a woman. She would talk only about his accomplishments at The Clinic. His personal life was never discussed. I have an idea why now.

“No, but I don’t understand what this has to do with the trollop,” she huffs.

“Harlow isn’t like that at all. Sure, she’s really young, but she’s also really sweet and kind—the furthest thing from a gold-digger. They met at the hospital the night her mother was murdered. He came to her. She didn’t seek him out.”

“I don’t understand. Her mother was killed? But what does this have to do with James?” I hear her frustration and I wish I knew the answer, too.

“I don’t know yet. But please keep your mind open. I have to be honest. Uncle James is very controlling and possessive.” I skip the parts where he crosses the border into completely crazy by hardly ever letting her leave the house. I also fail to mention that I’ve encouraged Harlow to leave James.