Page 24 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

She laughed.

They both laughed.

I’d give anything to hear that sound again.

Who knew that in the span of a decade, I’d have watched my mother’s body put down in a grave and shortly after, pulled my baby sister out of one, where she was dumped after her torturers had had their fun.

My mother was my old man’s fault, and I’d made the cocksucker pay.

Natalie was mine, though, and I’ve paid every day since that single moment when I blew my cover. When the men who’d come to trust me as their most valued assassin discovered my secret and why I’d really come to work for them.

To punish me, they punished my sister. They stole her laughter before eventually stealing her soul.

A fine mist coats my vision as I stare down at the vestiges of my past. I can’t do this to Dylan. I can’t put her in danger. Somewhere along the lines, she’s come to mean more to me than I care to admit. In some ways, my lifeline. She’s the tranquility to the raging storm inside of me, and I’ll suffer a brutal death before I let another man touch her.

To save my beautiful butterfly, I have to set her free.

14

Dylan

I hold up my cards, giving my best poker face, as Jörgen studies his hand. When I lay my hand down, his shoulders slump at the straight flush I’ve fanned out on the kitchen table. “What can I say? Beginner’s luck.”

I gather up all the coins, which are more of a status symbol than a lucrative win.

“I find that hard to believe,” he grumbles, sliding all the cards in front of him. “I deal this time.”

For the last few days that he’s been assigned to babysitting me, I’ve grown to like Everest. He’s moody and quiet, but cool. And he has a soft spot for babies, so I’ve learned from the many Facebook posts he shows me on his phone, most of which, feature ridiculously cute baby montages.

The door clicks at the same time my stomach flutters and on some sort of Ripley instinct, I straighten in my seat and pull my hair to the side, over my shoulder. A couple nights ago, after we’d gone at it on the kitchen counter, he confessed that my shoulders were an enticement for him—that he likes to kiss me there. So like a man-obsessed teenager, I make sure he’s constantly tempted.

As Jörgen sets up another round, I plaster on a smile and wait for Ripley to step into the kitchen. When he finally does, the sight of him sends up an alarm at the grim expression on his face.

“What is it?” I push up from the table, but when he throws his hand up, I stop, struck by a cold slap of rejection.

“Jörgen, can you give us a minute?”

I don’t like the bleak tone of his voice—one I’ve heard before when trust was on the line. “What’s going on, Ripley?”

Once Jörgen’s out of the room, Ripley’s gaze finally meets mine. He tosses something down on the table in front of me, and for a brief second, I think it’s going to be another accusation, so my temper flares in defense.

Until I look down.

Sat on the table top is a large manila envelope, from which the end of an object peeks out, and I can just make out Airlines. I slide it from the pouch to see it is, in fact, a plane ticket.

“North Carolina? I don’t understand.” I stuff my hand inside, patting around for a second ticket, and instead, pull a card. Not a card. A license. “Danielle Kingston?”

“You could sit across from an FBI agent and look legit with that ID. You’re a student. With a diploma and honors in mathematics. I have a contact who will help get you into any college you want down there.”

“That’s great … but … ”

“You’ll have a car. A place to stay on the ocean if you decide to put off enrollment for a bit. You’ll also have a sizable bank account, so you won’t have to work while in school.”

“And what about you?”

“You’ll be safe there,” he goes on, ignoring my question. “No one will find you. I’ll make sure of that.”

“How? Are you coming with me?”