Page 1 of Unchained

CHAPTER 1

Emberly

The loud clap of thunder has me jumping. I look out the window right as the lightning lights up the night sky. It hasn’t rained this hard in months. Lord knows we desperately need it, but today is not the day to have to be out in this weather.

After today, I have a newfound appreciation for delivery drivers. I’m sure everyone’s ordering in on this dark and stormy night. And where I get to stay inside, tucked in my cozy pajamas, they’re still out driving around in this mess, struggling to see through their windshields, and getting drenched as they do their best to keep people’s food dry. I would’ve ordered my usual, but I just didn’t have the heart to do that to someone.

So instead of Chinese takeout, my dinner is a pint of Cherry Garcia, a dinner for champions. After the day I had at work, it sounds just about right. I knew I should’ve said no when Mike asked if I’d take the Morrisons around for their house showings. The very opinionated couple had me driving all over the city, trying to navigate through this terrible weather—and their rudeness. Meanwhile, Mike took one person over to the old Brinkley house then got to spend the afternoon at the country club playing poker since golfing was off the table. Lucky him.

What started out as the Morrisons wanting to see two listings, turned into eleven. Every house I took them in was gorgeous, yet Mrs. Morrison kept finding something wrong with it. Then, when I was taking them back to the office to retrieve their car, they told me that the very first house I showed them was the one. I seriously wanted to scream. Hours of driving back and forth across the city, trying not to get us killed in the downpour. My body drenched. Heels muddy and ruined. Nerves minced to pulp from having to listen to the snooty woman nitpick over flooring and paint colors, which can easily be changed. Only to find out we could’ve stopped after the very first house. The house that she didn’t want because she thought seven-thousand square feet wouldn’t be big enough for the two of them.

If I weren’t afraid of my neighbors reporting me to the leasing office, I’d scream. It seriously burns me up. I totally get that this is part of my job and that people have every right to see as many listings as they want, but usually you don’t do more than six in a day. Mainly because the agent needs time to set all the appointments up—and has other responsibilities to tend to. But Mike insisted that I keep going until they found the house they wanted. And now I know it’s because he didn’t want to have to deal with them himself.

I’m beginning to think my brother was right. Bryson said I’d be better off going out on my own and working for a big brand brokerage firm. He knew that in working for a boutique firm, all I’d be doing was the grunt work, which no one likes to do: putting up “For Sale” signs, hosting open houses, running obnoxious buyers around. Although, I have learned one thing from Mike: in order to get clients, all you have to do is join a country club and play poker and golf every day.

Another clap of thunder has me jumping again. I move to my sofa and click on the TV, turning the volume up in hopes that it will settle my nerves, but what I see on the screen is anything but settling.

“In breaking news, a violent prisoner has escaped from Landsom and is reported to be on the run. Trevor O’Malley, a convicted murderer sentenced to life without parole was last seen around seven this morning. Although it has not been confirmed, his escape is believed to have happened during the guards’ shift change. Police suspect that O’Malley was disguised as an officer, and that he may be armed. Video surveillance footage is being reviewed as the investigation continues. Authorities have warned that O’Malley is extremely dangerous and is not to be approached. If you see the man on the screen, you need to keep your distance and call the police. As we gather more information about the case, we’ll be bringing you further updates.”

Goosebumps form on my arms as his mugshot appears on the screen. His cold black eyes are void of emotion. There’s a scar running down one side of his neck, and tattoos running down the other. Even if I didn’t know he was a convicted killer, I’d be keeping my distance. It says on the screen he’s 6’5” with brown hair and a beard. The mugshot must be old, because he has a shaved head and no beard.

The sudden ringing of my phone has me yelping out in fear. I’m extra jumpy today. And the cold eyes staring at me through the television certainly aren’t helping. I shut the TV off, no longer wanting to see that haunting face. I’m not surprised to see my brother’s phone number lighting up my screen.

“Hey, I just saw the news. What’s going on?”

“That’s why I’m calling, sis. You need to make sure all your doors and windows are locked. Don’t let anyone in. And keep the mace I gave you right by your bed. This guy is dangerous. He’s a killer, Ems.”

I roll my eyes. It’s not like the guy is going to show up here at my apartment complex. The prison is over an hour away, so if the guy is on foot, he’s nowhere near the vicinity. Besides, he’s on the run, no doubt looking for somewhere secluded to hide. I may have the bottom floor apartment, but I’m surrounded by a hundred neighbors who would hear me screaming for help.

But Bryson is overprotective and has seen too much crime in his career, so of course he’s worried.

“Everything is locked, Bryce. Promise. So, how did this guy get out?” I’m guessing my brother knows more than what they’re saying on TV. They always seem to share minimum details to the public to ensure nothing important gets leaked.

“He accosted one of the officers that was doing cell searches. Stole his uniform and gun, along with his security card, which allowed him to get through the prison without being detected. Not sure why the officer was doing checks by himself, or how the fuck no one recognized O’Malley as he was going through security and walked right out the door. It clearly shows we have a major problem in the system. And as soon as he’s been caught, it’s going to be addressed. They need to have fucking eye scans to get in and out of that place.”

Wow, that’s so crazy. Anyone could’ve done that. It’s actually surprising that no one has ever attempted it before.

“Is the officer okay? The one who was attacked?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Has a black eye and was handcuffed and gagged but wasn’t killed, which is a damn relief. O’Malley has put men in comas.”

And here I was thinking I had a bad day at work.

“So, does that mean you’re on night shift tonight?” I’m sure they’ll be working him around the clock until this guy is caught.

“Yeah. I’m running the phone lines right now as we wait for leads to come in. Press release just broke so hoping we’ll get something soon. Of course it’s a damn fucking hurricane outside, so we weren’t able to use the dogs to pick up any scent, and setting up road blocks is near impossible. So right now, we’re just going on the hope that the fucker was seen in public or has made contact with someone, but it’s highly doubtful. I’m guessing he’ll lie low and bunker down for a few days. But listen, until he’s caught, I want you on alert at all times. You keep that mace with you, and you stay aware of your surroundings.”

Again, I roll my eyes. I highly doubt the man would be stupid enough to show up in my part of town. He’d stick out like a sore thumb and would be taken back to prison in no time. The houses in this ritzy little suburb all have security cameras—and owners who’ll call the cops if anyone even looks at their house the wrong way. The cops once showed up while I was putting up a “For Sale” sign because one of the neighbors thought I was a burglar “setting the stage for a break-in.” I couldn’t even believe it. Little ol’ me who’s all of 5’2” and 140 pounds, who was dressed in a skirt suit and heels, looked like I was going to break into a house. But apparently, the people hadn’t been informed by their neighbor that the house was going to be put on the market, so of course, they assumed I had malicious intent. Talk about a crazy day at work.

“I always have my mace on me, Bryce,” I tell him just so he’ll have peace of mind. “And I’ll make sure I stay in my vehicle until my client arrives for a showing.”

“You better. And if you have any troubles or see anything suspicious, let me know.”

I still don’t think this wanted convict is going to be coming anywhere near this part of town, but the last thing my brother needs to do right now is worry about me.

“I will, Bryson. Love you, and keep me updated.”

“I will. Love you too, sis.”