Borden (Borden #1) (7 page)

BORDEN

With his forehead pressed against the glass, Borden stared out of the floor to ceiling window of his penthouse, overlooking the New Raven River. He tapped his gun against the glass as he watched the water sway. If he stared hard enough, he’d begin to feel the motion of it too. Pain skyrocketed through him as he tried to imagine a body in the darkness of the waters, floating with the current, swaying just as he was.

He put himself through this torture often. It was the only thing that really gave him any feeling at all. His world had turned black and grey, but the pain was like a shade of red every now and then. It gave him pain, and with pain there was the feeling of being human.

And that was the last thing he felt anymore. Human, that is. His life now operated on power, control, and business that had long lost its appeal. The adrenaline that had energized him before had now weaned into nonexistence. He was a void, playing a part he was no longer interested to play. He was suffering in the way a man who couldn’t feel anything positive could suffer. The emptiness was a curse. Karma had struck five years ago and the bitch remained since. And because Borden had nothing to lose, he didn’t give a fuck if the bitch won in the end.

He turned away from the window and set the gun back down on the coffee table in the lounge. It sat next to the opened briefcase, and Borden unaffectedly stared down at its contents, at the hundred dollar bills that took up every inch of its interior.

Money did nothing for him.

Numb.

Numb.

Numb.

That’s all he was.

And yet despite all that, his mind went back to one thing.

Emma Warne.

How was it possible that this had been the very same girl he’d rescued in that alleyway nine years ago? She looked exactly like her. No, she
was
her. The little alley cat with the switchblade. He remembered that girl like a picture inside his mind, and from time to time he’d revisited that memory, thinking of her jet black hair and haunted eyes.

She didn’t recognize him, and why would she? It’d been dark, and he was night and day the man he was back then, both physically and mentally. Death did that, though. When it struck, it changed parts of you forever.

“Emma Warne,” he whispered out loud, tasting the name on his tongue.

Hawke had passed along her address to him, so he knew the poor girl had no business being on this side of the city. She’d barely looked the part, anyway.

“Since when do we make sure these people make it home safely?” Hawke had asked him after he’d returned. “The bitch could have went back herself.”

“She could hardly walk,” Borden had replied in return. “She wouldn’t have made it far. Anyone would have taken advantage of her on her own, especially after we stripped her knife off her.”

“Who the fuck cares? Would actually serve us good if someone took care of her before we do. There’s no way she’s going to be silent about this, Borden. And we’ve got enough heat as it is with the fucking bikers on our case about the goddamn port. One mouth opening and the police are going to fuck our place up all over again. Hell, maybe I should go back and take care of her –”

“No,” Borden interrupted, feeling an irrational spike of anger flood through his system. “Don’t touch her.”

Hawke just stared at him questionably. “I don’t understand.”

“No questions.”

Hawke exhaled and left after that, no doubt confused as hell.

And now Borden was here, almost smiling as he remembered the look on her face when he’d interrogated her. There was an edge there beneath the surface, a hardness in her eyes, and he knew she had fought with every fibre of her being to suppress it.

Wise girl.

A knock sounded out, stirring him from his thoughts. He shut the briefcase and wandered to the front door. Opening it, he came face to face with a beautiful brunette wearing a white mini-dress. He looked her up and down, displeasure clear as day on his face. Another escort.

“The fuck you want?” he barked at her, though he already knew.

“The boys said you needed some relief,” responded the plaything, batting her eyelashes at him in what he assumed was her best attempt at being seductive.

Fuck, the girl was scrawny. He tilted his head and checked out her nonexistent hips, wondering how someone could think it was appropriate to gift him a Popsicle stick. He was used to escorts showing up like this. The boys were relentless in their endeavour to have him balls deep in a girl. But Borden was bored of them. Bored of the false look of need in their eyes, of the way they screamed in ecstasy when he fucked them – or tried to long ago – knowing for certain it was all a fucking façade to have their drug needs met after they were done.

Just fake. Everything about it was fake.

Fake, fucking fake, fake,
fake
.

“Let me give you a good time,” she continued, trying to convince him with another bat of her eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes and kicked open the door.

“You can try,” he replied, as she walked through the door.

She could try, but he knew already she’d fail.

Like all the others.

*

Always he dreamed of wading into that river, but in his nightmares, the water was red and tasted like blood.

Kate was always floating a distance away, her blonde hair swaying in all directions.

And always, no matter how hard and fast he swam, he never reached her. She kept drifting away into the red waters, in a river that never seemed to end, and he would exhaust himself, swimming until he couldn’t move at all, until his limbs ached and his vision spotted.

And always he felt that knife-like pain, a sadness that coiled itself around his heart and squeezed until there was nothing there. It was debilitating, this sadness, and it swallowed him whole.

Waking up was usually the hardest part, because he woke up feeling absolutely nothing at all.

Emma

I stayed on the couch most of the next day sleeping. Sundays were usually spent grocery shopping and having a catch up at my grandmother’s house. Not today. In hindsight, I must have looked quite pathetic cradling myself in the corner of the sofa, eyes wide open, wondering whether I was in a dream or whether I too had been strangled on the way home.

Why let me go, I wondered. Sure, I didn’t see anything, but he never asked me what I heard. And had he asked, would I have answered? I’m not sure what would have happened to me if I’d told him that bit of information.

These were criminals, very dangerous criminals. Not the kind you want to mess with or even sit next to at a charity event. You couldn’t smile at them. You couldn’t look at them. You couldn’t do a damn thing without risking being a target, and yet somehow I’d managed to escape them. And not just them per say, but the
king
of them.

Marcus Borden, aka the bloody king of New Raven, aka the one you couldn’t escape hearing about, was everywhere, in every corner of the city, out the lips of every resident, taking up space in some way or another. He owned multiple successful businesses, including the club I’d just been to. I just never expected him or any of his men to actually
be
there when I was.

However, despite the long list of businesses he owned, it was the port where he controlled shipments in and out of New Raven that was his crowning achievement. Ringleader Borden was the bread and butter, the one with the connections, the one calling the shots. After suspicions he was drug trafficking, the cops tried at him many times in the past few years – and you
always
heard about it in the newspapers – but he was deemed untouchable. There was never an ounce of evidence against him. Didn’t matter how many warrants with reasonable grounds to search him were conducted, they never found anything.

I’d seen his face in the papers every once in a while, but I had never been in such close proximity to him than last night. A poor girl like me had no place in his part of town. I’d felt grossly out of place at Owls too. Lara, a long-time friend of mine, had married a rich man and relocated to a penthouse in the heart of the city’s most wealthy estates. She was the one that dragged me out there. She was the one that convinced me I needed a break from all the hours I was working at the diner, that I needed to clear my head and enjoy some loud music and good company.

My supposed “good company” abandoned me in the middle of the club to dance with some douchebag who wasn’t her husband, leaving me to fend for myself against at least a dozen men with wandering hands. Close proximity with so many people I didn’t know had me feeling the normal anxiety I had in social situations I was uncomfortable in. I escaped to the nearest exit that happened to be the alleyway leading to the parking lot across the street. I only wanted a few minutes to myself to cool off. It was stuffy in there. I’d managed to go unnoticed and untouched; I wasn’t anything particularly impressive to look at, not among the rich girls with their plastic faces and fake tits, anyway.

I remember the crisp breeze I felt when I stepped out into the open air, loving the feeling of space and quiet. I had walked maybe four steps just as the door opened again, and I heard the screaming of a man and another threatening to shoot him. Frightened, I hid behind the last of the four bins fixed alongside the wall. It was pitch-black and there was no way I could reach out for help without being noticed. I didn’t attempt to take a look at what was going on. I was too scared of getting caught. I knew growing up in a rough neighbourhood that there are things a woman should not involve herself in, and a man getting attacked by a couple of men while you were unarmed was one of those things.

He was dragged a short distance away from where I hid.

“Please,” I heard him beg. “Give me another chance. I’ve got the money and I’ll pay up. I swear I’ll pay up!” He repeated this hysterically, but he wasn’t being listened to.

There was a short exchange of words from one man to another. “Finish it off,” said a deep voice. Then a large gasp erupted and I heard the sound of a man choking violently.

I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears. I felt like a child hiding in the corner believing all was okay if I pretended it was. I pressed my lips together, afraid to even breathe. I waited for what felt like minutes when a hand grabbed at my arm and roughly stood me up.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Before I could even respond, I was slammed against the brick wall and pain erupted from the back of my shoulders as it scratched the rough surface. The pain stunned me speechless, as though my brain had shut off. I couldn’t see much of the man in front of me except that he had long hair.

“Take her to Borden, Hawke,” said another voice from someone nearby. “She’s seen everything.”

I shook my head at the memory, trying to lure it out of my thoughts. I was alive. I was okay. Why think about it anymore? I’d survived bad shit in my short life, this was just another one of those times.

Yes, now calm the hell down.

To distract myself, I grabbed the remote control on the coffee table and turned on the television. I sat up and rested both feet down on the carpet and rubbed my hand over my sore stomach. I idly stared at the news and weather forecast, and slowly it lulled me into a light sleep.

A loud knock tore through the quiet, and I jumped, whipping my eyes open. My body shuddered and my heartbeat accelerated in my chest.

Who would come to my door?

Nobody
ever came to my door.

I stayed glued in that spot for a few moments, holding my breath. Maybe the person would go away if I didn’t respond. Maybe –

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Shit.

Feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, I slowly stood up and made my way to the door. Panicked, I wondered if it was them again, wondered if they were here to take me away.

Without a peephole, I had no way of knowing who it was. I took a few deep breaths trying to rid the nerves away and unlocked the door. Relief accompanied me at the sight of a tall police officer standing in the hallway. He was a young, brown haired man with concerned eyes. Relief immediately turned to confusion.
What is this?

“Emma Warne?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said anxiously.

“Police Department got a call from a resident in this apartment complex saying they were worried for your safety. A man escorted you home last night, is that right?”

I hesitantly nodded again.

“We were told that man is in league with Marcus Borden. Is that also right?”

“I was at one of his clubs,” I responded with instead. “I had no way of coming home.”

“I understand that, but I also know that it’s fairly unusual for Mr Borden to send someone home unless something happened. We’ve had some serious complaints in the past, and we know the last thing they can be is safe. Resident said they were unsure of whether the man followed you in or not, and that the apartment has been silent since.”

Yes, something happened!
I could see my inner being now, ripping her hair in frustration at my silence. I felt that side of me pushing for the truth to surface, but I suppressed it.

“Nothing happened,” I told him firmly. “I met him last night and he decided to send me home after learning I had no transportation back. If anything, he was being… gracious.”

Yeah, as gracious as a fucking murderer was.

“Gracious?” the officer repeated, staring at me sceptically for a long moment, studying my face.

Perhaps gracious was a long stretch.

His deep stare just added more to the nerves I was feeling. The last thing I wanted was trouble. If any of his men were out there now and watching a police officer enter the complex after last night, what might they think?

“So you’re completely fine? Nothing happened?” he asked, and it was almost painful listening to the level of concern in his voice.

“I’m completely fine,” I lied. “I had a long night and need some rest.”

Emma, you coward
.

“I appreciate the concern, Officer,” I added as a way to end the conversation.

He slowly nodded, looking completely unconvinced. I even caught him looking past me and into the apartment. “Do you mind if I go in and have a look around, Miss Warne?”

I frowned and replied firmly, “I do mind, actually.”

He looked back at me. “Just wanting to make sure is all.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

He sighed in defeat. “Alright, well, you have a good day then. If you remember anything or know anything, don’t hesitate to contact us immediately.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I closed the door quickly, holding my breath for a few moments. Just as I heard his footsteps fading to the elevator, I collapsed to the floor in relief.
Oh, thank God.
Then I wondered who on earth saw me last night and decided to call the police to check on my wellbeing. That person could have come seen me themselves if they were so worried. I couldn’t think of one person, though. I knew nobody in the building and they certainly made no effort in knowing me either in the last two years I lived here.

This doesn’t make sense.

Aside from that mystery, the rest of the day was uneventful. Out of my barren fridge, I forced three stuffed olives down my throat and made a nasty cheese sandwich that I could only finish half of. I had the shakes several times and I spent a lot of time glancing out my bedroom window, half-expecting one of Borden’s men to be standing there watching me. There never was, and I convinced myself I was getting overly paranoid.

But when it came to Marcus fucking Borden, was there such a thing as paranoid?

*

In the evening, I received a worried call from Granny who I was meant to visit earlier that day. “So everything is alright then?” she asked. Her voice sounded nasally and she was sniffing repeatedly.

“Yep, everything’s great,” I lied. “You sound awful though.”

“Just a flu. I must have caught it at the doctor’s on Friday – how about that, huh? Haven’t been anywhere else. Next time please call me and let me know if you’re not on your way. I made a lot of food for you to take, you know. I thought you were going to be here.”

“I’m sorry, Granny. I can come by tomorrow if you’d like. I finish work at six.”

“Yes, anytime tomorrow is fine, Emma. I don’t want to waste the food. I made you sausage rolls and a chicken casserole you can divide and freeze up.”

“I can’t wait to have it.”

“Why do you sound so down? You’re usually upbeat, darling.”

“I’ve just… had a rough day, you know.”

“Well, you look after yourself. Don’t let anybody walk all over you. Especially a man. You’re your own person.”

I blinked in surprise. Did she just assume I had an issue with a man? I guess she didn’t believe I’d been seriously single all these months, and it was pretty sad when your granny thinks you’re getting some and you’re really not.

“I won’t,” I promised her. “Don’t worry about me. Tell me what else I’ll be eating.”

She continued letting me know of all the foods she had made or was going to make me. She couldn’t stand the thought of me going hungry. She knew very well that my job wasn’t paying well enough to provide me with an entirely full stomach every day. Despite her having little money herself, she poured whatever she could into me. It was always appreciated, and I didn’t know what I would do without her. I knew tomorrow it was going to be an even longer day swinging by. It took over an hour catching two buses from work, but I missed her and felt guilty for having stood her up.

After the phone call I had a long bath, trying to again suppress the memories of the previous day. I was also highly upset that Lara – the bitch – hadn’t bothered to phone me to see how I’d gotten home.

“Last time I talk to you,” I mumbled under my breath, shaking my head angrily at the image of her smiling face.

I received a few eager texts from my best friend, Blythe, while I got ready for bed.

Blythe:
Sorry I haven’t got back 2 u. I got laaaaaaaaid last night. The man was an Adonis. Had a six pack. Was pretty creepy, like mafia-type creepy, but OMG drought is over and it was worth it. How was ur night out?! Give me the gossip and pleeeeease tell me u got lucky 2 xx

Me:
Congrats on getting laid. =D At least fortune smiled on one of us last night!!!

Blythe:
You don’t sound like ur normal self. Are you alright?

Me:
Splendid.

Blythe:
??

Me:
Lara flaked out on me. Used me as a way to get out of the house.

Blythe:
Bitch.

Me:
Definitely.

Blythe:
We should egg her fancy Ferrari.

Me:
It’s a Lamborghini actually.

Blythe:
Super bitch.

Me:
Tell me about it.

Blythe:
Well I would never use you, babe. If I see her face, I’ll stick a fork in her eye for you okay?