Killing Mary Jane: A Dark Romantic Thriller Read online

  Her mouth tensed. Her stomach dropped. This was not a life she’d chosen. Even if she couldn’t remember who she was before, she’d never want this life.

  She hoped that her past wasn’t plagued with something that would warrant this karma.

  This bad karma.

  But then a tiny voice within her brain begged her to ask Jake how he could save her . . .

  Jake spoke the very words she grew anxious over, saying, “I would save you. I’d come up with a plan, but you’ll just keep forgetting.” His teeth gritted in frustration. “We’ve gotta get you to stop forgetting,” Jake mumbled, more to himself than her.

  “Come with me,” she murmured, deciding that bargaining with the devil was just as good as living with a slew of demons. “Save us both.”

  Jake shook his head. “Nah, darlin’, ain’t no saving me. This is hell. I love hell.”

  1

  Dylan Wulf had a linebacker’s body squeezed into the space of a full-sized bed. His broad shoulders that engulfed much of the space and muscular, long limbs that draped over the edge. To make matters worse, he’d fallen asleep wearing his steel-toe boots. The Samoan gave a hard grunt as he lurched himself into a seated position. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. The old him would’ve had a rigid plan for the day. Saving the world started better with a clean-cut and shaven face. All of that didn’t matter now.

  Not here.

  Dylan Wulf had already condemned himself straight to hell. He hated it, but he deserved it.

  “Yeah, you made up for being a punk. Climbed the ladder of the LAPD, lived a respected life, then you shot it all down. Bang. Bang,” he mumbled the reminder, while rubbing the tension at the back of his neck. “Now, here goes another day in hell.”

  Wulf arose from bed. In half of a stride, Wulf was at the dresser. He picked up his badge for the Santo Cruces Police Department. He’d traded in a position as head of the Gang Unit in Los Angeles to a small-town police department in Arizona. He tossed it back onto the dresser and decided to at least take a shower before heading out. Just as he started to turn around, his cell phone vibrated on the countertop.

  There could only be one of three people calling him. His adoptive mother, adoptive sister, or…

  He glanced at the screen. It was his old partner from the LAPD.

  “You on your way home?” Quincy spoke as soon as he answered.

  “You are aware that I have a nine-to-five, right?”

  “Good ol’ Dylan Wulf, by the book. How many DV situations can one tiny ass town have?”

  He tried to add a little give a damn to his tone while asking, “Hey, Quincy, how’s it going?”

  “Dylan, what are you doing with yourself? You saved lives. You took badass little kids out of gangs before they could jump in graves. You cleaned streets. Now, you’re arguing with saggy-tit Dixie about pressing charges after toothless Bubba knocks the stank from her mouth.”

  “Ha,” Wulf replied sarcastically. He glanced around. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and even the dim light couldn’t shield how awful of a home he’d made for himself here. Really, he could’ve just called in to work and hit the road. There was no action in Santo Cruces City. No lives to save, no people to help. Just domestic violence situations like Quincy had joked about—and the dreaded paperwork that accompanied them. “Not funny.”

  “Oh, so I’m not funny enough? I could do funny if I weren’t shaking in fear. Shelly’s just gotten off work, those nurse hours, and now she’s upstairs in our bedroom packing and repacking things for our trip.”

  “I talked to Shelly yesterday and told her I would be in there bright and earlier tomorrow morning to watch my nephews and baby niece.” He almost cracked a smile at the thought of kids and having a carefree life for a moment. “See what happens when you marry your partner’s adoptive sister?”

  “Shit, who you telling? Wait, Dylan, did you just call me your partner? So, you’re done sulking? Ready to come back home for good?”

  Wulf disregarded his question. “I've got a case of energy drinks. I’ll be there by morning, just like I promised, ready to entertain.”

  “For good?”

  “For a week. By the way, who goes on a Disney cruise without their kids?” Wulf asked, although he knew the answer very well. Shelly was a Minnie Mouse junkie, and her argument was that their children hadn’t acquired a taste for Disney yet. But he knew very well, once the kids showed interest, they’d all be going on Disney cruises. His little sister would probably force him to go too.

  2

  The sun was a blistering orb of lava in a cloudless sky. All around her was tumbleweed after tumbleweed. She glanced at the man near the sliding glass door of the gas station.

  Have I lost my mind? He can’t be talking to me?

  It would be just her luck if the guy with sun-kissed skin and dark curly hair was addressing her. But, he was just too handsome to be crazy. Again, she turned around to see a lonely highway. Then her eyes stopped, glued onto the luxury trailer parked in the last gas port.

  She gawked at the side of the trailer. A sleek, caramel-coated woman with dark brown hair dominated the scene in a hot-pink matching bra and panty set. The smoky paint of the woman’s captivating, glittery eyes complemented the airbrushed words, “The Petting Zoo.”

  “MJ, c’mon.” The man stepped off the curb and took her arm. “It’s too damn hot out here, and it ain’t even nine in the morning.”

  As if the heat didn’t already singe her skin enough, warmth crept up her cheeks. She quickly turned away from the trailer and looked forward. The hot guy placed a hand on her shoulder. His arms bulged, and the jeans that ripped across his athletic legs left nothing to the imagination.

  “Excuse me, uh—”

  “I’m Jake; you’re Mary Jane,” he replied. The left side of his lips turned upward. “C’mon, MJ, now is not the time. I need you to remember. You had to take that damn medication, which is fucking with your mind even more. I know it set our plan back, but, baby, you’ve gotta remember something.”

  I’m Mary Jane? I know you?

  “Let’s get you a drink of water and aspirin, hopefully, it counteracts the shit Beasley gives you. So come with me, darling. Don’t look back.”

  He was easy on the eyes, except for the scar traveling down his chiseled cheekbone toward a strong chin. They walked through the door of the gas station convenience store, and Jake’s hand engulfed hers. In her mind, she could hear him saying, “I haven’t felt anything in years, but I fucking hurt every time I see you here, in this shitty-ass Petting Zoo. I wanna save you. Once. And. For. All.”

  Jake’s warm and callused hand engulfed hers, his large fingers wove through her tinier ones, and she relaxed. They walked down the aisle lined with junk food on each side and stopped at a refrigerated display of drinks. When Jake opened the glass door, Mary Jane saw her reflection. She had the same plush lips as the sexy woman dominating the center billboard on the trailer. And the same sultry eyes—sans the makeup. A faint handprint at her neck made her gasp.

  “The Petting Zoo.” She mumbled the words scribbled on the side of the trailer outside, aware that hell had a physical location.

  “Forget about that place, MJ.” Jake tossed a few one-liter bottles of water into her hands.

  She jumped and fumbled with the last one.

  With quick hands, he helped her cradle them in her arms. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Jake, am I drunk?”

  “No, sweetheart. You don’t drink, smoke, nothing. You’re too good for that shit.” He winked at her.

  Mary Jane rubbed her head. “There’s something wrong with me.”

  He bit his lip and nodded. “We can’t talk here.”

  She followed him to the row with the medication and first-aid kits. He grabbed generic aspirin, then they made it toward the cash register. He tossed the bottle on the counter and tapped his hand rather impatiently.

  “Anything else?” the clerk stuttered, keeping his eyes averte
d to the countertop, while scanning the barcodes of her items.

  “Gimme a pack of cigarettes and a fifth of Jack.” Jake pulled a wallet out of his back pocket.

  The clerk scanned the extra items and slid everything over with a plastic bag as if he didn’t want their business but was too afraid to say so. After a moment of awkward silence, the clerk asked, “Anything else, Jake?”

  “Do you want anything else, MJ?”

  She shook her head no. What else could she want? Why did it seem like Jake was stalling? It frustrated her to no end that she didn’t know what to want. There were words at the tip of her tongue. Questions to debate and ask, but Jake had just said they couldn’t chat here. She was now beginning to feel uncomfortable with herself.

  My mind is a crutch.

  “Mary-fuckin’-Jane, we don’t see you ’round town much!”

  They all turned toward the door as two men walked inside, wearing tattered jeans and wife beaters. The one who’d called her name had a cigarette carelessly held between thin, blistered lips. He pulled out his wallet. “MJ, how about a private dance?”

  Mary Jane’s eyes widened. She shook her head so hard her ponytail hit her neck with a hard sting. She didn’t want to go anywhere with the two men. Instinctively, she inched closer toward Jake, but the next step would have to be in his arms.

  “Y’all know Beasley doesn’t let MJ do any private dances without me or Lyle,” Jake interjected. “Gus is in the trailer. He’ll run snitching to Beasley. And y’all know the new girls don’t dance outside of The Petting Zoo.”

  “I won’t ever dance.” Mary Jane heard herself speaking.

  “We heard about how Beasley did you last night,” the man said, “let’s make you feel better.”

  She gasped as the man tossed a few dollars at her feet.

  “Jake, there’s money in it for you too.” He pulled a few more twenties out of his pocket. “Gus won’t know. Beasley won’t know. It seems to me that Lyle ain’t around either.”

  “Well, all right then. Let’s take this party to the back,” Jake replied. He glared at the clerk. “Do you mind?”

  The clerk, looking more afraid than Mary Jane, shook his head no then turned around to rearrange a liquor case.

  “Jake, please don’t,” Mary Jane whispered. She gripped the plastic bag, taking quick uneven breaths.

  “Don’t worry, MJ,” Jake whispered low so the men couldn’t hear. The warmth of his minty, liquored mouth began to settle her nerves. “I’d never hurt you. Beasley doesn’t let me leave a place with you unless another one of the men are around. Gus is on the bus. Remember the plan. These idiots are your diversion.”

  “I don’t remember,” she quickly murmured.

  As they started toward the back, a heaviness clutched around her heart with each step. They walked down an aisle of canned goods as he whispered something about a car and luggage in the trunk.

  Jake opened a door with a sign reading, “Staff Only.” She gulped as he flicked the lights on. The tiny storage room held cardboard boxes. A moldy mop hanging on the wall dripped into a yellow bucket. Stepping inside, Mary Jane sneezed and looked at the men as they shut the door. Their leering glances crawled over her skin.

  “Y’all are in for a treat.” Jake grinned. He winked at her when she gulped.

  “Don’t I know it.” The other guy clapped his hands to his knees. “That little taste we got at The Petting Zoo ain’t do nothing but piss me off—”

  Before Mary Jane could blink, she saw perfect holes between the eyes of each man. The sound of gunfire made her ears ring. She turned wide-eyed toward Jake as he lowered a nine-millimeter to his side. The bag with the aspirin and water bottles fell from her hands onto the floor.

  “Now, you have to go, MJ. Fuck these dead rednecks.”

  Jake pushed her toward the back door. She tripped over an empty crate. He hoisted Mary Jane under her arms, helping her reclaim an even stance.

  “Take these keys. There’s an ’86 Corolla right outside with a stack of cash under the dash. Get into it and get the hell out of town. Don’t look back. Not even for me, sweetheart. Go. Now!”

  She took the keys thrust into her hand. At the sound of gunfire coming from the front of the store, she ran out the back door.

  As the door was closing, she heard Jake say, “MJ shot them and escaped.”

  Mary Jane ducked, gunshots popping off behind her. Keeping a hurried pace, she sprinted toward a gray, box-shaped four-door. It wasn’t locked. She slid onto a matted seat. Hands shaking, it took a few attempts, but she finally got the key in the ignition.

  A bullet blazed through the back window. The glass shattered, spraying the passenger headrest. Specks of fluff clouded her vision after a few slugs went out the other side and into the dash. Glancing in the rearview window, she saw Jake with three other men. He was arguing with one, while the rest of them had guns pointed in her direction.

  With the engine sputtering and steering wheel shaking, Mary Jane ramped her foot onto the gas. The car bounced as it went over the sidewalk and off the curb. She jerked the wheel and turned down a one-lane highway. Joshua trees and cacti zipped by. The left tires hit a pothole. Two hands on the steering wheel, she worked hard to make sure it didn’t veer off the road. From the corner of her eye, she saw a piece of paper in the passenger seat. She grabbed it.

  “MJ, DO NOT go to the police station! Head NORTH. There’ll be more directions in the trunk, clothes, food.—Jake”

  Forcing out a deep breath, Mary Jane silently thanked Jake for saving her life.

  A glance through the rearview showed a red Ford-250 hot on her tail. With the long stretch of one-lane highway ahead, it was only a matter of time before they caught up to her. Her foot slammed down harder. The engine groaned in response and the car picked up speed.

  Her eyes connected to a sign ahead that indicated “North.” Mary Jane gave a psychotic chuckle. Her luck had changed—it was minuscule at best, but something. She was headed in the direction Jake had advised and away from the cops…

  Two girls walked down a residential street, out of place in the neighborhood with white picket fences and manicured lawns. With thick hair in ponytails, their clothes were so worn that the cotton felt like sandpaper against their skin.

  “The police are in front of uncle’s, again,” the younger one with two buck teeth said as they neared a three-level Victorian-style home. Her pace faltered. “I don’t want to go home.”

  The older sister took her hand. “Don’t worry. The police will help…”

  “. . . The police will help.” Pulled out of the image, Mary Jane’s body jolted forward. Before she could dissect that vivid memory, Jake’s sidekick rammed the back of the Corolla.

  Jarring her brain, the memory solidified the fact that she just had a premonition contradicting everything a man she hardly knew had told her. Jake had risked his life to free her. Mary Jane’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles tensing at the thought of having faith in herself and trusting a split-second memory. This feeling of not knowing a single thing about herself was like being buried with red-hot ants. C’mon, Mary Jane, you have to analyze everything. Don’t trust anyone.

  Her hands shook as she raked one through her hair, realizing that even trusting herself wasn’t wise. She’d need to second guess everything until her memories returned.

  Hopefully, they’d return.

  The truck was already catching up. Jake sat in the passenger seat, shaking his head in what appeared to be disappointment. The guy in the driver’s seat had a crazed look on his red-blistered face.

  Her heart stopped. Were they playing a game of chicken? Well, you’ve messed with the wrong girl. Mary Jane pressed harder on the gas, ready for a head-on collision. She was getting to the police station in this life or . . .

  Her chest slammed against the belt again as the truck rammed the back of the car. In an instant, she removed her foot from the gas and gave the brake a hard push. Mary Jane yanked the w
heel. “C’mon,” she growled, praying the car would stay on the road as she made a U-turn.

  As the truck sailed past her, still going North, Mary Jane’s eyes connected with Jake’s. Regret flooded over his gaze. She winced, heading South.

  The steering wheel shook as the Corolla’s engine caught back up to a steady ninety miles per hour. Mary Jane passed the gas station again, when the truck finally made a U-turn a few yards back.

  Up ahead was a sign displaying the direction to the police station. A half mile ahead, a sign at the Y in the road pointed to the police station. The car bounced over the dicey gravel as Mary Jane took the turn. A cinderblock building came into view with three police cars parked in front. Two officers stood just outside of the middle cruiser.

  She pressed harder on the gas and gave another glance in the mirror. The Ford missed the turn. The officers scattered when she didn’t appear to slow down. The car jumped the curb of the parking lot. In ample time, she pressed her foot on the brake but there was no traction because the Corolla continued at top speed.

  3

  Mary Jane’s jaw clenched in the teeth-chattering cold. Her brain boomed against her skull. She peeled her face away from the steel desk and sat up. Fuck. She glanced down at the chains around her wrists.

  “Good afternoon, Mary Jane.”

  “Mary Jane?” Again, she’d forgotten her name and everything else about herself due to the medication Jake was forced to give her this morning. She looked around, eyes stopping on her reflection in the one-sided mirror to see her tousled hair.

  “I read you your Miranda rights already. Maybe you were coming down from a high when you hit my cruiser. So here it goes again.”

  She blinked at the man. He was muscular and tall. His hair was chocolate brown, wavy, and shortly cropped. His skin was a deep golden brown which was a sign of some sort of islander heritage that coupled well with his beefy frame. His police uniform coasted over hard planes of muscle at his chest and thick-as-hell biceps. While she blinked, she imagined him on a sandy beach, surrounded by turquoise water, completing a hypnotic ritual dance which included herself ending up in bed with him for an all-weekend sexcapade.