Page 1 of Searching for Hope

chapter one

BERKLEY

For the first time since my arrival, I’m leaving the Sanctuary. Barrett is driving. Jericho and I are sitting in the back. We’re dressed formally, him in a black suit, and me in a white evening gown that cuts low in the front and slits high up my left thigh. I’ve got a black velvet choker around my neck. It has a silver ring that sits near the base of my throat. In Jericho’s pocket is the clip and leash that attaches to it. We’ve got a role to play. I keep fiddling with the clasp, small sparks of excitement shooting through me every time my fingers brush over the cold metal.

Jericho is pressed to the other side of the vehicle as though I’m contagious and he doesn’t want to get too close. He stares out the window, his mood pensive and silent. Barrett keeps glancing in the rear vision mirror as though waiting for a signal or watching if someone is following us. No one is. We haven’t seen another set of lights on the road since we left. Now that I know where my father is—locked in Jericho’s basement—my paranoia has faded. But obviously Barrett’s hasn’t.

Jericho clears his throat but keeps his gaze locked on the window. “You understand what we’re heading into, don’t you?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Jericho has already explained at length what I should expect. He’s also told me many times he doesn’t want me to come. So I don’t answer.

“Berkley?” he barks my name gruffly and when I turn, he’s looking at me, eyes blazing.

I sigh. “Yes, I know what to expect.”

“And you know how to behave? Some of these people are dangerous. They’re not the sort of people—”

I place my hand on his knee. He forgets I was raised in this world, even if I didn’t know it at the time. No matter how evil, how perverted these people are, they are still people. “I’ve got it. I’ll be fine. You forget I’ve been in this world before.”

Jericho’s eyes narrow and fall to where my hand rests on his knee. They darken, any of the blue that’s usually present fading to ink. He swallows, his eyes move back to mine and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips.

It’s the first time we’ve touched since Gideon walked in on us. It’s been weeks of torture. Jericho keeps away from me as though I’m carrying the plague and I long for him as though he’s the only cure. I thought it would be different. I thought we might explore the connection that so clearly exists between us, but Jericho has been cold and distant. After I promised to help him, I’ve been free to wander around the estate. At first he was wary, getting Barrett to trail after me like a lost puppy. But I didn’t try to leave. I don’t want to. I want to help Jericho exact revenge. I want to help him find Hope. Maybe then, some of the guilt I carry for the sins of my family will fade.

We’d tried fooling my father, Jericho pretending to hold me hostage, me pretending to be hurt and scared. I told Jericho it wouldn’t work, that he never truly cared for anyone but himself, but Jericho needed to see it for himself. Only then did he admit I was right. Now my father is rotting away in his cell. I watch him through the cameras but I don’t feel one ounce of pity for him. He’s got food, water, a blanket. It’s more than he deserves. He still insists he doesn’t know who Hope was sold to. But I don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. He’s a monster. And monsters lie.

Jericho shifts his knee, dislodging my hand. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“So you keep saying.” I adjust my skirt, moving it so my thigh isn’t so exposed, and shuffle closer to my side of the car. “But how can I help if you won’t let me do anything? Do you expect me to sit in my room like a damsel in distress? I can do that just fine on my own.”

Jericho turns slowly, his mouth set in a firm line. This is the way it’s been between us for days now. Jericho holding himself back, gruff and firm, and me taunting him, trying to get a reaction other than indifference.

“And how do you think you’re going to be able to help? I don’t even know what to expect at this gathering.” He lets out a snort of annoyance. “It’s part of the job, the unknown, and I’m just not comfortable with bringing you into situations I’m uncertain of.”

“Sorry you’re feeling uncomfortable.” The way I say it makes me sound every bit as young as he keeps accusing me of being. I clear my throat, attempting to get rid of the whine. “I might know someone. I have my contacts, you know.”

“So you keep saying.” There’s a small smirk on his face as he repeats the same words I had used earlier.

“If you’d just let me—”

“No.”

My heart skips a beat at his tone. It’s a stupid response, one that I’m yet to understand, but the more assertive and commanding he is, the faster my heart beats and the more my blood quickens. It’s a physical reaction I can’t help.

Jericho’s mouth dances over my flesh, teasing and taunting but never touching the place I want it the most. “Please,” I beg, my hands wound into his hair. He lifts his eyes. They are as dark as the night sky.

“No,” he growls, lowering his mouth back to my flesh and continuing the torment.

I sneak a glance at him. Luckily, he’s looking out the window again so I can study him in peace and he can’t see the flush to my cheeks. The man makes me ache. It’s tangible and real. I barely fight the flashes anymore; in fact, I welcome them. Because they are the only times that he’s mine.

Each time I look at him, my mouth goes dry and my hands get a little sweaty. Each time he talks, I tremble at the low gravel of his voice. Each time he looks at me, my brain malfunctions, confusing my attraction for anxiety. Admittedly, the symptoms are similar. Tightness in my chest. Shortness of breath. Heart palpitations. Racing thoughts. Restlessness.

The memory of when he succumbed to our attraction still haunts me. I wake in the middle of the night with need so exquisite it hurts. Sometimes I wander the passageways of the Sanctuary hoping he’ll come find me, but he never does.

So I turn my eyes away from him because it causes too much pain. The lights of the city glow over the rise of the next hill. I sit up a little straighter, eager to see them. They are warm and inviting after such a long time away. So much has happened it feels like an eternity has passed. I keep my eyes fixed on the lights as they get closer and closer. Eventually, instead of a constant glow, they become spots, each individual, until finally, we are passing below them as they illuminate the streets.

Jericho leans forward, talking to Barrett. “Turn here. I need to make a stop first.”

The streetlights become less and less frequent as we travel into the more dubious part of the city. There are women lined along the streets, cars pulled over, the occupants talking to the women, plumes of smoke and vapors casting an eerie glow under the lights.

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