“We have to.” I took off my shirt and stepped into the water. The cold water was already wanting me to step out and find another way.
“What about alligators?” Angel asked she didn’t follow me in.
I had to smile at that, “Sweetheart, there are no alligators here at all because of all the ships that come in, just little fish.” I pointed toward the port where ship after ship was already lined up. “Come on. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She took a few steps into the water, “Are you sure we can make it?”
“Yes, Angel, I promise we will make it. All you have to do is hold on.” I sank further into the dirty water, and the sting of the water against my still captive manhood caused me to groan out in pain. I would figure out a way to get this chastity trap off, but I didn’t have time for that to slow me down now.
I sank into the water and waited for Angel to latch herself onto my back. The sound was bigger than I thought it was. I swam until it felt like my lungs would burst, but I knew I couldn’t give up. I simply turned over and floated to let my body relax, letting Angel lay on top of me. Then probably two hours later, I began to feel mud under my feet. We’d made it to the other side. I near collapsed when I finally began to walk on dry land. I was so tired, but I knew we couldn’t stop yet. All the shops were still closed as it was still the middle of the night or very early morning, I couldn’t tell. I pulled on doors to see if any of them were unlocked, I didn’t want to break the windows, and the police get called. I was praying for one of them to have been forgotten. I got to the back door of one of the shops I didn’t recognize, and thankfully the door to the cellar was open. I looked over to Angel only to see her little blue eyes sliding shut and her fighting to keep them open, she was as exhausted as I.
I slowly walked down the steps and into the small basement, it was cluttered with a few tarps, lots of canvases, paint, and other artist supplies. It must be a hobby or craft store. I didn’t know this place when I was here before, but it would do for the night. We could rest. I grabbed one of the tarps and laid it in one of the corners. I stacked up a few empty boxes and canvases, so if someone were to look downstairs, it wouldn’t be obvious there were people here.
“Come on. We can rest here, okay.” I wanted to take Angel’s wet clothes off, but she had nothing else to put on.
“Okay.” She slurred and stumbled to the floor. I bunched the tarp up around her as much as I could before I laid down behind her, and used another tarp to cover me. I cuddled her close to my body to share my body heat with her. The store wasn’t freezing, but the water we’d just swam through had soaked clear through to our bones.
The boxes and cans of paint in front of us hid us, but if they were moved, we would be caught. Unfortunately, it was the best I could do. I laid my head down on my arm, and I quickly drifted off into the first deep sleep I’d had in a long time. My first night sleeping as a free man in four years.
Chapter 7- Jazmine POV
Jazmine POV
“Oh, my goodness! Thank you so much! You have no idea how much I needed this.” I took the large cup of coffee out of Parker’s hand and brought it up to my nose. Parker owned one of the best coffee shops in the state hands down, but it was out here on the pier, so he was getting very little traffic. I kept telling him he would make a killing in town, but he said he needed the water. I understood that. It was one of the reasons I bought a small shop at the end of a shipping pier. The water was tranquil and peaceful. A far cry from what my life was just a few short months ago.
“I would need it too if I worked as late as you do and still managed to get here at the ass crack of dawn.” He laughed and wiped down his tabletop.
“Oh, you know my muse only speaks to me at sunrise.” I winked at him and raised the coffee filled paper cup in his direction as I turned to walk over to my shop. I had a wonderful idea for the next project I wanted to work on. It was burning in my mind all night, and I couldn’t wait to get here and get my brush on the canvas. I was an artist. It wasn’t something I went to school for or even something I’d been doing all my life, but art had saved me in every way a person could be saved.
My father and brother were high up in the drug world. For most of my life, my brother was the head soldier and my father, well, he was a kingpin. Any drugs in our town came through him. We had stacks of cash, cars, and everyone wanted to be close to him. He was a man of power who wasn’t afraid to do whatever it took to keep it. I watched him kill a man who had the nerve to show up five minutes late to whatever meeting they were having. Disrespect in his eyes was never tolerated, no matter how small the offense.
When I was a young child, I
