Wrenching Fate

W
RENCHIN
G
F
ATE

BRIDES OF PROPHECY

Copyright © 2014 by Brooklyn Ann

Cover design by Danae Ayusso

Graphics by Kent Butler

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems— except in the form of limited quotations or reviews— without permission in writing from the author.

The characters, except for the cars and cat, and events are fictitious and are used fictitiously. Any similarities to any real persons, living or dead, are coincidental and not intended by the author.

Published by Broken Angels, an imprint by Brooklyn Smith

http://brooklynann.blogspot.com

[email protected]

Dedicated to Karen Ann

6~11~62 – 2~14 ~09

You were the best mom that I could ever wish for.

I’ll never stop missing you.

Thanks for believing in me.

Coeur d’Alene, Idaho

Akasha Hope had one foot out the window and on the roof when there was a knock at her bedroom door.

“Damn it,” she muttered and hid her smokes before admitting the group home director.

Mrs. Kenzie smiled tightly. “You’ve been assigned a legal guardian,” her keeper announced calmly as if relating the menu for tonight’s dinner rather than ripping the rug from under Akasha’s feet.

“What?” She couldn’t have been more surprised if the woman had stripped and danced naked around the room.

Though most residents of
Bright Future
were sent to foster care within months, Akasha had been a permanent resident since the cops found her wandering on the shoulder of Highway 95 three years ago. Besides the deterrent of her questionable age and foul mouth, she’d acquired a juvenile record of smoking, drinking and breaking curfew. Akasha encouraged her portrayal as “unfit for adoption.” Though her state assigned identification declared that she was seventeen, Akasha was really almost twenty and soon on her way to abandoning this pseudo childhood.

At last she’d managed to get into what Idaho residents called the “dual enrollment” program, simultaneously earning college and high school credits at the North Idaho College campus. Not only did that get her out of the demeaning, oppressive environment at the high school, it was also her first step towards getting a business degree and opening up her own automotive repair business. Now Mrs. Kenzie was telling her that some asshole was going to ruin her plans.

“Why the fuck did they assign me a guardian?” she practically growled.

Mrs. Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Your caseworker didn’t say. And it’s too late to argue. Your guardian’s on his way to pick you up so you better pack now.”

“Hold on.” Akasha stopped the woman. “Which of the ‘shoppers’ was it?” A few men stared at her when they visited over the years. Their gazes were far from parental.

“None. The man declined to come at visiting hours.” The group home director snorted. “If he had, I think he would’ve thought better of his choice when hearing your smart mouth. Still, one would assume your file would be enough to deter any prospects.” Mrs. Kenzie gave her one last derisive look before striding out of the room, nose so high in the air it was a wonder she could see where she was going.

Akasha sank on the bed, her mind reeling from shock and her body quivering with fury.
How dare this son of a bitch fuck things up for me!
The nicotine craving became too much. She scrambled out the attic window and onto the roof. Taking out her pack of Camels, she lit up with a growl.

A bright orange harvest moon rose in the cloudy sky, glimmering molten gold on the orange leaves of maple trees lining the street. Her mind raced as she smoked.
Why the hell would someone waste time and money on paperwork to be my legal guardian for less than a year?

There were only three possible options.

One: a charity case. It’d hurt her pride but she could deal.

Two: slave labor. She worked her ass off in the group home anyway.

Three: her so-called guardian wanted a sex toy. She rotated her ankle, smiling as she felt the reassuring weight of the knife in her boot. The bastard would be in for a surprise if he thought it’d be easy.

Akasha crushed out the cigarette and slipped the butt under a loose shingle before climbing back to the window. The wood frame cracked under her grip.

“Fuck.” She hadn’t lost control of her unusual strength in a while. Akasha grinned bitterly.
This asshole has no idea what he’s getting into.

After maneuvering the damaged window closed, it took all of two minutes to pack. She only had four changes of clothes, her school stuff, and seven books. One backpack, one duffel bag. That was it. That was her life.

Mrs. Kenzie opened the door and sniffed the air. “You were smoking again.”

Akasha gave her best poker face and threw on her leather biker jacket.

“Oh well, it’s not my problem anymore.” Mrs. Kenzie grabbed the duffel bag off the bed. “He’s here, so let’s get going.”

Akasha swept a last glance across her small attic room. Would she miss it here? It was frigid in the winter, sweltering in the summer, and as stifling as a cage. However, the room had been her home for almost three years and it was better than most places she’d slept in. What lay ahead was unknown.
Who the hell is this guy?

He had to have some clout to gain guardianship over her, which implied no one would help her if he turned out to be a sicko. If things went bad, she’d be back on the streets with no hopes of a high school diploma or getting into college.

As she followed Mrs. Kenzie down the stairs and to her future, Akasha wondered how much negotiating had gone on and how much money had changed hands behind her back.

The man waiting for her in the parlor wasn’t what she expected. For one thing he looked younger than the other prospective foster parents. For another, he was
gorgeous
. His long straight hair, blacker than hers, framed a perfectly chiseled face. And his green eyes…
holy crap
. Like twin arc welders, they bored a hole through her.

With heated cheeks, Akasha dropped her gaze to his tailored black clothes then looked down at her ripped jeans and faded shirt, resisting the urge to pat down curls more messed up than the wiring harness of a jerry-rigged Pontiac. She drew herself up to her full height of five-three to meet his eyes once more.

He extended his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Akasha.” His deep, slightly accented voice gave her a strange shiver. “I am Silas McNaught.”

Power radiated from every inch of him. When Akasha was on the streets, she’d seen drug dealers and pimps who seemed to exude supremacy, but none had come close to the absolute authority which this man wore like a mantle.
Was it just his obvious wealth, or was it more?

Taking pains not to squeeze too hard, she shook his hand. She was so torn between rage and confusion that she didn’t know whether to punch him in the throat or demand an explanation for his intrusion into her life.

McNaught’s eyes widened. “You have a very firm handshake.”

If only you knew I could crush your hand with the slightest effort.
Akasha suppressed a glare. If she did, she’d be thrown in jail, or worse. A memory of armed, uniformed men chasing her superimposed itself over her vision. She shook it off with a shudder.

The man seemed to sense her frustration. “I’ll take your bags if you are ready.”

Her hostility depleted slightly by his politeness. Akasha followed her new guardian out into the night, wondering why he chose to get her this late in the evening.

All thoughts ceased when she saw his car.

“Holy
shit
!” she gasped. “Is that a ’68 Barracuda?"

McNaught nodded. On light feet she ran to the car, forgetting that her backpack was supposed to be heavy. The gleaming black convertible was one of the most magnificent things she’d ever seen.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed reverently. “What’s it got under the hood? Is it a 318, 440, slant 6?”

“I don’t know.”

She gaped at him.
How the hell could he not know which engine this beauty had?
Why did he buy it without knowing? He had the decency to look ashamed as he unlocked the trunk and put her bags in.

Her eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure as she heard the engine start and he
pulled out of the parking lot, heading north on Government Way. As Akasha silently struggled to absorb the shock of her new situation, the only sounds were the purr of the ‘Cud
a
it sounded like a 440… maybe even a 38
3
and the crunch of dead leaves under the tires. She opened her mouth to ask him why he had taken her, and flinched when her stomach growled.

“You didn’t have dinner,” he accused.

Damn, it starts already.
“Nope.”

He whipped the car left, oblivious to the honking horns. “We will have to get you something.” He turned on Appleway, A.K.A., ‘fast-food alley.’ “What would you like?”

“Um… McDonald’s is cool.” She tried not to sound too excited at the prospect. It would be humiliating if he knew she hadn’t been to a McDonald’s in over three years.

Her belly rumbled again when she smelled the deep-fried goodness in the drive-thru. She ordered two Big Macs, large fries and a root beer. He ordered nothing.

“Don’t like fast food?” she asked.
He probably thought his rich ass was too good for it.

“I dined earlier.” McNaught’s tone was unreadable.

He paid and handed her the steaming bag. She salivated and hoped for a short drive.

“Go ahead,” he said as he pulled back on the street.

Akasha’s gaze whipped over to him in shock. “Are you kidding? You don’t eat in a car like this! Do
you?
”

He chuckled. “No, but as you are my charge, I think I will put your needs above those of my automobile.”

Not knowing what to say to that, she shrugged. “Well… maybe I’ll just eat my fries.”

They tasted better than she remembered and were gone by the time he turned onto Cherry Hill Road. McNaught had to downshift to second gear
to continue up the steep incline. As the road curved, Akasha saw many huge houses.
Crazy rich people.
This road’s gotta be deadly when it’s icy.

When they reached the top, Mr. McNaught took out a remote, opening wrought iron gates surrounding…a castle. It was a no-shit, honest-to-God castle, made of stone and complete with turrets.

“Here we are,” her guardian said with a wry smile as she gaped.

They parked in the biggest garage she’d ever seen. It could fit four cars with room to spare for toolboxes and engine stands. When she got out she noticed how freakishly clean and unused it was. It smelled like fresh paint, not
garage.

He unloaded her bags and led her inside.

Her new home was modern on the inside and screamed luxury with its hardwood flooring and plush carpets reeking of austere newness. Despite the gleaming mahogany furnishings topped with objẻts d’art and expensive paintings on the walls it seemed like no one lived here.

He led Akasha into a dining room with a table that could seat twenty, complete with a humongous chandelier glittering overhead. Her sack of Big Macs was out of place on it. Hell,
she
was out of place here.

“What do you think so far?” Mr. McNaught asked. His voice had a slight lilt, almost musical. Where was he from?

“Um… it’s very… fancy,” she said.

He gave her a look as if he knew that wasn’t really a compliment. “You may eat while I get your things. Then we shall talk and I’ll tell you what to expect.”

She nodded and unwrapped a burger. When she took a bite a sudden memory assailed her with an intensity that almost choked her.

Max burst into the shop with a grin on his grizzled face. He held a McDonald’s bag in one hand and a case of Coors in the other.

“Big Macs n’ Beer!” he announced. “C’mon, sparkplug, you’ve tinkered with that damn car long enough. Time ta eat up so we can beat the boys at poker tonight!”

Dammit, she missed that old man. He was the closest thing to a father she’d had since her own was murdered. Her eyes and throat burned with unshed tears. Akasha took another bite of the burger, resolving not to be too depressed to savor the food. She soon devoured both Big Macs with the ferocity of one who’d gone hungry too many times to count. Still, it wasn’t the same without cold beer to wash it down.

McNaught returned as she was wiping the last of the ketchup from her lips. This polished gentleman was the polar opposite of the coarse biker-turned-mechanic who’d “raised” her briefly. How the hell was she going to get along with this guy?

“Will you join me in the living room?”

She looked at the garbage left from her meal on the table.
So out of place
.

He seemed to read her mind. “Leave it for now.”

The living room looked like it belonged on the cover of a home magazine. She sank into an overstuffed pine green couch. McNaught turned on the gas fireplace and sat in a burgundy chair at her right.

He grabbed an ashtray from the end table and set it on the granite coffee table. “You may smoke if you like.”

Akasha’s gaze darted to his, surprise and suspicion roiling in her gut. “How did you know I smoked?”

“I read your file. Though I disapprove of the habit, I shouldn’t like to fight you about it. You’re intelligent enough to quit eventually. Would you like a glass of wine as well?”

He was letting her smoke
and
drink?
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
She nodded and dug in her jacket for her smokes. One of the end tables concealed a mini fridge from which he removed a bottle of Chardonnay and a glass. It was one of the coolest things she’d ever seen.

He filled the glasses and began. “First, you must know that I’m away all day. The kitchen is already stocked, but feel free to make a list of anything else you’d like.”