Unchecked (New York Unraveled #2)

Chapter One.

RAYNE.

Life was shitty.
I had no fixed job. I had no educational degree. I had no money. I had no damn person to rely on.
I used to have a best friend, Karen, who used to keep me fed, paid the rent for our studio apartment, got me small time jobs in small time places and busted me out of whatever shit I landed my ass in. But then she found the 'love of her life' and moved in with him and I was all alone in the dreary world with a pack of cigarettes and a cheap bottle of beer.
I sat down on the curb, smoking a cigarette and inhaling the burning tobacco, letting it parch my throat and shrivel my lungs. If I couldn't have a life, at least I could end it. When the smoke floated into my system and cast a woozy aura on the world, it felt as close to life as it ever got for me.
A black car stopped in front of me. The window rolled down to reveal a man who looked just a little older than me. He had a rugged look to his face like he couldn't be bothered about trivial self grooming things when he knew he would look good no matter how unkempt his appearance was. A light beard carpeted his strong jaw and wild hair fell over his eyes that had a strict glint to them.
"Do you need help, miss?" he asked politely.
"No, thanks. I'm good," I said lazily, stretching my legs and leaning back against the lamppost to check him out with ease.
He took out an ID badge and flashed it at me.
Evan Saunders. NYPD.
My eyes widened in alarm. He was a cop. Damn it.
"You don't have to be scared. I'll drop you home. This place isn't safe for young ladies to be alone in, especially at this time of the night," he said.
Safe, huh. He wouldn't exactly be saying these words if he knew I had drugs on me right then which were burning a hole through my pocket.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry, officer." I smiled sweetly and batted my eyelashes a little, hoping he would leave.
"I insist," he said firmly, leaving no room for arguments. His intense gaze was unnerving enough for me that I reluctantly got in with him. I didn't want to go to jail again but it didn't look like I had another choice because if he asked me for identity, I would definitely be behind bars faster than you can say 'handcuffs'.
"Thank you," I said with my head turned down, hiding my face behind a curtain of hair.
"No problem," he replied easily. "Where do you live?"
I gave him the address to the studio apartment I was trying hard to pay the rent of. There's only so much I can do by bartending at random bars or sleeping with guys and stealing from them.
"I didn't know the police had started going around in Aston Martins," I remarked.
"We haven't. I'm off duty," he said. I glanced sideways and all I could see was the sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled up, revealing his strong forearms.
I must have been looking skeptical or maybe he was used to similar questionable glances. Because people in his job were paid well, but he looked too wealthy to be in the NYPD. "Family money," he said dryly as a way of explanation.
"Ah. It makes sense now," I nodded mostly to myself.
The way to my home was as deserted as it got. There were apartment buildings here and there with abandoned parks in between but mostly not a lot of people ventured out at nights. This was the area of New York that actually slept. And if you had the guts to be awake, the thugs around here would put you to sleep.
"I didn't catch your name," he said after a while.
I debated on giving him a fake name but a voice in my mind screamed, "The dude is a cop, you jackass!" So I told him the truth. "Rayne Owell," I said.
"Rayne as in precipitation rain?" he asked with an amused lilt to his voice.
"Rayne as in queen in French, mighty in Scandinavian and song in Jewish," I replied. "And yes, precipitation in Stupid."
He threw his head back and laughed like I'd cracked the funniest joke ever. "That's a very pretty name," he said when once he was done laughing, "Very unique."
My neck snapped towards him. "Thank you," I said uncertainly, wondering if he was mocking me. Throughout life, people had only made fun of my name. Kids in school used to sing, "Rayne, Rayne, go away, come again some other day," to me. I used to be a happy kid who loved dressing up in pink frocks and yellow tunics. Then people teased me by calling me a "RayneBow" so I stopped donning the colorful clothes. I shifted to dull shades like black, blue and gray and that's all my wardrobe had now. Evan Saunders was the first person to call my name pretty.
"I mean it," he said as if sending my skepticism, "I really like your name. But you obviously get that from a lot of people."
"You'd be surprised," I muttered.
"Seriously?" he asked with genuine shock in his voice.
"Yeah." I changed the topic. "Anyway, enough about me. What were you doing in this humble part of the city?"
"I was going home. This humble part of the city happens to be on the way," he replied. The amused tone had still not left him.
"Do you usually do social services like picking up girls from footpaths and getting them home?" I asked.
He chuckled. "I don't usually find a lot of girls alone on footpaths smoking their lungs away."
"Is that supposed to offend me, officer?" I said dryly.
"That's supposed to guilt you into not smoking. But if offense works to help you throw away the cigarettes, so be it," he said, instantly turning serious. How was it possible for a person to jump from laughing to deadbolt in a second?
"I believe in the "live fast, die young" theory, so neither guilt nor offense are gonna work here," I replied and turned towards the window.
The car slowed to a stop in front of the high rise building on the twelfth floor of which I lived. At least the view was amazing from the windows, if nothing else.
"Thanks for the ride again, sir," I said as I got off and shut the door of the car, giving him a million dollar smile because nothing shows gratitude as much as a do-me look.
He nodded, his lips upturned in a slight smile of his own. "Take care, Rayne."
"You too," I said and sashayed off to the huge gates of the society. I had to cross a small service road and then a wide parking area to reach the gates. Remember how I told you this was a bad part of the city? Well, there were reasons it sucked so hard.
Five men who had been leaning against their bikes on the sidewalks noticed me and started catcalls and whistles. The things they said were debauch enough to make you want to wrap six layers of blankets around you and gag. But I was used to these people. The bars where I worked didn't exactly sport the most civilized section of customers. I held my head high like I couldn't give a fuck about them and walked straight on ahead, ignoring them like they didn't exist ten feet away from me.
One of the men pushed off from his bike and ran to block my way. I tried to sidestep him but he blocked me again.
"What's the hurry, sexy? We'll take you where you want," he jeered, unabashedly checking me out. Thank God I was wearing a hoodie and a jeans, and not the skimpy attire I was required to don for the bars. At least it covered all of me. But it still wasn't enough. His eyes were like an X-ray machine that could see everything beneath.
The rest four also come up to me by then. All five of them were circling me like hungry vultures who had just found their new meat. I kept up my attempts to find a gap in the circle around me.
Until they were leering and saying inappropriate shit, I could ignore and try to get away but then they started touching me and groping me and I really started to get scared. And when I got scared, I had a tendency to get angry. I punched one of them on his nose and tried to make a run for it but two of them grabbed me by my hair, twisting my arms back painfully.
"You bitch. How dare you hit him? Now you're gonna get it," said one, his face so close to mine that I could smell the stale beer on his breath.
I tried to kick my legs and call out for help but they pushed me to my knees and put the base of one of the bottles they'd been drinking from in my mouth. It stretched my lips so far wide that it pained like Satan was stabbing me with his pitchfork over and over again.
Tears were falling down so hard that I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening to me. Out of all the places, it happens when I'm this close to home. I was so close to what every girl fears to even see in her nightmares.
The man I'd hit had regained his composure and he looked pissed beyond hell. He was stalking towards me dangerously. He spat on the floor as he made his way to where I had been forced to kneel.
I struggled to get away but the man who was holding my arms behind my back was very strong. There was nothing I could do. They dragged me forward by my hair to emphasize the fact. Shards of stones and glass embedded themselves into my knees. I was in so much pain that I couldn't even scream.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the onslaught of whatever lewd punishment he deemed fit.
It never came.
I heard a groan and a whimper, followed by curses from the men who were holding me down. And then I heard a voice that kick started a flood of hope inside me. "Away. Now," said Evan.
My eyes blinked open and through a haze of tears, I saw the bastard who I'd elbowed lying face first on the floor. Evan was standing over him, with one foot pressing down on his neck and a gun pointed straight above me. I didn't know how this guardian angel had made his way back to me but I had never been that grateful to see someone in my entire life.
One of the men behind me held me in a headlock and I felt the cold metal of a knife being pressed against my throat. "Leave or we'll slit her throat," he threatened.
"I have backup coming in a few minutes. You can't cause her any damage that won't heal. Take two steps back, drop your weapons and put your hands where I can see them," said Evan strictly but calmly.
None of them moved. The knife was still dangerously biting into my skin.
Evan kicked the guy lying on the ground so hard, it made him whimper even in his halfway unconscious state. "Step back now or I'll kill him," he threatened and the coldness in his tone made me shiver too. "Don't doubt me. It won't be my first encounter."
Their grip on me loosened and I took the chance to free my hands and elbowed the one with the knife in the groin. He dropped the knife right beside my feet to cover the injured part.
I hurriedly took out the bottle from my mouth and grabbed the knife.
At the same time, Evan shot two of them on their leg and the last one ran away, seeing how hopelessly the odds had turned against them in five seconds.
Evan rushed to where I was kneeling before the man I'd elbowed could. He pointed the nozzle of the gun at his chest. "Don't make me shoot you too," he growled.
The perilous look in Evan's eyes was enough to make anybody run. He looked both ways in fright and made a run for it, knocking over the other bikes as he took his and sped off.
"Are you fine?" Evan asked as he squatted down in front of me.
I wasn't able to speak. My whole body was shaking with the aftershock of what had just happened. Stars were dancing in my vision and my breath was shallow.
He pushed my hair out of my eyes. "It's okay. You're safe now," he said gently.
I couldn't get the image of what could have happened out of my mind. Had he not come to save me, I would probably be lying naked and broken in some ditch. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck, all embarrassment out of the damn window.
He encased my trembling body in his warmth and rubbed my back gently. He kept talking to me in soothing tones, telling me it was okay and that I was safe and he wouldn't let anyone come near me.
He helped me get up but I was so weak and horror struck that my knees buckled the moment I put weight on my feet. He put an arm around my waist and lifted me up.
"I- I'll walk... I-" I tried to tell him I could walk on my own but he gave me a pointed look which shut me up.
"What's your address?" he asked gently.
"D Block, second tower from the right, 12-C," I replied.
We left the three injured men on the road to await the handcuffs that the NYPD would put on them. When we reached the door of my apartment, he put me down with an arm still around my waist to support me so that I could put in the key and open the door. But I wasn't able to stop my hand from shaking and the key rattled at the mouth of the keyhole.
He put a steady hand over mine and helped me unlock the door, after which he picked me up again and laid me down on the couch so gently, like I was a delicate showpiece that would break if not handled properly. He found a blanket lying at the foot of the bed in the corner of the room and wrapped it around me.
"Thank you," I whispered, my lower lip still trembling badly.
"Don't mention it," he said, kneeling in front of me.
"No, I mean, really. Thank you. Thanks a lot. If you hadn't come in time..."
He cut me off. "But I did. Don't think about it."
The landline phone on the table beside the couch started ringing, making me scream with a start. He put an arm around me again and stroked my back to calm me down. And I was thinking, Man, if I'm going to shriek like a little girl at every loud noise, I should probably start digging a grave already.

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Author's note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for picking up this book. A lot of you must have read the first part of this series, Untamed, before. The fact that you liked it enough to start the second means a lot. If you liked it, please vote and leave your feedback. Comment below and tell me if you've read the first part or not, and if you're enjoying this. Toodles! :)