by E V Lind
The fat waitress was back. His nose wrinkled as her strong perfume made an assault on his senses.
“There you go, handsome,” she said with a smile and a wink.
He just grunted and picked up the napkin wrapped cutlery delivered with his order. He was starving but he forced himself to eat slowly, to eke out his time here, to observe carefully the comings and goings of the place. It was cleaner than he’d expected and the food tasted better, too.
A movement at the far side of the café caught his attention and he looked over the rim of the glasses. His fingers clutched convulsively around the cheap cutlery in his hands. She was here and she wasn’t alone. Slut. Dan let out a long, slow breath, forced himself to relax, tried not to stare as he watched her come inside a rear entrance to the café with some Neanderthal who limped across to a table and sat down. Dan hadn’t missed the proprietary way the guy had had his hand at Beth’s back, nor the way he watched her as she went into the kitchen and started work. The stinking whore obviously had him wrapped around her little finger. How dare she? She was his to do with what he wanted.
Not for anyone else.
Never for anyone else.
Swallowing back the rage that billowed through his thoughts and threatened to expose him, Dan ducked his head and returned his attention to his meal. He flicked up his gaze as the guy scanned the room—as if he was looking for someone. Him, maybe? Had the bitch been spreading lies about him, Dan thought angrily as he forked up a piece of sausage and chewed slowly. She still hadn’t learned to keep her mouth shut, had she? He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her again. To remind her just exactly who was boss.
He risked a glance toward the kitchen, saw Beth wrapping an apron around her body and felt a solid punch of shock to his solar plexus when he identified the rounded bump of her belly beneath the white cloth. Rage flared anew and his throat closed mid-swallow. He reached for his coffee with a shaking hand. Took a gulp of the liquid and let it trickle slowly down his throat to dislodge the obstruction.
He could barely take his eyes off her now. The fucking bitch was still pregnant? How could that be? He’d taken care of that with his size eleven feet, hadn’t he? It had to be his. His blood boiled and he fought back the roar that built from deep inside him.
He decided who had his babies. He decided who and what would be born. Not her. Never her! Dan fought through the burning rage that threatened to consume him, that might make him make a mistake—a sound or a gesture—that might tip her off too soon.
He felt someone’s eyes upon him. The Neanderthal was staring at him. Dan quelled the urge to stare back—to meet the challenge in the guy’s eyes with one of his own. To show the dickhead just who was boss here. Instead, he averted his gaze, took one more bite of his meal and then reached for his billfold. He casually peeled off a few dollars and threw them on the table then got up to leave.
The anger inside him flared even stronger but he controlled it as he controlled everything. Beth had a protector. It didn’t matter. He’d get his due. Dan would make sure of it. And once he was out of the way, it was Beth’s turn.
*
Ryan watched the creep in the corner leave the café and got up to follow him. While he probably shouldn’t be leaving Beth, here in the café she had Lester and Norris on the lookout—not to mention his mom. While the two men might be getting on in years, Ryan had seen them brawling outside the local bar. He knew that in a sticky situation they could hold their own—and Beth’s, too.
Beth came by as he pushed up from his seat.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure. I just want to grab something from the truck.”
She gave him a smile and moved on to a customer who’d just settled at one of her tables. He felt bad lying to her but he didn’t want to freak her out at the same time. Obviously, she hadn’t noticed the guy in the corner over in Val’s section. It might have been better if she had. While he’d obviously been wearing bulky clothing and Ryan had no doubt that his hair, glasses and cap were some attempt at disguise, there might have been something about his mannerisms or the way he walked that might have helped her identify if he was her ex.
Ryan had made mental notes about him and he’d run them past Beth later at the end of her shift. Something had been distinctly “off” about the guy. It hadn’t just been the weird hair, which looked like a truly bad wig, it had been his body language. The second Ryan and Beth had come through the rear door Ryan had picked up a bad vibe from him. The man had been coiled as tight as a spring and, to Ryan’s way of thinking, he’d paid Beth just a bit too much attention for comfort.
Outside, Ryan scanned the street. There was no one strolling by that he didn’t recognize and he fielded a few greetings as he walked to the nearest intersection. The feeling of being observed made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in awareness and Ryan slowly turned his head. Again, no one obviously watching him but the guy was here. He just knew it.
A small, dark sedan suddenly peeled out of a parking spot across the street, earning an irritated pump on the horn from the car he’d just cut off. Ryan was certain the person behind the wheel of the sedan was the man from the café. He noted as much information about the vehicle as he could before it disappeared from view. Streaks of mud had obscured the plates but Ryan at least recognized the make, model and color, for all the good it’d do him.
He could give the cops the information. Tell them he thought it was Daniel Henderson. There was, after all, a warrant out for the guy. Yeah, that was what he’d do. All his instincts clamored at him that he was on the right track. Hopefully it would be enough to keep their pitifully small and underfunded local force on alert.
His mom came up to him as he reentered the café.
“What was that about? I haven’t seen you move so fast in a long time.”
“Just a feeling,” he said briefly.
“It was him, wasn’t it? The one sitting in the corner in Val’s section.”
Ryan looked at his mom. “Him?”
“The guy that hurt Beth.”
“Could’ve been.” He didn’t want to scare her unnecessarily, either.
“I felt it, too. The rage, the intensity. It wasn’t that strong until you guys came back from her break but the second she walked in that door I felt it. It made me feel ill, son.”
She still felt off if her pallor was anything to go by. Ryan couldn’t argue with his mom’s intuition. Hadn’t he experienced a similar reaction himself?
“I’m going to give Frank a call. But if you see that guy around town, I want you to call me or Frank straight away. And stay well away from him, Ma. He’s dangerous.”
“I know and I will.” She let out a shuddering breath. “You can’t let him near her, you know that, don’t you?”
Ryan nodded. The guy was here determined to finish a job and Ryan was equally determined to ensure he failed.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Beth watched the intense conversation between Ryan and Mary-Ann. What on earth could they be discussing that made them both look like they’d each swallowed a fistful of horehound candy? Ryan looked across at her and Beth felt her heart skip a beat at the severe expression on his face. What was going on? Had they heard something about Dan? Already?
Anxiety made her hand wobble as she poured a mug of coffee.
“Don’t go spilling all our profits,” Val said out the side of her mouth as she passed Beth by.
It was the grounding kind of reminder Beth needed to push her focus back onto what she was doing. She patted her pocket, feeling the collection of tips she’d accumulated already today. Together with her run money, she’d be able to get by for a few months if she was careful. For as long as she stayed ahead of Dan, anyway. Of course, she had yet to retrieve her run money from the flour bin at the old MacDonald place. The idea of going back in there, of feeling the weight of the dark presence that lingered there and all the censure it carried put her teeth on edge, but she had to do it.
&nbs
p; Reminding herself she’d endured far worse, she began to formulate a plan. Somehow, she’d have to get the Toyota away from Ryan’s tonight, without him hearing. If she could coast the car down the driveway and start it only when she got to the road, she’d be okay. She’d stop at the MacDonald place, retrieve her money and then drive until she couldn’t go any further. If only she hadn’t called Colleen. Guilt sat with oppressive weight on her conscience. The other woman would still be alive right now. Going about her everyday existence, still happy and maybe even falling in love with that new man in her life she’d spoken about.
Beth blinked hard against the burn of tears in her eyes. Yes, Colleen would still be alive, Dan would have had no idea she was here, and she wouldn’t have had to plan to steal away like a thief in the night. Like the kind of person Ryan had accused her of being right at the start. Unfortunately, she was about to prove him right.
She bustled about the café, stealing a glance at him now and again. She’d miss him, she knew that. She’d miss everyone here, but him most of all. Somehow, despite what she’d been through with Dan and despite her initial impressions of Ryan, she felt safe with him. Safe...and something else, maybe?
Hot color flushed her cheeks as she remembered what had happened last night. Remembered the way she’d reacted. Not with shock or revulsion but with warmth and a curl of desire. Desire that begged to be coaxed to life and to explore what a normal relationship between a man and a woman could be like.
No, it was just as well she was leaving. She didn’t dare fall into a relationship with someone else. It was madness. She was expecting another man’s child. Knowing what Ryan did about Dan and what he’d done to her, how could Ryan help but visit those sins on the child. The second she thought it, she felt ashamed. Ryan wasn’t that kind of man. He was pretty much everything that Dan wasn’t. He’d appointed himself her protector, not her controller. Although there had been times when he came close to the latter, she thought with an ironic grimace, he sought her thoughts rather than telling her what to think and do and say. And he hadn’t deliberately hurt her, not once.
Yeah, she’d miss him. But that’s all she’d allow herself to do. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t explore what might happen if they went further than the chaste kiss they’d shared over a week ago. No matter how much she might want to.
At the end of her shift, Ryan escorted her to the truck. Mary-Ann had pressed a container of minestrone soup on them as they’d gone to leave, together with a loaf of fresh bread. The scents that filled the truck on the drive home should have whet her appetite but instead all Beth felt was sick with the prospect of what she was going to do.
It had to be tonight. She couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Couldn’t afford to wonder just when Dan would show up and wreak havoc on the life she’d made here—and she most certainly couldn’t stay here and see Ryan put his life or his future in jeopardy for her sake.
“You tired?” Ryan asked, startling her from her reveries.
She seized the question as a chance to set things up for tonight. “Yeah, I’m not feeling so good today. It was a busy one. I think I’ll probably hit the sack straight after dinner.”
She felt Ryan take a good, long look at her across the bench seat of the truck. Silence strung between them and Beth felt her body grow taut as she waited for some comment from him. But then she heard him grunt in acceptance and she allowed herself to relax a little. Relax, and plan.
*
Dan hunkered low in the bushes near a large shed on the Neanderthal’s property and caught his breath. He’d had trouble finding somewhere to hide the car and had ended up walking further than he’d anticipated. Doing so and not being seen had taken some smarts. Good thing he had that in spades, right? More so than the average population around here. He hadn’t counted on the dogs. Damn beasts had gone nuts in their kennels out back. Thank God they’d settled down after he’d found his hiding place.
Dan hunched down a little deeper and thought about what he’d discovered today. The inhabitants of Riverbend were about as stupid as they looked. Anyone would say anything about their neighbors. Dan’s mouth curled in disgust. Hadn’t they ever heard about privacy? They all seemed to know one another’s business and were quite happy to discuss it loudly, no matter who was around to hear it.
When he’d made a general enquiry about the scarred girl at the café, they all appeared to know Beth, or of her anyway. You didn’t need to be a detective, first class, to learn how long she’d been here or what she did, but when it came to where she lived they had been unusually cagey.
And the hulk that had been with her? God, they couldn’t talk enough about him. Fucking war hero—but still recovering from his wounds from what they all said in respectfully hushed tones at the general store. Holy fuck, and that general store? They were so pathetically proud that it had been standing over a hundred years. Damn building had an actual lean to it. Apparently, it’d been built that way with a sloping floor by some cock-eyed hick back in the day. Just about gave him hives just being in there. Place oughta be torn down. Probably riddled with rats and other vermin.
Dan shuddered and took a swig of the bottled water he’d purchased. Not too much. Wouldn’t do to get caught out taking a leak while he was here at the war hero’s farm doing a bit of reconnaissance, even though the idea of pissing against his front door had distinct appeal. It was no better than the guy deserved, Dan seethed. The war hero had no right to touch Beth. She was his.
First. Last.
To the death.
Seemed everyone around here thought the sun shone straight out the war hero’s ass. So proud of him and his service and wasn’t it just darling that he still drove the truck his granddaddy had been given for his graduation? And his mom, what a heart of gold. Would give the clothes off her back to anyone in need. Made him want to puke. No man was that great a guy and no woman was that nice. Everyone had a secret. Everyone had a dark side. Still, none of that mattered because Mr. Fuck-I’m-so-amazing wouldn’t be around for much longer.
Dan fingered the edge of the blade on the flick knife. Not quite as clean as it should have been but it was still viciously sharp. He closed the blade and returned the knife to a side pocket of the camo cargoes he’d found in a clothing bin. The war hero had a limp which probably put the guy at a disadvantage in a fight, but even so he was taller and heavier than Dan so Dan would have to move fast on the guy, take him by surprise, use speed and superior intelligence to get the guy off-balance. While it meant he wouldn’t get the pleasure of making his death as slow or as painfully punishing as Dan had hoped for, it would leave him more time to play with Beth.
A delicious surge of desire swept through his body. Oh, he’d make it so good for her. So fucking good.
Dan nestled more comfortably into his hiding place, running scenarios of how this would play out over and over in his head. He must have dozed off because he came full awake with a start as the dogs out back started barking up a storm and he heard the rumble of a finely tuned engine as a vehicle came up the long driveway toward the house. Dan narrowed his eyes as he identified the old heap of junk that was apparently the war hero’s pride and joy.
He watched as Beth got down from the truck and followed the Neanderthal into the elegant two-story farmhouse.
She was living with him?
Rage flared from the pit of his gut. Rolling and twisting through him until his limbs shook and he thought his head would burst. Oh, the bitch would pay for that. How she’d pay. He’d make her suffer like she’d never known it before.
*
The wind had risen outside, making clouds scud across the sky and obscure any potential light from the moon. Beth moved stealthily around the edges of the beautiful room that had been Ryan’s grandmother’s and hoisted the backpack she’d taken from the small box room at the end of the hall onto her shoulders. The weight of it settled between her shoulder blades and she took a mental inventory of what she’d stuffed inside—just a few items of
clothing and changes of underwear together with some toiletries. It would have to do. She patted the front pockets of her jeans and nodded to herself when she felt the outline of the keys to the Toyota on one side, her roll of tips on the other.
She held her breath as she opened the bedroom door and listened carefully for any sign that Ryan had heard her leave her room. He slept so lightly that these past couple of nights, when she’d risen to use the bathroom, he’d been standing in his doorway, watching for her, upon her return.
Beth trod carefully as she made her way down the staircase that led to the main entrance. The staircase was less frequently used than the back stairs by the kitchen and at least it was further from Ryan’s rear-facing bedroom so if she made some sound he’d, hopefully, be less likely to hear it. At the foot of the staircase she let out the breath she’d been holding and looked at the front door. The deadlocks on there were new and she could see no keys. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, considering her options. Head to the back of the house and go out the kitchen door? The one that was directly beneath Ryan’s bedroom? Or risk opening one of the deep sash windows in the front parlor?
It had to be the front parlor. She gently closed the door behind her and flicked on the flashlight in the cell phone Ryan had insisted she carry on her at all times. Beth moved stealthily across the unfamiliar room and put the phone down on the sill as she reached for the latch. Thankfully, the latch gave easily and the property was so well-maintained that the window slid up smoothly. Beth put first one leg, then the other over the sill before retrieving the phone and gently sliding the window shut again. It slipped the last couple of inches and seated itself with a muffled thud. Beth closed her eyes and silently prayed the sound wouldn’t filter through Ryan’s sleep.
Her car was parked near the tractor shed and she picked her way across the gravel drive. The irony didn’t escape her that, in the normal course of a day, you didn’t notice sounds like footsteps on gravel, or car tires on a driveway, but at night every sound, every movement, seemed to be amplified to deafening proportions.
