by Lexi Hart
Jess jerks her head in my direction and she shakes her head as her lip wobbles. “Don’t. God, please. Not for me. Don’t. You swore an oath; you can’t break it. You know what that means.”
I flex my hands and shooting pain tears through the wounds over my back. He places the scalpel down and palms a handgun.
My heart rate is so high, my vision is blurring, and I know I’m seriously close to passing out.
“Wait, wait, get her safe, get her out, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you anything you want.”
I’m so fatigued, so exhausted, I have no idea if I mean it. I just know Jess won’t survive this if I don’t do something.
I’ve heard the stories just like she has. Only for her, it’s worse. She has a husband and a kid back home.
She dies and it matters.
“I don’t give a shit anymore. They left us here to die. I’ll give you anything you want, just let her walk out the door, let me see her leave.”
He leans against the table, the gun pointed at Jess’ head, a lewd smile grows on his greasy face. “Now. You will tell me now.”
Outside the room, I hear a shout and the sound of trampling feet, then the faint thump of a rotor and I know why he needs the information now.
Panic is overtaking me as he presses the gun harder into Jess’ temple. “Let her go, let her go,” I repeat in a monotone.
Jess sucks in a breath of air, her eyes locked on mine. “Don’t say it. Don’t you damn well give him the location.”
His attention strays to the ceiling and I know I’m out of time. I keep my voice was calm as I can. “Let her walk, you still get what you want.”
His eyes dart from the ceiling as the helicopter draws nearer. Adrenaline is surging through me as he starts to recite a prayer.
I yell as loud as I can. “Let her go. It’s over. They have your location. Let her fucking go!”
But he doesn’t move, just stares at me, lips moving as he prays to a god who expects death as worship.
I jerk against the restraints. I look at Jess but she’s staring at the gun in his hand. “They’re coming. They’re coming. It’s going to be okay,” I say to her.
Her tears start to fall and her shoulders shake as he raises the gun so it's hovering above her exposed nipple.
Jess’ sobs continue as she looks me in the eye. “Tell Mike I love him. Tell my girl I’m sorry I can’t be there to see her grow. I’m so, so sorry.”
Without a word, he presses the muzzle into her nipple, and this time she does scream.
“Luther! Wake up! Luther, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
A feminine voice lulls me out of the depths. But it’s not Jess. It’s lower, throatier, and softer.
Blaire. Blaire is in here. With a rush of awareness, I bolt upwards in my sweat-soaked sheets, flick on the lamp beside me and find her pressed into the wall.
Her eyes are wide, but she seems unharmed. My heart still raging, I point at the door. “Get out.”
She doesn’t move. But the night isn’t over yet. I grit my teeth. “Get out.”
Her mouth opens and I pre-empt her before she can say anything. I keep my voice icy. “Get the fuck out.”
She swallows, moisture glistening in her eyes but she takes a step closer to the door.
She steps through the open door, and to the sound of her starting to cry, I climb out of bed, legs shaking as much as my hands, and twist the lock.
I flick the light off and try to fool myself into thinking I just did the right thing.
BLAIRE
Monday 5.46am
I wake, groggy, and with Luther the first thing that comes to mind. I knew I wouldn’t sleep after the way he treated me, and the extra sleeping pill was the only thing I could think of.
I still don’t know why he was sleeping on the same floor as me. All I know is that the man I spent the weekend with is at best unpredictable, and at worst unstable.
I can’t imagine what he’s going through if that’s the sleep he gets. But he’s made it clear he wants nothing more to do with me, so even if I wanted to help him, I can’t.
I’m not even sure I want to right now.
I finish packing, checking my watch and listening for signs he’s stirring, but if the last two mornings are anything to go by, he’ll have eaten and be working by now.
I’m still sluggish when I make it down the stairs with my luggage. I leave everything by the front door and let out a breath as I head back to the kitchen.
I hold my breath and release it in a rush when I see he’s not inside. It doesn’t look like he’s been in here. No tell-tale signs of coffee, or anything out of place.
My movements are wooden as I pour myself a bowl of granola I don’t really want to eat.
I check my watch again, too many times to count, and know he’s not going to show.
My stomach is tied in knots when I look out the window and see the ferry approaching right on time.
By the time the ferry has docked, and I can hear voices, I know Luther isn’t going to make an appearance.
After he was so cold and so hostile, I should be glad, but I saw him at his worst, and I can’t say I’d want someone gawking at me if I came out of a horrific nightmare either.
I give up trying to justify how I feel, and accept that whatever it was with us, is over.
I scrawl a record of what I ate and drank over the weekend, and when I hear footsteps in the hallway, I force a smile to my face.
Mary bustles in looking incredibly stressed as she finds me sitting at the table. “Oh! How did it go? I’m so sorry I didn’t check in as often as I’d planned. Family emergency.”
I get to my feet, thinking about my own family and my promise to visit Chloe this evening. “That’s okay. Everything went fine.”
Her smile broadens and she lets out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank goodness. After the phone calls between Jake and Luther, I was worried there was a problem.”
I shake my head, feeling guiltier by the second. “No problem.”
It’s obvious she’s distracted when she gestures to the exit. “Jake is taking your luggage to the ferry. Unless you’d like it now, I can email you the bill?”
I nod quickly and follow her out the kitchen door. “That’s fine.”
As she makes small talk, I glance around, hoping to catch sight of Luther. Mary seems to notice me looking and a small smile appears on her face. “Luther didn’t say goodbye?”
I shake my head, and a flickering of annoyance overtakes her smile. “And he wasn’t too awful to be around?”
The words come easily even though it’s an outright lie. “Not at all.”
Her relief is obvious as we meet Jake at the dock. He, on the other hand, looks irritated. He gives me a tight smile. “Did you go in the boathouse?”
I swallow, heat blazing across my cheeks as I think about the camera. I have no idea why he’s asking, only that Luther said he wasn’t supposed to be in there.
With a hesitant smile, I pull a face. “I’m sorry. I did. I heard about your boat and was curious. Was I not supposed to?
His smile falters a little but Mary’s increases as if covering. “That’s fine. It’s just not ready for guests to see that’s all.”
As if to reassure me, Jake nods but there’s nothing reassuring about the tightening of his jaw and the slight clench to his fists.
With nothing else to do, but step on the ferry, I take a last look over my shoulder, hoping against all odds, Luther might change his mind and come see me off.
But when the skipper takes my hand, and I step aboard the vessel, I know, Luther would never do anything of the sort.
Despite how I feel, this weekend was and has to stay, a dirty little secret.
LUTHER
From my position on the roof of the pool house, I watch the ferry depart. No longer in danger of doing something even more stupid, I climb down the ladder and find Jake glaring at me.
I meet his gaze; gut knotted as I consider what I’ve don
e to earn that look. He points to the roof. “I thought we agreed to leave that till next month?”
I have no excuse for starting on the guttering when he made it clear, so I pull off my gloves and try for a half-truth.
“Yeah well, she was hanging around, and she looked like she wanted to chat.”
That earns me a snort of derision. “Yeah. I hear you. Still, I’m on a tight budget, and you go doing shit like that without a harness and all the safety gear...”
I know what he’s saying. He’s trying to protect himself. I’m working without permits, without paying taxes and if I get injured, we’re both screwed.
It’s why I’m not supposed to do anything involving heights unless he’s here. “I’m not going to sue you.”
He mutters to himself as we walk back to the front door. “At least I’ll have peace and quiet the next few days. Spent all weekend at her sister-in-law's house. Her fuck head husband has ducked out on her again.”
I’m not particularly interested in hearing him gripe about his sister in law, so I bring him up to speed on the liquefaction.
He listens with a tight expression on his face but doesn’t interrupt until I mention the Boathouse has additional cracks in the wall.
“You don’t need to worry about anything in the Boathouse. I’ll deal with it.”
I start to argue, but he shuts me down with a glare. “I’ll go transfer your pay.”
He turns and strolls in the direction of the office. Normally I’d leave him to transfer my pay, but I need to know he isn’t going to watch the tapes from the weekend, so I follow him and try to think about a plausible reason for doing so.
“I had to sleep on the second floor,” I say.
He flicks the light switch on and nods as he takes a seat. “Fair enough.”
Since I don’t really normally hang around, it’s more than awkward I am, so I lean against the wall and try to appear casual. “These writers staying the weekend thing going to be a regular event?”
He glances at me and shrugs. “Too early to tell.”
When he’s transferred the money he gives me a curious look. “You going to tell me who Mike and Jess Carlson are?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t need to know where I’m anonymously donating money, so I prompt him again. “The writers?”
He scratches his head. “For all I know Mary could be booking out every weekend we’re in the city. I’d be the last to know.”
A smile twitches at my lips. But I can’t help but feel envious for the life he’s made for himself.
I know I’ve lingered too long when he sends me a pointed look. “You need something else?”
I shake my head. “Just needed to know she’s not going to be coming back here on the weekends, that’s all.”
He raises an eyebrow and pushes away from the desk. “The weekend was that bad?”
I force a grimace to my face. “Yeah,” I lie. “The worst.”
His nostrils flare. “Only you would complain about spending the weekend alone with a hot woman.”
I keep my tone cool. “How often do you look over the camera footage?”
His hands twitch but he doesn’t move. “When I can.”
I try to keep my body as relaxed as possible. “If you tell me what I’m looking for, I could take it home and take a look.”
He folds his arms across his chest and leans back. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
A knot forms in my gut. “Not right now. I’m still looking for full-time work.”
He keeps his eyes locked on me then nods. “This stays between you and me, got it? You don’t discuss this with Mary. She doesn’t need to know.”
A warning grows as he pushes a memory stick into the USB port. “Take a look and let me know if you see anyone creeping around the Boathouse at night.”
My eyebrows raise. “You’ve got a trespasser?”
His eyes are on the screen as he transfers the files. “I need to know if anyone has been messing around in the Boathouse.”
I accept the stick and slide it into my pocket. “That’s why you didn’t want me in there?”
He nods but my unease doesn’t settle. “But since you were in there, you can spend the next few days watching this shit, so I can figure out which staff member I need to fire.”
His eye twitches again. Something isn’t kosher here. He’s not telling me the whole story.
“Don’t lose that. I’m deleting the footage from the past week. I don’t have the storage space to keep it indefinitely. Give me a call if you find anything.”
I nod and don’t let my relief show. “Will do.”
As I walk out of the office, a shallow smile grows as I say goodbye to Mary and head towards the ferry.
I almost wish I could contact Blaire and tell her she no longer has to worry.
Almost.
Chapter 9.
BLAIRE
Monday 5.39pm
Unwilling to stay in my hotel room too long, I took a shower, called Abbie to check her daughter was doing better and didn’t bother to unpack before calling Chloe to say I’ll be over soon.
I’m past exhausted when a cab drops me at my brother’s semi-detached apartment. I’m yawning and my body is aching as I climb the stairs.
Already dressed in sweats, with my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I’m more than ready to settle in for a night with family.
I’m hoping it’ll be the perfect antidote to a confusing weekend with Luther.
I knock on the door and Chloe opens the door immediately. Her hair is a new color, a crazy blue in place of her blonde and she’s wearing her customary eyeliner and multiple piercings.
She grins at me as I step inside. “Dad’s out. He’ll be home soon. He’s bringing the pizza.”
I nod and throw my bag on the floor and pull off my jacket. “Good. We have time to catch up.”
I follow her down the hall to the living room where the TV is currently blaring. Chloe mutes the set and flops down on the sofa. “Did you have a nice weekend?”
I release a sigh, wishing I could be truthful. “Parts of it were nice.”
The parts Luther made me scream like a banshee were very nice.
Her brow twists into a frown. “Who else was there?”
I sink back against the comfy sofa cushion. “For the first five days, a few other writers. Then just me and the caretaker over the weekend.”
Her nose scrunches up. “That sounds boring. Was he old and wrinkly?”
I pull a face back at her. “Not at all. He’s a Marine.”
A faint smirk tugs her lips up and a flash of excitement appears. “Like Jason Bourne?”
A chuckle. “Jason Bourne is a fictional character, Chloe. No matter how much you wish he was real, he isn’t. And besides, he wasn’t a Marine.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know. I know. But still, staying in a castle with a Marine is pretty cool. Did you spend much time with him?”
I don’t know how to answer that so I just shrug. “Some. But I was there to write. What about you? Did you decide to wait before applying for the nanny position?”
She slumps back, her face pinched as she nods. “Yeah. I just wanted a change of scene. You know?”
I find myself nodding. I do know. “Maybe you should take a vacation? Ask your dad to take you somewhere?”
Her face twists in disgust. “He’ll just bring his girlfriend with him.”
I sigh heavily. This is not an easy conversation to have. And I have to be careful not to overstep.
Whatever I think about my brother’s choices in women are irrelevant. He’s a good dad, but it can’t be easy raising Chloe on his own.
Nick has always been social. From the time we were little, he was the one out making friends, playing sports and getting out there.
Even after dad went nuts, he carried on, the life and soul of the party, while I cowered in my room, night after night, hermitted away, my nose in a book, or writing like my therapist suggeste
d to work through my anxiety.
He was too young to know what really happened that night. Four years younger than me, he’s always been a heavy sleeper, so when the police arrived, he was dumbfounded as to what was going on.
Already close to emotional overwhelm, I gesture at the TV. “Put something funny on. I could do with a laugh.”
Chloe obliges and switches to a rom-com then narrows her eyes at me. “Are you okay? You look kind of; I don’t know, sad.”
Pain slams into my chest and I have to dig my fingernails into my palms to keep my voice level. “Just tired.”
She doesn’t look convinced but Nick’s timely arrival saves me from having to hide how I’m really feeling.
Because I am sad. It’s really that simple. I’m sad for me, sad for Luther, and just sad my life is in pieces.
But most of all, in a blinding moment of clarity, I realize, I’m sad I won’t see him again.
A knot forms in my throat as Nick dumps a pizza box on the coffee table.
For the most part, he still looks like my baby brother, but he’s no longer an irritating, scruffy nuisance who used to get under my feet. He’s a lanky six-foot scruffy man and he’s the only stability I have in my life right now.
He squeezes me too tight and grins awkwardly. “Hey, sis, scrounging for food again I see.”
Chloe pipes up from behind us, her eyes on the food on the table. “Did you get the cheese garlic bread?”
Nick nods. “You want it in here like peasants or you want to eat at the table and pretend we’re civilized?”
I snort a laugh as Chloe reaches forward and snags a slice of pizza. “Ask a stupid question.”
Nick chuckles and folds his long legs into the sofa, his eyes on me as I settle in beside Chloe again. “Have a good weekend?”
Chloe answers for me, her mouth full of pizza. “She met a Marine.”
Nick’s eyebrows rise as he reaches for a piece of pizza. “At the writers' retreat? What was he a speaker?”
Chloe grumbles beside me. “It could be a woman, dad. Women can be Marines.”
I nod, taking my own piece of greasy pizza in my fingers. “They can. But he wasn’t. And he wasn’t a speaker. He’s the caretaker,” I mumble.
