The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  Normal is as normal does—Tori said. Whatever that means.

  SHE thinks we should experiment. Tori said that I have a gift, just like my music, and unless I practice and train it, it is pointless.

  I do wonder if she’s onto something. Though I told her to forget it. She wants to play “mind” games where she’s in a room and thinks about a shape she’s drawing and I’m supposed to guess what it is from another room. Maybe Tori Bori is onto something. We’ll see about her games the next time I’m here.

  For now, it’s just a guess and I think it’s a wrong guess. I mean how could Nina be out of prison? Wouldn’t we know? Wouldn’t someone tell us?

  I’ll tell Mom and Dad/Gavin . . . Dadgavin. Sounds like a place in Scotland or something. But I’ll tell them I have something I want to talk to them about on the way home, or when we get home. Then, Tori won’t tell anyone and someone can call to find out if Nina is still in prison.

  That sounds like a plan. Yeah, I’ll tell Mom about it all, but I don’t know if I can call her MOM to her face yet. I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet, but soon.

  Soon.

  Chapter 15

  The door shut behind Gavin as they all piled bags in the entryway of the house. After spending the weekend up at Seneca, she was glad to be home. Wedding plans were in the works, thanks to Kaitlyn, Christian and Jesslyn. Gavin decided to simply wait until he was asked something.

  It had been a good weekend, even if Ryan seemed to get quiet and more withdrawn. At least, until last night. Last night something had happened. When she and Gavin had returned to the house, they’d found Ryan sitting on the stairs in his Spider-Man pajamas, his face stark pale. He hadn’t said a word, just hugged her tight and refused to let go. He never did tell them what had happened. Gavin and she worried about it all night and this morning. Ryan had hardly spoken all day today and seemed haunted.

  It was later than she wished, being a school night. Ryan stood on the stairs, one hand on the smooth banister.

  Looking at him, she motioned him upstairs. “Why don’t you go get a shower and then you can tell us whatever it is you want to tell us. Will that work?”

  For a moment he seemed undecided, then he nodded, hefted his bag on his shoulder and trudged up the steps.

  “Don’t be too long, honey, it’s late and getting later.” She watched his sneakers disappear. Gavin’s arms slipped around her and pulled her back against him.

  “You think he’ll tell us what’s bothering him?” His deep-timbered voice vibrated against her back and her ear.

  Taylor shrugged. “I have no idea. He just said he wanted to talk to us when we got home. And we’re home.”

  “He’s still too quiet. I didn’t hear one factoid all the way home. He just stared out the window and fidgeted in the seat.”

  “I know.”

  Gavin sighed, straightened and led her into the living room. “I have a confession to make.”

  “You haven’t lied to me about something, have you?”

  His eyes narrowed on hers. “No, not really. I called Dr. Petropolis today and asked if she could see Ryan in the morning. I told her we were worried. I figured if you got too pissed or if he came around, you could always call and cancel.”

  That she could. The first emotion running through her was part shock, part disbelief. But she knew Gavin was as worried about Ryan as she was.

  Taking a deep breath, she only said, “I wish you would have told me.”

  “Why? So you could say to wait till tomorrow? I didn’t want to wait until the morning and then try to get hold of her and hope for an appointment. Now, we have one at eight.”

  Eight? “Dr. Petropolis’s office doesn’t open till nine.”

  Gavin shook his head and walked out of the living room. She heard his footfalls echo down the hallway into the kitchen. Eight? Did it honestly matter? No.

  Taylor followed Gavin. He stood by the sink, looking out into the night.

  “I want to help and this was something I could easily do,” he said, not turning to her. “He’s my son, too. Maybe not yet, but he will be as soon as the adoption is finalized.”

  Yes, Ryan was his son, maybe not legally yet, not until after the wedding. But in every way that mattered Ryan was, and would be, Gavin’s child.

  When he turned back to her, she walked to him. Putting her hands on his chest, she leaned up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  A moment passed, then another. His eyes studied her, and she saw frustration in their depths. He sighed, squeezing her hands. “I’m tired of pushing against you, Taylor.”

  “What?”

  Gavin tried to step around her, but she held on to him. He stilled and glared down at her, a muscle shifting in his jaw. “Half the time I feel like you would rather do it all alone. At least where Ryan is concerned.”

  He thought that?

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m just used to handling things on my own. I’m not used to sharing all this, to lean on, to expect the help.”

  “Well, get used to it.”

  He was angry and worried and she couldn’t really blame him.

  She sighed, and leaned into him. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Taylor cupped his face between her hands. “You’re right. I need to learn to lean . . .”

  His brow cocked.

  “Okay, I need to work on it quite a bit, but I’ll get better. Lean, at the top of my list.”

  This time a grin peeked out at her. His hands covered hers and pulled them from his face. “Hmm. That was almost too easy, but I’m not going to complain.” He leaned down and returned her peck.

  “We just did a sorta marriage thing, didn’t we?” she asked him.

  “Sass,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  This was nice. Two people, two hearts, sharing everything to become one. One. A unity. A family.

  • • •

  The music screamed through her brain. Every image was crystal clear, as though someone had sharpened the world. Nina’s hands were rock steady, nary a shake of a finger as she slid the lock home. She’d learned lots of stuff over the years. Never gone hungry because she knew how to get food. How to get goods to pawn. It was almost like an art, to get a lock to click open. And she was damn good at it.

  That was how she’d met Johnny, rest his fucking soul. Shot through the heart down in Del Rio, Calvin had told her. At least Johnny was no longer a worry. Good ole Cal. He’d learned a thing or two from her when she’d “paid” for her gun.

  A sweet nine-millimeter complete with a silencer. Perfect kick-ass gun for her. Light and quick.

  The house she slipped into was dark, for the most part. Little night-lights periodically glowed from wall sockets near the floor.

  Rod waited in the car. She had to get out of here fast. He was already getting a conscience. While she’d given him a hell of a blow job, she’d told him a conscience had no place in this business and would only get him killed. ’Course, she might be the one to kill him, but for now he was useful.

  A cough sounded from down the hall. Nice big-ass house. A house where her son was. Child stealers. Damn it all.

  Just for a moment the world shrunk, or seemed to. Cal had given her some cosmic powder, but it was good. Some of the best she’d had in a while. She just needed some sleep. Too long on meth slowed you down even if you didn’t think it did. Too high too long and your mind started playing tricks, seeing pink elephants, demons and shit.

  Her black clothes swallowed the shadows, and her soft-soled shoes silently trod along the edge of the floor near the wall. The gun pressed against her abdomen, where she’d crammed it. Pulling it from her waistband she clicked the safety off. The slick of the bullet popping into the chamber echoed in the stillness.

  Nina stilled, stopped breathing. She counted to ten. Nothing. Not another sound. Another ten seconds. Then another.

  Finally, she crept down the hallway to the door. It stood partially open.

&nb
sp; Focus. Music still blared in her mind, and she had to force it off, forced herself to concentrate. No distractions. No slipups.

  She’d off the couple in the bed and grab her kid. Yeah.

  Easy as one.

  Nina slipped through the door and hurried to the bed.

  Two.

  The woman first.

  Three.

  Nina pressed the barrel into the woman’s forehead.

  “Rise and shine.”

  The woman came up screaming and Nina laughed.

  “What the hell?” a man asked, pulling her attention to him.

  Nina pressed the gun harder against the woman. “Do not move. I have a gun.” She shrugged. “And I’ll use it.”

  The woman whimpered.

  “What do you want? Take whatever you want. Just please don’t hurt her,” the man said.

  “You mean that would matter to you?” Nina backed up several steps. She didn’t want to be in easy striking or grabbing distance, but kept the gun trained on the bed.

  The woman whimpered again and tried to scoot next to her husband. “Uh-uh. Stay still.”

  She froze.

  “Take whatever you want. What do you need?” he asked from the other side of the bed.

  “Revenge,” Nina said and pulled the trigger.

  The silenced blast pinged in the room, momentarily flashing in the darkness.

  “Noooooo. Rhonda? Rhonda?” The man was over the woman.

  Rhonda? Who the fuck was Rhonda? Who the hell cared? “Where’s my son?”

  “What?” he bit out between a sob and a growl. “Oh, God. Baby, hang on. Hang on.” He reached for the phone. Nina beat him to it and knocked it away. Framed photos and the lamp jumbled to the floor.

  “My son!”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he yelled at her.

  “Nina Fisher and I want my son!”

  “Fisher? Ryan? Sonofabitch.” He picked up the woman in the bed. “They’re not even here. Rhonda had nothing to do with that. With any of it. God, she’s pregnant. Let me call a doctor. Please. Please.”

  The darkness didn’t allow her to see features, though what she could see, she now registered. “Well, damn.”

  Blonde hair glinted in the dim light.

  Just goes to show. Homework was important. Very important.

  Nina leveled the gun at him. “I’ll let you call a doctor on one condition. Tell me where they are.”

  “Who?”

  Nina tsked. “Mr. Shepard, stupidity doesn’t become you. My son! Your WIFE! WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?”

  “Oh, God, Rhonda. Rhonda. Talk to me. Please. Hang on, baby. Just hang on.”

  “Times a-wasting, Shepard.”

  “I don’t know!” he yelled at her.

  Maybe he didn’t, but then again maybe he did. She looked at the woman again. The shot had caught her in the chest; blood covered him and her in the dark. Nina took two steps to the bed and pressed the barrel against the woman’s head again.

  “Where, Charles?”

  “D.C. They’re in Washington, D.C. I don’t know the address. I swear it. I didn’t care after she moved. I just know Taylor moved to D.C.” He was crying. “Let me call my wife a doctor, please. Please. She’s pregnant.”

  Nina really didn’t like hurting the innocent. Truly she didn’t. Only those who deserved it. Like the judge she’d gotten this morning in the leg. Damn it, she would have nailed the bastard right center if Rod hadn’t distracted her.

  Sighing, she pushed the phone towards him.

  “Fine. Call.”

  She listened as he did. Gave the address and the crime. Gunshot. He was babbling and crying.

  Nina backed up.

  She saw him move on the bed.

  “Damn you. Damn you!” He lunged at her.

  Her finger squeezed the trigger and the second muffled explosion echoed in the room.

  “Mr. Shepard? Mr. Shepard?” came a voice through the phone.

  “Sorry, Charlie.” Nina turned, grabbed the purse and wallet off the dresser, and ran out of the house. Sirens pierced the night as she slid into the car with Rod.

  “Go! Go! Go!” He floored the Mustang and swerved around the next corner.

  “What the fuck did you do?” he asked her, checking the mirror.

  “Tied up a mistaken loose end.”

  She pulled cash out of both the wallet and purse and then ditched them out the window.

  They drove down streets until they hit Highway 183 going into Austin.

  “Get some gas, we’ve got a road trip to start on.”

  Rod glanced at her. “Road trip?”

  “Yeah, to the nation’s freaking capitol. I always wanted to see the sights.”

  • • •

  “Aaaahhhhrrrrrrrrr,” Ryan yelled, slipping on the stairs as the pain pierced his brain. He crumpled to the steps.

  “No. No. No. Nooooooooo!” He shook his head back and forth. Back and forth. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. No. No. No. His fists beat on his thighs.

  “Ryan?” Taylor asked him. “Ryan? Honey?”

  He jerked away from her hand.

  His mind screamed with what he saw, with what he suddenly remembered. And there was no place to hide. Try as he might, he couldn’t get to the center of his castle. It felt as if someone had cut off his air. Gasping, he tried to get his balance.

  “Ryan?” Taylor asked again. He caught the concern in her voice, but he couldn’t look at her yet.

  Maybe if he kept his eyes tight, tight shut, he wouldn’t “see” what he was shown. He wouldn’t see the blood, hear the scream or the gunshots.

  “Sorry, Charlie. Sorry, Charlie.” Oh, God. Tears plopped onto his fisted hands. No. No.

  “Ryan. Look at me. Look at me, Ryan.” Gavin.

  Gavin was here. Taylor was here. He was with them. Not in that room. No blood, no guns, no Nina.

  Carefully, he lifted his head. He still couldn’t breathe, couldn’t catch his breath . . . The faster he tried to breathe, the tighter his chest squeezed.

  “Look in my eyes. Right here.” Gavin pointed with his two fingers at his own blue eyes. Ryan locked his gaze with Gavin’s. “Listen to my voice. Calm down. Take a deep breath. A deep breath.”

  He couldn’t. It was too tight.

  Gavin reached up and put his hands on both sides of Ryan’s face. “Breathe slowly. One deep breath. Come on. You can do it. You’re scaring your mom and me.”

  Ryan didn’t want to scare them. Closing his eyes, he took in a breath and held it. Then another. A slower, deeper one. Opening his eyes, he looked into the depths of Gavin’s.

  “Good,” Gavin told him. “Now again.”

  Ryan did. Three more times. Maybe his heart wouldn’t burst from his chest. Gavin’s fingers on his wrist were warm and gentle.

  “Did you fall? Are you hurt?” Gavin’s deep voice was calm, soothing.

  Calm and soothing, not like the other. The other. Oh, God. She was coming. She shot them. She shot them because of him.

  All he saw was the blue of Gavin’s eyes.

  “Ryan? Are you hurt? What happened?” Taylor asked, sitting beside him on the step. Her arm wrapped around him.

  He stiffened, but he hoped she wouldn’t let go. She didn’t. Taylor never would.

  Ryan closed his eyes as warm tears trailed down his cheeks. He hated to cry. Hated it. It didn’t do any good. But what else could he do? Oh, his head hurt. It hurt bad.

  This one was picture perfect. Never before had a vision been so clear.

  He pulled his hand out of Gavin’s and put it to the side of his head, and leaned into Taylor. Her other arm came around him.

  “Honey, what? What is it?”

  He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t. But he couldn’t hold it in, he couldn’t. It was too much, like a flood that would not be held behind sandbags.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, holding him tight.

  Ryan shook his head back and forth.

  “Did you fall?” Gav
in asked him.

  Again all he could do was shake his head.

  Minutes passed, and still he kept crying. Ryan didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t. If he made a sound, what little bit of himself he was holding back would go tearing out. No, the tears were bad enough.

  “Come on, you two. The living room is a bit more comfortable,” Gavin said.

  Taylor shifted, but Ryan held on tighter. Her hands rubbed his back in circles.

  “Come on, champ.” Gavin’s hands lifted him up. Ryan felt like a baby, but he let Gavin carry him into the living room. He wrapped his arms and legs around Gavin, burying his face in the curve of the man’s neck, breathing in the spicy scent of Gavin’s cologne. They both sat on the couch, Taylor sitting right beside them so that Ryan was sandwiched between the two of them.

  Here he was safe.

  Sorry, Charlie

  It couldn’t be real. He wouldn’t let it be real. Reaching up he rubbed the left side of his head, it hurt. His heart hurt.

  “Ryan? Please talk to us,” Taylor whispered.

  What did he tell them? Would they believe him? Where did he start?

  He picked on a spot on his pajama shorts. “I remember what happened in Austin,” he whispered.

  No one said anything. Taylor snuggled him close and Gavin put his arm around the both of them.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Taylor asked him.

  Did he want to? Not only no, but—bad word or no—hell no.

  The tick of the clock timed off seconds in the quiet room.

  “You know, Ryan. Sometimes there are things in life we don’t want to talk about. And even though talking about them is hard, and makes us sad, scared, or angry—we feel better afterwards,” Gavin told him in that voice.

  He loved Gavin’s voice. It would always remind him of bass notes in music. No way would Gavin yell and cuss. Ryan couldn’t get such a picture to form. But though Ryan probably agreed with what Gavin was saying, he couldn’t help but wonder what Gavin knew of it.

  Like he’d ever heard about murdered cops, or seen people get shot just because she was tripping.