by Sharon Sala
“Ju gonna eet lunch today?”
He frowned, thinking of what he had to do. “No, don’t fix anything. Just leave me some dinner in the refrigerator. I’ll heat it up if I want something tonight.”
“Okee dokee,” she said, and carried the dirty cup to the kitchen as she went.
A few minutes later, Lonnie’s cell rang. It was Freddie. He went back to his office, opened the small wall safe and took out a gun, then slipped it inside the pocket of his topcoat and headed out the door to meet Warwick.
* * *
The day was clear and sunny, but once out of the shelter of the car, the cold wind cut right through Lonnie’s overcoat. He hunched his shoulders as he and Freddie walked between the rusting train cars. The old rail yard was a favorite place of his to do business. Out of the way of prying eyes, but still close enough to keep the drive from his townhouse to a minimum.
Bert Warwick was already there, leaning against the hood of a Silver Lexus and smoking a cigar. His driver was at the other end of the car, standing watch. Lonnie could smell the tobacco on the wind. His eyes narrowed as Bert took a big puff, then exhaled, sending another wave of smoke right at him. He knew exactly what Bert was doing, and it pissed him off. Blowing smoke in his face—in a show of understated intimidation.
Lonnie gauged the distance between Bert and his driver. At least six feet. That was Bert’s second mistake—the first being trying to pull a double cross.
Lonnie stopped within a few feet of the car, then jammed his hands in his pockets, as if to protect them from the cold.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
Bert shook the ash off his cigar and started to take another puff when Lonnie suddenly pulled a hand from his pocket and slapped the offending smoke out of Bert’s hands.
“What the fuck?” Bert yelled.
“That’s what I thought when I heard you wanted a bigger cut.”
A wave of red swept up Bert’s neck. It occurred to him that he just might have underestimated the man.
“I didn’t—”
Lonnie slapped Bert, then pulled his gun on the driver when the man started to make a move.
“You! Stay out of this.”
Freddie had his weapon trained on the driver now, so all Lonnie had to do was focus on Bert.
“Walk with me,” Lonnie said, using his gun to urge Bert away from the car.
Bert knew the ropes. Leaving the scene without backup was suicide.
“Come on, Lonnie. We don’t have to do this. You know how it goes. I was testing the waters, so to speak. You’re a new kid on the block in this business and—”
Lonnie grinned. “But that’s where you’re wrong, Bert. Before you tried to pull a fast one, you should have done your homework on me.”
“What do you mean?”
Lonnie shoved his gun up under Bert’s chin so hard it made the man bite his own tongue. Bert tasted blood but had the good sense not to move. Lonnie’s breath was warm on his face as he leaned closer.
“If you’d been a smart man, you would have found out that I had been cooking and dealing meth on my own since the age of twelve. I killed my first man at thirteen for welshing on a debt, and I got busted at the age of fourteen. When I came out of juvie I was eighteen and deadly. I don’t like liars. I don’t tolerate them. Did you lie when we made our first deal? Did you intend to pull this shit after you knew I’d already invested heavily in my setup?”
It was then that Bert knew how close he was to dying. “No, no, I swear. I didn’t lie. You know what I said. It’s just my way of testing you, man.”
“You suck,” Lonnie whispered. “And you don’t know how bad I want to pull this trigger just to see how high the top of your head would fly.”
Despite the chill wind, sweat was running out of Bert’s hair and down the back of his neck. He shuddered.
“I’ll do right by you. I swear.”
Lonnie took a step back, then lowered the gun.
“We will never have this conversation again,” he said, then added, “Just so you know, this is your last chance. Don’t fuck it up, and don’t ever fuck with me again. The next time we talk it will be when I deliver the first shipment of coke.”
Bert nodded.
“Good. So get your ass back in the car,” Lonnie ordered, and pointed at Bert’s driver. “Lay your gun on the ground, and then the both of you get the fuck out of my sight.”
Bert scrambled around the front of the car and jumped in just as his driver opened the door.
“Hurry up,” Bert said. “Get us out of here.”
Lonnie watched until the car was completely out of sight, then pocketed his gun.
“Let’s go, Freddie. I have an appointment.”
They walked back to the car and drove away.
All in all, the day was moving along quite nicely, Lonnie thought as they went. Next up was the little matter of taking care of the man who’d beaten one of Sol’s girls. The son of a bitch didn’t know it, but Lonnie was about to give him a good beating and a solid case of indigestion. He knew stuff about the man that could ruin him. Leverage was a good thing to have.
* * *
Mariah poked around the cabin, wishing she had something to do besides sleep and eat. She’d never been much of a television watcher, and having that for her only source of entertainment fell short of satisfactory.
But if someone had asked her what she wanted to do, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. She had no marketable skills beyond those she’d learned as a soldier. Growing up, no one had ever encouraged her to pursue a trade, and she’d been too busy trying to survive the foster system to think about anything except getting out of it.
Now here she was, nearly twenty-four years old, with a gimpy leg and a scrambled brain—definitely less than a prime choice for employment. But it was a case of first things first, which meant getting well. Then she could worry about working. Maybe recovery would give her time to figure out what she could do.
Even though it was almost lunchtime, she wasn’t hungry. Quinn had been gone since before daylight, and she’d slept in and eaten late. Bored, she walked out onto the back deck and thought about taking a walk in the woods. The fact that they were so close to the cabin and she had yet to even set foot beneath the shade of the trees was eating at her. The mere presence of the forest was a taunt—reminding her of yet one more fear she couldn’t conquer. She hated feeling like a failure. It was just another reminder of the tenor of her life.
The longer she stood there, the more determined she became. Before she could talk herself out of it, she went back into the cabin, got the rifle, made sure it was loaded, dropped the cell phone in her pocket and headed out.
The grass in the meadow was knee-high, and the sun was warm on her face. She placed each step carefully, aware that a tumble this far from the cabin could be an issue. She was so busy looking down at where she was walking that she didn’t realize how close she was to the woods until the grass began to thin out.
She looked up.
Trees loomed.
There was a moment when she almost turned around and went back. Then she took a deep breath, shifted the rifle from her shoulder to her hand and walked out of the grass into the trees.
The underbrush was thicker in some places than in others, but it didn’t her take long to find a well-worn trail. Curious as to where it would lead and knowing she couldn’t get lost as long as she stayed on it, she began to walk.
The shade was a welcome contrast to the hot sun in the meadow, and the birds she’d previously heard only from the deck were much louder, their songs more distinct. She paused, trying to identify where the sounds were coming from, but only caught the occasional glimpse of color as they flitted from tree to tree.
She looked down periodically to make sure she was still on the path, as well as to keep an eye out for snakes.
As she passed beneath a tall pine, a sudden outburst of animal disapproval caught her attention right before a pinecone landed at
her feet. She looked up through the branches and finally located a small squirrel peering down at her through the needles, still scolding her for trespassing.
She laughed. “Sorry about that,” she said, and kept walking, listening, taking mental notes as she went.
The farther she walked, the slower her steps became. Muscles were beginning to protest. It was time to go back, even though the trail stretching in front of her piqued her curiosity.
“Another day,” she said, and reluctantly turned around. As she did, something rustled in the underbrush just ahead, and when it didn’t emerge, her imagination went into overdrive. She swung the rifle up, ready to take aim should an attack be imminent.
The limbs on the bushes began to flail, and there was a distinct sound of something moving about in the dry leaves on the forest floor. Her heart was pounding. Should she try to get away, or wait and possibly be attacked?
All of a sudden the branches parted and a fat rabbit hopped out. There was a moment of hesitation when it saw her and seemed as shocked as she was, then it leaped off into the underbrush on the other side of the trail.
“Oh, my Lord,” she muttered. “A rabbit. I was almost attacked by a rabbit.”
Still rattled, she took off, going back down the path as fast as she could move. It was a mistake. Within a few steps she lost her balance and down she went, falling hard on her hands and knees. The rifle went flying, and she bit her lip.
It was the taste of blood in her mouth that made her lose it. Just like that she was back in the desert, crawling on her hands and knees—and without a rifle. The trees were gone. The sound of the wind in the pines, the bird calls, the squirrel’s chatter…all gone. The only things she could hear were the screams of incoming shells and the ensuing explosions.
Still crawling for cover, she sobbed with relief when the feel of cold steel hit her palm. Grabbing her rifle, she dragged it with her as she crawled behind the wall of a bombed-out house. Blood was running from the corner of her mouth. She spat, then listened, waiting for orders that never came.
It was the cell phone ringing in her pocket that yanked her back into the present. When she came to, her back was against the trunk of a tree, her rifle aimed at the underbrush. Her tongue hurt as much as her lip, and there was blood on her shirt. She had no memory of biting her tongue hard enough to make that happen. The phone rang again. She closed her eyes, answering the call with shaking hands, knowing if she didn’t, Quinn would worry. “Hello?”
“Hey, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer. Are you okay?”
She looked at the trees and the lengthening shadows beneath them. It was getting dark, and she was still in the forest.
“I’m fine. Are you on the way home?”
“Soon. I’m down in Boone’s Gap getting gas. Is there anything you need from town?”
She closed her eyes, trying to think of anything that would delay his trip so she would have time to get back to the cabin.
“I’m getting low on shampoo, and I’m going to be needing some Tampax. Will you freak if you have to buy that?”
He laughed. “I have a sister, remember? From the time we learned to drive, Mom made all three of us boys buy stuff like that. It was part of the price of getting to go to town when we were in our teens.”
She made herself laugh when she really wanted to cry.
“Okay, so get a couple of boxes, then you won’t have to buy it so often. Just regular…nothing supersize.”
“Will do, pretty girl. Can I assume you’d be okay if I brought home a side of smoked baby back ribs?”
She rolled her eyes. Eating those with a sore tongue was going to be a trick.
“Yes, you can, and if they have sides to go with them, I like anything you like.”
“That sounds like a deal,” Quinn said. “See you soon. I’ve got a bunch of stuff to tell you about what’s been going on today.”
“Drive safe,” she said, then disconnected.
As she put the phone back in her pocket, she realized the palms of her hands were scratched and her knees were hurting. She pulled up the legs of her jeans and sighed. Both knees were scratched, as well. No way to hide it. She didn’t remember falling, but it was obvious that she had. She didn’t know what had triggered the PTSD, but she knew damn well it had happened.
Anxious to get out of the forest before dark caught her, she pushed herself up, wincing sharply as she bent back down for the rifle, and then panicked when she realized she was no longer on the trail. Moments later she found signs of where she’d been crawling and backtracked until she found the path. At that point it was easy to figure out which way to go. The land sloped slightly downward, which would take her back down the mountain toward the cabin.
Ignoring her pain, she started walking. The sounds in the trees were different now. The birds had gone to roost. The squirrels had taken to their nests. Mariah had no idea what kinds of animals came out at night, but she had no desire to run into them.
Her knees throbbed, her hands stung, but she was so angry at what had happened that her fear was gone. By the time she walked out of the trees it was dusk and the moon was becoming visible in the night sky. She knew Quinn wasn’t home yet because the cabin was still in darkness. Anxious to get cleaned up before he arrived, she set her jaw and strode through the meadow. When she finally reached the back steps, she was shaking.
She entered the cabin, turning on lights as she went, and then stripped in the utility room, threw her bloody clothes in the washer and headed for the shower.
By the time Quinn drove up her clothes were in the dryer, she had doctored her hands and knees, taken a pain pill, and dressed in a clean pair of sweats and a T-shirt. It would be simple to explain away the injuries without lying. All he needed to know was that she’d fallen. Given her condition, he would never think to question the fact.
Fourteen
Quinn came in the door smiling and holding up the to-go sack with the baby back ribs. The scent made Mariah’s mouth water, but the thought of what the salt and tangy sauce was going to do to her sore tongue made her wince where she sat on the couch.
“Hey, honey! I’m home.” Then he saw her swollen lip and frowned.
She held up her hand. “I’m fine.”
He put the sack down on the coffee table and sat down beside her.
“So?”
She shrugged. “So, I fell, okay? It happens every now and then, and I can promise you this won’t be the last time.”
“Are you okay other than the fat lip?”
She yanked up her sweats and held out her hands.
“I also bit my tongue. Wanna see that, too?”
Quinn heard the anger in her voice but knew it came from frustration.
“No, but if you’d told me sooner, I would have brought mashed potatoes instead of potato salad, and something easier to eat than ribs.”
She slumped. “I feel stupid enough without asking for baby food.”
“Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Suck it up, Conrad, and come eat with me.”
She grinned. “Gee, thanks for all the sympathy.”
He wanted to hold her. Instead he shrugged. “Just means more ribs for me. Do you want water or a beer? I brought a six-pack.”
“Water. I took a pain pill.”
That got to him. “Well, damn it. I’m sorry, honey.”
She sighed. “So am I, but it’s not the end of the world. It was just a fall, okay?”
He tilted her chin, but instead of kissing her lips, he kissed one cheek and then the other.
“My poor baby.”
Mariah shivered with sudden longing. It was almost worth the pain just to hear the love in his voice.
“Let’s eat, okay?”
He nodded, then helped her up. “Are you too sore to walk?”
“Let’s just say I’m too sore to take another fall, so I’ll lean on you just in case.”
“Just hang on,” he said, then picked her up and carried her to
the kitchen. As soon as he set her at the table he went back for the food. “You take out the containers. I’ll get plates.”
She felt guilty for not telling him where she’d been when she fell, but it didn’t change the facts of her injuries and would only make him worry, so she let it slide. She was already a burden. The last thing she wanted was to become a bigger one.
Quinn hid his concerns as he doled out the food. It did no good to dwell on what had already happened, and she was sitting in front of him, proof the damage was minimal.
As soon as they began to eat, he started telling her about his day.
“Remember I told you I had some news to share? Well, it looks like we might actually be on to who put an arrow into that bear and turned it into a mankiller.”
That was news Mariah had a connection with. “Really?”
“Yes. The ranger station has been getting calls about someone poaching up in the high country. Another ranger and I did some recon today, checking out reported kill sites.”
“Kill sites?”
“We found carcasses…or what was left of them after he removed the trophies.”
“Trophies? Oh, my God, does that mean he’s cutting off the heads?”
“And anything else he thinks there’s a market for.”
“How do you know it’s the same person who shot the bear?”
“Remember how the park service hauled off the bear you shot?”
“Yes.”
“They removed the arrow and the broken shaft as evidence. The brand and style are the same as the arrows we found in the carcasses today.”
“That’s awful. Do you think you can find him?”
“I know we’re going to try. Want some baked beans? They’re probably easier to chew than the ribs.”
“Sure, I’ll give them a try,” she said, and pushed her plate across the table.
He served her up a couple of spoonfuls and winked. She took a bite.
“They’re good, and you’re right, a lot easier to eat than the meat.”
