Shatter

by Lola Taylor

  A knock came at the door. Well, more like a banging, as if a caveman wanted entrance.

  Amy’s eyes flashed to Scott’s. “What if that’s Nathan?”

  “For his sake, I hope he’s not that stupid,” Scott growled, standing and tugging on his pants. Storming to the door, he grabbed the baseball bat Amy kept nearby, and peered through the peephole.

  “Shit,” he breathed.

  “What?” Amy said, suddenly terrified as she leapt out of bed. Her foot caught on the sheet, and she nearly went down, but she grabbed the footboard and righted herself. She scrambled to get dressed. “Who is it?”

  “Another unwelcome visitor.” Scott held up a hand as she stepped into the living room. “Stay back. I got this.”

  Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t argue. She trusted him, body and soul.

  Stepping back into the shadows of the bedroom, she nodded once, and Scott took a deep breath.

  With his whole body tensed, he opened the door.

  Amy recognized the man immediately. It was one of Ghost’s henchmen from the inn.

  He didn’t look too happy to be there. He scowled at Scott.

  “Ghost wants you. Now.”

  “NOW?” SCOTT ASKED, perhaps a little sharper than he should have. After all, most smart men didn’t bite off the heads of mobsters. “Couldn’t you have just called?”

  “Ghost wanted a little insurance.” He lifted the flap of his coat to reveal a handgun strapped to his waist.

  “Ghost said I had until tonight.”

  “It is night. Look out the window, genius.”

  Scott glanced over his shoulder. Hot damn. It was dusk. The sun was starting to set. His teeth ground together. “How did you know where I was?”

  “Doesn’t take a genius to guess you’d be at your girl’s when you don’t answer your door. And I know you’re not stupid enough to ignore me.”

  Scott glanced at the bedroom, where Amy was hiding, and shifted his weight. It felt as though he’d swallowed a bunch of rocks. Not yet. It’s too soon. He realized leaving her anytime would be too damned soon, regardless of if he had a day to prepare or a lifetime. “I don’t have anything ready to go.”

  “Then get to packing. We’re leaving in five minutes. Don’t make Ghost wait.” He paused. “Bring the girl.”

  “Amy’s not going anywhere—”

  “The other girl, jackass. The lanky blonde.”

  He turned and thudded down the stairwell. Once he was gone, Scott growled a sigh and let the door slam closed.

  Amy came out as he walked toward her. “What’s going on?” She glanced nervously at the door.

  “Ghost is here.” He glanced out the window. The meathead who’d summoned him knocked on the window of a pitch-black limo. It rolled down, and he said something to the man sitting in the back.

  Ghost. Come to collect him already, to tighten the leash again.

  Scott remembered his earlier conversation with Mack, his words drifting through his head.

  “How far are you willing to go to protect that girl, Scott?”

  “To hell and back,” Scott murmured, thinking of what he’d promised Amy while they lay tangled in each other’s arms only minutes before.

  “Scott?”

  Scott kissed her quickly. The fire of determination burned in his gut as he strode to the door. “Walk with me?”

  She followed on his heels as they went into his apartment, and he pulled his duffel bag out of the bedroom closet. “What’s going on, Scott?”

  Guilt wrenched his gut. Steeling himself, he turned to face Amy. He had to look at her eyes. He owed her that much for what he was about to say. “I made a deal with Ghost. I’m going to fight for him again.”

  Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as her jaw hit the floor. “What?” she screeched.

  He held up both hands to calm her. “It’s okay. I have a plan.”

  “A plan.” She laughed in her nervous, high-pitched laugh. “What kind of plan could you possibly have for fighting that asshole? He’s dangerous!”

  “Which is why I’m going to put him away for good,” Scott said earnestly, gripping her arms. Hell, the more he talked about it, the more he saw his future in Amy’s eyes, and the more fired up he got about this suicide plan. “But I need your help.”

  She pursed her lips as she scrutinized him. “What do you need me to do?”

  Reaching into his pants pocket, he produced a piece of paper with a phone number and a name scribbled on it. “My parole officer gave this to me earlier when I went down by the station to meet with him. I need you to call this number after I leave and tell Agent White I’ve left with Ghost. That’s all.”

  “Agent White? What the hell’s going on?”

  “I can’t tell you.” He forced himself to look away so he could throw some stuff into the duffel bag. Ghost wasn’t exactly known for his patience. “That way if Ghost has someone check in on you, and I guarantee he’ll try, you can honestly say you don’t know anything.” Cramming his toiletries into the bag, he zipped it closed and hoisted it over his shoulder.

  “Why can’t you call this number?” Amy asked as he walked to the door.

  He glanced at his watch. Four minutes had passed. One more to go before Ghost sent someone in for him. “It’s not part of the plan. I can’t have that number available in case Ghost checks my phone.”

  He stopped in front of the door and turned around to face her. Before she could argue or he lost his nerve to leave her, he grabbed her by the arms and whispered, “Wait for me?”

  She froze; fear and pain flashed in her eyes. Bottom lip trembling, she pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and nodded. “Always,” she whispered back.

  Scott took her face in his hands and kissed her one last time, savoring her taste, her smell, the feel of her soft skin and hair beneath his fingers.

  Amy clung to him; the tremble had worked its way into her arms.

  God, if he didn’t stop now, he’d never be able to let her go. Calling upon every ounce of control he had, he forced himself to break the kiss, giving her one last lingering look before he headed out the door and down the stairs.

  She didn’t follow him. About halfway down the stairs, he couldn’t help it anymore and looked up.

  There she was, standing in his doorway, looking as though the life had been sucked out of her. He felt hollow and cold inside, staring at his angel.

  Don’t think like that. This isn’t the end. It’s just a brief break while you settle an old score.

  Giving her an encouraging smile that was as much for his benefit as hers, he kept walking. He made a quick detour on the way down to grab Erika and haul her downstairs with him.

  The thug who had come to claim him met them at the car. After a thorough pat-down to make sure one of them wasn’t secretly packing heat, the goon begrudgingly nodded. A second later, Scott heard the click of the car doors being unlocked. Goonface opened the door. Erika got in without hesitation, and Goonface glared at Scott as he waited for him to get in.

  The inside of the car was dark, thanks to the super-tinted windows. Ghost sat there, smoking a cigar. He offered one to Scott as he reluctantly sat beside his old master, but Scott shook his head. Goonface shut the door and got in the front seat on the passenger’s side, drawing a gun and aiming it at Scott before the driver sped away. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he said.

  Scott raised a brow. It didn’t surprise him, and it wasn’t the first time he’d had a gun aimed at him.

  The thug raised a hand. “Give me the bag. You, too, blondie.”

  Erika handed over her purse as if it were on fire. Fear flashed in her round eyes.

  Scott handed his duffel bag over without batting a lash, making a point to look bored. “Be my guest, if digging through men’s underwear is your thing.”

  The guy leered at him but dutifully searched the duffel bag’s contents. He briefly took out Scott’s cell and thumbed through it. “Looks clean.” He pl
aced everything back inside, except the phone. He handed that to Ghost, who pulled it apart to check for a bug before he stuck it inside his coat pocket after he’d taken the battery out.

  “Wouldn’t want someone tracking us via GPS, now would we?” he said congenially as Goonface searched Erika’s purse. “I’ll determine when you can make calls, as part of our arrangement.”

  Scott’s jaw gritted. “Okay, Mom.”

  Ghost chuckled and knocked off ash into the fancy glass ashtray at his side. “You haven’t lost your fire. Oh, how I’ve missed it.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” Scott said tersely.

  Ghost only grinned wider. “I’m glad you haven’t lost your old spark. You’ll need it inside the ring.”

  Scott swallowed, though he couldn’t deny a small ember of excitement glowed in his belly at the thought of getting back in the ring.

  Over my dead body. Dammit, he’d made a promise to Amy.

  And he was damn well going to keep it.

  No more fighting. No more running, after tonight. No, after tonight, things were going to change, permanently.

  Scott just hoped he lived long enough to see the outcome.

  Watching Scott drive off felt like ripping out her own heart. The hopelessness that had been so pronounced at Michael’s death, and at Nathan’s trial when they’d let him walk free, almost took over. It always did, anytime her life threatened to fall apart. Once again, happiness was within her grasp, and it had slipped through her fingers.

  More like it had been yanked—by Ghost, by Nathan, by Michael’s anonymous killer.

  Why was it whenever she touched something, it got fucked up? Was she cursed?

  The sudden biting urge to talk to her mom or sister gnawed at her, but she promptly shut it up. They already had enough on their plates, and besides, she couldn’t risk Nathan somehow finding out and going after them. They were all the family she had left.

  Deep in her heart, she knew letting Scott go was the best thing for his safety, even if it was into the hands of another monster. At least, in a twisted way, she could rest assured Scott would be somewhat safe with Ghost. He viewed his fighters as investments, and from the sound of it, Scott was a pretty big one. He’d protect him at any cost.

  Yeah, good luck getting through the mob, Nathan, she thought with bitter satisfaction.

  Rain pelted the glass as thunder boomed and shook the building. Thunderstorms were nerve-racking enough, but they were ten times worse at night. Though it was unlikely to happen in California, she had nightmares of a tornado ripping through town and lifting her up into the sky. The giant, bone-crushing wind tunnels had always freaked her out.

  Braveheart whined from beneath her bed. His two golden eyes reflected the lightning, and he shrank further into the shadows, terrified.

  You and me both, buddy.

  Not in the mood for a freak-out session, she focused on performing the task Scott had left her with. Grabbing her phone, she punched in the number scrawled on the piece of paper. The agent was deep-voiced and brief. He said maybe ten words and then hung up after he took her name.

  “Well, you’re welcome,” Amy muttered, staring at the CALL ENDED message that flashed on her cell phone screen.

  She paced afterward, nibbling on her lip as she wondered whether Scott was okay and what she was going to do about Nathan. She was supposed to meet him tonight. She needed a plan—now.

  And it was nowhere to be found.

  “Shit.” She wrung her hair. “Okay, breathe.” She took a breath and let it out. “Who do you know who you can talk to?” She couldn’t go to the cops; Nathan’s father probably knew someone who could cover up his son’s tracks if Nathan caught wind of Amy’s snitch and decided to make good on his threat. He could go after Becca, or her mom or sister…

  She stopped.

  The thought was ludicrous. And dangerous, potentially deadly. But it might be her only option, and frankly, she was running out of those.

  Her heart ached as she walked to the bedroom. The smell of their lovemaking lingered in the air, along with Scott’s pine scent. It assaulted her, teasing her that he was never coming back.

  Don’t think that way. He’s coming back. And you have to make sure you’re here when he does.

  She didn’t even dare turn on the bedroom light, for fear Ghost’s men were watching the outside of the building. Using the light on her cell phone screen, she opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and removed a bundle of cloth.

  The cloaked item wasn’t light, but it was far from being unbearable. She rested the item on her bed, staring at it as her heart hammered in her chest.

  She swallowed hard. Was she really going through with this? Could she do what needed to be done, when the time came, if she even made it that far?

  Holding her breath and not blinking, she slowly reached down and lifted the flaps of cloth until the item beneath was exposed.

  Her last resort stared up at her, its black frame more menacing, somehow, considering what she was about to do with it.

  This weapon of destruction—this gun—could literally be the key to her salvation.

  Right then and there, she made a promise to herself.

  She would do it. If it came down to him or her, she would shoot Nathan.

  And hell, she might even enjoy it a little.

  ABOUT FIFTEEN MINUTES into the car ride to wherever the hell they were going, Scott wanted to kill Erika. He gave himself major points for lasting fifteen whole minutes. His patience must be improving.

  “The hot water didn’t work in the apartment.” She glared at him. She sat with her arms crossed, pouting. “I couldn’t even enjoy my shower. In fact, I almost didn’t take one, and whose fault would that have been? Seriously, do you never answer your phone? What kind of landlord are you?”

  “For starters, I’m not a landlord,” Scott said evenly, shooting her a glare right back. “I’m just a building manager.” He grimaced. “Was a building manager. And get over it, princess. People deal with random shit all the time. It’s what grown-ups do.”

  “Are you calling me a baby?”

  “Silence!” Ghost barked. “Both of you! You’re quibbling like a couple of children, and I won’t stand for it.”

  Erika’s eyes widened, like a puppy that had just been scolded. Scott bit his tongue. Now wasn’t the time to piss Ghost off. That would come later.

  And he was going to fucking enjoy it.

  Wait ’til you see what’s coming, asshole.

  Tempted by the ensuing silence, Scott leaned his head back against the plush leather and closed his eyes.

  He could still see Amy clearly in his mind, gazing at him from his doorway as he left her. God, it killed him to have to abandon her. What if the press went after her again? What if that psycho Nathan paid her another visit, and he wasn’t there to protect her? Granted, he’d asked Mack to watch over her for him, as a condition of him helping out the feds, but still… He didn’t trust anyone to protect his Amy half as well as he could. More like he didn’t trust anyone to care enough to protect her, especially not a police department infested with rotten cops. Mack swore he’d get someone clean, someone he trusted, but how could he know whether the guy or girl was secretly taking money from Ghost under the table?

  Anxiety twisted his gut. His foot began to tap.

  Ghost studied his foot; those oily, calculating eyes slinked up his whole body. “You look nervous.”

  Scott opened his eyes and popped his neck, playing it casual. “I’m in the car with you, aren’t I?”

  Ghost chuckled. A slow smile spread on his face. “You always were my favorite. You and I are a lot alike.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, we are, more than you think.” Ghost poked his cigar at him. As soon as he’d finished the last one, he’d started on another. “Both of us have the drive, this competitive edge, to get ahead in life and get what we want, no matter what.”

  “You mean take what you want? Ruin pe
ople’s lives? Nah, doesn’t sound like me.”

  Ghost’s eyes narrowed, but that arrogant smile, the smile of triumph Scott used to sport in the ring after a long, bloody fight, remained on his face. “You say that now, but we’ll see how long that lasts.”

  Scott tensed. “Meaning?”

  Ghost shrugged and glanced out his window, watching the buildings get larger and larger. They must be headed downtown, toward the business district. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  If a man should fear hearing anything come out of that snake’s mouth, it was those words.

  Shit.

  Ghost remained silent the rest of the drive there, leaving Scott to stew over what he was about to face. He knew it was useless trying to get details out of him before Ghost was ready to reveal them. He’d just be wasting his breath.

  Erika didn’t speak to him the rest of the way, though she kept glancing at him every few seconds with a mixture of hope and longing. He made a point of turning his body away from her, preferring to look outside instead.

  It was fully dark out and had started to storm by the time they pulled up to a large domed building he recognized as one of the huge auditoriums where they held concerts. The parking lot was packed with a lot of fancy cars. Scott went on the alert, studying his surroundings as they parked and got out. Goonface—Trevor, he was called—flashed his gun at him as he took a position behind Scott. “Get any ideas and…”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Scott sounded bored.

  They didn’t have far to walk, considering the driver had pulled right up to the door. It didn’t surprise him Ghost was considered a VIP, allowed to park wherever the hell he pleased.

  Security must have recognized Ghost, because they let him and his entourage through without question. Scott raised a brow, wondering what the hell they were doing here. Ghost normally didn’t conduct his business in such a public place.

  Ghost paused and turned to face Erika. He took out his billfold and handed her a one-hundred-dollar bill. “For your trouble. I’ll be in touch should I need your services again.”

  Erika glanced at the money longingly and then at Scott.

  Scott steeled his gaze, already knowing what she would do.