The Viper

by Velvet Vaughn

  The Viper

  Velvet Vaughn

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 VELVET VAUGHN LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-7338636-0-5

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit Velvet's website at: www.velvetvaughn.com and her Facebook Fanpage HERE.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the memory of Deckota.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to sincerely thank the members of my Velvet Vaughn Street Team who help spread the word: Cindi R., Debbie M., Gary A., Karen D., Karen J., Lisa B., Tammy T., Lisa B., Sharon W., Paulyn A and Shelley C. I’m so thankful for all of you and truly appreciate your support. I would also like to thank my social media guru, Kristy O.

  And as always, a huge thank you to my mom. I couldn’t do this without you!

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Notes

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Annabelle St. John’s heart pounded so hard, she feared the vital organ would beat right out of her chest. Andy was dead. Murdered. He’d been shot so many times, right in front of her. She’d watched his last breath leave his body. A hero till the end, he held on long enough to kill the man who shot him, allowing her the opportunity to escape. He’d literally sacrificed his life for hers.

  Choking back a wave of nausea, she slammed the brakes as the stoplight flashed to red, the back end of her Lexus fishtailing before she came to a screeching stop. Her head swiveled, her eyes checking all the mirrors for any signs she was being followed. Her hands were shaking so hard, she had trouble holding on to the walnut covered steering wheel. Seeing no impending threat, she closed her eyes and rested her head against her hands as an image of Andy popped into her head. He was scary at first sight until you got to know him. She’d been intimidated when she first met him but quickly learned that beneath the rough exterior beat a heart of pure gold. When he talked about his young daughter, his eyes lit with gleaming pride. Because of Annabelle, Callie would grow up without the father who adored her.

  With a scream, she jumped and banged her thighs on the steering wheel when a horn sounded behind her. A glance at the rear-view mirror revealed an irate driver flashing his middle finger, not killers on her tail. The light had turned green. With a trembling foot, she pressed the gas and motored through the intersection. Having no idea where she was going, she ventured onto the interstate. Traffic was flying by her at an alarming rate, so she picked up speed lest she be run over and flattened by an eighteen-wheeler. Maybe she’d keep driving until the highway ended. It had to somewhere, right?

  Whoever said money was the root of all evil was totally on point. Annabelle was now worth millions of dollars. She owned homes in Hawaii, Colorado and California. She’d have to hire accountants and attorneys and advisors. It seemed unreal, like a fantasy she’d never dared dream. But because of her newfound wealth, she’d become a target. And people had died.

  She would give it all away—every single penny—if it would bring Rob back.

  Rob had been Annabelle’s stepfather, Robert Singleton. He passed away a week ago after losing a year-long battle with an aggressive cancer that ravaged his body, leaving him nothing but a shell at the end. Though he wasn’t her father by blood, she loved him as if he was, and he loved her like his own daughter. Annabelle didn’t remember much about her real father. Her snippets of memory conjured up a huge man with a beaming smile. He’d been a Green Beret and she recalled being so happy when he returned home from long absences. He’d toss her high in the air while she squealed with joy. When she was six, he’d been killed in the line of duty. She was too young to understand what happened, only that her daddy wasn’t coming home again. As sad as she’d remembered being, her mother made sure she knew she’d been the light of his life.

  A few years later, her mother met Rob Singleton and they fell in love. After they married, Annabelle and her mom moved into his mansion in the Hollywood Hills. Rob doted on her from the beginning, treating her as if she was his daughter. He even wanted to adopt her, but her mother gently refused, wanting Annabelle to keep her biological father’s name in his honor.

  They’d been a happy family, except for the times when Rob’s son came to visit. Robert Junior, or Robbie as he was called, lived most of the time with his mother. He was a few years older than Annabelle and she hated when he was around. He was mean and a bully and he tormented her. She spent as little time around him as possible.

  Then when Annabelle was twelve, her world had been rocked to the core. Her beloved mother had been killed by a drunk driver. She felt as if her entire world had crumbled. Without Rob, she wasn’t sure she’d survive the grief. He’d been her anchor in a storm. He could’ve dumped her at child services and never looked back. He had no obligation to raise his dead wife’s daughter. But Rob wasn’t that kind of man. He not only raised her, but he also loved her and gave her every opportunity to thrive, which she did until the year Robbie turned seventeen and his mother kicked him out of the house. Annabelle had been physically ill when he moved into Rob’s house. The year he spent with them was wrought with tension. He verbally fought with his father at every turn and broke every rule Rob set for him. Annabelle spent most of the time locked in her room. The day Robbie left for good was one of the happiest days of her teen years.

  Annabelle studied hard in school and graduated college among the top in her class. She’d been offered an incredible opportunity at a prestigious company, but the job required that she relocate to Seattle. She hated leaving Rob alone, but the job was too good to pass up and he encouraged her to accept. She planned on working for the company for a few years to gain experience and contacts, and then move back to Los Angeles to be closer to Rob and open her own firm. Her future was forever altered one rainy Sunday night when Rob called with the news of his terminal diagnosis. She’d been devastated to learn that her last living parent was dying. Rob didn’t want her to quit her job, but there was no way she’d let him fight that battle alone. She tendered her resignation the next morning, listed her condo on the market and moved home to take care of the man who took care of her for so many years.

  Though it’d been tough watching Rob slowly deteriorate, she treasured the times she spent with him. His body might’ve been failing, but his mind was still sharp. They talked, played games, worked puzzles and watched television together. She hoped she was able to bring some happiness to his last days on earth.

  During his lengthy illness, his only son couldn�
��t be bothered to visit. Rob and Robbie’s relationship had always been tenuous at best. Robbie had even married and didn’t invite his father to the ceremony. Because of their fractured relationship, Robbie’s inheritance had been family heirlooms and one million dollars. Except for gifts bequeathed to other family and friends, Rob left the bulk of his estate to Annabelle. The houses. The cars. The cash. To say she’d been blindsided was an understatement. She knew Rob was worth a fortune, but she never imagined he’d leave everything to her. She was honored and humbled that he would do so, but he’d inadvertently put her life in danger.

  She’d been driving a few miles when she passed beneath an overhead sign announcing the Los Angeles International Airport. Annabelle yanked the wheel sharply to the right, crossing two lanes of traffic to veer to the off-ramp as angry horns blared. Later, she might worry about the fact that she could’ve caused an accident. She was in no condition to drive.

  Following the signs to long-term parking, she pulled in line behind a dark green Highlander. Since her stepbrother was obviously tracking her, maybe he’d think she decided to take a trip. After the Toyota rolled forward, she powered down her window, punched the button for a ticket and waited for the gate to lift before entering. She proceeded to the very back and angled into an empty space.

  With a fumbling hand, she gathered her meager belongings, stuffed them in her shell-pink Tory Burch backpack purse already weighted down with a shade less than thirty thousand dollars, and slid out of the SUV. Pushing the button on the key fob, she locked the doors, secured the straps of her bag over her shoulders and headed for the small shelter to wait for the shuttle to the terminal. From there, she’d catch another bus to a hotel to figure out where to go next.

  Trudging forward, she felt completely lost and alone. Her world wasn’t guns and murder. The closest she’d come was when she designed a website for a best-selling mystery writer.

  As she neared the bus stop, she noticed a man and woman sitting on the wood bench, while an older man with gray hair leaned against the plexiglass reading a newspaper. Another couple huddled together, laughing and whispering intimately. She wondered if they were newlyweds heading for their honeymoon. Two men in business suits carrying expensive leather briefcases were heading for the shelter from the opposite direction. Annabelle approached with her head down. She didn’t want anyone to remember her if questioned. She needn’t have worried. No one noted her approach.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she turned to see a dark sedan with windows so black they blended in with the paint job, inching slowly down the row. Instinct had her veering away from the bus stop to duck behind a red Dodge Ram. Her heart stuttered when the car stopped directly behind her Lexus. The doors opened and two men got out. The driver was tall and thin, the passenger beefy with broad shoulders. Laurel and Hardy. When the passenger turned to scan the area, she dropped out of sight. Both men sported slicked-back hair and wore dark suits and sunglasses. They looked like the stereotypical goodfellas portrayed in movies. Chancing a look, she watched as they tried the handles of her SUV and then peered into the windows.

  The shuttle bus chugged down the aisle and stopped to pick up the waiting travelers. She thought about making a run for it and leaping on board, but she stayed where she was, willing the men to leave. She’d wait for the next bus once they departed the area.

  Hydraulic doors whizzed shut and the shuttle proceeded to the next stop. The men had returned to their vehicle and were headed her way. From her perch behind the rusty truck bumper, she watched as the black car rushed by, kicking up a cloud of dust. Tires squealed and she shot up to see the sedan veering in front of the shuttle to cut it off. The bus driver slammed on the brakes. The two men jumped out, guns blazing, and her mouth dropped open. They boarded the bus, no doubt looking for her. Horror washed over her at the rapid staccato pops that she recognized as gunshots. Slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, she twisted until her back was against the vehicle before she slid to the ground. They were murdering innocent people in cold blood. They died because of her. A terrifying thought struck that if she’d made a run for the bus, she’d be dead now, too.

  She covered her face with her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks. All of this because of money—money she didn’t even want. How could Rob have done this to her? He had to know how unstable his son was and how he’d take the news that he’d basically been disowned. But no, Rob would never consider that his own flesh and blood would resort to murder. Annabelle firmly believed that as estranged as they’d been, Rob loved his son deeply.

  Unsteadily, she pushed to her feet. She needed to move away from the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. She couldn’t afford to get caught and interrogated by the police. Her name would be on record. Plus, Robbie might have contacts embedded inside the force. It wasn’t a chance she was willing to take.

  The killers had returned to their car and hightailed it out of the lot. She waited until they were out of sight before she cut through the rows as fast as possible without looking like she was running in case she was captured on camera. When she was far enough away, she turned and headed towards the exit. A cacophony of deafening sirens sounded as first responders arrived on the scene. Thankfully, she was far enough away to not be considered a suspect by the time the first police car appeared.

  Another shuttle bus chugged down the row. After checking for any suspicious vehicles lurking about and finding none, she boarded it. She watched for the black sedan the entire trip to the terminal, but they arrived without incident. Keeping her face down, she stepped off and headed for the first hotel shuttle she came across. When it pulled up to the curb, she hurried on board and took the first available seat, making sure to avoid eye contact with the other riders. Her breath caught in her throat when a shadow fell across her and stopped. Then a body landed in the seat beside her. She chanced a look, expecting to see one of the men from the black sedan, instead, it was a young woman with long hair the color of a raven’s wing, bright red lipstick, and enough piercings to set off metal detectors a mile away. She let out a relieved sigh.

  The van proceeded to a big-name chain hotel not far from the airport. She filed inside with the other travelers and made a beeline for the boutique housed inside the lobby to purchase a change of clothes, as well as a hat and sunglasses. She was just about to register for a room when she made an about-face, headed outside and continued down the street to a two-story motel with a red roof.

  She’d have preferred staying at the hotel, but she’d spent more than she wanted on the clothes. After signing in with the fake name Angela Johnson, she handed over cash to the man in his mid-fifties with long, graying hair secured into a ponytail. Diamond studs winked from both ears and the nameplate on his shirt indicated his name to be Frank. He wasn’t overly friendly, which was fine by her. She wasn’t in the mood to make small talk. She didn’t breathe again until the motel door was locked and deadbolted. With the snap of her wrist, the curtains zipped closed over the large window facing the parking lot. Her purse thudded to the floor and she trudged forward until her knees hit the mattress and she collapsed on the bed. All she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and hide for the next year.

  As tempting as that thought was, she needed help. She couldn’t do this alone. She was so far out of her comfort zone, she wasn’t sure how to make her way back. She considered herself bold, daring. She moved hundreds of miles away from home after graduation. Her cadre of friends in Seattle liked to hike and ski and snowboard, yet, she never realized how sheltered her life had been. She didn’t worry about danger lurking around every corner or fear innocent strangers might be murdered because of her. Now she did.

  Forcing herself to move, she pushed to her feet and dug through the dresser drawers until she located a phone book. Flipping to the yellow pages, she found the listings for security companies but had no idea how to choose one. What if they knew her stepbrother? Her eyes drifted closed but snapped open again when an i
mage of her former bodyguard’s face popped into her mind. Andy Garvey. He’d been hired to protect her, and it cost him his life.

  She had no doubt her stepbrother was behind the murder. Robbie was deep in debt and he counted on the money he’d inherit when his father passed away. He didn’t, and now he was after her. He’d threatened to kill her after the will was read and he was obviously doing his best to keep that promise. Not only had Robbie killed her bodyguard, but she feared Mr. Windham, Rob’s lawyer, was dead as well. He’d called her to warn her not to trust the police, that Robbie had contacts everywhere, but his voice had been labored and stilted. Then the call disconnected. She wasn’t positive Mr. Windham was dead, but she feared the worst.

  It did no good to make herself sick with worry about the situation. She needed to be proactive. She found the section in the phone book again, then rummaged in the bedside drawer for paper and pen. She scribbled down three names, ripped the sheet from the pad and grabbed her cell phone to do some research. She was dismayed to realize her battery was only half full. She didn’t have her charger with her, so she needed to conserve the remaining power until she could purchase a new one.

  After checking the websites and reviews of the three companies, she settled on Feel Safe Security. They garnered four and a half stars out of five, and only two dollar signs, meaning they’d be affordable. There was no telling how long she’d be on the run, so she needed to conserve her cash. She turned off her cell to save the battery and used the motel’s landline.

  Forty-five minutes later, she hung up the phone, feeling uneasy with the last conversation. Feel Safe Security refused to take her case. The same with Atkins Security. The man she spoke with at her third choice, Cable Security, had been short with her, especially after she told him she couldn’t pay a retainer. After hearing no from the first two firms, his refusal to help had been her breaking point. She sobbed while begging him to help her. She swore that she was good for the money. After several seconds of tense silence, he reluctantly relented but informed her that the only man available to help her was out of town until tomorrow. He gave her the man’s flight information, a description of his looks and told her to meet him at LAX. She wasn’t too thrilled to rendezvous in a public place, but she had little choice. At least he agreed to help her.