by Ty Patterson
But she still had to see.
She turned back, crept to her door, slid it open and crawled to the stairwell. From there, she had a good view of the dining room.
Her breath choked. A sob escaped her.
Her mom was tied to a chair. Her lips were bleeding. Her thigh was bleeding.
A man came in front of her and stood there. A tall, bald man.
Livy bit her knuckles and tried to hold back her moan. It escaped her and at that, the man swung his face toward her.
Green eyes drilled her. The head nodded at someone and at that her paralysis broke.
With her mom’s ‘Run, Honey,’ ringing in her ears, Livy fled.
She ran back to her room, shut the door and locked it.
She climbed over the window, leaned into the thick branch of the tree that grew close to their window.
She hugged it for a second. Terrified of leaving her mom behind. Scared of going ahead.
Something crashed into her door.
She risked a glance behind. It still held.
A second crash propelled her forward on the branch. Her hands were clammy and started to slip, but she clung on somehow.
She knew she was sobbing, crying, and prayed that no one would hear her. She prayed that Mom would be okay.
She reached the trunk, slid down, the rough, cold, bark scraping her feet, her palms.
She tried to ignore the pain, tried to be brave.
But it was hard. That man was doing something to her mom. People were chasing her.
Her feet landed on ground, and after one last look at her bedroom window, she fled across the yard to the hedge separating their home from Mr. Carter’s.
The hedge was thick and tall and impenetrable.
Except for a six-year-old girl.
Livy fell to her tummy and crawled beneath the barely-there gap that she and her mom had found.
Branches scraped her face, grass tickled her nose, mud dug into her nails and went into her mouth.
She was breathing loudly, panting, crying, and then she was in the small space, deep inside the hedge, invisible from the outside.
She sat up to draw a breath.
A hand clamped over her mouth.
Raul and Elbon were driving through the village, maintaining the perimeter. They were bored, hungry, but warm in the SUV.
Every now and then they checked in with Knuckles who was coordinating them.
‘How long do we have to drive around, Knuckles?’ Elbon grumbled.
‘Till the bitch spills her guts.’
‘Well, what’s the holdup?’
A slap sounded, a scream followed.
Knuckles lowered his voice. ‘You know how Boiler is. He likes to take his time. How’s it out there?’
‘This town’s dead, man. Nothing’s happening here.’
‘Nothing will happen.’ Knuckles said confidently. ‘The bar’s taken, Kadin’s in charge. You guys sit tight. We’ll be outta here, the moment Boiler does his thing.’
Elbon looked at Raul. ‘You heard him. Boiler won’t be rushed.’
Raul lowered the window and spat. He wiped his mouth with a hand and turned to retort when something on the road made him stop.
He stared. ‘What the hell?’
A couple of women were outlined in their headlights.
Young, attractive, smiling as if they were in a bar, not on the road, in the dead of the night in Podunksville.
Elbon recovered swiftly. ‘Check the sides, the rear. It might be a trap.’
Raul grabbed his gun, looked out and behind. ‘No one this side.’
‘Clear this end too.’
Elbon rolled to a stop near the women who shaded their eyes from the bright beams.
He lowered his window. ‘What’s up, ladies?’
‘They’re twins,’ Raul murmured. ‘Lookit the boobs on them.’
Elbon waved him to silence, poked his head out. ‘You need a lift? Or something?’
He didn’t see the shape emerge from behind him. He didn’t feel an arm swing. Something that felt like a house, landed on him and then he felt nothing more. Raul swiveled in shock, grabbed his gun, and shoved his door open.
It slammed back, trapping his foot, twisting it. Before he could recover, a gun smashed into his mouth, and broke a couple of teeth.
A blond head came into his vision and smiled at him. ‘He didn’t put up much of a fight. What about you?’
The smile had no mirth in it, the eyes behind it were cold and then Raul joined Elbon.
Livy struggled, tried to scream, bit the hand covering her mouth, but the grip didn’t let up.
Her sounds were muffled; her thrashing was subdued by an iron hand that pulled her little body tight against the man behind her.
Livy knew it was a man who had grabbed her. The body was hard, even; the hands were like steel bands.
A man.
She was going to die. Her mom was going to die.
No sooner did the thought enter her mind than her thrashing increased. She kicked out with her small legs, slammed back with her head, but the man was unmoved.
He drew her back into a larger hole in the hedge that she didn’t know existed.
Over her struggle, she heard shouting.
She stopped struggling, turned her head and what she saw sucked her breath away.
Two men were searching the backyard, their flashlights weaving back and forth, drawing oval shapes on the ground.
They were hunting her!
She froze, her blood pounded, she thought her heart might burst and come out of her body, it was pounding so hard.
The man behind her stood still, motionless, as if he was the hedge. It looked like he wasn’t friends with them.
Livy took her cue from him, tried to stay motionless, prayed that the searchers couldn’t hear her throbbing heart.
The men searched, one of them even looked under the hedge, but they gave up and went to the front of the house.
She thought the man would let her down now, would relax.
He didn’t.
He stood without moving, his hold on her unyielding despite her resumed struggling.
His grip tightened and she sensed his head turn. She followed his gaze and saw the men had returned.
It was as if they had set a trap, waiting for her to emerge.
They searched the yard again, and this time, didn’t return when they left.
The man still waited long minutes that felt like hours to Livy, then the steel bands around her loosened.
He placed her down and when she turned to face him, she started.
It was Mr. Carter.
She tried to tell him about her mom, the bad guys. The words didn’t come. They were stuck in her throat.
She knew she was hypering, that word her mom used sometimes.
She tried to swallow. She choked and coughed.
She tried to speak again, but she started trembling, shivering, deep fear overpowering her. Tears leaking down her face.
Her mom would die. She had to tell him, but she couldn’t.
Mr. Carter watched her for a second, then crouched and drew level with her.
He placed a hand on her shoulder.
It was warm. Solid. Firm.
It didn’t tremble.
He looked into her eyes, as if reading her mind, as if knowing everything.
Livy started to relax. Her breathing became longer, deeper.
She licked her lips and tried again.
This time some words came. ‘My mom,’ she choked back a sob. ‘Bad guys in the house.’
She knew they didn’t make sense. She tried again, but the hyper thing started again and her words got stuck.
‘How many?’ Mr. Carter asked. His voice was gentle.
Livy shook her head. She didn’t know.
A fresh river of tears started and somehow she shaped letters into words that she forced through her throat.
‘Mom will die. They will kill her.’
; Something turned in the eyes watching her. The hand on her shoulder tightened momentarily.
‘She won’t. They won’t.’
Mr. Carter’s voice didn’t change, but Livy suddenly believed him.
Believed him without any doubt. In the same way she knew that Margie, her bestie, would never leave her side.
He moved her to the side, gently, and bent down and to her surprise, a door opened where they were standing.
He reached down and a light came on.
She peered over his shoulder and saw steps. Wooden steps.
He went down halfway, reached out for her and carried her down the steps.
Her eyes grew round when she took in the small room.
It was yellow and orange. It was warm.
It had a couch, a TV, books, a water cooler.
It had a refrigerator.
Mr. Carter led her to the couch and arranged a blanket over her.
‘I’ll be back. Nothing will happen to you or your mom.’
Livy nodded her head.
She knew he would.
Just as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow.
Chapter 21
Chloe stood in front of the approaching SUV, the second one.
Petite, finely featured, Chloe could stop traffic at any time of the day, anywhere.
At night in Milton Mills, with just one vehicle on the street, halting traffic was child’s play.
She squinted when the bright beams hit her, didn’t respond when a voice yelled out at her.
The SUV came to a halt, its engine growling softly in the night, the only sound in the darkness.
Three heads bobbed inside before one emerged. ‘You got a death wish, lady?’
Chloe didn’t reply.
The voice came back, irritation growing in it. ‘Get the hell outta our way, babe.’
Chloe shifted weight on her feet, brushed her hair back.
A muttered curse came from inside. Something that sounded like bitch.
The passenger door opened and a gangbanger emerged. Tall, dark, tattooed, he looked around, walked cautiously toward Chloe.
‘You don’t speak English, lady? You gotta clear out.’
His hot breath stank of garlic and sweat. His left hand had a gun, his right was empty.
The right hand came up, with it came a leer on his face. ‘You offering, honey?’
The hand reached out to touch her face.
She exploded into action.
She trapped his hand, slid a hip between his legs, pivoted and hurled the man across concrete. The barrel of her Glock came down between the thug’s eyes before he could recover, and rendered him unconscious.
Simultaneously, two shadows raced from the sides of the road, smashed the windows, pointed guns at the two hoods inside.
It was swift, brutal, smooth.
‘Where’s our friend?’ Roger asked when they had finished securing the men.
Broker glanced at the screen on his phone.
‘Doing Zeb stuff.’
‘Cezar is dead.’
Jenny Wade’s voice was hoarse from screaming. She licked her dry lips, her eyes following the man who paced in front of her.
Boiler.
Her lips were split, her nose felt like it was broken, her right thigh twitched and trembled involuntarily.
She refused to look down at her leg. She had thrown up till her body was empty, but looking at the gash in her thigh would set her off on wracking, dry heaves.
Gash. Her mind shied away from using a stronger word.
Cezar had described Boiler at length to her. She had recognized him the moment he had entered her home. She had known in that terrifying instant that she wouldn’t live out the night.
She had screamed at Livy to run, had dodged around the dining table to escape herself, but Boiler caught her easily.
He slapped her once, a flat-handed blow that caught her flush on her face and broke her nose.
She fell, crawled further away, rage filling her, drowning out the fear. She shouted again, at Livy to escape, grabbed a wooden chair and hurled it at Boiler, a lioness protecting her brood.
Boiler didn’t duck, didn’t even flinch.
The chair caught him on the shoulder, a leg broke, but Boiler stood implacable.
He came after her, she darted round the table.
One of his goons caught her, pushed her back into Boiler’s reach.
He slapped her.
‘Where’s Cezar?’ he asked as if discussing the weather.
He didn’t give her time to respond. The bat-like hand caught her and brought her down.
The side of the table gouged into her thigh and drew blood.
She gasped and bit her lips hard to stifle a cry. Her vision dimmed for a second and when it cleared, she tried to rise.
Rough hands grabbed her, hauled her, and dumped her in the chair. Boiler’s men, one of them Knuckles, whom she had seen a couple of times, tied her and stepped back.
Boiler came forward.
She heard the sound on the stairs, saw her daughter’s scared face and with all the remaining breath in her, shouted at Livy to run.
Livy disappeared.
Boiler nodded lazily at two men who hustled up the stairs and tried to break down the locked door.
Jenny took advantage of the distraction and head butted Boiler.
It would have been effective if she had been free. It might have worked if she had been standing.
Her head lost most of its power and landed almost softly in his midriff.
He flung her back and crouched in front of her.
‘Where’s Cezar?’
‘He’s dead,’ she spat at him.
He blinked once.
His hand moved faster than her eyes could comprehend. Something flashed.
Seconds later, white fire lanced through her when his knife buried deep in her thigh, where the table had bit.
She screamed and sobbed.
No one came to her help.
She looked once at the blade stuck in her leg and threw up. Again and again, till her body trembled and shivered.
Knuckles came forward and hurled a bucket of water on her. The cold shocked her and sucked her breath away.
She didn’t feel the knife drawing out till Boiler sat and waved it in front of her.
‘Cezar is dead.’
He grabbed her hair and raised her head.
‘How?’
‘Stroke. He had two, when he was with you. The third one killed him.’ She spat in his face.
‘Stroke? He was young, fit. Maybe you overworked him.’
She saw red at Knuckles snigger, leaned forward and smashed her forehead against Boiler’s nose.
Cezar had taught her a few tricks.
Boiler reared back, lost his balance, recovered, and rose.
The two men entered, before he could retaliate.
Boiler raised an eyebrow.
‘We didn’t find her.’
‘Did you check the neighbors?’
‘There’s only one. Carter. Ajdan is in that house.’
‘Go search the streets.’
Livy had escaped!
Jenny looked down to hide the triumphant look in her eyes, the surge of adrenaline. Her baby was out there, alive.
If she could survive the night …
The cold blade pricked her neck, drawing her eyes back to Boiler.
‘We’ll find her. She won’t get far.’
Boiler’s eyes shone with a green light. ‘Then, my men will play with her.’
The scream that escaped Jenny’s throat turned into a shriek when the knife entered her left shoulder and twisted.
‘Let’s start again.’
Boiler questioned her. Before and after each response, he cut her. Light cuts that bled, that gave the appearance of deeper injuries.
She fainted a couple of times. Knuckles revived her with water.
She stuck to her story.
That she and Cezar had drifted f
rom city to city soon after going into witness protection. They hadn’t stuck to the jobs they had been given, preferring to enjoy their freedom.
San Francisco, Los Angeles, Philly, Miami, Chicago, they spent a few weeks or months in each city, taking odd jobs.
She didn’t know who Parker was.
He pricked her. She fainted.
When she came to, she still didn’t know who Parker was.
‘Where did he die?’
She didn’t respond. Her head fell forward, her hair covering her face.
He jerked her face up and slapped her.
‘Where did he die?’
‘Connecticut.’ Her voice was dull.
She was slipping away. He had to dial up his act.
‘Where’s the money?’
She mumbled something.
He pricked her.
She jerked as if stung.
‘Where’s the money?’
‘It’s gone.’
He thought he misheard her.
‘Gone?’
She nodded.
‘Gone where?’
He brought the knife down on her other thigh.
Her shriek tore through the air and rang through the silent house.
Zeb came across the two men searching in the open park in front of Jenny Wade’s house.
They were moving slowly, searching behind trees and underneath benches.
Their guns were out, they covered one another, but they were casual. The town was theirs; there was no need to be razor sharp.
How long would the girl stay hidden?
He came behind the first man who was lagging behind his partner.
Zeb’s shoes didn’t make a sound; they distributed his weight evenly, lightly.
One moment he was creeping behind the thug, the next the gangbanger was falling, a single blow felling him.
His partner turned, his gun arm rising, his mouth opened to yell.
The warning didn’t emerge.
Zeb grabbed his throat with one hand, disarmed him with ease, and squeezed.
‘How many men inside?’
The man grunted and gasped.
A scream sounded from inside.
Zeb heard it. The hood heard it. There wasn’t any other neighbor to hear it.
‘How many?’
The hood told him.
‘Where’s the money?’
The voice came from far away, through the darkness surrounding Jenny Wade.
She wanted to embrace its warmth, but something held her back.
