by Amie Stuart
“Well, isn’t that special! Should I feel all honored and shit?” she huffed.
He shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain to her how important not lying to her was. He had no one to blame but himself, but he’d known this wouldn’t end well. “I’m going to take a shower.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nothing kills a post-coital glow like reality.
“Well, wasn’t that exciting?” I muttered, sniffing back my tears. Staring at the bathroom door, I wondered how long Will was going to hide in there. Even though I knew it was impossible, a part of me hoped he’d drown or slip and hit his head or, at the least, cut himself shaving. I was still seething over him reading my journals!
Scamp appeared next to the bed and stared up at me, his head tilted slightly to the side.
“What, dude?” I reached down and gave him a scratch.
I didn’t want to think about my mom or my step-dad, who’d gotten away with murder, or Ronnie, who’d finished up his tour in Afghanistan, then died in a car crash on the way home from the airport. All of it was enough to give a girl a complex. Nothing ever went like I planned, so I’d stopped planning, learned to improvise and go with the flow. Settling down had just seemed like a bad idea after Ronnie.
Nothing ever worked out. Not even this, here with Will. Not that I’d expected it to.
I was finished. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my T-shirt fisted in my hands, my eyes on the bathroom door.
Scamp barked once, then trotted toward the front door and back again. I glanced at the bathroom door. My heart picked up speed, tapping steadily against my ribs as I grabbed a clean pair of jeans out of my bag and slid into them. “You ready to blow this Popsicle stand?”
He barked again and danced across the room toward the door again.
I couldn’t...wouldn’t stay here any longer.
Will had had his two days. And the sex had been fun. Despite Will’s initial... slip, I’d actually been looking forward to more.
Oh well, it wasn’t like he’d be stranded here. He had a cell phone; he could call someone. Besides, I had no intention of sitting in this cabin staring at him any longer, knowing that he knew all the things...humiliation made my cheeks burn. I left the thought unfinished. There’d never be a better time to run.
Glancing at the bathroom door again, I decided if I was going to leave, I should get my ass in gear. I was unused to leaving fate in someone else’s hands and tired of hiding. I packed up my stuff, slowed by fingers clumsy with fear. Grabbing Will’s jeans from the floor, I went fishing for the keys to my van, but they weren’t there. I suppose that would have been too easy.
I dove into one of his bags, and then the other, digging around until I finally came out a winner.
“Come on, Scamp.” My own bag slung over my shoulder, I darted out the door. My heart pounded in my chest; the keys were slippery in my sweaty hands. Will would kill me if he caught me. Maybe not literally, but he’d want to, so time wasn’t on my side.
I scooped Scamp up and threw him into the van along with my bag and climbed in. Slamming the door, I shoved the key in the ignition.
The engine turned over but didn’t catch. “Please start, please, please start!” I pumped the gas a few times, praying I didn’t flood it, and tried again but it still didn’t catch. Now all of me was shaking, and Scamp danced around in the passenger seat. The achingly hot steering wheel was slippery against my palm. “Yeah I know, dude. I’m trying!”
I slammed the door lock down with my elbow, praying if Will came out, he’d go for my door and not one of the others as I tried yet again. The engine whined, struggling to catch.
A “Hey!” sounded from outside the van.
My heart caught in my throat at the sight of Will in the side-view mirror. He stood on the porch in nothing but a towel, a frown on his face. His mouth was open and for a second, I hesitated.
“Please God, let it start! Please, please, please,” I whispered. I tried one last time, almost sick with relief as the engine roared to life. Hot air came gushing out the vents and sweat trickled down my sides. I threw the gearshift in reverse and hit the gas, flying past Will, who darted down the porch steps, that tiny towel clutched around his waist. The edge flapped like a flag in the breeze.
“God damnit, Bree, stop!”
I should have known about the journal when he’d called me Bree...that second time in bed. I shut out the visual of us having sex spoon-fashion. I didn’t need those sorts of distractions right now.
I glanced back, hit with a brief pang of conscience, but stopping was not on my agenda. I threw the van into drive and took off down the dirt road toward town.
Twenty agonizing, gut-wrenching minutes later, I breezed through the tiny town of Buckshot, Texas, my eye on the speedometer. The last thing I needed at this point was to get pulled over by the cops for speeding—real or imagined.
Once I crossed the county line, I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way Will could catch me. I’d left him in the middle of nowhere with no transportation. But he was a resourceful guy. He’d be fine.
And so would I, I thought as I wiped away my tears.
* * *
The summer sun was on the downward slope and doing its best to scorch my eyelids by the time I crossed the Travis County line. Austin meant I was on the home stretch of my drive. I forced my stiff shoulders to relax and my brain to start working again.
First thing first, I locked away all thoughts of Will. There was no sense in looking back.
“Back is just a waste of time, right, Scamp?” He didn’t answer, but then, I didn’t really keep him around for his conversational abilities.
Second, San Antonio seemed the most logical place to go. I couldn’t afford to piss away the seven-hundred-and-fifty-dollar vendor fee I’d paid. I really needed the money. Winter would be here before I knew it, and there were only a couple of big fairs left this season. With the price of gas, I’d need to stockpile all the cash I could, then find a place to hole up. Maybe get a job waitressing in some tiny diner, maybe an apartment. Maybe on the coast.
“Something nice.” I glanced at Scamp, who had his head resting on his paws. Someplace that allowed dogs.
With one last glance in the rearview mirror, I set the cruise control and turned up the radio, singing along with Snow Patrol.
I’d settle down for a little while. Nothing permanent, though—I didn’t do permanent—just through the winter.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Will stood at the edge of the driveway cursing a blue streak. His feet were coated with red sandy loam from running through the driveway to the road, and sore from the gravel digging into his feet. He coughed from the dust Bree’s van had left in its wake. “Fuck!”
She’d played him. Totally and completely played him. Fucked him just to get away from him.
He’d made an amateur mistake of the worst kind: He’d let his guard down.
Swearing again, he turned back toward the cabin and hobbled inside. She’d left a mess: clothes from his bags were strewn everywhere. Will grabbed the disposable cell phone then threw it down in disgust. It was dead and his charger didn’t fit—he’d already tried.
He rifled through his stuff until he found his own phone and plugged it in. He slammed the cabin door, rinsed his feet off, then got dressed and packed up his stuff. Just long enough for his phone to charge.
Will dialed Wynn’s number, wondering how long it would take his brother to come get him. And how much shit he’d get for his latest fuck up.
A recording of Julie’s cheerful voice greeted him. “Hi, we can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a message.”
“Fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” His grip tightened on the cell phone, and he almost threw it. Only the thought of being stuck with no way to get help stopped him. He tried Wynn again, in case they were screening their calls, but had no luck. Next he tried his brother John, who answered on the third ring. John was the last person Will wanted to ask for hel
p, but he had to get out of this cabin. He had to find out who was hunting him and stop them before they found Bree. He couldn’t do it stuck in the middle of nowhere.
“Hello.”
Will gritted his teeth and forced himself to speak. “I need help.”
John snorted.
“Don’t be an asshole. I need you to come get me. Where are you?”
“In Austin, looking for you.”
“Fuck.” The job he was supposed to be prepping.
“You forgot to check in with Mom.”
Will groaned and sank down at the kitchen table. How the hell could he have forgotten? “I know.”
“Wow, did Wee Willie fuck up?”
“Don’t be an asshole. And don’t call Dad. Just come get me, okay?”
“Fine. Where are you?” Was followed by something that sounded suspiciously like dickhead.
Will told him, filling him in on everything but the fact he’d had sex with Sabrina. He’d definitely never hear the end of that.
“Why didn’t you just let her go?”
“They would have killed her!”
“Not your problem.”
Will didn’t agree but kept his mouth shut. Arguing with John, who had to have the last word, was an exercise in futility.
“So how’d she get away?”
“I was sleeping,” he lied.
John snorted again.
“I called Wynn, but he wasn’t home.” You’re my second choice went unsaid.
“You didn’t try Danielle,” John said, referring to their baby sister.
“Don’t be an ass. Are you going to come get me or not?”
“Of course. Now call Mom.” John hung up before Will had a chance to thank him. Not that he was feeling especially thankful. He had hours and hours and hours to kill...at least six or seven. Despite his anger, he was worried for Sabrina, and he had no radio to break the monotony of what was going to be a very long day.
Will checked his cell phone and discovered four missed calls from his mother. It was a wonder he didn’t have more. Lots more. She usually restrained herself when she knew he was working but once a job was over, well, she turned into a typical mother hen again worrying about her chicks.
He cleared his throat, hoping he sounded normal. “Hi, Mom.”
“Willie! Where on God’s green earth have you been?”
“My phone was dead. I just now found it.” Another reason he hated lying. His mother could sniff them out like that cartoon bear sniffed out picnic baskets. The one with the friend named BooBoo.
She sighed loud and heavy in his ear. “That woman’s been calling here.”
“What?” He didn’t have to ask who. Why would have been the better question.
“Tilly. She says you have some of her stuff. I keep telling her you’re out of town on business but...”
But Tilly could be like a dog with a bone when she wanted something. If he’d taken something of hers when he left, it hadn’t been on purpose. “I’ll come home next week and try to find whatever she’s looking for.”
“Now, how’s Austin? Have you been down on Sixth Street drowning your sorrows in beer? You know she’s not worth it. She never was good enough for you and frankly, Willie dear, I never liked her.”
He rolled his eyes as a headache began to thump somewhere in the depths of his head.
“Willie? William!”
“Yes, Mom. No, not Sixth Street, just—” He sighed.
“I know it’s hard, baby, but you’ll find the right woman someday. A good woman. Now, pick yourself up and dust yourself off and put a smile on that beautiful face. Are you smiling?”
“Yes, Mom.” And he was, however briefly.
“I expect to hear from you on Wednesday before I go play Bridge.”
“Yes, ma’am. I won’t forget.”
“I love you, baby. Chin up.”
He hung up feeling guilty for lying but pleased he’d escaped their conversation relatively unscathed.
Will packed the last of his stuff and cleaned the cabin. Not that it would do much good but cleaning was preferable to pacing or sitting. A fishing show punctuated by bursts of static and the occasional roar of an outboard engine from the nearby lake didn’t do much for Will’s sanity. He practically lunged for the phone when it rang a few hours later.
“I’m just north of Ft. Worth,” John said.
“Jesus! Could you drive any slower?” Will ran a hand through his hair, wondering how much more pacing he could do.
“Hey, fuck you! I can hang up now and not tell you about the text message I just got.”
Will sank down on the bed, now made up with all the pillows and blankets in place. “Do I want to hear this?”
“Who the hell did you piss off?”
“Don’t fuck with me, John. Not now. What did it say?”
“You didn’t tell me everything, did you?”
“I told you what you needed to know.”
“Well, someone seems to think that having your girl matters to me. Why is that?” Sarcasm. Lots of it.
Will ignored it, focusing on the bigger picture. They didn’t think; they knew it would matter to him. Not John. Never mind that she’d run off and left him, Will wasn’t’ going to let anything happen to Sabrina. He’d thought that going on the offensive and letting Wynn track down the killer might be the way, but they’d been too slow. Or the killer had been ahead of him the entire time. A sobering thought.
Will had failed, and miserably so. He propped his head in his hand. “How did they get your number?” he croaked out.
“Who the hell knows, but you’re lucky they didn’t text Dad.”
Like their dad even knew how to text. He could barely use his cell phone, but Will kept his mouth shut. “What did it say?”
“The girl for your brother.” John chuckled, dryly. “I have to say, with you out of the picture—”
“Less talk; more driving.”
* * *
Two of the longest hours of his life later, headlights pierced the cabin’s windows as a non-descript sedan pulled into the driveway.
His patience worn thin, Will slammed the door behind him. The solitude, the hot cabin and his worry over Bree had worn him down.
“How the hell did you find this place?” John asked as he climbed out and stretched, sunglasses firmly in place. With the same tall, broad-shouldered build and brown hair that only differed by a shade or two, they could have passed for twins, and had on more than one occasion.
“Julie. Some friend of a friend of hers.” Will hefted his bags onto his shoulders. “Now let’s go.”
“Figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will threw his bags in the back seat as John circled around to the passenger side.
“If anyone knows about getting lost, she does.”
Ignoring his dig at their sister-in-law, who John disliked immensely—and vice versa—Will climbed in and fired up the sedan. “Let me see that text message.” John handed over his phone and Will studied it. “Why would they send it to you?”
“Sounds like someone’s attempt at making it personal.”
“Did you try and call—”
“Of course.” John glared at him, obviously insulted in his lack of faith at his brother’s abilities. “The number was no good.”
Will spun the car around and headed back toward town.
“Where...are you going?”
“To find Bree.”
“Bree,” John breathed, a knowing smile on his face and eyebrows arched.
Will smothered a groan. “Don’t start, please.”
“You can’t just take off all half-assed. You don’t even know where to look.”
“Matter of fact, I do.” He’d had plenty of time to think about it while he waited. There weren’t many places for Sabrina to run to, and he figured she’d been caught somewhere between the cabin and San Antonio. “If they’re after me, they know where she is and where she’d go. So yeah, I know where she is.�
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“So do I.” John gave him a knowing smile.
Will slammed on the breaks and the car fishtailed, nearly ending up in a ditch before it came to a stop in a cloud of thick red dust. “For someone who can’t lie to save his ass, you sure do know how to walk around it.”
“I got another text message about an hour ago.”
“And you were going to tell me this when?”
“She’s just a girl.”
“She’s—” Will swallowed the lump in his throat, “—she’s not just a girl. She’s my responsibility.” Along with a bunch of other stuff he chose not to share with his brother. “What did the message say?” If they hurt one curl on her head...fuck it. He was going to kill them. All of them. Everyone involved.
“You didn’t say we were playing Lone Ranger. You said come get you.”
“What did the message say?” Will bit out from between clenched teeth.
“Noon, tomorrow in San Antonio. Said you’d know where.”
The Ren Faire.
* * *
“I’ve got news.” Wynn skipped over the niceties and got down to business as soon as he answered the phone, something Will appreciated.
“So do I,” Will said.
“Want to go first?”
“It’ll keep.” Once they’d passed Gainesville, Will set the cruise control at seventy-five and stretched in his seat. His long day was far from over.
“Rumor has it that Dre Anderson is cleaning up after himself.”
Sighing, Will hit the phone’s speaker button so John could hear. “Dre Anderson, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Will glanced at John who shrugged. Dre had hired Will to take out Derek, his business partner. “I never wanted to take that job in the first place.” He should have listened to his gut. Not that the job had felt wrong or difficult. Dre had been a referral, an acquaintance of an acquaintance. It happened all the time, and Will hadn’t thought a thing about it beyond his gut which had tried to warn him for reasons he’d never been able to put his finger on.
