The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

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The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 68

by John W. Mefford


  “Li’l bitch thinks she can just run away after spoiling Clyde’s party. That ain’t a way to be a lady.” He pulled me to my feet and ran his tongue along my neck. It felt coarse…non-human.

  “Let me go, asshole.” I swung my elbow into his ribs. He folded, loosening his grip on my hair. I dropped to my knees, ran my hands over the rug and debris, searching for my gun.

  A shriek from inside the bedroom. I turned to see Lena racing into the hallway, both hands above her head. He wound up his arm to punch her—I had just a brief second. I whirled my legs around and connected with the back of his knee. He buckled and then teetered over like a tree that had just been chopped down.

  But somehow he threw out a hand and caught himself before he hit the floor. When he looked up, his eyes were only a couple of feet from me, his beak of a nose even closer, his nostrils flaring like those of a wild animal. He lunged out of his stance, and before I could jump out of the way, he swung his leg into my ribs. I heard a crack. For the second time in the last minute, air drained out of my body.

  “Li’l’ bitch ain’t so tough without that gun, is she?” He came at me again, kicking me in the back. I cried out, and somehow the flow of oxygen returned. I tried rolling away, but he grabbed a fistful of my shirt, picked me up, and was about to punch me in the face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the difference-maker.

  “Get the gun, Lena,” I yelled.

  She was frozen in her stance, her hands covering her mouth.

  “The gun,” I said, throwing my body to the left. His fist hit the meat of my shoulder—my muscle felt like it had been flattened. Then he dropped me to the floor.

  Now he was going after Lena. I flipped over. She’d just picked up the gun. It was shaking in her hands.

  “Shoot him,” I yelled.

  He swatted her face, sending her flying into the table.

  Pop!

  The gun went off. He screamed like a little kid, grabbing at his thigh. He fell to the floor, and his screams turned into a never-ending wail.

  I was up on all fours, Clyde just a few feet away, spit flying out his mouth, his eyes sealed shut.

  “Lena, you okay?”

  From the floor, her hand reached for the table. Heaving out breaths, she wiped blood from the side of her mouth. She pushed herself to a standing position.

  “Lena.”

  She ignored me, her eyes focused on Clyde. With a running start, she kicked Clyde in his injured thigh. He shrieked, tried to push backward with his good leg, but the couch was in the way.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, with a hand against my rib cage.

  Lena didn’t respond. Her head jerked left and then she dove on the floor, picked up the Luger.

  “Don’t kill him, Lena.”

  I heard a click. She tried, but the gun didn’t fire. “You fucking prick!” she yelled. “You’re just like your sick brother. You and Jesse can both rot in hell.” Something was off about her. She screamed something indecipherable and charged at him, wildly thrashing her arms. She connected on five, six hits to his body, but then she must have realized she had the gun in her hand. Before I could respond, she started pounding his face with the butt of the gun. At least one jab connected with his nose. Blood gushed out like someone had just popped the cork on a bottle of champagne.

  “Lena, you can’t kill him.” I got to her, tried to pull her arm back.

  “He raped me, beat me to a pulp. He needs to die, right here and right now.”

  Clyde wailed more, begging for her to stop.

  “Lena, you don’t want to go to prison for this asshole. Cristina needs you.”

  She stopped in mid-swing. The smell of blood loomed in the air as she wiped sweat from her forehead.

  “Cristina. Take me to her.” She dropped the gun and ran out of the apartment. I hobbled into the bedroom, grabbed my purse, hurdled Clyde, and followed her out the door. She was already at the steps. “Please, hurry,” she said.

  I reached for the railing when two gunshots went off behind me. I turned so fast I almost fell to the ground. Clyde was laid out across the open door, aiming right at me.

  Dammit, he had my gun! I bolted toward the steps, knowing he’d lose sight of me from the wall of apartments. I heard three more shots as I reached the steps.

  I felt all around my body to ensure I hadn’t been hit on the way down the stairs. Two more gunshots echoed in the nighttime air as I reached my car. He’d fired seven shots. I knew he was out of ammunition. I climbed into the car and tossed Lena my phone.

  “Call nine-one-one. And then call my first contact, Stan.”

  “Only if you drive me to see my Cristina.”

  We both did as the other wished.

  39

  After ten minutes in the car with Lena, I quickly concluded that she was more stubborn than Cristina. And that was quite a feat.

  Even though she looked like she’d gone ten rounds in a UFC bout, she insisted on me taking her directly to her daughter. She didn’t want to stop by a hospital and have a doctor look after her wounds. And she had no desire to go through a rape examination.

  “Take me to my daughter, or I’m jumping out of this fucking car,” she said.

  I then called Zahera and asked her to meet us at the mansion and to bring along her medical bag that I knew she kept at her condo. She asked for details, but I didn’t feel comfortable explaining everything with Lena listening in. I was afraid that the smallest thing might set the woman off, and then she’d suddenly change her mind about seeing Cristina. I couldn’t let Cristina get hurt again.

  I punched in the code at the gate to the Burchfield mansion, waved at one of the security guards, and steered the car down the winding driveway to the front of the house.

  “Who the hell is that?” Lena asked.

  Wearing nothing more than a fatigue T-shirt, boxers, and combat boots, Zeke was standing outside. He was also wearing a shoulder holster with a pistol locked in place.

  “How did you know we were coming?” I shut the door and walked around the car.

  He kept his gaze on Lena, who then said, “What are you staring at? Ever seen a woman before?”

  He approached me, but kept his back to Lena. “Z texted me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she was worried about Emma.”

  I looked at him like he was a Cyclops.

  “What?” he asked.

  “She didn’t say that, did she?”

  “Not exactly.” He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “I know about Lena…her background.”

  I could feel my jaw clench. “Warning. I’m not in a good place right now…” His eyes found my hand pressed against my sore ribs. I continued. “Unless you want me to kick you in the nuts, then you should get out of my way and allow this reunion to take place.”

  He opened his lips, but I cut him off.

  “This isn’t open for debate, Zeke.” I gingerly moved around the head of security, trying not to ignite the searing pain at my side. I found Lena looking all around at the remarkable architecture and size of the mansion, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  “How—” she started.

  “It’s a long story, but it has nothing to do with you and Cristina. You guys have enough things to talk through right now. And considering what she’s going through, she really needs her mother.”

  She nodded once and followed me to the front porch just as the door opened. Cristina, wearing a pair of sweats and white athletic socks that sported a hole in each, wiped her tired eyes.

  “Cristina, is that really you?” Lena could barely get the words out, and then she lunged across the threshold and thrust her arms around her daughter. Her wild-looking hair covered Cristina’s face so I couldn’t see an immediate reaction. Then I noticed she had locked Cristina’s arms to her side. A few seconds passed, and I began to hear sobs from both ladies. Lena adjusted her bear hug, and Cristina wrapped her arms around her mother, and they rocked from s
ide to side.

  Zeke pulled up next to me, both hands at his hips.

  “Put some pants on, will you?”

  “Do you think I can leave them alone? Emma’s bedroom is right above us on the second floor.”

  I slowly turned my head in his direction. “Do you ever stop? While you’re getting dressed, I hope you can find a bit of empathy.” His attitude was beyond my understanding at this point.

  He walked off, and I shut the front door and stood quietly by the coat closet. I pulled a buzzing phone out of my pocket. Stan had sent a text saying they’d arrested Clyde, but he had questions for me. I’d get to that piece of shit later.

  Lena pulled back and held Cristina by the shoulders.

  “Mom, what the hell happened to you?” Cristina said as she used her T-shirt to wipe tears from her face.

  Lena flipped around and looked at me.

  I said, “Jesse’s half-brother, Clyde, held your mom hostage, did some bad things to her.”

  Cristina covered her face, taking a step back. “Tell me this isn’t happening again. Tell me we don’t have another monster in our lives.”

  “It’s okay, Cristina,” Lena said, reaching for her daughter. “With Ivy’s help, we—”

  “Where’s your gun?” Cristina looked right at me. Her neck and face were on fire.

  “I don’t have it. But—”

  She threw her arms in the air. “I’m not going to sit here and let another man beat up my mom, ruin her life. I’m not going to let him hurt me or anyone else. I’m going to go get a gun from someone I know who lives on the streets, and I’m going to shoot Clyde’s dick off and then put a bullet through his skull.”

  A pit formed in my stomach. Is this the side of Cristina that couldn’t take anymore of Jesse’s abuse? Had she actually killed him? A hint of doubt creeped back into my mind, though it was hard to blame her if she had.

  I could see Zeke, now dressed in cargo pants, pulling up on the other side of the foyer. He’d heard her entire blow-up.

  “Cristina, give us a second to explain, will you?” I pleaded. As I walked toward her, I could see headlights shining through the front door windows.

  “What’s there to explain?” Cristina said, now gasping for breaths, scooting farther away from her mother and me.

  I wondered if Zahera might need to administer a sedative.

  “The cops arrested Clyde,” I said.

  Cristina stopped moving, then lifted her eyes to me.

  “It’s true. Your mom and I still need to give statements to the police, but he’s going to jail. He’s not going to hurt your mom again.”

  She closed her eyes and tears began to fall down her cheeks. Lena took a couple of steps and put a gentle arm around her daughter. “It’s all going to be okay, Cristina.”

  I turned back to the door and saw Zahera walking up. I opened the door. She eyed the ladies and Zeke, then whispered to me, “What did I miss?”

  “Everything. Give them a minute, and then you can treat Lena’s wounds.”

  Cristina put her head on her mom’s shoulder and cried. Lena said, “It will be okay, my daughter. Your mother is finally back. I’m so sorry I abandoned you all these years.”

  I felt a lump in my throat.

  Zeke stepped forward, handed Cristina a handkerchief.

  “Isn’t he chivalrous?” Zahera said.

  “If you think so, that’s all that matters.”

  Zahera arched an eyebrow. Apparently, she was still smitten with Zeke. While he’d shown signs of actually being more human and less of a security robot, I knew he had Dillon’s back no matter what. His judgment was clouded by money, which seemed to be the status quo for anyone on Dillon’s payroll, if I were to believe what Cheryl had told me just a few hours earlier. That reminded me—I had one more stop to make tonight.

  Cristina gathered herself, wiping her face and taking in a few deep breaths. “Sorry about my outburst. I just thought the worst. And…you know.”

  “We get it. Nothing to apologize for,” I said.

  Zahera walked around me to reach Lena. “Zeke, can you get us an ice pack?”

  He ran off as Zahera guided Lena to a chair in the kitchen. The rest of us followed.

  “How’s Emma?” I asked Cristina.

  She walked over to the island and held up the audio monitor. “You can hear her soft snore.” I put my ear to the device and heard it.

  “Ouch, you’re hurting me.”

  Cristina and I turned around to see Lena holding an arm away from Zahera. We both walked over to the table.

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  “She’s pouring alcohol in my cuts, and it stings like a motherfucker. No way she’s getting near me.”

  Zahera pressed her lips together, trading glances with me and Cristina.

  “Mom, Zahera is a great doctor. She’s just trying to make sure you’re getting proper treatment. Will you let her do her thing, please…for me?”

  Mom and daughter locked eyes. “Okay, I’ll deal with the pain. I guess it’s nothing compared to that bullet I put in Clyde’s leg,” she said with a loud hoot.

  “There was a shooting? What the hell? Both of you could have been killed.” Cristina turned to me.

  “It’s a long story, but your mom basically saved us from being assaulted, or worse.”

  Lena smiled. “He got what he deserved, if you ask me. But I wouldn’t be sitting here if the lady with the frizzy blond hair didn’t have the balls to come rescue me.” She wiped a tear from under her eye. “I owe my life to you, Ivy.” She gripped Cristina’s arm. “And now I get to have my life with my daughter. I feel like I’ve been resurrected.”

  Cristina shot a glance at me, then brought her mother’s hand to her face. “I wasn’t sure if you knew or not.”

  “Know what dear?” Lena’s bruised face grew tight.

  “Our little family reunion… It might be short-lived.”

  “Stop talking in circles, Cristina. Tell your mother what’s going on.”

  I could see Cristina take a hard swallow.

  “I’ve been charged with killing Jesse.”

  “Killing Jesse? He deserved to die, but why would they think you did it?”

  Cristina got choked up. I jumped in and explained how Jesse lured Cristina to the woods, attacked her, and how she fought back…up to a point. I kept any doubts I had about her innocence to myself, at least until I was able to gather more information—if I could find more evidence. I could only hope that Stan had convinced Moreno to review the video from that night from the nearby schools. That might be our only way to prove there were other people in the area. Even then, that wouldn’t necessarily provide direct evidence of another person killing Jesse.

  “My little girl…” Lena pushed past Zahera, rose up, and held Cristina’s face. “That was self-defense. Any moron could see that. He attacked you. The authorities understand that, right?”

  “The charge is manslaughter. I could still go to prison for a long time.” She closed her eyes, obviously trying to keep her emotions under control.

  Lena tried to embrace her daughter, but Cristina turned around. “I need some air. I’m going to get a drink,” she said, shuffling over to the sink.

  “Good idea, Cristina,” Lena said. “I could use a stiff one about now.” I followed her eyes to Zeke leaning against a back door that looked out onto the grounds. He was either busy checking email or acting like he was. “Hey, Combat Boots, can you get a lady a drink? I’ll take anything you got, even black label beer.”

  “Mom, you know you can’t have that.” Cristina flipped around with a towel in her hands. “If you have one, you’ll have five. And then you’ll want something to pick you back up. The cycle will never end. You can’t have the first drink ever again. Do you hear me? You can’t do it. Tell me you won’t do it.”

  Lena lifted her chin, as if she were about to launch a protest. Her eyes darted from side to side, as if she’d suddenly noticed it wasn’t just the two
of them in the room. “I think I’ll pass on the drink. Anyone got a cigarette?”

  Everyone shook their heads. Cristina poured herself some water and took a sip. Then she anchored her arms in front of the sink. I walked up to her and put my hand on her back.

  “You doing okay?”

  “It’s just—” She caught herself from finishing her thought.

  “What? Tell me.”

  She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. I pulled a lock of hair away from her mouth.

  “It’s just all too much. Jesse attacking me, the arrest, and jail for a night. And now Mom. It’s almost like she’s come back from the dead. Thank you, Ivy. Even if I have just a few days of freedom, it will be really cool to spend them with Mom. Sober Mom, if I can help it.”

  “You will have more than a few days.”

  “I don’t think so. The DA filed the charge. The cops aren’t going to do squat. I’m toast.”

  “You catch up with your mom. I’ll figure out something. You’re not going to prison, do you hear me?” I hugged her.

  A moment later, Zahera was on top of us. “Girl power,” she said.

  I left the mansion five minutes later thinking it might take Wonder Woman to keep Cristina out of prison.

  40

  I could feel Stan’s intense frustration just by reading his two-word text.

  Dammit Ivy!!!!!!

  He was pissed that I’d left the crime scene at Lena’s apartment, although when he heard the details on how Clyde tried to gun us down as we were running for our lives, he gave me a pass. But he’d lost it when he showed up at the mansion to take statements from Lena and me only to learn that I’d left fifteen minutes earlier to run an “urgent errand,” as I’d told the ladies and Zeke.

  He then bombed me with text after text, essentially saying he couldn’t continue covering for me with his police colleagues. That I needed to follow the rules like everyone else. And if I did, then the wheels of justice would move that much faster. I provided one simple text back to him:

  Clyde is guilty as hell; ur statement can wait one hour.

  And that was when I received the “Dammit Ivy” text.

 

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