Seconds ticked by as his father stared at the ugly bruises. His expression grim, he asked, “Do you have any idea what you are asking of me? I don’t like the position you’re putting me in.”
Bret zipped his jumpsuit. Then he dropped his head into his hands. He had a difficult time keeping the tears from escaping. He wouldn’t show weakness in front of the other inmates. They would use that weakness against him. “Please, Father, help me. I have a plan. All I need from you is to get someone on the outside to help me. Someone you can trust. I’ll take care of everything on my end.”
As he did when he was concentrating, his father stroked his chin. “If the authorities find out I helped you, I could go to prison.”
Bret knew he was being selfish. Nevertheless, he couldn’t tolerate prison much longer. “You won’t get caught. I promise this will work.”
“What is your plan?”
“I’m still working on the particulars. I need another week to finalize everything on my end.” The thought of escape had him feeling more hopeful. “Choose someone you trust. Maybe someone who works for you, looks up to you. We’ll meet again next week and I’ll let you know my plans.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
It put a lump in his throat just knowing he was asking his father to break the law. “What do I have to lose? I’m not going to sit here and do nothing. Come hell or high water, I’m getting out of here.”
“Where will you go?”
“It’s better you don’t know. When the authorities start asking questions, you can be honest and say you don’t know where I am.” Bret imagined a sandy beach in the Caribbean. He could have a content life basking on a sunny beach with a gorgeous blond by his side. Anywhere was better than being incarcerated.
“Will we see you again?”
“I’ll find a way to stay in touch.” Bret placed his hand on his father’s arm. “Thank you, Father. I appreciate your help. I’m sorry I messed up.”
“Your mother and sisters are devastated.” Sebastian’s voice grew urgent. “Promise you’ll get help. I’ll not give you my aid unless you promise.”
Bret would tell his father anything to gain his help. “Yes, Father I promise. I’ll find someone to help me control my impulses. I’ll never hurt another woman. You have my word.”
****
It was eight o’clock by the time Lacy arrived home. She opened the door to the overpowering scent of flowers. Vases of red, yellow, pink, purple, and white flowers filled the kitchen counter and every coffee table in the room. A wash of color tickled her senses. Lilies, carnations, zinnias, daisies, roses, and many others she couldn’t even name filled the room. Glass, ceramic, and pottery vases of various vibrant colors held dozens of bouquets of flowers.
Dylan and Michelle sat at the table eating dinner. Lacy giggled. “Let me guess. Scott sent you flowers.”
Dylan rose, moved to the stove, and prepared Lacy a plate of spaghetti. He tossed a piece of garlic bread on the plate before he placed it on the table. Lacy dropped her backpack and purse on the sofa before she leaned over the table and sniffed one of the red lilies perched in the middle of the kitchen table. “I love the smell of lilies.”
“Looks like Fireball made a lasting impression on Scott. Makes me wonder what went on in the stables.”
Dylan grunted when Michelle kicked him under the table. “They are beautiful, Michelle. Are you going to call and thank him for the flowers?”
“Are you crazy?” Her hand swept through the room. “Don’t you think this is a little out of the ordinary? What if he is insane?”
“I think he is very romantic. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you last night.”
Dylan offered, “Sometimes being in love is the same thing as insanity.”
“Love? He just met me two weeks ago. I don’t think he has had time to fall in love. He is infatuated with me.”
“I beg to differ. I fell in love with Lacy the moment I saw her. All that gold hair, long legs, perfect complexion had me hot and bothered. I lay in bed at night fantasizing all kinds of wild kinky sex.”
Lacy giggled. “You’re not describing love, honey. You are describing lust.”
“Nevertheless, I wanted you more than I wanted anything else in the world.”
A thrill of pleasure shot through Lacy. Her heart leapt with love. She leaned over and kissed Dylan on the lips. “That is so sweet.”
Obviously trying to change the subject, Michelle asked, “How was your day?”
“Difficult. I had two exams.” Lacy twirled her fork in the spaghetti, popped it into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. She closed her eyes and moaned. “This is so good.” She tore her garlic bread in half and took a bite. With their conflicting schedules it wasn’t easy to sit down and eat a home cooked meal, but they made the effort.
“We tried to wait so we could have dinner together, but the smell of Dylan’s spaghetti was just too tempting. He’s a pretty good cook.”
“It’s delicious, Dylan. I love coming home to a cooked meal after a hard day.”
“I’m working late tomorrow, so you can cook. How about Maria’s pot roast?”
“I’ll put a pot roast in the slow cooker before I leave for work in the morning.” She pointed her fork at Michelle. “Has Scott called?”
Before Michelle could answer, Dylan offered, “Only five times. Fireball refuses to return his calls.”
Michelle’s eyes went to slits. “She didn’t ask you.” She wiped spaghetti sauce from her lips with her napkin. “I have ignored his calls. He scares me a little. I’ve never been associated with a man that comes on so strong. He does not understand the word no. I think I’m going to have to take out a restraining order.”
Lacy touched her fingers to the royal blue vase holding the bouquet of flowers. “Maybe he knows what he wants.”
“How about I do a background search? Would that make you feel better?”
“People keep secrets, Dylan. Sometimes we never find out what those secrets are. I don’t think a background search will help ease my suspicions of Scott. We are not having this conversation.”
“We would like to see you find a nice young man and be happy, Michelle. We have your best interest at heart.”
“You sound like my parents.”
Lacy moved to the refrigerator and got a bottle of water. She sat back down at table and unscrewed the top. Rarely did she have seconds, but Dylan’s spaghetti was delicious. After an inner struggle, she decided one more serving wouldn’t hurt. She carried her plate to the stove and spooned some pasta and sauce into her plate. “I like Scott. I admire his devotion and loyalty to his family. Last night it was evident they have a strong bond.”
Even though the guests at the party were rich, Lacy had felt at ease. Scott had questioned Dylan about his undercover work in gang activity. Everyone seemed interested and listened to every word with baited breath. No one would have suspected Dylan had once been a gang member living on the streets of Raleigh before he became an agent. They accepted him as if he were one of them. In her eyes, Dylan was better than all of them. Odds were against him but he overcame and made something of himself.
The doorbell rang. Michelle explained, “Oh, I forgot to tell you Josh’s Uncle Tate called and said he was coming by.”
So much for a quiet dinner, thought Lacy as she frowned at the interruption.
Dylan crossed the room and opened the door. Tate crossed the threshold and apologized. “Sorry to come by so late, but I need to speak with Lacy for a moment.”
Panic stirred in her belly. She had assumed the purpose of Tate’s visit involved Dylan.
He whistled when he saw all the flowers. “Are you opening a florist?”
Dylan replied, “Michelle has an admirer.”
Tate laughed. “He must be rich.”
At least six-two, Tate rubbed the stubble already forming on his chin. Dylan said he worked long hours. Lacy assumed he stopped by on his way home after a grueling day. His dark hai
r was a little rumpled, but his suit still looked immaculate. Grant and Josh were blessed with the same black hair and brown eyes. He gazed around the room before he moved to the sofa and sat down. “Nice apartment.”
Feeling a little apprehensive, Lacy replied, “Thank you.” Of course the purpose for his visit was Bret Robertson. She wondered what he had done this time. Surely, he was not being released from prison. The FBI had a boatload of evidence against him this time. He wouldn’t be getting out of prison any time soon.
Michelle asked, “Would you like some spaghetti?”
“No, thank you. Betty is keeping dinner warm.”
Lacy and Dylan moved to the sofa with Tate. Michelle busied herself loading the dishwasher so she could hear what Tate had to say.
Tate removed a photo from inside his suit jacket and handed it to Lacy. “One of the guards found this under Robertson’s cot.” It was the horrid picture of her in the red and black teddy that someone had photo shopped and distributed all over campus. “Read the back.”
Lacy flipped the photo over and read the repulsive poem Bret had written on the back. Embarrassed at the scintillating words, she felt the color rise in her cheeks. The man should write porn for sex magazines. Tears stung the back of her throat. The last line read, One day you will be mine.
Lacy handed the photo to Dylan. “We questioned Robertson’s cellmate. He thinks Robertson is planning something. Says he’s acting very strange.”
With stiff movements, Dylan placed the poem side up on the coffee table next to the gorgeous bouquet of flowers. It looked odd, beautiful and evil side by side. “Have the guards found his cell phone?”
“No.”
Dylan was mad. She could see it in his face, in his body language. It was shocking to witness the raw emotion in a man who personified control. He licked his dry lips, swallowed. “I’m tired of worrying about Robertson. The man has been a thorn in my side from the time I met him. I will not continue to live my life worrying what he will do next. Lacy is my responsibility and I will not sit on my thumbs doing nothing.”
“I’ve told the guards to be vigilant. I don’t know Robertson’s plans, but I’ll do everything in my power to find out. The best we can hope for is he will slip up and do something stupid. When he does, we can move him to a more secure prison, a facility where he has less freedom. Not even his father and high price lawyers can stop that from happening.”
Lacy’s stomach pitched and she feared she would be sick. Just when she thought she was free of Bret, he always found a way to wiggle back into her life. She got the sinking feeling that as long as he was alive he’d find a way to torment her.
****
Dylan paced the small room, too agitated to sit. Last night he had not been able to sleep because of the tawdry poem Robertson had written about Lacy. The words were etched in his mind and he couldn’t get them out of his head. The man was sicker than he ever imagined. Robertson’s obsession for Lacy was not normal.
The door opened to the interrogation room and Robertson was ushered inside. Eyes cold as stone glared at him. Robertson was chained or he was sure he would make an attempt on his life. Hatred, pure and evil showed on Robertson’s face.
The guard waited until he sat down, then connected the chain around his legs to the hook in the floor. Dylan fantasized that Robertson wasn’t chained. Nothing would give him more pleasure than to have a good brawl. It would help to relieve some of the pent up tension. That was one thing he missed about undercover work. If the tension became too much, he could use his fists to relieve that tension. Because of his new position, he was mostly investigating murders. He never discussed it with Lacy, but some days he was bored out of his mind.
The guard exited, closing the door behind him. Now that he was alone with Robertson, he wondered if it had been a good idea to come alone. He considered the man his worst enemy. Images of wrapping his hands around his neck and strangling him kept running through his mind.
Robertson had beefed-up since the last time he saw him, proving he was taking advantage of the prison gym. His blond hair was longer and touched the collar of his orange jumpsuit. He was sporting a goatee and a mustache. It gave him a tougher appearance. He no longer looked like the boy next door.
“What do you want?”
Dylan opened the file he had brought with him. He tossed the photo of Lacy across the table. The chains around Robertson’s wrists jangled when he lifted the photo. “Have you forgotten? I’ve seen it.”
“Turn it over.”
Robertson’s face paled when he saw the poem written by his own hand on the back of the photo. “Where did you get this?” It came out in a whisper.
“One of the guards found it under your cot mattress.”
He sobered quickly and the sarcasm was back in his voice. “So that’s what happened to my photograph of Lacy. I wondered how it just disappeared. I assumed one of the guards took it for their own pleasure. Some of them are no better than the criminals they are hired to keep in check.” He flipped the poem over so he could see the photo of Lacy. “It is the only stimulation I have when I lay on my cot at night. She is one of a kind.”
“Yes, but not your kind.” Dylan clenched his hands into fists to calm his temper. When he felt in control, he reached out and snatched the photo out of Robertson’s hand. He placed it back in the file because he couldn’t tolerate looking at the photo or the disgusting poem that had caused Lacy so much pain.
“You know something can happen to you. All I have to do is put the word out and you’re as good as dead.”
His lip curled and he shrugged his shoulders. Angry color showed on his face. “You can’t threaten me. You could lose your position at the FBI.”
“I can make all the threats I wish. No one is observing or listening to our conversation. It’s just you and me. Look around. There are no mirrors.”
Robertson sneered, “Idle threats. You can’t do anything to me.”
“Don’t test me. You have no idea what I’m capable of. Crossing me is the worst thing you could do. You defiled women and in my book you’re no more than a mongrel dog that needs to be put down. You attempted to defile my woman. If I were you, I’d be terrified.”
Robertson raised an eyebrow in that cocky way he did to prove he wasn’t intimidated. “You wouldn’t dare do anything to me!”
“Watch me. I have no qualms about having you killed. Leave Lacy alone or I’ll put an end to your already miserable life. No warning, I promise you I will not sit by and let you hurt Lacy. She hates you. You are obsessed with a woman that loathes you.”
Dylan watched every drop of color fade from Robertson’s face. His words had affected him in the worst way. “Lacy does have feelings for me. You cannot convince me otherwise.” He gripped his hands into fists. “She was almost mine. You stole her from me.”
“You’ve told yourself that lie for so long, you are beginning to believe it.” Dylan leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Lacy was never yours. I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never get out of prison.”
Cold fury in his eyes, Robertson snapped, “Do you honestly think I would take your threats seriously? Your attempts at intimidation are not going to work.”
“I don’t make empty threats. Don’t underestimate my reach. While you’ve been handed everything, while you were being pampered and coddled as a child, I was living on the streets. I have worked for all I have, but those connections I made on the streets are strong. I can have someone shank you in the back and the authorities will never know I was responsible. I protect what is mine.” It took every effort of will he possessed to keep his hands off Robertson. “No more poetry, no more phone calls. If you have fantasies, keep them to yourself.”
Hoping he got his point across, Dylan shoved back his chair and crossed to the door. He opened it and stood in the doorway. Before he crossed the threshold, he turned and added, “I have a way of knowing everything you are doing. I’m going to be all over you like stink on
shit. Don’t mess up again.”
Robertson spread his elbows wide and propped his chin on his clasped hands. It didn’t help his pride that he had gone from a rich, powerful man with the rest of his life ahead of him to a man who had lost his freedom. It tortured him to no end that someone like Bauer, someone beneath him, had just threatened him while he could do nothing.
Bauer had no idea of his plans for escape. He refused to accept his existence in this hell hole. He smiled. Tables would be turned when he killed Bauer. If his strategic plans worked, the guards would not know he had escaped for twelve hours. That would be enough time to take care of Bauer and then Lacy. She should never have spurned his love. Now both would pay with their lives.
****
Michelle smiled when Beth handed her the stack of papers. “Will you please file these?”
“No, problem.” She placed the papers on the desk. “Thanks for letting me work part-time. I can really use the money.” Michelle preferred to pay rent to Dylan even though he insisted there was no need. Her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow her to take charity from anyone. Also she needed to pay Lacy back for the expensive dress she bought to wear to Sherry’s birthday party. She couldn’t believe she paid so much money for a fancy dress she would probably never wear again. She must have had a moment of insanity.
“Thank you for helping out. Tina and Mattie are on vacation and we can use the help.”
Timothy Maynard opened his office door and swept into the room. “Luscious locks, will you please take my messages. I’m going to lunch.”
“Sure.” Most comments about her hair upset her. Not Timothy’s. He was so charming and entertaining she could never be angry with him. Before Beth opened her small law firm in Taylorsville, she had worked at Phillips, Robbins, and Daniels, a prestigious law firm in Raleigh. Timothy had been her assistant. Now that she was doing well, she had hired him to work for her law firm. Beth described him as brilliant, and a real asset to the firm.
Blood of the Falls (Twelve Oaks Farm Book 4) Page 17
