“Bullshit,” I said bravely.
Her laughing stopped. “Do you really want to piss me off?”
“Just leave her alone,” Denver’s voice shook.
“Stop being so darned chivalrous. I remember you, Denver, and you ain’t chivalrous. You’re a goddamn bastard. Like the rest of them.”
Like the rest of them.
I narrowed my eyes.
“You mean Hank and James, don’t you?” I asked quietly.
She shoved the gun hard into the back of my head. I blinked, wincing at the pain, but I didn’t move.
“You’re forgetting Frank Bishop. Though they haven’t found that body yet.” She sounded momentarily triumphant, but then she rammed the gun hard into my head again. “Are you going to try and figure out why I did it, Patti Smith? Are you moving out of self-help books into mysteries?”
I kept on holding onto that pin.
I’d get my chance.
I’d have too.
I had to keep talking. Distracting her. It was my only hope. If I were lucky, the police would arrive. I’d warned them that my car was waiting by the driveway. They just had to hurry.
“Do you want me to figure out why you did it?” I stalled for time.
This elicited another laugh. “You think you’re that good? Patti, sweetie, I’ve read some of your books, and you’re a goddamn idiot.”
I was used to receiving criticism, but not at the end of a shotgun.
I let it slide.
“They hurt you, right? James and Hank and Frank and Denver – they hurt you in some way, and you’re getting revenge. They broke your heart. Now you’re breaking theirs, literally.”
“Don’t you try this police psychology bullshit on me. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to have your feelings toyed with, to try your hardest to be nice and decent only to repeatedly hear you aren’t worth it. The bitches like Nancy get to live happily ever after, while I keep people together and get nothing for my troubles. Do you know how many times I helped James with his homework? Do you know what happened when I asked him out to the dance? Guess. It was the same with Hank and the others. God, I tried my hardest to be nice to them, to look out for them, to do what was right and decent,” Annabelle’s voice became tense and tight. Then she took a step back and swiveled her gun over to Denver. “Do you know what it’s like to live right but be rewarded with nothing but contempt? Fuck you for ignoring me, Denver, you were never worth it anyway.”
I had to distract her.
In a split second I saw the look in her eyes and I knew she was going to pull the trigger.
“Actions have consequences, Denver Scott. You should have been nicer to me in high school,” Annabelle leveled the gun.
“Isn’t it all in the past?” I shouted. “I might write bullshit advice on romance, but I feel obliged to point out one thing. Get over it. High school was a long time ago.”
She turned her gun back on me.
That’s when I acted.
That’s when I turned around.
That’s when I brought the pin out, twisted to the side, and stuck it hard into the back of her hand.
She let off a blast of the shotgun, but it missed me, it missed Denver, and it lodged into a tree a couple of feet away.
Bark spewed out as Annabelle screamed in pain and dropped the gun.
I fell to the ground.
I tried to grab the gun.
She clutched at my neck.
I elbowed her hard, but she was stronger than me.
She was also completely unhinged.
Gasping as her fingernails dragged across my flesh, she managed to grab the gun.
I heard Denver try to move, but he couldn’t pull himself forward.
I had nothing.
Apart from the pin.
I turned on her again and somehow managed to jam it back into her hand.
She dropped the gun.
I grabbed it.
Somehow.
I pitched backwards and rolled several feet down the hill until my back slammed up against the very same tree that had been shot.
I heard her dash forward.
I raised the gun.
Sirens started to blare in the distance.
I could hear tires crunching up the driveway.
It distracted her.
I’d never used a gun before.
Then again, before I’d come back to Wetlake, I’d never had a fling with a man like Denver either or tracked down a serial killer in the woods.
I shot the ground by Annabelle’s feet.
She jumped back.
Pushing into the tree behind me, I managed to stand, holding the gun and pointing it right at her.
She stared at me. I mean her eyes locked onto mine.
It was one of those moments impossible to forget. When the doors to someone’s soul dropped wide open and you managed to see what was inside.
Desperation.
Twisted desperation.
And soul-crushing loneliness.
Annabelle was a broken woman.
....
I heard cars screeching to a halt, I heard people race our way, I heard guns cocking, and I heard people scream as they told me to lower my weapon.
“It’s not her; it’s Annabelle,” Denver managed, still trying to push himself up, yet falling flat on his face repeatedly.
I put the gun down.
Then I glanced over at him.
With his face pressed into the leaves and dirt, he stared back at me.
Again I enjoyed a rare moment of staring right into someone’s soul.
This time I didn’t see something that was broken.
I’d been wrong about Denver.
He wasn’t warped.
I’d never seen warped and broken before today.
He was just complicated.
So was I.
I was also quickly revising my golden rule.
You could have a successful relationship with a complex guy, as long as he was Denver Scott.
Chapter 21
What happened next happened quickly. Annabelle was handcuffed and loaded into the back of a squad car, while Denver was taken to hospital, his brother riding in the ambulance with him the whole way.
As for me, I was questioned, extensively, and eventually found myself all the way back where everything had started.
The Lake Motel.
In the same damn room.
Staring at the same damn walls.
Waiting for the same damn man.
Two days after the incident, I woke up from a brief nap to insistent knocking on the door. I knew who it was before I opened it.
He stood there.
His arm was in a sling and there were dressings over the back of his head and left cheek.
He certainly looked worse for wear.
He also looked intently my way.
Silently.
His lips were firmly closed and he didn’t even make the slightest of sounds.
“Are you determined to never let me sleep?” I leaned against the open door, unable to conceal my massive grin.
His previously blank expression became slightly pink.
“You always knock on my door while I’m sleeping,” I clarified through a curling smile.
“You snore,” he pointed out immediately, “I was waking you up before you ruptured someone’s eardrums.”
“And I see getting attacked by a psychotic ex-classmate hasn’t changed your charming sense of humor.”
“Are you going to stand there berating me or are you going to invite me in?”
I paused, controlling the natural smile threatening to turn my cheeks hard into my eyes. “I don’t know, am I?”
“I’d rather not have this conversation outside.”
“Conversation? Is that what we’re doing here?”
I could see he was trying but failing to control his own grin. “I need to say thank you. And maybe I need to apologize.”
I straighte
ned up visibly. “Now this I’ve got to hear.”
“Though you contravened a direct order by a police officer and by my own brother not to go after me—”
“I saved your life,” I finished.
His eyes blazed. “You burnt down a woman’s house and could have started a forest fire.”
“Yet I stopped a serial killer.” I crossed my arms, starting to get defensive.
Apparently we were done playing.
“And stopped a serial killer,” he conceded, his voice unusually soft.
He nodded into the room, and I took a step back, watching him as he walked in and closed the door behind him.
He paused in silence for a moment. “Thorne told me you were still here,” he managed in a gentler voice. “I thought you would have gone back to D.C. in your electric blue pickup truck by now.”
I swallowed. “I think I might sell the car back to the dealership, actually. I can’t really drive it,” I admitted through a polite cough.
“I think you’re going to make a considerable loss,” Denver laughed.
I joined in.
It broke the tension between us.
Then we both petered out as we looked at each other.
“You know, we both live in D.C.,” I pointed out suddenly.
His eyebrow flicked up, but apart from that, I couldn’t read his expression. “You don’t say? Are you pointing this out for a reason?”
“Yeah, I thought you could give me a lift home,” I smiled.
“Pretty presumptuous of you. I’m a very busy guy.”
“Really, what are you doing this afternoon?” My eyes sparkled.
So did his. “I’ll have to see what offers come up.”
“You want me to say it, don’t you?” I realized with a kick of nerves.
He nodded.
“Fine, Denver Scott, stay with me. Come back to D.C. with me. Meet my dogs.”
“Is that like taking a guy home to your parents for the first time?” he chuckled.
“Better. My dogs won’t make you eat pot roast. But you can meet my parents if you want to.”
“Patti,” he took a step forward, and though he favored his injured arm, that didn’t stop him from using his good hand to trail his fingers lightly down the side of my face, “this sounds kind of serious, but you haven’t even asked me out on a date. How will you know if you like me if we don’t go out on a date?”
I snorted as I hooked my arm gently around his back.
He leaned into me and kissed my head.
“Fine, Denver Scott, would you like to go share a shitty motel sandwich with me out on the grass?”
“Wow, that sounds unforgettable,” he mouthed as he kissed my head again.
“The secret to the perfect relationship is the perfect first date, I’m told.”
“Then a shitty sandwich on damp motel grass it is.”
I pulled him into a proper kiss.
His cheek was warm against mine, his lips firm as he nuzzled into me.
Breaking away reluctantly, I suddenly got a devilish idea: “or we could drive to the back of the high school car park and snog behind the gym. I’ve always wanted to do that with Denver Scott,” I actually giggled.
He looked thoughtful.
“Okay, let’s do that instead,” he joked.
“Or we could stay here,” I breathed.
“Then we’ll stay here,” he murmured into my ear.
Before we became carried away, I coughed lightly. “You’re injured,” I felt obliged to remind him.
“And you’re observant. But why are you pointing that out?”
“Because... um, it might not be a good idea—”
“I thought we could stay inside, play cards, and exchange stories about high school. I have no intention of sleeping with you, Patti.”
I hit him ever so lightly on the shoulder.
Looking up into his eyes, I waited for another playful joke.
“I’m fine,” he said seriously. “And thank you.”
He kissed me.
We stayed inside that afternoon, and not long after, we finally left Wetlake for good.
Epilogue
I’ve been wrong about many things in life.
But sometimes all you need is to be right once and about the right person.
Denver Scott sure as heck was a complex guy.
But my teenage dreams had come true.
He was the one for me.
Thank you for reading A Deadly Reunion.
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Read on for an excerpt from
Room 89
It’s meant to be a holiday, and holidays are meant to be relaxing. Yet when Mae arrives at the Red Resort, luxury gives way to murder. When an international criminal mistakes her for another woman, Mae is plunged into a terrible adventure. With two men vying for her affections, she must figure out which one is evil before it is too late.
Continue reading for an excerpt from the novel.
I stared up at the resort with a peaceful smile spreading my lips.
I had earned this holiday, by god had I earned it.
My year had been a particularly unlucky one, and it was time to erase that memory with the golden sands of a tropical beach.
Chuckling to myself, I dragged my suitcase forward, letting the mid afternoon sunshine warm me through my thin blouse and swimsuit underneath.
I had every intention of dumping my luggage in my room and then retiring to the side of the pool with a cocktail in hand. In fact, I had every intention of spending my entire two weeks here doing just that.
When I’d won this holiday in a competition, I’d been beside myself. My first scrap of luck in several months of misfortune that had seen me lose my apartment, my job, and my dog.
But now I could put all of that behind me and snuggle up in a lounger beneath the warm sunshine of the tropics.
As I walked through the great, glass, front doors of the hotel, I looked around at the other guests milling about.
Each and every one of them looked wealthy. Not just rich, but exceedingly well off.
I saw pearls; I saw the finest silk; I saw real gold watches; I saw sodding great diamond tennis bracelets.
Money, money, money.
A part of me felt like a fraud; the rest of me just wanted to get to the free buffet before all those scrawny old ladies did.
Trundling up to reception, I waited behind a couple asking directions to the tennis court before they wandered off, no doubt laughing about their bonuses and stock returns as they did.
Smiling at the old man behind the counter, I fumbled in my bag until I brought out my passport.
I needn’t have bothered; with a wide smile, he tapped something on the computer in front of him. “Aha, you must be Georgie Kaplan. Oh wait, no, I apologize,” clearing his throat, he appeared to take a longer look at me. “Miss Mae Weathers, correct?” He fixed me with a questioning expression.
I nodded, shooting him a smile. “Damn, you’re quick. Do you have me up on a most wanted poster or something?”
It wasn’t a funny joke, but thankfully the man didn’t call security to have me escorted out. “Not at all. Here at the Red Resort, we are always prepared. Congratulations on winning this holiday, Miss Weathers. And I hope that you have a deservedly good time with us.” He offered me a low, polite nod and handed me my keys.
A deservedly good time...? Now wasn’t that a rather strange expression?
&nbs
p; Pushing it from my mind, I offered him another polite grin, grabbed the keys, and turned around for one last look at the glorious atrium around and above me before I wandered off to the elevators.
The Red Resort was enormous. Of course it was. You wouldn’t attract this much money if you were a little caravan on a nasty cobblestone beach in the middle of nowhere.
Oh no, this place was incredible. And it was way, way above my pay grade. Even if I worked the rest of my life and saved industriously, I would never be able to afford a place like this.
Thank God for mail out competitions in national magazines, ay?
Smiling to myself as I walked up to the elevators, I made a quick mental note to pluck out my camera and take photos of absolutely everything so I could send them quick smart to my jealous sister. Up in Canada and enduring a particularly wintry spring, she’d no doubt blow a gasket at my luck.
Thumbing number eleven on the elevator panel, I straightened my bag on my shoulder and waited for the doors to close.
Before they could, something unusual happened.
Somebody stuck their boot in the bottom of the doors, and there was a thump as the metal closed around it, then a courteous beep as the doors opened quickly, as if embarrassed.
Looking out, I had to stop myself from giving a quick splutter.
The boot that had stopped the doors belonged to a man that could stop a heart.
Wow... just wow.
The monstrosity of a broad-chested fellow who now walked in looked like he was fresh out of the Roman Legion.
He had tanned, almost leathery skin that had a delightful olive tinge to it. Dark stubble covered his chin and top lip, and his hair was a short, rugged black.
He also stood a good foot and a half taller than me.
In a gray polo shirt and beige chinos, he didn’t exactly look like a million bucks, especially when you factored in the rather regulation look of his simple, scuffed, brown boots. But damn, I would have taken him at any price.
I probably stared at him entirely too long, and certainly longer than the quick, calculating look he shot me. From my feet to the tip of my head, he looked me up and down and then muscled himself into the corner of the elevator.
A Deadly Reunion Page 20
