The Devil To Pay (Hennessey.)

by Marnie Perry

  He continued to hold her tightly and stroke her hair and back murmuring words of reassurance and comfort as she sobbed out her torment and misery. He felt awkward and embarrassed but she probably couldn’t hear him anyway.

  Eventually the shuddering sobs began to subside and became gulps until eventually they ceased too and there was silence except for the occasional spasmodic hiccup. Still he did not release her but kept his arms tight around her as though if he let go she might start crying again.

  Dante who had run and hid at the first anguished cry from Adela had come out of hiding when she had begun crying and stood next to her as though he wanted to add his own brand of canine comfort to Lando’s. Now he took a step towards her then backed off as if still unsure of her or whether his proximity would be welcome. When she didn’t move to push him away he stepped forward again and licked her hand, she jumped startled and he ran a few steps back then stopped and looked at her.

  She slowly raised her head from Lando’s chest and looking over his shoulder smiled at Dante who, taking this as encouragement, came running back to them and once more licked her hand before once again running away. Adela let out a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a chuckle. She pushed herself further away from Lando’s chest and looked him in the eyes her own still swimming with tears some of which fell down her cheeks.

  He could feel her fingers digging into his back and her thighs rubbing against his crotch. By now he should have had the mother of all hard on’s. But although he felt a heat surge through him, a sweet, warm sensation, it was not below his waist that he felt it but somewhere in the region of his heart.

  To cover this inexplicable, not to say unwelcome emotion, he said business like, ‘we really should think about moving, I don’t want to face whoever might show up in this vulnerable position.’

  He immediately cursed himself for reminding her of their problems, but to his surprise she looked up at him and smiled which looked odd with the tears still staining her cheeks and her eyes all red and swollen.

  She said huskily, ‘you’re being very sensible as usual, Mr. Lando.’ Her voice sounded weary beyond measure and her eyes were almost closed. He didn’t blame her, she must be exhausted. He should be too, but he was no longer tired only invigorated. He said, ‘do you think you can walk to the cabin?’

  She knew what he meant; he needed to keep his hands free just in case he should need to defend them. She nodded, ‘yes.’

  ‘Sure.’

  She looked at him and he saw determination behind those tired red eyes. She nodded again. He put his arm around her and without hesitation she let him help her to her feet. Once up she swayed slightly and his arm tightened around her waist. He picked up his rifle and they walked to the door. Once there he called Dante who came running and they all stepped out onto the night.

  Adela felt the tension in the arm that hooked around her back and knew his eyes were moving quickly but thoroughly around. Dante got to the house first and waited for them. Lando unlocked the door and Dante went in without hesitation, proving that it was safe for them to follow. Lando closed and locked then bolted the door. He led her to the bedroom and said, ‘you really need to sleep, you’re beyond exhaustion.’

  She looked at him thinking, and so are you. She said shyly, ‘I…I need the bathroom.’

  He nodded and watched her walk unsteadily out of the room. He touched his arm where he could still feel her warmth then turned impatiently and went into the kitchen where he filled a glass of water for her.

  A few minutes later he heard the toilet flush and then the water running, soon after he heard her exit the bathroom so took the water into the bedroom.

  She was still standing by the bathroom door looking pale and half dead on her feet. He put the glass down on the bedside table and went over to her saying, ‘are you okay?’

  She shook her head as she regarded him sombrely, ‘no, no I’m not.’ Her words sounded slurred as though she had been drinking.

  He took her arm led her to the bed and sat her down; she closed her eyes as if with relief. He handed her the water and some painkillers saying, ‘you’ve had quite a few days of it, it’s no wonder you’re feeling the strain. I know some cops who wouldn’t have coped so well or lasted so long.’

  Then she surprised him by shaking her head again and saying very quietly, ‘it’s not that. He frowned. ‘Mr. Lando, I’m so sorry, so very sorry for the things I said to you, I didn’t mean them, not a word. I know you’re not what I said you were, I know you would never sell me out. And I’m sorry for what I said about your needing money for this place, I had no right to say such a thing, but I was so afraid, I didn’t know what I was saying, I know that’s no excuse but…

  He cut her off, ‘ma’am, I’ve had worse things said to me.’

  She looked at him for the first time since the barn and noticed the scratches on his cheek; she closed her eyes, ‘that’s not the point is it. You’ve been very good to me and I hurt you.’

  She looked up at him. Was that a smile on Jonas Lando’s face, not a smirk or a twitching of his lips but a real smile, no, surely not. Maybe because her eyes were so sore from crying and she wasn't seeing clearly she had imagined it. Yes, it was probably her eyes. As for Lando, again she had nonplussed him, she was so tired she could barely speak or keep her eyes open. She had a contract killer hunting her paid for by a sadistic, wealthy, well connected psychopath, and to top it all, the cops were after her. Yet her first thought had been how she might have hurt him by her words and actions. He cleared his throat as his hand went to his cheek, ‘well I think I still have some antiseptic left.’

  She smiled albeit a little embarrassedly. He said, ‘look, lie down for God’s sake before you fall down.’

  She nodded and bent to pull off the sneakers he had loaned her but he was there first and pulled them gently from her feet swiftly checking her bandages as he did so, he seemed satisfied that no blood had seeped through. He then took her feet and swung her legs onto the bed and her head fell back onto the pillows. Taking the blanket from the end of the bed and covered her with it then stood looking down on her. She looked up at him and their gazes locked and held until as said softly, ‘not that what you said in the barn bothered me, but if it makes you feel any better. I know you didn’t mean what you said; it was the fear and panic talking after those two cops showed up. That was the catalyst. You were just lashing out. I’ve been waiting it for it to happen; I’m just surprised it took so long. It’s called post traumatic stress, I’ve seen it before. So don’t worry about anything you might have said, I understand you didn’t mean it.’

  She stared at him looking for the lie but all she saw was sincerity and concern. Her eyes began to close as she said sleepily, ‘if you were anyone else I would think you were just trying to be nice.’

  His eyebrows shot up and his head jerked back but by now her eyes had closed completely so she didn’t see the grin that split his face. Then it faded to be replaced by a frown of impatience. He tried to quash the long dormant feelings of protectiveness she aroused in him as he looked down at her curled like a baby, so defenceless and vulnerable. He glanced down at Dante who was looking at him oddly, Lando said, ‘coming?’

  For answer Dante sat down on the rug at the foot of the bed and Lando after giving him an exasperated look left the room mumbling, ‘traitor.’

  In the kitchen he sipped his coffee trying not to think about what had just happened. Not her verbal attack nor her crying, but how strange it had been to hold another human being so close. To hear the thudding of a heart against his chest, to feel soft skin against his rough cheek and feel warm breath on his neck, to smell a woman’s natural scent.

  He tried not to see a pair of green eyes swimming with tears, but bright and shining and full of gratitude and how all of that had made him feel inside. He tried very hard not to think about it, but the harder he tried the more he thought about it. He had been awkward and uncomfortable holding her like that, all wrong, why
then had it felt so right. He touched his shirt front; he could still feel the damp patch where her tears had seeped through the cloth onto his skin and into his heart, which suddenly seemed to start beating again like a long dead flower miraculously brought back to life. God, where had that come from? When had he suddenly become the poet?

  He cursed vehemently and thumped his fist onto the work counter then looked quickly towards the bedroom door but he heard nothing.

  He could not believe that Dante, that nervous, timid, cowardly excuse for a dog should take such a fancy to the woman. Dante, who ran a mile at the sound of another human being in the distance had not only approached her but licked her hand, what the fuck was that about?

  He must stop thinking like this, about her, he knew what was wrong with him, he was horny, he needed a woman, any woman. Seven, almost eight years, God, no wonder he was thinking like this, like a randy adolescent.

  He threw his mug into the sink impatiently and walked into the living room area. He opened the cupboard that was built into a wall and reaching onto the top shelf pulled down a small white box. He sat down on the armchair and set the box on his lap and slowly lifted the lid. He hesitated for a few seconds before pulling the Smith and Wesson Chief’s Special from inside the box. This was not his service weapon but his own personal gun; they had of course taken his service weapon when he had been arrested along with his badge.

  He held the gun gently as though it was a precious piece of china. He checked the barrel of the Smith and Wesson to make sure it was empty then put the box on the coffee table then reached in again and pulled out a small black bag, he opened it to reveal the gun’s cleaning equipment. He turned the weapon over in his hand thinking, seven years, seven years since he had cleaned this gun, seven years since he had touched it or even looked at it, since he had used it or needed to use it.

  He felt a sudden and heart wrenching nostalgia for those times. Times when he and Dan Rivers had sat in their department issued vehicle chatting and laughing but ever watchful and wary. Times when they had watched each other's backs and covered for one another as partners should, as friends should, until he had let his partner and friend down with his recklessness and anger. He missed it, the excitement, the danger, the partnership, the friendship, the camaraderie, the company. He snatched up the bag impatiently and began to clean the weapon trying not to reflect on past times, trying not to dwell on present times, trying not to think about the woman lying in his bed.

  He stripped the gun, brushed and oiled it then reassembled it. He then checked the ammo for rust, loaded it and put it in the drawer of the coffee table. He had also found more ammunition for his rifle and put it in his pockets. Now he was ready, ready for what or who and how many he wasn’t sure but he had done all he could for now.

  His biggest worry of course was the animals, he hated the thought of them getting caught up in whatever might happen, but there was little he could do, they were too sick or too young to move. He thought once again about going into Alban and soliciting Sheriff Lomax’s help.

  But then he would either have to leave her here something he did not want to do under any circumstances. One, because she might run again, and two, she would be vulnerable and unable to defend herself against whoever might come. Or he would have to take her with him and then they would both be vulnerable to whoever might be lying in wait for them in the cover of the woods.

  No, they were on their own, or more accurately, he was on his own. Then he chastised himself for dismissing her out of hand like that, she had proved that she was more than a rash, foolhardy woman who ventured far and wide in strange and dangerous places for fun. She had proved that she was innovative and self reliant and gutsy. Valiant, that was the word that came to him. Nevertheless she had never handled a gun, the first time she had seen him with his rifle she had paled, she had been more afraid of that than of him.

  And she was weak, physically anyway, she was in no fit state to fight. No, he was on his own in this.

  After cleaning his weapon he did some chores then set about fixing the broken bookcase, something he had been meaning to do for months but had never gotten round to it, but now he needed to keep busy, he needed to keep his mind from what might happen, and from her.

  He was just sanding down the wood when he heard the bed springs squeak, a few minutes later the toilet flushed. So unless Dante had learned how to use the bathroom the woman was awake. He looked at his watch, 12.30; she had slept less than five hours, not long but better than nothing and more than he had.

  He waited for her to come into the living room; he waited five minutes, ten, fifteen. Maybe she had gone back to bed but he had not heard the bed springs again, and she was light but not that light. He couldn’t hear the water running so she wasn’t taking a shower so what the hell was she doing in the bathroom all this time? He leapt to his feet, what if she had passed out? He was halfway across the room when another even more horrible thought came to him, what if she had gone out the window again?

  Damn that woman, that crazy, impetuous, irresponsible woman. He ran into the bedroom glancing at the bed as he did so, she wasn’t there and Dante sat on the rug looking at him curiously.

  He was so angry by now, so convinced that he was right and that she’d rabbited again that he didn’t even knock on the bathroom door but burst in expecting to find the window open and her gone. But the sight that met him shocked him more than if she had been passed out on the floor or gone out the window. She stood in just her bra and jeans her hair hanging in untidy tangled waves down her back. In one hand she held a handful of hair and in the other a pair of scissors.

  CHAPTER 37.

  He stood and stared, his eyes wide his mouth open before he cast his eyes down to the sink where long pieces of golden brown hair lay in the white bowl.

  Adela had leapt back in alarm when he had burst in, the scissors raised to her head, but now she just stood looking at him with a mixture of relief and guilt and embarrassment. He dashed forward and tore the scissors from her hand, ‘what the fuck ya doin', woman?’

  She didn’t berate him for the profanity but said calmly, ‘I’m cutting my hair.’

  He gaped at her, ‘I can see that you idiot, but why? Why would you want to do a thing like that?’

  ‘I thought it was the wise thing to do, he…’ she hesitated, ‘I’ve been told that my hair is the first thing people notice about me, so it makes sense that if it’s no longer there then I won’t be so easy to spot.’

  He looked at her as he had when she had accused him of being in cahoots with Hennessey; as if she had gone mad, the anger was the same too. ‘And what else will you do,’ he snapped, ‘borrow some of my clothes and try to pass yourself off as a man?’ His eyes travelled down her face to her neck landed on her chest and stayed there, ‘well I got news for you, lady, that ain’t gonna happen.’

  His eyes found hers again and saw the moment she realised she was semi naked, he watched as the blush suffused the cut and grazed skin of her face and neck. She grabbed the shirt she had thrown onto the laundry hamper and pressed it to her chest.

  He said, ‘God, woman I thought you was crazy before, but now I think you’re plum loco.’

  She was stunned but said quietly, ‘why, why should it matter to you what I do, what I look like, whether I have short or long hair?’

  He yelled now, ‘it don’t matter, it don’t matter one iota to me what ya do or how ya look, lady. But when this is over you’ll regret it, you’ll look in the mirror and wish you hadn’t done it. You grew your hair this long for a reason, 'cos you like it, 'cos it’s...it’s…’ He paused before continuing more calmly now, ‘you’ll just regret it.’

  She was desperate to know what he had been about to say before he had hesitated. But why should he be so angry that she had been about to cut her hair.

  He pushed her aside and very gently pulled the hair out of the sink. He held it in his hand and rubbed his thumb over it before looking back at her. Then to her amazement
he pushed the hair back from her face and ran his hands down it much as he’d done to the piece of hair in the sink. Then shaking his head he said, ‘well, there ain’t much damage done, lucky I came in when I did.’

  She stared at him incredulous then asked softly, ‘why did you?’

  He frowned, ‘what d’ya mean?’

  ‘Why did you come bursting in here?’ She didn’t ask this angrily but curiously.

  He looked away and she couldn’t help it, she smiled, ‘you thought I’d gone AWOL again didn’t you?’

  His head came up in surprise that she suspected this, but also that she had used the term AWOL, it didn’t sound like the kind of thing she would say, or even know.

  But her smile annoyed him and he retorted, ‘as a matter of fact I thought you might have passed out or something. But yeah, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d taken off again,’ he looked at the scissors in his hand then back at her, ‘you seem to have a propensity for doing foolhardy, reckless things.’

  She lowered her eyes and clutched the shirt tighter to her. He felt bad now for snapping at her, but he was still recovering from the shock he had felt when he had caught her cutting her hair. Why he should care what length her hair was he didn’t know, why should it matter to him if she had hair down to her feet or was as bald as a coot? He turned to the door impatient to get away from her hurt, embarrassed eyes and from his own thoughts. Without looking at her he said, ‘take a shower, you need it, I’ll get you a clean shirt.’ Then he turned and left the bathroom,

  Left alone, Adela stood staring at the door through which he had so angrily exited. She looked down at the sink in which pieces of hair still remained; he had taken the long piece with him.

  She turned on the tap to rinse the hair away asking herself why he should be so concerned, so angry, what was it to him?