As he watched the two of them together, he finally understood just why he had to carry out his plan. Sure, to the casual observer he hated William Hartman for taking his business, but to someone who paid closer attention, well, that kind of person could see that his hatred ran deeper than that. When that bastard Hartman stole his business, that wasn’t all he’d taken. He’d taken everything: his livelihood, his family, and his home. He could’ve replaced the business, he could’ve built another one, and, hell, he could have even built another house. But what most people didn’t understand was that the son of a bitch had stripped him of every last shred of respect in his family’s eyes when he’d taken his ability to make a living. Scott Hammons was a pillar of success before all of this happened. He’d worked so hard to build the life he was able to give his family. His children went to private schools, while his wife went to the country club. They went on exotic vacations, while he stayed behind to tend to the business. Sure he missed out on a lot, but everything he did and all of the hours he put in were for them. It had always been for them. When the business started going downhill, as the profits decreased slowly, the amount of alcohol he consumed steadily increased. They said he burned too many bridges when he was drinking. They said he had a problem, and before long, he found himself voted out of his own company. HIS OWN COMPANY! The company he’d spent years of his life building. And they’d ruined it. They had fucking ruined it—his life’s work. They staged an intervention and sent him off to rehab, even talked his family into being a part of it; otherwise, he never would have gone. Everything really was for them. But he did agree? He did! And what did it cost him? EVERYTHING! They said he was incapable of making sound decisions because he was a drunk, and then they stole his company right out from under him.
As the money dried up, his wife left and his children stopped calling. But why wouldn’t they? He hadn’t really known them. He didn’t even know his own wife anymore. He’d spent most of his life working, working for them. But his children, now grown, no longer needed him, especially now that the money was gone. He’d missed everything. Everything that was and wasn’t important, he’d missed it all. AND FOR WHAT? For a man like William Hartman to come in and take what little he had left? Now, seeing the way he and his little whore looked at each other made him ill. He wanted his wife to look at him like that again. Yeah, he might have worked a lot, but he had always, always been faithful, not like these two pathetic excuses for human beings. He would do anything just to have his woman look at him like that again. He longed to be respected in the public eye the way he had been once. Now, he was nothing more than a joke. A FUCKING JOKE.
If William fucking Hartman hadn’t come into buy up the last of what he had, and in such a public manner—practically proving that his wife was right, that he was a failure—then he would’ve still had a chance. He was so close to making it right when that asshole ripped everything right out from under him. Now it was time for him to understand what it was like to have everything he loved taken away. Now he would know what it felt like to be powerless as he watched it happen.
Scott sat for nearly an hour until he finally saw movement. A member of Hartman’s security, one Scott recognized well, went to the driver’s side and, after having a brief conversation for a few minutes, led Addison back to the SUV, and the two of them took off. The remaining bodyguard got into the car with William. They sat, seemingly discussing something for a moment until William exited the car. The huge bodyguard trailed not far behind but stopped at the top of the ditch as Hartman made his way down towards him. He stayed back and watched for a minute, not believing his luck. This was his chance. He heard the angels speak, and he knew exactly what it was he had to do. He reached for his gun and took that fucker by surprise, mid-piss. He forced Hartman on his knees and pressed the Taser to his neck, zapping him as the bodyguard closed in. Both Scott and the bodyguard had their guns drawn. They stood there for a second in an apparent standoff until the bodyguard slowly started moving in. Once the prick got close enough, Scott took him out with a clear shot to the chest. When the asshole only stumbled, Scott fired another shot, this time aiming for his head. Bingo.
Once he cleared the body further into the ditch, stopping a few times to wait for passersby, he shot the sedative into William’s arm just to make sure he wouldn’t be doing very much moving. Once Hartman was taken care of, he then continued dragging the heavy, dead son of a bitch until he’d made it just far enough into the woods not to be visible. He then pulled the car down a little closer and wrestled to get Hartman’s limp body into the trunk, which by the way should be noted was no easy task. And yet, it was only the beginning.
Seventeen
William came to at the sound of Addison’s voice. He wasn’t sure if it was the beatings, the Taser, or the drugs, but he couldn’t keep himself from going in and out.
“Leave my children out of this, Scott. You want to kill me. Fine. Let’s go. Let’s get this over with. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? So tell me, then, what are you waiting for?”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. You think I’m going to make all of this easy for you? The way this bastard made things easy for me? The way YOU made things easy? There’s not a chance in hell. Now I think you’d better figure out where that hubby of yours ran off to with those children of yours, because I’m guessing as soon as he hears I’m about to kill his papa he’ll happily crawl out from that little hiding spot they’re in. Oh what fun we’re going to have!”
“Fuck you. If you want to kill someone, kill me. What in the hell is wrong with you, anyway? What’s your intention here? I mean why stall? You know what I think? I think you’re a coward. You like to mind fuck people, but we both know you’re all talk, don’t we? You’re nothing more than a dried up ol’ has-been.”
William struggled to remain present, to stop Addison from antagonizing a mad man. He would kill her. He would! William knew what she was doing. She was trying to protect him. She was trying to save her family and, most importantly, her children by sacrificing herself. Goddamn him for putting them in the position in the first place. This was his mess to fix, and that’s exactly what he had to do, he told himself, as he started going under again, until the sound of the slap jolted him back into his present reality. William snapped to, rose to his feet, and lunged at Hartman only to meet the steel toe of his boot headfirst. The next thing he recalled was being hoisted up and thrown back against something hard and then dragged down a flight of stairs. He remembered hearing Addison’s pleas, her begging, screaming for him to wake up. But he just couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t will himself back to her. And he knew it was probably going to cost him both their lives.
Patrick woke the boys and hurried them to the game room through the patio doors and out onto the deck. They tiptoed down the stairs and across the lawn. He tried his best to keep them quiet, taking turns carrying each of the twins, as he pleaded with them to stop whining about the fact that the ground was hurting their bare feet. He led them to the detached garage and into the Jeep, which he planned to push out in order to remain undetected long enough to try and get far enough out of any kind of firing range before starting it up. In the meantime, he had huddled the boys into the back of the Jeep. He knew he needed to go back and help Addison and his parents, but he couldn’t force himself to leave his children. He decided that if he couldn’t get out that he would just have to ram the gate. The Jeep could handle it. He would go for help and hopefully, finally, be able to dial out on his cell phone. He ordered the boys to stay as flat as they could as he put the keys in the ignition and raised the garage door manually as slowly and quietly as he could possibly manage. Changing his mind at the last minute, Patrick decided pushing it out wasn’t going to cut it. It was too risky and not quick enough. He’d just have to take his chances, he thought as he revved the engine and pushed gas pedal full throttle.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Clearly, Scott told himself, he hadn’t thought this through very well, and the a
ngels were angry with him. The voices in his head were growing louder, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do to shut them up. They had to shut up; he couldn’t think straight with them shouting and scrambling his thoughts this way. He knew the only way to silence them was to give them what they wanted. And he knew that in order to please them it was going to mean that everyone had to die even the children, which was a pity, but what could he do?
The old man was handcuffed and tied to the pillar in the living room. And damn it if he didn’t keep complaining of chest pains. But Scott was too brilliant a man to fall for that. Based on the annoyance factor alone, it was clear that the old man would be the first to die. He’d shoot him first, and then he’d kill the whore. Lastly he’d finish off Hartman, who by the look of things was already halfway there. Then he’d set the house on the fire, destroying any evidence of him being there at all. If they did suspect him, now that the bitch had gotten away, well, they’d just think he burned in the fire with the rest of them. Plus, Penny probably wouldn’t make it through the night in that type of weather anyhow. He needed to go to the garage and collect the gasoline he’d need to do the job, but first he needed a drink. He poured himself a scotch, kicked it back, and then poured another. He’d just lifted the bottle to pour another when he heard the roar of the engine outside. Motherfucker! Dropping the bottle, he bolted towards the front door and peeked outside only to see a Jeep speeding away. This wasn’t happening. It was the voices. Scott ran full force in the direction of the Jeep and drew his gun, firing off a few rounds, aiming for the tires. He emptied his chamber but mostly missed as the Jeep swerved back and forth, in an attempt to try and evade his shots. He watched as the taillights faded in the distance. God damn it! That was it. He had to finish this thing now. The clock was running, and it was time he got on with it.
Addison huddled next to William in the wine cellar. She watched his breathing and counted the way she had when the boys had been tiny babies and she’d checked nearly every few minutes to make sure they were still breathing. Gently nudging him with her foot, Addie willed him to wake up. She figured she only had a few minutes at best to make this work. Hammons had slapped her around quite a bit and terrorized them for what felt like hours, but so far she seemed to be okay. God, she hoped Patrick had made it out with the boys. She begged to whatever God that would listen that if he’d just get them out alive then he could take her. That’s all she wanted. Please God. Addie prayed over and over to herself. Just get them out. They had to get out.
“William!” she whispered. “William!”
Finally, he barely lifted one of his eyelids. He moaned.
“William. We’re going to die here if you don’t help me. I need you to wake up. God! Please wake up.”
He opened one eye and then the other.
“William? Can you hear me?”
Wincing, he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.
“William! I have the gun. I’m going to back up to your hands as best I can, and you have to reach into my pants and pull it out, okay? And then I want you to hand it to me.”
William shifted and moaned.
Addie scooted closer. “NO. I want you to stay put. Stay put. I’m coming to you.”
She moved closer and felt his hands on her thighs.
“All right, now move your hands upward slowly. We can’t drop it. So just go slowly.”
Addie watched his huge hand slide slowly up her thigh. He reached just inside the waist of her pants and grabbed the gun. She eyed William, who was on his side. “Okay, now hand it to me.”
William didn’t move, and he didn’t open his eyes, but he held to the gun tightly. “No, Addison. I got this.”
Addie lowered her tone and gritted her teeth. “You don’t have this, William. You don’t fucking have it. You can barely keep your eyes open. Now give me the gun. I can do it.”
William opened his left eye. “I need you to trust me. I’m not opening my eyes because I’m conserving my energy, but I’m an expert marksman. You do realize that you’d have to shoot with your hands tied behind your back, don’t you? Anyway, I’m in such bad shape he won’t suspect me.”
Addie rolled her eyes. “Conserving energy, my ass. William, give me the gun!”
She watched him click off the safety and slowly, painfully roll all the way onto his back, covering the gun with his body.
Addie sighed as she heard the door fling open, and she watched her father-in-law tumble down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a thud.
“Whoops. Did I do that?” Hammons called out from above as he descended the stairs. “All right! Time to get this little party started.” He laughed, stopping directly in front of Addie. “It looks like lover boy isn’t doing too well, huh? That’s quite a lot of blood here. Impressive. Look at you. You know I’d forgotten how pretty you really are.” He taunted, taking her hair and running it between his fingertips. Addie backed away, but it only caused him to pull harder. “This pretty long blond hair. And my, my, my, those eyes. As blue as the sky, they are. Man! It’s just too bad you had to turn out to be such a little whore. You do realize that if you’d just kept your legs closed that none of this would be happening to you, right? What a foolish, foolish girl you are for believing that this bastard could love you. He used you up and then tossed you aside just like everything else, didn’t he?”
Addie remained quiet, meeting his glare head on, until he backhanded her with seemingly every bit of strength he had. She staggered a bit, and then he really let loose on her, knocking her to the ground and kicking her repeatedly. Somewhere around the third or fourth kick, Addie heard the shot fire off. She watched Hammons stagger and saw the confusion on his face. As he reached for the gun at his waist, she lunged forward and sunk her teeth into his leg, biting into it as hard as she could. He grabbed her head and tore at her hair as two more shots rang out in rapid succession. As though time had suddenly stopped, Addie watched in slow motion as the blood splattered across the room and covered her. Hammons fell forward, half of him landing on top of her, the other half falling to the floor, bouncing as he hit the ground. She squirmed, trying to push him off as he lay motionless, staring at her, a blank expression upon his face. The sound of her own screams was the last thing Addison remembered before blacking out.
Eighteen
William watched the flash of red and blue lights from windows in the back of the ambulance. He kept asking about Addison, but no one was answering with anything definite. Everything was happening so fast. Teams of law enforcement had descended on the property, and medical personnel were shouting questions at him left and right, but the only thing he could think of was her. When he’d fired the shots and Hartman went down, Addison lost it. He didn’t think she’d been hit until the screams started, and then she blacked out, and there was all the blood, so much blood that he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He’d been shaking her as best he could—considering his injuries—trying to get her to respond when the cops had come storming in, weapons drawn.
The medics rattled off his vitals as they cut his clothes from his body. They placed an oxygen mask on him and were inspecting his various injuries when an officer opened the door and started rattling off questions directed at him. William could barely breathe, and he sure as hell couldn’t speak with that damned thing on his face, so he kept his gaze focused on the lights.
“He keeps asking about the girl. You do know who this is, right? It’s William Hartman, that gazillionaire from Austin who got mixed up with that married woman,” the medic said in a matter-of-fact tone to the officer who simply nodded and continued jotting something down on his clipboard.
“What’s his status?” the officer demanded.
The medic continued trying to place the needle in his forearm and after a moment sighed. “Serious, if not critical. Likely has a collapsed lung. I suspect a head injury and several broken bones. He’s in shock and isn’t responsive other than repetitively asking after the girl.”
“
All right, I’ll meet you guys at the hospital,” the officer quipped as he backed up and pushed the door.
“Officer?” the medic called after him, his tone serious.
The officer peered quizzically around the side of the door.
“The girl? How is she?”
William turned slowly, trying to see the officer’s expression, but his head wouldn’t budge.
“About the same. That asshole really did a number on them.”
That night Patrick had spotted his mother, who was severely hypothermic and not too far from death, walking along the side of the road. He pulled over, put her in the car, and drove them to the nearest house to call for help but hadn’t spoken to her since. He hadn’t visited her in the hospital nor returned her calls. To tell the truth, at the moment, he wasn’t quite sure whether he ever wanted to speak to her again. When all the facts came out, he’d just grown more and more furious at her for what she had put his family through. He didn’t know how he could possibly ever trust her again. His father had suffered a heart attack and spent one night in the hospital but seemed to be recovering well in his temporary apartment. Patrick had heard that Penny had visited him there a few times, but from what he gathered, his dad didn’t seem ready to move back home anytime soon.
Breaking Bedrock (Book Two) Page 14
