“To the last place you’ll ever see.” He pushed her toward the door. “Don’t worry, bitch, you’ll have a nice view of the river.”
His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. Lenny Perate wasn’t wrapped too tight. Her feet stumbled through the door, out into the empty hallway and to the front door. She frantically glanced around, looking for someone to help. No one was there.
The gun dug deeper into her side as his other arm wrapped around her shoulder and maneuvered her toward the alley next to the building. “This way, and don’t try to scream.” He shoved her into the alley.
A modest late-model car was parked there. Gillian eyed the vehicle and thought about the fancy European model Lenny had needed to sell to pay back support. This model was definitely a step down from what he had been driving, but surely it wasn’t worth killing someone over. He pushed her against the rear bumper, dug a set of keys out of his pants pocket and opened the trunk. He glanced around and waved the gun at her chest. “Get in.”
Gillian maneuvered the small shield to follow the gun. She didn’t want to chance an entire body shield. She glanced at the trunk and grimaced. It looked as if it had never been clean. Something slimy was spilled all over the bottom and a flat spare sat crookedly in the wheel well. Nothing else was in the dark space. No crowbar, no jack, nothing she could use as a weapon.
If she used her powers now to stop Lenny, there was an excellent chance they would backfire and cause some type of cataclysmic event right here. The people of this neighborhood could be in danger. Lenny obviously wanted to take her someplace secluded to finish her off. She’d be better off waiting until they got wherever Lenny wanted to take her. There was less chance of anybody else getting hurt that way. The small shield she had erected seemed to be working, and there hadn’t been any unforeseen catastrophe when she sent the message to Mason. But she couldn’t press her luck any further. Too many innocent people could be at risk.
The gun pressed into her stomach. “Now!”
Gillian gave him one last look before slowly stepping into the trunk.
“Lay down!”
She bit the inside of her cheek, but did as he asked.
The second she was down, the trunk lid slammed down, encasing her in darkness. She heard Lenny’s twisted laugh as he walked toward the front of the car. She felt the slight movement of the car as he got in, then the sound of the engine starting captured her attention. She knew she would have only one chance to stop Lenny when they arrived wherever he was taking her. It had better be good.
Her arms wrapped around her waist as she bounced and was tossed with every pothole Lenny hit. He was probably purposely hitting every one for her benefit. The stench of motor oil filled the trunk. She stared into the darkness surrounding her and thought of Mason and their child.
Mason looked at the lawyer standing in front of him droning on about his client’s rights and tried not to show any emotion. He was both bored and aggravated and wanted desperately to be home with Gillian. They had so much to discuss. So much to look forward to—their future.
“And,” continued the lawyer, “I would also like to point out to this court that my client…”
“Help!” Gillian’s voice erupted throughout the room. “Pregnant!” Mason stood up and glanced frantically around the courtroom. The lawyer’s voice seemed to end abruptly and Mason noticed Bill Grayman, the bailiff, come rushing forward. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the voice only he had heard. It had been Gillian crying for help. She was in danger and the second word told him why. If Gillian was really pregnant, as she thought, she couldn’t use her powers. She was powerless to stop the madman. Why in the hell hadn’t he thought of that before?
He glanced around the courtroom and noticed everyone staring at him as if he was insane. He didn’t care. Gillian’s life was in danger. He jumped down from behind his bench, pinned his secretary with a frantic glance and said, “Reschedule everything.” His black robe bellowed around him as he ran for the door.
By the time he reached his car in the underground parking lot he had the robe off and his keys in his hand. He pulled out from beneath the courthouse while dialing his home number on the car phone.
“Hello?”
“Birdie, where’s Gillian?” He joined the midmorning traffic and maneuvered around a brown delivery truck.
“She’s not here, Mason. When I got here an hour ago there was a note saying she’d be right back.”
“Is her car there?”
“No.”
Birdie sounded to be on the verge of tears. “It’s okay, Birdie. I’ll find her.” On instinct, he turned right, in the direction of Gillian’s office, instead of going straight to their home. “You have my car-phone number. Call if she returns, okay?” He slammed down the phone and concentrated on arriving at her office in the shortest amount of time. If the police wanted to give him a ticket for speeding, they would have to catch him first.
He spotted her car parked out front and parked behind it. What in the world possessed her to leave the house this morning? She had promised to be waiting for him. He opened the main door to the run-down office building and noticed her kicked-in office door. He scanned the area as he rushed into her office. It was empty, but the culprit had been there. He could feel the twisted evil vibrations still trembling throughout the room.
Gillian’s pocketbook sat on her desk, along with a pile of mail. He ignored the mail and slowly walked over to the desk. A small white plastic pregnancy test sat in the middle of the desk. He picked up the box next to the test and scanned the directions. He glanced back at the test. The pink plus sign told him he was going to be a father.
He closed his eyes and read Gillian’s feelings. Joy and happiness surrounded the test, but he picked up on her fear. His wife had been afraid when the intruder broke down the door and entered her office. She had every right to be afraid. While she was pregnant there was no guaantee that her powers would work correctly. She might not be able to defend herself or their child. He had heard stories of pregnant witches who had tried to use their powers and either couldn’t or had disturbed the world’s order of things. Would Gillian use her powers to save herself, knowing she could cause innocent people to perish?
She had sent him the message, but it didn’t even take one hundredth of her powers to send two little words across one city. Ever since their marriage, he had been able to pick up on her feelings without even trying. He had probably exerted more effort picking the words up than she had by sending them.
He closed his eyes and tried to read what Gillian was feeling or seeing. The only thing he could pick up was darkness. Gillian was probably surrounded by darkness and that was all she could see. The other option was too horrifying to consider. Gillian and their unborn child had to be safe. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to take the woman he loved away just when he found her.
He opened his eyes and glanced frantically around the room. The only chance he had of locating and helping Gillian was to read the room and pick up on some of the thoughts of whoever took her. He walked over to the door, hanging by half of a broken hinge, and touched the wood. The feeling of twisted hatred vibrated from the door. It was the same malice that had accompanied the dead rat and the box of leeches. He was dealing with the same man.
Mason stepped into the room and concentrated on that distorted mind. There had to be a clue somewhere. Beads of sweat gathered and then rolled down his face. He flung out his arms and put everything he had into wading through that twisted mind. His fists clenched and his body trembled but he continued to focus. Gillian had trusted him enough to send the message. He couldn’t afford to let her down. He might be the only chance for her survival. He was holding the cards for their future and he was scared to death of playing them wrong.
Dark, sinister vibrations filled with hatred and revenge swirled around him. He fought his way through thick tentacles of evil and became one with the man. The past played before him like a fuzzy video. He could see Gillian standing
before him trying so desperately to look nonchalant and brave. He saw how her hands instinctively covered their unborn child. His arm reached out and pulled her closer, jamming the gun into her side.
She was concentrating on the gun he held in his hand. Mason could feel the shield she erected across the barrel of the gun. She had protected herself, for the time being. He had no way of knowing how long the shield would last or if it would even work.
Her voice trembled slightly when she asked where they were going.
The man’s response seemed to come from his own lips and fill the room. “To the last place you’ll ever see. Don’t worry, bitch, you’ll have a nice view of the river.”
Mason saw exactly what the man had been thinking. The river he had been referring to was the Delaware River and the spot was an old abandoned landfill. Mason knew where the dump was because the Betsy Ross Bridge was in the distance.
Instead of breaking the contact with the past, he continued to act the part. He saw Gillian looking frantically around the front of the building as he forced her to the alley. He shuddered at her fear as she stepped into the trunk, and he heard the unbalanced laughter of her tormentor pour from his own mouth.
Standing in the alley, Mason snapped out of the past. His body trembled and his stomach rolled with nausea. He had witnessed the entire event and seen his wife’s fear. Having a glimpse of the psychopath’s mind, he now understood the man better. He wanted Gillian to die, and die slowly.
He’d kill the son of a bitch with his bare hands. Mason ran for his car, slammed his foot on the gas and punched in the digits of Jon Hall’s phone number. He headed for the river and for his wife and prayed he wasn’t too late.
Chapter 13
Mason pulled alongside of a rusty metal fence and stepped out of his car. He scanned the area, trying to decide which way to go. The aroma of decaying food and garbage rotting under the summer sun nearly knocked him to his knees. It took him a moment to block out the stench and concentrate on Gillian. All he could pick up was darkness and the faint sound of a child’s lullaby. His heart contracted with the thought of Gillian being locked in that filthy trunk softly singing a lullaby to their unborn child. He was personally going to wrap his hands around the psycho’s throat and never let go.
He scanned the area and picked up the demented ravings of the man who took his wife. He quickly got back into his car and drove along the road bordering the fence. Nearly a thousand yards passed before he spotted the opening Gillian had been driven through. He turned in and followed the rutted path between mountains of garbage.
The Betsy Ross Bridge was in the distance and he could feel Gillian’s presence close by. He stopped the car and quietly got out and followed the rutted lane on foot. When he rounded the third pile of garbage he quickly hid behind a decrepit recliner. A fat, beady-eyed rat scurried away, giving him pause to wonder if this was the place the psycho had trapped the rodent he delivered to Gillian.
Ahead of him was the same late-model car he had seen in his vision. He watched as a lanky man got out from behind the wheel. The man didn’t look like a psycho. He reminded Mason of an office worker or salesman slumming for the day. The gleaming metal of a gun, tucked into the waistband of his jeans, spoke differently.
The clean-cut man glanced around before heading for the trunk. To throw a shield around Gillian, he had to see her. The metal of the car was preventing him from protecting her. He positioned a shield around the gun.
Mason anxiously waited as the man opened the trunk, waved the gun and then stepped back. He couldn’t hear the words the man used, but he recognized the tone. Gillian sat up, covered her eyes from the light of the sun and then slowly got out of the trunk. Mason threw a shield around her so thick that if a Sherman tank ran her over, she wouldn’t suffer so much as a headache. He could tell she felt the shield go up. She glanced around, as if looking for him, before smiling at the man and the gun pointed at her chest.
Gillian looked at Lenny and his measly little gun and chuckled. Mason was here somewhere, she hadn’t spotted him yet, but she could feel his shield surrounding her. He had heard her and had come running to her rescue! She wouldn’t have to chance using her powers and hurting any innocent people. She held up one finger to signal Mason to give her some time. There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask Lenny. If things got out of hand, all she had to do was stand back and watch Mason go to work. She softly chuckled and started the show.
Lenny waved his gun threateningly. “Stop that. Are you too stupid to realize you’re going to die?”
She shook her head and suppressed the laughter, but she couldn’t hide the merriment in her eyes. Mason was going to chew this guy up and spit him out, and all because of her. Mason cared! The shield surrounding her was not only for protection, but it was warm and soft, and made from love. She could practically feel the love.
“Put down the gun, Lenny, before you get hurt,” she said. Lenny was playing with a very dangerous stick of dynamite called Mason, and the fuse was burning low. She didn’t want to see Lenny or anyone else get physically hurt, but she knew he needed some major help and he had to be put someplace where he wouldn’t terrorize anyone else. By the look of madness clouding his eyes, it appeared Lenny still wanted to end her life.
“You’re crazy, bitch.” He took a step closer. “You and your new husband ruined my life! Do you think I would allow you to get away with that? I thought about killing the judge, too, but I figured it would be harder on him if he lived and you died.” He gave her a smile that would have chilled her blood if it weren’t for the shield. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over Blacksword. I’ll make sure he knows exactly how you die, and how long it took.”
“Listen, Lenny, I didn’t ruin your life. You left your ex-wife and four children without any financial support. Carolyn was so late in the mortgage payments, she was about to lose the house. Didn’t you care what happened to your children?”
“No, they were all just like Carolyn, always wanting something. Susan needed braces and Scot was always at the doctors sucking my money away before I even had a chance to earn it. The washer was broke, the bathroom sink leaked and Carol wanted ballet lessons!” Gillian cringed slightly as his voice rose with each sentence. “It was my money! I earned it, it was mine! I put up with an obnoxious boss all day long and then I had to go home to that house and listen to them whine all night long.”
Gillian felt compelled to say, “Carolyn worked, too.”
“So what? You call waiting tables work?” He snorted at the very idea. “They were her little babies, let her support them. I wanted out and I wanted my life back.”
“So you walked?” She knew the heartache and misery Carolyn and the children had suffered. She also knew the receipt of the back child support had relieved most of the pressure.
“Not right away.” Lenny chuckled and puffed out his chest. “I needed to make some plans first.”
It struck Gillian that something wasn’t right. If Lenny had just walked away, he wouldn’t have remained a shoe salesman. But when she tracked him down, he had been renting a luxury apartment, had a boat parked at the marina and he had been driving an expensive foreign sports car. The boat, car and Lord only knew what else had come from an uncle’s estate. He also had a girlfriend named Charmaine. “How did your uncle die, Lenny?”
He gave a chilling laugh that made her blood freeze, shield or no shield. “So you’re not so stupid, after all.” He nodded his head as if in approval. “Poor, dear Uncle Ed.” He shook his head sadly, but the grin stretching his mouth dispelled the illusion of sadness. “He should have known better than to smoke in bed.”
“You set the fire, didn’t you?” If he killed once to obtain the boat and car, he’d surely kill again because she took them away from him.
“Bingo!” Lenny grinned. “But first I had to do a little safecracking. I didn’t take it all, just a nice, tidy little nest egg to hold me over. I didn’t want to make the police suspicious when the
y investigated after the fire.”
“Where’s Charmaine?” She wondered how much Lenny managed to steal from his uncle’s safe.
His grin disappeared. “She left me about a week after the car and boat did.”
Gillian refrained from commenting on Charmaine’s loyalty. She also knew from the court records that Lenny had been forced to give up the luxury apartment and move into a more modest dwelling once the child support was taken directly from his pay. She could see where the illusion that she had ruined his life had come from. In Lenny’s mind he had lost everything.
“Lenny, do yourself a favor and place the gun in the trunk and back away from the car.”
A laugh emerged from his mouth. “You’re something, lady. You spend your time destroying my life…”
“I spend my time helping women get support they need from you and men like you.”
Lenny shook his head. “Who’s going to help you?” He took another step closer. “I’ll tell you who. Nobody! Your precious husband’s in court, probably busy ruining some poor slob’s life. You should have minded your own business and stayed out of mine!”
“You should have been more of a man and supported the children you helped to bring into the world.”
She had been watching the trigger of the gun, to see if her comment would push him over the edge. If she had been watching his other hand, she would have seen the hand coming and stepped back. Instead, his left fist swung at her face and crashed into the shield. Gillian, startled by his sudden movement, lost her balance and landed on her backside. It was like falling onto a feather bed. Mason’s shield cushioned her all the way down. Not one hair on her head had been mussed.
Lenny howled as he cradled his fist. Gillian glanced up in time to see the change come over him. One minute he was moaning about his hand and the next he was staring in horror at something she couldn’t see. His mouth opened in a silent scream and his features contorted grotesquely. The gun dropped from his right hand and he started to brush frantically at his arms and legs.
His Chosen Bride Page 20
