Usually his humor makes me laugh, but all I can think about are the filthy things he said to that woman. “Long line.”
“Everything okay?” His blue eyes darken and concern highlights his words.
I smile. Hopefully it looks more genuine than it feels. No one can sniff out a fake like another fake. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Yeah, Ryan. Go ahead and answer that one.
Intermission ends, saving me from any kind of explanation. The show progresses, but I barely notice. All I can think about is the snake with his arm draped across my shoulders.
How should I confront him? Ask who he was talking to earlier? Try to trap him?
The show ends before I reach a solid conclusion.
We walk to his Corvette in silence. He opens my door for me and I slide in, smoothing my lacey black skirt around my legs as he walks to the driver’s side and climbs in.
The engine comes to life with a throaty roar. We drive a few blocks before he breaks the silence.
“So what’s going on? You’ve been distracted all evening.”
Has he always sounded so whiny? Or am I finally paying attention enough to see him as he really is?
I grab the first excuse that comes to mind. “Dad and I had another fight yesterday.”
He glances over at me. “About your job? Well, you know I agree with him. You should be doing something safer. Like working at his company.”
Scorn laces his words.
I should’ve known better than to expect anything less from him. He’s been on my dad’s side from day one.
Or at least pretended to be.
“Forget it.”
Rain patters the windshield and he turns on the wipers before looking at me in wide-eyed innocence. “We want what’s best for you.”
What’s best for me? What’s best for me! He wouldn’t know it if it smacked him across his smooth-skinned face!
I can’t take this anymore.
“Oh, yeah? You sure that’s all you want for me?” I repeat to him the vile things I overheard him say to the other woman on the phone, keeping my gaze locked on his face.
His eyes widen briefly and even in the dim light, I can see his face whiten.
Only a second passes before he masks it. His smile morphs into a wolfish grin as he turns his head toward me. “Why, Miss Parker. I didn’t know you had that in you.”
As specific as that was, he really thinks he can turn this on me?
His hand lands on my thigh. “I’m game. My place or yours?”
I smack his hand away. “How dare you!”
“Hey, you suggested–”
“I heard you on the phone! You slime-sucking serpent! You’ve been using me this whole time.”
The confusion on his face is almost believable. “Audra, are you okay?”
“Am I okay? You’ve been cozying up to me for who knows what reason, all the while keeping your slut on the side.”
“I really don’t know–”
“Stop lying! I heard you! Talking to her. The whore that you’re in love with–” I do nothing to mask the derision overwhelming me, “–the one you call ‘babe’ as you string me along.”
Red flares across his face. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way, you rich little brat.”
At least now he’s being honest.
“Stop the car. I can’t stand the sight of you.”
“Gladly.” He slams on the brakes. The tires squeal on the wet pavement.
My body flies forward, the seat belt cutting into my shoulder.
I unfasten the seat belt as I reach for the door handle. The dome light clicks on.
Swinging my legs out of the vehicle, I stoop to gather the items from my purse, which scattered across the floor of the car when he braked so suddenly. I shove my wallet into the bag, as well as a few scattered pieces of paper, then straighten and throw the door closed.
The car fishtails as he stomps the accelerator and zips into the night.
Rain taps my head and shoulders. It’s not raining too hard now, but if the thunder in the distance can be believed, this light sprinkling won’t last long.
I should call someone. A cab, a friend, someone who can get me home.
Plunging my hand into my bag, I feel for my phone. Where is it?
I come up empty.
It has to be here. I crouch, place my purse in my lap, and use both hands to dig.
Still nothing.
It must’ve fallen out in the car. It’s probably on the floorboard right now.
Figures.
I look around. Dark storefronts and warehouses line either side of the street.
Swell. I had to pick the industrial district for my little tantrum, didn’t I?
No matter. Even getting drenched in a shady part of town is better than facing Ryan and his treachery for a second longer.
I head for the nearest intersection. If I can see what street I’m on, I’ll be able to determine the shortest way out of here.
Hopefully before some lowlife finds me. This isn’t the best neighborhood for walking after dark.
A harsh trilling fills my head.
My eyes flip open.
I’m not on the sidewalk of a rain-drenched street. Nor am I walking in heels and wearing a black lace dress.
I’m in bed, in the hotel room that’s been home for the last week.
And the phone beside my head is ringing insistently.
“Hello?” My voice is scratchy and I clear my throat.
“Stormy? It’s Charlie.”
“Hi.” Why is Charlie calling me? Especially in the middle of… I glance at the clock. Okay, so it’s after nine a.m. Not exactly the middle of the night.
“Hey, Sam called out sick today. I was hoping you might be able to come in earlier and help cover the restaurant. Maybe split your shift between that and the bar.”
“Sure thing. What time?”
“Can you be here by noon? And maybe work until eleven?”
Long day, but honestly, I’d probably be spending my time there anyway. I might as well get paid for it. “See you then.”
I hang up the phone and stare at the ceiling.
Sam called out sick, but is he really sick? Or are his injuries too much to hide today?
We should’ve done more to talk him out of going home last night.
But he’d been determined. I don’t know that we could’ve done anything to change his mind.
Maybe he is only sick. I can hope, right?
I push the worries from my mind.
The dream hangs over me like the clouds in a stormy sky. Another memory? It has to be. And I was wearing the dress that is currently hanging in my closet, so it’s likely one of the last memories before whatever happened to me happened.
Was I attacked while walking through a bad part of town? Is that how all this started?
Ryan.
The thought of him slices into my heart. He’s real. As are the feelings that I once had, and maybe still have, for him.
He’d called me Audra. Audra Parker.
It feels right.
More so than any of the others. But that name isn’t among the ones on my multiple IDs. What does that mean?
Maybe that ID fell out when he stopped the car.
If everything in the dream can be believed, that’s what happened to my cell phone. Maybe it wasn’t the only thing I left behind.
And to think this all started because I demanded to get out of the car.
It’s amazing how one seemingly small decision could have such far-reaching consequences.
And if those men catch up to me, those consequences might prove to be fatal.
ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ
“One Bahama Mama coming right up.” I tell the pixie-faced blonde before turning to the long-haired, bearded man sitting across from her. “Sure I can’t get you something?”
He shakes his head and I turn away.
Business has dropped off the last half hour, although it
was busy enough earlier. No sign of Drew, so evidently he took a day off.
I’m sure he needed it. He’s been here pretty much every day since arriving home for Christmas break.
No shortage of work for those of us who actually show up, right?
Zak whistles something tuneless as he blends one drink, stirs another, and dispenses beer on tap, all at the same time. In a way, it’s kind of like a dance. Especially as we both maneuver in the same congested space without collision.
It’s coming up on eleven p.m.
A few more tables vacate and I clear those before turning in my apron for the night.
My usual seat beckons. Malachi has already settled on the bar stool beside mine. I take my seat and order a raspberry limeade.
Malachi grins. “Am I rubbing off on you?”
“Well, you order the same thing every night. I thought I’d see if it’s as good as you’d have me believe.”
Zak delivers my limeade and I take a sip.
I have to admit, it is pretty good.
“I’ve always thought that if there were beverages in heaven, this would be one of them.” Malachi punctuates his statement with a long drink of his limeade.
“What, there’s no drinking in heaven?”
“There’s no need. In heaven, we won’t have bodies that need food or hydration.”
“Sounds like a pretty miserable existence to me.” Zak leans on the bar near us, his gaze passing over the two occupied tables in the center of the room.
“On the contrary. It’s more wonderful than you can imagine.”
How can Malachi know such a thing?
He can’t, not really, can he? Something keeps me from asking. Maybe I don’t really want to know the answer.
“You know, you aren’t exactly what I imagined a religious person to be like. Drew either, for that matter.”
Malachi quirks an eyebrow. “And what did you expect religious people to be like?”
“I don’t know. Doing church stuff or something. Certainly not hanging out in a bar. Or working in a restaurant, serving alcohol.”
Chuckling, Malachi says, “Church stuff is great and we each need that. But the mission field is outside the church. Jesus didn’t spend all his time inside the temple. We can’t either.”
Zak snorts. “Yeah, well as long as you don’t focus that evangelical energy my way, we’re good.”
Malachi studies him. “You don’t believe in God?”
“I find it hard to believe in God when my family was taken from me by a drunk driver. My sister’s been in a coma for five years. Where is God in all of that?”
“Man, that’s rough. I’m sorry.” Sorrow lines Malachi’s eyes. “But you said she’s just in a coma, right? So there’s hope.”
“A few years ago, maybe. But the doctors say she’ll have permanent brain damage if she wakes up now. And that’s a big if.”
“You need a miracle. And I’m going to pray for one for you.”
Somehow it doesn’t sound flippant or contrived from Malachi. Maybe it’s the compassion in his tone or the sincerity in his eyes, but he really cares. Just like he really believes that praying for a miracle will work.
For Zak’s sake, I hope he’s right.
“Do what you want, man. If God’s there, He doesn’t care enough to do anything about it.”
“God does care. I’ve felt His love and sorrow. I don’t know why He lets these things happen, but that doesn’t change His love.”
Zak pushes off the counter. The hard set to his eyebrows tell me he remains unconvinced.
I have to admit that I am, too.
There’s too much trouble around us – in Zak’s life, Sam’s life, my life – to make me think God, if He’s even there, gives a crap about any of us.
Still, Malachi’s commitment to his beliefs, in spite of opposition, is impressive. It takes guts to stand up for something that you can’t fully explain or defend.
Especially when you stand alone.
“You’re entitled to your beliefs and I respect you for them. Just don’t expect me to jump on the God train.”
Zak moves away, heading for the other customers.
“That’s okay, Zak. I pray one day you will.” Malachi’s words are barely audible.
I watch Zak move about the room, smiling and conversing with the customers as though he’s not bearing a lifetime’s worth of burdens on his broad shoulders.
“And you, Stormy?” Malachi’s soft voice draws my attention. “Do you agree with Zak?”
Do I? I don’t feel particularly religious, so I guess I probably do. “I’d have to say yes. Honestly, it’s not something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. More important things on my mind.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. When this life is done, we all learn one critical lesson. There’s nothing more important than God.”
Nothing, huh? How about two men who want nothing more than to kill me? Or my family, who probably thinks I’m dead?
“Yeah, well, there are plenty of things that feel a heck of a lot more important right now.”
He nods, but says nothing further.
Time for a change of subject. I rack my brain, but nothing comes to mind… wait. “What was the deal with that guy you talked to last night? He a friend of yours?”
“No. I just met him.”
“And you went over and talked with him? Why?”
Malachi shrugs. “He looked like he could use a friend.”
Okay. Sam was right. Malachi is one weird dude.
But it works for him in a way that it wouldn’t for pretty much anyone else. Weird or not, I like having him around. And I don’t even mind his God talk. Somehow he’s able to talk about those things without being pushy.
Zak processes the tab for one of the tables and refills the other before rejoining us. “How’s it going? You guys need refills?”
We both decline.
Zak is quiet for a second before looking at me. “I’m going to visit my sister tomorrow. You want to come?”
Why is he inviting me? “Don’t you want to spend time with her? I mean, without other people around?”
“A one-sided conversation gets kind of old. Besides, I like to bring other people around to talk to her, just in case she’s in there and can hear us. Extra stimulation, you know?”
Interesting. “Does that work?”
“I don’t know. But I figure it can’t hurt.” Defeat laces the words.
He’s all but given up hope. Is he thinking about removing the life support? That is, after all, what the doctors are recommending.
Whether or not it’ll make any difference, I’ll do whatever I can to help. Zak’s done enough for me. “I’d love to.”
A tired smile curls his lips. “Thanks. I’ll pick you up at ten.”
Malachi clears his throat. “I’d like to pray over her. Is it okay if I come?”
Zak shrugs. “Sure. I don’t think it’ll do any good, but the more the merrier, right?”
“It’s okay, Zak. Belief will come. For now, I have enough faith for the both of us.”
He better have enough faith for all three of us, because I’m with Zak on this one. Prayer seems like a worthless use of time in such a hopeless situation.
ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ ᴂ
She couldn’t have simply disappeared!
Agent Strand slammed his fist against the desk. Where was she?
It was unbelievable that one woman could cause so much trouble. One woman! The only thing saving him right now was that she hadn’t made much of a blip on his boss’ radar.
And he’d rather light himself on fire than set the record straight. Butch better keep his big mouth shut, too.
Still, they needed to find her. Fast.
With the amount of money in her possession, she could’ve gone most anywhere.
But there should’ve been a trail. A plane ticket, car rental, hotel reservation, something.
Yet Strand had found nothing. He worked for the FBI, fo
r crying out loud! He had access and a variety of resources at his disposal. How the heck could she simply vanish?
So then.
She either hadn’t left town or had somehow gotten her hands on a fake ID. Not impossible, especially with her connections. With the people she hung out with, there should be any number who could hook her up with a genuine-looking forgery.
Which would make finding her that much harder.
The bigger mystery was why she hadn’t surfaced. He wouldn’t have taken her for a coward.
Especially now.
With the trouble her family was facing, he would’ve expected her to be right there, trudging through the muck with them.
However there’d been zero contact. And he’d been watching. And listening.
Maybe she was more self-serving than he thought. Or too scared to show her face.
Or maybe smart enough to know when she’d been beat.
Whatever her reasons for laying low, he needed her to turn up. Soon. Before she caused him any more trouble than she already had.
His personal cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Butch.
He wasted no time with pleasantries. “Anything?”
“Found the cabbie.”
Butch’s voice grated on him in a way it never had before. Finding the cabbie should’ve been fast and simple, not a weeklong process! But Butch hadn’t been observant enough to notice the cab company, let alone the cab number or license plate. “And?”
“Guy hung up on me. Thought I’d go down and talk to him in person.”
What, so he could screw that up, too? No thanks. “Forget it. I’ll go.”
A pause. “You sure?”
“Yes.” He got the cabbie’s name and ended the call.
The cabbie would talk to him. If the badge wasn’t enough to convince the cabbie, threats of arrest for impeding an ongoing investigation worked almost every time.
Strand grabbed his weapon, wallet, and badge.
Hopefully the cabbie had dropped her at a friend’s house or hotel. And with any luck, she’d still be there.
This mess needed a swift resolution. And the only way that would happen would be for him to get his hands on that girl.
Twelve
I run, but gain no ground.
The dumpster beside me never disappears, nor do I get any closer to the rusted car with broken windows not ten feet in front of me.
Shadow of the Storm Page 14
