One Tiny Secret

by Adam Kunz

  “Mr. Reed can have visitors now,” a nurse finally tells us. We hurry over to the double doors leading to the rest of the hospital. “He’s in recovery on the second floor. Take the elevator down the hall and to the left.”

  When we step off the elevator, Phoebe and I follow the signs to the recovery room. Our footsteps echo throughout the hall as we quickly move toward the door at the end of the corridor with the placard above it that reads: Recovery.

  The door initially blocks our view of Parker when we push it open. Moving into the room, I see him off to my right, propped up in his bed. Monitors beep throughout the small space. I stammer while whispering his name as I see all the tubes running from the IV’s in his arm.

  His eyes blink open and his trademark grin shows across his face. It’s a little strained, but still as effective as ever. “Aren’t you two sights for sore eyes?” He chuckles, but then winces in pain.

  Phoebe lets out a worried laugh at his comment, moving over to the bed and placing her hand on his arm. “How’re you holding up?”

  “I’ve been better.” He grins again, rubbing her hand. “I fucking hate hospitals, though,” he adds as he pans over to me. He bows his head in a sexy manner. “Dani?”

  “Parker,” I reply, a smirk forming.

  Phoebe bends down and plants a kiss on his forehead before saying, “Well, it looks like you two have some things to discuss. I’ll wait outside. I think I saw a vending machine out there with my name on it.” She giggles, but I can tell she’s exhausted.

  “You don’t have to go—” I start to say, but Phoebe grabs my hand and leads me over to the door.

  “Parker told me about you two. It’s fine, really. It’s like that old saying: ‘If you love something, let it go, and if it comes back to you, it was meant to be’…or something like that.”

  I smile at her and she returns it. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask, pointing at Parker and then to myself.

  “Do I really have a choice?” she jokes. “Go on, you better not keep him waiting. You know how much of an ass he can be if you do.”

  As she leaves the room, I peek back around the open door at Parker. He’s grinning at me. Raising his hand in front of him, he points at me and curls his index finger, telling me to come closer.

  I slowly move around the door and stroll over to the side of the bed. Parker extends his hand for mine with his palm facing upward and just waits for me to take it. I lightly touch the base of his hand and trail my fingers across his palm, ending at his fingertips. His skin is so warm and soft.

  “You know, I never did thank you for saving me earlier,” I say, moving my fingers down from the tips of his digits to his palm again.

  “I think you’re doing a great job of that right now,” he replies. His baby blue eyes pierce through mine as he looks up at me. Then he does something I’ve never seen him do before—he smolders at me. I instantly decide that it takes the place of his grin as being his most gorgeous weapon. “Dani, I have something I need to tell you.”

  “Oh? You do, do you?”

  He lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, but you have to promise not to freak out, okay? I’ve got a lot riding on what I’m about to say to you. Seriously, my ego has taken an incredible kick in the balls already tonight, and you freaking out would most certainly finish me off.”

  I find Parker’s ability to bring humor into any situation a breath of fresh air—even though at times it’s completely uncalled for. Here he is, laid up in a hospital bed after being stabbed, and he’s talking about balls.

  “I won’t freak out, promise,” I laugh, keeping eye contact with him.

  He takes a moment and stares at me, a smirk on his face. The next thing I know, he’s taking my hand and drawing in a deep breath.

  “I just wanted to say...damn, this is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.”

  I’ve never seen Parker this flustered before. He’s usually so suave and good with words.

  He takes in another deep breath. “Danielle Marks, I love you.” The words flow from his lips like a melody. “I’m sorry it took me this long to say it, but truthfully, I knew I did even before I left for California. These past couple years have been torture for me. I lost count of how many times I got to the point of just packing up and coming back to you, but then I got in my own way with thoughts of me ruining your future.”

  I smile widely while bending so my face is close to his. Gently bracing his chin with my other hand, I reply, “I love you too. And for the record, you can only improve my future…not ruin it.”

  I press my lips to his. He reaches over with his other hand and places it on the back of my neck, putting more into the kiss. Then he groans in pain and I pull away to apologize.

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he whispers, and brings my face back close to his. Our mouths touch with intensity, his tongue sweeping against mine. I hear another groan of pain from him, but he doesn’t stop. His grip hardens on my hand and I can tell he’s in a lot of discomfort.

  I push him away to lie against the bed. “This is hurting you, literally,” I say, and push him back down when he tries to resist.

  “I don’t care. I’ve been waiting to tell you—no—show that I love you. I’m not wasting this opportunity just because I have a damn flesh wound.”

  God, I love this man.

  “There will be many more moments where you can show me how much you love me. I assure you of that,” I reply, combing back his hair and trailing my hand down his cheek. “Once you’re better, of course.”

  “I almost died tonight. The only thing that got me through was the thought of you in danger. Plain and simple. I didn’t save you tonight, Dani. You saved me,” he states, his breath catching, as another surge of pain hits him.

  “What about Phoebe?” I ask.

  “You know what I meant.”

  I smirk off to the side and pan back over to him. “So, which side is your injury on again?” I ask, pointing back and forth to his left and right sides.

  He takes my hand and places it on the wounded area on his right. “Why do you want know?”

  I climb up on the bed, careful not to touch his sensitive spot or unhook any of his IV’s. “Because I want to do this,” I reply, and attack his mouth with mine. His hands clutch my back and pull me forward. I feel every one of his muscles tense up from the ache he’s enduring to kiss me.

  “This hurts so good,” he speaks around my mouth as our lips continue to entwine with one another. It’s becoming difficult to gauge where his end and mine begin.

  “Please tell me if it gets to be too much, okay?” I say breathily.

  He pauses and backs his lips away from mine. “Dani, that’d be impossible.”

  He grabs my ass and thrusts my hips into his. His grip is firm, yet tender at the same time. I smile, imagining us back in his twin bed with nothing on. I’m finding myself longing to be that close to him again, but groan internally when I realize that’s not a possibility right now.

  “Whoa, you cannot be doing that in here,” someone says behind us. I turn to see a nurse standing there, her eyes wide with surprise. “I do believe visiting hours are over. Besides, I think you’ve given Mr. Reed here enough to dream about tonight that you can be on your way,” she adds with a hearty laugh.

  “Oh my God—I’m so sorry you saw that,” I say, trying to move off the bed without disturbing anything.

  Parker grabs me when my feet touch down on the ground. He pulls me toward him for one last kiss before I go.

  “Get better, okay?” I whisper once our lips separate.

  He grins. “I already am.”

  The nurse clears her throat behind me and I stiffen. Moving toward the door, I turn around once more to glance at Parker. I wave to him just before the nurse ushers me out.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  “Thanks for letting me sleep over last night,” Phoebe says while packing up her overnight bag.

  “Well, my
Dad and I weren’t about to let you sleep in that house alone after what happened,” I reply, handing her a shirt that fell from the bag.

  “I’m so not looking forward to going home, but at least there will be a deputy with me.”

  I can tell she’s scared just by the tone in her voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

  “I’m sure. Besides, there will be a mob of angry trick-or-treaters egging the house if I’m not there to pass out candy. And like I said, there’s always the hottie-tottie deputy to protect me,” she laughs, but it sounds empty.

  There’s a knock at the door before it’s cracked open. “Everyone decent in there?” my dad calls.

  “Yeah, come in.”

  He moves into the room. “Are you ready to get going, Phoebe? I’m taking you over to your house and waiting for Deputy Miller to meet us over there.”

  She nods and drags her bag from the bed.

  “Wait, who’s staying here with me?” I ask.

  “Jackson and Samson will be downstairs until I—”

  “Samson? Really? I hate that guy,” I argue.

  “Hate is a very strong word, Dani,” he chastises.

  “Well, I think it fits in this case.”

  Another knock comes at the door and Samson pushes it all the way open before stepping in.

  “The whole house is secured, Sheriff. We’ve checked every entry point on the premises. Nobody’s getting in.” I mock him the whole time he’s talking. “I even put a bowl of candy out on the front step so that no one has to come to the door.”

  “Well, that’s just great. I see you’ve thought of everything,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Hey, Dad? Where do you keep those little gold star stickers? I think Samson deserves one on his badge.”

  “Dani, that’s enough,” my dad says, glaring at me.

  Samson just gives me a smug smile and turns his attention back to my father.

  “Good work, Samson. I should be back in a little while. And Dani,” he begins while turning to face me, “Samson is here to protect you. Try to get along, please?” He gives me a kiss on the forehead accompanied by a hug.

  “All right, fine,” I mutter, sending a scowl to Samson over my dad’s shoulder.

  As they leave, I give a quick hug to Phoebe and turn my focus to Samson while sitting heavily on the bed. “I believe we’re finished here. Go protect the house,” I order.

  “Dani, I know we’ve always kind of butted heads over the years, but I want to call a temporary truce,” he announces.

  “I’m listening,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and waiting for him to continue.

  “I need you to trust me in order for me to protect you. If we keep up this bickering between us, it could cause complications. I know you don’t like me, but you don’t have to for me to protect you. You just need to trust me.”

  Are my ears deceiving me? Is this Samson actually acting like a human being for once? I’ve never seen this side to him before. Actually, I never thought he had this in him.

  I rise from my bed and walk over to him. Extending my hand, I say, “Truce.” He smiles as he shakes my hand. “But after all this is over, the bickering will resume, got it?”

  He laughs. “Understood.”

  I’ve been cooped up in my room for two hours now. My phone sits on the desk while I snuggle up with my pillows on the bed. I’m anticipating any minute that it will notify me of the next step in Unknown’s plan. He did say it wasn’t over, after all.

  The house is quiet except for the periodic shuffling I hear downstairs. I begin to wonder where my father is. Phoebe only lives about five minutes away, and it shouldn’t have taken Miller this long to get to her house to relieve my dad of his duties. I decide to go ask one of the boys downstairs if they’ve heard from him.

  I pull myself from the bed and put on my slippers. Opening the door, I make my way over to the banister and look out over it into the foyer.

  “Hey, Samson? Have you heard from my dad yet?” I ask, but get no response. My voice echoes through the house, giving me the chills. “Hey, Samson?”

  When there’s still no answer, I run back into my bedroom and grab the butcher knife I put under the mattress. I take my cell from the desk and dial my dad’s phone. It doesn’t ring. It just goes straight to voicemail. Dammit. I try again with the same result. Before I even have a chance to call Phoebe, the phone vibrates in my hand.

  Buzz…Buzz…

  I lay it back on the desk when I see a text from Unknown blinking back at me. I don’t want to look at it, and decide to head for the doorway.

  Buzz…Buzz…

  “Damn you,” I murmur when I turn around and move back toward the desk to retrieve the phone. Picking it up, my finger shakes visibly when it swipes to unlock the screen. There are two texts:

  Everything has come full circle, and now we’ve reached your end. Are you ready, Dani?

  At this point I don’t even want to read the next message. I’m absolutely terrified, but I scroll down a bit to see the rest:

  I have someone who wants to talk to you.

  There’s a picture attached to the message. Pressing on it, I gasp. It’s a picture of Phoebe…teary-eyed, bloodied, tied up, and gagged. Another text comes through and I scroll down.

  To save her, you have to find us. Need a hint?

  Before I can respond, the walkie-talkie chirps on my desk with a static sound. I look over at it in complete shock before panning my focus to the bedroom window.

  “They’re in Janice’s room.”

  I rush through the open bedroom door to the stairs. I stop abruptly and gaze down the steps, making sure the coast is clear before I go blazing down them.

  “Samson?” I call out again. When there’s still no response, I mutter, “Shit.” With the knife in hand and at the ready, I cautiously take one step at a time until I reach the bottom.

  Pressing my back against the wall leading into the kitchen, I take in a deep breath. I look down and panic when I see a small trickle of red liquid on the floor just outside the kitchen.

  “Is that blood?” I whisper to myself.

  Cautiously scooting around the corner, I come face to face with a scene right out of a horror film. Red fills my vision as a scream rips from my vocal chords.

  Blood is smeared across the floor leading up to the kitchen table. The bodies of Samson and Jackson sit in the two chairs at the table. The sick bastard actually posed them as if they were sitting there having a conversation over a cup of coffee or something. Blood drips from the wounds around their necks, pooling at their feet.

  I cover my mouth to stifle my cries. I avert my eyes when it becomes too much for me to take. When the phone vibrates in my hand, I want to chuck it across the room.

  Looks like Samson won’t be a pain in your ass anymore. Sorry, I may have gotten a little carried away.

  Rage consumes me the moment I finish reading the text. I’ve never been as angry or scared as I am at this moment.

  Testing my will, I force my gaze back over to Samson and Jackson. Through all the carnage, my attention focuses on the gun resting in the holster on Samson’s hip. I glance at the knife in my hand and drop it to the floor when I look back at the gun.

  I move to Samson’s side, trying to avoid stepping in the trail of blood leading to his body. I can’t look him in the face. The deep guilt I feel would only get worse. Unlatching his holster, I remove the gun. Its cold steel feels heavy in my hand. I’ve held several guns before, and my dad has taught me how to fire one, but this time feels much different. I’m actually intending to use this one for protection, and that feeling scares me to death.

  As I walk away, I whisper, “Sorry” to the two men who lost their lives for no reason.

  Sliding back the top of the gun’s barrel, I hear it snap back, loading a bullet from the magazine into the chamber. I notice the safety is on, and proceed to flip it off before tucking the gun into the back of my jeans. I pull my shirt down to cover it.

  T
here’s been a lot of senseless killing lately, and someone needs to put a stop to it. I’m tired of being the helpless victim in this scenario. This ends tonight.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  I kick off my slippers and put on the pair of red Chucks resting next to the front door. After hearing a few trick-or-treaters outside ransacking the bowl of candy, I decide to wait until they leave before I go out. When the coast is clear, I open the door and step onto the front porch. I slowly maneuver down the gravel path in front of our house, my eyes never leaving Janice’s window.

  I draw out my cell and dial Parker’s hospital room, which I saved in my contacts earlier. I want to hear his voice one more time and tell him how I feel, just in case this is the last chance I get. My heart squeezes when I hear his strained hello.

  “Parker? It’s Dani.”

  “Hey, how are you?” he asks, and I wish I was able to continue with the small talk instead of saying what I have to tell him.

  “Unknown has Phoebe tied up in Janice’s house, and I’m going to get her.”

  “What? No! Dani, don’t do anything stupid, please.” The desperation in his voice tears at my heart.

  “I have to, Parker.” When he tries to argue again, I simply say, “I love you,” and hang up.

  I try my dad’s phone again, but it still rolls to voicemail. Disconnecting, I stuff the phone in my pocket. The thought of this possibly being the night I’m going to die enters my mind the closer I get to Janice’s house. I know I’m walking right into a trap, but there are really no alternatives. I have to do this. There’s no turning back now.

  Making my way around the hedgerow that separates our houses, I run my fingers along the top of its abrasive leaves. I come to a sudden stop when I reach the beginning of the driveway. Hattie’s car is parked there. I fear the worst has happened to her.

  Taking a few deep, calming breaths, I move forward. I find myself counting the steps it takes to reach the front door, trying to distract my nerves. I feel for the gun in the back of my pants, just to make sure it’s still there. The touch of the cold metal gives me a small sense of comfort.