My eyes traveled around the garage, searching for something, anything, I could use to defend myself with, yet in my heart, I knew the effort was fruitless. I saw a section of two by four, two feet in length, next to Booker’s woodworking tools. Bill followed my gaze and walked over to pick up the board.
“Thanks, girlie. I was hoping to use something other than my gun.” He slipped the gun into the pocket of his black slacks. “They’re too easy, you know what I mean. Just aim and shoot, then the fun’s over.”
He preferred to beat me to death with a chunk of wood? My only hope now was to keep him talking. Maybe Booker would be his normal over-protective self and check on his grandfather again.
“Your brother Jeffery was killing children,” I blurted out. It wasn’t the most brilliant thing to say to a savage killer, but my mind was a complete blank.
His red eyes flared. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be the son of an infamous drug smuggler? The pressure can drive you crazy! Jeffery had to build up the clientele or lose his ranking in the family business. He was tired of being dad’s muscle, like Alan and me!”
Bill mopped up the sweat that had gathered on his forehead with his jacket sleeve. “Jeffery was sick. He didn’t have a choice. He… He had a nervous condition.” He ran his fingers through his greasy hair. “He couldn’t handle stress. Children are weak and easily manipulated,” he said, shaking his head.
“Jeffery was a coward.” I spun around to see Sam leaning against the door with one of the samurai swords in his hand. He looked horrible. He was pale, and his face was shiny with perspiration. “Your brother was the worst type of human. To prey on children is sick and depraved, he deserved to die.”
“You deserve to die, old man!” Bill was enraged by Sam’s words and ran straight toward him. Sam hoisted the sword up, and the crazed killer stopped.
“You lied to me, girlie.” He shook a stubby finger at me. “And you, old man, are too weak to kill me with that so put it down.”
“Not happening. Put down the piece of wood and your gun, then we’ll talk.”
Bill laughed. “On second thought, pops, I like your spunk. It would be a shame to kill you off right away. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to allow you a few more minutes of life by killing girlie here first. You get to experience the pain of seeing someone you care about die, and I get to beat the life out of a liar,” he said, his face tight. “It’s a win-win situation, for me, anyway. And out of respect for the elderly, I’ll even kill you with my gun.”
He started back toward me, but Sam stepped between us. “No deal, scum.” He still had the sword pointed at Bill, except his pencil-thin arms shook violently under the weight. Bill continued walking slowly toward us.
“You can’t do it, old man,” Bill reiterated. “You can barely lift the sword.”
“If I’m incapable of killing you with this, why are you sweating so badly?” Sam asked defiantly.
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I hate pain. You can’t possibly kill me with that thing, even so, you might get a lucky poke in.” He took another step toward us.
Sam’s arms finally gave out, and the tip of the sword clanked against the concrete garage floor. In my mind were Booker’s pain-filled eyes from earlier, his words I just can’t lose him ran riot through my head. I had to do something, this evilness was not going to kill Sam, not if I could help it.
“Wait. If you let him go back inside, you can have me, I won’t put up a fight,” I said, hoping he’d bargain.
“Maybe I like the fight,” Bill said, adding a brutal grin.
“Okay, I’ll fight you with my last dying breath. However you want it.”
“However I want it?” I knew by the sickening grin on Bill’s face we were no longer talking about my dying quickly. My soul cringed with thoughts of the sadistic torture he was going to inflict on me.
I took a deep breath and whispered, “Yes.”
"NO!" shouted Sam.
“Alan’s going to regret me coming here instead of him. Old man, leave.”
“Not going to happen, freak!” Sam stepped in front of me again and raised the sword.
“Sam, you’re all Booker has left. Please go.”
“I’m an old man, Maggie. My time is up.”
“Please,” I said weakly.
“I’ll stab him with the sword, you jump in the car and go.
“He crushed the key, I can’t. Besides, I’m not leaving without you.”
“Fine. Run into the house. I can keep him busy enough for you to get inside and turn the security code on, including the electrical current.”
“No,” I pleaded once more.
He ignored me. “I’ve already called the police, they should be here any minute.” I listened, but there were no sirens. The weather was still slowing everyone down.
“Hey, old man, I can hear you!” Bill looked at Sam as if he were some stupid creature. “I can kill you and the girl,” he said, patting the gun in pocket, “in less than two seconds. Actually, this lovely creature has planted some rather exciting thoughts into my head. Slow torture is such a lovely way to die,” he cooed. “Put the sword down, you old fool, and I swear you won’t feel a thing.”
“I don’t think so. Why don’t you come and get it, chicken? ”
“Maybe I should just use my gun, you stubborn old fool.” Bill stood there, fingering the gun, then slid it back in his pocket. “Na, too easy! 2x4 it is, Pops.”
Bill sauntered toward us, taking two steps forward, and one back, playing Sam like a cat with a mouse. Sam hoisted the sword back up. His arms immediately began shaking again under its weight, causing him to topple over onto one knee. I went to reach for the sword when Sam looked back and winked at me.
It was a trick!
Bill leapt at us, the two by four raised high above his head. Sam lifted the sword with all the strength of a 20 year-old man, and shoved it into Bill, impaling him through the chest. Clutching at the sword as blood gushed out of his wound, Bill fell over sideways with a loud guttural cry escaping his perverse lips. He twisted franticly on the ground before he finally stopped breathing.
Sam dropped to the ground at almost the exact same moment. “Maggie, call 911.”
“I thought you already did!”
“I lied.”
I ran in and grabbed the phone, calling for help as I went back out to Sam. “Hold on, please don’t die. Booker needs you.” I cradled him in my arms while my tears soaked his shirt. I told him over again what Booker had said earlier, as if I could somehow guilt him into living. Booker arrived in less than two minutes.
I briefly explained what had happened while he lifted Sam up and placed him into the police car. He then ran over to his POC car and removed a small handgun from the trunk, handing it to me as he ordered me to get inside and stay there. He was beyond angry, and I didn’t protest. I immediately set all the alarms and called Seth.
32
I sat on the floor of the living room, with the gun at my side and my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, rocking back and forth. Where’s Seth? Why doesn’t he answer his stupid cell phone?
I’d called the hospital to find out what was happening with Sam and slammed the phone down in frustration when the receptionist wouldn’t tell me anything. Only after I heard the back door open did I realize it’d gotten dark. Grabbing the gun, I darted behind a cabinet. A familiar shadow passed through the door and headed straight toward me, pinning me to the wall. Seth! I buried myself in his chest. A hand came down firmly over my mouth, squelching my voice.
“Is there someone else in the house?” Seth whispered in my ear. I shook my head and he released me.
“Why are you back already? Why didn’t you call me?” I shouted my questions at him in a flurry.
“The trial ended sooner than I thought so I took an earlier flight home to surprise you. Booker called this afternoon to let me know you were staying with Sam. What exactly went on here?” His eyes focused on the gun
in my hand as I gave him a quick rundown. He was on the phone before I finished. He must have gotten the same obnoxious receptionist because he slammed the phone down, muttering under his breath.
“Is the body still in the garage?” he asked, walking toward the door.
“No, the coroner came an hour ago.”
Booker’s car pulled up before Seth could ask any more questions. He walked in and sank down onto the couch. His face was stoic.
“How’s Sam?” Seth asked cautiously.
“Dead,” Booker answered coldly. I dropped to my knees in silent tears.
“I’m sorry, Book. Maggie told me what happened. It’s not fair. He was a wonderful man. Was it his heart?” Booker didn’t answer. “Maggie said Dreser didn’t touch either of them, thanks to Sam, he saved their lives.” Seth sat down next to Booker, placing a hand on his shoulder. I tried drying my tears, but they kept coming.
“Did she tell you about the deal she tried to make with the foul scum?” Booker’s voice was imbued with anger. “Tell me something, Maggie. What kind of a man do you think my grandfather is—was?” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. I had no idea what he was thinking. Why was he angry with me?
“Do you honestly believe he would have gone calmly back into the house and allowed that loathsome pig to do whatever form of torture he wanted on you?” Seth’s eyes turned sharply to me. I was confused and had no response to Booker’s anger. All I tried to do was keep Sam alive.
“He was a wonderful man, a good man, and he didn’t deserve to die!” he shouted. “You don’t make deals with drug dealers. They NEVER keep their word! They are foul sick creatures who should be eliminated!”
“Book, that’s not fair. She tried to help.” Seth was attempting to walk the delicate balance between comforting his friend and protecting me.
“Fair? I’ve had to bury my mother and my sister thanks to drugs. Now I have to bury my grandfather, courtesy of a drug dealer. That’s not fair. When you have to bury her,” he said, pointing angrily at me, “we’ll talk again about what’s fair.”
Seth walked over and drew me up off the floor. “Perhaps we should go.”
“Perhaps your girlfriend should learn to listen. What did I say, Maggie? Do you even remember, or where you too busy whimpering about not seeing Seth for a whole 24 hours?” His words ripped through my heart. “I said DON’T LEAVE THIS HOUSE! How do you expect me to protect you if you won’t listen?”
“Enough!” Seth’s arm wrapped around me, anger literally flew from his eyes; it was intimidating. He practically dragged me out the door and into his car. Too distraught to speak, I remained silent the entire drive home.
I walked into his house feeling as if the world was on my shoulders and I was about to break. “I’m really tired, I’m going to bed, see you in the morning.” I barely kept the tears in while running upstairs and climbing into his too-high bed. Burying my head under a pillow, my tears were set free again. Almost immediately, Seth’s hands guided my shoulders gently onto his chest.
“I was trying to help Sam. He thought he was having a heart attack, and was afraid if we called 911, Booker would drive like a wild man to get home—”
“Which is exactly what would have happened,” Seth interjected. “And with all the rain, he could easily have gotten into a wreck.”
I nodded. “Sam wanted me to drive him to the hospital, it’s the only reason I left the house, I swear.”
“Book didn’t mean it, Maggie, he’s hurting. I can only imagine the pain he is going through. If I had lost you…” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead he pulled me up tighter against him. “His past dealings with dealers and addicts have clouded his thinking. He’s a passionate man, and doesn’t always engage his head before he lets his heart scream out. His tongue can be brutal sometimes,” he said with reproach. After several more bouts of tears, I fell asleep in his arms.
I awoke in the morning to Seth’s soft sweet kisses on top of my head. “Good morning,” I said, smiling weakly up at him, the happenings of yesterday still front and center in my mind.
He smiled and looked over at the clock, it was nearly eleven. “I have to go do Lunch Swap,” he said, slowly pulling away. He'd already showered and dressed.
“I’m going too.”
“Maggie, I wish you wouldn’t. Please let me find out if there is any new information on the case. Hopefully, they’ve found the last Dreser.”
My stomach knotted up as I thought of Sam again. “Okay, I’ll cook up something wonderful for lunch while you’re gone.” I was in no mood to battle having to stay home. Truthfully, I didn’t want to leave the security of his house. He brushed his teeth while I occupied myself in the kitchen. I noticed there was an agent sitting in his car out front. He yawned and stretched his arms, which were probably stiff from sitting out there all night.
Seth kissed me good-bye, never mentioning a word about staying inside, no doubt, knowing Booker’s words from yesterday still weighed heavy on my heart. The tears began again as thoughts of Sam played through my mind. I forced myself to stay busy, I couldn’t think about him anymore, not for a while, it hurt too much.
Because of everything that happened yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to visit my mom. I called the hospital, and the nurse said that she had developed a fever, and they were running some tests to see what was wrong. More bad news.
I began defrosting some chicken, though I wasn’t hungry in the least. I dug out Seth’s favorite Spanish rice recipe, maybe I’d want to eat something if I knew he would enjoy it. As I browned the rice, the phone rang. To my frustration, it was a nettlesome telemarketer. I tried repeatedly to tell him no thank you, except the man was persistent, if not a little dense. I gave up on being polite and hung up on the guy, but not soon enough. The forgotten rice was now burnt and the entire kitchen was saturated in smoke.
The back door opened and the security system began beeping. It was Booker. He came in and punched in the code.
“I didn’t know you were Jewish?” He smiled weakly as he opened the kitchen windows.
“What?”
He looked horrible, as if he hadn’t slept at all. He walked over to the stove and stirred the blackened rice. “Burnt offerings, right?”
“Pretty weak joke, Booker,” I answered cautiously.
“I’m sorry, and I’m not referring to my truly wonderful joke.” He came over to me, gently taking me by the shoulders. “Maggie, I didn’t mean any of those horrible things I said. I’m just tired of the heartache caused by drugs and these ruthless dealers.” His face was racked with anguish, it took every ounce of my strength not to burst into tears.
“Cole said when they opened up Sam’s chest in the operating room his heart was severely damaged. He didn’t have a chance. He said Sam must have been having small heart attacks for a while.” He wiped a tear from his cheek and continued.
“Knowing my grandfather, I’m betting he asked you to drive him to the hospital.” I nodded. “He was probably worried I’d get in an accident trying to get to him.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
“Like I said yesterday, he told me how you tried to save him, about the whole deal with Dreser.” He stroked my cheek softly. “I can’t believe you’d do that. Do you have any idea how badly he would have hurt you?” His eyes shut again, and he dropped his forehead to mine.
“You astound me, Maggie. When I said I wasn’t strong enough to lose Sam, I didn’t mean you should die for him.”
“I know. I couldn’t get your face out of my mind. I thought about your family all being gone too. It’s unfair.”
“It wouldn’t have been fair for Seth to have to lose you either, he loves you so much. I honestly think he would have gone insane if he did.” He held me as we stood in the smoke filled kitchen sharing our sorrow.
“I don’t suppose you’ve an older sister who’s looking for an incredibly handsome man to fall in love with?” he asked, drying his face.
“You know an i
ncredibly handsome man looking to fall in love?” He groaned playfully. “Sorry, I’m an only child.”
“Drat.”
“Drat? Do people still use that word? Man, you are old.”
“You’re real funny, Magpie. Come on. Let’s see if we can fix this mess you are trying to pass off as food.” I whacked him with the kitchen towel as he dumped the rice into the sink.
I was surprised to learn Booker was almost as good a cook as Seth. The lunch turned out pretty good despite the whole burnt offerings episode. Seth walked in as we finished setting the table. Book quickly crossed the room and the two men embraced, each saying nothing, they didn’t have to. Booker eventually broke the silence as he tried to apologize. Needless to say, Seth wouldn’t hear of it.
“We’ll get through this together, like we always have.”
Two days later was the funeral, it was heart wrenching. Sam was well known in the community, it seemed like everyone in town was there. Because of the size of the crowd, and since we had no idea of the whereabouts of the remaining Dreser, Seth and Cole never left my side. It was almost comical to observe me moving around with my “hot guy” shield. I was forbidden to go to the bathroom and therefore didn’t dare eat or drink anything all morning, yet somehow I still had to go. Thank heavens Mrs. Gianchi showed up and saved me from an embarrassing moment.
I cried so many times during the service the skin around my eyes cracked and bled. Booker was a wreck. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, to hold and comfort him, but how do you comfort someone who has lost their entire family?
Booker decided to keep the burial part of his grandfather’s service private. Only a few of us were there to watch them lower Sam into the ground.
After the service, we invited Booker over to Seth's house. He declined, saying he wanted to spend a little more time at the graveside. My mind was reeling by the time we arrived home. Seth and I sat silently on the couch in each other’s arms for a very long time.
Unlovable Page 30
