Between Faith and Fear

by J. A. Dennam

  Her attention returned to the brick-faced barbershop before her. One of the town’s oldest and last surviving businesses advertised its resilience in the form of a red, white and blue barber pole out front. The recessed door and windows were framed in weathered whitewash and the fading decals on the glass boasted five-dollar haircuts. Something that hadn’t changed since she could remember.

  As her friends kept watch, she tried the knob. Locked. With her nose plastered to the glass, she tapped a knuckle against it and waited. Seconds later, the door to the shop’s back room opened a crack. Then it opened wider. Melanie had to fight back the lump of emotion stuck in her throat.

  A mocha-skinned black man well into his eighties sidled up to the door and quickly turned the lock, letting them in. A string of bells clanked against the wood.

  “Hurry on up, young-un, get yourself in here!”

  Melanie’s usual greeting never reached her tongue as they spilled into the shop. “Thank you, Elijah, is Granddad here? Did Mac make it with DJ?”

  The old man shut them all safely inside, closed the blinds. “They’re in the back. Go on, take a look.”

  “Hi, Elijah,” Danny said without her standard enthusiasm.

  Inside, the shop was just big enough for one barber chair and a short row of seats. Newspapers, which had been thoroughly scanned and discarded by the regulars, were the only indication her granddad’s bells had rung that day. But they always did, even though he rarely had to break out the clippers.

  “Ugh. Mothballs.”

  Rafferty was clearly unimpressed with his surroundings, but his rising pain level was beginning to affect them all. Austin hung back with him as acting guard.

  The back room was four times bigger than the shop itself and it once housed several carriages used for the town’s annual coal festival parade. Melanie followed the light and stopped short. There on the floor was her toddler, playing a game of ball with Mac and a familiar black dog.

  Tears instantly flooded her eyes.

  “Mama!” DJ squealed when he saw her. The boy sprung on all fours and lifted himself into a wobbly stand. Melanie flew to her son, fell to her knees and took him into a fierce hug that he returned with vigor. Soon, though, he was struggling for freedom, but she couldn’t let go. Eyes closed, she soaked in his warmth, the feel of his hair beneath her palm, the smell of mild laundry soap from his fresh set of clothes...

  And she lost it. Her grip tightened as her fear that Derek might actually be gone mingled with the love and her chest caved with emotion. Large arms wrapped around them both.

  Mac was such a brawny man, could easily fit the two of them in his arms. At the moment, his safe-haven of an embrace offered a much-needed reprieve from the dangers they’d been running from, but did little to ease her grief.

  “Shhh. Mel, you’re scaring DJ.”

  When they parted, she nodded her understanding and did what she could to collect herself. Only then did she realize Chewie had been scampering around them to join in the love. Mac handed her a clean hanky from his back pocket, his wide mustache twisting with a grimace when he scanned her clothing. “Not your usual look.”

  Melanie curled DJ into her lap and the boy had to defend himself against a barrage of canine kisses. “How did Chewie get here?” she asked, grateful, at least, for the dog’s added protection.

  “We couldn’t keep them apart,” Danny said, joining their circle on the spiral area rug. She and Mac shared a look. “Ty let him go with DJ since that’s where he wanted to be. Maybe there’s something to be said for that sixth sense.”

  Melanie spied a pink monogrammed blanket by the diaper bag. “Oh, no.” She went for her best semblance of a smile. “Will baby Sasha ever get her blanket back?”

  “The mutt won’t give it up,” Mac said, running a hand over the short fuzz on his shiny head. “He seems to think it’s DJ’s.”

  Sadness descended on the group. Mac looked between the two women with concern. “You’ve got to fill me in because I’m sensing a problem bigger than these so-called ‘ghosts’ we’re running from.”

  The words would barely come. “Derek was shot.”

  Mac’s brow fell. “And?”

  Danny shook her head, unable to speak at all.

  “He didn’t make it?”

  “Ty was with him.” Melanie’s eyes closed as she pressed her lips to DJ’s hair. He’s still alive. Ty was wrong.

  Or he’s lying.

  The back door opened, making them all jump. The short, rounded shape of Emery Parker entered quickly and locked the door behind him, large paper bag in hand. When he removed his flat cap, Melanie safely transferred DJ to Mac’s arms and got to her feet.

  “What were you doing out, Granddad, this isn’t a game.”

  White bushy eyebrows topped gray eyes weathered with age. They were the kindest eyes Melanie ever knew. The old man harrumphed in her ear when she squeezed him hard. Despite the white beard and age spots, Emery refused to relinquish his signature youthful spirit.

  “You really think some young punk is going to look twice at an old man like me?”

  They parted. Melanie wiped her eyes. “Well, you aren’t going back out there until this is over. Understood?”

  He held up the bag while he caught his breath. “Good thing I brought dinner because I left my can of ravioli at home.”

  “I’m sorry to put you through this,” she said sadly. As Emery laid out containers on his desk - the only cleared surface in the room - Melanie transferred her attention to Mac and Danny.

  “It sounds like he moved hell and high water to fight his way back to you,” Mac said as he rested his cheek against the top of Danny’s head.

  “The odds were so unfair, Mac. He didn’t have much of a chance.”

  “Well. If it were possible at all, your brother would have found a way. The few times I met him, his determination intimidated the hell out of me.”

  Melanie stood there, unsure of what to do. Danny was her rock. The highest example of strength. How could she be so positive Derek was gone?

  Danny hiccupped against Mac’s shoulder. “I guess I should be grateful I got to see him again, but right now I have an overwhelming need to dole out some death and destruction.”

  Mac winced over her head and Melanie caught his look. “Do I get a look at this Rafferty guy before he turns to ground beef?”

  She indicated the door to the barbershop. “He’s in the front with Austin. Be our guest. But, Mac?” He looked at her when he got to his feet. “The only thing keeping him from killing us all is the fact he’s already wounded. Remember that. Never underestimate him and never let your guard down.”

  Her cellphone buzzed in her pocket. Melanie turned her back, checked the screen. It was Ty. Good, just the person she was about to call.

  She put the phone to her ear, opened her mouth, but words failed to come.

  “Mel?”

  She swallowed hard. “What?”

  “Did you find DJ?”

  “Yes, we’re with him now.” It was barely more than a whisper. “How is Derek?”

  The silence that followed deepened her sense of dread, but she choked it back.

  “Mel... I’m sorry, but Derek didn’t--”

  Her short, crazed laughter cut him off. “Don’t worry, Rafferty can’t hear me. Just tell me the truth.”

  A deep, painful sigh. “I tried. I really tried to save him.” Ty paused. When he spoke again his voice was shaky. “But, the wound was fatal. There was nothing I could do.”

  He’s lying.

  “You said you’d take care of him.” Her fist clenched at her side. “You assured me he’d be okay.”

  “I... I wish that were the case, but--”

  Melanie disconnected the call and stared at the phone with loathing. How could Ty lie to her like that? Even after she assured him no one could hear? He was supposed to be on their side. Could she - could Danny - could Derek have been so wrong?

  Chapter 23

  The
moment she blew out the candles, Derek knew what his next move would be. His sister’s best friend had been eye-fucking him for three long years, torturing him with her sultry looks and bold gestures. Now that she was eighteen, he finally had the freedom to sample what she offered.

  But Melanie Parker scared the hell out of him. The saucy, flaxen-haired temptress was, by far, the biggest threat he’d ever faced, despite his vow to stay away. She was no more than a girl, newly coming into her own. Surely not a virgin, not with the prowess she demonstrated every time he came within arms-length, but something about her told him she wouldn’t be his usual good time if he were to bed her.

  Friends cheered. As her grandfather beamed with pride, her smile bathed the dark restaurant in sex appeal. This time when Derek’s gaze raked the length of her from her winter sandals to the white sleeveless evening dress, he allowed his imagination to roam where it pleased. Then he caught Emery’s narrow look and felt the heat rise to his face.

  Old man be damned. His sister be damned. Derek just could not shake the image of Melanie beneath him as he fucked the daylights out of her. His jeans became uncomfortable. Before long, he’d lose his chance to get up and wander to the bathroom. So, as Melanie cut her birthday cake, he excused himself.

  Candles lit every table he passed. His coat hung lazily over one arm to hide his erection. A pretty woman from a corner booth sent him a flirtatious smile, but if his instincts were right, he’d have plenty on his hands in a few minutes.

  He followed the signs to a back hallway. After lingering in front of the men’s room for a moment, he glanced toward the other door. The one with the skirt. Without his usual caution, he tapped on that door instead, tested the handle. Unoccupied.

  What was he thinking? There’d been no plan. He was clearly out of his mind. But something told him he wouldn’t be waiting for long.

  Her sandals tapped against the tile floors, proving their cat-and-mouse game was about to come to a mind-blowing head.

  When she rounded the corner, he reached out and took her by the arm. Her startled gasp was cut short when he pulled on the handle of the ladies room and quickly shoved her inside. As he locked the door, her eyes changed from confusion to liquid heat. She knew he was about to take everything she’d offered him in the past... but had bravely refused.

  No words were necessary. There wasn’t time. He bent and claimed her eager mouth, both of them breathless and starving for the kind of attention their bodies demanded. He boxed her against the wall next to the towel dispenser, thrust his rock-hard erection against her belly. Her hands were everywhere, delving beneath his clothing to touch bare skin. The coat he’d brought nearly fell to the floor, but he caught it, steered her toward the vanity. He covered the surface with it and lifted her up.

  The loose white skirt flared around her thighs and his hands roamed between them. They moved upward, found the soft silk of her panties. Her lips broke contact with his and she gasped. His calloused fingertips snagged the delicate fabric, but he continued to stroke the warm cleft between her legs. Melanie threw her head back, bared the slim column of her neck and he tasted the skin there. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so hungry for a woman. With a speed born from desperation, he unbuttoned his fly and freed himself from his pants. He pushed her skirt up further, cupped her buttocks and drew her firmly against him as he thrust his head against the silky barrier. She moaned, rested her forehead against his and they moved in unison. Their chemistry was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. She knew how to move, how to look, how to sound; everything she did drew him in.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked, breathless with need.

  His answer came out rough. “For me to come to my senses.”

  She reached around, found his wallet in his back pocket and pulled it out. With fumbling haste, she removed a condom then let the wallet drop to the floor. Foil ripped. She reached between her legs and took him in her hand, rolled it on as he watched her face. Yes, she’d certainly done this before.

  Now there were no excuses. The last of his barriers slipped away and her torn panties soon joined his discarded wallet. She leaned back on her arms as he hooked his own beneath her knees. When he plunged into her warmth, they both groaned in ecstasy, losing themselves in the moment.

  At first, he took his time. They were both still fully clothed as he slid in and out of her moist heat. A flashback took him to his bedroom when she’d “accidentally” mistaken his door for Danny’s. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, Melanie had feigned shock, turned and sent him an over-the-shoulder wink as she closed the door behind her. He’d been completely bushwhacked, but her stunt had been more than successful. Ever since then, he’d had an aching need to know what was beneath that towel.

  Now, he yanked the beaded straps of her dress down to her elbows, hooked the top of it below the two most beautiful tits he’d ever seen. They bounced with each stroke and he found himself thrusting harder just to watch them move, to feel them glide beneath his palms. The sounds she produced became louder. His pleasure soon reached a boiling point and he knew he’d come if he didn’t slow down.

  He stopped suddenly, collected himself as he lowered his mouth to a pink, plump nipple. “My God, girl, you taste like strawberries.”

  “It’s my body lotion,” she breathed, squirming beneath his mouth. “I know how much you like strawberries.”

  He groaned and began to move inside her again. Unable to withstand the discomfort, he grabbed her by the shoulders, propped a foot onto the counter beside her hip and began to really hammer it in. Just when he feared the combined angle and force was too much for her, she whimpered out a plea for more.

  “That feels so... fucking... good.”

  Unbelievably good. Too good. Her slick walls quivered around his length as she came and her head fell back so hard it rapped against the vanity mirror. The glass cracked, rending a guttural sound from her he’d never heard before. It was as if the violence intensified her climax.

  When that telltale moment of complete fullness overtook him, he held his breath in anticipation. The first pump of release drew from deep down with staggering results. The second nearly swept his knees. The third told him he wasn’t near done. On and on he went until he thought he might cry. Holy Mary Mother of God.

  Derek continued to move inside her until his dick finally gave up the ghost. He collapsed exhaustedly onto her bared breasts and lay between them until he could catch his breath. It was a heavenly place to be.

  “Derek?”

  He held up a finger, begging for more time.

  “Um... I think I’m bleeding.”

  The voices in his head echoed the words until they changed in pitch. Until it was no longer Melanie’s voice he heard.

  “He’s bleeding again.”

  “We’ve established it’s not a lung hit. Go ahead and use the hemostat.”

  Something ripped. He felt a topical burning sensation that awakened an even deeper pain inside his chest.

  “Hold him down.”

  No! His imbedded instinct to revolt against any form of bondage kicked in and Derek began to fight for that ever-elusive freedom he longed for.

  “Dammit, I thought he was under!”

  “I’m not an anesthesiologist, Ty, I gave him a sedative.”

  “Then, give him more!”

  With those words, his nightmares returned.

  ____________

  Melanie propped her shoulder against the door jam and took in the scene. To her left, Rafferty sat struggling in the barber chair with tape on his mouth and rope securing his wrists to his ankles behind him. To her right, Elijah took up his usual seat in the waiting area, closed the newspaper in his hands and reopened it to another page. Her granddad’s old friend and army buddy was completely unfazed by the drama unfolding around him. Of course, two wars and six children could have toughened up whatever rested beneath the gray, fuzzy hair and full beard.

  “Anything yet?”

  Elijah
peered at her down a long, straight nose. “Just a bunch of crying. Never seen a man so light in his drawers before.”

  “He’ll be crying a lot more shortly,” she mumbled, heading toward their trussed-up hostage. “What do you say, Rafferty?” she asked, hands on hips as she looked him over. The well-dressed and well-coifed man who’d bathed her earlier that day was such a pathetic sight, she almost felt sorry for him. The patch covering half his face was beginning to grow ugly with seepage. His hospital gown hung loosely between his hairy legs, which were parted in bondage.

  “Gotta pee?” she asked.

  Grunts and moans.

  “Your big friend took care of that earlier,” Elijah volunteered from his side of the room. “Didn’t want him soiling our chair.”

  “Something to drink, then?”

  The moans turned to wailing.

  “Ah. You must be in pain.”

  Sobs. The man’s nose began to leak. Never before had she been so desensitized to another human being’s suffering.

  “Elijah, why don’t you leave us alone for a while? There’s something Rafferty and I need to discuss.”

  “Melanie.” Austin took up the entire doorway she’d just abandoned. “I don’t want you near him. Just in case.”

  But she was enjoying the view entirely too much. Her nostrils flared. “Fine.” And she left him as Rafferty screamed for her attention beneath the gag. “Guess I’ll let you have all the fun.”

  Austin caught her arm as she tried to pass. His onyx eyes regarded her carefully beneath a set of black brows. “You okay?”

  Far from it. “I’ll be okay when IGP falls.” She felt Elijah’s eyes on her and she glanced tentatively in the old man’s direction before heading to the bathroom. There, she locked the door and flattened her back against it.

  Why? Why was Ty doing this to her? She knew Derek was alive. Felt it deep in her bones, so why did he think she would fall for his lies as easily as Danny did? He’d worked so hard to sound convincing. The man deserved an Oscar.