Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

  He shook his head in disgust. “You really don’t see it, do you? You want to talk about selfish? I know now what I put you through. I get it.” He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m ashamed of what I did to you. You saw me broken and beaten, nursed me back to health, and then I betrayed you by going back to the repo business. I honestly don’t deserve to be with you.”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks and burned her sensitive eyes. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Let me finish. I don’t know exactly what happened to you in that house today, but between what you’ve said, and how Harrison came out of there, my imagination has been running a horror film in my head. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared, not in combat, and not when a bunch of guys were beating the hell out of me.” He stepped forward, gently touched her face. “But you’re still willing to put yourself in a position where you could end up hurt or dead. You’re doing exactly what you’ve accused me of doing.” He dropped his hand. “Until a few days ago, I never promised to quit the repo business. Whether you stay or go, I still intend to get out of it. But the difference is you promised to quit ATL, now your breaking that promise.”

  “There’s a big difference,” she said, defensive.

  “Explain it to me.”

  As his words sank in, she stared at her husband. While she did, the memory of Liam snapping Eliot’s neck replaced Cash’s face. She lightly touched the lump on her head from where the bastard had slammed her skull against the door. She couldn’t explain the difference. Her job had landed her in the hospital, and if she hadn’t had her switchblade, or if Cash hadn’t been in the house at the right time, she might not be standing in front of him now. But she still couldn’t shake the fact that she had let that monster go. She didn’t care if her guilt for what he could do to other innocents was premature. She cared about stopping him. Cash was hurting right now. Once he thought all of this through, he’d realize the importance of the situation and that she needed to remain employed by ATL.

  “I need to go to Everglades City anyway,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “My things are there, and I doubt you expected me to be moved back in by the end of the week. Let me just see how things are going, what Lola has learned, if Rodney has talked.” She let out a deep breath. “Just give me some time.”

  “We’ve already wasted two years.”

  “That’s on you.”

  He nodded and looked away. “You’re right. Is this your way of punishing me? You do enjoy the whole tit for tat thing.”

  “Not at all. Come on, Cash, why was it okay for you to keep working your job, but I can’t work mine? Think about it. You were risking your life to repossess cars. At least I’m willing to risk mine to save lives.” The shock widening his eyes had her regretting her words. She latched onto his arm when he moved past her. He shook her off. “Wait,” she said, walking after him. “I don’t want to fight. I spent the day fighting to come home to you.”

  He turned on her. “While I spent the day drinking beer and swimming in the pool. Christ.” He shook his head. “Watching you get in that woman’s car with Harrison was like the beginning of dying a slow death. Knowing where you were, then finding out who had you…I wanted to tell Lola to go to hell and go after you.”

  “Then you know exactly how I felt every single time you went on a repo job.”

  “Then you should know that staying with ATL will screw up our marriage,” he shouted. When Dolly barked from the kitchen, he looked toward the bedroom door. “Get some sleep. I need to take care of Dolly.”

  As he left the room, her heart broke. She collapsed on the bed and finally allowed herself to let go. She cried for Harrison, for the others that Adeline and Rodney Archer had murdered. Cried for herself, for the misery she’d endured, for the terror she’d gone through. Mostly she cried for Cash. She loved him so much. Why couldn’t he understand she needed to right the wrong she’d created, that she would come back to him? After spending two years waiting on him, the least he could do was give her a couple of weeks or months.

  Exhaustion set in, and she forced her body to move under the blankets. Cash’s scent was everywhere. While it wasn’t the same as having him hold her in his arms, it would be enough for tonight. Maybe once he took the time to think over what they’d argued about, he’d realize he was wrong about her and them. They’d been through so much together. Their relationship could handle this.

  But as she started to doze, instead of memories of the monster, the people who’d held her prisoner, the fire…only one thing filled her mind. The fear in her husband’s eyes.

  Cash and Mel’s House, Tallahassee, Florida

  Tuesday, 11:47 a.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  Cash sat at the patio table, his dog by his side. When he stopped scratching Dolly behind the ear, she nudged him with her nose. He looked down at the dog. Her big brown eyes held the same kind of worry that weighed heavily on his heart.

  He’d never been good with using words to express his emotions. When his therapist had brought this subject up during one of their sessions, he’d considered telling the man to go fuck himself, but had thought better of it. After all, he’d been the one to seek out a therapist, and had done so to improve the issues he knew were keeping him and Mel apart. Honestly, until his therapist had told him that not everyone left, that his mom had been a selfishly poor excuse of a parent, that risking his life on a daily basis—whether in the Army or on a repo job—was his way of avoiding commitment, he hadn’t realized he’d been sabotaging his relationship with Mel. That he’d been using the rush of adrenaline to keep from worrying about being rejected.

  He’d grown up in the ’hood, had graduated from the school of hard knocks, and rejection had never been part of his vocabulary. Worrying about someone leaving him had never crossed his mind until the day Dolly had taken a hit. Because his dog had meant everything to him, his perspective on life had changed. When the two of them had returned to Tallahassee, he’d started thinking about his mom, and had even decided to pay her a visit to tell her that he’d made it home in one piece. She’d been so messed up on whatever drug she had been doing when he’d gone to Iraq, she had forgotten he was even in the Army. He had left, angry at her, angry with himself for bothering, but had gone back to her again after he’d opened his own garage, and business had started going well. Her response had been, “Good, I could use some money.” Although hurt, he’d given his mom a couple hundred dollars, then washed his hands of her.

  Sometimes he really hated his therapist. The man wasn’t even sitting at his patio table, and he was in his head. Telling him that Mel’s leaving wasn’t rejection. She was trying to find her way through what she’d experienced, and trying desperately to rid herself of guilt she had no business carrying. She hadn’t known that the guy she’d set free had been warped into a psychopath. After she’d cut his ropes, anything the man had done, or would do, wouldn’t be on her shoulders, but Adeline and Rodney’s. No one could ever fault her for caring enough that she had risked her life—when she’d known damn well the house had been on fire—to save a total stranger.

  She had faulted herself.

  Now his wife would leave him again, not because of his job, but for hers. Now he knew the true meaning of having the tables turned. Only he wouldn’t wait two years for her. Maybe that made him a hypocrite, but he didn’t care. She didn’t have to do this. The original case was closed. ATL, the GBI, FBI, or CORE could handle this new investigation. He was tired of being without her. He wanted to finally settle down, enjoy being married, start the family they’d talked about. If that made him selfish, so what? It was their turn at happiness.

  He knew how stubborn his woman could be. Nothing he would say could change her mind. While he loved that about her, he didn’t right now. He wanted to persuade her, but she had to stay with him on her terms. He had every intention of being honest, though. He would not wait. He might never move on, and couldn’t imagine himself with another woman, but he refused to live in li
mbo for an undetermined amount of time. They both deserved better than that.

  The glass door behind him slid smoothly on the track. Dolly turned her head and perked her ears, while the coffee he’d drank earlier soured in his stomach.

  “I’m ready,” Mel said.

  “What about your things?”

  She pulled a patio chair away from the table, then sat. “I only brought a small bag.”

  “I’m talking about the stuff you left in the closet, pictures on the wall, things in the kitchen cabinets I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be used for.”

  She stared at him with disappointment. “Those things haven’t bothered you for two years.”

  “You haven’t been here, so how could you know?”

  She tightened her jaw, and looked away. “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t fair.”

  “No, what’s not fair is you choosing your guilt over us.”

  When she met his gaze, he couldn’t help loving the fire in her eyes. “This isn’t just about guilt.” She pressed her hands against the table. “Do whatever you want with my stuff. But I want the chandelier from my closet. Just let me know how much the shipping costs.” She stood, then walked over to Dolly. After hugging the dog and kissing her on the head, she stood and faced him. “Are you going to walk me to my car?”

  His head and heart screamed for him to move out of the chair and find some way to convince her to stay. His pride kept him seated. “You go back to your swamp and figure out a way to get rid of your guilt.”

  “You’re such a jerk.”

  “Fully aware.” Unable to pretend he was okay with this, he shoved the chair back and stood. “I know all about guilt. I’ve lived with it since you moved out of here. I’m not about to rehash the past two years, or my reasons for keeping us apart. You know about them, I thought you accepted them. Maybe I thought wrong.” He shook his head and decided to put himself out there one last time. “Do you feel any guilt about putting your job before me?”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Of course.”

  “Do you love your job more than me?”

  “Fuck you for even asking me that. I never gave up on us, even when you chose your job over me.”

  “I didn’t choose the job over you. I told you I—”

  “Couldn’t handle the rejection. I heard you the first time.”

  “That wasn’t too bitchy.”

  She swiped tears from her face. “We’re both in a bad place right now. You cool off, I’ll do the same, and I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  “Don’t bother,” he said, hating himself for meaning it. “I can’t have you coming and going in my life anymore. I love you, I want to be married to you, but not like this.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked away, tears streaming down her face. “That would leave only one alternative.”

  He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Right. I want a divorce.”

  Mel’s Rental House, Everglades City, Florida

  Tuesday, 8:11 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  When the doorbell rang, Mel glanced from the six-pack sitting next to a bag of wilted lettuce, to the microwave clock. A miniscule amount of hope fluttered in her chest. If Cash had left not too long after she had, he could be standing on her front stoop. She wouldn’t kid herself though. He’d made it clear, hadn’t even bothered with the ultimatum that she’d been waving in his face for the past few months. He had come right out and told her what he’d wanted.

  Divorce.

  Whoever was at her door needed to go away. She wasn’t in the mood for company, and needed to lose herself in the garage. During the seven-hour drive home, she’d replayed every detail, practically every second that had transpired since she’d knocked on Cash’s door—their door—six days ago. Six days. So much had happened in such a short time. How could she have reconciled her relationship with her husband, stopped a deranged couple from continuously kidnapping, drugging and murdering homeless people, nearly succumb to the same fate only to set a murderer free and lose her husband in the process?

  If she didn’t have bad luck, she wouldn’t have any at all.

  The doorbell rang again, and she remembered that she’d called Barney earlier, hoping to talk with him tonight. She’d wanted to tell him about Cash, the marriage she’d kept secret, then ask him for advice. Too sad and tired to do any talking, she released a frustrated sigh and berated herself for the impulsive call to Barney. She closed the refrigerator, then headed for the front door. When she opened it, she jerked back. “Harrison.” She pushed open the screen door and let him inside. “You’re back?” she asked, hugging him.

  He stiffened and patted her back. “Obviously.” He stepped away. “I’m wondering why you are.”

  She waved him off, and led him into the kitchen. “I didn’t think you’d be home until tomorrow. When I spoke with Lola this morning, she said your last toxicology report still showed traces of the drug.”

  He shrugged. “I discharged myself. It’s not like the doctors could have me arrested.” He looked to the fridge. “I’ll have a beer if you’ve got one.”

  “Not with the drug in your system. You have no idea how alcohol will react with it,” she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

  After an eye roll, he opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a beer anyway. “The only way Lola would agree to letting me on Shane’s Cessna was if I went to her doctor once we landed.” He popped the cap off the beer bottle and sat across from her. “Which I did, five hours ago. He took a sample of my urine, had it tested…I’m good.”

  “How are you and Vlad?”

  He took a long drink, then set the bottle on the table. “How are you and Cash?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Did I ever tell you that Vlad was ordered to cut out my brother’s tongue?”

  Her skin prickled at the thought. “You’re not serious.”

  “Unfortunately, I am. He didn’t end up having to, but I asked him later if he would’ve gone through with it. He said, yes. He also told me that if he’d been ordered to, he’d do the same to me, but that ‘Vlad would not like to hurt Harry’.” He lifted his beer. “You don’t go through that kind of shit with a guy, and lose it over a gator. And yes, I know our issues aren’t just about me being forced to live with a wild predator who’d have no problem adding me to the food chain.”

  “So what’s the real issue?”

  He pulled at the beer label. “I’ve been thinking about my brother a lot lately. The anniversary of his death wasn’t too long ago, and it had me wondering about the future. Don’t get me wrong, I love working for ATL, but how long will this gig last? How long will I be forced to live with a giant, chain-smoking Russian?” He sighed. “As crazy as you and Cash are, you two have it going on, do you realize that? I mean, you have a nice house, the garage, it’s clear you two love each other…I’d like that some day, minus the crazy part.”

  She forced a grin. “I suppose it’s hard to date with your schedule.”

  “I need to…” His cheeks reddened as he looked away. “I feel like we need to talk about what happened at the House of Archer.”

  She touched his hand. “Only if you want to, otherwise, it’s okay. You came back for me. If you hadn’t, I’m not sure I could’ve made it down the attic steps. Cash wouldn’t have found me, or—”

  “I’m sorry I called you stupid, or for anything else inappropriate I said. I know you know it was the drug doing the talking, but I still owe you an apology.” When he met her gaze, the shame in his eyes had her throat tightening. “I haven’t been with a woman for almost as long as you and Cash have been separated. While you two were choosing to stay apart, I chose not to pay for a prostitute. I’m not exactly the best candidate for online dating, and I doubt many women are interested in a guy who lives with a Vlad and an alligator. Let’s face it, on paper, I make minimum wage booking tours for an airboat company.” He took another long drink f
rom the bottle. “To have Adeline…do what she did to me, in front of you…” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s pretty sad that I have to be kidnapped and drugged to get a woman to touch me.”

  “It’s not funny,” she said, wiping tears from her cheeks and reliving the horrible memory.

  “Never said it was.” He looked at her, while the shame remained, anger was also banked in his eyes. “Last night, when I was in the hospital, I kept hearing you cry. The sound was awful. Sometimes I was awake when I heard it, other times it was just a nightmare. Vlad was in the room through every one of those episodes. He asked why I was sweating and shaking. At first I told him it was the drug leaving my system—which was the truth. But around four in the morning, I told him what happened.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “You know what Vlad said? ‘Better to have dick sucked than cut. Harry worry too much.’ But I told him I wasn’t worried about me, I was worried about you, and how you’d look at me. You’re this tiny, beautiful hard-ass. You don’t let anything get to you. Until I saw you with Cash, I thought you possessed the emotional range of a sarcastic teenager to a knife-wielding girly-girl.”

  Between berating herself over leaving Cash, questioning her choice to remain with ATL and the guilt from setting a killer free, she didn’t need this from Harrison. She’d take what he had to say, only because she cared about him and knew he was trying to work through what was going on in his head.

  “I’d like to think I’m more than that,” she said, trying to keep the hurt from her voice.

  “You definitely are. I’ve never met anyone like you, and doubt I ever will again. When I saw you with Cash, I realized that you’re still all those things, but you’d been hiding from everyone. I knew you were loyal, could be trusted, could be counted on, otherwise I would’ve refused to work jobs with you. But I didn’t realize how sweet and thoughtful you are until I saw you with Bobby, how vulnerable you are until I saw you with Cash. How much I care about you, or how much I need our friendship. Do you know how many people have cried for me? For what I might be going through?” He raised his index finger, then pointed it at her. “Why are you crying now?”