by M. S. Parker
His eyes flared hot, and he lunged forward, grabbing it and throwing it down, driving his heel down on the mic until it shattered. “Did you think you could fuck with me like that?”
I held out my hands. “Hey, I’m doing what I’m told. The cops wired me up and told me to get my ass up here. I did what they said so I could get here.” I curled my lip and derisively added, “Not like I can say no, now can I?”
“That’s right.” He glared at me. “You’re just a waste of space, an ex-con. You never should have gotten out of jail to begin with.”
A cold wind whipped across the mountain side and I couldn’t keep from shivering. “Did you bring me up to make me freeze my ass off? If not...” I gestured at the clothes.
He shrugged.
I grabbed them, but as I came inside, he pointed to the fireplace. “Burn them. We’ll see if we can’t find something else for you to wear in front of the kid.”
I was still shivering as I hunkered down by the fire, but I took my time as I fed one thing after another in. That had been what Ryan had said they needed. Time.
Haley sat in a chair nearby, looking small and scared. Her eyes met mine and I wanted to tell her it would be okay. But I didn’t. I couldn’t show any more interest in her than I had to. Not in front of Mitchell. He had to think that she wasn’t as important to me as he’d thought.
“You never knew about your other daddy, did you?” Mitchell asked, sitting down on the table close to her, positioned so he could see us both.
Haley ignored him, so he slammed a fist down on the table. She jumped, her eyes going wide.
“Leave the kid alone,” I said, straightening up from my crouch.
“You don’t get to give the orders here.” Mitchell stayed where he was, smiling up at me.
“You wanted me here. I’m here. Now let her go.” Once Haley was safe, I’d find Carly.
“Let her go? But the fun’s just getting started!” He stood, moving with an uneasy, jerky sort of energy. He spread his arms wide as he spun around the room. “Ridley, bring in our other guest.”
As he turned away, I looked at Haley. She was staring at me. Her lips moved. “Is it...?”
The door on the far side of the room opened, cutting her off, and I felt a small measure of relief. I hated that she had to know at all, hated even more that it had happened this way. Carly came stumbling out, crashing into the doorframe before going to her knees.
“Get her fat ass over here,” Mitchell said.
I wanted to curl my hands around his neck and squeeze. Then Ridley emerged from the darkened room, and my knuckles went white as I made fists. His face was a mask.
“Did you hear me?” Mitchell took a step toward me.
If I hadn’t known Ridley so well, I would have missed the flinch. His voice was caustic, rude as ever when he said, “Give me a break, Mitchell. She’s still fighting off the drugs I had to give her to make her be quiet.”
Drugs.
I’d never enjoyed killing, never did it for pleasure or fun, but I was seriously considering making the two of them suffer before I ended them.
“Well, if you hadn’t let your dick do your thinking for you and brought her along, then it wouldn’t be an issue.” Mitchell gave Carly a look of acute disgust before he turned back to me.
In the next moment, Ridley took Carly’s arm. She tried to jerk away, but she was off-balance. Shit, yes. He had drugged her. I could see it in the overly-clumsy way she moved and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see it in her fogged gaze too.
“I wasn’t about to leave her behind,” he said. There was something almost pleading in his eyes when he looked at her, even though his voice stayed cold. “I set all this up to get rid of him. Why would I get him out of the way just to walk away from her?”
“Why would you want her after he touched her?” Mitchell pointed to the couch. “Put her by the kid. I want to see all three of them. In...” He went silent, head cocked.
I heard it in the next moment too, and my gut froze. Cars.
He whirled around, pointing the gun at Haley’s head for a moment before shifting it to Carly. “I told you no cops!”
“I didn’t bring any!” I shouted.
I meant it too. I hadn’t brought any – to the fucking door.
The gun pivoted between the two of them and I knew I couldn’t get to him fast enough to stop him. Couldn’t cover both of them. Ridley shifted, ever so slightly. His eyes moved to Haley and then back to me.
I struggled to breathe. It might kill me, but I knew Carly would understand me choosing Haley over her. I could get to her in time. She was all of two feet away. I could–
“Dad.”
The voice was as loud as a bullhorn and Mitchell froze. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Dad, it’s me. It’s...it’s Dale, Dad. I need to talk to you. Don’t do anything stupid now. I’m coming up.”
* * *
It had been nearly a year since I’d seen Dale and time hadn’t been kind to him.
When he came through the door, he looked at me, at Ridley, then at Carly and the young girl who was still sitting on the chair, clutching at the cushion with fingers that had long since gone white.
When Mitchell looked away from us to his son, I dared to take one small step closer to Haley. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ridley doing the same, moving the smallest itch closer to Carly.
But she was inching closer to me. Shit. I turned my head and glared at her.
Stay, I mouthed. It twisted my heart to do it, but I knew I couldn’t protect them both. I could only hope that what I’d seen in Ridley’s eyes was real, that he would protect Carly.
She narrowed her eyes.
Please.
Her shoulders slumped, but she stopped moving.
“What are you doing here, boy?” Mitchell asked.
Dale spread out his hands. “You’re here and you’re acting crazy. Where else would I be?”
“Crazy!” Mitchell spat on the ground. “I’m doing what should have already been done. I’m making that piece of shit pay. He should pay for what he did and you know it! If you hadn’t been so chickenshit, you would’ve done it yourself!”
“He should pay.” Dale didn’t even look at me as he leaned closer to his dad. “Matter of fact, I heard talk that he’s going back in, Dad. They’re revoking his parole.”
I knew Dale was lying but I had no problem playing along with it.
Mitchell wheeled his head around and stared at me for a second before looking back at his son. He shook his head. “You’re just saying that. They went and got soft on criminals. All this reform bullshit. They let him make a deal and now he’s out here fucking movie stars and getting rich–”
“Dad.” Dale put a hand on his chest. “On my honor. He’s going back in.”
“That’s a damn lie!” I shouted, hoping Mitchell would take my argument as proof.
Dale shot me a dark look. His eyes were full of hate, but I could see a glimmer of something else there. Fear. Fear of losing his father because of this.
“You wish it was, you...” He glanced at the kid and then grimaced. “I can’t say what you are with a kid around. And Dad, come on, she’s a kid. Let me take her out of here. Or let the woman leave with her. You don’t need them.”
Mitchell went to rub at his mouth. “I grabbed the girl because she’s his. You know he had a kid?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I knew.”
“You knew?!” Mitchell grabbed his son’s arm. “All that talk you had about making him suffer, and you knew he had a kid? I had to find out through that son of a bitch!” He jerked a finger back at Ridley.
“She’s just a kid, Dad,” Dale said quietly. He looked at her then. “It doesn’t matter what he did, not when it comes to her. She’s a little girl.”
“She’s his kid!”
Dale stepped between them, cutting off his father’s view of Haley. “She’s not. The woman who gave birth to that kid dumped him,
took off, wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Hell, the little girl won’t even look at him. I bet he doesn’t even know her name. Come on, Dad. Don’t do this. Let’s get the girls out of here. That ditz over there, the little kid. Then we can figure out how to handle Cantrell.”
I never thought I’d be grateful to Dale Mitchell, but I was. I knew he wanted to save his father, not me, but I didn’t care. As long as Haley and Carly were safe, I’d take whatever came next.
“Fine.” Mitchell scowled. “But after that, we’re going to make him pay.”
Dale nodded and I wondered if he was finally going to cross that line from harassment into violence. I didn’t let myself think about it though.
I picked up Haley as Carly got to her feet. If it was the only chance I’d ever have to hold my daughter, I’d make sure I remembered it. I breathed in the scent of her hair – she smelled like bubble gum – and I fought the urge to cuddle her close, keeping the contact as impersonal as I could.
“Take her,” I said, keeping my voice brusque as I pushed her into Carly’s arms.
“I’m not leaving you.” Carly’s voice shook and I could see she was still unsteady, fighting off the effect of the drugs.
“You are.” I practically growled it. Then lower, I whispered, “Please. Get her safe.”
I chanced a glance up the hill, with my eyes only.
She swallowed, then managed a nod, and even a half-smile for me as she lowered Haley to the ground. “You have to walk, honey. I can’t carry you unless we both want to fall down.”
I didn’t think I’d ever loved her more than I did at that moment. And I didn’t dare tell her, either. Better Mitchell think Carly was just some crush or fling. He couldn’t know how much she meant to me.
“Shut the door.”
The cold, hard muzzle of the gun nudged hard against my ribs and I took my time closing the door, keeping my body between him and them, hoping to keep him from seeing even a single strand of blonde hair.
A split second before the door was aligned with the door jam, a hand slammed my face against the solid oak and I tasted blood. It took all my self-control not to spin around and try to beat the shit out of Mitchell.
“You got any idea how many times I’ve thought about getting my hands on you, boy?” Mitchell snarled in my ear. “How many times I’ve thought about beating you bloody? Tearing you apart, piece by piece, by piece?”
“Dad.”
“Shut up!” Mitchell’s voice was a bellow in my ear, one I had no problem hearing despite the roar of blood in my ears and the pounding that had taken up residence.
I grunted, or tried to, as he slammed the gun against the back of my neck. Pain shot up my skull and down my spine. I forced myself to think, to use my head instead of my fists.
“Those stupid bitches are gone now, right? That’s all you were...”
The gun wedged against the back of my neck eased and I sucked in air. The heavy weight of Mitchell’s body pinning me to the door fell away and I half-turned, half-staggered away, falling against the corner as I took in the scene in front of me. Blood splattered hot down my chest. My nose was probably broken again, but that was the least of my concerns.
Detective Dale Mitchell was holding a baby Glock on his dad.
Fuck me.
I spit some blood onto the floor, but didn’t say anything as I watched the scene play out in front of me.
“You need to put that thing down, son,” Mitchell said softly. “You know you ain’t going to use that on me.”
“Two civilians in here, Dad.” Dale shook his head. “And you had a kid in here, Dad. You kidnapped a little girl, for fuck’s sake. You think I can just let that slide?”
“Kid’s gone. It’s just us now. Civilians, right?” He snorted and threw a glance at Ridley. “You think that man there is some injured party here? He’s the one who helped me find that...”
Ridley looked away.
“He isn’t going to side with you here, Dad. He’s out.”
“I say when he’s out!” Mitchell spun, his eyes landing on me.
There I was, wearing nothing more than the damn boxer briefs I’d pulled on that morning, and the damn microphone they’d shoved in my ear, and I had a gun pointed at me. There wasn’t anybody in the world who had more reason to hate me than these three men, and two of them had guns. I wasn’t sure things could’ve gotten any worse.
But I shouldn’t have thought that.
Because things could always get worse.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“He thinks I should just let you go,” Mitchell said. The gun in his hand had finally started to shake.
As I watched, he reached up and dashed his free hand across his eyes.
The old man was crying.
Stupid son of a bitch that I was, I almost felt sorry for him.
“Dad...”
“Don’t move!” Mitchell shouted, his voice cracking. The gun came back to me and he shouted, “Get over there. With them. You sorry son of a bitch. Get over there, where I can see all of you.”
I did what he said, keeping a wide distance. As I moved, I was absently aware of the fact that I was cold. The fire had died down, half-smothered by the Kevlar vest I’d had to throw in with the rest of my clothes. Not that it would matter much in a little while.
Mitchell wanted me dead, and I didn’t think Ridley was going to argue with that. For reasons I hadn’t quite yet worked out in my head, though, Detective Dale Mitchell seemed to have taken an opposing view.
“Where are his clothes, Dad?”
“Burned them.” Mitchell smiled, despite the tears that continued to track down his face. “The dumb-ass cops sent him in here with a wire, thought I wouldn’t check. My son’s a cop.” His lip curled as he said it and the way he spat the words my son made it clear just what he thought of that connection just then.
If Dale was bothered by it, he didn’t let it show. He just nodded and looked around. “This place is probably heated by the fireplace and a generator. It’s cold in here. You plan on letting him get hypothermia before you kill him or what? Let him get some clothes on.”
“I don’t care if he turns to ice in front of me,” Mitchell sneered.
“I do.” Dale glanced over at Ridley. “Get him a shirt, some pants.”
“Don’t,” Mitchell warned.
“Do it,” Dale snapped.
When his father rounded on him, Dale strode forward, his eyes blazing. “You going to shoot me because I don’t want a man freezing his ass off in front of me? Then do it. Go on! Do it!”
He was close enough now to grab the muzzle of his father’s gun.
For a second, I waited, motionless. I was afraid to breathe, afraid to move, afraid to even blink.
Then Mitchell swore and lowered the gun, backing away. “How did I raise such a fucking pussy?” He turned his head and spat on the floor, the disgust coming from him in waves.
If he thought Dale putting himself in front of a loaded gun made his son a pussy, we had very different definitions of what that term meant.
A muscle pulsed in Dale’s cheek and he shot me a look. I couldn’t quite decipher it. If he hated me, fine. If he let his father shoot me right there, I would go to my grave thankful.
He’d gotten Haley out. He’d gotten Carly out. The two things in my world that really mattered and he’d taken care of them. I’d be indebted to him for the rest of my life, however long that ended up being.
A moment later, a bundle of clothes were shoved into my arms and I looked up just in time to see Ridley shuffle around me. He slid me a look then glanced down at the clothes. Then away. At the clothes, then away.
The clothes...
I tightened my hold on them. They were a damn sight heavier than they needed to be for a sweatshirt and jeans.
What in the hell?
Casually, I managed to turn slightly. It took more fumbling than I liked, and then my entire world froze down to nothing as I awkwardly shove the palm-sized p
istol inside the front of my jockeys one-handed as I pretended to fumble with the sweatshirt. They were apparently Ridley’s clothes and too big. Ridley wasn’t much taller than I was, but he was massive, broad as a damn barn. The sweatshirt went past my hips, and the sweats weren’t much better. I felt like a kid trying to fit into his big brother’s clothes...with a gun lodged next to my unprotected cock.
“Hurry your miserable ass up, Cantrell,” Mitchell said.
“I am, I am,” I said as my teeth started to chatter. He’d kept Haley in this place for who knew how long. No heat on or anything, just that miserable little fire that hadn’t done shit to dispel the chill in the air.
I wanted to strip Mitchell naked and leave him up in the mountains to freeze to death.
“Why did you let Carly leave?” Ridley asked.
His voice was wrong somehow. Flat. Almost...well, if I had to make a stab at it, I’d say he sounded the exact way most people would assume he sounded. He was big and solid, and until you had to deal with him, Ridley struck most people as some all-brawn-and-no-brains type. He didn’t look like he had a near genius IQ. He was a mean bastard, and he sure as hell looked like he could be, but he was smart. Now, though, he sounded like the grown-up version of some high school bully who had fought and blustered his way through life.
“She wasn’t necessary,” Mitchell said.
“The only reason I even helped you–”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up.”
I chanced a glance in the mirror, and saw that Ridley had moved to stand between Mitchell and me. Taking the brief chance he’d given me, I palmed the gun and shoved it into the slash-styled pocket of the pants. I took a minute to tie the waistband as tight as I could and pull the sweatshirt back into place. The oversized shirt was baggy enough to hide the lump and I wondered if Ridley had picked his biggest clothes for that reason. Of course, hiding it there would hinder my chance to go for it, but there was no way to secure it anywhere else.
“You need to move your dumb ass out of my face,” Mitchell said when Ridley tried to push again about Carly. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re pissed your little whore’s gone.”
