Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “I hate how she hurt both of you, but you’re right. Enough. I’m well and truly finished with feeling guilty for a moment of weakness. I’m just human.”

  “See?” Arnie murmured. “You’re pointing out what I was trying to say.”

  His father nodded—the light of understanding shone in his eyes.

  Wasn’t this what the circle of life was about? Sons learning from the missteps and mistakes of their father? His father’s guilt and Stan’s regrets were real. Arnie admitting he wasn’t a superhuman, all-knowing oracle was also real.

  Well, it all ended tonight. Come hell, a crazy witch, or high water—a line had been drawn in the sand.

  Now all they had to do was wait for Giselle to cross it.

  Summer was a ball of nervous energy. If this were a gymnastics meet, she’d channel the power inward and use it to nail her routine.

  Eighteen regular steps or seven giant strides took her wall-to-arch in the living room as she moved back and forth like a sentry on night duty.

  She kept Ari close. Instead of putting her down for the night in the bedroom, she slept nearby in the playpen.

  Feeling in her jeans pockets for her keys and phone, she kept reviewing her options, starting with regret for not packing up and going to a hotel.

  It was almost midnight. The quiet was loud. Too loud. Every whisper of a sound made her tense up.

  Occasional clouds shrouding the moon threw the backyard into darkness. Trees and bushes swaying in a strong breeze gave life to the shadows. Summer scanned the yard, then glanced around her apartment.

  She’d turned off or covered up every light source to balance the outdoor darkness with the indoor. Was it weird she knew to do this? Binge-watching crime dramas on Netflix explained her actions. TV was definitely where she got the idea to make a visual buffer in front of the windows by stacking random crap.

  Her hands were cold. She tugged on the sleeves of a black turtleneck to cover them. Her clenched fists acted like pushpins holding the cuffs in place.

  Months and months of fear coalesced in a tight ball deep inside. She went on the run because of fear. Fear ripped her life in two, but a funny thing happened along the way. Now, she was jaded—as in, she’d had enough. If the evil trolls who set all this in motion wanted to come at her, then bring it on. Maybe when she was pregnant, Summer had been a bit of an easy target, but those days were gone. She was more than ready, willing, and able to kick ass without taking names.

  Confidence surged. This was a part of what being a mama was all about. You fuck with my kid, and it’ll be the last thing you do.

  Yeah. She was ready to take her life back.

  Her eyes went to the shadow box. The subtle glow she noticed before was still evident—maybe only to her eyes, but they were her treasures, so it made sense.

  Remembering everything about the day she tested Arnie with a grueling hike over what was essentially an obstacle course, she felt even more confidence pour into her system. It had been a bold move on her part to be so assertive. It was Arnie’s influence. He made her feel infinite.

  She didn’t understand why any of this was happening, but she was absolutely certain of one thing. Arnie stood on the other side of whatever this was. If she wanted to be with him, it was time to confront the threat.

  Conscious of what she needed to do, Summer’s head filled with a thousand threads—all of them loose ends. Putting them in order was next to impossible.

  She felt Arnie’s energy but wasn’t sure if it came from the baby.

  Someone was out to harm her and Ari—these were facts.

  Plain and simple—whoever probed into her brother’s military life had balls. If it turned out to be Arnie, she was sure it was another sign.

  Like a sudden down blast of stormy weather, something new dawned on her. What if her annoying neighbor Todd and his way too curious interest in her life was in some way connected? Connected to what? She grimaced. If only she knew.

  A chill danced up and down her spine.

  Was creepy Todd responsible for the shadows she saw moving in the night? It would make sense. After all, he was right next door.

  Next door. Hmm. He’d moved in after she’d taken up residence in Bud and Lynda’s guesthouse.

  Oh, my god. Was he watching her?

  She recalled Bud’s angry reaction to the drone he was convinced had a nefarious purpose. Was it possible the drone was Todd getting a look at the back of the Gerry’s property?

  The threads wove together. Her tension turned to panic. She’d inadvertently exposed herself and Ari to the very thing she’d been carefully trying to avoid.

  And then her brain nearly exploded.

  The woman she saw at Todd’s? The one with the back curls? The way she tilted her head had struck a chord in Summer. It hit her like a thunderbolt. Maleficent. The woman who tried to intimidate her and take her baby. She tilted her head the same way.

  Holy fuck.

  Jolting into action, she lifted the baby from her playpen, deftly nestled the sleeping child into a baby sling, and ran to the apartment door.

  She looked back right before her hand reached for the doorknob. There was a popping sound and then another. The backyard floodlights went out. Shadows moved outside the guesthouse window. Holding her breath, she silently slipped out the door and closed it.

  Summer knew leaving the house to get in the car made her and Ari easy targets. Sticking to the plan in her head, she unlocked the vestibule door to the driveway and created a false trail by cracking it open slightly. Then she backtracked, and using her key, she quietly slipped into the main house.

  Finding a hiding place in someone else’s house wasn’t easy. The last thing she wanted to do was end up trapped without an escape route. There was a small den next to the master bedroom. It had a door leading to Bud and Lynda’s private patio in the side yard. If she had to haul ass and make a run for it, slipping away through the side yard gate was a solid plan.

  She spied a chair in the shadows and went to it. Her foot kicked something as she sat down. A box of tile samples Lynda was considering for a new backsplash sat open by the leg of the chair.

  Tile samples? Summer blinked. She reached into her pocket and took her phone out. Covering the light from the tiny screen, she searched her contacts and made a call with her fingers crossed.

  Just as a voice answered, she heard the sound of breaking glass.

  “Hello? Summer?”

  “Stan? Help.”

  31

  Everything happened at once.

  A thunderbolt of hyperawareness lit him up and stole the breath from his lungs.

  His father was watching the front of the Gerry’s house. He called from his lookout post, “Arnie, something’s happening.”

  Before he could react, Stan ran into the room. “The backyard lights are out. I heard popping sounds. Might have been a from a pistol.” He sucked air into his heaving chest. “And Summer called. She needs help.”

  Swiftly pulling on the black mask, Arnie issued commands. “Stan. The flash devices. Exactly as Milo instructed. Time them carefully. Green, yellow, and red.”

  “Understood.”

  “Dad?” Arnie sighed, and said, “Sorry.” He took the gun out of his waistband and handed it off. “Whatever you do, don’t shoot. Let me handle things.”

  Having previously gone over everyone’s role in detail, they moved out in silence. It felt like he was back in the war, leading a squad into danger. He gestured to Stan. His brother was to move across the front of the house, get eyes on whatever he could through the windows, and then slip down the side.

  Arnie signaled to his dad, and they stealthily snuck through the Gerry’s privacy fence. Right away, he noticed the outside door was slightly ajar. He pointed at it and stared intently at his father. Did Summer slip out?

  His father’s head shook twice. He mimed his hands on a steering wheel, and Arnie nodded his understanding. If she slipped out, it wasn’t to go for a leisurely stroll.
Summer’s car was still in the driveway. They’d seen it just now.

  Inside the small vestibule, he had a decision to make. After touching the doorknobs for both residences and finding each unlocked, he clenched his jaw.

  What was the possibility of Summer knowing she was in danger and taking action?

  Well, she went into hiding right after Giselle made her threat, so the probability was high.

  He motioned to the guesthouse and took two steps toward the main house. His dad motioned a thumbs-up and quietly opened the snowman-covered door. He slipped inside, and Arnie did the same, quietly entering the Gerry’s home.

  Moving cautiously from room to room, he spied broken glass in a back hallway and froze. A window was wide open. At least one person was inside the house.

  What would Summer do? Where would she go to evade danger?

  He recalled every detail of the Gerry’s property. The broken window was near the side of the house—the side without adequate security.

  The likelihood of more than one intruder grew exponentially.

  Creeping farther into the dark hallway with his senses on high alert, he peeked around a half-open door, detected nothing, and moved on.

  A sound rendered him motionless. Where had it come from? A grunt followed by a thud sent him forward at Mach speed. At the exact second the first flash device went off outside, he burst through the half-open door.

  Two figures, both wearing black, were scuffling near the open door to the side patio. His nose detected a sweet chemical scent. Arnie moved closer, identified the unmistakable smell of cheap chloroform, and realized he was dealing with a rank amateur. The knockout chemical had more legend than effectiveness. One whiff did not put anyone on the floor. For it to work, continual exposure was necessary.

  The scene became a fright movie when the terrifying screeches of an angry feline cut through the air. The scuffle went supersonic. He struggled to see in the darkness but only got a glimpse of a house cat using its claws to shred one of the black-clad figure’s legs.

  Howls of pain cut through the darkness, followed by the howler screaming, “You bitch!”

  The person backed away and into the shifting moonlight streaming in through the door.

  Arnie’s mouth dropped. A stranger with bloody scratches on one cheek was pulling a knitting needle out of his shoulder.

  Arnie realized the other black-wearing figure was Summer when she screamed, “Fuck you, Todd,” and lunged at him.

  In the changing darkness, the only way to pick out two distinct bodies was to follow Summer’s golden head. She was on fire but so was her assailant. The scuffle continued for a few seconds until the second flash device exploded. This time, the windows rattled, and the air filled with smoke.

  He seized the moment and sprang into action. Stopping the brawl with his unexpected presence, he took advantage of their surprise.

  “What the fuck?” Todd snarled. He threw a chloroform-soaked cloth at Arnie’s head as if a passing whiff was going to save his sorry ass.

  Unaware who she was fighting, Summer punched him in the stomach and tried to run, but the third and most powerful explosion detonated and halted her escape with a thick, dense cloud.

  Seconds later, raised voices and high-pitched screeching sent chills up and down his spine.

  Shit. Something was going down either inside Summer’s guesthouse or in the backyard.

  Without a second to spare, Arnie lunged. He took Summer’s arm and yanked her close. At the same time, he used his free hand to grab Todd’s neck and slam his head into the wall. He dropped to the floor like a rock.

  Arnie never stopped moving and hauled Summer after him as he ran through the open door and into the backyard.

  “Let go of me!” she screamed and fought like a hellion.

  He didn’t have time to explain—not when he heard his father’s raised voice, a cackling laugh, and Stan’s angry snarl followed by a gunshot.

  Dragging a spitting and snarling she-devil behind him, he rushed through the open door to the smoke-filled guesthouse. Without time to ascertain what was happening, he pinpointed his father and shoved Summer into his arms a split second before all holy hell exploded.

  Giselle was visible through the smoky darkness. She was screaming craziness and waving a gun.

  “Mom!” Stan hollered. “What the fuck?”

  Arnie squinted and found his brother kneeling in the middle of the room. He had a wild look on his face and a large blood splotch staining the shirt on his shoulder.

  In the split second it took Arnie to get the whole picture, Giselle went nuts. She saw him, picked up a dining chair, and flung it at his chest. He took the brunt of the impact but stayed standing.

  “Goddammit, Giselle!” Ned Wanamaker hollered. His face was angry red, and he had a murderous glint in his eyes. “You shot your own son. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “What?” Summer’s face was a mask of shock. “Who are you people?”

  “Give me that baby,” Giselle snarled. Through the clearing smoke, she pointed the gun at Summer

  Arnie flew into action. Moving with incredible speed, he came at Giselle with everything he had. She surprised him by not surrendering. Knowing she was trapped brought out the fight in her.

  They got into a physical scuffle. Fueled by manic strength, she kept coming. He smacked the gun from her hand, but she jumped on him, slamming him backward into a wall. Up close and personal, the woman he always thought was crazy proved it tenfold. She scratched and bit. In the melee, she ripped off his mask.

  “You son of a bitch!” she screamed when his identity was revealed. “I hate you, you fucking piece of privileged shit.”

  She shoved him sideways, banging his already injured hip against a solid cabinet. Barking with pain, he reached for her, ready to snap her in half like a twig when she picked up the gun and pointed it at his face.

  “There is no end to how much I hate you, Darnell. You and your stuck-up family always treated me like dirt.”

  “Because you are dirt!” he screamed angrily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He waved his hand at Stan. “You shot your own son? Who the fuck does that?”

  “Stan was supposed to have a kid. Then that bastard holding the purse strings would never be able to get rid of me. It should have been Stan,” she screamed. “Not you.”

  Unbelievably, the crazy bitch cocked the gun. He almost laughed. All he had to do was reach out with two fingers, touch her neck, and she’d be out cold. His cockiness disappeared when Summer growled, “No!” and broke free of his father’s restraint.

  Everybody moved at once. An object swung, knocking Giselle to the side. She pulled the trigger, and a bullet whizzed past his face, hitting the framed picture of Tintagel, causing it to crash to the floor.

  A free-for-all ensued. Summer dropped the lamp she used to hit Giselle. His father lunged, throwing his body weight against his ex-wife, dead center. Even after the witch hit the floor, she refused to give up.

  Arnie jumped into the middle of the fracas, but it was Stan who wrestled the gun from his mother’s hands. She screeched vile ugliness and went even crazier. Somehow, she slithered from their grasp and immediately went after Summer.

  He, Stan, and their father scrambled to their feet as the two women got into it. Giselle was trying to take something from Summer, but their struggling actions prevented him from seeing clearly.

  “Get your filthy paws off my daughter,” Summer shrieked so loud he wouldn’t have been surprised if she woke the whole neighborhood.

  Then in slow motion, she hauled her arm back and punched forward, smashing her fist into Giselle’s face. Blood and spittle exploded from Giselle’s mouth. Then because punching someone wasn’t badass enough, his golden girl picked up her leg, pivoted to a defensive posture, and kicked Giselle in the stomach so hard she flew backward into a wall and slithered to the ground half-conscious.

  Standing over her like an avenging angel, Summer had her hands clenched i
n fists, ready to do god only knew what. It was a beautiful sight.

  “Move and I swear to God, you’ll be swallowing your teeth.”

  Wow. Summer kicking ass was ridiculously hot.

  “Dad,” Stan mumbled before dropping to his knees.

  Arnie felt the burn of Summer’s glare. She gave the same glare to his dad. “Do either of you know how to call an ambulance, or must I do that too?”

  When he told this part of the story to King and Jon, he was going to leave out how his dick reacted to her ballsy attitude.

  While his father dealt with Stan and Summer guarded Giselle, Arnie alerted his LAPD contact before placing the 911 call for an ambulance and officer assist.

  A noise he didn’t recognize caught his attention. He scratched his head and looked around for the source.

  “Can I bother you to deal with this?” Summer snarled in a less than friendly tone. She gestured to Giselle, gave him a disbelieving glare, made him feel like an idiot, and turned away.

  She went to Stan and his dad, asking, “Ned? Is it really Ned?”

  He nodded.

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “Summer,” Stan mumbled. “I tried to stop her. Is the baby okay?”

  Summer patted something hanging near her stomach. “She’s fine, Stan. Slept through everything in her sling until just a moment ago. Thank you,” she murmured to Stan. “And thank you,” she said to his dad.

  Did she also thank him? Abso-fucking-lutely not. All he got was an angry glare.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she muttered before marching right past him as though he wasn’t even there. He watched her stomp through an archway into the guesthouse bedroom. He waited for the door to slam and was surprised when it didn’t.