One Wild Weekend With Luther

by Lexi Hart

  His gun arm stays locked on me as he edges closer. He’s not saying anything, so I press on. “Was she the one who suggested you repaint and rename your boat?”

  His shoulders go rigid. “What if she was?”

  I’m struggling to stay upright, my vision is fading in and out, and I know if I give him an inch, he’ll shoot me without hesitation. “Did she suggest you take it out for a spin just before the bomb went off?”

  I know I’ve laid enough doubt when his gun arm starts to waver and he doesn’t reply.

  I carry on, feeling the energy flowing out of me along with my blood. “She asked you to come back here, didn’t she? Probably asked you to retrieve something.”

  “Her pills,” he mumbles.

  I nod. “She tricked Blaire into coming back. She knew she was running out of time; she knew she had to cover her tracks.”

  I step closer and pray my legs hold out long enough to make him see sense. “One final explosion and all the evidence is destroyed.”

  He’s still not saying anything, but pain is etched on his face so I slowly lower my weapon so I’m no longer aiming at his chest.

  “She must have known there was a chance they wouldn’t payout, but you, your death then your pension, that was a sure thing, wasn’t it?”

  He steps through the smoke and glares, but his gun is no longer pointed at me. “I’m worth more dead to her than alive.”

  Jake looks me dead in the eye before his voice comes out reedy. “The camera. I told the police I installed it to keep an eye on you.”

  He sighs and looks at the outline of the castle burning in the cold night air. “I thought she was cheating on me with one of the staff out in the Boathouse. I installed the camera, hid it and didn’t tell her. For a while I thought it was you.”

  I frown at him. “You thought I was screwing Mary?”

  His laugh comes out caustic. “I said for a while I did. Now I know why she was so pissed I kept checking over the weekend.”

  I push the gun down the back of my wet suit and slump onto the scorched grass. “Did you meet your weekday staff before you hired them?”

  He takes a seat on the stone block closest to me. “Most. But the last few months, she started using an agency.”

  His tone turns wry. “You were my last hire.”

  He looks over his shoulder at the castle ruins. “There was a wannabe Jarhead. Got kicked out of training. Mary said she felt sorry for him, said he’d got a bad deal. He was a lazy little shit, not surprised he didn’t last. I fired him two months ago.”

  I nod limply. At least that explains where he got the combat skills.

  Jake’s gaze is as steely as ever. “Guess we’ll see if anything survived to identify him.”

  It’s a joke, I know it’s a joke, but right now I’m dangerously close to passing out. “If they aren’t already on there way here, call the Coast Guard for me. Tell them I need O+.”

  Jake frowns and finally seems to recognize I’m bleeding out. He gets to his feet and is on his phone in a second.

  While he waits for the operator to connect him, he looks down at me and winces. “Are we good?” he asks.

  I manage a shallow smile as I lose my battle to stay upright. “We’re not good. We’re motherfucking Marines,” I slur.

  LUTHER

  My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth when I prise my eyes open. I immediately regret it as white light makes pain shoot through my skull.

  A line is in one arm infusing me with blood, the other is bandaged and from the dull ache, stitched.

  I try to shift my weight and hear a tut-tut coming from beside me. I snap my neck and am rewarded by spinning that doesn’t stop until I see Delta’s blurry face come into view.

  “Blaire?” I croak.

  She takes a seat and drags it closer. “Being interviewed. Then she’s going to stay the night with her brother. She’s fine. You, on the other hand...”

  I grunt a half laugh at her and look out the door to see the detective who arrested me hovering around the door.

  She follows my gaze and sighs. “He’s not a complete douche even if I had to do half of his job for him.”

  I chuckle. Glad to be waking minus the handcuffs I half expected. “Jake didn’t know.”

  She nods and looks at the bandage on my arm. “Yeah. I figured. I couldn’t find anything to suggest he was aware. Poor sap. I think he really loved her.”

  I have nothing to say, but apparently she does. “What about you? Do you love Blaire?”

  She stares so intently; she damn near burns holes in me. I look at the detective rather than answer.

  Delta snickers alongside me. “You can deny it all you like—”

  I jerk my head towards her, feeling oddly vulnerable lying hooked up to a machine as she asks me about something that’s none of her business. “I’m not denying it. I’m not admitting it either.”

  She rolls her eyes and pats me on the arm. “Uh-huh. Well, she’s asking to see you.”

  The words come out rough. “Not now. She’s been through enough because of me.”

  I swear if I wasn’t hooked up to a machine she’d have hit me. “Damn it. When are you going to stop punishing yourself? The mission went wrong. The intel was corrupted.”

  Her eyes well and I know I’ve misread her. “Jess knew the risks and so did her family—”

  I cut her off. “I know. There’s something I’ve needed to do for a while now.”

  She sniffs then a faint smile appears. “You need me to drive you?”

  I shake my head. “No. Thanks. I need to go alone.”

  I have no idea if Jess’ husband will even speak to me. But if there is any chance, I at least have a reason to try.

  BLAIRE

  11.13am

  I’m tucked up in the upstairs bedroom at my brother’s trying to talk to a very agitated Abbie.

  “I cannot believe this! I thought she was like, the sweetest little woman ever. I swear, if I wasn’t watching the news right now, I would think you were barking mad.”

  I cast a glance at the flowers Jake Jensen sent via my lawyer an hour ago. While I’m not so sure I want flowers, his apology was genuine enough.

  “I know. Truth really is stranger than fiction.”

  She’s silent for a moment. “Um, there’s something else. I wasn’t sure if you knew.”

  I frown. “What?”

  “Kent and Carol Casey. They’re seeing each other.”

  I’m so shocked, my jaw drops. “What about Kent’s ex-girlfriend?”

  She sighs. “I don’t know. It must have been a one-time thing while she was visiting. But Carol’s been seeing Kent. She’s moving to London with him.”

  “Oh,” is all I can say.

  “Yeah. Guess this explains why she’s been such a bitch to you. She wanted your man.”

  It does explain a lot. And I’m strangely unbothered. In fact, it’s a relief to know they’re both leaving New York.

  It means I won’t have to deal with either of them again. “Are you okay?” Abbie asks.

  I chew my lip as I stare at the colorful flowers on the dresser, my phone beeps in my ear letting me know I have another call coming through. “I’m okay. Kind of ironic really. You said she’d get hers, guess she did. Plus, aside from the money he’ll get when the house sells, he’s got no money.”

  She chuckles. “And he'll be cheating on her the second he sees his ex again.”

  Despite myself I smile. “Well, good luck to them. No two people deserve each other more. Sorry, I need to go, that might be my lawyer on the phone.”

  “No problem. Take care. And call me when you want to catch up.”

  After a hasty goodbye and a promise to fill her in on all the excitement over a drink soon, I answer the other call with a ridiculous pang of hope it’s Luther.

  “Blaire? Good news. The detective took the divorce and the trauma you suffered into consideration. So, no charges laid for not disclosing the nature of your relations
hip with Luther Beckett.”

  I exhale audibly and she laughs. “Oh, and you should know, all charges against Luther Beckett have been dropped. And he’s just discharged himself.”

  I sit up in bed and grip the phone a little tighter. “Did he leave a message for me?”

  “Doesn’t look like it. I could try to find out where he went?”

  “No. That’s okay,” I say.

  She starts to talk about what will happen now I’m a witness, but I’m too busy trying not to think about why he left without saying goodbye.

  Chloe pokes her head in just as I end the call and decide I need a shower. Her hair now red to match her nails, she winces again at the bruising on my face. “Dad said to ask you if you want breakfast?”

  She frowns. “Well, brunch really.”

  I have no appetite but I need coffee after a restless night. “I’ll take a shower then be down.”

  She pauses half in the room as I pull my aching body out of bed. “Are you going to be staying with us for a while?

  I shrug my robe on and try not to let the pain it causes show on my face. There’s such hope in her voice and I’m so tired I’m almost tempted to say I will be.

  But I know if I stay now when I’m most afraid, I’ll never go back to my own house.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Nope. But soon as I get a place of my own, you can come stay any time you like.”

  She doesn’t look terribly happy about it, but she seems to be on her best behavior, possibly because I look awful. “Sure. Maybe I can help you find somewhere close?”

  I smile encouragement. “There’s a two-bedroom a few streets away coming up for rent. I was thinking about taking a look.”

  Her smile grows as I take my hand off her shoulder and open the bathroom door. “I’ll go check it out online.”

  I step inside the bathroom but she lingers as if worried about me. “I, guess, um, you know. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  She throws her arms around me and I hug her quickly before my own emotions erupt in a noisy display.

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” I say.

  I close the door. Check my reflection in the mirror and immediately burst into stifled sobs.

  My throat is covered in bruises, my cheek red with a gash running along my temple I can only assume came from the gun.

  Dark circles my bloodshot eyes and my pallor is so bad I look ghostly. I came so close to losing my life, and when push came to shove I didn’t think about Kent or the house, I was thinking about Chloe about Nick and about the man who saved my life.

  I step under the shower and let the water soothe away some of the ache in my bones.

  My life is never going to be the same again after this.

  I thought I’d experienced enough trauma for a lifetime. But once again, I was caught in the middle of things. Once again, I was a victim. Helpless. Defenseless.

  Luther may have saved my life, and I’ll always be grateful, but if he hadn’t have been there, I would have died because I didn’t know what to do.

  I wash my hair and use the conditioning time to think about what I’d do differently if I had a chance to replay it.

  The answer comes in an instant and I know how to overcome the fear that has held me in chains for far too long.

  I step out of the shower with renewed determination that steers me towards the kitchen.

  Whatever happens with Luther, I refuse to be a victim ever again.

  LUTHER

  From where I parked just down the dirt road from Jess’ house, my shoulders start to shake and I’m no longer sure I can go through with this.

  Her dog is running around in the yard, and I can see her little girl toddling about, chasing after it.

  I’m working my jaw so hard; I’m sure it’s partially the cause of the headache the pills they gave me don’t seem to be touching.

  The doctor nearly had a fit when I told him I was leaving, but if I can’t do this now, in a haze of morphine, I don’t think I ever will.

  I climb out of the truck, almost hitting the ground when the gravel road shifts underneath me.

  I grit my teeth and manage to make it to the farm gate before my head starts to swim.

  I probably shouldn’t be driving. I made it here on adrenaline and coffee.

  My resolve and my energy seem to last right up to the moment I see Jess’ husband strolling across the yard towards me.

  Dressed in his typical cowboy garb, I almost expect him to tip his hat at me. But his confident stride falters and I know he recognizes me.

  I place my hand on the gate to steady myself as he stares at me like I’m an alien. “You coming in or what?” he says.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and all the things I wanted to say don’t seem to make any sense now I’m standing here at her gate looking at Mike when Jess can’t.

  He glances at his daughter and shakes his head. “What do you want, Beckett?”

  So many things run through my mind I can’t settle on just one. He takes a step closer and I see the wedding ring still on his finger.

  Guilt tightens my already churning stomach. “Why did you come here?”

  I finally seem to be able to answer but my words are almost a rasping whisper. “It should have been me.”

  The little girl tears towards us, and nearly collides with her father in her haste to greet me. The dog, a Labrador puppy, bounds beside her, wagging, barking and trying to lick her face.

  She squeals as Mike scoops her up and holds her close. “But it wasn’t. You’re alive and my wife isn’t.”

  Bile starts to rise to my throat as the girl starts playing with his hair. He smiles at her then looks at me. “I haven’t seen you since before deployment.”

  My head starts to swim, and I’m vision starts to blur, my palms are slick with sweat and I can feel beads of sweat on my forehead.

  Mike takes a step closer, Jess’ daughter still in his arms as he opens the gate. “You look like death warmed up. Get inside before you pass out.”

  I stumble inside and am greeted by the puppy, leaping at my heels. The ground is moving beneath me as the cloudless sky spins above me.

  The last thing I see is Mike’s angry face as I fold in two and slam into the grass.

  “Luther Beckett. NSDAP15337. Corporal. March 15, 1990.”

  “Why is you red?”

  I frown at him. “What?”

  He reaches out and pokes my cheek. “Is you okay?”

  I shake my head, wondering if it’s me or him that’s losing their mind. I settle on him trying to rattle me and repeat in a monotone what I’ve been for the last two days.

  “Luther Beckett. NSDAP15337. Corporal. March 15, 1990.”

  He giggles and my eyes pop open. “You funny.”

  I blink twice.

  He opens his mouth and all that comes out is a bark.

  What the hell kind of twisted interrogation is this?

  He shakes his head. “Want cake?”

  I squint at him. I must be losing my marbles. I’m dehydrated, hallucinating. He did not just poke my arm and screw up his face.

  He’s been torturing me the last three days. He’s the man who carved up my back, who listened to me scream, and he’s the man who made me bleed right before he murdered my best fucking friend.

  “Me get Daddy.”

  What? What? Jess is laughing beside me. From the back of a horse, laughing as I can’t get the stupid animal to quit eating the grass.

  “You gave me a broken one.”

  She laughs so hard tears stream down her face. “You just need to get to know her.”

  I shake my head, not understanding how she looks so happy out here in the countryside and can assemble an assault rifle faster than any other Jarhead I know.

  She’s grinning at me, blue eyes bright, blonde hair pulled back in the uniform bun even though it doesn’t need to be.

  Her smile fades into concern. “Get to know her, Luther.”

  I frown
at her, ready to say I don’t want to get to know a horse, but when I look down, it’s not the mane of the horse, but Blaire’s long dark hair, her piercing eyes, and full lips.

  With a grunt, I open my eyes to a round face with rosy cheeks and blue eyes peering at me.

  A chubby finger pokes me in the chest as a piercing yell is blasted right in my ear. “Daaaaadddddeeee. He awake.”

  I flinch and manage to sit up enough to see I’m under the shade of a tree and not where I collapsed on the grass.

  With a groan, I manage to pull myself up so my spine is against the tree. Mike appears as the girl toddles towards the house babbling.

  His smile is mildly amused. “She wants to feed you the cake we made.”

  I squint up at him, my heart crashing about in my chest as he looks at the blood seeping through the bandage. “You were talking in your sleep. I think you agreed to eat it.”

  His lips twitch into a half-smirk. “It will probably kill you, but since you’re trying to do that anyway, you may as well join us.”

  I wipe the sweat from my upper lip and look at the house and at the little girl climbing the front steps.

  “I fell asleep?” I ask him.

  He nods and stares down at me like I’m a moron for even asking. “Passed out from blood loss more like. But you were dreaming.”

  He shifts his weight, his tanned forehead knotted as I try to get up. “You were mumbling my wife’s name and something about Talib. You dream about her? About how she died?”

  Ice trickles through me. “Every time I try to sleep.”

  My throat thickens as he wipes his eyes and looks in the direction of the house. “She’s so much like her already. Hot-headed, stubborn, bossy.”

  His eyes land on me and there is nothing but shared memories and sorrow in his gaze. “You’re the one who’s been putting money in our account, aren’t you?”

  I can’t deny I’ve been funneling most of my money, so I slowly nod.

  He shakes his head, and mutters under his breath. “What were you trying to do? Pay penance?”

  I can’t even answer that. Nothing I could give him could atone. Nothing would ever compensate.

  He sighs heavily. “You better come sit down. She’ll sulk all day if you don’t come eat cake.”