by Snow, Nicole
“Get her out of town,” I say. “Out of Heart’s Edge. You, too. Get as far away as you can.”
Both the maid and Rissa lift their heads, staring at me.
Rissa looks wounded, wretched. “Leo, Leo, come with us...”
“I can’t.” I retreat toward the door, scrubbing my hands on my thighs like I can still feel the chicken-skin stubble of Bell’s neck scratching me. “There’s something I need to do.”
“Leo!” she calls, but I’m already turning, running from the question, the plea in her lovely, sad voice.
She’s begging me not to go.
But I don’t have a choice.
So I shift back a few steps and gather her up and cradle her in my arms one more time.
“I’m already damned,” I tell her. “Already going to jail. Let me do one last thing right before they find me and throw away the key. I have to, Rissa. For the town. But if you’ll wait for me, I’ll come back. Somehow, some fucking way, I swear I will. I’ll always come back for you, woman, no matter how much hell it takes.”
That was my promise.
And I had no earthly clue it was a lie.
Or was it?
Maybe it’s just a promise delayed, one I have a chance to finally fulfill.
* * *
Present
I’m still reliving that nightmare when Doc and I pull into the parking lot of Sweeter Things.
I just want to do one last check.
One final chance to see her before we head to Missoula and hope we can get the drop on Ross.
The radio’s playing in the car, and in between some garbled country-rap song blaring over the speakers, there’s an ad spot. Fuschia’s voice.
Smart.
I know Nash will recognize it and what it means.
She lets out a sultry purr, like she’s advertising for one of those late-night sexy radio call-ins. “Hiya, Heart’s Edge, do you love scandal?” she lilts, and I roll my eyes. “Then tune in tonight! Midnight sharp. You’ll find out secrets about this town that will blow your mind. Open your eyes. Learn the truth, and join me for the ride of your life.”
As the sound trips over to some jingle for toothpaste, Gray snorts from the driver’s seat. “Well, at least it’ll get people curious.”
“For all the wrong reasons. But if it does the trick...”
I trail off as Doc throws the truck in park, and I catch sight of Rissa.
For a moment, I can only sit there and watch her. She’s speaking animatedly with one of the contractors.
The sun shines through the storefront, shimmering over her. Rissa almost glows, and every time she moves, it’s a thing of grace and beauty that makes her seem to flow in rhythm with the music of her curves. Her hair trails around her in a sweep as she turns, surveying the interior of the shop.
Her shop.
Even if Deanna ran it, this was her dream. I’m proud of her for making it come true.
“You,” Gray says, “are so damned obvious.”
I snap a look at him. “Obvious?”
“Yeah. The fact that you’re head over heels in love with the mother of your boy.”
I grin halfheartedly. “Sounds like a pretty normal thing to be.”
“Leo.” Gray’s hand grips my shoulder, grounding me. “Don’t do anything reckless. We’re in public.”
“You don’t get it,” I say. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
No matter what it costs.
Warren’s truck is parked in front of the shop, and he’s leaning against the hood of the car, nursing a coffee and looking bored as hell. He catches my eye and nods, though, giving me the all clear.
I’m trusting him not to let anything happen to my family while we’re gone.
When Clarissa turns and sees me, she lights up and practically comes dancing out to the truck.
I roll the window down. She drapes her arms over the door and leans in. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you before you headed out again.”
Gray clears his throat, and I’m suddenly self-conscious, knowing he’s watching and trying not to smirk—but I ignore him, brushing my knuckles to her cheek.
She leans in so naturally, angel face glowing in the sweetest way.
Damn, I feel wrong right now, even if I can’t pin down why. Then her gaze flicks over my face, and I figure it out.
I’m actually uncomfortable under my hood.
I’ve been so used to hiding myself for so long. But around the cabin with her and Zach, up at the big house with Ms. Wilma and Warren and our friends, something changed.
I’ve come to feel natural in my own messed up skin.
It’s just me. And these people see the real me, accept me for what I am.
That’s some heavy shit.
Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure there’s nobody around who might catch a glimpse of me and recognize the legendary Nine. Then I flick my hood down, making my hair stick up everywhere. The mask goes next, dragging it down around my neck.
Clarissa absolutely beams. She reaches in to cup her palm to my cheek.
“There. Happy?” I grin, turning my head to press my lips to her palm. “Just wanted to check in with you before we hit the road. Everything’s going down tonight. With any luck, we’ll have Deanna back by morning.”
Her eyes widen, and her smile fades. There’s trouble in her eyes.
Like she’s scared to hope, after all this time.
Like she’s scared I’ll fail her.
“That soon?” she asks, trying a shaky laugh. “Wow, that’s going to be quite a Halloween.”
Oh, hell. I’d forgotten it was almost Halloween.
That worries me.
There’ll be tons of people on the streets. If Nash wants to make a major move, it’ll be easier tonight, when he can blend in with people in costumes and won’t draw any attention to his weird, creepy self.
Then again, his advantage could be mine, too.
Because this is the one night of the year where no one would look twice at a burned man dripping wild ink.
I quit pondering and focus on Rissa.
“Babe,” I murmur, stroking my thumb to her cheek. “What’s with that look? You okay?”
She takes a deep breath. “All this time, as long as I didn’t know for sure, I could believe she was alive. But what if she’s not, Leo? What if you find her and she’s...she’s...”
Her voice hitches, thick, cracking around the unspeakable.
I’m out of the truck in a flash, careful with the door so I don’t shove her, wrapping her in my arms like no tomorrow.
“That’s not gonna happen,” I soothe, as she presses into me with her shoulders hunched and shaking, her head hidden against my chest. “Nash needs her as leverage. She’s safe as long as we’ve got something he wants.”
“But we don’t know that,” she whispers. “We’re guessing. He could’ve killed her before we even saw that video. She could be dead, and he’s just playing us to get what he wants.”
My stomach sinks.
This is my fault.
I brought this mess to Heart’s Edge. Even if we get rid of Nash, Galentron will always follow me, unless they’re destroyed.
I’m starting to wonder if those hopes about having a family, about being a father, about being there for Clarissa and Zach are all in fucking vain.
How can I protect them, when I couldn’t even keep Deanna safe? But I hold those thoughts in like venom.
She needs me to be strong.
So I kiss her forehead, stroking that rich mahogany-brown hair back.
“She’s too important to die,” I remind her. “Whatever we know, she’s got intel we don’t. The full picture. She’s her own damn bargaining chip. And we know Deanna, Rissa. She’s smart. Crafty. She’ll hold out and string Nash along to buy us time. She knows we’re coming. She has to know.”
Clarissa lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, maybe. That brat would toy with him like that.”
“Exactly.” I
curl her hair around my fingers, brushing the tip of those gleaming locks to her cheek, and smile my best for her. “So tonight, just try to stay safe. I wish you could take Zach trick-or-treating.”
“Next year,” she says, and there’s a promise in those words, soft and heartfelt.
I hope there’ll be a next year.
For all of us.
“Next year,” I agree, pulling her closer one more time.
I just hope it’s not the last time.
I’m going to bring that bastard Ross back and stop the demon he created.
This time, it’s different.
I have too many promises to keep, come hell or high water.
21
Hairpin Turn (Clarissa)
I should’ve gone with him.
That’s the only thought in my head while I’m pacing the cabin.
I should’ve insisted. To get Dr. Ross. To confront Nash.
To bring my sister back.
If I’d offered, though, if I’d tried, I just know what he’d have said.
Too bad right now, I feel like a prisoner, cooped up in this cabin with Warren sprawled out on the front deck, pretending to be nursing a beer when he’s actually keeping Zach and me safe.
I hate that we’re targets, leverage for Galentron.
And I hate that it leaves me trapped, unable to help my sister or the man I love.
Zach’s curled up on the couch with a book. I envy his ability to be so calm right now. He takes so many things in stride it’s kind of scary.
I sink down next to him, leaning over to watch him focusing intently on his book.
“Hey,” I say. “Did you want to be an Animorph for Halloween?”
He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Maybe,” he says distractedly, turning a page. “I kind of like Abe Sapiens, too.”
I have no idea who that is.
He’s a little sponge, picking up everything from pop culture characters to politics.
But I smile, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “Maybe next year. I’m sorry you couldn’t go trick-or-treating this year.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I know you’re going to give me a lot of candy later anyway.” He tilts his head back, grinning up at me, reading my mind. “And I know you’d be sad and worried if I went this year. So it’s okay. I don’t want you to be sad, Mom.”
God, this boy.
I pull him close, feeling tears trying so hard to break free, and squeeze him tight, burying my face in his hair.
“I’m so lucky to have you, ZZ,” I whisper. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He hugs me without reservation. That makes me smile even more.
Some little boys his age have already started their “Ew, Mom has cooties” phase, but not my Zach.
He wraps his arms around me and snuggles in close, my little bug-bear, sweet and warm.
“It’ll be okay, Mom,” he says. “Auntie Deanna’s okay, too.”
Damn it.
I’ve tried so hard to keep him from really understanding what’s at stake here, but it’s been impossible to keep him from overhearing everything.
I just hate it.
Just want my little boy to stay a little boy a while longer.
Please.
I curl my fingers into his hair, looking down at him with a wavering smile. “Baby, how much do you know about what’s going on?”
Zach looks up at me, solemn, thoughtful, considering. He looks so much like Leo my heart could pop.
Leo has that same way of carefully considering every word, choosing what he’s going to say so it’s as gentle as possible.
Finally, Zach speaks, clear and crisp, “That man you’re after, the weirdo at the museum who liked your hair, he took Auntie Deanna somewhere, didn’t he? Because she knows stuff he needs to know. You’re scared he’ll hurt her, so you’re trying to find a way to get her back. And Mr. Nine’s out there helping you.”
“Yeah, baby,” I say, kissing the top of his head through my blurry tears. “That’s pretty much it.”
He tucks into me closer. “It’s okay, Mom. I know you can do it. That creep’s a monster, but we’ve got one too.”
With a choked sound, half laugh, half sob, I just squeeze him tighter.
If only I could have as much faith in myself as my little boy has in me.
But I glance up at the sound of Warren’s voice from outside. He’s talking into his phone. Something about the way he speaks sets me on edge.
His shoulders are tense, his neck stiff, even his short beard seems to be standing on end.
His words are short, clipped.
Everything in his tone says trouble.
And I’m scared that trouble is coming for me, when he pockets his phone and stands, pushing the door open with his jaw set in a grim line.
“Clarissa? There’s something you need to hear,” he says, his gaze locking with mine. “Bring Zach. I’ll take you down to the radio station.”
* * *
I don’t know what I’m expecting to hear.
The station is a small brick building on the outskirts of town, a ways off from the last few buildings and houses, a tall network tower with its red blinking light protruding from the roof like a unicorn’s horn.
There’s not much room inside the studio. We cram in with Zach’s small hand clutched in mine. Especially when Rex Natchez, the station owner, is already in there with Blake.
And with Fuchsia Delaney.
That wretched woman looks at home surrounded by a lot of weird equipment. I can’t figure out what’s what, all these black boxes with hundreds of buttons and dials and little glowing screens.
I just know everything doesn’t look like radio equipment.
It definitely doesn’t belong here, considering it’s piled up with all the other stuff that’s been built into the walls.
She looks so out of place, surrounded by so much machinery in one of her sleek dresses, a headset clutched in one hand and held up to her ear instead of looped over her head. But she’s focused in a way I’ve never seen her.
It’s weird.
I don’t know Fuchsia that well, but I know her. She’s a bogeywoman from my childhood.
I know her oily, cloying slickness. I know her false face. I wish I didn’t know her wicked witch smile.
What’s new is this look of dead set determination as she listens with her mouth pursed in a thin line, her brows drawn together, steely eyes distant but dark.
She’s serious about this.
I only wish I knew what caused it.
Part of me hates that I actually feel some kind of pity for her. She’s been the face of so much death, so much loss. But maybe some leopards can change their spots.
Maybe some leopards have their reasons.
She looks up at me, her eyes grave. “Finally. You need to hear this.”
Blake looks pale, his face drawn. Warren still seems so grim, it’s scaring me.
My heart just patters away, almost breaking.
I reach into my pocket.
Call me crazy, but I needed a good luck charm today. So I grabbed that old ring box and shook the band out and hid it in my pocket, but it’s comforting now to run my finger over metal that’s absorbing my body heat.
It’s a reminder.
Leo will come back.
Everything will be okay.
And I’m strong enough to handle this, to steel myself for whatever it is. I pull my hands up and cover Zach’s ears.
“Okay, ready,” I say, my voice catching. “Play it back.”
Fuchsia looks at me soberly, then tugs the cable from a box at her elbow, unhooking the headphones.
A jittery crackle leaps out of the speaker at the front of the device. She pushes a button, and I hear the sound of an old-fashioned tape playback, before a voice comes growling out of the speaker.
“—athetic. They’re trying another expose.”
Is that...Nash?
My teeth pinch together. I don’t kn
ow him well, but I can’t forget that serpentine edge to his voice, hissy and malicious. But the voice that comes next, rising from my past, strikes chills through me like a reverberating bell. It has to be Dr. Ross.
“Don’t let that happen, my boy. You know what you have to do.”
“I’ll get the communications shut down before they try their little stunt.” Nash pauses. “This looks like a dead-end operation. They tried to be clever. I’m not sure cleanup’s an option.”
“Recommendations?”
“You know what my recommendation always is. What I wanted to do instead of this stupid goose chase,” Nash sneers.
That’s when another voice cuts in.
Feminine.
Familiar, heart-chillingly so.
“You fucker!” Deanna cries in the background—rasping, broken, but furious, her spirit still strong, and I catch my breath, my entire body forming a painful knot of hope and fear and longing. “You think hurting people will stop this from getting out? I’ve—”
A sharp crack sounds, flesh on flesh, followed by my sister yelling in pain.
Then silence.
Tears prick my eyes. I grind my knuckles against my lips.
Dear God. Even if he hasn’t heard more than muffled noise, Zach presses against me like a puppy offering comfort.
Warren and Blake watch me worriedly, but it’s Fuchsia who speaks, pausing the playback.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” she says. “Deanna.”
I nod slowly, sucking in sharp gasps. “No question. When...when was this?”
“Half an hour ago,” she answers. “So half an hour ago, Deanna was still alive.”
Ouch. Hope has never hurt more than it does now.
I don’t have to wonder.
I know.
I know, with very little doubt, my sister’s probably alive for now.
Hurt, scared, but alive.
There’s a chance.
I swallow hard, trying to keep myself together. “Is there more?”
“Not much,” Fuchsia says. “Nothing really relevant.”
“Play it anyway,” I say.
She eyes me, then nods and pushes the playback button again.
Ross’ voice floats out, mocking and gravelly. “I see she’s a feisty one. You’ve not been having fun with her?”