“What the hell is going on? And who the hell is that?” Hank’s voice snapped through the kitchen, the two kids, obviously drunk turned to stare in shock. The boy focused on the gun and the blood leeched from his face.
“Dad, let me explain.” Hayden flopped over onto an elbow, her words sluggish.
The boy paled even further, “Dad? How old are you?”
Hank answered, “Not old enough.”
“Dad, stop. You’re embarrassing me.” Hayden attempted to get to her feet, somehow caught the edge of the kitchen table and righted herself.
“I’m fixing to embarrass you, right over my knee. You know the rules. No drinking. No boys in the house after midnight.” His harsh tone would have sent grown men scudding, but not Hayden. Maxi had to give it to her, she didn’t back down an inch.
“I’m twenty-one years old. I can drink and do whatever the hell I want!”
“Not while you live under my roof you can’t. Now get your ass in bed before I do something I regret.”
Hayden’s long blonde hair hung wild and curly down to her waist. Her normally clear blue eyes were bloodshot; her cheeks flushed red from the effects of too much to drink. And the platforms on her feet didn’t help her steadiness one bit. “You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Maxi gasped and covered her mouth. Hank had taken Hayden in at a young age, saving her from an awful life. Hank’s already tight jaw started to tick, but under that gruff exterior, she could see the hurt Hayden’s words had caused. “I’m the only father you have. You better fucking count your blessings you’re not with your real father. Because I’m the only one that gives a damn. Get your ass to bed. Now!”
Everyone in the room jumped at Hank’s sharp tone, and Hayden, bless her heart, slammed her lips together and stumbled from the room. Probably the smartest thing the girl had done in a long while.
Hank turned on the boy before Maxine could intervene. He’d at least managed to get to his feet during the father daughter fight, and backed up to the front door, fumbling for the handle and an escape. When he saw Hank advance, he threw up his hands in surrender. “Hey man, I thought she was older. I’m sorry.”
Maxi watched Hank lift his pistol and take aim at the boy’s chin. Shit. A night she’d intended to use coaxing him over to her point of view was screwed by a couple of drunk kids. Not that she was worried he’d actually hurt the kid. Scare him – yes.
“Hey boy, because that’s what you are.” Hank stalked closer, shoving his pistol in the back of his jeans and grabbed the young man around the neck. “You’re not a man. A man wouldn’t get a girl drunk and bring her home hoping to get lucky. Which one of you drove? How much have you been drinking? Did you drive my daughter home drunk?”
“Please, sir. We were just goofing around, having some fun. I swear I didn’t mean any harm by it.” His words cut off when Hank squeezed, shutting off his oxygen supply for a second. Maxine would have been worried if it were anyone else, but not Hank James. The man made his life rescuing orphaned and abused kids. She seriously doubted he would suddenly start hurting them.
Plus, the less drunk drivers the better. Sometimes all these kids needed was to get the ever loving crap scared out of them to keep them from doing something so stupid again. She pulled out a stool and sat, carefully placing her pistol on the counter. Her movement caught the boy’s attention. “Ma’am, please. Can’t you talk to him?”
“Sorry, but you stepped in it. You’re on your own.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing fast like a jig in the water with a catfish on the line.
“I have half a mind to shoot you and throw you out back in my pond. Let the gators eat you.” Hank pressed forward.
“No. I swear, if you let me leave, you’ll never see me again.”
“Now you want to drive drunk again?” Hank ground out.
“I can call a friend. He can be here in five minutes to pick me up.”
Maxine had a feeling that whatever alcohol the kid ingested earlier that night had evaporated, but no need to tell Hank. He was on a roll. “How about I call the sheriff, let him get you for a DWI.”
The boy broke, blubbering and sobbing, “No, please. I’m trying to get into law school. If I get something on my record I’m screwed.”
“What do you think Maxi? Should we use him as gator bait or call the sheriff?” Hank didn’t look at her when he spoke, he pressed his entire body against the boy’s, squishing him against the door.
“Dad. Get off him.” Hayden flew back into the kitchen, still dressed in the same clothes. Hank spun around and the boy seized on his opportunity for an escape, fumbled with the doorknob and ran out of the house.
“You let a drunk drive you home?” If Hank was mad before, he was furious now.
“He only had one beer. Jeremy was the DD tonight, he drove us all home.”
“And what, you were going to invite him to your bed to thank him?”
Hayden took a step back, staring at her father with eyes wide. “How could you say that to me?”
Hank gestured to her wildly, “Look at yourself. How you dress. Showing off your body, drinking with strange men, inviting them into my home. What do you think it looks like when you act like that? Do you really think a man will ever respect a girl like that?”
“Maybe it’s just the real me. In my blood.” Hayden screamed back. Tears ran down her face.
Hank grabbed her by the arms and Maxine stepped from the stool, ready to intervene if things got too heated. Hank would never physically harm his daughter, but he may say something he would regret.
“You listen to me, your mother might have been a slut. And you’re worthless father a drunk piece of shit. But that’s not you. You’re smart. Your kind. You’re better than this. And I love you too much to watch you throw your life away.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not worth anything. You don’t know anything. You don’t know what I did.”
Hank shook her, “I don’t care what you did, or what you think you did. This is not the answer.”
Hank’s hands were shaking and Hayden was sobbing. Maxi couldn’t hold off anymore. She stepped up and put her arm gently around the young girl. “I think everyone should just go to bed. Everything always looks better in the morning after a good nights sleep. Don’t you agree Hank?”
Hank looked at her like she’d gone crazy, but Maxi didn’t give in. She steered the girl down the hall to her bedroom, ignoring Hank following right behind. He waited in the hall while Maxine helped get Hayden into a nightdress and in bed. She passed out not one minute after her head hit the pillow. Maxine crept back into the hall, easing the door shut behind her and held a finger to her lips for Hank to stay quiet.
He closed his mouth. Maxi went to his bedroom and climbed back into bed, knowing this was the best place for the coming storm. Hank’s expression was a mixture of anger and hurt and confusion. He slunk onto the edge of the bed and Maxi immediately hugged him from behind.
He grabbed her and held on tight, his body tense beneath hers. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, and honestly I’m scared to ask. Over this past year she’s just gotten worse and worse. I thought maybe it was some delayed teenage rebellion thing, but I was wrong. She’s hurting and I don’t know why and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”
Maxine pulled him backwards and he let her until he was lying back on the bed and she was leaning over him, stroking his face with your fingers. “Whatever it is it can be solved. I’ll be here to help. You know your boys will. But tonight is not the time.”
She pressed her lips to his with a soft kiss and Hank groaned wrapping his arms around her and turning them until he was on top of her. “I need you.”
Maxine smiled, “I’m right here. What are you waiting for?”
11
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Evie braced her hands on the pedestal porcelain sink, cursing the too-bright lights in her bathroom for highlighting the dark circles und
er her eyes. The hollowed out cheekbones. She was underweight. Overstressed. She could definitely pass for a Hollywood actress in drug rehab.
“Ugh.” Even her groan came out weak. Sick of looking at herself, she flipped the light off and went into her bedroom. The window-unit air conditioner, circa 1980, sputtered and spit and shrieked, but at least it got her bedroom down below the hundred-degree heat.
Evie flopped onto the bed, her body as lifeless as a fish on a dock. The drone of the AC unit combined with the steady staccato of her warped ceiling fan would normally have been enough white noise to soothe her to sleep. But not tonight. She could’ve taken a horse tranquilizer without stirring.
She rolled over and grabbed her phone. Two o’clock. Crap. There was no way she was going to enjoy a visit to the sandman in this state of mind. For the last couple of years, her life had been on par with a Lifetime drama, but in these past two days it had shifted into Bruce Willis action. No point in laying here. Alone. In bed. She headed downstairs to the kitchen.
She snatched a beer and rubbed the cold bottle against her face before taking a drink. The chill eased some of her tension. Perhaps a good girl would have grabbed a glass of milk. Maybe opted for some comfort food. But that was all behind her, and the loss of her good-girl status could be dated back to the end of her second relationship.
And now here she stood, alone, twenty-seven years old, with a sum total of two exes under her belt. Two exes who had failed to leave her with a warm and fuzzy tonight.
She slammed the bottle down, cracking it loudly against her speckled countertop. The cheap Formica didn’t even give up a scratch.
Her mind spun round and round, like a tetherball in the hand of an overzealous third-grader. Attempting to wrap her mind around tonight’s events made her brain bounce out of control.
Being on Marcus Carvant’s right side was downright dangerous, so she didn’t even want to think about being on his wrong side. But Evie being on any side of Marcus was better than her mother being dead.
And she had no doubt Maxine would take it first.
She had to figure out a way to appease Marcus. Make the deal and push it through. Forget the fact she would be running marijuana. Jail time wouldn’t even begin to cover her sentence if they were caught.
Better her than her family.
Evie took another swig of the cold brew, hoping to wash down some of her revulsion.
How could she work with that…monster? Help him, knowing he’d screw her in the end?
Evie picked her cell phone up from the counter. The empty screen glowed bright, glaring at her. Daring her to use it.
Before she realized her fingers were moving, she pulled up the number and hit the call button. Shaking, she lifted the phone to her ear. The phone rang three times before he answered. “Evangeline.” Her stomach dropped with dread. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to see my reasoning.”
Evie swallowed spasmodically, trying to get her throat to work, to push the words out of her mouth. Her body fought her, as if it knew she shouldn’t be talking to him. “Marcus.”
Disgust swept through her from merely voicing his name. Evie bent forward, clutched the counter for support.
“I’ve been looking forward to getting reacquainted. Why don’t you come over so we can discuss this matter in person?” His tone was so reasonable, almost likeable. But Evie knew what that practiced Southern drawl hid.
“What do you want?” Evie straightened and grabbed her beer, needing whatever liquid courage she could garner.
Marcus tsked. “Manners. I thought we’d worked through all this.” He sighed. Evie could picture the look of disappointment on his face. The resignation. Like she was a child caught coloring on daddy’s walls.
A child afraid of a spanking. Only Marcus didn’t give spankings. Evie shuddered again. Flashes of dark closets and no food sparked in her mind. Her side throbbed and she fought the urge to rub her scar.
His brand. His mark of ownership.
No. No more. Her only hope of reclaiming her life lay in beating him. And if she had to do it alone, she would. Even if it was at the point of a gun. “What. Do. You. Want.”
She would figure out how to get the drugs and turn him over to the authorities. Just not in Mercy. She would have to go big. Maybe the FBI?
“We will have to work on that tone, too. Do I need to remind you what happens to bad girls?” His soft words slithered down her spine.
“We aren’t together any more. You don’t own me. I can talk any damn way I please. Now tell me what the fuck you want me to do.” Her voice boomed through the small kitchen.
He didn’t respond.
Evie heard him breathing hard through the phone. Knew he was waiting. Figuring out a way to gain the upper hand. Her chest locked down, her ribcage seeming to fold in on itself and crush her lungs.
If he had been in this room with her, she knew she’d already be on the floor. By now, she’d have broken bones.
Another flash—Evie crawling across the floor, trying to escape him. The smell of her burning flesh singing her nose. Unimaginable pain radiating up her side. The feel of smooth, polished hardwood under her fingers as she pulled herself along the floor.
Marcus’s voice yanked her back to the present. “Let’s dispense with the pretense that you’ve grown a back bone. Because we both know you’re only trying to put on a front for that pathetic little group of trash you call an organization. You will work for me. You will do exactly as I say. Or I will kill your white trash mother.” Marcus paused and Evie stood frozen in place. “Just like I killed your father.”
Bile blasted up her throat, threatening to erupt. A cold sweat broke across her neck.
“So you did set him up. You planted the drugs,” Evie said.
“I delivered a message. A message you got loud and clear.”
“You…you killed him to punish me?” Evie choked.
“Yes.”
Guilt punched her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her knees buckled. Evie sank to the floor. She’d suspected this earlier, but he just confirmed her worst nightmare. It was her fault. Her fault her father was dead.
“I see I’ve gotten your attention. Now, let me be clear. You will deliver my shipment downriver. You will personally handle the process. Your boat. Alone. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“And if I don’t?” Evie said.
“Then I’ll deliver the same message to your mother.”
*
Evie had made a deal with the devil.
She wished she could call upon an angel to blast the asshole straight back to hell.
Messages. Marcus dealt in messages. Subtle ones. Veiled threats. But not with the Videls. No, his message to her was as clear as the note he had nailed to her father’s chest.
Evie had never found out what that note said, but the day after her father’s funeral, Grandpa C.W. moved his camper into Maxine’s backyard. And that night, he called a family meeting. And that was when everything changed.
Bracing her elbows on the counter, she lowered her head into her hands. She’d safely skated below Marcus’s radar for so long now, thinking she could carefully slide down the social ladder and out of sight.
Cold sweat trickled across her upper lip and bile rose up her throat again. Evie lifted the beer to her lips, trying to wash the burning back down.
Boom!
Her kitchen door rattled.
Evie jerked, slamming the bottle into her front teeth, the loud crack echoing through her bones. Pain shot straight up her nose and took root in her brain. “Ow!”
“Evie, it’s me, Hunter. Saw your light on.”
Evie rubbed her mouth and went to the door. “What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling the flowered curtain to the side.
“I was just out riding around. Saw your kitchen light on. Thought I’d see if you were still awake.”
Evie leaned her head against the door and took a deep breath. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? S
he was barely holding her sanity together as it was, and life with Hunter had never been calm and controlled. She knew she should just send him away for good, but her treacherous body didn’t seem to agree, because it sure wasn’t her common sense that reached forward and turned the knob.
Hunter stood under her porch light, dark shadows painting the planes of his face. His shoulders dropped and he let out a long breath. Her heart tugged at his lost look and the tightness inside her chest slipped.
“A little stalker-ish, don’t you think?”
Hunter shrugged, his massive size suddenly reminding her of the grizzly bear in the bar. God, he was sexy. Definitely all male, none of that metro crap. Just pure, raw sensuality and control. The intensity of his dark brown eyes was enough to drown her on dry land.
“You do realize it’s two o’clock in the morning, right?” she asked. And she was wearing an old nightgown three sizes too big. Crap. Cheri’s comment about her clothes had resonated with her. First thing on her to-do list, shopping.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. Did you wait up for me?” he asked, his tone teasing and light.
Evie caught herself wanting to smile, wanting to let him in and get close. But no, she’d done that before, and it had landed her in a pile of cow shit.
“I’ve had a long night and would like to get to bed. So…do you mind?” Evie tightened her hold on the door knob, her heart kicking her sternum like a toddler having a temper tantrum.
As she started to shut the door, Hunter’s arm shot out, preventing it from moving an inch. “Actually, I really could use a beer. And a friend.”
Evie studied him. His eyes looked haunted. Sad. Just like that night all those years ago. They had been a few years out of high school, desperate for each other, but about as stable as a boat with holes. They fought loud and long and hard. And it was Hunter who walked away. He’d given her his back and climbed into his truck, sparing her one last look before gunning out of her driveway on squealing tires. His eyes had that same glint to them tonight. “What’s wrong?”
Redemption River Page 9