Beetle was running his finger down my neck. I felt a sickening rush at his touch. His finger caught on the collar of my shirt. He held it there for a moment, and then he pulled the chair upright so I could see him.
“Why are you doing this?” I rasped.
“You hurt me.” He sat down to roll another cigarette and scrunched his face up in a comical expression.
“Hurt…you?” I struggled to get the words out, but I could already feel my voice starting to come back.
“Yes!” He stood up, rushed over to me, and got in my face. “I love you, Zoe. I never once did anything to hurt you. I guarded your store from those men who were trying to take you from me, and I came in every day to buy your food. But all you ever did was make fun of me.” He stepped back. “Did you really think I was going to let you get away with that?” He clicked his tongue, wagged his finger, and said, “No. No, I’m a smart man. I know how to do things.”
He pulled a knife out of his pocket.
“N-n-no! No! Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll be with you. We can be together. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please.”
“You never even asked me what my name was.”
“You’re right. So tell me now. Tell me everything about yourself, and I’ll listen.”
“I’m not telling you anything.” He walked back into the kitchen and lit the flame on the stove.
“No! No! Noooo!”
He ignored my pleas. He pressed the knife to the flame and held it there.
“You can’t stop me, Zoe. It’s like I told the mean man. He can’t always be with you.” Beetle turned around and held up his knife. The tip was glowing red. “Now you’re all mine.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Archer
“What are your plans for today, Mona?”
She made me drag the cart of strawberries and chocolate down to the living room, and we were watching her soap opera while the boys climbed around.
“Nothing.” She put her feet up on the coffee table. “Well.” She seemed to mull it over. “Maybe I’ll go down to the bar and have a drink later. The bartender’s been eyeing me.”
“Old love?”
“Dear God, no.” She sounded shocked. “Why would I want to go and do something like that? I just want a little bit of fun.” She turned back to the screen where two ridiculously good-looking men were running around a track with their shirts off while the girls went over their plans to steal them away and destroy each other’s lives. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. Zoe says anything and everything. I’m more focused on the possibilities than anything concrete.”
“You should take them down to the zoo. I still haven’t gotten a chance to take them, and they have a little room for the babies where they can look at butterflies in cages. They’ll love it.”
“Butterflies?”
“Not everything has to be manly. They’re kids.”
“They’re little men.” I reached down to the blanket where Andrew was crawling around and let him grab my finger. Abel watched for a moment then decided to join in. Mona was looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“They like you. No matter what you say.”
“I’m not buying it.”
“They know their dad when they see him.” Mona picked up a strawberry and dipped it in chocolate, then popped it into her mouth. The bowl was almost gone. “You should order these for me when I watch the boys.”
“Just tell Leti. She’ll make you whatever—Mona, look.”
“What?” she asked.
Abel was standing up, his butt swinging back and forth. It looked like his legs were ready to buckle.
“Quick grab your phone,” she said, reaching into her pocket for hers.
“Why?” Abel’s legs were shaking, and his hands were held up on his sides.
“Just do it.”
“Okay.” I pulled out my phone just in time to film him taking his first step.
“We got it!” Mona exclaimed happily.
“We sure did.”
“Oh—he’s still going.”
Abel took another step. He was shaky on his feet, but he was doing it. Andrew was watching. He grabbed onto the hem of Mona’s dress and lifted himself up.
“Do you think?” she asked.
“Shh, don’t jinx it.”
Sure enough, Andrew stepped forward, closer to his brother. Abel reached up to take his next step and fell flat on his butt.
Chloe rushed into the house with tears streaming down her face.
I stood up instantly, ignoring the sound of the babies shrieking. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“It’s Zoe.”
“What happened to her?”
“Mr. Beetle.”
“Mona, call the guards to take the boys with you to your house and stay there. Have them send the truck around right away.”
“On it.” She was already carrying the boys into the nursery so she could get them ready.
I pulled Chloe out into the driveway while we waited for the truck. “What did she say?”
“He’s in her apartment.”
“Did she sound hurt? Did he do anything to her? Please, tell me that she’s okay.”
“I don’t know. All she said was that he was there. Then she hung up.”
“Fuck,” I wailed and kicked the gravel.
“You can help her, can’t you? You have weapons, and you have people that can come?”
“It doesn’t really matter what I can do if she’s already…” I couldn’t finish that sentence.
“No.” Chloe shook her head. “Don’t think like that.”
I felt dizzy, like the depression from the last few days was coming back, only this time it was thick, impenetrable. There’d be no escaping it if she was truly gone. It was like somebody was cutting off my arm, and I was waiting to see whether or not they’d get through the bone. It could happen. She might…
“Sir.” A guard rushed in. “Truck’s ready.”
“Good. Mona is getting the boys ready. I want you to keep her and the boys in sight at all times. If something happens to her, you’re done. If she stays safe, you’ll have my respect and a bonus.”
“Yes, sir.” He ran upstairs.
“Oh my God,” Chloe gasped when she walked outside to see the truck. It was a black beast with tinted windows and a lift kit so high that she’d literally have to climb inside. The best part was the shell. It was completely bullet proof, no civilian weapon could get through it, and there were enough guns and explosives in the back to fuel a small Army.
I jumped into the bed and opened a black chest. I pulled out a semi-automatic rifle, filled it with cartridges, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Chloe was already struggling to get in. I opened the door for her and offered her my hand to help her up.
“Give me a handgun,” she said.
I opened the glove compartment and pulled out a revolver. “Do you know how to use this?”
She took it from me, checked to make sure it was loaded, and said, “Just drive.”
I didn’t take any chances. I took the back roads until I had to merge onto the freeway and barreled through, past every car I came up against until we reached the exit. At the top of the ramp, there was a red light. I looked to make sure there were no cars coming and blazed past.
Chloe was leaning forward, watching everything I did. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking, and tiny sobs still shook her small frame. I couldn’t think. Thinking was dangerous. It meant acceptance—despair.
I told myself that this wasn’t real. It was a mistake. The man was just a poor bum. He couldn’t possibly hurt her. He wasn’t strong enough, and he didn’t have the money to get a gun. Still, anyone determined enough could do some serious damage.
We came up on another red light. I didn’t even try to brake. A van was turning left. He flew out of control and stopped just a few feet short of a light pole.
“
Slow down!” Chloe said.
“Don’t be stupid.” I hit the gas and barreled through the next light, and then the next, each time swerving to miss oncoming traffic. Chloe was pale and sweating with wide eyes. She was clearly unstable. I couldn’t let her get involved in the fight, but I knew she’d give me trouble if I tried to take her gun back. I let her keep it.
We were three blocks from Zoe’s apartment. The closer we got, the harder it was to contain myself. He could be doing anything to her. That only made it worse. I couldn’t think of the possibilities. I had to stay calm and keep a clear head, but I could feel a battlefield frenzy rise up inside me. It was an uncontrollable force, and once it took hold, the only thing I could do was ride it out.
There were ways to kill a man without getting caught. I could snap his neck and hide the body. He didn’t have any connection to either of us, at least not on paper. I’d just dump him somewhere, and nobody would know.
By the time we rounded the corner onto Zoe’s street, I’d decided that killing him would be the best thing to do. He wouldn’t get a life sentence for breaking into her house. If he was mentally ill, there was a chance that they wouldn’t even convict him. He could easily do this again, and he wasn’t going to stop, not if he was willing to go this far.
“Chloe, I need you to promise me something.”
“What?” She was clutching the gun so hard that her knuckles were white.
“If I kill him, don’t say anything to anyone for the rest of your life. Don’t even talk to me or Zoe about it, no matter how traumatizing it is. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” She meant it.
Normally, I would’ve pressed her, but we both knew what was at stake. I didn’t know what was happening, or what I might have to do. Even if her life was in danger, killing him could get me sent to prison for the rest of my life.
I was willing to risk it. Even if I never saw Zoe again, at least I could say that she was alive and that her life wasn’t in danger. It’d be a worthy sacrifice, one that I knew I’d never regret.
Chloe was shaking and sobbing, “I need to know that y-you’re not going to walk away from this.”
“Never,” I said firmly.
“You promise me that right now, because so help me God if you walk away and she gets hurt, I will kill you myself.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I slammed on the brakes and threw the truck into a space right behind her apartment. I scanned around, searching for any sign of movement, but there was none. Everything was quiet—static.
We jumped out of the truck. Chloe started to run toward the building, but I stopped her. “Stay behind me. Don’t go around the corner. If you do that, you could get shot.”
“No! No! Nooo!”
“That’s her,” Chloe cried.
“Don’t go anywhere.” I flew forward and darted my head around the corner so I could see inside the apartment. The door was wide open. I caught a flash of sickly green—Beetle’s shirt. He was standing next to her stove, holding something to the flame. Then he turned around and held up a knife.
I flew past the staircase in front of her door and jumped inside. “You’re going to die.” I came up behind Beetle and pressed the barrel of my gun to his back.
“No, Archer,” Zoe’s voice cracked. Her face was covered in black streaks of coagulated blood.
Beetle lunged forward, stopped at her feet, and reached up to press the glowing tip of his knife to her neck. The black scent of burning flesh caught in my throat, and black spots marred my vision. The crack of the gun blast nearly ruptured my ear drums.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zoe
My eyes snapped shut, and my head flew forward. I fell to the ground, unable to hear anything but the ringing sound in my ears. My neck stung from the burn. The wound throbbed with every heartbeat, a steady reminder of how close I’d come to dying.
If Archer hadn’t shown up when he did, if he hadn’t been ready to kill Mr. Beetle, my life would be over. Mr. Beetle would have plunged that knife right through my throat, the ultimate payback for not indulging his twisted obsession with me.
“You can’t hurt me.” Mr. Beetle got up off the floor with his knife held high. Blood bloomed from Beetle’s side. He didn’t seem to feel the bullet wound at all. His eyes burned with madness. Maybe he was so crazy he didn’t even register the pain. Maybe he refused to stop before he accomplished what he came here to do. Whatever the case, Mr. Beetle still had plenty of fight left in him.
He bared his teeth in a wordless snarl and ran at Archer. But Archer was ready for him. He sidestepped the reckless attack and kicked Beetle square in the chest. Beetle crumpled to the floor, making horrible wheezing sounds as he tried to breathe again.
Archer flipped him over onto his back. Beetle glared up at him, that dark fire still burning in his eyes. I’d always thought Mr. Beetle was harmless. I had no idea something so sinister lurked beneath his placid surface.
Archer leveled his gun at Mr. Beetle’s face. “I said you were going to die, and I meant it. You deserve it for daring to lay a finger on her.”
“Mean man,” Beetle said. “You’re no good for her. I’m supposed to be with her. Me. Not you.”
Archer reached into his back pocket to pull out a pair of zip ties. Then he grabbed Beetle by the wrist. Beetle started sobbing. His lower lip quivered.
“P-p-please,” the man begged. “I won’t bother Zoe ever again.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ll keep coming back.” Archer bound his wrists first. Then he shoved Beetle onto his side before kneeling down to zip tie his legs, too. “I can’t let that happen.”
Archer had a hard look in his eyes. Merciless. Cold. I realized at that moment Archer meant to kill Mr. Beetle.
“Archer,” I pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”
He stopped and turned to look at me. “Zoe, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. There’s only one way to make sure you’re safe.”
Archer kicked Beetle right in the face, so hard that I could practically feel his nose cracking. Archer didn’t stop. He kicked Beetle in the ribs, the stomach, the chest. I closed my eyes to block out the violent sight, but I couldn’t drown out the horrible sounds.
“Please, Archer. Please, stop.”
“I’m doing this for you, Zoe.”
I opened my eyes to see Archer kneeling beside Beetle. He wrapped his hands around the pitiful man’s neck. Beetle tried to push Archer’s hands away, but he was too weak. He couldn’t get leverage with his bound hands. Archer’s hands never wavered.
“Archer, don’t! It’s over. I’m safe.”
“Not yet, you’re not,” he said, not even turning back to look at me. “You’ll never be safe as long as this sick fuck is still breathing.”
Beetle’s face turned an ugly shade of purple. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and his mouth gaped open as he struggled for air.
“Archer, don’t kill him. Please.”
“He’s crazy.”
“Yes,” I said. “He needs help. Not this.”
“How can you care about this psycho after what he did to you?” Archer asked, his hands still gripping Beetle’s throat.
“Because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But more importantly, I care about you. I care about us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want this hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives. I can’t be with you if you kill him. Don’t throw everything away for someone like him. Just let him go. Let the police handle this.”
Archer’s hands slid from Beetle’s neck. The man fell back on the floor, gasping for breath. Archer stood up and looked down at the man writhing on the floor. “You’re right, Zoe. He’s not worth it.”
He rushed over to me and untied the ropes from my limbs. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
The ropes fell away from me, and I wrapped my arms around Archer. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s all going to be okay now.”
<
br /> Archer kissed me. There was relief, and angst, and also doubt, but his lips were just as sweet as they’d ever been. He wasn’t the same man he was a few seconds ago. It was frightening how he could switch so easily. One second he was a murderer. The next, he was the loving man that I knew. Which one was the real Archer?
We left Beetle tied up on the floor while Archer called the police. When he was on the phone, a revolver crept past the doorframe, moved side to side, then Chloe’s tear-stained face came into view. She locked eyes with me then ran over to give me a hug.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“I’m fine. It’ll heal in a few days.”
“And Mr. Beetle?”
I motioned toward the kitchen. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“No.”
“Too bad,” she said. “Archer should have killed him.”
I stayed quiet and listened while Archer spoke to the emergency dispatcher. He told them what happened, but he left out the part about choking Beetle half to death. When the police arrived, they didn’t care. It was obvious to them what had happened.
Two officers held Beetle down while they reached into his pocket to pull his ID out.
The female officer dragged Beetle to his feet. “Clarence Andrews,” she said. “You’re under arrest. Kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder. You’re going away for a long time.”
She read him his rights as she walked him out of the apartment. A couple of paramedics came in to check me out. While they did that, more officers came in to take Archer’s statement. He stared at me the entire time the police were talking to him. He seemed sad, like I was still tied up and he never got to me. Part of me wondered if he’d ever leave that moment, or if he’d just be walking through it forever, living his life as if it were a dream.
Despite the blow to the head, I didn’t have a concussion, and I didn’t need stitches. The burn on my neck was superficial. They rubbed some ointment on it, and I was good to go. A detective took my statement after that. I just confirmed everything that Archer said, which was the truth. He had saved my life.
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