He snatches the pen and begins signing the documents by all the numerous flags attached to them. “I will make you regret this.”
I don’t say anything else. I don’t need to. For the moment, I’ve won.
Annalee
* * *
In between Clayton’s many flirty and dirty text messages, I’ve cleaned house all day. It’s a coping mechanism. When I need to clear my head, I clean. Of course, I also need to make room for Clayton to move back in. Even though I’ve given him a hard time and told him it can’t happen immediately, it won’t be long. Once we talk to Emma Grace, it’s pretty much a done deal. I smile thinking of how excited she’ll be to have her daddy back home.
The exhaustion, as I head downstairs, isn’t just about the work I’ve done today. It’s about the fact I got no sleep last night courtesy of Clayton. Thinking about it, about him, and the way it felt to wake up in the middle of the night to the feeling of his hands on me, his mouth, I literally have to squeeze my thighs together. I feel hot immediately. It shouldn’t be possible to want him again, but I do. The drought is officially ended. Thank God.
I glance at the clock. “Shit.” I’ve got to get Emma Grace from school and get her to dance class. Even if I leave right now, I’m still going to be late. I grab my keys from the counter and head into the garage.
The instant I’m behind the wheel I know something is wrong. The seat has been moved. I glance at the rearview mirror and my stomach drops. Samuel is sitting in the back seat. I don’t even have time to scream before he’s got his hands over my mouth.
The chemical smell is overwhelming. My brain begins to fog immediately. I lay on the horn, but from inside the garage, with the door closed, no one will hear. I’m reaching for the garage door opener, but I can’t lift my arm. It’s too heavy. My vision wavers, growing dimmer. Oh God, no.
10
CHAPTER TEN
Clayton
* * *
I pull into the driveway that runs alongside Bennett’s home. It’s small, but it’s a pretty enough place. Annalee would refer to it as quaint or having cottage charm. I’m shaking my head as I get out of the car. I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s as bad as it was when we first met.
Standing there in the gravel beside the porch, I hear the hum of power tools and follow the noise. Bennett is working in the converted barn behind the house. He looks up as I wander in, and finishes cutting the piece he’s working on before turning off the machine.
In the center of the work room is an old grand piano. It’s been painted dark blue with enough of the wood still showing through to make it interesting. It’s perched upright and the innards are gone, having been replaced with shelves.
“That’s a cool piece,” I say.
“You and Samuel have your showdown yet?” he asks.
Definitely to the point. “Yes. And it’s done. He signed over everything…I want to talk to you about Mia, and about a few other things.”
He nods and removes the safety goggles he’s wearing.
“You seriously wear that shit when you’re working?” I ask him.
“Ever had a splinter in your eye?” he fires back.
Fuck. I’m wincing just thinking about it. “No.”
“Well, shove a piece of wood in your eyeball and then get back to me on whether or not goggles are a good idea.”
I shudder. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I’ve been tortured enough for one day.” I pull the deed to the house from my jacket pocket. “That’s for Mia.”
“You’re not going to see her?”
I shake my head. “Not today. You all need to talk about that, decide how you want to handle it. If I’m in there, Mia’s just going to want to talk about Samuel… and I’m kinda done with that topic for today.”
“But he’s gone?” Bennett asks. “He signed over everything and he’s gone?”
“Going. Not sure when he’ll get the hell out of Dodge, but it won’t be long,” I say. I shove my hands in my pocket and lean back against the door frame of the barn. “Do you really love her or do you just love the idea of her after all these years?”
He cocks his brow and I can tell the question pissed him off. “It’s not really your business… that’s between Mia and me.”
I walk forward until we’re nose to nose. “I’m not here to bust your balls or to talk you out of being with her… but, it’s not a stretch to think that ten years apart is a long time, Bennett. People change. People grow the hell up in that length of time. Don’t rush her, and don’t let her rush you.”
I turn to walk away but he stops me. “I do love her. Doesn’t matter if it’s been ten years or a hundred.”
“Then taking it slow for the next few months won’t matter that much, will it?”
He flips me the bird. In this fucked up, weird ass, almost family situation, I take that as a yes and get back in my car as I watch Bennett disappear inside the house. He’ll be good to Mia and he’ll be good for her, I don’t have any doubts. But after so long, they need to take their time and not rush it. Second chances work but if they require a third, all bets are off.
I put my car into reverse and back out of the driveway, just as Carter Hayes pulls up in the rust pile he calls a truck. He rolls his window down which means he wants to talk. Pushing the button to lower mine, I look up at him. And that’s why men drive trucks, I realize. I’m pissed off at having to look up at him.
“I’ve been working in your neighborhood a lot lately and I know this is the time of day your wife always goes to pick up the kid,” he says. “And it might not be anything, but your daddy’s car is parked just a block down from your house and I didn’t see your wife leave.”
It’s like my blood turned to ice in my veins. I feel cold all the way through. “Ask Mia to go get Emma Grace and bring her back here.”
Carter nods and pulls past me to turn into the driveway and I take off in a hail of flying gravel and dust. I’ve got to get to Annalee, and I can only pray I won’t be too late.
Annalee
Someone is pounding rocks inside my skull. Opening my eyes, everything is blurry. I’m in my kitchen, in a chair beside the island, that much I know, but I’m seeing double of everything.
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t wake up.”
It’s Samuel’s voice. The fear is instant, spiking my heart rate and my blood pressure, which in turn makes the headache worse.
“What are you doing?” I ask. My voice sounds thick, the words slurred and barely intelligible.
“I drugged you. I helped myself to some of the gas that our local vet uses to anesthetize horses,” he says, almost apologetically.
“Emmitt Hayes let you on his property?”
Samuel laughs. “Of course not. I got him preoccupied with a stray dog that someone, namely me, dumped at his gate after being run over by a car.”
He’d run over a dog to create a distraction? Fuck. I try to sit up straighter in the chair, but I can’t. I realize that my hands and feet are tied together, forcing me to slump forward.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You don’t have to distract me or stall me… I don’t plan to kill you until Clayton shows up,” he explains, holding up the revolver and waving it like a mad man. “I know better than to trust him, especially after today. Today, I saw just how much my son was like me.”
Oh, God. It’s all starting to come together or the fog from the fucking horse tranquilizer he drugged me with is starting to lift.
“Samuel, I know you’re angry at Clayton, but you have to see that this won’t work! If you do this, you’ll go to prison!”
“I’ll wind up there anyway,” he says. “I can’t trust him not to take what he has on me to the cops. We both know that he’d love nothing better than to see me suffer.”
“Clayton keeps his word… always.” And I’m going to pay the price for it. It’s not fair to blame him. I know that. And as much as I love him, right now, he isn’t what’s on my mind. It’s Em
ma Grace. She’s sitting at her dance class, decked out from head to toe in her pink dance gear, staring longingly at the older girls who already get to wear toe shoes. What will this do to her? If this crazy son of a bitch actually puts a bullet in me, what on earth will happen to my baby girl?
“He’s a real Boy Scout with all his spying, stealing, bribery,” Samuel says bitterly. “The minute my back is turned, he’ll burn me… but not if I burn him first.”
“I don’t know what that means.” I am stalling, buying as much time as I can. Maybe he doesn’t plan on killing me till Clayton walks in to see it, but the son of a bitch is crazy and could change his mind at any time. Clearly, he’s cracked.
Samuel gets up from the table and starts pacing the kitchen, randomly looking in cabinets and drawers. “It means that my dear son will have a mental breakdown, shooting you, his estranged wife, and his divorce attorney, before setting the house on fire and putting a bullet in his own head.”
I can feel the tears building, trying to break through. I can’t let them. If I fall apart now, there’s no getting out of it. Hell, there’s no getting out of it anyway, but at least I won’t give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“What about Emma Grace? Do you really want to leave your only grandchild without either of her parents?” It’s a reasonable question, something that would make most people pause at least. With him, I know it’s a long shot.
“There’s always collateral damage, Annalee… just be thankful she’s not here to burn with you all,” he replies. Both his tone and his eyes are completely cold. He’s never been especially warm. Even when Samuel is being pleasant, there’s been a vague sense of unease in his presence. I thought he was simply a narcissist. I was wrong. He’s a full-blown sociopath.
There won’t be any reasoning with him. I can’t reach him because there’s nothing inside. He’s just a black hole, incapable of feeling. The only things he understands are power and destruction.
I don’t really have a plan yet, only the faintest stirrings of one. But I have to get my hands free, otherwise, I’m going to die here and so will Clayton when he shows up. And he will. Because he is the Boy Scout Samuel accused him of being. When the dance teacher can’t find me, she’ll call him and then he will worry. I feel sick just thinking about.
“Can you please untie my hands for a moment? Just enough to let me sit up straight?” I plead with him, exaggerating the slurred speech. My head is starting to clear, but he doesn’t need to know that. If he thinks I’m still loopy from the drugs, he might be a little less cautious. If I can just get my hands free, I might have a chance.
“No.”
Of course, he’s got to be a dick. Then again, I’m tied to a chair, him being a dick is kind of a given. “Please… it’s the drug. I feel like I’m going to throw up! Sitting up will help.”
He sighs. “I won’t kill you until he’s here, Annalee, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you. Don’t try anything.”
“I won’t,” I lie.
He lays the gun down on the counter and walks toward me. The ropes are tied in such a way that he has to crouch beside the chair to loosen them. The second my hands are free, I grab his hair and slam his face against the island. He hits it with a satisfying thud.
I’m stronger than I look and a hell of a lot stronger than he expected me to be. Once won’t be nearly enough, but I’ve lost the element of surprise. It’s not nearly as easy the second time, still I manage to bang his head against the wood one more time. He pushes me off, the chair tipping over.
Even though it hurt like a bitch, it was just what I needed. That allows me to slide my feet, and the ropes he’d used to tie them, over the legs of the chair. I’m free. Well, other than being trapped in the house with my murderous father-in-law, but at least for the moment I have the use of all my limbs.
I’m backing away from the island, barely on my feet before he’s coming at me. Samuel is a big man, tall and broad shouldered just like Clayton. All the yoga and Pilates in the world isn’t going to make me strong enough to tangle with him. But I’ve got pretty good aim.
There’s a shelf beside me that has all of our pretty and utterly useless dishes on it. They’re finally going to get used for something, at least. One by one, I send those plates sailing at him. He manages to duck most of them, but he’s not entirely unscathed. There’s a cut over his eyebrow. It’s going to scar. It’s a little twisted just how happy that thought makes me.
The flying dinner plates have bought me enough time to get around the island. I grab the one of the knives from the block. The gun is still too far away. He’ll catch me before I can even get close to it.
“You can’t win this, Annalee. There’s no way you can stop me,” he says smugly.
I don’t have to stop him. Just slow him down. Clayton will be here. That’s the thing I keep telling myself. Somehow, someway, he will show up because I need him to.
It’s the last thought I have before Samuel charges me. I grip the knife tighter and wait for the impact.
11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Clayton
* * *
I ease my car onto the driveway at the house. The garage door is closed, Annalee is nowhere in sight but Samuel’s car is still parked just down the street. I owe Carter Hayes. I owe him big.
Opening the garage door would be too loud. I have no idea what Samuel is up to but I know it can’t be good. Please, do not let me be too late.
I move around to the side of the house. Emma Grace has a bad habit of opening the dining room doors and stepping out onto the deck without locking them back. I’m praying that I’m in luck and she’s left them unlatched this time.
As I approach the door, I hear the sounds coming from inside. Shouting, breaking dishes—I’ve got to get in there. I try the door and for once, it’s actually locked. Son of a bitch. Breaking the glass is pretty much my only option.
I take off my jacket and put it against the pane, before putting my fist through it. There are a few minor cuts, but nothing so bad that it’ll prevent me from knocking Samuel on his ass.
Once inside, I move past the table and to the kitchen door. What I see, makes my blood run cold. Annalee is on the floor, Samuel is standing above her with a knife in his hands. They’re both covered in blood but whether it’s his or hers, I have no idea.
I don’t hesitate. I can’t afford to. Without a second thought, I rush at Samuel, putting my shoulder right into his gut and taking him down. We’re sliding across the kitchen floor until we land against the cabinet with a loud thud. More dishes crash and break. There’s glass everywhere.
I feel the knife slicing at my shoulder, but it’s a total disconnect. Whatever happens, he needs to be subdued before he can hurt her any more. I manage to pin him to the ground. I draw my fist back to hit him.
The sound of it, when his nose crunches beneath my fist, is oddly satisfying, so I hit him again. And again. I don’t know how many times. All I know is that I can hear Annalee screaming behind me and my knuckles are raw and bloody by the time I’m finally coherent enough to stop.
I look down at Samuel. He’s barely conscious and his face is a bloody mess. The knife is on the floor, his hands long since slack. I get to my feet slowly. The blood is rushing still, but that first wave of adrenaline has given way to just gut clenching fear.
I kick the knife away and turn to Annalee. She’s holding her arm, and I can see the blood seeping through her fingers, but she’s got a gun in her hands.
“I called 9-1-1,” she says. “They’re sending paramedics and the sheriff. Where’s Emma Grace?”
“Mia has her. She’s safe.” Even as I’m answering her, I’m grabbing a towel from the drawer and walking toward her. “Let me see.”
“It’s not bad,” she replies stiffly.
Which means it is. “Let me see,” I tell her again.
Reluctantly, she moves her hand and I can see the deep gash in her forearm. There are others—little
nicks and cuts on her hands and one on her cheek. Whether they’re from the knife or from the broken glass everywhere, I have no idea. I wrap the towel around her arm and put pressure on it. “I should have fucking killed him.”
Annalee
* * *
I’ve never seen Clay like this. He’s not a violent man, but I truly thought he would kill Samuel. The fury that consumed him then is something I honestly didn’t know he had inside him. I know he’s scared for me, and I know how much he hates Samuel, but it’s frightening to see this side of him. “He’ll go to prison for this… We’re done with him, Clayton. This is the end of it.”
“I should have known,” he whispers. “I should have realized this morning that he gave in too easy and that he was going to try something… but I never would have imagined this. I’m so sorry he hurt you.”
There he is taking responsibility for everything again. “You can’t control him or what he does. That isn’t your job. I’m fine. Really. Just a scratch.”
He gives me a look that is clearly skeptical. “That isn’t a scratch. It’s a fucking stab wound, Annalee. Because my father is a sociopath.”
I lean against him. Oddly enough, it isn’t because I need reassurance, but because he does. “Yes, he is. He’s also nuttier than a ten pound fruitcake, but currently he’s unconscious because you beat the ever-loving shit out of him, so we’re okay right now.”
“Are we?” From his tone, I know he’s not just talking about the crazy that just went down with Samuel. He’s asking about something else altogether.
Clayton (Bourbon & Blood Book 2) Page 11