Before the Storm

by Leslie Tentler

  Reaching the downtown square a few minutes later, he saw that it looked like a ghost town. There were no cars on the streets, and the few buildings that were without hurricane shutters had plywood boards nailed over the windows and doors. Traffic lights at the intersections swung on their cables like pendulums, flashing a cautionary yellow. Already, he saw that a telephone line was down and lay snakelike across the road in front of the pharmacy.

  He felt a wave of foolishness for coming here, knowing he was probably wasting precious time when he should be on the road. That feeling remained as Mark passed the Sea Breeze Centre…until he rounded the corner and peered into the rear alley. Surprise made his skin tingle. Samantha’s car sat next to Luther’s ancient pickup.

  Also disturbing, the service door to Café Bella stood open in the driving rain.

  Mark parked behind Samantha’s car and cut the engine. He got out, making a run for the yawning door.

  “Samantha?” He clicked the light switch on the wall inside the entrance, but the interior remained dark.

  “Samantha!” he called again, stamping water from his feet. Mark walked farther into the kitchen and then felt his way into the shadowed storefront. Only a thin film of light seeped in from the outside.

  His heart began to beat harder at the pounding coming from somewhere down the back hallway that led to the restrooms and storeroom. He traveled in that direction, keeping a hand on the wall in the grainy darkness. His stomach quivered as the closet came into sight. An iron bar from one of the café shelves had been wedged underneath the door’s latch. More pounding shook the door.

  “Hang on!” he yelled. Had they been robbed? Mark tugged at the bar until it came free and opened the door. His scalp prickled at the sight of Luther leaning heavily against the wall. He wore a T-shirt, and even in the shadows Mark could see blood staining his left sleeve. A cloth of some kind had been tied around his arm to staunch the flow. Samantha wasn’t with him.

  “They took her, Mr. St. Clair.”

  Fear dug into Mark’s gut. “Who did?”

  “Two men.” Luther grimaced in pain. “Pretty sure one of ’em was Red Leary.”

  His heart turned over at the name. How had Leary found her? And if Samantha hadn’t been the one to kill Leary’s brother, what did he want with her? The money she’d supposedly stolen? “Luther, listen to me. Do you know where they went? What kind of car they’re driving?”

  When Luther weakly shook his head, Mark pulled his phone from his pocket, hoping to alert the police, before remembering the outage. He tried anyway, but there was still no service. He found his way back to the darkened kitchen, trying the landline there, but it was dead. Mark thought of the wire he’d seen down in front of the pharmacy. He ran a hand over his face, tamping down panic and trying not to think about what might be happening to Samantha right now.

  “Shoulda known I hadn’t seen the last of ’em.”

  Luther’s deep voice caused Mark to turn around. Blood leaked down the larger man’s arm as he wobbled unsteadily into the kitchen.

  “Last of who?”

  “Took care of the first one. Oily little bastard with a comb-over. Came in here a couple of weeks ago, threatening Sam. She was so shook up she left his note in the storeroom, telling her where to meet him.”

  The Sea King.

  “But I met up with him first.” Luther’s features had hardened, and for the first time Mark believed he saw a flash of the man who had indeed served time in a maximum-security penitentiary. “Followed him into Charleston. Cozied up to him at a bar and helped him get his drink on. Little by little, he gets drunker and starts tellin’ me his business…about the Blue Iris and Leary…why he was here.”

  Mark went still. So Luther had learned Samantha’s real identity, too.

  “Sam’s a kind, fair woman. Don’t care what nobody says.” Luther’s mouth twisted with disgust. “The way that perverted son of a bitch talked about her—the things he said he was gonna do to her before handing her over to Leary…”

  Luther shrugged his big shoulders, his gaze meaningful. “Not my fault if the fool can’t hold his liquor. Or swim.”

  He swayed then, nearly crashing to the ground. Mark found a chair and pulled it out for him. “Sit down, Luther. You’re bleeding pretty bad.”

  “It’s a flesh wound, is all. Bullet grazed my arm pretty good. But the fat one hit me with somethin’ before they threw me in the closet. I’m dizzy as hell.” Gingerly, he touched his crown. His voice grew ragged as he looked up at Mark. “Sam’s the only reason I’m breathin’ right now. She told ’em she would take ’em to what they wanted, but only if they left me here alive. But I could tell by their eyes they’re plannin’ to come back to kill me, soon as they’re done with her.”

  Mark swallowed, his throat dry. “They wanted something?”

  “Diamonds.”

  He thought of what Todd Hamilton had told him about Boklov.

  “Said she could take ’em to where they were. At first she swore she didn’t know, then all the sudden she started talkin’ about some stuffed animal.”

  Mark straightened, a heavy feeling inside him. The PI Carter hired had said Samantha had stolen a large amount of money. Was it possible the teddy bear she had given Emily contained not actual money but…diamonds? But why would Samantha have given Emily the toy if something so valuable was hidden inside it?

  Regardless, adrenaline made his blood rush. Mark suddenly knew where they had gone. Samantha was taking them to his house to retrieve the bear.

  The problem was that it was no longer there. Mark had it in the backseat of his car. Mercer had texted him earlier, asking him to bring it with him when he joined them in Augusta. Emily had forgotten it and wanted it with her.

  “They’re gonna hurt her. They already started.”

  Mark’s stomach clenched. “How long have they been gone?”

  “Maybe ten minutes.”

  He had to get back to the resort. Now.

  Mark tried his cell once more, cursing under his breath when it registered no service. Then he handed it to Luther. Service would most likely come back in town before it did on the neck of land the hotel was on. “Keep trying to reach the police on this. If you get through, tell them I’ve gone back to my house at 22 Ocean Lane on the resort property. That’s where they’ve taken Samantha.”

  “I’m coming, too.”

  He stood unsteadily. As much as Mark could use his help, the man was in no condition. He would only slow him down. “Stay here, Luther. Just keep dialing emergency services. If you think you can, go outside on the street and try to flag down a cop. Maybe one will pass by.”

  He took off through the service door, launching himself into his car and quickly backing out despite the rain gushing from the downspouts and the standing water on the asphalt. If he was lucky, the patrol car that had stopped him earlier would still be out on the road. Maybe it had even kept Leary’s vehicle from venturing farther. If not, he could try driving to the police station for help, but it was on the other side of town—a ten-minute loss each way—and he had no guarantee anyone on the small force would be there. He knew what those men would do to Samantha when they got to his house and couldn’t find what they wanted.

  There wasn’t time to waste.

  Nor was there any guarantee the peninsula road would remain accessible for much longer. With the storm moving in, parts of it would no doubt begin to flood. All along the way, Mark kept his eyes open for blue lights cutting through the downpour that would signal assistance. But the roads were completely deserted now, with even the police holed up inside somewhere. There wasn’t time to drive around searching for a stray squad car. Every second counted.

  Passing the Rarity Cove town welcome sign, Mark squinted through the rain hitting the windshield. A line of lanky palm trees bent in the storm’s outer bands like arthritic old men. His knuckles white on the steering wheel, he drove as fast as he could and hoped he wouldn’t end up hydroplaning and spinning into a d
itch. He had to get there.

  He was unarmed, but he had what they wanted.

  He was the only chance Samantha had.

  The sky had turned completely black by the time the Cadillac Escalade roared into the bungalow’s driveway. The oceanfront home appeared dark and deserted, its windows shuttered. The once picturesque trees surrounding it swayed wildly.

  There had been no other choice. Samantha would never have brought them here if she hadn’t been absolutely certain Mark and his family had left for Augusta hours ago. She sat rigidly beside Red in the backseat, listening to her rapid heartbeat in her ears and the hard drum of rain on the vehicle’s top. Red’s fingers cupped the back of her neck, his touch causing revulsion to pool in her stomach. His other hand held his gun, which lay across his thigh. The SUV rocked in a gust.

  “We need to make this fast, boss. If it keeps raining like this, the road back’s going to flood,” Cyril pointed out nervously.

  “We’ll go when I get what I want,” Red snapped. “I’m not leaving a half-mil worth of diamonds to be washed away in the storm tide.”

  Flinching with cold fear, Samantha closed her eyes as he put the tip of the gun’s silencer against her temple. Her heart felt like it might explode. “And we are going to find them here, just like you said—right, babe?”

  With a heavy sigh of resignation, Cyril cut the engine, their view of the bungalow blurring once the wipers stopped and the twin beams of headlights shut off. They had driven over several rows of flowering bushes when the gate cordoning off the private road failed to open, even with the passcode Samantha relayed. She tried to console herself with the knowledge that she had gotten the men away from Luther. Her hope was that he would find some way to escape—use something in the storeroom to break down the door, if he had enough strength—before they returned for him. And she knew they would.

  She felt a terrible tension in her body. She had no illusions. Red would leave no one behind as a witness.

  Rain battered the parked vehicle, darkness making it impossible to see the roiling sea that was only a short distance away. Red braced the SUV’s door open against another fierce gust, gripping Samantha’s arm and dragging her out roughly behind him. The hard rain stung her skin like needle pricks, blinding her as the three of them made their way onto the covered porch.

  “Open the door.”

  Her insides twisted as the gun jabbed low in her back. Although the swing and rockers had been put away, the urn that sat on the stairs, where the key was usually hidden, had been placed against the home’s exterior wall and under the relative safety of the porch eaves. Samantha checked beneath it, but the key was gone. “The key…it’s not here.”

  With a curse, Cyril brushed her aside. He pulled away the plywood that covered the door’s panes with his bare hands and shattered the glass using the butt of his gun. Then he reached a beefy arm inside and turned the lock.

  “Shut off that noise,” Red ordered as they entered, referring to the loud whine of the security system, which must have been running on a backup battery. Somehow, Samantha managed to remember that passcode, too. With trembling fingers, she obediently punched the numbers into the keypad as Cyril went around flipping light switches in vain.

  “No electricity,” he said.

  “Of course not, moron. Look for a flashlight or some candles.” Red shoved Samantha farther into the house. “Now get me what I came for.”

  He followed behind like the grim reaper as Samantha walked on weak legs down the shadowed hallway, her arms gripped over her clenched stomach. Like the rest of the house, hurricane shutters covered the windows in Emily’s bedroom, making it dark as a cave without even the seashell nightlight giving out its pink glow. Samantha felt her way along the whitewashed shelves that held an expansive collection of dolls and stuffed animals, searching for Walton’s familiar, worn fur.

  He wasn’t there.

  Blood rushing in her ears, she moved to the bed, running her hands over the comforter in search of the bear. But there were only throw pillows piled against the headboard. Dropping to her knees, she felt frantically under the bed. The night she had made dinner here, Walton had been in this room.

  “Well?” Red’s voice was strained with impatience.

  “I-I’m looking—”

  She whimpered as he sank his hand into her hair and yanked her back to her feet. “You said they were here. What’s your fucking scheme? To get us marooned out here?”

  “No! I swear!” But her time was ebbing away. Samantha’s chest hurt with the knowledge. All she could think about was that she didn’t want Mark or Emily to find her body here. If she begged, maybe Red would discard her somewhere else, possibly on the beach for the rising waters to claim her.

  She had a sudden, sickening realization. She’d made a horrible snap decision in bringing them here. Samantha had been trying to save Luther’s life, but had she just exposed Mark and his family, too? She had counted on the teddy bear being here, on them taking the diamonds and leaving. But if Emily had it with her…

  Samantha startled as a flash of light flooded the room, leaping in around the shutters’ edges and exposing the hard, angry lines of Red’s face. At the same second, a booming explosion jarred the walls. It must have been the transformer farther down on the resort property.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Cyril intoned from the doorway, where he held a flashlight.

  “Shut up!” Red warned, turning his head and pointing a finger in the larger man’s direction. Then he returned his attention to Samantha.

  “Like I said before, you’re a smart girl.” His voice lowered into a husky rasp as he ran the tip of his index finger down her cheek. “You know I’m going to kill you, right?”

  Her body gave a hard shudder as heat burned behind her eyelids.

  “But I promise you this. Give me those diamonds right now, and I’ll make it easy on you.”

  She made a choking sound as the long barrel of the silencer caressed a point behind her ear. “One shot. You won’t feel a thing.”

  But then he gripped Samantha’s chin, his fingers digging into the soft flesh underneath. Her jaw felt as if it might snap, and tears ran down her cheeks at the sharp flare of pain.

  “I want the diamonds. Now. Or I take you apart piece by piece, Trina. It’s up to you.”

  He released her, shoving his gun into the waistband of his pants. Samantha held her aching jaw as Cyril moved the flashlight’s beam around the room. Her intuition told her Walton wasn’t anywhere in the house. She wouldn’t be able to produce the diamonds.

  “What’s it going to be?”

  “I-I don’t have them,” she managed to whisper.

  His eyes narrowed as he regarded her. Red made a sweeping gesture with his arms and roared, “You said they were here!”

  Samantha wrapped her arms around herself.

  His nostrils flared. He cut his gaze to Cyril and began to roll up his shirtsleeves. “Give me that light. If the diamonds—any of them—are here, find them. Start tossing the place while I spend some time with my brother’s whore.”

  Cyril disappeared from the doorway, a fat ghost.

  The hard blow sent Samantha sprawling backward onto the bed. The room tilted, starbursts crowding her vision. She felt a tingling numbness in her cheekbone that quickly turned into screaming pain. Red set the flashlight on the dresser so that it bathed her in its harsh light. His deadly quiet voice felt like a razor scraping over her nerves.

  “Where are they?”

  Samantha’s heartbeat galloped. Managing to sit up, she breathed shallowly through her mouth, trying not to hyperventilate. Fear shrouded her like a veil, but she would never, ever tell him they were with Mark’s daughter or where the St. Clairs had gone. Outside, rain pummeled the house. The winds howled.

  “This is a girl’s room. Does the kid who lives here have that bear?”

  “She only has the stuffed animal!” she lied. “I took out the diamonds and sold them! They’re gone!”
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br />   He scowled hard. “Then where’s the money?”

  Samantha shrugged weakly. “I-I spent it, most of it, a long time ago. You were right all along—I used what was left of it to start the café.”

  He cracked his knuckles. The sound of it made her stomach roll. “You’re jerking me around, bitch. First you say you know where they are, you drag me all the way out here in the middle of a goddamn hurricane and now you’re telling me they’re gone?”

  “I had to get you away from Luther…” She lifted her chin and forced herself to look him in the eye with defiance. She had to make him believe her. “And I was hoping the storm would trap you here.”

  Electricity charged the air around them. In the flashlight’s swath, Samantha could see him evaluating her claim. Then his lips curled into a thin smile that belied the glittering rage in his eyes.

  “We’ve got some time to kill while Cyril looks around. Devin always said you were a tight little ride. Maybe I’ll give you a go.”

  Her skin tightened with revulsion and terror. She searched the shadowy room for something, anything, she could use as a weapon against him. If she killed him, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. Red advanced, but Samantha scrambled backward and kicked him, missing her mark but hitting him hard enough in the thigh to make him release a blistering curse. She attempted to crawl off the bed, but brutal hands were on her, twisting her body and flipping her onto her back despite her struggling. She strained, reaching for a pink pencil on the nightstand and jabbing hard at his eye with the pointed end. Red partially dodged the blow, the lead sinking deep into the skin over his cheekbone. He howled in pain and fury. Catching her hand, he wrested the makeshift weapon from her fingers as she screamed. Flinging it away, he drove his fist hard into her stomach. Samantha fought for breath, stunned. It hurt to fill her lungs. Reaching over, he ripped the tieback from the window’s frilly curtains.

  She kicked and scratched wildly at him, trying to keep him from winding the cord around her throat. But she was no match for his size or strength. She wheezed, her body arching off the bed and her hands clawing frantically as the cord cut off her breath. He straddled her, his face flushed and eyes fevered. He yanked it tauter, the veins in his arms bulging with the effort. Samantha dug her fingernails into his skin.