Just a Little Honesty

by Tracie Puckett

  “Luke?” I asked, wringing my hair. “You still there?”

  When he didn’t answer, I stepped out of the stream and pulled the shower curtain back, but only far enough to stick my head out.

  But it wasn’t Luke’s stare that I met.

  As I watched the cold blue eyes from the other side of the room, I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach, as if some unknowable force had just ripped through my body and knocked the wind right out of me.

  I tried to find my voice to yell for help, but all I could manage was a scream.

  I’d come face-to-face with the one man I’d always prayed I’d never have to meet.

  Conan Milton stood only feet away, his back leaning against the bathroom door, his arms folded at his chest, and one foot crossed in front of the other as he watched me with a playful grin.

  I threw the shower curtain closed again and backed as far into the corner as I possibly could. My heart slammed against my chest, and for several long seconds, I seriously considered the fact that I may have a heart-attack right there in the shower.

  Where was Luke? Why hadn’t he stopped Conan? Why wasn’t he forcing his way through the door to help me?

  I screamed for Luke once again, but the scream barely left my body. I banged on the walls, praying that he would come for me, but I couldn’t hear anything outside the bathroom.

  “Julie Little,” a baritone voice said slowly outside the shower, and I sank to the floor and held my knees against my naked chest.

  I forced my hand over my mouth and tried to restrain my sobs, but nothing—not even the shower water—could curtail the sound of my cries.

  “Just like your mother,” he said, and his voice was thick. “Beautiful and stupid.”

  I dropped my face into my knees and cried, but I couldn’t tell which drops came from the shower head and which were my own tears. The water fell on me, pelting my body relentlessly as I sat bawling in the tub.

  “If you’re going to kill me, please just kill me,” I heard myself whispering, and the faint echo of my words resounded through the room.

  “I’m going to, sweetheart,” he said, and his assurance didn’t make me feel any better. “But I thought we could have a little heart-to-heart first.”

  “Please, just kill me—”

  “Can’t do that,” he said, and his voice only got closer. “Not just yet.”

  I could hear his footsteps growing closer to the shower, but they stopped short of the curtain. I lifted my head and watched as his shadow hovered nearby, but then he sank down to sit on the toilet. After a few brief moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “You know what my favorite part of freedom is?”

  I kept shaking—cold, though the water was hot—and I didn’t dare answer him. I rocked myself, praying for some kind of miracle, but every time I closed my eyes… I went right back to Luke.

  Where was he?

  I simply kept my head low and hoped that whatever was going to happen would just happen. I didn’t need the torture; I didn’t need to hear his voice. All I wanted was an easy out, and dying was about the only way that was going to happen.

  I didn’t have some crazy notion that I needed to die a hero; I would’ve gladly died a coward. But with Conan Milton only inches away from me, all I really wanted was to die. I didn’t care what kind of label came with it.

  “Freedom gives you the power of observation,” he answered. “It’s a beautiful thing. You get to hide away, watch people. You get to learn a lot about them just by studying their subtle movements. And I’ve been watching you, Julie,” he said, and I could hear a smile in his thick voice. “I’ve been watching you since the moment my son led me to this cabin yesterday. Now, he didn’t know it, but as luck would have it, he brought me right to you.”

  I closed my eyes and tried picturing Derek’s face.

  “I never wanted to hurt you, Julie,” he said, and for a moment I almost believed him. His voice didn’t sound as full of mockery as it had before, and it almost sounded sincere. But I had to remind myself that sincerity was easy to fabricate; liars weren’t just good at lying, they were masters at it. But for a moment—a very brief moment—I allowed myself to consider that maybe there was some good in him; everyone had potential for redemption, right?

  But no sooner than I let the thought cross my mind, the sheer fact that I’d given him any kind of leniency made me sick to my stomach. He was the man who’d murdered my parents; he was the monster who’d taken everything away from me. Because of him…my life had been ripped apart piece by piece.

  The wrenching pain only twisted itself deeper and deeper into my gut.

  “Then why?” I asked, barely finding my breath between sobs. “If you never wanted to hurt me, then why are you doing this?”

  “Ah, there she is,” he said, sounding as though it genuinely thrilled him to hear me talking back. “You see, Julie, I used to value family. I had this thing about blood and loyalty and… well, you went and screwed that up, sweetheart.”

  I swallowed hard and then held my breath.

  “Hannah was…God, what a disappointment. She could’ve killed you six months ago and ended this train wreck once and for all.”

  “You can’t blame this on her,” I stammered. “This is you. This is all you—”

  “Now, Julie,” he said, pretending to be hurt by my accusation. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? This isn’t all my fault. You could’ve just minded your own business; you could’ve stayed away from my family—”

  “Your family came to me,” I said, no longer crying. I don’t know if the tears had completely drained, or if I’d just somehow gotten stronger. But I found myself steadily growing to my feet once again.

  “And Hannah,” he said, letting out a slow sigh. “She had the right intentions; her heart was in the right place, she just didn’t have the best follow-through.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I said, trying to find my nerve. “She nearly killed—”

  “Luke,” he said, and he savored the word on his lips. “He’s a feisty one, huh?”

  “Don’t hurt him,” I cried, and I prayed that my plea wasn’t too late. If Luke was anywhere nearby and still breathing, I couldn’t see how he wouldn’t do everything within his power to get to me. “Don’t—you—dare—hurt—him—”

  “Relax,” he said, and his voice was slimy and wicked. “He’s still alive… for now. And he won’t feel a thing. In fact, the actual death part will probably be the silver lining after all is said and done.”

  “You can’t hurt him!”

  “Oh, honey,” he said, and his nerves never once came through in his tone. He was solid, steady. He wasn’t the least bit concerned that his plan might fall through. “Every time you open your mouth you hurt him a little more.” he continued. “Don’t forget I’ve been watching you, Julie. And I know—as well as I know the walls of the West Bridge Pen—that your world revolves around Officer Lucas Reibeck.” He let out a low sigh and then laughed. “I know how much your cousin and his little gal mean to you. But better yet, sweetheart, I know just how much you mean to all of them.”

  I stood against the shower wall, pressing myself as far away from the curtain as possible. I kept praying that the walls would collapse, or that by some freak of nature, I’d suddenly gain the strength I needed to break through them myself. There was no way out… not without facing Milton… and not without dying.

  “Your friends are all tied up,” he said, and it was another dagger straight through my heart. “Matt and Kara have been struggling for hours, but… Luke was the hard one. He rarely lets his guard down, you know? And I guess I should thank you for creating that little window of opportunity for me. You got to him; you got in his head. And that gave me a perfect opportunity to strike, Julie. So, they sit out there, and they wait—conscious, angry, and scared.”

  “Please let them go—”

  “No can do, sweetheart,” he said, and I heard him shuffling again. “They’re gonna hear e
very scream… they’re gonna hear you beg for your life, and they’re just gonna sit there… helpless.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Would understanding help you rest in peace, Julie?” he asked, and I could hear the mockery laced in his tone. He suddenly ripped the curtain back to face me, and the cold air rushed against my body. I shivered, but I somehow managed to keep myself from faltering back down to the floor. “My son—God help him—fell in love with you. He chose you over his own flesh and blood, and if there’s one thing I won’t tolerate,” he said. “Is my son turning his back on me for you!”

  “Derek is my best friend—”

  “And that’s a problem, Julie,” he said, sneering. His golden hair was dirty and disheveled. A smudge of mud ran just below his right eye, and a bloodied gash stretched across his cheek. The time in prison hadn’t changed him much; he still bore his wicked grin, his cold eyes, and his devilish glare. “No son of mine is getting involved with a Little.” He stepped closer, his feet almost touching the bottom of the tub, and he leaned forward. I caught a glimpse of Derek’s soft features buried beneath his father’s rugged stare, and my stomach began to hollow once again. “You wanna know why I escaped, Julie?”

  “No—”

  “Derek has to die,” he said, and his smile grew wider. “I’ve had my share of opportunities to end him. Hell, I could’ve killed both of you today in the woods, and no one would’ve been the wiser. But I had to be a good dad,” he said, and he seemed to believe he was doing his son some kind of justice. “I had to let him go, let him stir. I had to let him feel the overwhelming guilt and anger that pulses through our veins. He needs to understand that he’s a Milton, and no amount of sucking up to your family is going to change that.” He reached back to pull a gun from the back of his waistband, but he only held it at his side. I watched as he gripped it, never once taking my eyes off of the weapon.

  So this was how it was going to end? No escape? No hero? Death by a Milton… in the true Little fashion.

  “It was never my plan to hurt you,” he said again, and his blue eyes softened. “But I’ll be damned if my son chooses you over his own family.” He swallowed hard, and I watched as his chest rose with each heavy breath he took. “Your friends can you hear you. If you have any last pleas…”

  I started to cry again as Conan lifted his hand gun only inches from my face. I couldn’t find my voice, and I didn’t really care. Nothing I could say would suffice. I couldn’t beg for my life; I couldn’t scream for someone to save me. I couldn’t leave the people I loved, leave all of them behind, knowing that I was disappointed. I couldn’t let them live with the overwhelming guilt. I couldn’t do it. So I kept my lips pressed together.

  Conan kept the gun in the air, but his hand was no longer steady. It shook a little harder the longer he held it, and his eyes flickered with the tiniest hint—the absolute tiniest hint—of remorse. After a full sixty seconds passed and he hadn’t made a move, I slowly licked my lips and met his gaze.

  “You’ve had that gun to my head for a long time, and you still haven’t pulled the trigger,” I said, and I wasn’t giving him permission to; I only vocalized my observation. “What’s the problem? You can’t kill a little girl? Or maybe you’re too damn scared of what losing me will do to your son?” He scoffed at the absurdity, but tears welled in the bottom of his eyes. “You don’t want to kill Derek, and you don’t want to kill me. You just can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t need you anymore—”

  But the gun clicked and interrupted my speech. He’d let go, he’d done it. He’d given himself permission to kill me, but something hadn’t gone as planned. The gun simply clicked, and nothing but that tiny sound left the barrel.

  Conan pulled his weapon back, readjusted the safety switch, lifted it again, and then he shrugged.

  “Let’s end this,” he said, but before I could mutter a tiny cry, the room filled with an explosion. For a second, I thought I saw the door burst open, but then the sound of gunfire pierced my ears, forcing me to bury my head in my arms. But no pain followed the sound; I hadn’t been struck.

  I looked up from my hands and realized that his bullet hadn’t hit me, that it’d somehow missed my body. But as I looked back to meet his stare again, his eyes glazed over, and he stood—nearly paralyzed—in the middle of the room. He slowly dropped his head to look at his chest, but his weight began to pull him down.

  Conan’s body slowly drifted forward and then descended with a thud on the bathroom floor, spilling his blood all over the wet wood.

  I stood perfectly still, tears spilling from my eyes as I stared straight forward. The door had opened, and he’d come to my rescue.

  I let a few moments pass as I watched him stand at the threshold wielding a gun.

  “Julie,” he whispered as he looked down to Conan’s lifeless body. He dropped the gun at his feet and stepped over the bloodied man next to him. He reached forward and wrapped my naked body in a towel, never noticing for a minute that I was anything but scared and shaken.

  “He’s dead,” I cried, and I never tore my eyes away from the lifeless murderer beneath me. I’d never—not once in my eighteen years—watched a man’s life fade from his eyes and vanish into thin air. I’d heard horror stories; I’d seen plenty of movies. But I’d never… never seen it for myself.

  Conan’s blood clung to my feet as I tried to step over him.

  “He’s dead,” I said again, tasting my tears as they brushed my lips. No matter how many times I said it, or how hard I stared, Conan’s body didn’t move.

  “It was you or him,” he said, and his voice didn’t waver in the slightest.

  “If you hadn’t come back—”

  “But I did,” Derek said, lifting my face to meet his stare. A huge wave of relief swept through his eyes, and he kept his grasp firm on my arms.

  “Is everybody okay?” I asked, trying to push through the door.

  “They’re fine,” he assured me. “Just a little tied up. It was either save them or save you.”

  I stared at his blue eyes for a few long seconds, and after I found the strength to move, I lifted myself up to my toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. He closed his eyes as if to savor the moment, and he held me even tighter.

  It hadn’t seemed to faze him for a minute that he’d just killed a man; he’d just ended his father’s life with nothing more than a bullet to the back. All that seemed to matter was that he’d saved me, and I could feel his relief radiating from his hold.

  “Thank you,” I said, dropping my head to cry against his chest.

  “I’d say anytime,” he said, loosening his grip to look at me. “But let’s not do this again, okay?”

  I nodded, and he did too.

  “Let’s go get the others,” he said, pulling my towel tighter. But before he turned out of the room, I reached forward and took his wrist.

  “Derek,” I said, looking from his father to him. My tears spilled harder than they had all night. “You didn’t have a choice. He was reckless.” I lowered my head and closed my eyes. “You’re nothing like him—”

  “I know,” he said, and he stepped back to face me again. He pushed a tuft of wet hair from my eyes and lowered his gaze. “Julie, I know.”

  He pulled me to his chest and hugged me again.

  “Come on,” he said, rubbing a hand across my back. “There are three people out there who are dying to see you alive.”

  I nodded, and he loosened his hold.

  And together we walked out of the bathroom, leaving Conan’s dead body to waste on the floor.

  Dear Reader,

  If you enjoyed reading Just a Little Honesty and have a moment to spare, I would greatly appreciate a review on the site where you purchased the book.

  Thank you!

  -Tracie

  http://traciepuckett.com/

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  Other book
s available for download:

  The Webster Grove Series

  (1)The New Girl

  (2)Under the Mistletoe

  (3)Secrets to Keep

  (4)Coming Out

  (5)All Good Things

  Just a Little Series

  (1)Just a Little Crush

  (2)Just a Little Embrace

  (3)Just a Little Sincerity

  (4)Just a Little Promise

  (5) Just a Little Insecurity

  (6) Just a Little Surprise

  (7) Just a Little Honesty

  Coming Soon: Just a Little Reminder

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