WILDER DAYS

by Linda Winstead Jones

“Maybe you don’t want me to love you,” Vic said when the time for him to say, “I love you, too,” had come and gone. “Maybe it’s just too soon or too fast, or maybe you still haven’t forgiven me, but, Del—” She lifted her face, looked him dead in the eye. “It’s not going away. It never did.”

  Del tipped his face down and kissed her, soft and brief. He wanted more. He wanted everything. “Nothing scares me anymore,” he whispered. “At least, nothing scared me until I came here and found this.”

  “I scare you?”

  “The way you make me feel, that scares me.” He knew what she wanted, what she needed. He just wasn’t sure he could give it to her. In the end, would it all turn ugly again?

  “How do you feel?”

  Like you’re inside me, all the time. Like I belong here. Like when I walked through that front door, I was coming home. “Confused.”

  She sighed and settled back against his side. “I know what you mean.”

  He tried his own vow in the recesses of his mind. Vic was right; it would be easiest to make love to her, and make the confession while he was inside her. Control gone, passion flaring… I love you seemed perfectly reasonable, perfectly right.

  But sitting on the couch holding hands, thinking about the future and the past, saying the words was harder.

  The doorbell rang, surprising them both. Vic jumped a little, but she rose quickly to answer the door.

  “I’ll get it,” he said, wondering why the guys out front hadn’t called in to let him know who was at the door. Rookies, probably.

  “I can answer the door,” Vic said as she walked past him.

  He grabbed his Glock from the table and stuck it at his spine, where it would be handy but out of sight, and was right behind Vic when she peered through the peephole in her front door. She glanced over her shoulder. “It’s Ryan Parrish,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll get rid of him quick.”

  He hadn’t yet met Parrish, but no one Vic had dated was on his list of people he’d most like to socialize with. Especially now.

  Parrish was facing the street, waving to the cops who sat in the unmarked car at the curb. They waved back and hefted bottles of soda in their hands. Morons.

  Parrish turned around slowly, away from Del at first, his head down as he stepped into the foyer and reached back to close the door behind him.

  When the man lifted his head, Del reached for his gun.

  “Don’t try it,” Robert Parvin said, his own gun popping up and taking aim at Vic. He cocked his head and smiled. “Surprised to see me?”

  He hadn’t seen Parvin for three years. “I thought you were dead.”

  “That was the plan.” Parvin glanced toward the stairwell. “Is the kid asleep?”

  Vic glanced from Del to Parvin. “What’s going on?”

  The man she’d called Ryan Parrish poked her in the ribs with the gun. “Is she asleep?” he asked again.

  “Yes.”

  Parvin gestured toward Del with the gun. “Drop your weapon slowly, Wilder. Easy. Two fingers only. We don’t want to wake Noelle up. There’s no reason to involve her in this.” He smiled. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Del very easily drew his Glock, using two fingers as Parvin had instructed. He dipped down and placed the gun on the floor.

  Again, Parvin glanced toward the stairs. “Let’s move into the living room.”

  They did, Vic trembling as she looked from Del to her father’s friend and back again. “Who is he?”

  “Robert Parvin. I never knew him as Bob, but I do remember him using the name Bobby Joe at one time. He’s a gun runner, or at least he was last time I checked. He disappeared years ago. Word was, and still is, that he was executed and buried in a slab of concrete somewhere.”

  “Yes,” Parvin said. “All true. Well, except for the part about me being dead. I always found guns more profitable than other ventures, but my little sister was into drugs. That’s how she got acquainted with Agent Wilder. He sent her to jail.” His face hardened. “She died there, did you know that?”

  “Yes, I heard,” Del said softly. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t...”

  Parvin whipped out his free hand and slapped Vic across the cheek. Hard. Del took a step forward, but was stopped when the weapon Parvin held was once again aimed at Vic’s head.

  “You annoy me, she pays,” Parvin said tightly. “Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” Del whispered. An unexpected helplessness welled up inside him. The sight of that gun at Vic’s head made him literally ill, and there was nothing he could do until Parvin moved the threat away from her. “You won’t get away with this,” he said. “The police out front, they saw you come in.”

  “Don’t worry about them. They’re nice young men. I met them last night, outside Archard’s house. Took them a little something to eat, before your unfortunate return. They’ll be out cold in a few minutes, and by the time they wake up, this will all be over.”

  “What are you going to do?” Vic asked.

  Parvin looked at her and smiled. “Preston will be here soon.”

  “Preston is in jail,” Del said.

  The armed man cocked his head to one side. “Not anymore. I have a very good attorney, and you have no evidence that Preston is behind recent unfortunate events. Not yet, anyway,” Parvin added.

  “What do you want?” Del asked softly.

  “I want you dead, I want Victoria dead, I want Preston to take the fall...” Parvin leaned in and smiled. “And I want your little girl.”

  Del’s fingers itched. If he was fast enough, sure enough… no, not like this. Not when his blood was boiling. He’d get them all killed that way. If only the gun would drop, just a little, so it wasn’t aimed so damned surely at Vic’s head.

  “You’ve been planning this a long time,” Del said casually.

  “Three years, since the day I buried my sister.” He gestured with the barrel of the gun. “She mentioned the tattoo, once. Vic. Took me two years and four private investigators to trace your background and connect you to Victoria.” He grinned. “The first time I saw Noelle, I knew she was your kid. It was more than the hair and the eyes that convinced me. She’s a pain in the ass, just like you are. A real little firecracker.”

  “You leave her out of this.”

  Parvin shook his head. “No can do. In a couple of years I’ll marry her off to my little brother, Ricky, I’ll become the solid, dependable father figure and we’ll be one, big, happy family.”

  “What makes you think she’ll have anything to do with you or your brother?” Del asked in a reasonably calm voice. “If I remember correctly, Ricky has a bigger drug problem than Celeste did. I can’t see women exactly breaking down his door with marriage in mind.”

  Parvin was not dissuaded. “If you drug a woman well enough, she’ll do anything you tell her to. Anything at all.”

  “Stay away from my daughter,” Del said darkly.

  “You’re in no position to issue orders,” Parvin said smugly.

  He couldn’t rush Parvin, not with the gun pointed at Vic’s head. The two cops outside were unconscious, or soon would be. Help was not on the way, not tonight.

  “You haven’t thought this through,” Del said. “You gave the cops cold drinks that have been drugged. You think they won’t remember that?”

  “I told them my good friend Preston Lowell asked me to drop those off, and to be on the lookout since Lowell would be along shortly. Since I had Preston hand me those bottles yesterday, his fingerprints are on them. With all the other evidence against him...” Parvin shrugged. “It’ll do.”

  “All because I did my job.” Del shook his head. “I’m sorry Celeste is dead. She was a good kid. Messed up, yeah, but with a little help she should have been fine. You...” Del pointed at Parvin. “You should be sorry you dragged her into a world she wasn’t prepared for.”

  “I could have taken care of her if you hadn’t sent her to jail.”

  “You had your chance to take care of her, a
nd you blew it,” Del accused. “You introduced her to drug dealers who got her hooked and used her and made her run their dirty errands. Jail had to be an improvement over the life you provided for your little sister.”

  Parvin grinned. “I know what you’re trying to do, Wilder. Make me mad enough and I’ll lose my cool, maybe make a move before Preston gets here. That would give you a chance to play the hero.” He moved the muzzle of his weapon down to Vic’s throat, pressed it against the soft flesh there. “I’m not playing.”

  Vic’s eyes met his. She hadn’t said a word, was frozen to the spot in terror. And there was nothing he could do. Not yet.

  “I wanted this one, just for fun,” Parvin continued, raking the muzzle down the side of Vic’s neck. “I thought it would be amusing to seduce the mother of your child. I had such great plans for her.” He tsked. “But she’d have none of me, cold bitch that she is. Of course, the night is young.”

  “Touch her and I’ll kill you.”

  “Big talk for a man with no gun, no backup, and nowhere to go.”

  “I will kill you,” Del said again.

  “I don’t think so,” Parvin answered, unconcerned.

  “All this because I sent Celeste to jail?” Del was gradually losing what little cool he had left. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “You slept with her and then sent her to prison! You broke her heart. She didn’t care if she lived or died, so when she got sick she just wasted away.”

  “I did not sleep with your sister!” Del argued.

  Parvin shook his head. “Then how did she know about the tattoo?”

  It took him a moment, but he finally remembered. “I got caught in the rain one night,” Del said. “I changed my shirt in that bar where she hung out. That must’ve been when she saw it.”

  Parvin was not satisfied. “Then why did she love you?” he shouted.

  “I don’t know,” Del said softly. “I had no idea.” Vic licked her lips, her hands trembled. Del tried to tell her, with a meeting of their eyes and a gentle nod of his head, that everything would be fine. He didn’t know how, but somehow he had to make everything all right.

  “After Celeste went to jail and I found out you were responsible, I told her I would kill you for what you’d done. She begged me not to.” Parvin shook his head in wonder.

  Del wanted to charge forward, but Parvin held the gun pointed at Vic. He had to do something, and soon.

  “Gunshots will wake Noelle,” he said. “Do you really think she’ll have anything to do with you after this? She’s gonna know what you did. Drugs or no drugs, she’ll never accept you as a father figure.”

  “That’s why we’re waiting for Preston,” Parvin explained. “It’s going to happen very fast. Three gunshots, a matter of seconds. By the time Noelle gets down here, it’ll be over. I’ll be forced to shoot Preston and save Noelle, of course.” He smiled again. “Every girl loves a hero.”

  Del’s heart hammered. There was no reasoning with a man like Parvin. He wasn’t going to talk his way out of this one.

  “Don’t point that at Vic,” he said, unable to help himself.

  Parvin grinned. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” He touched the muzzle of his weapon to Vic’s hair, lifting a honey-colored curl and twirling it around the barrel.

  Hell, yes, it hurt.

  The doorbell rang.

  Noelle tried to cover her head with the pillow. The doorbell, again! What were the lovebirds doing down there, having a party?

  A voice she knew drifted to her room, through the closed door and to her sharp ears. Her dad’s voice had a way of carrying, like a little dog’s yap.

  She sat up. For years, she’d hoped that her parents would get back together. Maybe then her father would be happy enough to smile now and then, her mother would have something to do besides be psycho super-mom, and she could be normal.

  That wasn’t going to happen, she knew that now. But wouldn’t it be fun to watch Wilder sweat?

  Her wicked smile faded. Wilder had tried today, hadn’t he? Okay, maybe he tried too hard, but that was better than not trying at all. Softball coach, help with her homework, meeting all her friends!

  That was all gross, but how cool would it be when everyone found out that her real father had a tattoo and an earring? She called Wilder a dweeb now and then, but he was really kind of cool for a middle-aged guy.

  Noelle left the bed quietly. Her pajamas were perfectly decent, even if someone besides the lovebirds and her dad were down there. They were baggy and black, some kind of fake silk stuff. The pants were a little bit too long, and so were the sleeves.

  She slipped down the stairs, listening to voices in the living room.

  “What the hell are you doing?” her dad… the man she had always thought was her dad… asked.

  She knew the voice that answered, had met the man a few times. A friend of Grandpa’s, Ryan something. He’d dated her mom a couple of times. “Don’t be an idiot, Preston.”

  Noelle went still on the stairs.

  Wilder spoke up. “There’s no reason not to let Vic and Noelle go. Let them walk out of here right now and we can settle this between us.”

  “You should let me go, too,” her dad said frantically. “I don’t have anything to do with this, whatever it is.”

  “Shut up, Preston,” Wilder said sharply. “Let me get the kid out of here,” he said, his voice a strange, forced calm. “You don’t want her to wake up and find you here. Let Vic and Noelle...”

  “No!” Ryan answered. “You idiot, killing you is not going to be enough. If it was, I could have done away with you months ago, I could have stepped up to you as you were going home one night and put a bullet through your skull. The woman and the kid, they’re part of your payback.” There was a moment of strained silence. “You know, I thought the original plan was clever. I figured Victoria would tell you, before the bomb went off, that you had a child you would never see. With you two dead, I’d pin the thing on Lowell and proceed with my plan. But this is so much better. You get to know how and why before you die. Makes me almost happy that those two morons screwed up and let you escape.”

  “I’m begging you,” Wilder said in a low voice that cut to the bone. “Let Vic and Noelle go. This doesn’t have anything to do with them. It’s just you and me, Parvin. I’ll do anything.”

  “I told you,” her dad… Preston Lowell said again. “I’m not a part of this. Let me go and I swear I won’t tell anyone...”

  “Sit down and shut up!” Ryan ordered.

  Noelle lowered herself to the steps, her knees shaking. For the first time, it occurred to her that it wasn’t her fault the man she’d thought was her dad didn’t love her. Her friend Melanie was adopted and her dad was great! Her own dad was just a selfish jerk. She was glad he wasn’t her real father. He would never beg for anyone but himself.

  Sitting here wasn’t going to help matters any. She very quietly climbed the stairs, crept into her mother’s room and went to the phone. If she dialed 911 and the police came with lights and sirens, would Ryan what’s-his-name… Parvin. Wilder had called him Parvin... would he panic and shoot everyone? She scrolled through the caller ID until she came to the Birmingham cell phone number, then punched the numbers into the phone.

  A comforting voice answered the phone.

  “Shock?” she whispered.

  Vic watched as the man she’d known as Ryan Parrish for the past year swung the weapon away from her head and took aim at Del. She could see the relief wash over Del’s face as the danger switched to him. She knew what he was thinking, could read his intentions too well. He was going to rush Parvin, try to wrest the gun away, and he was going to get himself shot in the process.

  “Hello?” a sleepy voice called from the stairwell. “What are y’all doing down here? I’m trying to sleep.”

  Parvin moved close to Vic and pointed the gun at her ribs. From this angle, Noelle wouldn’t be able to see the weapon. “Get rid of her,” he whispered. “Send h
er back to bed.” He glanced at Del. “Make a move and I’ll shoot them both.” He didn’t have to worry about Preston, who was obediently sitting on the sofa, his spine straight and his face paper white.

  Noelle came into the room yawning, her baggy pajamas making her look younger than fifteen, her strangely red hair sticking out at all angles.

  “What is this, a party?” She blinked and looked at all three men. “Mother,” she said coolly. “One date at a time. Even I know that.”

  “This is just business, sweetheart,” Vic said. “You get back to bed. It’s been a long day.” She didn’t want Parvin to get his hands on Noelle, ever. Right now she had to trust that Del would get them out of this somehow, that Parvin would never have a chance to get close to their daughter.

  “I had a bad dream,” Noelle said, heading for Del, her feet shuffling, the hem of her pajama bottoms dragging across the carpet. “I had a dream that Wilder didn’t show up.” Her lower lip trembled, just a little. “And that psycho bitch shot everybody. I hate having bad dreams.”

  ‘‘Me, too, baby,” Del said as Noelle walked into his arms.

  Noelle wrapped her arms around Del’s waist and buried her head against his chest. Del placed one big hand against unnatural red hair, the other at Noelle’s back.

  Preston stood. “I’ll walk you up to bed, Noelle,” he said, apparently seeing a chance for escape. “Come along.”

  “Sit down, Preston,” Parvin said firmly.

  Preston complied quickly.

  Vic stared at the way Noelle held on to Del, her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest, her eyes closed. When had Noelle become so sentimental? So emotional? She really must have had a bad dream.

  Then again, Noelle and Del were so much alike, they would probably become close very quickly. If they got the chance.

  “Very touching,” Parvin whispered in her ear. “Get rid of the kid now or I’ll shoot them both where they stand.” The muzzle of the gun pressed more insistently against a rib.

  “Noelle,” Vic said sharply. “We really do have business to discuss. You run on up to bed.”