Dangerous Flirt

by Avery Flynn

  Beth couldn't look away from the gun's barrel as cold fear snaked around her spine. “But I never did anything to you.”

  “Yes, you did. You wouldn't sell. You took the spotlight from Phil at work. You fucked-up everything.” She hurled the words like projectiles. “The plan came to me after I'd found Phil. He let slip that Ed had inside information that the casino would be built on the north end of the Lakota Reservation, near Lake Alice. He'd put up every cent he had to buy the land. I couldn't let him succeed. This was my chance.” She paused as if relishing the moment all over again.

  “I worked out a very lucrative deal with the Lakota tribe to relocate their new casino off Highway 28 instead. I had every piece of property leading to the reservation tied up. Every one but yours. I had to have yours! I couldn't allow the chance of him even getting one piece!” Her voice had risen to a manic scream. “I wanted him to lose everything. His money. His standing in Dry Creek. I'd make him understand, really understand, what it was like to have an entire community look down on you as ruined goods!”

  Off in the distance, the high-pitched blare of police sirens sounded. Just a little longer and help would arrive. Sneaking a peak at Hank's leg, Beth’s stomach sank. The splotch of blood soaking through his jeans had grown to encompass his lower thigh, turning his jeans nearly black. His face had paled and his eyelids were nearly closed.

  Unaware or unconcerned about Hank's precarious situation, Sarah Jane continued her demented monologue. “I hired those idiots to drug you and kill you. Really, how difficult should it have been? But you managed to survive. And then you got Phil killed. That thug killed him to get to you. Do you know what it's like to lose a son not once, but twice? Do you know what that does to a mother?”

  Something inside Beth snapped. “No, I don't—but neither do you. Being a mother isn't about giving birth, it's about caring for someone more than you care about yourself. It's sacrifice. It's love. You're not a mother. You're a monster.”

  Sarah Jane cocked her head thoughtfully and lowered the gun to her side. “I suppose you're right. I can admit that. But don't you see, Ed Webster is the one who made me into this…monster. He will be punished.” She took a step forward. “And so will you.”

  Beth's stomach twisted and bile rose in her throat. It couldn't end this way, not now. “Please.”

  “Shut up, girl. First you'll die, and then, after I've ruined him, so will Ed.”

  Frozen to her spot by indecision, Beth tried to think of an escape as the sirens grew louder. Almost here.

  “Fine, if not you then your dear love.” Sarah Jane swung the gun toward Hank's slumped figure. “On your knees, or I kill him first.”

  “No!” She scrambled to her knees, blocking Sarah Jane's shot with her body.

  “Ah, the stupid sacrifices we women make for the men we love. Too bad you won't live long enough to learn that they're all out for themselves. Then again, at least you don't have to worry about him leaving you for a newer model.”

  Flashing red lights lit up the pine trees as patrol cars screeched to a stop on the highway above them.

  Doors slammed shut and a deputy shouted clipped orders to the others. The Calvary had arrived, too late for her but hopefully in time for Hank.

  Closing her eyes, Beth began to murmur the words she'd heard every day at four p.m. from her abuelita. Her grandmother had dutifully rubbed the worn, dark-blue rosary beads between her arthritic fingers and prayed for the souls of Beth's parents and the unknown drunk driver who'd killed them.

  As her dry lips formed the words, a presence warmed the crisp air and she heard abuelita's voice murmur in her ear.

  “Hail Mary, full of grace…”

  A gunshot silenced her prayer.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hank ignored the explosive pain throbbing in his knee and fought to remain conscious. His injury wasn't important. Only keeping Beth safe mattered.

  Sarah Jane lowered her gun until the angle of the bullet would hit Beth between the eyes. A shot of adrenaline careened through his veins, slammed into his heart and shocked him into full alertness.

  Gathering every last bit of energy, he launched himself at Beth.

  He wrapped his arms around her kneeling form and flattened her to the ground, morphing himself into a protective shield around her.

  A millisecond later a gun fired. His muscles tensed in preparation for impact as everything slowed to a near stop.

  A slideshow rolled through his mind. Not of his big accomplishments but of the little things that made life special and whole. The first time he went fishing with his father. His mom's baked macaroni served with a side of lovingly administered nagging. Tossing the football around with his brothers in the empty University of Nebraska football stadium. Teaching Claire to ride a bike.

  And when it came to Beth, there were so many memories and, at the same time, not enough. Inhaling, he took in one last whiff of her vanilla perfume that he wished he could enjoy forever. Even if they’d had twelve lifetimes together, it wouldn't have been enough.

  It wasn't the children he'd never had that he regretted now. No. In his final moments, Hank mourned the time he could have had with Beth.

  But instead of the expected burning lead tearing into his flesh, there was a quiet “umph” and the thump of a body hitting the ground.

  Hank looked over his shoulder and the world wobbled as he let go of the air trapped in his lungs.

  Sarah Jane lay on her back, her chest jerking up and down in a spastic rhythm. Blood bloomed like a morbid flower on her chest, expanding with each wet, gasping gurgle of breath.

  He didn't know which deputy had made the shot, but whoever he or she was, they were about to get a promotion.

  Rolling off of Beth, he landed with a thunk on his back. The agony in his leg punched through his adrenaline high.

  “Oh my God, Hank!” Beth yanked off her fleece jacket, balled it up and pressed it to his wound.

  The pressure made him gasp, but he'd be damned before he'd pass out now. Going for an action-hero vibe, he smirked. “I'll live.”

  “Is she…” Beth left the word “dead” unsaid, but it hung in the air between them like a sticky spiderweb.

  “Not yet.” He paused and listened to Sarah Jane's struggle to breathe. “But it doesn't sound good.”

  The scene in front of Sarah Jane wavered, darkness creeping in on the edges as she fought to stay alive.

  So close. She'd been so close to rubbing his face in disgrace and forcing him to confront the wrong he'd committed against her, against them. Her baby Phil. He hadn't grown into the man she would have raised. Yet another sin committed by his father.

  A cold numbness seeped into her, shielding her from the pain as blood loss overwhelmed her body's ability to function. The stars, brilliant against the cloudless fall sky, twinkled above her. With all she'd done, she wouldn't be going in that direction. Her soul would sink into the ground, heating as she fell deeper and deeper into the hell below.

  Salvation was for the living, and in her heart, she'd stopped living that night twenty-eight years ago. The truth crystallized in her mind, shattering her anger. Stunted with hurt and resentment, she'd surrendered to the black void without ever realizing it.

  “I did what I had to do.” Pain slurred her quiet words.

  In an instant, Beth appeared above her and kicked the gun from her hand, not that there was any need. Sarah Jane barely had the strength to form words, let alone curl her fingers around the trigger.

  Beth's heart-shaped face hovered in the center of her ever-darkening field of vision.

  Then, the light disappeared.

  There were no angels. No sweet face of God.

  Eternity spread out in every direction like a heavy quilt smothering her on a hot summer night.

  Deputies swarmed around Beth as she tried to process what had just happened.

  Her grandparents’ house.

  The threats.

  The vandalism.

 
The goons in Vegas.

  Phil dying in front of her eyes.

  Hank being shot.

  All of it because of Sarah Jane's hunger for revenge.

  Unable to make sense of the truth, she wrapped herself in an icy detachment and distanced herself from the death and misery surrounding her. Lost in a wispy cloud of numbness, she continued to kneel by Sarah Jane's body. A breeze teased her hair, lifting the ends until the strands tickled her cheeks.

  “Excuse me, ma'am, the paramedics want to check you out.” A deputy loomed over her, holding out a hand.

  Startled out of her daze, Beth shook off her protective mental gauze and emerged back into reality. She grasped the deputy's wide hand and pulled herself up, taking stock of the chaos.

  Paramedics toting heavy duffel bags swarmed Hank and cut away the bloody mess of his jeans. Even from ten feet away, his knee looked like a mangled mess of shredded muscle, shattered bone and blood. Fighting back the worry-induced nausea, she brushed past the deputy and rushed over.

  “Will he be okay?” She squatted down next to him.

  The paramedic stayed focused on Hank's injury. “Looks like the bullet missed any major arteries.” He zipped up his duffel and stood. “Be right back with the stretcher.”

  He loped through the trees and toward the highway at an easy, steady pace.

  “Thank God you're alright.” If she hadn't already been kneeling, relief would have knocked her to the ground. She sent up a quick prayer for Hank, for her, for everything.

  “It takes more than a crazy lady to take me out.” Hank's large hand engulfed hers. “You have to remember the women in my family. I've had advanced training.”

  Humoring him more than anything else, she smiled at his joke. But the truth was they both would have died if his deputies hadn't arrived in time.

  Her entire life she'd tried to encase herself in a protective bubble with the same single-minded conviction Sarah Jane had depended on for her plans of revenge. In the end, it had blown up in both their faces and she'd almost lost the only man she'd ever loved.

  Lowering her face, she brushed her lips across his in a brief kiss of hope, of new beginnings.

  “It's all over, Beth,” he murmured. “Everything will go back to normal.”

  “But I don't want that. I want more.” Certainty struck her like a lightning bolt. “There are so many things I've missed out on and left undone. All because I was scared.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Of what?”

  “I was scared of putting myself out there, losing someone or something else. I went into estate law because it was low pressure. I loved the mental chess of being a trial attorney, but the risks were so high…”

  Chest tight and throat raw, she stopped to swallow back the tears threatening to overflow onto her cheeks. Her abuelita had warned her all those years ago, but she hadn't understood. She'd been a scared eight-year-old with a broken spirit hiding in her bedroom. The bed had creaked in protest when her grandmother had sat down. She'd wrapped Beth inside her warm embrace and kissed the top of her head. “God doesn't give you your family,” she'd whispered, “he gives you the strength and courage to make your own.”

  For so long, she'd walked the wrong path, but not anymore.

  “I thought by regulating everything in my life, I was keeping myself safe, insulating myself. I never let go.” An unsure smile turned her lips upward. “Not until you.”

  Hank contemplated her, saying nothing after her declaration. As the silence grew, a nervous energy fizzed along her skin and jumbled her stomach. Then a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. All of the tension whooshed out.

  “I love you, Beth Martinez. When we get out of here, there's an Elvis impersonator I'm taking you to meet.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” she laughed. “But I love you too. Always have. Always will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Beth's nose twitched and the impending sneeze built until she couldn't hold it back any longer. The release sent a small cloud of dust up from the bookshelf where she'd plucked her parents’ wedding photo. Pivoting, she turned back toward the cardboard box on her walnut desk and dropped it in with the rest of her knickknacks.

  “Bless you.” Ed Webster stood in the doorway of her office at Webster and Carter.

  In the three months since she'd last set foot in the law firm, he'd lost weight. His cheekbones stood out in gaunt relief from the rest of his face and dark circles had taken up permanent residence under his eyes.

  “I haven't hired a new cleaning person since the last one quit. Sarah Jane would have taken care of it, and now…” He let his words die off and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Tempted as she was to tell him to go to hell, she'd known when Hank dropped her off this morning that her former mentor wouldn't let her leave today without the talk.

  “Come on in, Ed.”

  Like a stray dog thankful for any scrap of affection, his face lit up and he hurried to an empty chair. “So, I can't change your mind?”

  “I needed a change.” Switching over to family advocacy law had been huge challenge, but she loved her new life. She'd never been happier.

  “Yeah, I've gotten that from a lot of folks ever since…well, ever since it came out.”

  That was small-town justice for you. Word had spread like wildfire and censure swept in behind, turning his bumper crop of a life into a fallow field. “I heard about the divorce. Sorry.”

  He shrugged, his once beefy frame shrunken to skeletal proportions. “To be expected, I guess. She'd always suspected there were others, but public confirmation was too much. This practice is all I have left and the bank is breathing down my neck, wanting the balloon payment for the loan I took to finance the land purchases, so I probably won't have it for much longer.”

  Beth could only imagine what it had been like for him. She'd lived under a microscope. Conversations had slammed to a stop whenever she'd rolled her cart into a new aisle at the grocery store, picked out Christmas presents at the mall or walked into the New Year’s Eve party at the country club. Dry Creek's gossips had rolled the situation around and examined it from every angle. No one had escaped scrutiny—including Ed's and Sarah Jane's son, Phil.

  “You know it's not true. Not that I can stop the talk. Not that anyone would believe me.”

  He had to be kidding. “Don't bother. Sarah Jane told me everything. You may not deserve all the hell you're getting, but you're not the injured party here.”

  “I was a different man then, drank too much and hurt people without a second thought. I was an asshole, probably still am, but nothing like that. When Sarah Jane lost the baby—”

  “Lost the baby?” She reined in the urge to slap him. “You make it sound like Phil wandered off from the hospital. The newspaper got ahold of the police reports. They found her diaries, almost thirty years’ worth of written misery. She gave the baby up for adoption in a pathetic attempt to hold on to you.”

  “I haven't read the paper in months. Shit, is that really what she wrote? I knew she’d been confused, but I hadn't realized she'd totally lost touch with reality.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Phil isn't our son.”

  Before her eyes, Ed deflated. His face changed from haggard to haunted. His hands shook as he stared off into the distance.

  “Right before I broke up with her, we went to Denver for the weekend for a client meeting. She was six months pregnant, but no one knew. She'd worked so hard at hiding it under bulky clothes. I was panicking, worried my wife would find out. I'd tried to convince her to give the baby up, but she wouldn't.”

  His voice trembled and he blinked several times before continuing.

  “The cramps started at the hotel. She'd taken a bath, hoping they'd go away. I'd gone down to the hotel bar to mellow out with a couple of bourbons. When I got back to the room two hours later, she was still in the tub. The blood…it was everywhere. They saved her, but the baby didn't make it.�
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  He didn't bother to wipe away the tears spilling onto his cheeks. “The whole time, I'd been wishing that baby would disappear. You'd think I would have been thrilled. A nurse came and took me to say goodbye in the morgue. They'd cleaned him up, wiped away the blood and wrapped him in a blue-and-white striped blanket. Hell, he was so tiny, shorter than my forearm, with these little fingers that should have curled around mine.”

  Beth sank down in her chair and Ed wept in front of her, silently.

  “I knew she didn't believe me or the hospital folks when she woke up without a baby. Nothing we said could convince her. They'd already cremated the baby. It was like he'd never existed.” Ed's voice broke and he gulped in air like a condemned man. “And damn my soul to hell, that's how I acted. Like it had never happened. Any time she brought it up I ignored her, until finally she made herself believe she'd given up the baby. I figured if it made my life easier for her to say that, then fine, I'd play along. But I never realized she really believed it.”

  Nausea rolled over Beth in waves as she gripped the arms of her desk chair, willing her stomach to relax. She wanted to scream “liar” at him, make him take it all back.

  But his story answered one of the largest doubts about Sarah Jane. Finding her long-lost son in the office where she worked seemed a little too convenient. And how had she known it was Phil? Nearly thirty years ago, adoption cases were considered closed. Even if both the child and the birth parent wanted to find each other, the hurdles were extraordinary.

  The chance of Sarah Jane finding her son was astronomical. Her diaries had never detailed how she'd discovered what she believed to be the truth. Instead, she’d written about the curl of Phil's smile and the way he talked with his hands, so much like his father that she just knew it was him.