He’d seen her.
She dove for Shayla’s car. Phone. There’d be a phone—
Jerking on the handle, she shot one look back.
“Fuck the phone,” she whispered. He was there, on the edge of the tree line and bearing down on her far faster than she could hope to move. Diving into the car, she fumbled the keys.
Darkness hid too much of him and she was too afraid to look at him as she threw the car into drive and punched the gas.
Shayla’s sleek, sexy little Mustang convertible took off and she blasted by him just as he made a lunge for the car.
“Thank God.” Hannah sucked in a gulp of air. “Thank God.”
She started to shake but she fought the tremors back. She could go into shock later. Much later.
Darting a look down into the seat, she saw Shayla’s phone. “Oh, thank God.” She breathed out a sigh of relief and grabbed the phone. Chancing one look behind her, she whipped the wheel to the right.
She shot another look at the parking lot. It was empty, the brightly lit concrete square empty from the road to the river.
Daring to breathe out a tiny sigh of relief, she hit the screen. It was locked, but she had a similar model. Emergency calls.
Saying a prayer, Hannah dialied 9-1-1.
When it started to ring, she almost began to cry.
“I need…” She gulped in. “This is Hannah Parker. I need to report a murder. Shayla—”
Somebody stumbled into the road and she jerked the wheel.
As she screamed, the call-taker calmly said, “Ma’am, please slow down…”
Too late.
The car hit the tree with a thunderous crash.
* * *
“I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
Neve glared balefully at her sister over a half-eaten slice of pizza. “I’m most definitely an idiot.”
Moira swallowed the bite she’d just taken and then asked, “So are you ready to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I just did.” Dumping the slice on the plate, Neve put her food down and settled more comfortably into the couch. A movie played on the giant screen on the wall in front of them but she couldn’t say what had happened. She was too busy brooding.
“Okay, not that I think you’re an idiot, but how about you tell me what’s up and then we discuss your idiot status.”
“It’s Ian…” Her voice tripped and then to her disgust, she started to cry.
“Hey, hey…”
Moira settled down next to her and she found herself wrapped in her sister’s arms. It took forever and no time at all. When the storm ended, Moira murmured into her hair, “I think that was long overdue, sis.”
Neve sniffled.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going?”
“I’m an idiot.”
“So you’ve said. But how about some details?”
Details? Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her face against Moira’s shoulder. Then, slowly, she started to talk.
Moira listened without saying anything, but once she finished, Moira brushed her hair back. “So, first thing … you’re not an idiot. You went through hell and you panicked. Second thing, Ian’s a great guy—and he’s not an idiot. Chances are, he already knows all of this.”
“I was stupid,” Neve said, folding her arms across her belly and resting her head on the thickly padded back of the couch.
“Oh, stop. You’re not an idiot.” Moira turned to face her, crossing her legs. Clad in a cami and pajama bottoms, she still managed to look regal, like a queen. “You know what happened, I bet.”
“I panicked.” Swallowing, Neve looked away.
She’d freaked out over nothing.
Okay. Maybe it hadn’t been nothing.
But she’d hurt Ian—she knew she had and for no good reason.
William had taken her over and she knew it. Looking back now, she could even see how clearly, how easily he’d manipulated her.
Ian, though, wasn’t taking her over. He was filling her up. Filling up all those hollow and empty spaces and it felt wonderful.
She’d spent most of the day brooding over it and she needed to just call him. Or go see him.
She went to brush the idea aside.
“He works Fridays. He’ll be there until two or three in the morning, I bet,” Moira said.
For a moment, she just stared at her sister. No. She couldn’t just up and go out there. It was already past ten.
But then …
She closed her eyes and saw his face in her mind.
Spinning away, she said, “I have to change.”
* * *
Feeling a little lighter, Neve rushed through a shower and dressed in some of the new clothes she’d picked up a few days ago. Skinny skirt, a blue silk top with a draping neckline, heels.
She didn’t let herself primp because she was already nervous. Besides, she looked good. One thing she knew how to do was turn herself out. Clothes were armor and she’d always armed herself well.
“Well, damn.”
Coming up short in the doorway of the kitchen, Neve stared at Moira.
“What?” She shifted from one foot to the other.
“You look gorgeous.” Moira held an unopened bottle of wine and a corkscrew. “So. Go get him.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Neve said, moving to lean against the counter next to Moira.
“Oh, honey.” Moira put down the wine bottle and hugged her sister. She gave her a quick hug and went back to opening the bottle. As she poured a glass, she continued to speak. “Look, this isn’t the end of the world. You had a fight—they happen. Now you just have to talk to him.”
Restless, Neve started to pace. “I don’t … Moira, I don’t know how to do relationships.”
“Well, I’m with you there.” Making a face, Moira lifted her wine and took a sip. “I’m not exactly a pro at them, as you well know. But I think the key here is just … let it happen.”
“Let what happen?” Neve twisted her fingers together. “I … Moira, I feel crazy things for him and I barely know him.”
“There’s plenty of time for that. But Neve, sweetie, if you two could see the way you look together, the way you look at each other … you fit. I’ve never seen anybody fit together the way you two do.” A faint smile curved her lips, sad and sweet. “Except maybe Mom and Dad.”
“You and Gideon fit.”
Moira closed her eyes. Then she took another drink of wine—a huge drink—tossing it back like it was whiskey. “We were young,” she said softly. “We were very young and life was too complicated.”
“It’s always complicated.” Neve almost let it go at that. “And you’re not young now. And he still loves you.”
Moira’s response was the last thing Neve expected to hear. “I know.” With a small shrug, Moira turned away.
“You know,” Neve said slowly. “You still love him.” This time, Moira said nothing, but Neve didn’t let that deter her. “You know he still loves you and you still love him. What are you waiting for?”
“I hurt him,” Moira said. “I did what was necessary—”
“It wasn’t necessary but screw that. Forget about that. It’s done. Worry about now.” Worry about now … Neve drew in a breath. “And that’s what I need to do.”
“Sounds like good advice.” Moira brooded into her wine. “So get out of here.”
Neve moved to her sister and grabbed her in a tight hug as giddiness welled inside her.
“Hey,” Moira said, laughing. “You’re going to make me spill wine all over you.”
“I’m going to stop this,” she said, pulling back and staring at her sister. “I’m going to stop worrying about everything—sometimes I still feel like I’m trapped but it’s my own fear doing it now, not William. I’m stopping this.”
“Good.”
Yeah … A smile bloomed across her face, a weight falling away. Yeah, it was good.
So William was l
urking around somewhere. Maybe he was in town and maybe he wasn’t, but she wasn’t going to let him ruin any more of her life. She wasn’t going to stay caged by fear and she wasn’t going to let him control every action she did, even if it was just through the memories.
“I’m going to see Ian. I’m fixing this,” she said. “And you should call Gideon.”
“No, I…”
Narrowing her eyes, Neve grabbed Moira’s phone from where she’d dropped it on the counter. As Moira tried to grab it, Neve backed away, pulling up Gideon’s number. There was a picture of him, and Neve’s heart twisted looking at it. “You still love him,” she said. She dialed the number as Moira made another swipe for the phone. When Gideon came on the line, she said, “Moira needs to tell you something.”
She didn’t wait for his response, just passed the phone over. Tell him, she mouthed. Then she headed toward the door.
Moira sagged against the counter. “Gideon…”
She shot a look back over her shoulder, grinning at her sister as she went to open the door. “Hello, pet.”
* * *
Oh, how he’d waited for this.
Neve stood in the doorway, staring at him as though she’d seen a ghost.
William relished every second of it, from the way her pupils dilated to the way her breathing began to race.
“Did you miss me, love?”
She clutched at the doorknob and he saw her muscles tighten. Throwing up a hand, he stopped her from slamming the door. Shoving his way inside, he reached out.
Neve backed away.
“Oh, don’t do that,” he said silkily. “I’m already cross with you.”
“Get out.” The words were steady and delivered in a steely voice.
“Come, Neve. We’ve so much to talk about.”
“No.”
Tensing, he turned his head and watched the other woman move into his line of sight. “You don’t have anything to talk about.”
The other woman was slim and slight, her features startling in their similarity to Neve’s. She had a few lines around her eyes, though, and her voice was frosty.
“You must be Moira,” he said.
“And you … I don’t think I need an introduction.” The smile Moira gave him was positively savage, like blood-drenched ice. “Now get the hell out of my house.”
William studied her for a moment. That contemptuous look on her face made him want to strike it from her lovely face. But she wasn’t who he’d come for. “I will. Now that I’ve got what I came for.”
“If you think I’m leaving with you, you’re out of your ever-loving mind.”
He cut a look toward Neve. A ripple of surprise swept through him when she didn’t back down.
No, she lifted her chin. Her mouth trembled and he could see the mad flutter of her pulse in her neck.
“Enough,” he said.
“Are you crazy?” She backed away, stopping when she came up against the large island that dominated the brightly lit kitchen. “I’ll come with you when hell freezes over.”
“Darling.” He sighed and smoothed a hand down his shirtfront. He really hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but what was he to do? “You’ll come now.”
“Get out.” Moira stepped in front of her sister and it was a comical sight. Neve was the taller of the two, her slender, elegant frame towering over the shorter woman, but Moira’s protectiveness was undeniable.
Family was such a nuisance.
Although it could come in handy. “Neve,” he said softly. “If you don’t come with me now, it won’t go well for you. Either of you.”
* * *
“We’re going in quiet,” Gideon barked into his radio. “If I see a single light flashing or hear a fucking siren, I’m going to personally skin the son of a bitch responsible.”
“Got it, Chief.”
A moment later, another voice came over the radio. “Gideon, we’ll get there. Just remember, this is my jurisdiction,” Sheriff Tank Granger said, his voice firm. “I’m not letting some son of a bitch skate by on a technicality.”
If Gideon accidentally killed the fucker, technicalities wouldn’t be an issue.
He was there.
Gideon had been quietly searching for the man who’d laid his hands on Neve ever since she’d come home. But it had been a fruitless search and he had started calling any motel, hotel, or inn within an hour’s drive. He hadn’t seen William Clyde as the type to rough it.
He’d struck pay dirt—too late—when he’d run into Karen White, owner of Bygone Treasures, one of the few bed-and-breakfasts in town.
Too late. Too little, too late.
If Clyde hurt either of his ladies, there wouldn’t be a hole dark enough or deep enough for him to hide in.
The miles sped by, his cruiser eating up the distance between the town and Ferry at a speed that would have made Brannon’s driving look sedate. Dust flew up behind him as he whipped the car to the right at the intersection, finally on the road that led to McKay’s Ferry—and his heart.
He’d get there.
Nothing would happen
Next to him, his phone remained on mute, playing out what was happening with Gideon a silent, helpless witness.
Neve’s voice came through it, shaking, but strong. “Get out of my house, William.”
There was a sharp cry in the next moment and Gideon tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
* * *
Ian climbed off his bike, staring up at the big house with trepidation. The nasty words painted on the fuel tank had been covered with a coat of primer, but he he hadn’t decided on how he wanted the bike to look yet, so he was stuck with the dull gray. The whole ride out here, he’d wondered if he’d done the right thing, calling in his assistant manager to hold down the fort at the pub so he could come see Neve.
He almost knocked, but he was worried if he did, Neve might not answer.
He’d just let himself in.
They almost always kept the door off the kitchen open and more often than not, the family came and went through that door. So he’d just do that, too.
He hadn’t managed to clear the corner of the sprawling home when he heard a roar coming up behind him.
Scowling, he turned his head.
His gut turned to shards of ice, deep and cutting, as he saw the line of police cars tearing up the drive toward him. Instinct screamed for him to take off, get inside that house and find Neve.
But he held still.
When Gideon came out of his car, all but exploding in a fury of motion and rage, Ian closed one hand into a fist.
Gideon saw him and beckoned him.
Ian looked back at the house and then shook his head, turning on his heel and taking off up the path that led to the house. He wouldn’t get in the way. He’d do his best to stay out of the way.
But Neve was in there. Fuck them if they thought he’d just sit idly on by without knowing that she was safe.
The darkness, nearly complete, had him moving at a snail’s pace up the cobbled pathway and he had to bite back a snarl of fury when hard hands grabbed him. He reacted out of habit, spinning to take the fucker down.
It didn’t happen that way. Gideon wasn’t quite as big as he was, but he was canny and quick, and the two of them had a brief tussle that ended with Ian being slammed against the wall.
“Stop,” Gideon said, his voice a growling whisper. “Clyde’s in there with Neve and Moira and if you get in my way, I’ll see your ass in jail.”
Mind-numbing panic and blood-boiling fury, they both blistered inside Ian, rising up in a storm that had him ready to explode. “I’ll stay back.” Abruptly, he shifted his weight and twisted, managed to break away from Gideon. Officers fanned out around him. He’d fight his way through every last one of them. But they might not have time. “I’ll stay back. But I’m going up there.”
* * *
Neve bit back a scream as Moira crumpled to the floor.
William had blood on his face a
nd a fury unlike anything she’d ever witnessed lit his eyes.
He went to kick Moira as she rolled to her knees.
Neve leaped on him and her weight sent him staggering forward. “You bastard.” Fear was an ugly red rose in her belly, but fury smashed it, choking it and strangling until it started to die. He’d hit her sister.
Fisting a hand in his hair, she jerked.
He’d hurt Moira.
His hands caught her hair and he yanked, trying to throw her off him but she’d wrapped her legs around him.
He reared back, driving her spine into the counter and she cried out as pain tore through her.
Then there was more pain and she heard a sickening wet crack.
Blood roared in her ears as he threw her off and she fell to the ground, clutching her left hand.
“I’ll deal with you later,” William said frostily.
Then he turned to Moira.
Moira had staggered her way upright, clutching at her side, and she stared at William, eyes gone to ice.
William started toward her.
Neve tried to fumble her way up, scrabbling at the surface of the island. Her hand brushed against something and she looked down. Time slowed as she curled her hand around the corkscrew, the sharp spiral still jutting out.
“Some man you are,” Moira said, curling her lip. “You get your rocks off knocking women around?”
“I’ll get my rocks off, as you crudely put it, when I shut you up, you frigid little bitch.”
Neve slid off the island.
Her body didn’t feel like her own.
The hand clutching the corkscrew could have belonged to a stranger.
And her voice, soft and strangely flat, sounded nothing like her as she said, “William.”
He tossed her a dismissive look.
That look turned to shock as she swung up, burying the corkscrew in his neck.
He roared.
Neve jerked the utensil sideways as blood splashed out.
He gurgled.
And then, as she let go of the corkscrew, William Clyde slid to his knees, lifting a hand to his neck. Hot red blood spurted out.
The door crashed open.
Still feeling like she wasn’t even part of herself, she lifted her head and watched as uniformed officers swarmed the room.
They went to block her view, but she stepped around them, going to her knees just at the edge of the ever-widening pool of blood.
Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) Page 31