by Jean Oram
She would lie. She would tell him things weren’t working out.
But it wasn’t Zach.
She dropped the seat and bag, backing up so quickly she nearly tripped.
It was her cousin Jerry, the escaped convict. The man the family had jokingly nicknamed Bucket. And the reason for that was the only thing she could focus on.
He was here to end her, because he believed she was responsible for how he’d been thrown in jail, along with the rest of the family.
“Please,” Catherine said, her voice so weak and helpless sounding, even to her own ears, that it decimated her limited confidence. She bounced gently, trying to calm Xavier, who was still upset. “It wasn’t me.”
“I saw you talking to him,” Bucket said, jutting out his chin, his British accent clipped with displeasure.
“Who?”
Her cousin stepped closer, arm raised, ready to strike her.
“Please! The baby,” she begged, cowering and wishing she was stronger. She edged back, thinking if she could get to the umbrella stand she might manage to take a swing at Jerry with Zach’s baseball bat.
“Don’t play dumb,” he said. He flipped back his jacket to reveal a holster that kept a handgun nestled against his side.
“I moved out from home at age sixteen, and haven’t been back except for my mum’s funeral. You know that.” Xavier was kicking and wriggling, about to cause a big fuss again, and she feared how Bucket might react to the noise.
“Whitman was the manager. You two were close enough to have a baby. I know you helped him. I know you told him things nobody else could know.”
Simon. She’d told him so little, but she knew Bucket wouldn’t care. He’d pulled out his gun and clicked off the safety.
“You let in a rat. You are a rat.”
Catherine eased back another step. She had two choices. Grab for the bat, or keep backing down the hall and through the kitchen, where she might be able to turn and race out the rear door. Or loop around through the dining area, then the living room and out the front, not allowing herself to get trapped. The problem was she wasn’t going to be faster. Not carrying Xavier. She was going to have to be smarter.
“I told him nothing. I know nothing.”
“You told him everything,” Jerry growled.
“I didn’t. I swear!” Sometimes he’d ask her weird questions that puzzled her, but she’d never said anything that could have led to him putting her entire family behind bars. “I’ve spent my life trying to get away from you guys. My entire life!”
Bucket’s tone was suddenly calm, resolved. “Patty, you know too much.”
Catherine stumbled past the umbrella stand. She couldn’t swing the bat. Not hard enough. Not with Xavier strapped to her chest.
“Why would I want my family in jail?” With fear hammering in her chest she stepped forward, finger pointed his way in accusation. “Maybe it was you. Maybe you would benefit from everyone in jail.”
“With myself in the slammer? Don’t be daft.”
“You don’t look like you’re in jail at the moment, do you? Maybe this was all part of your big plan. You were always looking for ways to screw people over. Maybe you wanted everyone in jail so you could rule the gang.”
“Nobody leaves the family! The family comes first!” He was angry now, the butt of his gun smashing a hole in the wall as he swung his arm in the narrow hallway.
Xavier was crying, and Catherine hoped that this time their neighbor George would go straight to the police instead of calling Zach to complain about the noise.
“How did you find me?” she asked, trying to keep Jerry talking. “Social media? Facial recognition? Simon? Leo? Zach?” If she got out of here she needed to know how to be smarter next time.
“I followed a little bird.” He was stroking his gun in a way that made her very nervous.
Never trust anyone. Ever.
There was a knock at the front door, and in Bucket’s split second of hesitation, Catherine called out, “Come in!”
As the door swung open she realized that if it was George, she was doomed. In fact, anyone who would bother to knock wouldn’t be somebody who could help her, but someone she’d be bringing in to what could quickly become a deadly mess.
Jerry grabbed Catherine’s arm, squeezing so hard she knew she’d have bruises. A moment later she felt the unrelenting pressure of his gun pressed to her back.
“Hey,” Jill said smoothly, coming into the room after kicking off her large boots. “I brought that stuff back. Your final bill was only twenty bucks! I think he liked Ginger’s story about the bride who got stuck in her dress and so he gave us all an extra discount.” Jill had the box of sharpened knives and the cast-iron skillet in her arms, and she slowed as she caught sight of Jerry.
“This really isn’t a good time,” he said coldly.
“Oh, I can see that,” she said easily, picking up speed as she glided farther into the house, practically herding them on down the hall and into the sunny kitchen. “But I really must drop this off or I’ll forget. You know how it is.”
“I said—”
“Enough out of you,” Jill said, flashing him a look. Catherine silently tried to convey to Jill that she needed to leave. Now. And somehow take Xavier with her.
“You should check out your pan. It looks brand-new,” Jill said. She was right in front of her now, her eyes locked on Catherine’s.
Jill shook the box, and dutifully, Catherine reached into it, closing her eyes as she feared Jerry’s reaction. She retrieved the cast-iron skillet and the gun pressed harder. The newly sharpened knives were in the bottom, but she didn’t dare take one, knowing that it could easily be turned on her, injuring herself or the child strapped to her torso.
She held the pan. It was heavy. Impossible to wield with authority, especially with a gun pressed against her spine.
“Just like new,” Jill said calmly.
“It’s time for you to leave,” Jerry said.
Jill quickly reached into the box at the same time that she dropped it, her hands suddenly full of long blades. “Sweetie, I think we’re just getting started.”
Catherine felt as though she was going to faint. Her friend had brought knives into a gunfight.
The gun’s pressure left Catherine’s back as Jerry tightened his grip on her. Xavier was quiet while the world seemed to shift, and then a loud crack filled the room and plaster rained down over them as Jerry shot a hole in the ceiling. Catherine jumped, her heart pumping hard as her baby startled and let out a shriek.
Jerry was still behind her, but now the gun was aimed at Jill instead of Catherine. Jill held one of the knives by its blade, the handle extended toward the man. Her gaze was steady, as was her breathing. “Did I tell you my father owns the gun range in town, Catherine? I think I did. I used to compete as a sharpshooter. I’ll have to show you my trophy case one day. I also learned some knife fighting along the way. I’m deadly accurate.”
There was a fierceness in her friend’s unwavering gaze, and for a moment Catherine thought they might just find a way to come out of this alive.
14
When Zach saw where Catherine was going—taking the footpath back to town—he hopped into his Land Rover, not at all surprised when Logan took the passenger seat. And not just because his wife had taken his vehicle back to town already.
“You going to tell me everything?” Zach asked, his jaw so tight his words were barely understandable. If Logan was in the vehicle and not already digging up the requested info on Catherine’s background, it meant his friend knew more than he’d been sharing.
Logan grunted, then said, “After Simon Whitman faked his death, he had undercover agent Leo Barrellies, who had been acting as a bartender and friend to Catherine, contact her and tell her to go into hiding. Simon had prearranged pinch points that would push her here.”
“No,” Zach shook his head. “That doesn’t add up.” If it was true, then he had been played. He’d had to sign in
to that dating and marriage site and invite her here. He’d had to… Wait. All those things about their wooing that he didn’t recall… He’d assumed he’d had too many whiskeys to remember, but what if he hadn’t? What if it hadn’t been him chatting with her online?
He paused for a second before asking Logan, “What’s your involvement?”
“I was contacted shortly after she arrived, to keep an eye on things.”
“An eye on me?” If Zach hadn’t been driving he would have grabbed Logan by his collar and forced him to spill everything he knew about Catherine—his wife—and had been keeping from him, his best friend.
“On her situation.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
Logan drew in a long breath.
“Tell me the truth.” Logan hesitated and Zach added, “I was used by MI6 and maybe others. She’s my wife.”
“Technically, an online marriage—”
“She’s my wife,” Zach repeated forcefully. “And if the courts don’t see that, then we will get married again. Do you understand me? This is my family we’re talking about.” He slammed the steering wheel, causing the vehicle to swerve.
“I get it,” Logan said quickly. “I get what it’s like to have the woman you love threatened or in a dangerous situation.”
The woman you love.
Zach loved her, didn’t he? Really and truly, honest to goodness.
“I tried to make sure none of this involved you so you could have a real chance with her. A chance where you wouldn’t be doubting her intentions or turning into an agent.”
“I need to know what we’re dealing with.” Zach took a corner too quickly, sending a fluffy gray cat scurrying across the street and into the square on Main Street.
“The Catherine you know is the missing daughter of the Davies gang. Her real name is Patty Davies,” Logan said, a hint of guilt in voice. “Records show she’s never been involved in the family activities.”
Thank goodness for that. Zach wasn’t sure how he’d feel if he discovered he’d fallen for a criminal.
Logan quickly filled him in on Catherine’s past, explaining how she’d left home at a young age, avoiding her family until the sting operation exposed that she had been working in their nightclub, which had been a front for a massive money-laundering scheme. Logan spoke without emotion, as though reading from a report. He had switched into agent mode, shutting off any feelings or personal affiliations. It was time for Zach to do the same. Although this time it might be difficult.
“She didn’t know she was working for her family?” Zach confirmed.
“Correct.”
How could she not know?
Then again, it had taken a lot of failed operations and missing operatives to bring the family to justice. They might just be that good.
Zach sped through Blueberry Springs, the small town never feeling so large. Catherine had been able to take the footbridge over the river, a shortcut that would get her home before him even though he had the advantage of speed.
Logan continued, “Simon Whitman was sent to get close to her, to gain her trust. He’d originally assumed her to be involved, since she was booking headliners, bringing in a stream of cash that gave the club room to fudge their books without causing suspicion. It took months for him to get close enough to discover that she was oblivious to what was happening in the back rooms.”
Zach grew hot under the collar, thinking what all Simon had done to get close enough to Catherine to gain her trust, as well as to get her pregnant.
“He needed to influence her into making certain bookings, so he could set up the gang and get the evidence he needed in order to put them away,” Logan said gently, no doubt sensing Zach’s rage.
“He used her.”
“You know how this job is.”
“He got her pregnant!”
Logan’s jaw flexed, but he said calmly, “Sometimes you have to do whatever it takes to get close to someone.”
“It was unethical to ditch her like that.”
“Condoms break. Accidents happen.”
“Xavier isn’t an accident.” Zach couldn’t imagine Catherine without her son.
“You know what I mean. A single mom is small collateral for putting these men away. We’re talking missing people, Zach. Murders. Drug trafficking. Lives being ruined. You hear me?”
“He put her life in danger.”
“The man was doing his job. He sent her here, to protect her while maintaining his cover as a dead man. There was no way he could show his face, or he’d be in the morgue. These guys don’t forgive and forget.” His tone softened. “We’ve all had to make impossible choices, Zach. Get your heart out of this.”
“I don’t want to,” Zach muttered stubbornly. He hated the greater good right now. He truly did. “Why did Whitman come here? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“He offered her an envelope.”
“The mission ended with the convictions.” After a long moment, he added, “Child support?”
“She didn’t take it.” She must hate Simon. Hate what he did to her and her family. Assuming she even knew.
“Does she know that Simon’s MI6?”
“He said he didn’t break cover. It’s likely she still thinks he’s a normal guy who got too close, got too greedy, and when the heat cranked up, turned tail and ratted out everyone. He’s the no-good boyfriend who faked his own death when the heat got to him and left her behind.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t get her put into protection.”
She had to hate the man. Even with his background, knowledge and understanding, Zach despised Simon.
He cringed as he asked, “Does she know I used to be an agent?”
“I don’t think so. Ginger said she’s been careful not to let it slip.”
As Zach slammed the vehicle into Park outside his home, he asked, “Why did Simon send her to me?”
“Because he wanted to keep her safe.”
They were at a standoff. Jill looked ready to throw the knife into Jerry’s throat. And he looked ready to pull the trigger and send a bullet through hers. Jerry’s grip was still tight on Catherine’s arm and she was caught in the middle, Xavier hiccupping and squirming at being ignored in his state of distress. Tears streaked down Catherine’s face as she waited for the standoff to end.
There wasn’t even a tremble in Jill’s hand, and Catherine noticed she had an odd tattoo shaped like an apostrophe on the inside of her wrist. The fact that she was noting tiny details caused Catherine to wonder if these were her last moments. If this was the beginning of the reel where her life flashed before her eyes.
More tears slid down her cheeks as she realized all the things she would miss. Seeing Xavier grow up. Getting to know Zach better.
No, that she wouldn’t miss. He was as rotten as the man holding her hostage. An associate. Bile rose up in her throat at the thought. How had she missed that in both Simon and Zach? Simon, who’d left her high, dry, pregnant and in danger, so he could save himself. Zach, his associate. Who’d made her think he loved her so she would stay. Here where she could be found.
She’d fallen for a criminal.
She’d tried to turn over a new leaf and be someone else, but it hadn’t worked out. She could never be that wonderful, innocent person because that simply wasn’t her life.
But it could still be Jill’s.
Catherine twisted in Bucket’s grip, putting an arm in front of her new friend to protect her, securely placing herself in the middle.
“Just shoot me. I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being betrayed. I’m tired of people not being who they say they are. And I’m tired of being lied to.”
“My pleasure,” Bucket said with a wicked smile, swinging the gun a few inches so it lined up with her instead of Jill. Catherine was still holding the skillet, and she raised it in front of Xavier, hoping it could somehow spare him from what would surely be a brutal close-range shot.
&
nbsp; But before she could shut her eyes and brace for the inevitable, Jill stepped back, cocking her arm. Her wrist flicked forward in one fluid move, releasing the knife through the air as the gun went off. Catherine jumped, the skillet jerking as though of its own volition. She hadn’t protected Xavier! She’d flinched!
Jill stumbled, knocking into Catherine and her wailing child. Jerry was bleeding, cursing. He’d released Catherine and she spun, scanning for the best route out of the house. She needed the diaper bag.
Shouts filled her ringing ears as Zach and Logan entered the kitchen, guns drawn.
“Put down your weapon, Jerry!” Zach shouted. The walls spit and exploded behind the men as Bucket began firing off rounds.
Catherine dropped to her hands and knees, Zach’s African violet landing in front of her, dirt spilling as its pot shattered. Behind her, Zach lunged across the room like a bull toward a matador’s cape, sending Bucket into the wall with a sickening crunch. As Catherine crawled toward the hall to the front of the house, awkwardly cradling Xavier so he didn’t bounce around in his front carrier, she spotted Zach lifting her cousin to the ceiling, then slamming him down on the kitchen floor.
Gasping for air, Catherine scrambled to her feet among Xavier’s shrieks. Jill stumbled into her, half pushing, half helping her as they fled to the front door.
“Go, go, go!” Jill kept saying.
Catherine reached down on her way out of the house to snatch the handle of the diaper bag. Hitting the front walk at a dead run, she heard George hollering from his step about the gunshots bothering his dog and how he was calling the police.
Adrenaline fueled her legs as she skittered down the road, directionless. Hooking the diaper bag handle over her arm, she checked Xavier and her hands for signs of blood, but didn’t see any.
“This way!” Jill slid and slipped around an icy corner of the sidewalk in her stocking feet. “This way.”