“The kids?” Riley asked, my eyes shifting back toward him. Something radiated from his voice dark and foreboding. Terror.
“I put the kids in their beds. Then I poured every ounce of gasoline I had throughout the place. I lit it up and then I stood on the street watching everything I’d worked for, everything I loved, eaten by the flames. I watched for a long time, but our house wasn’t the only house on fire. It was odd. No sirens, no help came for them.”
She watched the smoke from his cigar form a line that began curling upward.
“You’re story is much different though. Isn’t it?” He asked.
“You don’t know me.”
“I’ve known you for a long time Riley Collins” He sighed. His eyes narrowed and a glimmer of the fire reflected off his eyes. “Riley Collins from California, you remind me a lot of my wife. Your personality, your looks and then there is that unique fire inside of you.” He said blowing smoke in more ways than one.
The fact that she reminded him of his wife wasn’t good news, especially since she cheated on him and he’d killed her for it.
“I didn’t tell you I was from California.” She said flatly. “Who are you?”
“Right.” He said. “You’re husband just doesn’t understand what he has or had.” Ringo said glancing down at his cigar.
How did you know?
“Tell me.” He said. He raised his pistol in her direction and leaned forward.
Riley hesitated. “I left him. I don’t know if he survived the shift. You tell me.” Was he just guessing or did he know about her and how? She sure as hell didn’t want to converse with him.
He laughed aloud and then let it fade. “Poor man. Oh come on Riley, do tell.” He said in a deep voice. “If I were a betting man…I’d say.” He paused not finishing that sentence. “Tell me Riley or we end it here and now. Did his cheating hurt you?”
“Yes.” He already knew the answer, but how? Now he would feed on it. When you tell someone your secrets it’s like opening the doors to your soul and you’d better be prepared to bare it all. If it were going to keep her alive, she’d tell him everything, every detail of her miserable life with Mark.
“You left him because he was cheating on you.” He grinned. He liked this.
“I left him because he was an asshole.”
“There’s that fire I was talking about. I bet you were a handful.” He said, pointing at her. “I saw it the moment I met you in person.”
“What do you mean in person?” She asked. “Have we met before?”
“Not really.” He said side stepping my question. “Did you like your job?” He chuckled. “What did you do for a living?”
“I was a dispatcher.” Bluff.
He lurched from his chair so fluid and silent picking her up as if she were nothing more than a feather. He was ready to hurl her across the room. Riley cried out in pain as his fingers pinched her skin and muscle. He pinned her close to the fire. The backside of her pants heated up burning her skin.
“Don’t ever lie to me again Riley.” He said in a whisper. You understand?”
Riley could see the fine scars on his face, the zigzag of the lines where the stitching needle had gone in and then come out. Light grey streaks of color pulsated to the beat of his heart touched off with red dancing deep from behind the iris. With dilated pupils and the whites as clear as snow yet pinstriped with fine red vessels, he stared into her eyes. His teeth were white, straight, and clean. She felt his darkness. Hatred simmered as his teeth gritted together and his nostrils flared slightly. Then he calmed and his hold softened. He pressed his face within an inch of her lifted his nose as if smelling her. Animal.
“Never lie to me again.”
“I was a game warden.” She said gritting her teeth.
He let her go. The backs of her legs stung. The first of his schooling was over. He knows too much about me. He’d known Mark and he’d known he’d cheated on me. Spade kept flashing in her mind, but that was impossible. Any familiarity she felt led back to that little event back in Bakersfield or did it?
“Sit.” He demanded. “You’re wondering why you’re here.” He said. “I mean. That’s what I’d want to know if I were you.”
“Yes.” She answered boiling with hatred.
“That’s better. I can’t make too many promises because I find you so exciting. However, I do want my son back. Your new friends murdered my brother, burned my house down and took what was mine. That includes a boy. That boy is mine. The women are replaceable.”
Riley recognized Ringo’s unique ability to utilize common sense by putting himself in his victim’s shoes. He knew her fears. It was all part of the game to him and he was enjoying every moment.
“Where is the boy?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Riley said honestly. “I saw no boy.”
He stepped towards her. Riley wanted to rip his eyes out. He placed his fingers around her shoulder and neck, stroking back the loose strands of hair that’d strayed from the band holding it back. Then he touched her neck. Riley thought his fingers would be just as cold as his heart, but they weren’t. He wrapped his fingers around. She struggled, he gripped her and shook his head no. He’ll kill you.
“Your eyes, they’re so blue.” His fingers tightened around her neck, squeezing slowly down until the blood flowing through the carotid artery pounded against his fingers. He closed the space between them. “You have no control over your body when you’re unconscious.”
“That’s not your style,” She said, the words barely slipping past his fingers around her throat. She thought of her bare feet.
Riley did the only thing she could to loosen his grip. She brought her knee up as hard as she could between his legs. He buckled, but his grip around her throat tightened. Riley fought to get free. Then closed her off, shutting her down with pressure. Her last thought was the box under the floor.
FIFTY
Inside the Colton home, a feeling of tension coupled with serenity fell on the faces of its people. In the kitchen, several pots of coffee boiled on the stove. At its best camp coffee, hot, strong, and black. Jack could smell the aroma clear from the living room and was waiting impatiently for it to brew. He was exhausted. His body ached and still the deep seeded anxiety way down deep inside of his gut kept him from falling into one of the chairs and slumping over to sleep. In the far corner of the room close to the fire, Matt sat asleep.
“Let’s get him to one of the guest rooms.” Jack said to Shay.
“You need to rest too.”
Jack didn’t need to rest. He was already thinking about finding Ringo’s nesting place. He had one more warrior to bring home, one more soul to save and for some reason this one was necessary.
“Come on buddy” He said to Matt “let’s get you somewhere you can rest.” Matt opened his eyes; his pupils dilated his words slurred. Sherry had sedated him with a mixed cocktail of pain meds and sedatives to keep him quiet on the road. He wrapped his arms around the two, allowing them to stand him up and lead him toward the hallway. Shay smiled when he started talking about football.
“You’re next Blake.” Jack said after getting Matt settled.
Shay handed Blake a pill for the pain. “Take them.” She said. “It might be another few hours before Nick can get to you.” Jack was already ripping his pant leg open and looking at the wound.
“The bullet went through?” Jack said.
“I’ve never been shot before.” He said clenching his teeth as Shay pressed into the wound. “Jesus, it hurts like hell.”
“Suck it up buttercup.” Jack grinned. He patted Blake on the shoulder. “Good thing Chicks dig scars. Right Ryan? Where is that brother of mine?”
“Great.” Blake said.
“Terra’s parents came and got her yesterday.” Amy said from the doorway. “You know she told us you’d come.”
“I’m sorry it took so long.” Blake said, shifting his weight.
“You’ll live.” Shay said,
pressing gauze onto Blake’s wound. He jumped from the pressure.
“Easy”.
“Baby.” Shay teased.
Twenty minutes later a much-needed silence rolled through the house. The great living room was warm and the fire crackled. Shay and Amy picked up where Lynn’s hospitality left off, filling coffee cups and handing out sandwiches. Fed and warm the team grew sleepy. Jack fought it off no longer. He heard Lynn’s voice reminding him that he wasn’t superman.
The last time he got more than an hour’s sleep was almost forty-eight hours ago. He was going to need all his strength for the next fight. Megan was safe, but things were much different for Riley, he was sure of it. He’d seen the scars and wounds on Shay. Darkness was settling in and night was approaching quick. He settled for the big armchair next to his bed. Time was running out for rest and the weary were exhausted.
Jack heard Lynn long before she turned the handle. He let his finger go slack on the trigger and turned to face her through the darkness as she entered through the door and beside him. Her long hair was down around her shoulders, which meant they finished working on the little girl. She stepped in closer, looking down at Jack. There was a moment of silence between them.
“How is she?” He asked, setting his pistol down on the nightstand.
Turning his back to Lynn, he stood up and rubbed his face. If the girl died, he didn’t want Lynn to see his face. She sat down on the bed and sighed deep. Jack felt his stomach roll.
“She made it through surgery.” Lynn said. “She’s fighting hard.”
Jack nodded putting his fingertips to his forehead. Lynn stood laying her hand on his back, rubbing his shoulder. “She reminds me of Lily, too little and far too young to be going through this.”
“I know.” He said, closing his eyes for a moment. Her fingers slipped away from him.
“You did good Jack.” She said.
“Not good enough.”
Then he heard the sound of the door close and for the first time in three days, he pulled his clothes off, slipped into his bed, and slept. Bombarded with nightmares between a man named Ringo and finding the woman called Riley, he fought demons until he could fight no more.
When he woke, sunshine was filtering in through the window. He slipped out of bed into the cool air of the room and glanced out the window. Below the twins were getting into a white van, the logo on the side read “Your Connection. Reconnecting friends and family.”
Mark Henderson’s van was a rolling transporter. It was also a new beginning for those who lost loved ones during the shift. Mark’s team was responsible for placing underage homeless kids, elderly folks, and handicapped persons with local people until placed in a home or a safe environment. Alice, Mark’s wife and her team worked to locate family or friends and reunite them as well. Sometimes the endings were sad ones. There seemed an endless list of lost parents and, or siblings all effects of the shift that left individuals entirely alone.
The Henderson’s also provided room and board until survivors got back on their feet. In addition, on a week-to-week basis, there were support meetings and Nick provided free clinics for those in need. With an abundance of abandoned homes that needed families it was enduring to fill them. However, the town of Prescott had a protocol and those things didn’t come free. Jobs were offered. It was all part of the rebuilding process.
Jack watched the trail of dust as the van, trailed by Kid, left the ranch. He’d catch Kid later. Right now, he needed a shower. When he was finished, he headed downstairs, passing through Nick’s office door. When he came to the entrance of the surgical room, he stopped. Tapping softly on the door, he waited. The door opened.
“How’s she doing Doc?” He asked.
“It was a long night” He motioned Jack in.
Utah sat in a chair next to her sister. The cat in her lap curled up in a ball purring loudly. Stopping beside Megan, he started to say something and then stopped.
“Jack,” Nick said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah…fine.” He said. Megan’s face was pale, but there was a sort of rosy red that replaced the blue tint in her lips from yesterday. Her innocence overshadowed the violence done to her. She’d never spoken to Jack, but he could almost hear her.
“I got the bullet out. He said.
“Is she sleeping or unconscious?” Jack asked.
“Both.”
“If she wakes up will you come and get me?” Jack asked.
He stepped away and then remembered Matt. “Matt?”
“He’s good. You guys saved his life.” Nick said.
“We took a lot too.”
“You’re doing good Jack. We’re slowly getting back to living again. Thanks to all of you.” Nick stepped over and patted Jack on the shoulder. “Nice truck by the way.”
“It didn’t seem right to leave it behind.”
Nick grinned.
“I see you have good company.” Jack said glancing over at Max.
“Been here all night.” Nick said.
“Thanks Nick.” Jack said and then he stepped out the door.
FIFTY-ONE
When Riley woke a slight sliver of light was peeking through a tiny opening somewhere inside the room. She was cold, the gash on her jaw ached. She felt like she’d been in a train wreck. She was alive and she wasn’t in the box.
She guessed she’d been out for a long time. There was a light flickering from under the door. “Am I in the same room as the box?” she thought she whispered.
Heavy boards and plywood blocked the windows. Light from the fire snuck through the cracks giving her just enough light to see with. Ringo had provided her with a plastic bucket without a handle, a military style blanket, and a large gallon of bottled water.
The first attempt at standing ended badly. Her legs gave out. She felt like a drunkard, falling face forward on the floor. The second attempt went a little better. She stood to her feet grabbing the blanket and holding it for some sort of metaphoric comfort. Needed to move, she stretched out her legs as well as the rest of her body. Riley had a lot of thinking to do and the drugs he’d given her were making things clouded and unbalanced. She picked a corner and lay the blanket down. Remember the house on the hill. I was alone there. Her teeth began to chatter.
Tiptoeing along the wall, she brushed fingertips over the wood searching for nails. The walls were strong, made of pole bolted securely in place by something much thicker. Checking for loose or raised nails, she found nothing. She stared at the door, imaging going past to freedom.
The floorboards creaked. When her toes reached an indent, she stopped. The box. Riley’s stomach churned. She fought off yet another urge to vomit. Make it go away. She forced it back down. Feeling miles away from the outside world, the sound of a wolf only added to her sadness. The tears rolled from her eyes and she let them until they ran dry.
At some point, Riley sat down on the scratchy thin blanket and fell asleep. She began to dream, she stood in sunshine. The heat coming through the window warmed her skin. Max purred beside her, watching birds eat worms. The grass was so green that it was hard to separate where the grass started and where it ended. Flowers were blooming right before her eyes. They danced between the graves, interconnecting with vines.
Pressing into the window, she watched as sunlight turned to darkness. On the other side was Mark. She jumped back, knocking into a chair. Flight or fight. He locked his dark eyes onto hers. Pointing his finger at her, his face filled with anger and hatred.
Over his tall frame, he wore a dark trench coat the material swirled around him like wings. Riley saw guns. Tiny embers of flame sparked from his eyes. Terrified, she thought he might pull her into his darkness. She stepped backward. She wasn’t alone in the house. Turning, Riley saw Lucas. Then Spade stepped in beside Mark. Evil stood next to evil.
“Someday you will have to face your fears.” Lucas whispered.
Max hissed.
“He’ll kill me.”
“Only if you let hi
m.” Lucas said.
“Is he alive?” She asked.
Lucas said nothing. She moved from this place in her dream to somewhere much darker.
The apartment was small and stark in comparison to what it could’ve been. The furnishings were older and wore out like most everything else in its space. Heavy curtains stained from nicotine covered the windows, keeping the outside light hidden. From somewhere inside the living room a television blared. Riley stepped from the kitchen into the living room. The dream was like watching a movie. A man sat in a reclining chair holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, but he couldn’t see her. The smell of stale cigarettes made her nose itch and stomach roll. On the television, NASCAR was in New Hampshire racing the Sprint Cup series.
“Amy,” The man yelled.
His voice was grating ricocheting off the stained walls to the center of the room. A floorboard creaked from above and Riley saw a thin woman with long curly brown hair slink down the stairs.
“I need another beer.” He yelled.
He sat with his feet up, wearing nothing more than a dingy tan shirt and a pair of shorts. He sported several days’ growth on his face. First impression of him was nothing short of negative. Sitting ten feet from the kitchen, he could’ve fetched his own beer. Riley shuddered, remembering how Mark use to make her get things for him.
Amy, Utah and Megan’s mother, was beautiful. Putting aside that her face was gaunt and tired, several bruises were beginning to turn a yellowish green on her face, and she wore a new cast on her left arm, she was stunning. With natural dark eyelashes which framed large almond shaped eyes. However, the spark of life was gone. Like both of her girls, her lips were heart shaped and where fine lines should have been were traces of scars.
Amy sighed and grabbed him beer. Then she just stood there looking at a knife on the counter next to that a gun. Riley could hear their thoughts.
“I could stab him. Not kill him, but stab him and then pull him outside into the alley.” Racing to keep up with her thoughts, Riley was silently urging her to be careful. Riley understood this fear. “The girls, child protective services would take the girls. I’d go to prison. I need to get him out of here, but how?”
Not Alone: The Beginning (The Fighter Series Book 1) Page 22