by A. D. Roland
“We’ve got some other things to talk about, Mattie,” K said, twirling her hair between two of his fingers. She remained silent, concentrating on keeping her hand as still as possible. As long as she was moving, her fingers didn’t hurt so bad. The swelling and bruising made her nauseas. Her body didn’t ache so fiercely, if she didn’t think about it. The cramps had eased.
“You let some other asshole touch you.” Mattie’s stomach dropped to her feet.
“Don’t hurt him, K.”
“It’s more fun to hurt you, Mattie. Besides, if he knew half the things we did to you outside, he won’t ever want to touch you again.”
Mattie flushed with shame, grateful she couldn’t recall any more than the most basic of events. The pain told her more than she needed to know. West hadn’t met her eyes once since she’d come to on the floor, hours earlier.
“You need to learn the lesson here, Matilyn. You should know better than to let some other dick touch you.” He twisted around on the couch until he was straddling her body, one arm against her throat. “This is going to be the last time I’m ever going to have to deal with you this harshly, isn’t it, Matilyn?”
“Yes, K. Please don’t.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to do,” he chided. He called one of his thugs over. “Hold her hands.”
Logan captured her wrists with no regard to her broken fingers and pinned them to the top edge of the couch. Involuntary, terrified sobs rattled from Mattie’s chest when K flicked out his shiny silver knife. It was the most ridiculous weapon she’d ever seen since it lacked any sort of grip on the handle, but K loved it. He kept it razor sharp.
So sharp, that when it cut, the victim didn’t even know it until blood began to flow.
“I really didn’t want it to have to come to this. But you got pregnant by the asshole. I warned him not to touch you, so he’s going to have to live with the fact that I’m raising his kid. But you, Mattie, I’ve got to have insurance that you aren’t going to try a stunt like this again.”
He got right in her face. “You’re mine, and I’m making it official right now.” From behind the couch, the other thug clamped his hands around the sides of her head and held her down. The bright silver blade dipped toward her cheek.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mattie woke up on the couch, the cushion under her head soaked with blood. She rose, nearly crying out from the pain when the upholstery stuck to the gashes on her right cheek.
He cut my face.
She tried to fight the tears, but they poured down her cheeks anyway. The salt stung the cuts, making her bite her lip to keep from crying out. With tentative fingers, she touched her face, lightly tracing the raised, clotted edges of the K. She probed the inside of her cheek with her tongue. It was huge, taking up most of her cheek, from just beneath her eye to her jaw, and from an inch or so from her nose to the hollow under her cheekbone.
“Bastard,” she whispered. Mattie could hear him talking somewhere behind her, probably over by the door. Logan and the other thug laughed at something he said.
He was going to pay. That soft, weak part of her wasn’t there anymore. She could be as cold and as cruel as he. The strength in her roared to life. She closed her eyes and visualized it.
Her breath caught in her throat.
West. It was his kisses and his caresses, his intoxicating violence when he made love to her. She found strength in the memory of the way he held her at night and sang the nightmares away. Strength came in the way he looked at her over a bag of potting soil while they worked in the nursery, and the way he always flashed her that little half-smile when they had to deal with James McKendrick.
You’re my strength, West. I don’t care if you hate me right now. You’re still my strength.
Light blue, early morning light filtered through the high windows. What a beautiful day to die. The thought stalled out all her other thoughts. Why the hell did I think that?
Because it’s true. There was no way she could take on K and live. If she took him out, Logan and the other one would be right there to finish her.
It was worth the risk. West would be safe. He’d have Emeline to take care. Her sister was curled up at his side, her head on his thigh. She wished she’d taken more time to really get to know Em. Mattie bowed her head and wondered if she should pray for something. The last conversation she’d had with God had been a one-sided yelling match when she found out she was pregnant with Molly.
I just need an opportunity to save West, she asked silently. If You can hear me, help me save him, please. You send me to hell, whatever. Just let me save West.
The strong part of her reminded her she was a warrior, standing silent and stoic, waiting for just the right moment.
Something skidded across the floor and stopped next to her foot. Squelching a yelp, Mattie looked down at the shiny black object.
A phone.
Glancing quickly at West and Emeline, she saw they were both awake, staring at her with blazing, intense eyes. Mattie scooped it up and stuffed it into her bra just as K stomped around the couch.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded. West and Emeline huddled closer together. “A rat, K. Over there by that bucket. I think it fell in.” Mattie pointed toward the water spigot and the metal tubs.
“Go wash your face, Mattie,” K said, curling his lip in disgust.
“Over where the rat is?”
“Well, yeah.” Mattie crossed the shed and knelt by the spigot. She faked a screech and jumped away from the tubs. The squeal turned into a real one when she whacked her broken fingers against one of them.
“What the hell?” K demanded.
“It was still over here,” she replied.
“Holy hell, Mattie, just wash your face.”
The water was cold, but it felt so good on her hot, fevered cheek and swollen fingers. She kept her fingers submerged until K dragged her back to the couch. “We’re leaving in an hour for the money,” he said. The thug by the door was checking his gun.
A cold bolt of fear shot through Mattie’s heart. “Don’t hurt them, K.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Shit. I don’t understand why they mean so much to you. That dickhead couldn’t care less about you, and your own sister hates you.”
“I’ve hurt too many people already, K. I don’t want them hurt.”
“Get over there by your lover-boy. I have to go take care of something outside, and I don’t want you trying anything smart.”
Mattie sat against the wall a few feet away from West. K looped zip ties around her wrists and pulled them tight. He did the same to Emeline and West.
One thug went with K, the other stayed just outside the open door. Blindingly bright sunlight spilled into the shed, lighting up West’s swollen, blood-crusted face. Emeline didn’t have any marks on her face, but she had been crying all night. Mattie didn’t even want to imagine what she looked like.
She kept her head bowed so her hair fell over the ruined side of her face
“You’re not Elaine,” Emeline said, her voice hoarse from a night of crying. “Why does he keep saying you’re my sister, if you’re not Elaine?”
“’Cuz I am, Emeline. Karen was my mother, too.”
“You are so full of shit! You don’t even look like us! You just want money,” Em sobbed.
West looked over at Mattie. Everything in her ached to slide over and cuddle against him, even if it was just for a minute.
If she did, she’d lose her grip on her resolve. She needed to hang on to it in order to have even the slightest chance to beat K.
West spoke softly. “Just before this happened, I got the results of the DNA test, Mattie. You’re not Emeline’s half sister.”
“Yes, I am, West. Karen is my mother. We don’t have time to argue about this.”
Emeline began to sob hysterically. Mattie groaned, wondering if the woman would ever lose the theatrics. West sighed. “Use that damn cell phone to get us some help, Mattie
. When that asshole finds out there ain’t nothing buried under that tree, he’s not going to let that slide.”
“He’ll probably kill me,” she agreed.
“Where are we?”
“Carter’s shed.”
“Will Jose know where it is?”
“Don’t draw him into this!”
“I don’t have a choice.” Mattie plucked the cell phone out of her bra and sent a text message to Jose using her pinkie finger of her injured hand. After making sure the ringer was silenced and the vibrating ringer was turned off, she was able to tuck the phone into West’s pocket by stretching as far as she could and biting back a scream of pain.
K burst back into the shed. “Ready?” he asked Mattie. “Let’s load up.”
“Let me say goodbye. We did have some good times.”
K shrugged. “Whatever.” She hurried back inside. Knowing K was watching from the door, she knelt in front of West.
“I’m so sorry, West. I know I brought this down on both of you, and I’m so damn sorry.” She kissed his cheek and gave him the best armless hug that she could manage.
“Wait a minute, Mattie,” he said. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“West, I’m trying to save your life. And Em’s. It’s probably going to cost mine, but you’re worth it.”
Brushing her lips across his stubble-roughened cheek, she whispered, “You’re the reason,” rather than goodbye. One of his favorite songs by Hoobastank said everything she couldn’t.
“Em, I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen.” The younger woman wouldn’t even look at her.
K came up behind her and hauled her to her feet by the back of her shirt. The ripped fabric didn’t provide much of handle and she lost her balance, falling forward into West’s chest.
“Please don’t do anything stupid,” he whispered quickly.
“I’m sorry,” she said one last time as K’s hands gripped her shoulders and pulled up, back.
“Mattie!” West yelled.
Outside, she could still hear him yelling for her. She closed her eyes on the brimming tears, forcing them back. Didn’t work. By the time K shoved her into the backseat of a small black car, she couldn’t see through the veil of tears. The salt stung the cut on her cheek, another reminder of how shot to hell everything was.
The closer they got to the property, the harder her gut churned. Cold and hot all over, all at the same time, it was all she could do to sit still. Her whole hand was swollen and screamed with agony at the slightest touch. The cheek that K had butchered was hot and stiff.
The driver turned into the long dirt driveway. Mattie’s stomach bottomed out and she felt so, so sick.
“You got shovels here?” K demanded.
“In the shed.” The shed hadn’t burned with the rest of the trailer. Mattie wondered if the fire had burned itself out or if the fire department had put it out.
K and Mattie got out of the backseat. K gave the thugs specific instructions. “Get back on the highway and keep an eye out for the law. Any sign of them, call me.”
Perfect. With the thugs out of the way, Mattie knew she had a better chance of taking her revenge.
With K leading the way around the charred rubble of her cozy little home, Mattie felt her strong-self rising to the top again. It pushed all her doubts down, away.
K had no power over her. Everything about West surrounded her, wrapped around her. The land that he worked so fervently reached up to lend her the bits of him that remained in the soul. She found bits of herself in the grass brushing her ankles. In the bright colors of the bouganvilla plants twining up bits of trellis stuck in their pots. She’d helped West plant the new roses that bloomed in a riot of pink and red and white near the climbing plants. He was still there, smiling at her over the leaves, laughing when she accidentally dumped a trowel full of manure down her shirt.
She heard him whispering her name on the wind, making promises he wasn’t sure if he meant.
K made her carry the shovel, holding the gun to the back of her head. “I still don’t really trust you.”
Wise, she thought. It was an awkward task, managing a heavy, full-sized shovel with one good hand and a gun to her head, but she managed. Sweat began to run down her face, salting her wounded cheek. The itch and burn threatened to drive her crazy.
She led the way through the dead orange grove to the huge, beautiful tree in the center. Limping by the time she got there, she walked around the trunk until she found the heart. “Here.” She pointed to the earth at her feet. The streaks of blood staining the inside of her knees and running down her legs almost undid her. The crotch of her shorts were soaked with crimson, the stains spreading along the legs. She bit her bottom lip to halt its trembling.
Can’t think about it now. Got a job to do. When it’s done, I can cry about it.
“Well, get to work.”
“K, I’ve got two broken fingers,” she protested. For a moment, the pain wore at her nerves, threatening to fray them to the point of no return. “I can’t dig a hole in hard dirt.”
“You better figure out a way, then.”
The expression on his face was one she’d never seen before. It froze the marrow in her bones. “So who did you screw over to need this much money so fast?”
“Does it fucking matter?”
“Just asking.”
He was quiet for a moment. “The Carnelli sisters.”
Genuinely shocked, Mattied gaped at him. “K! You know better than to mess with those whores and their money.”
“They fixed the races, Mattie. If you’d been with me, you would have seen it before I made my bets. But no, you were off pretending to be ‘mommy’ in Atlanta.”
Painstakingly, Mattie maneuvered the long wooden handle of the shovel until she was able to edge it into the ground. Tiny amounts of soil she was able to turn over were the best she could do. K paced manically.
After ten minutes of digging, Mattie was nauseous and dizzy from the pain. She paused and leaned on the shovel, heaving deep breaths of dirt-scented air into her lungs. If she did get the opportunity to deal with K, she wouldn’t have the strength!
“Wrap your damn hands around that handle and use it, Matilyn,” K ordered.
“You broke my fingers, K. I can’t exactly use that hand very well.”
“You’ll do it or I’ll call Tony and Logan. Those people you care so much about will just be brain splatters left on the wall by the time we get back out there to them.” Mattie braced herself and used her right hand to fold her swollen, stiff fingers around the handle of the shovel. Rage flared up with the pain. There was enough anger to eclipse the pain. How long will this last? Black spots danced in front of her eyes.
Off to their left, the bushes rustled. Scruffy popped out of the woods, his fur standing on end. He wasn’t growling, though. K eyed the dog suspiciously. “Dig, Mattie. I want that money.”
“What if there’s not any money?” she asked. Push deep. The shovel bit into the earth. The pain from her hand bit into her sanity. “What if somebody moved it already?”
“All I have to say is there better be money here, or at least the body you’re talking about.” Mattie scooped out another half-shovel-full of dirt. Thank the heavens above, exhaustion and agony numbed her to the worst of it. Probably shock, she decided. Hopefully shock. After an hour, she could barely move her arms. The hole was ankle deep, laced with strong, stringy pine tree roots encroaching from the nearby treeline. She couldn’t dig her shovel in without having to chop through roots.
“K, you’ve made my life a living hell,” she said suddenly, not really sure why. The words just sort of flopped out of her mouth.
“So?”
“Why me?”
“You were easy, that’s why. I knew when we were kids that you were infatuated with me.”
“You’re delusional. I hated you. I always have. I still do.”
“Like I said—so?”
“So one day I’m going to make
you regret it.”
He laughed at her. “Not likely. You know you need me. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be living on the street. You’d be absolutely nothing right now.”
I’m nothing without West, she thought. Something in her muscles, a tension she couldn’t understand, spoke to her.
Told her to brace herself.
To get ready.
The time was getting closer.
She thanked the warrior hiding inside her.
“Wanna know what I found in that dick’s pocket?” K said.
“What?” She expected a love note to or from Emeline. “Paternity test results.”
“West had them?” Perplexed, Mattie stopped digging. “Why did West have them?” Then it struck her. “Ruth Ellen gave them to him!”
“Did she ever tell you who your father was?”
Mattie shook her head. Drops of sweat rained off her brow. “Just some rando my mother screwed.”
“Wrong. James McKendrick.”
The shovel slipped out of her grip, striking her broken fingers. The pain drove her to her knees. “He can’t be.”
K pulled a pair of crinkled papers out of his pocket. “’Fraid so. Got the proof right here. Your sister told me all about the stipulations of the trust funds and the wills, Mattie. You have to be a full heir to inherit anything. Guess what, babe?”
He paused for dramatic effect. Mattie wished she had the motivation to roll her eyes. “You, Evelyn Claire Carruther, are a full heir. Congratulations, babe. We’re millionaires.” He paused. “Well, we would be if you hadn’t kidnapped his daughter and held her for ransom. They should go pretty easy on you, though. You can tell them it was Stockholm Syndrome or something. What was that chick’s name? Patty Hearst. She only got a few decades in prison.”