Extreme Measures

by Rachel Carrington

  With slight, birdlike movements, Hal clasped his hands together underneath his chin and bobbed his head. “I’m sorry, Erin. I didn’t know you had company.” The words squeaked out.

  Seeking to reassure him, she touched a hand to his shoulder. She didn’t miss the muscle jumping in her ex-husband’s jaw. “It’s all right. What’s wrong?” The pain in her neighbor’s eyes sent her slipping back into the caretaker role she assumed whenever he needed her.

  A quiet, frail man, Hal blinked at her from behind thick-rimmed glasses, his usually wan face even paler. “It’s nothing. Nothing that won’t wait. It’s fine.” His legs jerked out in front of him as though his every movement was controlled by a puppeteer. He fumbled for the doorknob behind him. “G-good-night.” He was gone before Erin could try to stop him.

  “Do all of your neighbors have such liberal access to your house?”

  Erin whipped around, feeling the heat rush to her face. “Get out.” Marching forward, she slapped her hands against his chest. “Get out of my house now, or I swear to God, I’ll call the police.”

  One eyebrow lifted, indicating Matt’s disregard for the threat. “This is a federal matter. The local police department is aware of my presence, and the chief knows I won’t be going anywhere until Stuart has been apprehended.”

  “The hell you won’t.” Scooting past him, she stormed to the front door and yanked it open. “You have until the count of ten to leave.” She had no idea what she would do once she reached ten. Please don’t call my bluff.

  Matt strolled out of the kitchen and over to the sofa, settling himself atop the cushions with one arm flung across the top. “You might want to put some shoes on before you go back into the kitchen. Glass can be a bitch on bare feet.”

  She slammed the door and pressed her back to it. “Why are you doing this? Would it be so difficult to stay in a hotel?” She dragged her hair away from her face, slung it over her shoulder.

  “I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”

  “I don’t need protection!” She practically screamed the words, but they could have bounced off the walls for all the good they did. “You don’t even know if Stuart is anywhere within a five hundred mile radius of Charleston. You’re here because I’m your only link, and you’re hoping he’ll show up and make your job easy.”

  “So tell me more about Hal.” Completely ignoring her outburst, Matt switched gears, his tone now amiable.

  “He’s a friend.” She bit out each word. God, her head was spinning. Her blood pressure had to be at an all time high. Picturing Hal’s frightened face only added to her fury. Matt had to have seen how scared he’d been. Why had he insisted on beating his chest?

  “That tells me nothing.”

  “Take the hint.” Even as the words left her lips, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Matt didn’t end a conversation until he was ready to end it. He was a lot like she was in that aspect.

  He rolled his head back to look at her. “I need to know everything about everyone you come into contact with on a daily basis whether you like it or not. Your brother could try to go through them to get to you. Their lives could be in danger, too.” He patted the cushion beside him. “So have a seat and let’s talk.”

  Erin wanted to defy him, but any resistance on her part now would only come across as petulance. She stalked toward the sofa and planted herself as far away from Matt as possible. “Like I said, Hal is a friend. Extremely harmless.” She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. “A lost soul.” Why did she have to say that aloud?

  “What do you mean by ‘lost soul’?” He sounded genuinely interested.

  She lifted her chin a notch, not quite looking at him. “Hal was born with a genetic disease which makes him frail and a prime target for people with no integrity. He’s been picked on, smacked around, and beaten up so many times I’ve lost track. He’s spent so many nights in the emergency room the nurses know him by sight.”

  Chewing on her lower lip, she shifted on the cushion, drawing one leg up beneath her. “He lives with his mother. They’ve been alone since his father died a couple of years ago. She’s very protective of him, but then, she’s had to be. Sometimes, when Hal can’t take anymore of his mother’s coddling, he comes over here.”

  Matt let out a mumbled curse. “And tonight he got accosted for his troubles.”

  Was that guilt she heard in his rumbling voice? “Many mornings I’ve gotten up to find him sleeping right here. He likes to watch television until the early hours of the morning, but his mother won’t allow it. That’s why he escapes.”

  “Sounds like his mother hasn’t found any middle ground.”

  Erin’s gaze whipped toward his face. Preparing to defend Mrs. Wentworth, she angled her body on the sofa to face Matt, but something caused her to hesitate. She’d seen that look on his face before, like when she rescued stray puppies or took an injured neighbored cat to the vet because its owners were at work. If there was one thing she still recognized, it was her ex-husband’s indulgence in her heart for forgotten souls.

  “Don’t do that.” She could handle any interaction with him as long as he didn’t do or say anything that reminded her of their past, their marriage.

  “Do what?”

  She shook her head, too tired to start another argument. “Never mind.” She couldn’t tell him she could fight everything but his gentleness, and with a few choice words he could destroy her determination to remain aloof. Which was why she had to escape. Now.

  Matt must have read her mind. Before she could stand, he caught hold of her wrist and held her in place. “Wait.”

  The touch of his warm fingers against her skin sent her temperature soaring. She could always hold him off when he was standing across the room from her, but when he touched her, she’d give him anything he asked. She wondered if he remembered that.

  She looked down at his hand while biting her lower lip. “What?”

  He released a sigh that brought her gaze to his face. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to apologize, but he just shook his head and released her. “You’d better get some sleep. If Stuart knows where you are now, he’ll make it here no later than tomorrow.”

  “Right.” Erin smacked one leg and stood up. “Sleep. That’s always an easy thing for me to do when I know I have a man prowling around my living room.” She used sarcasm to mask the nervousness she felt.

  Heat flared in his eyes, tinged with anger she recognized as masked jealousy. “Have you had a lot of experience with that since our divorce?”

  A part of her wanted to tell him the truth, that she hadn’t wanted another man. She couldn’t imagine anyone else touching her, kissing her, holding her. When their marriage had disintegrated, she’d lost interest in any type of physical relationship. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Starting that conversation would be akin to walking along the edge of a cliff.

  “Erin?” His voice sharpened, as though he took her lack of response as a silent affirmative answer. He stood up but didn’t approach her, though his posture told her he was ready for a confrontation if that was what it took to get the answers he wanted.

  She walked around the sofa then turned to look at him. “Good-night, Matt.”

  “I don’t want to think about another man touching you.” His voice had gone silky soft, or maybe it was her imagination. There was absolutely nothing soft about the man standing in front of the sofa with his arms folded across the snowy white shirt he wore. At least not now. Long before, she’d known his soft spots, had witnessed the tenderness when he’d stroked her skin. But things were different now.

  Erin lifted her hair away from her neck and blew out a breath. “Our divorce took away your right to ask questions about my personal life, and that’s all the information you’re going to get from me no matter how much you push.” Desperately needing the rush of anger pouring through her veins, she clung to it like a drowning man to a life raft and tried to escape from his intense gaze while her resolve was stil
l intact.

  “Erin.” The sound of her name stopped her in her tracks, but she couldn’t force herself to turn around.

  “What?” Nervous fingers interlocked in front of her, Erin cursed herself for wanting him to ask her to stay, especially when he wouldn’t.

  He released a sigh so loud it made me shiver then followed it with a quick, “This isn’t any easier for me than it is for you.”

  “I never said it was, but you could have passed on the assignment.” Though she didn’t know much about Matt’s career, he had to have climbed the ranks by now. Odds were good he could opt out of certain assignments now.

  “Yeah, I guess I could have.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Would you have been comfortable trusting your life to a stranger? Because I wouldn’t.”

  Not knowing how to respond, Erin walked away.

  Chapter Four

  Blood dripped in his eyes, falling from the ceiling, soaking the thin mattress covering his bunk. He tried to swipe it away, but the stickiness clung to his skin. The harder he wiped, the more blood appeared.

  Heart pounding in his chest, he rolled out of the bed, dropping to the floor in a hunter’s crouch. Footsteps clicked against the concrete outside the cell—the steady thumps of a guard on rounds. Keys jangled along with the bang of a baton against metal. Stuart couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t dare move. The blood was a warning. Keep his mouth shut and stay in line. Or the next bloodbath would be his.

  The familiar nightmare yanked Stuart out of a restless sleep. He sat up on the double bed in the hotel room he and Arlin had rented with Aunt Felicia’s money. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck while his heart did triple time underneath his breastbone.

  He would never be able to escape that memory. His first night in prison, and it had taken him all of three minutes to piss off the leader of one of the worst gangs behind bars. From then on, Stuart knew it was him or them. So he learned how to fight back. How to kill without being high. The reputation he'd developed in the joint had protected him, but now things were different. He didn't have as much control in the outside world.

  Scraping his stubble-covered jaw with his palms, he cursed below his breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A loud snore interrupted his musings, and he shot a glance toward Arlin's sleeping form. What in the hell was he doing? Escaping prison with his cellmate as a companion was a death sentence. They’d be caught. It was only a matter of time before Arlin did something really stupid—something more stupid besides opening his mouth.

  The guy had a reputation in prison as a snitch for the highest payer. Only his street smarts and swiftness with a knife had kept his ass alive this long. Arlin had a price on his head in every block of the prison, and somehow he managed to elude all his executioners. Stuart didn’t doubt that was why his cellmate had been so eager to tag along. It wasn’t just the fresh air he’d been interested in. The bastard was probably tired of living by looking behind him every step of the way.

  Shaky legs carried Stuart to the bathroom. He didn’t bother with the light switch. All he wanted was the water, but the tepid wetness did little to erase the images targeting his sensory nerves.

  Palms braced against the counter, he leaned into the mirror he couldn’t see. He should leave. Get out now before Arlin woke. Stuart swallowed hard and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his grimy T-shirt. With his cellmate out of the way, he could travel faster, lighter. The idea appealed to him.

  He'd never been the type to kill unless he was antagonized, but he couldn't leave Arlin alive. There was no telling what the bastard would do to save his own worthless hide. Creeping back toward the bed he'd occupied, he retrieved the pistol from the fake wooden nightstand and checked it for bullets.

  A light came on, and he froze. Arlin's gaze practically burned into his skin.

  "What in the hell are you doing?" Scrawny legs emerged from underneath the leaf-patterned comforter, and sat up, his thin hair sticking up in all directions.

  "Just checking to see how many bullets we have."

  Arlin snorted and got to his feet. "Bullshit. You checked before we turned the light out. I saw you." Clearing his throat, he ambled toward the bathroom. "I guess now is the time to warn you that I've made, well, let's just call them, provisions in the unlikely event my dead body is found." He paused to look over his shoulder.

  Stuart's eyes narrowed. "What provisions?" Assessing his cellmate's demeanor, he debated whether or not to call his bluff. After all, it would be a hell of a long time before anyone found Arlin's body once he took care of it.

  That was always the nastiest part of the job-disposing of the body. He'd lost count of the many prisoners he'd stuffed into various places inside the walls of Attica, and out of all the men he'd killed, only two of the bodies had been discovered.

  Arlin scratched his upper lip before grinning. "I told Billy Chambers how to get out. I asked only one thing in return. Care to guess what that one thing was?"

  A lump took up residence in Stuart’s throat. Everyone knew about Billy Chambers. He'd transferred to Attica only a few days before Arlin and him had escaped. Word was he was legendary. He'd killed one prisoner over a serving of mashed potatoes. Chambers didn't make friends, but he had enemies by the score. Even with as much experience as he had, Stuart didn't want to be one of them.

  "I'm not so sure I believe you."

  A muscle twitched beneath Arlin's right eye. "Then call my bluff." He turned back around and held his thin arms away from his body. "Shoot me, but if Billy hasn't heard from me within three days, he's going to come looking for you. And he's very good at finding people."

  Damn. None of this was going according to plan. "You really think that guy's going to keep his word? If you do, you're dumber than you look." He tucked the pistol in the waistband of his pants. "It's almost dawn. Get your ass together. I want to be on the road within the next thirty minutes."

  Arlin smiled and disappeared into the bathroom. "Sounds good to me."

  His cackle made the hairs on the back of Stuart's neck rise. So three days it was then. Once Arlin made the call to Chambers, Stuart would wipe the smile from his face with a bullet between the eyes. And he doubted he'd feel one ounce of emotion.

  Chapter Five

  "Your cell phone is buzzing. Incessantly, I might add."

  The whiskey-toned voice opened Matt's eyes, and he was surprised to see Erin standing over him with a cup of coffee in each hand. How in the hell had he not heard his cell phone or her approach? He shifted on the sofa, putting his back against the cushions. A quick check of his watch told him he'd slept a good four hours. Apparently so soundly he couldn’t even hear his own alarm. He leaned over and switched it off.

  "I thought you could use some coffee." Erin sounded pleasant enough, but he wasn't taking any chances. Close to the end of their marriage, she could change on him in a heartbeat just like a wounded tiger, and from what he’d seen so far, that hadn’t changed much.

  "Thanks." He accepted the mug and brought it to his lips, dragging the scent of the fresh-brewed coffee into his lungs. The steaming liquid resuscitated him, the warmth sliding down his throat like a shot of whiskey. He closed his eyes on a sigh. “You still make good coffee.”

  When Erin didn’t respond, he placed the cup on the coffee table in front of him and sat up straighter. He’d slept too hard, and now the knots in his shoulder protested. With a grimace, he rolled his back forward.

  “I guess I could have given you the guest bedroom.” Erin sounded slightly guilty.

  He managed a smile before swinging his gaze toward her. For a brief moment, time stopped. He’d forgotten how good she looked in the mornings. Those long copper locks of hair swept over her shoulders, gleaming in the light of the early morning sun as it beamed through the window. Her eyes still had that sleepy look like she'd just crawled out of bed, and with her face devoid of make-up, she literally glowed. Damn.

  "Matt?"

  He snapped b
ack to the conversation. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

  "I have to go open the coffee shop in about an hour. I'd really appreciate it if I could go alone."

  His hand froze in its reach toward the mug. "So that's what this nice gesture is about?"

  Her teeth nibbled her lower lip, giving her an almost innocent look. "Not exactly, no. We’ve both been on edge since you arrived.”

  "And suddenly, you're feeling the need to make things right? Like they ever were right." Calling her bluff, he pushed himself to his feet. "You're not opening the shop today." He snatched his mug and strode past her, catching a faint scent of warm vanilla musk. The aroma tickled his nostrils, and a surge of pure lust punched him in the stomach. She still wore the same perfume after all these years, and his body reacted identically to the scent.

  He didn't have to look behind him to know Erin had followed him into the kitchen. "Of course I'm opening the shop today. My customers depend upon me." Her tone had that edgy quality that gave Matt the heads-up. She was preparing for battle.

  "I'm sure they do, but they'll just have to settle for a lower quality coffee shop this morning." He turned his head slightly and caught the gleam of anger in her eyes. Good to know he still recognized the signs.

  Seconds ticked by before Erin finally responded. "What if Stuart shows up at the shop? You believe he can find me anywhere so wouldn’t he look at my place of work first?”

  He had to give her credit for maintaining her control so far. Propping one hip against the granite-topped counter, he faced her. "And when he realizes you’re not there, he’ll find you here which would be better for everyone. Your customers will be a hell of a lot safer if they didn’t run into Stuart. And I can’t protect all of them, Erin. The less people I have to worry about the easier it will be for me to do my job.”

  A few more seconds ticked by with Erin studying the floor. When she finally responded, her tone declared war. “This is ridiculous. The coffee shop isn’t just a hobby to me. It’s my business, and I can’t just shut it down because you think Stuart might show up here.”