by Mandy Magro
Troy began to march towards her, determination in his long, measured strides. With her breath hitching in her throat, Matilda assessed whether she had time to flee. She felt like a deer in headlights with the bright glow of the bulb above her. She screamed for help, but knew it was fruitless at this time of the night—the streets were deserted.
The world spun beneath her and nausea gripped her like clenched fists. Her throat tightened to the point of feeling like she couldn’t breathe and she began to gasp for air as an overwhelming sensation of claustrophobia washed over her. Her survival instincts were screaming that she had to get out of there. But unlike her last encounter with Troy at Shadow Creek Station, this time there was nowhere to run or hide and she had nothing to defend herself with. Huddling further into the corner of the phone booth she wedged the umbrella in the door so it wouldn’t open easily, and then pressed her feet hard up against it to try to stop him from being able to open it. At the very least it might buy her some time until Ryan got here. It was all she could do. As terrified as she was, and as much as she believed she wouldn’t survive Troy’s wrath this time round, staying here and fighting was her only choice and her only hope. She would fight with everything she had until he stole her last breath from her.
The phone went dead. She had said Troy’s name just before he’d been cut off. Had he returned to town to kill Tilly? Dread filled Ryan’s stomach. In frustration he slammed his fist into the dash, oblivious to the drops of blood beading on his knuckles. He mentally ticked off the distance between here and town, the tightness in his chest building. Desperate to reach Tilly before it was too late, he tried to push the accelerator further into the floor but it was already flat. With a T intersection fast approaching he hit the brakes, but the wet road provided no grip and he overshot the mark. The screech of tortured rubber filled the silent night. He skidded across the bitumen and through the scrub on the opposite side of the road. Years of driving heavy machinery armed him with the skills to regain control of the four-wheel drive before slamming into the trunk of a massive gum tree, its limbs scraping the roof of the Landcruiser as he missed it by a whisker. That was damn close. Too close. He knew he should slow down, but fear was driving him into a frenzy.
Spinning the four-wheel drive around and then yanking the steering wheel to the left, the back-end fishtailed on the loose gravel. Momentum sent the vehicle up on two wheels for a split-second before bouncing back down to grip the bitumen of the main road into town. Ryan didn’t dwell on the realisation he’d just defied death. He had no fear of dying; all he cared about was saving Matilda from it. With bloody knuckles he gripped the steering wheel tighter, the engine steaming in protest beneath the rattling bonnet as he hammered down the deserted highway.
Regan’s hacked body lying in a pool of blood flashed before his eyes.
His chest burned hot with grief.
The anguish he’d felt as he’d crumbled to his knees to hug her limp body almost overwhelmed him as it came back into his mind, but he fought it off.
He couldn’t bear the thought of finding Matilda the same way.
He swallowed the bitter possibility as his jaw and heart tightened.
What would he do if he got there and it was too late?
Red fury swarmed throughout him.
Remembering he had used his shotgun a few days ago, to scare a few hungry roos away from his fruit trees, he quickly felt down the side of his seat, reassured when his hand came down upon the cold metal of the barrel. Just like the last time, he wasn’t afraid to use it if it came to it. To hell with the law, he’d live his days out in prison to save Tilly’s life.
Jim, he needed to ring Jim.
Glancing at his mobile while trying to stay on the road he searched for the police station’s number. It would be closed but the calls would be directed to whoever was on duty, and hopefully that was Jim. Finally finding it he pressed call.
Jim’s sleepy voice answered in four rings. ‘Moonstone Valley police, Sergeant Fuller speaking.’
‘Jim, it’s Ryan … Troy’s back in town and he’s after Tilly.’
‘Ryan, how do you know. Where are you?’ All traces of sleepiness had left Jim’s voice.
Ryan could hear a cupboard door rattling in the background. ‘I don’t have time to explain, but please, Tilly’s at that old phone booth down the road from the pub. Can you get there ASAP? I’m still about four minutes away.’
‘I’m getting dressed as we speak and then I’ll be on my way.’
‘Good.’
‘And, Ryan.’
‘Yep.’
‘Promise me you won’t do anything stupid if you get there before I do.’
Ryan wasn’t promising a damn thing. ‘See you there, Jim.’
Pressing end and throwing his mobile onto the dash, Ryan focused on the road, thankful the rain had eased off. Over the top of the hill the lights of town reached into the black sky, giving him hope that very soon he would be by Tilly’s side.
Hang on, Til, I’m almost there, baby …
CHAPTER
25
Time seemed to tick by so slowly it almost felt as if it were standing still for Matilda as she watched Troy approach. He kept nervously glancing about, obviously keeping an eye out for any passers-by, which Matilda knew was fairly unlikely this time of the night. As much as she didn’t want to bring Ryan into her dramas, this was deadly serious and he was her only hope—she prayed with all she had that he got here soon. With the size of Troy’s chosen weapon, she knew he meant business. Her life was on the line. She could see the sharp outlines of his facial features now, and the closer he got to her the more frantic her heartbeats became. Her chest and throat tightened so much that she struggled to draw in a breath. Needing to calm herself before a panic attack took hold she diverted her attention. Squinting from the glare she looked up at the moths circling the overhead light, as she told herself over and over it was going to be okay—not that she believed a damn word.
Blinking back tears she glanced up as he stopped and stood at the door of the phone booth—the only thing separating them was a graffiti-covered sheet of cracked old glass. Tall and broad shouldered, although at the same time gaunt and looking pale, his strained expression was one of pure madness as he glowered down at her. It was as if he was manic, and she felt like prey being assessed by a predator. Gathering some courage she met eyes that showed an emptiness she could only compare to those of a dead person. Bile rose in her throat with the thought. She assumed she had seen him at his worst the day she’d run, but the malevolence in his expression was telling her otherwise and it chilled her to the very core.
She watched with bated breath as he pushed against the door, frustration twisting his features while he grunted and groaned, shoving as hard as he could. The leverage Matilda had with her feet up and her back against one of the glass walls, and with the umbrella acting as a barricade, she was making it impossible for him to open it.
‘Very clever, Matilda.’ Troy flashed her a crooked smile, revealing teeth that looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned for a week. ‘I’ve been watching you these past few days, waiting for the right moment to make you pay for what you did to me. You should have stayed indoors—at this time of the night you never know what weirdos you might run into.’ He tutted and shook his head. ‘My patience has paid off, letting us meet like this, and unlike last time I have a much better knife, don’t you think?’ He made sure to show off the weapon by holding it up and smacking it against the glass. ‘It is going to come in very handy tonight, I’m sure.’
Trembling, Matilda remained silent as she looked for the tell-tale signs of crystal meth abuse—the burn marks on his fingers and the acne-looking marks on his face alerting her that her suspicions were right. She got a whiff of his body odour—similar to astringent ammonia mixed with stale alcohol. It made her want to gag.
‘Cat got your tongue, Matilda, or are you just in one of them girly moods where you don’t want to talk to me?’ His words sl
urring a little, Troy’s gaze flicked to the curves of her breasts beneath the cotton of her black work t-shirt. ‘God, I’ve missed those babies like you wouldn’t believe.’ He licked his lips and then brought his gaze back to hers. ‘Have you missed me like I’ve missed you, Matilda?’
Matilda wasn’t saying a word. How she ever fell for someone with so much darkness in his heart was beyond her. It just went to show that she was attracted to the sort of man she so sadly thought she deserved. Then Ryan Hunter waltzed into her life like her knight in shining armour, showing her what real, unconditional love felt like, and proving time and time again that life could be beautiful.
‘Choosing the right to stay silent, huh?’ Troy sniggered and then spat on the ground near his boots. ‘Righto then, I’ll do all the talking if you don’t want to. Now, where do I start …’ He rested the thirtycentimetre blade against his cheek, heaved in a massive breath and then blew it out noisily. ‘Oh, I know.’ He grinned sarcastically and smacked his forehead against the glass, leaving it resting there as his eyes bored into her. ‘I warned you about leaving me, you little bitch, and if that’s not bad enough, you stole my truck to do it, which meant I had to get the police involved. You know how much I hate dealing with pigs so why go and do something stupid like that, huh?’
Wide eyed and trembling, Matilda stared at him.
He punched the glass. ‘Answer me, goddamn it.’
‘I panicked …’ she stuttered. ‘I thought I’d killed you and I wasn’t sticking around to find out.’
Why was she explaining herself to him? Habit? Fear? He deserved nothing from her. The bastard.
Troy looked as if she’d just slapped him in the face. He took a step back. ‘Yeah, well, you should have finished the job before running off like the weakling you are because I’m going to finish you off, like I promised.’ He laughed mockingly. ‘I’m a noble kind of bloke. I uphold my end of a bargain.’
Feeling like a caged animal Matilda felt a rush of anger engulf her. She sat up a little straighter as her hands balled into fists. ‘You’re the weakling, Troy. You’re nowhere near noble. In my eyes you’re a pathetic excuse for a man.’ Having never verbally faced up to him for fear of being struck, or worse, she felt a wild rush of power with her harsh words. But the look of pure hatred in his eyes almost stole the feeling away as soon as it had arrived. Damn him, she wasn’t giving in without a fight, and without Troy hearing some home truths. Also, the longer she could keep him talking the more chance she had of Ryan getting to her.
‘How dare you speak to me like that, you little tramp.’ He snarled through clenched teeth, his spittle hitting the glass. ‘I should have gotten rid of you ages ago, before you had a chance to ruin my life.’
‘How did I ruin your life, Troy?’
‘How did you ruin my life?’ He looked at her as if she were stupid. ‘The owners fired me because of all the drama you caused taking off like that. Now I have no place to work and no place to live, and no money. On top of that the goddamn Landcruiser’s had it.’
‘So where did you get the car then, if you don’t have any money?’
‘Where do you think? I stole it.’
‘Should have guessed. And where do you get the money for the booze you’re obviously drinking?’
‘I have my ways to get what I want, when I want it, Matilda. You of all people should know that.’
‘It’s not my fault you were fired, Troy—I’m not copping the blame for your problems any longer. I can speak to you however I want. You don’t own me anymore … I’m with somebody else now.’ Yes, it was a big fat lie, but she didn’t care.
‘Really? You’ve moved on that quickly, hey?’
‘I sure have, and he’s so much more of a man than you will ever be.’ There was venom in her words now. She was tired of being bullied by this violent man. Also, the glass door separating them helped her, gave her courage—she was usually within his reach and was never game to speak up because of it.
Taking a noisy breath Troy shook his head. He was so angry his eyes were almost bulging out of his head and he was breathing like a mickey bull about to attack. ‘Say sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For cheating on me.’
‘I’m not saying sorry. I’m not with you anymore, so how can I be cheating on you?’
‘Oh Tilly, Tilly, Tilly …’ He closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘When are you ever going to accept that you’re mine forever?’ He clucked his tongue like she was a naughty child. ‘Trust me, you’ll be saying sorry for everything you’ve done, because when I get my hands on you you’re gonna be begging for mercy.’
‘Think whatever you want … I’m never going to apologise to you.’
Slamming his palm against the door it rattled violently. Then, spitting on the glass he sneered at her. ‘Open the goddamn door, Matilda, and I might be nice to you.’
‘No, you won’t. You don’t know the meaning of the word.’ She shook her head. ‘As if I’m going to make this easy for you by welcoming you in.’
‘I’ll smash the fucking thing in if I have to.’
She said nothing as she pressed her feet against the glass even harder, at the same time worried she might push them straight through.
He shrugged as he scaped the huge blade of the cane knife against the side of the dirty glass, where there was a large crack already. ‘Have it your way then, Sugarplum.’
Matilda shuddered at hearing his pet name for her—she hated it and he knew it. He only ever called her that when he wanted sex, or when he was itching to have a fight with her. The thought of him laying one finger on her made her skin crawl as if a million fire ants were upon her.
Stepping to the side he lifted his boot and that’s when Matilda remembered he wore steel-caps. She knew the pain such boots could cause from the times he had lashed out and kicked her.
Squeezing her eyes shut and bringing her arms up to shield her face she cried out as the loud crash of shattering glass stole every last bit of hope she’d had. Pain shot through her legs as razor-sharp shards pierced her skin. Before she’d even had a chance to open her eyes Troy had her by the ponytail. She reached up to try to wrangle herself free of his vice-like grip, but to no avail. Dragged like a rag doll across the shattered glass she cried out in pain as it sliced into her back, arms and legs. How badly, she wasn’t sure, the adrenaline coursing throughout her body masking any pain. She tried to bear some of her weight by scrambling across the ground, fearing that Troy was going to rip her ponytail clean off her head as he continued to pull her across the grass.
Out of the glare of the streetlights and obscured by one of the many shadows thrown across the park by the towering trees, Troy pulled her to her knees then reefed her head backwards. Already terrified, her fear heightened even more when she felt the long blade of the machete digging into the flesh of her throat. It brought her right back to the day he’d pressed the blade of his flick-knife in the exact spot. The day she had so stupidly thought she could run from him.
He glared down at her, the corners of his lips curled ever so slightly into a menacing smirk. ‘I really want to slash this pretty throat of yours so I can watch the life draining from you, but then again I want to have my way with you one more time before I do. Hmm, what to do?’ He tipped his head to the side and laughed callously. ‘Actually, you know what, I reckon doing both at the same time might be fun. What do you think, Sugarplum?’
Sheer terror rendered her speechless. With her head in line with his hips she watched as his jeans strained in the crotch—the sight sickening her. He was going to rape her and then kill her. She began to silently pray that Troy would just kill her now and put her out of her misery. She would rather die than have him molest her.
Keeping the knife pressed up against her throat, Troy used his free hand to unbutton his jeans. When he started to pull the zip down Matilda closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of watching him do this do her. She needed to take hersel
f away to another time and place.
‘Pull your skirt up, Sugarplum.’
Matilda refused to follow his orders. He was going to kill her anyway so why succumb to his demands?
The screeching of tyres was quickly followed by a flash of headlights.
Matilda felt the fire of hope fill her belly.
Troy swore beneath his breath. ‘Keep your trap shut. If you scream I’ll kill you.’
A car door slammed. Matilda heard heavy footfalls as torchlight bounced over the surrounds.
And then it was upon them.
‘Let her go, you lowlife bastard.’
Ryan’s deep demanding voice was a godsend.
Troy grinned like the madman he was. ‘Make me.’
‘Don’t try me, because I will gladly make you, you son of a bitch.’
Gazing out of the corner of her eyes, Matilda felt every last bit of air whoosh out of her lungs when Ryan raised a shotgun. Looking through the scope and with his finger on the trigger, he stood confident and ready to shoot. Matilda knew that if Ryan killed Troy without provocation, he’d spend the rest of his life in jail, especially after being tried for his brother-in-law’s murder only five months ago.
Please God, no …
Troy finally let go of her ponytail, pulled the machete from her throat, and then raising his hands in the air he took a few steps backwards. ‘All right, mate, I was only having a bit of fun. No need to get so fucking serious.’
‘Don’t “mate” me.’ Ryan waved the gun at him. ‘Now back the hell away from her, but don’t be going anywhere because you’ve got some explaining to do to the cops.’
Troy took a few more steps back, and then in a split second made a mad dash for the nearby scrub, vanishing in seconds.
Pointing the gun towards the scrub Ryan held his firing stance.
‘Please, Ryan, don’t, he’s not worth going to jail for.’ Matilda was sobbing, her turbulent emotions and fears making it impossible for her to move.