“Scout’s honor, it’s a thing.” She crossed her heart. “It’s an antioxidant and great for your thyroid.” She nodded, succinctly. “And it’s the first thing I’ll buy stock in when I hit it big.”
He felt a real smile coming on. “You planning on taking the publishing world by storm?” His heart swelled. For the first time since he’d met her, she was—even jokingly—contemplating a bright future.
“Yup. That, and mopping the floor with the Abernathy’s,” she rejoindered, eyes sparking.
She was moving forward, and her newfound optimism buoyed him up. “I’ll second that. And Darby, once we have Cy in jail, the sky’s the limit.”
“It’s a new feeling for me, but I’m trying to believe it.” Darby regarded him, seriously. “We can do this, right?” She made it both a statement and a question.
He reached over after parking the car in front of the restaurant and covered her hand with his. “Together, we can do just about anything.”
“Like agree on what we’re ordering?” She undid her seatbelt and got out of the car before he could help her, turning to lean back in. “Because I’m starving, and I might just want one of everything on the menu.”
“Your wish is my command.” He got out and followed her into the restaurant as she called back a litany of foods she wanted.
If only all their decisions could be made so easily.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Scrunched together in her little bed, Darby turned fitfully while Hutch did the same. It was amazing if either of them managed any shuteye, considering what they faced in less than…she turned to glance at her clock…two hours. Hutch would precede her to Arkie’s at three a.m. in his fancy car, wearing his expensive suit, lending efficacy to the wad of cash he’d use to buy scratchers.
He’d make his purchase, drive to an all-night restaurant several blocks away to hide himself and his vehicle, then return at four-thirty to hunker down in the back room with Marduk and Seth. They’d checked in with both before going to bed—who knew gods had cell phones—making sure they’d both be there at the appointed time.
Everything was set to go.
And she was damned nervous. Not for the plethora of things that could go wrong, but because this morning would be a game-changer. A roll of the dice would determine if her life transformed from losing to winning, if she’d buy Park Place or be sent directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars.
Dammit, things had to end this morning. She had to make sure Cy took their bait.
Hutch sighed and tossed again. “This is unbearable,” he huffed, wrapping his arms around her. “I’ve always hated the hours leading up to something I can’t control.”
She answered quietly, leaning her nose into his chest and sniffing. “Like what?”
He shivered. “Like dentist appointments. I hated them as a child. My stomach was always in knots for hours before I got there, and the smell when I walked in… Well, needless to say, I wasn’t the most willing patient.”
She snickered. “Funny. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a dentophobe.” She wracked her brains for a different phobia that would sound even funnier. “I would have thought, maybe…a genuphobe.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Give me a minute. Umm, genu. Genuflect. Latin root meaning knee.” He reached down beneath the covers and groped the appendage in question. “No. I’m not afraid of knees.”
She squealed. “Okay, smarty, what about hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia?”
“What?” His amazement was genuine. “You made that up.”
“No, I didn’t,” she stated slyly. “Does it make you afraid?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Perplexed maybe, but not afraid.”
“Then you don’t have it,” she giggled.
“Don’t have what?” He sounded amused.
“Fear of large words.”
He snorted, clearly enjoying the interplay. “True. I’d describe my reaction as more floccinaucinihilipilification than fear.”
She couldn’t contain her laughter. “Rendering big words unimportant, huh?” She poked him in the ribs, inching up to bite his ear lobe. “Thought you could stump me, didn’t you?”
“Stumping is not what I have in mind.”
She blew on his tender appendage and was flipped onto her back faster than she could blink. He proceeded to teach her all kinds of anatomical words while ravishing her body with his mad skills. It was much better than lying awake, worrying until it was time to get up.
Hutch finally arose and headed for the shower. She wanted to join him, but considering he had forty minutes to get ready before arriving at the convenience store, she decided to stay put. Better to let Hutch get his part of things over and done, so she could spring into action.
The sound of running water must have lulled her to sleep, because the next thing she knew, Hutch was kissing her cheek, smelling like—
“Pheww! You reek,” she coughed.
“I borrowed some of your cheap wine and splashed it over myself. I wanted to play my drunken role well, so he wouldn’t suspect.”
She pulled his head down for another kiss and some reassurance, despite the overpowering odor. “We’ve got this, you know. A few hours from now it will all be over.”
“Yeah,” he agreed wryly. “Just like the dentist. I love you.”
Without waiting for her to acknowledge his declaration, he turned and left.
She heard the apartment door close behind him and lay back, staring at the ceiling. “You idiot,” she chastised herself. “You should have said it back.” Why had the words not made it from her brain to her tongue? Was it because people she loved, died? Dumb-ass reasoning. If something happened to him without having given him the words, she’d regret it every day for the rest of her life.
“I love you,” she said into the dark, trying it out. It didn’t hurt at all. “I love you, Hutch,” she said it again. It felt really good. Gaining a whole new resolve, she rose from bed and headed to the bathroom.
Hutch didn’t like leaving Darby, but he was more than ready to get this over with. Snob that he was, he was amazed his car remained in the same condition he’d left it, in the stark lot behind Darby’s building. Even though he’d set the alarm, he’d figured someone would steal his tires or deface the paint. Maybe her neighborhood wasn’t so bad after all. He glanced over at a burned-out hulk of a refrigerator and a warped, stuffing deprived sofa sitting next to a battered dumpster. Nope. He had it right the first time.
His engine sounded loud in the dark morning hours as he turned the key and warmed up the car. Or maybe he was just hyper-tuned into everything, his nerves on edge. The wine he’d used to douse his suit, stunk up the upholstery, and he hoped the smell would come out. Not that he’d regret a moment of anything to help Darby. Hell, he’d turn his vehicle into a rolling keg if that’s what it took.
Pulling from the lot, it was a five-minute drive, but it seemed to take an interminable amount of time before he parked, haphazardly in front of the convenience store. He had to make the drunk thing look good, so he cranked the music and left the car running with the door wide open as he staggered in to meet Cy.
Happy bells tinkled as he entered. “Got whisky?” he questioned loudly, shutting the door behind him and slurring his words.
“Beer and wine,” the tall blond barked, sitting behind the counter, not looking up from his phone.
“Don’ wan’ that.” Hutch allowed himself a good look at the man who’d tormented Darby and hated him, instantly. It wasn’t just the crimes he’d committed, it was his whole, arrogant, better-than-thou attitude, and his get-out-of-my-face posture.
Hutch moved close to the counter, making sure the guy could get a good, big sniff. “Gotta have som’pin to clelabra… crebalape… celebrate. There! I said it.” He raised his hand, unsteadily, for a high five, but instead received a glare.
“It’s beer and wine or get the fuck out,” Cy snarled. “I don’t have time for your bullshit.
”
Right. Like he was so busy. Hutch bit back his anger and gave a lopsided, drunken smile. “Won a buncha money and gotta spend it.” He leaned back on his heels and pretended to lose his balance before catching himself.
Cy looked up slowly, suddenly interested. “You won some money, huh? Doing what?”
“High-stakes poker, uptown.” He gestured wildly, throwing one arm up in an arc. “Whoops!” He lurched forward, raising his head as if just catching sight of the scratch tickets. “An’ I wanna spend it. Whaddabout somma those?”
Cy shook his head and growled, but got up from the stool. “Christ, how much could a drunken idiot like you win? Make your pick, fast, and get the hell out.”
Hutch made a big show of digging his wallet from his pocket, fumbling it open on the counter and shakily extracting hundred after hundred. With each bill that emerged, Cy’s eyes grew wider.
“How much did you say you won, buddy?” His voice turned oily, friendly.
“Couple, two, four G,” he shrugged, pretending to have trouble getting it out. “Not sure, but I won, big!” After laying out twenty, crumpled hundreds, he closed up his wallet and stuffed it back into his pants. “That enough to buy me some? Thsss my lucky night, after all.”
Cy counted it slowly, stacking it in a neat pile, his hands caressing the bills, lovingly. “That’s two-thousand dollars. That’ll buy you two hundred, ten-dollar plays. That what you want?”
“My gonna win?”
Cy gave a loud laugh as he began to pull reams of tickets off the rolls. “Guaranteed buddy. You take these out to your car and scratch them, then you come back and tell me how much you won.”
“Nope. Gotta go home. Present for my girlfren… She woulnant like it if I scratched ‘em by myself.”
“Fine. You do what you have to.” He pushed a pile over the counter, scooped up the money and deposited it into the register. The smile he bestowed on Hutch was full of conceit and malice. “Good luck.”
Hutch pointed a finger in Cy’s direction after stuffing the tickets in his jacket and heading for the door. “Goo’ luck ta you. You’ll need it.” He wended a drunken path back to the door, pulled it open and swayed out.
His face grew hard as he left the store. Step one, accomplished. He glanced at his watch as he got in his car.
Now it was Darby’s turn.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Her feet ate up the familiar sidewalk, but unlike most every day for the past five years, ambient noises in the dark alleys she passed sent frissons of awareness down her spine. Her nerves were strung tight, her stomach in turmoil. She remembered what Hutch had said about his dentist visits, and commiserated.
It had been nearly an hour since Hutch’s ticket-buying spree. He’d be holed up at the diner waiting for her to call, telling him Cy had left. He’d contact Marduk and Seth, and the three would head in, lie in wait, and hope for the asshole’s return.
When the long-dormant neon sign for Arkie’s came into sight, Darby suddenly stumbled. She blinked to clear her head, but the vision persisted. She was back in her nightmares, being sucked in by the terrifying vortex. Nothing existed except her and the front door, and given a choice, she would have seized the moment and run, but her feet moved of their own volition.
A keening rose up in her throat, and when it emerged, it resembled a strangled version of Hutch’s name, and that’s when she knew. Their scheme was not going to go as planned. Despite Hutch’s assurances, his persistence, his love, shit was going to hit the fan…and she was on her own.
The draw inward became impossible to battle, and she squared her shoulders for whatever was to come.
Just as the vision had come on swiftly, it dissipated as she entered the store. Cy, sitting behind the register, looked up and sneered. “Good morning, Darb. Have a nice vacation?”
She took a deep breath and began as planned. “Yeah. It was awesome.” On automatic pilot she picked up the empty coffee pots and headed to the back to fill them, turning to taunt him before disappearing. “My new boyfriend is amazing. Handsome, caring. He bought me a lot of nice clothes, treated me to dinner, and even cooked for me.”
“Does he have a big dick, Darby?” Cy stood up, glaring her way. “Did you fuck him?”
She snorted. “What do you think? We did it on every surface in his apartment, and even up against the walls. He’s a fucking stallion.” She held her head high and strode confidently to the back. It wasn’t until the curtain closed that she began shaking.
“I can do this. I can do this,” she chanted under her breath.
She took her time. It was quiet out front. Too quiet. She wondered what Cy was doing. Darby inched over to the curtained doorway, placing her back against the wall to listen. She heard the register open, and the rustle of cash and a confident chuckle. Son-of-a-bitch! He wasn’t waiting. He was stealing the money right now. She switched both pots to one hand and scrambled in her pocket for her phone. Panting quietly, she hit the number for Hutch, her tension high as it began to ring.
Pick up. Pick up, she willed. But after six rings his voice-mail responded and her lungs nearly seized. He wasn’t answering. Something had gone horribly wrong. She blinked down at her phone and bit back a moan. Why hadn’t she gotten Marduk’s phone number? It could prove to be a fatal oversight. What the hell should she do, now?
Steeling herself, she called out to Cy. “I’m going to hit the head before I take over. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Hearing his muffled grunt of agreement, she soft-soled it to the small room, placed the pots down on the commode and tugged the door closed behind her, hit with an epiphany. Seth. She punched his number.
“Darby,” his voice sounded alert and wide awake. “I thought we weren’t meeting until four-thirty.”
She made it brief. “Cy’s making his move, now. I don’t know what happened to Hutch, but he’s not answering. He should be at the all-night diner around the corner. Find him. Bring him. I’ll try to hold Cy off until you get here.”
“Should I call the cops?”
She’d had the same thought but quickly dismissed it. “Not yet. I don’t know what he’s up to. If we get them here too fast, there might be nothing to pin on him.”
“Gotcha.” She heard wind across his phone. “I’m on the move. Three minutes to the diner and eight more to you. Don’t do anything stupid.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “Who, me? Not a chance.” She barely managed to keep her voice from catching. “But Seth? Hurry.”
Hanging up, she’d never felt so alone in her life.
She took a deep breath, opened the door and picked up the pots. Just like any normal day. She tiptoed over to the curtain, pushed it open and froze. Cy stood on the public side of the counter, a black mask pulled down over his face, hatred in his dark eyes as he turned his evil grin her way.
“Well, well. Here we are again,” he rasped, attempting to disguise his voice. Darby was having none of it.
“I know who you are, Cy. And so do a lot of other people. You’d better take off, because you’re not getting away with shit this time.”
“Oh, yeah?” he sneered. “It’s your word against mine, only it might not even be yours. After I fuck you in every way possible, I can make sure you end up brain-dead. How do you think your new boyfriend will like that?”
What could she do to protect herself from this maniac? She only needed eight minutes. Her baseball bat was behind him, behind the counter. There wasn’t a chance of reaching it.
Help me, Beletseri, she sent out into the ether. Hutch will be no good to you if I end up dead.
Instantly a vision popped into her head. A familiar snippet of her final nightmare. She looked down at the coffee pots in her hands and knew what she had to do.
Thank you, Bel.
But timing was everything.
“Did you steal money from the register?” she asked, buying time. “What did you get, rich man, a few sawbucks?”
“Joke’s on you, Darb,
” he swaggered. “Some chump was in here earlier, and dropped two grand. Today’s my lucky day. A full pocket and a happy dick.” He grabbed his crotch and postured.
Darby wanted to throw up, but that wouldn’t do her any good.
“Get that thing anywhere near me and you’ll be sorry,” she growled.
“Think you’re so tough, huh?” He laughed malevolently. “Look where it got you last time. And right now… Oh, no,” he mock trilled. “Your little bat is behind the counter.” With each word, he inched closer. She backed up until she was at the coffee station.
“Someone will come in, Cy,” she bluffed. This wasn’t a particularly busy time of morning.
“Locked the door, Darb,” he returned silkily.
She played another card. “I get it, but I bet you don’t know Arkie installed video surveillance.”
She caught his quick stutter-step, his growl.
“You lie, bitch. Arkie doesn’t deal with shit like that.”
She recalled her conversation with Hutch earlier, and it gave her strength. “You mean he’s a technophobe, Cy?”
“Yeah. That,” he responded, clearly clueless. Such a stupid douche.
“Well your technophobe uncle decided he doesn’t quite trust you, and despite his inexperience, he had a bunch of stuff put in. That means he’s already seen you take cash out of the register. You want to add sexual assault and battery to a theft charge? ‘Cuz that’s what’ll happen.”
“You’re not very good at making shit up, Darby,” he sneered. “I hope you’re a better lay.” He lunged, and at that exact moment Darby smashed both pots on the counter beside her, thrusting them with all her might into his masked face and neck as he rushed her.
His screams rent the air, but his distress didn’t slow her. She drew back and aimed again and again, gouging his hands as they grabbed for her, his arms as they flailed in her direction.
And suddenly, the door burst open.
Marduk, followed by Hutch and Seth, barreled into the room trailed by a huge group or enormous men who, if Darby hadn’t been fending off Cy, would have stopped her in her tracks.
Hutch Nightmare Men Page 24