Satan, Line One

Home > Other > Satan, Line One > Page 16
Satan, Line One Page 16

by M. J. Schiller


  “I’m okay.”

  He came a step closer. “Man. They really messed up your face. You look like shit.”

  I frowned. “Gee, thanks, Nick. You really know how to sweet talk a girl.” I grabbed my phone and opened the camera to get a look at the damage myself. “Holy shit.” I turned my head from side to side to get the full view. “You understated it.” My whole face was red and had tiny scratches. Like I was burned. “What are all these scratches from?”

  He shrugged. “The snow, I guess.”

  “Oh.” That made sense.

  “How many?”

  I stared at him blankly. “How many what?”

  “Stitches.” He pointed to the bandage on my face.

  “Oh. They said sixteen.”

  “Had any before?”

  I didn’t understand the line of questioning. Sometimes Nick was a bit of a freak. “No. Why?”

  “Then I have you beat. I had fifteen from that bike accident last summer, and seven when I was a kid and fell on some playground equipment.” He rocked back and forth looking pleased with himself.

  “I didn’t realize we were in a contest.” I shook my head. He needed to be taken down a notch or two. “Ever been in a fight?”

  He tilted his head and stared at me.

  “And I’m not counting the whole Jeffrey Lynch thing. You guys were four. That was more like a temper tantrum.”

  “Oh. Then I guess not.”

  “Then, you don’t know what it’s like to get hit by a girl using a padlock as brass knuckles.”

  He inhaled. “Is that what they had? I saw something flash.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you don’t have any broken bones?”

  “Nope. Bruised ribs, a mild concussion, and this.” I pointed to the bandage.

  A nurse entered the room and came around to the far side of the bed to check my pulse. “How are you feeling? Any more blurry vision?”

  “I’m okay. Just sore.”

  “Well, we’ll give you another round of pain meds here in a minute.” She looked at Nick pointedly as she put a blood pressure cuff on. “Visiting hours ended fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Oh, really?”

  She frowned. “I told you that when you got off the elevator and you said you only needed to use the bathroom. Then I find you in here.”

  I stifled a laugh, looking from one to the other.

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  Her frown became deeper and I felt like, if Nick pushed it more, we might hear her growl. “Well, maybe we need to check you for a concussion then, since that was only ten minutes ago.”

  He grimaced. “All right. All right.” He faced me. “Will you be back in school tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know.”

  We both looked at the nurse. “I doubt it,” she said without looking away from the tablet she was using to record things.

  “Okay, then, I’ll stop by the house, or here, wherever you are.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  The nurse folded the cuff and placed it in a basket on the wall. “I’m going to get those pain meds. I’ll be right back.” She moved to the door and held it open. She made a sweeping gesture to the hallway. “After you.”

  “Fine,” Nick huffed.

  Five minutes later, I got a text from him.

  SOMEBODY TAKES HER JOB WAY TOO SERIOUSLY HA HA LMAO

  It wasn’t a text from Nick unless it had at least one LMAO and a HA or two, followed by at least five emojis. I chuckled.

  Truthfully, I was glad everyone left. I was tired, and I wanted to think about the fight and worry about what would have happened if that teacher didn’t show. I fell asleep. When I woke, I sensed something. Did I hear a noise? I tensed, listening. Another rustle of movement had me flipping over. It was dark, but I had no trouble making out the figure.

  Zack stepped forward. My heart squeezed. Happiness and warmth flooded through me, battling a deep sadness for the head of the line. This was more painful than anything those girls did. I loved him. I didn’t think I could ever stop loving him. “Zoe. How are you doing?”

  I snagged my phone, which was in the bed with me. I blinked. “Zack. It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

  “I had to see you.”

  A pregnant pause settled between us. “Well, you’ve seen me, so go.” I flipped over. I didn’t want him to see the tears threatening.

  “Zoe, please.”

  I needed him gone. I pushed to a sitting position and turned my heartache and fury on him. I had to force my voice over a lump in my throat and my words sounded choked. “I’m not your problem anymore, Zack.” I reached back to steady myself, the head rush a little much for me, coupled with the pressure I put on my ribs in sitting.

  His face couldn’t hide his misery, and I fought the urge to take what I’d said back. The yearning to somehow throw my arms around him and feel him next to me was almost unbearable.

  Why are you doing this to me? A tear escaped, then another. The salt stung all those miniscule cuts as they slid down my face. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it. He hung his head.

  “Zoe, we’ve been friends for so long. Can’t we just—”

  “No!” I screamed at him. Then, remembering where we are, I lowered my volume, but my words still came out with the same energy and venom as before. “No, we ‘can’t just.’ Or at least I can’t just. It—” My voice cracked. I looked away, then back. My head felt like it was going to explode and the weight of my body seemed too heavy to bear. I slid back into the bed, tucking the blankets over my shoulder as I rolled away from him. I closed my eyes, squeezing out more tears.

  A soft, bouncing noise behind me could have been the door settling closed. I listened some more, then took a chance and rolled over. I was alone. I put my hands over my face and sobbed uncontrollably.

  Chapter 16

  Dani

  The loud rattle of vibrating phone on hardwood woke me. The screen glowed, illuminating the room more than desired. Like a Pavlovian response, my heart rated accelerated. A phone call in the middle of the night was never good news. Tucker leaped out of bed, no doubt wanting to catch the phone before it woke me.

  “Hello?”

  “Is it Scott?” I asked in a panic. Had it been Tabby’s grandparents—who she was currently visiting in Bloomington—they would have asked for me. Everyone else was safely under the roof, but Scott was spending the night at his friend Tim’s.

  Tucker turned around to face me. “Yes, this is Tucker McCord.” He smiled to reassure me, but seconds later his face became concerned. “How much damage?”

  Damage? What could be damaged?

  “Yes. Yes, sir. I’ll be right there.”

  Sir? Who would Tucker be calling sir? He hit the end button. “What is it?”

  “The office,” he searched around. “Someone broke in.”

  “Broke into a law firm? What did they hope to gain? Secret micro-fiche?”

  “Probably.” He snatched a pair of jeans from on top of the trunk at the end of our bed.

  “You have secret micro-fiche?”

  He smiled as he zipped. He was teasing me. “Loads of it.”

  “Hmm.” I watched him get dressed, admiring his form and already hoping he would wake me when he got home so I could enjoy that form a little more. “Was that the police?”

  “Yup.” Again his gaze traveled about the room. He walked around to the other side of the bed and bent to retrieve the shirt he’d worn earlier. “You go back to sleep, babe.”

  “Are you sure? I could come with you?”

  “No. No need for us both to be tired and grumpy tomorrow.” He got socks out of the dresser and came to sit beside me. I rubbed my hand over the thigh nearest me, loving the way his faded blue jeans felt, as he slipped his socks on.

  “They damaged the door?”

  He frowned, stopping his motions for a second. “Apparently a lot of damage was done. To one office. Mine.”

  “Why would some
one do that?”

  He shrugged then stood, scanning the vicinity.

  “Your shoes are by the door,” I offered.

  He came over and bent to give me a kiss. He rubbed my shoulders. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t like the thought of him leaving in the middle of the night. “Be careful.”

  “I will. The police are meeting me there, so I’ll be fine.” He paused in the doorway. “See ya.” Then he was gone.

  I tucked the covers around my shoulder. I liked to sleep encased in the cocoon of my blankets, where Tucker only required a sheet. After a few minutes, I flipped over, and moved closer to his side of the bed. The sheets were still warm from his body. I let that heat lure me to sleep.

  It could have been a few minutes later, it could have been hours, but it was still dark. Did I hear something, or was I letting my imagination frighten me because Tucker was gone? Another thud confirmed it. Zoe must be awake. She’d probably heard the phone. I tried to go back to sleep, but this time I couldn’t. A peal of thunder shook the windows in the old home. Or had the thunder wakened me? With a sigh, I got out of bed, snatching my robe from the trunk as I headed to the window. I threw it around my shoulders and cinched the waist as I crossed the room. The rain was drilling the pavement and water was already rushing along the street. Or had it been raining for a while? Thinking about Tucker being caught in it, I headed downstairs, fighting back yawns.

  I was awake anyway, so maybe I could get some work done. But what work could I do without waking Myles? I pushed through the swinging kitchen door. I immediately noticed the glass glittering in the light from above the kitchen sink. It was scattered on the counter, and across the floor and the curtain was blowing in. A short, but thick, wet branch lay against our island, but I didn’t think there were any trees in the near vicinity.

  “Mrs. McCord, I presume.”

  I jumped and whirled. A scrawny man stepped out from the shadowy corner behind the door.

  “Just the woman I was looking for.”

  My heart beat so hard it hurt. Then I recognized him. The man from the bar.

  Although I tried to act like I wasn’t scared, my voice sounded shaky when I asked, “Who are you? What are you doing here?” I put a hand on the island to steady myself.

  Zoe and Myles are upstairs.

  I prayed they wouldn’t awaken.

  He stepped forward, and I moved back an equal distance, my hands shaking. Pushing thin, wet hair back, he asked, “What? You don’t recognize me?”

  I shook my head.

  He inched closer and I moved away until the sharp stab of the countertop jabbed me in my back. I clutched it with my hands, trying to assess escape paths and possible weapons. He’d catch me if I tried for the door, and I wouldn’t leave the kids. But if I stalled long enough, maybe Tucker would get back. I lunged to my left, but he clutched me with surprisingly strong bony fingers. I kicked and tried to use my elbows to jab at him, but he trapped me so tightly against his body my shots were ineffectual. He lifted me off my feet and positioned me back against the cabinets. He released his hold on me, but used his body to pin me in place, his hands now grasping the counter on either side of me.

  His breath on my neck made hairs raise. “I think I would have made more of an impression on you. Or at least my bumper would have.” He chuckled coarsely.

  Images flashed through my mind. A horn blowing. Pain. His face. Only an instant’s glimpse of him behind the wheel, leaning forward, the sharp angles of his face hardened by the intensity of his actions. I didn’t even remember seeing the driver. I closed my eyes and a few tears squeezed out. It pissed me off. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making me cry.

  My voice came out weak at first. “Why? What did I do to you?”

  “Oh, nothing. You did nothing to me.” Pressing his weight against me more, he let go of the counter with one hand and brought it to my hair, sliding it along its length. My stomach lurched. “It’s that asshole husband of yours I have the beef with.”

  I was assessing the odds of squeezing out of his hold but my brain stalled. “Tucker?” Tucker had said something about a client.

  “Yeah.” He continued to play with my hair. “I had a lot of time to think about ol’ Tucker when I was in prison. Thinking of ways to torture him was my favorite form of entertainment.” He laid his hand across my throat, and when I flinched, he tightened his fingers. “Mmm.” He opened his hand and brought it lower, over the skin above the collar of my nightgown, my robe having come untied somehow. He kept dropping it slowly lower, his breathing heavier. I struggled against him and his hand slid under the fabric. I went nuts, pushing, and thrashing with everything I had, but it only served to give him more room to glide his hand over my breast. “I think I found myself a new form of entertainment.” He let go of the counter with his other hand and tried to grab me between my legs, but the fabric was tight and wouldn’t allow him to. This seemed to irritate him, and the muscles in his arms tightened, constricting like a boa’s. “Huh?” He jerked me against him more. “Huh? You like that Mrs. Tucker McCord?” he spat the name out like venom.

  “Stop!”

  My scream was answered by one from Myles. This…enemy of Tucker’s, whipped his hand out of my bodice and clutched my neck again. “Who’s up there?”

  I shook my head. “No one.” It was ridiculous to deny it. The evidence was bawling his head off above us.

  Oh, my God! Zoe’s going to wake up.

  The thought of him touching her made bile rise in my throat. He let go of my neck, and I gasped for air. Taking a handful of my hair, he yanked my head around so his face was lying against mine. “Huh? Who’s up there?”

  “No one.” A sob escaped. I was losing it. I fought to keep my wits about me.

  “Well,” he drawled. “You seem mighty worried for ‘no one’ being upstairs.” The pressure on my scalp lessened, then fingers dug into my upper right arm. “Why don’t we go and see who’s there.”

  “No!” When he moved me away from the cabinets, I strained forward, getting my hands on the edge of the counter. I scrambled to get a hold, but he yanked me away. He was unnaturally strong for a man of his build. I tried to plant my feet, but they slid on the tile, wet from the rain blowing in the window and dripping from his clothes.

  “No! Please!”

  He dragged me through the broken glass, the shards grinding into my skin.

  “Damn it. Settle down.”

  I grabbed at the island as we went by and was able to lock my fingers around an end, halting our progress momentarily. His hand banged against the table and the distinct sound of a knife being drawn from the block warned me seconds before he drove one into the wood top of our island, inches from my hand. He shifted to pin me against the base and switched his right hand from my arm, to my left shoulder, cutting off my airway with his arm.

  “Let’s quit messing around here, Mrs. McCord.”

  I brought my chin to my chest, then threw my head back as hard as I could. He cursed, and I broke free. My head rang, and I was panting, trying to bring air into my lungs, as I stumbled away. Something warm and wet ran down the back of my neck. I got to the kitchen door before he snagged me, spun me around, and threw me against the wall. He snarled at me. Blood dripped from his nostrils, and a cut was opened on the bridge of his nose, leaving a red trail in its wake. Myles’ cries stopped abruptly and an eerie calm descended.

  Zoe must have gotten him out of his crib. Or maybe he stopped on his own.

  I placed my hope in the latter, knowing the likelihood was the former was the correct assessment.

  Oh, God, Zoe. Please take the baby and get out of the house.

  The steps creaked. Our gazes connected.

  “Zoe! Get out! Get out of the house!”

  Zoe

  If I’d only reacted more quickly. But her cry was so unexpected. And my brain wasn’t totally awake.

  He came out of the kitchen like he wa
s going for a stroll, stepping over something as he did so. He looked like a nightmare, blood running down his face from the bridge of his nose. He held a gun loosely in his hand.

  I froze. I was closer to the door than he was, but I had the baby. He pointed the gun at us.

  “Now come on. Don’t go trying to think you’re going to escape or I’ll have to beat the shit out of you like I did your ma.”

  Dani? She’s hurt?

  But she wasn’t making a sound. I still couldn’t move.

  “I’ve never taken target practice on a baby.”

  I inhaled sharply and put my hand on the back of Myles’ soft, sweet head.

  “But you know what they say.” His smile made my skin crawl. “There’s a first for everything.” When I still didn’t move, he screamed, “Get over here!”

  I jumped, and began to slowly come down the stairs, still trying to determine whether I could beat him to the door. But it would be locked at this time of night. And a bullet was faster than all of us.

  “Faster!”

  I scrambled the last several steps. “Who are you?”

  He tapped his pistol on the back of one of our dining room chairs.

  “Sit.”

  I didn’t want to get any closer to the creep. The way his gaze traveled along my body, while I was standing there in one of Zack’s old shirts, holding Myles, was disturbing. But it wasn’t like I had a shitload of choices. I forced my feet forward. When I was passing the bassinet, Stringy Hair waved his gun in its direction.

  “Nah. Put the baby in that crib thing.”

  I turned and bent over the edge, lowering him to the mattress. He was wide awake, but quiet.

  I’m glad you don’t have a clue, Myles.

  Realizing my shirt was probably rising in the back, and the creeper was no doubt taking in the view, I straightened quickly. When I turned, his gaze was rising from looking at me. His eyes lit up and his voice was husky when he talked.

  “Come on over here, now.”

  I shuddered with each step closer. He yanked the chair out and when I got near, he grabbed my shoulder and forced me into the seat.

 

‹ Prev