by Jen Talty
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.” He dragged her down the long windy driveway, past five houses until he stopped in front of a massive log cabin overlooking the lake.
A shadow immerged from the porch. “It’s unlocked,” a deep dark voice said as the silhouette moved down the steps.
Wendell handed the man an envelope, then guided her up the stairs.
She wanted to scream, but thought that might cause a chain reaction that would actually land her dead.
Two scenarios raced through her brain. Either Wendell had really fallen off his rocker and planned on murdering her, in which case, if she played her cards right, she might survive. But if he managed to hire some kind of hit man in the last hour…well, that could be a different story.
Either way, she had to buy some time.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Not sure that will be possible.”
The wood creaked from their combined weight. She stumbled on the last step. The wind kicked up, sending moist, humid air across her skin. The sky darkened, as clouds covered the stars that normally light up the night sky. A clap of thunder rumbled in the background.
The front door clicked open and he shoved her inside.
“I can’t see,” she whispered.
A few seconds later, a small light glimmered.
Wendell pulled her into what appeared to be a family room. He pushed her onto the sofa.
“What now?” She breathed deeply through her nose, letting it out in a slow exhale through her mouth.
“We wait for the man who will be terminating you, making sure that Tristan is blamed, securing that both of you will get the fuck out of my way.”
She swallowed a gasp. Even the sounds of crickets on a cool summer eve’s couldn’t calm her nerves.
Another roll of thunder as the night sky lit up with a few bolts of lightning. A tap at the door made her jump.
“Do you have the money?” a dark voice asked. It wasn’t the same voice as the man who let them into the house.
“I do,” Wendell said. “But how do I know you’re going to go through with it and not just run off with my money?”
“You don’t,” the man said. His tall shadow hovering over Wendell. “Give me the money, leave, and never look back.”
Brooke tried to swallow, but her dry throat made it impossible. She blinked, hoping she’d wake from this bad dream because no way could this be real. This shit happened in movies, not to her. She nearly laughed at the absurd thought.
Wendell handed the man something, then walked out the front door, slamming it shut.
“Hello there little lady. Ready to get this party started?”
Tristan eased from Jared’s truck, quietly closing the car door, eyeing two unmarked cars parked at the top of the street, still a good three quarters of a mile from his parent’s cottage.
He followed Jared toward the closest car, noticing a SWAT van further down the road. He swallowed his shock. SWAT didn’t come out for a ‘possible’ abduction.
An officer from the Lake Placid Police Department greeted them. “Which one of you is Tristan?”
“That’s me.” Tristan held up his badge.
“I’m detective Holster. Everyone calls me Holes.” The officer offered his hand. “We’ve got three people inside your house.”
“Three?” Jared questioned.
Holes nodded.
“Why is SWAT here?” Tristan asked.
“We got a tip that Richie Rayburn was in the area,” Holes said.
“He’s suspected of being involved in a murder in Lake George,” Jared added, scratching the back of his neck.
“He’s a person of interest in at least a half a dozen murders in two states. Hired hit man for the rich. That’s what the FBI calls him.” Holes waved over another man.
“Wonderful,” Tristan muttered. He stood at the top of the hill, staring down into the dark night, not even being able to see his parent’s cabin. If it were a clear night, the moon and stars would glow across the lake, framing at least the porch.
But not tonight.
“We’ve got movement,” Holes said, with one hand to his ear. “One person leaving the house.”
“Who?” Tristan continued to stare down the street. “And did your men eye everyone that went in the house?”
“We don’t know who just yet, but my men followed Rayburn to this area where he hung out in a patch of trees next to your house. They watched someone open the door for a man and a woman, who entered. Then Rayburn went in.”
“Where’d the man go who opened the door?” Tristan tried to recall everything about Rayburn and the crimes he was suspected of, which included rape and torture. Not your standard hit man. He liked to play with his victims before killing them. And that he liked to torture them slowly, watching them suffer.
“He went to a house on the next street over. I’ve got a man knocking on his door to question him,” Holes said.
“That could be someone in the Bower family. They live here year-round and some people give them their keys. My parents used to, but then started using a service.” Tristan realized how eerily calm his pulse had become in the last few moments. His mind laser focused. He also sensed Brooke’s mind was too. That had to be a good sign. “I know that house inside and out. I can get in the back door off the kitchen.”
“We’ll send in our guys. You can explain the layout,” Holes said.
Tristan shook his head. “We’ve got a better shot at saving Brooke if I go in with some of your team members as back-up.” Tristan pointed down the road. “The cabin right next to mine has a high roof. From it, you get a bird’s eye view of my family room and den. On the back side of the house, if you put a couple of snipers in the trees, you’ve got access to three of the five bedrooms.”
“Still a lot of house that isn’t covered.” Holes put his hand to his ear. “Time to roll. Put people in the trees to the west and the house to the east. Sergeant Reid will explain the rest.”
Tristan took two steps when Holes put his hand up.
“The neighbor was paid ten grand in cash to let Wendell in. Also, Wendell just got into his car.”
Tristan rested his hand on the butt of his weapon. “I want a few words with the asshole.”
“That I’m not signing off on.” Holes pointed to the SWAT van. “You work with SWAT and get in there now. Jared and I’ll talk to Wendell.”
“I can live with that.” Tristan jogged toward the SWAT team, who were already heading in different directions. Someone tossed him a wire and a bullet proof vest.
“We’re on instructions to follow your lead.”
Tristan removed his weapon from its holster. “Hold on babe, I’m coming.”
13
Brooke sat on the sofa, hands bound in her lap, staring up into the eyes of a beast. He had to be over six-foot-four and the width of his shoulders the size of a small car. He smiled, which looked more like a sneer and not pleasant at all. Two prominent scars lined his right cheek just under his eye.
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, forcing the sense of dread deep inside. She needed to hold onto hope. She made herself believe that she could feel Tristan close by and that he had a plan to save her from whatever vile creature Wendell had sent to kill her.
“I was paid extra not to toy with you too much.”
She had no idea what that meant, and wasn’t about to ask.
“It’s going to be hard for me, especially with such a beautiful woman as yourself.” He stepped closer, reaching toward her face.
She jerked back, feeling his sick, twisted desire to hurt people.
“I think it would be alright if I put a little cut right in that swollen cheek.” He traced it with his thumb.
She tried to turn away, pushing her head all the way into the sofa cushions. His touch sent her stomach on a roll, churning up more bile. She gagged.
“Quiet one, aren’t you?” He stepped back, lifting a box from the fl
oor, and placed it on the coffee table. “That’s okay, baby. I’m going to make you scream for daddy.”
Overwhelming fear engulfed her body. Her pulse beat so fast she felt as though it might bust right out of her chest. Eyeing the door, she bolted up right. She had to try to run. Something hard circled her stomach, stopping her dead in her tracks. Gasping for air, she kicked and screamed as her body slammed against the sofa.
“Trying to run just gives me a hard on.”
The beast grabbed his crotch and groaned.
Her eyes went wide as he held up a large knife. Drawing his forefinger across the sharp edge, he smiled. “Your friend didn’t really care how I killed you, so long as I make this place look like a struggle went on, then dumped your body where no one could find it.”
“How much did he pay you?” She adjusted herself to a sitting position, doing her best not to hyperventilate.
“Now why would I tell you that?” He reached into his pocket and pulled a lighter. Holding the knife over the flame, he heated the metal.
“Because whatever it was, I can double it if you let me go.”
The beast laughed, tossing his back. The noise echoed across the room like a hyena.
“He’s my cousin.” Brooke thought maybe keeping the beast talking might at least slow down the process of death by hot knife long enough for Tristan to find her. “He wants me dead because he doesn’t want to have to share the family fortune.”
The beast let the flame flicker out. “As tempting as that is, you’ve seen my face.”
“So, has he.”
“Valid point, but he needs you gone and I don’t need the money.” He flicked the lighter and ran the blade through the flame as he stepped over the coffee table. “Besides, I’ll enjoying killing you so much more than that little prick.”
She scooted to the end of the sofa. “My boyfriend’s a State Trooper. You won’t get away with this.”
“Oh, but sweetheart, I already have. More than once.” He reached down and yanked her to her feet.
She tried to run again, but he held her neck, lifting her off the ground with one hand. Clutching his wrists, she kicked and squirmed, trying to breathe, but the crushing of his fingers against her neck made it impossible. The room spun in a vicious blur.
“Oh no, baby. Not yet.”
“Put the knife down and step away from the lady,” a voice that sounded like Tristan said.
Delusional. The lack of oxygen, even for a few seconds made her hallucinate. She blinked a few times, trying to gain focus. Her hands clutched the beast’s massive forearm. A sharp sting slipped across her cheek.
“I will do no such thing,” the beast said, pressing the knife into her neck, the hot metal sizzled against her skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the room like a barbeque.
A figure standing in front of her slowly came into focus.
“Tristan?” she whispered. Her knees buckled, but the beast held her up.
“This place is surrounded. If you want to walk out of this place alive, you’ll put the knife down and step away from the lady.” Tristan held a gun in both hands, pointing it at her and the Beast. His eyes didn’t seem to look at her, but she knew she consumed his thoughts.
“I’m walking out of here alive, with her.”
She let out a shrill as he pressed the knife harder, pinching her skin.
“That’s not going to happen. We’ve got a dozen snipers with orders to shot to kill.”
“You’re not going to risk me killing her,” the beast said, reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small hand gun, pressing it at her temple.
Tristan cocked his head, drawing his lips in a tight line.
She sucked in a breath. They were going to let him walk out, using her as shield. Tears coated her eyes like a dense fog. Her feet scrambled on the floor. The knife still burned her neck. If she moved the wrong way, or if the beast moved the wrong way, the sharp blade would tear through her jugular.
Or a bullet through her brain.
The beast took small steps backward. “You’re going to let me leave, or she dies.”
The front door clicked open. The wind howled and a few large rain pellets smacked her face. “Please, just let me go,” she whispered.
“No can do little lady.”
“I let you leave, and she dies anyway.” Tristan inched his way forward. “The only question is how badly do you want to live.”
“Going to prison isn’t living. So, if that’s how you want to play this, I’ll kill her right here right now.”
Brooke gasped, eyes wide.
Tristan stopped, quickly raising his weapon to the sky. “Boss says you get to walk.” He looked directly into her eyes. His thoughts and emotions flooding her body with the force of lightning. She swallowed her breath as the beast pulled her down the steps.
Trust me.
Not an easy thing to do in a situation like this, but she had to believe that the connection she had with Tristan was real. That her instincts about what he wanted her to do were real.
I love you, she thought, staring into his dark, warm eyes.
“You stay right there,” the Beast yelled, pointing his gun at Tristan. “Take another step and I’ll kill her.”
The beast dragged her down the stairs. The rain hit her body sideways as the wind whipped her hair in front of her face, covering her eyes. She struggled to keep her legs from completely collapsing as he continued to pull her across the lawn, Tristan disappearing from sight.
Trust me.
“Open the door.” The beast pushed her against a car door, arm still around her body, knife at her throat.
Her fingers trembled as she tried to lift door handle but failed. “It’s locked.”
“Fuck.” The beast twisted. “Reach inside my pants pocket.”
She held her hands up. “How do you think I will manage that with my hands tied?”
He dug the tip of the blade into her neck.
She bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming. The sharp pain rattled her teeth.
“You’re going to regret being snippy with me.” The pressure of the knife disappeared as he fisted her hair, yanking it back, twisting her body to the side.
A loud snap followed by a louder pop startled her, making her jump. She fell to the ground face first as she heard two more excruciating bangs that made her head feel as though a bomb had gone off inside. She tried to cover her ears, but couldn’t with the way her hands were clasped together. Knowing she was no longer being held by the beast’s thick arms, she dug her heels into the wet ground, crawling away, when two hands hoisted her to her feet.
“Let go of me!” She pounded her tied fists into a hard chest, trying to push away.
A constant ringing in her ears drowned out the voices around her. At least she thought she heard voices. She slammed her hands against whoever held her. The broken fingers in her hand throbbed as she continued to squirm, trying to break free. From the hardness of the chest she smacked, she had to be right back into the arms of the beast.
“Brooke!”
She froze as a hand pushed her hair out of her face. She blinked. Red and blue flashing lights lit up the sky. Men wearing dark suits ran across the yard yelling commands at each other.
“Look at me,” Tristan said, cupping her cheeks. “Brooke?” His gaze shifted from her eyes, to her check as he tilted her head, groaning when he glanced at her neck. “I need a medic over here.” He cut through the plastic that held her hands together.
The air burned her lungs as she heaved in harsh breaths. She turned her head and saw the beast, laying in the muddy grass.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
“I believe so,” Tristan said. “Let’s get you someplace dry.”
“I did not sign on for this.” Heat raced up her body. She pounded the thick vest Tristan wore. “Where is Wendell?”
“In custody.” Tristan tilted his head. “It’s over.”
“Over!? I didn’t know it began. Al
l I wanted to do was bury my grandfather and try to rebuild my life and that asshole tried to kill me.” Her hands came down hard on Tristan’s shoulders. “God only knows what he did to Michelle.”
“Michelle is fine.” Tristan curled his fingers over her wrists, but she yanked them free, groaning in pain.
“Where is he? I’m going to wring his neck.” She took two steps around Tristan before he circled his arms around her middle, stopping her.
“Let me go,” she said behind a tight jaw.
“Brooke, you need to relax.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Being held, even by Tristan, set off a rage so intense she felt no other recourse but to strike back, pounding at his chest as hard as she could. Her body so filled with fury, it’s all she could see, feel, or taste.
Tristan’s hands held her hips. “Get it out, babe,” he whispered.
His soft voice slowly bringing her back to reality.
She looked up at him as she took her hands and hit his chest once more. The vest so thick and bulky it felt like she stood a mile away. Feverishly, she tried to find how to remove it.
“You’re going to hurt yourself more than you already are,” Tristan said as he gently took her by her wrists, letting her arms drop to her sides. The sound of Velcro zipped across the night air as he removed the vest, then pulled her into his loving arms. “It’s going to be okay.” His hot breath tickled her ear. He slid his arm under her knees and lifted her against his strong body. “You’ve a very brave woman, Brooke Fowler.”
“I don’t know about that,” she whispered, nuzzling her face into his neck, letting her body relax, which brought on a guttural sob. “When will I wake up from this nightmare?”
“It’s over.” Tristan set her down in the back of an ambulance. Someone wrapped her in a blanket.
“Don’t leave me.” She reached for him and he leaned in, wrapping his arms around her.
“I’ll never leave you,” he whispered. “But right now, you need to let them check you over. You’ve got a couple of nasty cuts that need stitches, a few fingers that looked mangled, and a very large bump on the side of your head.” He kissed her temple. “And yet, you manage to still be the most beautiful woman in the world.”