“You want to know what real cruelty is?” Wayne asked.
She didn’t. She saw enough proof of some people’s meanness in the emergency room.
“My daddy. Now he was cruel.” Wayne’s face contorted with anger and agony, obviously reflecting on a tragic past.
“I’m sorry, Wayne,” she said, because she truly was. No one deserved abuse.
He seemed not to hear. “He was an especially mean drunk. Whippin’ me with his belt wasn’t good enough when he was drunk. He set out to really hurt me then.” His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “Really can’t say I blame Mama for taking off like she did. A person can only get beat on and burned so many times before they’ve had enough. Bitch shoulda taken me with her, though. Dad took everything out on me once she left.”
Lilly’s chest tightened, and her gut roiled. She saw in Wayne’s face the pain of rejection he’d likely never admit—that of a small boy abandoned by his mother. Or maybe she was projecting her own devastation over her father’s departure. And Alan’s. She firmly pushed those memories from her head. She had quite enough to deal with today without letting those dark emotions out from where she kept them locked away.
Lilly refocused her attention on Wayne and what she was learning about him. Considering all he’d endured as a kid, the criminal lifestyle foisted on him by his father, he must have felt he had no other choices in life. She could imagine with the cancer he was battling and the wrong turns his last bank heist had taken, he was probably feeling rather hopeless, desperate, trapped.
She swallowed hard, then murmured, “I hope you know you are better than this. Life can be more for you.”
Wayne angled his gaze without turning his head. “Better than what?”
“Robbing banks. Shooting guards. Holding us hostage. Your dad may have led you into that way of life, but you can change. You can rise above it.”
He shifted on the recliner and lifted his face more fully to her. “What are you saying, Lilly? You think I’m some kind of lowlife you can look down on?”
His sneer and the darker tone of his voice warned her to tread lightly. “No. I’m saying it’s not too late to change your path. Your past, your father’s abuse, your track record do not have to dictate where you go from here.”
Dave gave her a side glance that said he was skeptical of her contention but understood what she was trying to accomplish.
“See,” Wayne said, pointing at Dave, “even he knows that’s a load of crap. I can’t undo the past. It is what it is, and I done what I’ve done. Can’t unshoot someone or unhold up a liquor store.”
“No. But you don’t have to let it determine how you move forward from here. The things you’ve done are just actions, they don’t dictate your heart. You can turn your life around. If you send good out to the world, good will come back to you.”
“So it’s my fault I have cancer and that my dad was an ass?” His eyes glittered with anger. “That what you’re saying? Because I put bad stuff out there, robbin’ banks, karma gave me cancer?”
“No! Not at all. I mean, we all have to face the consequences of our actions. Your dad chose to rob a larger bank and got shot. You chose to drive Dave’s truck while impaired and crashed, breaking your nose.” Beside her Dave growled under his breath.
“But plenty of things happen for no reason we can understand,” she continued, knowing she had Wayne’s attention. “You didn’t ask to be born into a family where your mother would leave and your father would beat you. You didn’t do anything to deserve cancer. But you can change the things you can control. Change what’s inside you. Forgive your father for his cruelty.”
Wayne’s scoff was loud and defiant. “Like hell. Why should I?”
“Because,” she said and drew a slow breath, “as someone wise recently told me, forgiveness isn’t about letting the other person off the hook. Forgiveness means not letting the other person control you or your emotions anymore. Forgiving means letting go of old hurts so that you can heal and move on.”
Dave angled a look at her, lifting an eyebrow at her, as if to say the sentiments were wasted on Wayne.
Wayne’s expression was dubious, too.
Still, she had the opening and she wouldn’t waste it. “You can stop robbing banks. You could even do something to help other kids from abusive homes. And...you can do right by us. Let us go. Holding us, hurting us, gains you nothing but more trouble down the road.”
Wayne rolled his eyes so hard she was surprised she didn’t hear his brain rattle.
With a sour look and a curled lip, he said, “You know, same as me, there’s only two ways this’ll end. Either I get away and go down to Mexico or South America somewhere to get treated for my cancer, or the cops will get me, and I’ll get locked up for the rest of my days.”
“That’s not true. The future is not written yet. You could negotiate a plea that—”
“Shut up,” he barked, turning his head away. “I’m tired, and you’re giving me a headache.” He glared at her. “A worse headache than what I already had.”
Lilly sighed and sank back in the sofa cushions. So much for her plan to win Wayne over with her encouragement. She could only hope that somehow she’d planted a seed in him that would take root. But would Wayne see the light in time to save her life and Dave’s?
* * *
About thirty minutes later, Wayne’s eyelids started drooping as his latest dose of tramadol kicked in. He hadn’t yet moved her and Dave back to the bedroom prison, and Lilly began hoping their captor would nod off while she was still untied. Her plan A had failed, but was there hope for a plan B?
After his third yawn in as many minutes, however, he seemed to realize he was fading fast and scooted out of the recliner. “Get up, both of you.”
He used the gun to wave them to their feet. Moving to one of the partly packed boxes Lilly had been filling with Helen’s books, Wayne found another roll of packing tape and hitched his head toward the back of the house. “Time to go to your room.”
Her heart sank, both for the failed attempt to convince Wayne to release them and the thought of being bound hand and foot again.
Dave’s expression reflected the same frustration and dejection as they were marched down the hall. Before Wayne could dictate otherwise, Dave climbed on the bed and leveled a challenging glare on their captor, as if daring him to force Dave back down on the floor.
“Turn around. Hands behind your back, Lilly,” Wayne said. He set the gun on the dresser, out of her reach.
“Wayne, can’t we come up with another way to—” she started, only to be interrupted by the jarring rrrriip of the tape unwinding from the roll. She’d have nightmares about that sound when this was over... God willing, she survived the ordeal. Dave was eyeing the weapon on the dresser, speculation plain in his eyes.
“Wayne,” she began again, hoping to capture their captor’s attention, in case Dave was planning a move. “Tying us up is not the answer. Please, just let us—” She grunted when he grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Let you go?” he finished for her as he pulled her arms behind her. “Just give it a rest, Lilly! That ain’t happening.”
He wrapped the tape around her already sore and adhesive-chafed wrists, and she winced. “I’m just trying to find an out for you, Wayne. For all of us. I don’t want anyone else to die.”
He leaned close, his breath smelling of coffee and the old blood in his sinuses, and whispered, “Then do as you’re told, and keep your pal in line.” He flicked a finger toward the bed. “Up.”
While she climbed on the bed, he jerked Dave’s feet together and taped them, then secured his hands to the headboard. Her feet and hands were given similar treatment next.
After retrieving the revolver, Wayne paused at the door and grumbled, “Keep it down back here. I need to sleep.”
As soon as the door close
d, Dave directed a hard look at her and whispered, “I thought I was clear about our plan, our priorities, if opportunity presented itself.”
She furrowed her brow. “What?”
“You had plenty of chances to get the gun from him. Why didn’t you?” The accusatory edge in his tone stung.
She glanced away from his dark, razor-sharp gaze and took a moment to compose herself. “I didn’t think I could.”
“Your hands and feet were both loose. It was the perfect chance. I would have distracted him, dived in to help with the slightest cue from you.”
“I...was scared to. I’m not sure I could have fired it, emptied it before he got it away from me.”
“I’d have run interference for you.”
“And likely gotten yourself killed for it! Last time I tried to take control of the gun, he got it back in an instant and aimed it at me.” She shuddered at the memory. “I chose not to take that risk.” Squaring her shoulders, Lilly lowered her voice, which had grown louder as her passion rose. “I saw a chance to get in his good graces, a chance to build a useful bond with him, and went that route instead.”
Dave closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the headboard. “Oh, Lilly...”
“And I was making progress until...”
He cracked one eye open and turned his face toward her. “Until? Go on. You’re going to blame me for ruining things. For letting him get under my skin.”
“Well...no. He was the main provocateur.”
The muscle in his jaw jumped as he ground his back teeth together. “What he is is a first-class bastard. A psychopath.”
“Agreed.”
“So why are you still trying to negotiate with him? Begging him and—” He made a sound of disgust and shook his head.
“I still think I can reach him, convince him to let us go unharmed.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“Maybe. But it’s a dream worth pursuing. I’m not willing to quit fighting for any chance to save our lives. Are you?”
He huffed his frustration. “Of course not.”
“‘And what do we say to the God of Death?’” she said, quoting one of her favorite TV shows.
He jerked a startled gaze to her and answered, “Not today.”
She smiled knowingly at him, and he expelled a harsh laugh. “It just...sticks in my craw knowing so much of our fate is in his slimy hands. I’ve had to mind my words and yield to his will simply because of that damn gun so many times that I’m choking on it. But—” he angled his head to meet her gaze, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur “—if swallowing my pride is the sacrifice I have to make to see you safe, I’ll do it a thousand times.”
The sentiment brought a lump to her throat.
Based on what she was seeing for herself about Dave, she knew he would indeed sacrifice for her, up to and including his own life. That thought sent a chill through her, because Wayne was showing signs of growing more hostile, more volatile. Especially when under the influence of his pain meds.
“So...you know Game of Thrones?”
“I do.”
“Helen called me a dragon geek for watching it. For loving it as much as I do.”
Lilly snorted. “She told me.”
His gaze narrowed. “And...you like Thrones?”
“Hadn’t expected to, but...what can I say? Great storyline, creative world building, spot-on character development. I mean, Tyrion...”
“I know! Right?” He chuckled and, after a beat, quoted, “‘That’s what I do—’”
“‘I drink and I know things.’”
They shared a smile, then she offered another famous line from the popular fantasy drama. They continued this way for a while, passing the time reciting the dialogue from television shows and movie scenes they both loved. They moved on to word associations, random favorites and trivia, anything to keep their mind off the passing hours and the aching in their muscles.
“Dark chocolate?” he said, quizzing her.
“It’s okay with the right red wine,” she replied. “Cilantro?”
“Love it, but my brother thinks it tastes like soap.” He shook his head, grinning, “In fact, once when we were eating out at this primo, five-star restaurant for my mother’s birthday...” And he launched into a humorous story about his childhood that led to her telling a memory of her own. And back and forth they continued, learning tidbits about each other and trying not to dwell on the nightmare sleeping down the hall.
She’d just finished recounting the comical calamity that was her seventh birthday party, complete with the neighbor’s dog eating the cake, a sudden rain shower that soaked the piñata and her father popping the inflatable bouncy house when he jumped on it, when Dave grew strangely pensive.
“What?” she asked, sensing his mood swing.
“Oh, just...” He sighed. “I guess Helen told you she found him?”
Shock rendered her frozen, breathless. When she recovered enough to speak, she rasped, “Found...who?” But she knew. Who else could Dave mean? Who else from her and Helen’s past needed finding? Certainly not the fireman who responded to...
“I take it from your reaction that you didn’t know.”
Lilly fought for a shallow, quavering breath. “No. Tell me.”
“Um, all she said was that she used some legal documents—your parents’ divorce papers, I think—as a starting place to track him down. She said she wanted closure.”
“Oh, Helen.”
“Um...when she found your father’s new address, she sat in the car and watched the house for a while. A lady with a small boy pulled up to the house first and unloaded groceries. Then a girl who looked to be about ten got off the school bus. The kids were in the yard when your dad got home. His hair was grayer, but she was sure it was him. She heard the girl call him ‘Daddy,’ and the boy ran to get a hug as your dad got out of the car.”
Her heart thrashed against her ribs like a trapped animal fighting to get free. “He has a new family.”
“Apparently. She said she didn’t speak to him. Just started the engine and drove away.”
“Damn him,” she muttered under her breath. Lilly blinked back the tears that pricked her eyes. She would not shed any more tears for that man. He’d made his choice, and she’d dealt with the repercussions of his decision in ways no nine-year-old should have to. But someone had to cook and clean and buy the groceries when their mother slipped into one of her depressions.
He angled his head toward her. “I’m sorry, Lil. I shouldn’t have said anything. I figured Helen had told—”
“No. I always begged her to let it go. What was done was done. But she couldn’t believe he left without good reason.” She scoffed. “Poor Helen. I guess she got her closure.”
“She did. She said knowing he was happy, even if it wasn’t with her, gave her a little peace. She wouldn’t begrudge him the love he’d found with his new family. She loved him enough to let him go.”
Helen had found peace over their father’s abandonment? The idea rocked Lilly to her core, because his memory still hurt her so deeply. She sniffed hard when her nose started to run. “When was this?”
“About three years ago.”
She exhaled and shook her head, trying to clear the melancholy. “So now I know. Good for her. I’m afraid I can’t be as magnanimous.”
Having apparently recovered from her gunfire-wrought fright, Maddie grew bold enough to climb on the bed with them and crawl onto Lilly’s lap. Her cat nuzzled her arm and nipped at her elbow, asking to be patted, and Lilly sighed. “Sorry, Maddie-cakes. I’d like nothing more than to hug you right now, but my hands are tied. Literally.” She chuckled without humor. “Don’t often get to say that, huh? My hands are literally tied.”
Dave hummed an acknowledgment, then said, “The man was an idiot.”
&nb
sp; “Huh?”
Dave turned his head to pin her with a probing stare full of compassion and conviction. “I’ll tell you what I told Helen that day. Your father was an idiot to leave. He gave up the right to know what a beautiful, vibrant woman you became.”
Her breath caught, and she felt as if she were falling into Dave’s mahogany gaze.
“He forfeited the chance to know you, to love you, to watch you make a difference in the world, and he is so much poorer for it.”
“Dave...”
“Only an idiot would give up a chance to be with you,” he whispered.
And she lost a piece of her heart to him.
Chapter 13
“Hey, wake up!” a gruff male voice said the next morning, waking Dave from the best sleep he’d had all night.
Most of the evening he’d stared into the darkness, listening to Lilly breathe and sweating over how he could get them out of this mess alive. He knew he needed to rest while their captor slept, so his mind would be as fresh and clear-thinking as possible. But when he tried to quiet his brain in search of Z’s, his stiff muscles and throbbing skull conspired to keep him in only the lightest stages of sleep. Apparently, though, somewhere in the wee hours he’d drifted off, because the room was lighter now. And he hadn’t heard Wayne come in the room—a failing all on its own.
Dave wanted to rub his bleary eyes, needed to stretch the dull ache from muscles bound in the same awkward position too long. While he mentally grumbled over his hand constraints and discomfort, Wayne raised a booted foot to Dave’s bad leg. “I said, wake up!”
Dave gritted his teeth and muffled his grunt of pain. “What do you want?”
“Get up and you’ll find out.”
He’d promised Lilly not to let Wayne bait him. Continuing the hostilities between them would only prove more dangerous as Wayne lost patience and grew more agitated.
The bedsprings squeaked as Lilly roused and raised her head from his shoulder. “What’s happening? Dave?”
Rancher's Hostage Rescue Page 13