No Perfect Hero(103)

I have to play along until I can get within reach, until I can make sure the girls are safe.

“What the fuck do you want from me? Name your price.”

“Simple,” he says. “You’re going to give me your truck to start. I can’t have the police looking for mine, after all. It’s quite distinctive. You’ll leave it behind the billboard at the two mile marker outside of the north side of town with at least three handguns, double that many clips of ammo, and five hundred thousand dollars cash in the driver’s seat. You won’t be there when I come to pick it up. I’ll leave the girls, and you can come fetch them in the morning. If you show up before then, no deal.” I can almost hear the nonchalant shrug in his voice. “I’ll kill them. And you’ll never find me, and I’ll just have to get my money elsewhere. So.” Fuck, he sounds so cheerful I could murder him. “Why don’t you just work with me, War? One more time? Best outcome for everyone.”

I want to tell him to go fuck himself.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll be back in town by afternoon. Make the drop at midnight. Deal?”

“That sounds perfectly acceptable. Oh, and Warren?”

“What?” I snarl.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Haley for you. Keep her warmed up.”

The bubbling rage in me blisters into an explosion, but before I can let out a furious bark, he ends the call. I fling my phone at the dashboard. The crack as it hits the windshield and the phone screen shatters is almost satisfying. Breathing hard, I dig my fingers into my hair, grinding the heels of my palms against my eyes.

“Shit. We're hosed, boys.”

Blake’s hand rests on my arm, reaching from the back, warm and firm and steady, reminding me I still have people I can trust. His goofiness is gone, leaving behind sober, sharp focus. “What’s the rundown, man? Talk to us.”

I take several rough breaths and make myself speak. “Short version: Stewart killed Jenna, lied about it as the only real eyewitness, framed Bress, and he's been blackmailing him all this time. Till I got too close and Stewart killed him.”

“Fuck,” Blake breathes. “Harsh. I can’t believe I ever...”

“I know,” I whisper, my voice a rasp. “But that’s not all. He’s got Hay and Tara. He wants a ransom of five hundred big, left at a drop point in exchange for the girls.”

“Blind exchange?” Doc asks.

“Yeah.”

“I take it we don’t intend to trust that?”

“Not in the fucking slightest,” I bite off. “Drive faster. Let’s get back to the inn and grab my goddamn guns.”

I’m coming, Tara.

I’m coming, Haley.

And when I get there, Stew will pay for betraying my trust. Our friendship. Jenna.

And one way or another, he'll pay for hurting Haley.





21





I Say When (Haley)





I have a guilty confession to make.

I never much liked the movie Pretty Woman.

Don't ask why. Sure, the acting’s good, but maybe I’m just the wrong generation to appreciate what it was for its time. One thing hasn’t changed no matter how the movie aged, though.

That line after Philip Stuckey hit Vivian across the face, when Edward’s icing her jaw.

She asks if they take boys aside in school and teach them how to hit a woman to make it hurt the most, and I’m starting to think they do – because the place where Stewart’s fist crashes across my mouth throbs like a bitch, douses my entire face in flames, reaching up like stabbing daggers until I'm ready to scream.

I curl up on the floor with Tara next to me. I hate that she's here for this thanks to my mistake.

She’s just frantic, clutching at me, starting to touch my face, then pulling away. “Auntie Haley,” she whispers. I try to force a smile even though my mouth hurts like hell.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, keeping my voice low. “I’m okay, Tara. I'm okay.”

I’m not okay.

But I have to keep a brave face on for her.

And watch for an opportunity.

Stewart hasn’t bothered tying her up. The second I see an opening, I’m going to tell her to leave me and run. I'll create whatever diversion I have to.

She has to get away from this hell. Get help, but more importantly, be safe.

I don’t matter, as long as Tara gets out of this.

Stewart hangs up his call with Warren. I hate that Warren has to go along with this, too, but I can’t see any way out of it. I tried to tell him, to warn him.

The worst part is, this entire thing is going to end in heartbreak for him all over again.

My skin feels too tight, like it’ll split and spill from my fear, when Stewart slowly turns to look at me.

I hold his eyes. I want his attention focused on me, not Tara, and it seems to be working.

He locks on with a sort of fixed intensity that makes me feel sick, as if he’s looking for the easiest place to cut.

“You talk too much, you know that?” He sinks into a crouch in front of me. Too close.

I want to push away, but I don’t dare risk any sudden movements. I’m still sprawled on the floor where he practically threw me with that backhanded punch, and my position right now doesn’t offer me any advantages.