Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(2)
He reaches out slow, like I’m some wild animal that might skitter off. As soon as he puts his hand on my hip, I go to do just that, but he squeezes so hard a gasp sneaks past my lips that makes his eyes close. “I’ve been a patient man,” he whispers, and I know it’s a warning. So I let him stay there, with his hand on my hip, knowing I’ll have bruises later. When his eyes finally open, he has that hungry look that makes my stomach hurt.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Even in this black rag of a dress, you’re still a tease.”
His hand slithers up my waist and onto my breast. I try to break free but he holds me in place, and grazes his thumb over my nipple. The touch is so shocking, I gasp and manage to shove his hand away. “You can’t give me a minute to mourn my father?” I ask, squeezing the words out as mean as I can make them. “I’m not even out of the cemetery.”
Shayne looks up slowly, his glare so sinister my heart stops beating. For a moment, I wonder if the beast is loose, and I start to panic because I’ve seen him loose before. But then his eyes flick up and over my head, to something in the distance. He stays staring at whatever it was that caught his eye, then looks back down and pins me with a glare.
“You have until Saturday, then I’m coming for you. If you try to run, I’ll find you, and you’ll only make things worse for yourself. Not only that, I know your weakness. Don’t make me use it. Understand me?”
The color drains from my face and I nod. He keeps glaring, making sure his threat sinks in good and deep, then lets me go and turns towards his dually. It’s a big, dark monster of a thing, just like him.
It isn’t until he’s gone that the air returns to my lungs and I turn around, searching for whatever had Shayne backing off. Then I see it. A dark saintly figure stands atop the hillside, watching me. Father Watkins. Behind him the sky has turned a fiery red, outlining his frame, while his black robe billows in the breeze. Even from this distance I can see his aging eyes, so full of wisdom, and so full of sorrow.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I’ve just been granted a three-day grace.
CHAPTER TWO
The drive home takes me through town, one main road that winds up through the hills. Most of Los Ramos is set back in a large canyon, tucked away where the earth sort of levels out for a bit before turning to hills again, then mountains that become the Los Padres National Forest. It’s Southern California, but might as well be the Midwest, because of the way people talk and the way people live. It’s mostly ranchers and farmers and those who’ve grown up here. Most don’t come here out of the blue. It isn’t that type of place.
As tired as I am, I have one stop to make before heading home. I pass through the main part of town, looking at the shops as I pass by, some of them boarded up, then pull into the parking lot of West Pine Market. I have to sit for a moment to gather the strength just to open the door.
When I finally make it inside, it’s empty except for Marni at the register, filing her nails. I didn’t know she was working here now. I think about turning around and leaving, but I need a few things. I haven’t had time these past couple weeks to do much of anything except take care of my father.
I grab a basket and slowly make my way through the aisles. Toilet paper, toothpaste, box of Wheat Thins for me, a chicken for Ben.
At the counter, Marni keeps doing her nails while I stand there, waiting. I went to school with her son, and she and my mother had been best friends once, but had a falling out not long after I was born. Marni’s hatred for my mother transferred to me and she’s never made a secret about it.
Her swampy green eyes graze me over then focus on her nails again. She’s eerily thin with a tangled mess of red hair that hangs down over a leopard top that doesn’t hide the old track marks on her arms. She might’ve been pretty once, well, sort of pretty, but not anymore.
“Heard your old man finally hit the grave,” she says, fanning out her bony fingers and surveying her work.
I ignore her and reach for my wallet.
She sighs and leisurely sets the nail file aside and rings me up. I hand her the money and wait while she makes change. “Your momma was a curse, you know that? She might as well have stabbed him with a knife the day they got married. Woulda saved him all that sufferin’. But then again, your daddy was a lousy bastard, so guess he got what he deserved.” I hold my hand out for the change, but she drops it on the counter. “And from what I hear, you’re gonna get yours too.”
My hands are shaking when I put the change back in my wallet.
She tosses a couple bags on the counter, then smiles and tilts her head while I load my stuff up. “Still don’t talk much, eh? Those pesky things called words too hard for your little brain to put together into a sentence?”
I look at her then, really look at her. Strangely enough, the anger vanishes and all I feel at that moment is pity. Maybe it’s the emptiness I see in her eyes, the sadness that no amount of makeup or harsh words can hide. Life had broken her, but life wouldn’t break me.
Marni blinks and reaches for the nail file. Now it’s her hands that are shaking. “Go on, get,” she snaps.
I grab my bags and leave.
By the time I turn into the long gravel driveway, it’s almost dark. The little two-bedroom ranch house sits back beyond the field and glows under the twilight sky. It looks nice right now, only because you can’t make out the peeling white paint, or the boards on the porch that need fixing, or the broken shudders. The house isn’t much, but it’s my home. It’s the land that’s really the prize. Ten beautiful acres of rolling hills and oak trees that I know like the back of my hand.