BUFF Page 15

  Colt's face hardens. His cheeks tighten and spread as his jaw line locks. “I guess you and I have two different definitions of the word: loyalty."

  Her father's face strains as a he stifles a groan. Becky doesn’t ever want to be witness to the sound of that sort of agony coming from her father again. It ripped at her gut, stretching her own fear and pain wider, deeper.

  “If you think you’re innocent of what we have come here to rectify then you have no worries now, do you?"

  When her father remains motionless at her side, his small whimpers burning her ears, she realizes her tolerance has about run out. “Leave. Him. Alone."

  Colt doesn’t appear to hear her. “Consider me your priest. Confess, Mr. Appleton." He couldn’t have sounded more practiced and peaceful in his suggestion if he’d been rehearsing it at a monastery. He is answered only with her father's silence. Raising a dark brow, Colt's head tilts slightly. “No?” He nods, finding his gun at his back without having to turn. “Do you consider yourself right with God then?

  No! He's going to murder my father!

  “Colt,” Becky breathes out, this time gulping for air. She shifts, handing Toby over to her mother who is behind her. She stands, not prepared for how rubbery her legs are under her.

  She flings herself in front of him—so close—so he can only see her.

  Now he will have to pay attention.

  “Colt, wait, please. What’re you doing? Why are you doing this?"

  He slants her a gaze then directs himself fully on her, only for a few seconds at a time, as if he’s bothered by her, as if it annoys him to have to stare at her for too long. His eyes are sharp as they envelop her and her words.

  “Don't do this."

  “This,” he hisses, “is my job."

  “And this is my family! I'm asking you—I'm begging you, Colt,” she urges, her voice rising, “to not do your job. Walk away, whatever it is, just forget it. I promise we'll leave, you won't ever hear from us again. Turn your heads and let us walk out of here like we were going to do anyway."

  Blue sparkles as he sneers. “Begging really doesn't suit you."

  “I saved your goddamn life! Do you remember that?” The words carry themselves as she watches his pupils dilate, his lids blink in a slow drift as if he’s forcing himself not to remember. “You said you’d never forget. Was it all just an act? Was what happened between us part of your master plan all along? You made me trust you and you trusted me to take care of you. If it wasn’t for me you'd be dead! Dead, Colt, dead! You owe me."

  He shifts his feet, dismissing her with a clear of his throat. “This has nothing to do with you."

  She steps closer. “Like hell it doesn't! This has everything to do with me, my family”—she points to her dad—“that is my father. My father you're going to kill.” She jabs at her chest. “How can you stand there and do this? You might as well kill me too!"

  The breathing stagger though the fleeting emotion on his face paces like a dreamed phase. “You should’ve never been involved.” His words are soft, lingering in regret.

  Her hand comes up and finds his forearm without breaking eye contact. The leather is slick and cool under her sweaty palm.

  “I saved you. It's your turn now, Colt." She picks up on the jump of muscles under her touch. "Save me.”

  * * *

  SOME PEOPLE DON’T know when to quit.

  Sometimes people have to be pushed a little toward the truth. You have to make them face the mirror—smash them into it even—force them to see they're wrong even if they hate you at first.

  In the end they will thank you. They'll be damn grateful if they know what’s good for them. He just hopes he isn’t too late.

  When he saw the motorcycle parked in front of the Appleton house he’d felt the first stir of anger, recognizing it from the motel. It’s parked on their corner like it’s been there a hundred times before.

  Emmett can’t ignore the enticing opportunity that’s fallen flat on top of him like it’s raining fortunes from the heavens.

  He presses the end button. He will do whatever it takes to make Rebecca see that this man, this thug, is no good for her. She deserves better and then after he saves her from the bad man she will see where her true feelings lie.

  In his heart.

  She will be thankful, very thankful. And he will be there, like before, to help pick up the pieces, make her see she is always meant to be with him and he will finally have what is rightfully his.

  Rebecca Appleton.

  In love with him.

  His wife.

  The mother of his future heir.

  This couldn’t have worked out for the better.

  Smirking he starts to walk away from the house. He should go before the cops get here. There isn’t much time and he doesn’t want his love to see him when they cart off that delinquent boyfriend of hers.

  He'll put her back together.

  But not before he breaks her first.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE SKINNY BLONDE man watches their every move.

  Colt eyes him before he comes back to stare at the small hand that’s still encased around his arm.

  Becky doesn’t know what to expect, his features as always reveal nothing of what he’s thinking. His are armored, iron hard. She grips tighter.

  Where’s the man I bared my secrets to? I know you’re in there somewhere… You have to be...

  She stiffens and it’s like Colt has read her thoughts. He steps away brushing off where she’d been touching him. He nods to the blonde man, juts his chin. “Outside. Pack them in."

  “No!" Becky hurls herself in front of her family who are already complying. “No,” she cries, her head shaking. She feels like she’s yanking her words from her gut with a fish hook. “No I won't let you take them. You're gonna have to kill me first!"

  “Rebecca,” her mother cries, grabbing her shoulder. “Stop, please. This isn't helping, sweetie."

  “I won't let you take them!" Becky screams.

  “Move.” There is no mistaking Colt’s demand.

  “You're not going to do it. I won't let you!” She yells as though possessed by a roaring animal that has unleashed itself. “You'll have to go through me. Got that Colt? You'll have to kill me first."

  He stomps closer.

  Raises his hand.

  She closes her eyes breathing deeply. Waiting.

  “Becky,” he says, with so much patience it scares her. She opens her eyes. “Don't make this harder than it is."

  “What?” She lets out an incredulous laugh, ready to collapse. “You afraid to kill me? Attack of conscience? Or you just like to kill people in size order, Mr. Lawson Lawson?"

  He isn’t amused. He hasn’t blinked either.

  The echo of her laugh dies and all that is left are the tears streaking across her face. She wipes them with her sweater. “I meant what I said. You're going to have to go through me—”

  Someone knocks on the front door.

  Colt draws his gun.

  The short knock bangs louder the second time, more urgent. It seems to suck all the air out of the room and heightens the tension three-fold.

  Colt edges closer to the window and without touching it he sees the blue uniform. His face doesn’t change as he spews out his order, “Get them in the van. Call, tell Jenson plans have changed and meet us at the location we discussed.” He looks at her father, glances over at her mother who’s crying in her father’s shoulder. “Don't make any noise."

  Headed toward the back door, Colt yanks Becky from the huddle. She bumps against him but he uses the flat of his palm to press her up against his body. Her back to him, she doesn’t try to put up a fight.

  Her father stops, notices his daughter's absence and turns, his face paling. “No, what’re you doing? That's my daughter. No!"

  Colt closes his eyes, takes the gun and nudges it into her side. “Do what I say." The bearded man pushes at her father's shoulder just the right amount f
or him to trip a little, but still be able to move. “Go.” Colt barks a bit louder. He drags Becky to the door and mutters against the side of her face. She fights the urge to jerk her head back and head-butt him. “Answer them."

  She brings her hand up.

  He reads her mind.

  “Don't open it. Just answer them. Now."

  She clears the clog in her throat, grinding her teeth together to seize the trembling.

  “Can—can I help you?"

  “Ma'am,” they immediately answer, “we received a call from a concerned neighbor that there’s a disturbance of some kind. Is everything okay, ma'am?"

  “F-Fine,” her voice cracks. “Everything's fine, officer. We are just, uh, talking loud, sir… I broke curfew. You know how it is."

  “Ma'am, can you please open the door."

  The cold metal of the gun digs into her side. She can feel the side of his face plastered into her hair, feel his warm breath on her scalp as it travels over her head when he whispers, “Don't let them in."

  She scrambles, her excuse falling over her tongue like a clumsy trip of words. “My family’s actually out and I don't really feel comfortable with—”

  “Open the door now, ma’am.” There is no misinterpreting the command. “We need to take a look around, for safety's sake."

  One second he’s over her, his breathing in time with hers. And the next he’s carrying her across the floor. She wriggles but it’s useless with his arm banded around her like a prison-bar bent to fit her waist and paralyze her movements.

  She opens her mouth and he jerks her closer. "Don't. Don't even think about it."

  He tucks his gun in his jeans, opens the back door and shuts it all with one hand just as she hears the officers threaten to break down the door if she doesn’t comply.

  Colt lets her down on the grass, brings his hand up to enclose around her neck with enough pressure that tells her if she moves one step the wrong way he'll hall her over his shoulder if necessary.

  The dark bushes on their neighbors side block visage then part to uncover the dark-blue SUV parked across the street. She eyes the scene around her.

  There has to be someone out here, it’s Sunday for God's sakes.

  But the neighborhood is dead.

  “Get in," he orders.

  She can see her parents in the backseat with Toby. “Where are we going?"

  “Get in the car,” he grunts, stepping closer, letting go of her neck and finally, for the first time, letting his anger show itself.

  “But—”

  “Get in car or I'll throw you in."

  She curses at him and steps up on the ledge. Looking down, Colt massages his temple. Instead of sitting in the empty seat in the front he sits next to her, swipes the door shut and barks for the blonde to floor it.

  They’re on the road and headed to the highway before she realizes what’s happening. The small cries behind her wake her from her shell-shocked state and she turns, clasping her mother's hand. “You okay?"

  “Yes,” she reassures her daughter. She’s lying; her tears and face scream her fears. Her father sits motionless beside her mother.

  It scares her, makes her stomach bunch in a cramp. "Dad.” She kneels, leaning closer to grasp his hand.

  He keeps his hand rooted in his lap, doesn’t acknowledge that he hears. “I'm all right, Pumpkin. Sit."

  “Dad."

  “Put your seatbelt back on,” he orders, like she’s three and they’re on vacation or something.

  “What’re we doin’?" the drivers asks.

  “You called Jenson?” Colt sounds out of breath.

  “Yeah, he'll be there like you said."

  “Good."

  “Cops?"

  “Jenson’s gonna take them when we meet up."

  “Where are you taking us?” Becky asks, with a little too much gumption. A blistering glare of sterling blue stops her rage dead in their tracks. “Where are we going?” she asks, her words softer this time.

  “You aren't going anywhere.” He leans back into the seat, staring at the dashboard. “Your family’s going with Jenson."

  “What…? What do you mean my family? What about me?"

  He licks his lips slowly, bends his head for a quick second as he pushes out a long breath. “You're coming with me."

  “No!” She immediately draws farther away from him, letting her shoulder blades dig into the end of the window. “I'm not going anywhere with you."

  He answers in a matter-of-fact way that dares rebuttal, “You got no choice."

  “I don't understand…” She searches his face but he refuses to return her a look. “Why do you need just me? I want to be with my family."

  “Because I do,” his voice rumbles. “That's all you need to know."

  She doesn’t have to be a psychic to know he’s hanging on to his temper by a very short, very thin thread. “Why?"

  His eyes meet hers but his head stays straight. She asks again as his eyes, empty of emotion, drink her fear in. He’s sucking the strength out of her.

  Does he get some sick pleasure out of all of this?

  “Why me?"

  Scraping his jawline with his fingertips his eyes jump between hers and he almost appears familiar to her again.

  “You're my leverage."

  She shakes her head, the word not sinking in. “’Leverage?’ I don't—”

  “Cops are gonna trail us. That's where you come in."

  He turns directing his attention solely on her. His head slants toward her, his dark brows hooding half his eyes.

  “Hostage, Becky.” He pauses, waiting for her to accept his words and then argue, but when all she does is stare blankly he continues, “You're my hostage."

  Chapter Seventeen

  EVERY BEATING of her heart hurts.

  She isn’t sure how many hours have passed. The drive has been long and arduous and they've been on the same highway for at least several hours. They’re headed north; each road sign the van passed by had said north.

  They’ve been out of town for at least two hours, but the cramps in her legs, the tension rolling under her flesh are all repercussions of a strain that has nothing to do with being stuck in a car for too long.

  Neither have said anything to each other.

  ‘Hostage...’

  There is at least a body width's of distance between them and it should be good enough to make her calm down. It doesn’t. Nothing does when the word ‘hostage’ is rolling over and over again in her head.

  Colt closes his eyes. He doesn’t stir for a few minutes.

  Maybe he’s fallen asleep…

  Should she take this chance to talk to her parents, make sure they’re okay? In a short time she will be torn away from her family and when she’ll be able to see them again is a bleak uncertainty.

  I need to risk it. This could be the last time I see them…

  She looks over at Colt and back to her parents. Her heart hammering she desperately wants to talk to them, but she’s too afraid of the man beside her.

  This is her only chance.

  She opens her mouth—

  He opens his eyes again.

  So close…

  Colt continues his pensive stare at the horizon. Becky sighs quietly making sure to keep motionless beside him. He leans over and whispers something in the driver’s ear. She isn’t close enough to hear but it can’t be anything good. Becky rests her forehead against the window, watching as she presses her fingertips into the glass and lets go as the small dotted markings of her own unique pattern shines back at her. Sighing again the fog of her breath mists into a clear snowball on the window.

  I’d give my life to start over…

  The van slows down as her haunting thoughts part from her. Colt is the first to break the hours of silence. “We're here." His voice resonates close, coming up against her, clearing her mind when she finds him staring at her when he orders, “Out."

  She looks away, straight ahead, hoping her hate
doesn’t manifest itself too plainly. That is a sure-fire-way to give him the upper hand and since her near future consists of his unwanted company and his dark gaze, ambiguity is her best bet for survival.

  Her family is already being shuffled out. She examines the area around them, knowing it will be unfamiliar to her. Small buildings surround them but on the right where the van door is opened, there are trees and bushes separated only by a dumpster and some old useless cardboard boxes. Looks like some abandoned parking-lot behind a few offices or shops.

  “Becky.” The sound of her name, terse and short, coming from his mouth, sets her movements forward.

  He’s waiting by the door and she ignores him as she passes by. His hand comes up surprising her as the indent of his warm fingertips begins to cup her elbow. She recoils as if he burns her, immediately wiping her elbow down. The glare directed at him is one that can kill. Colt doesn’t react. He just looks down until she turns and walks over to her family, halting at his chilling words.

  “Say goodbye. You got five."

  Becky’s ponytail has fallen out somewhere along the way and her hair is in her face, strands sticking to her lips as she quivers, out of breath, “That's not enough time."

  “It’s all you’re getting."

  “Where’re you taking them?"

  He shakes his head, his tone not budging. “You can't know."

  “Yes I can,” she replies. "Tell me where you're taking them. They're my family, for God’s sakes.” She hears her father and mother begging for her to keep quiet, but all she will allow herself to hear is the deafening echo of her anger spring to life. “If you need a hostage then why not take all of us? Why just me?” She comes closer, her body working on a separate engine than her mind. “What’re you going to do to them…? Are you… going to kill them? No... No…” Her voice is weak as it shatters on her last words, “I won't let you."

  Her knees knock together and threaten to plunder her. Behind her, her mother's voice calls out, feeling like miles away. Her hand comes up and leans into the car door. Head down she doesn’t see Colt step toward her, doesn’t see him hesitate as his hands come up only to fall hard at his sides in fists.

  “Pumpkin.” Her father's soothing voice seems to break the gray inside her.