BUFF Page 16

  “I'm okay,” she gulps, taking a large deep breath, “I'm okay.” She half smiles, determined to convince her father—all of them—that she isn’t going to break. “I'm okay."

  “Come here.” Her father doesn’t have to ask again. She is in his arms, wraps in him so securely she can barely draw breath. Warm and safe she inhales, her face buried in her father's chest. He smells like peppermint and old spice.

  He smells like home.

  “Daddy.” The first tear falls and something inside her caves in as well.

  “Shssh… Hey, pumpkin.” He draws her away from the warm cocoon of his body to capture her face between his hands. “You listen to me. You have been so brave. I have never been more proud of anyone in my entire life—"

  “Dad.” She shakes her head to stop him. She doesn’t like the note of finality his tone carries.

  “—But right now I need you to be stronger than you've ever been. Don't try to be a hero. Don't try to save us, Pumpkin. I want you to take care of yourself. Listen to Mr. Lawson, please. If I know you're okay then I'll be okay."

  She fights the sobs building up, biting the tip of her tongue to stop the wail of anguish that rushes up at her. “I can't do this,” she admits, in a whisper only they can hear. “I can't. I don't want to leave you."

  “Yes, Pumpkin. Yes, you can.” There is no doubt in his words. He is so confident in her strength; she doesn’t deserve such faith.

  “I love you,” he says, softly, kissing her forehead as she grips his wrists and digs her nails into the flesh, unwilling to let go.

  He releases her face, backing away from their embrace, but her fingers cling to him. “Dad,” she cries, “Dad, don't leave me."

  Colt clears his throat. “Time’s up."

  Forcing the bile down she rubs her nose and looks around… at nothing.

  “Jenson’s not here yet. Gotta wait," the blonde man says.

  “He will be.” She hears Colt move closer. “We gotta go."

  The touch of his fingers coming against her again sends her spiraling away from him, out of his clutches.

  “Don't you touch me,” she snarls.

  There is nothing he can do to her, no pain he can inflict that won’t hurt more than the agony she is suffering at his hands. At this point so much is possible. He can slap her, drag her into the car, beat her until she submits. Whatever it is she waits for it, uncaring.

  “You’re a monster.”

  Her chin comes up and her eyes become hazy. Instead of a sharp order he sticks to his silence. He stills, licking his lips and holding her captive with his eyes.

  “I won't hurt you." His tone is angry but tender as though her words bruised him. “Believe me.”

  She doesn’t swallow his promise. “Believe you?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “I'm not leaving."

  He comes nearer, just a step, but enough to make her whole body feel chills. “I won't hurt you,” he repeats, slower, his stare boring into her, causing the bones under her skin to spring up like an electric volt is being shot into her.

  She will never allow such reckless abandonment of feeling ever to impair her senses again.

  Becky raises an eyebrow, takes a large step back as she sneers and huffs at him. She'll spit nails before assuming any truth in the man—the monster—before her.

  Her mouth opens just as the color of his face blooms from tan to red in a hot second. There is no misreading his face this time.

  He’s mad.

  “I said I'm not going with you and I meant—”

  He advances on her so quickly, all Becky sees is a blur, and next he’s over her.

  “Get in the car or I'll—”

  “You'll what? Kill me? Kill my family? Kill a two-year-old?” she spits back. “You're a low-life murdering pig and you expect me to believe you—to get in there and drive away with you. I'd rather be shot in the head first."

  “Becky—"

  “Drop dead."

  “Don't have time for this shit, we're wasting time."

  “Time? So you can send my family away and have them killed? Get the goddamn job done without exposing to anyone what a disgusting miserable excuse for a human being you really are?!"

  “That's it."

  Oh no… I’ve gone too far this time...

  His hand comes down on her shoulder and his forearm wraps around the back of her legs. Her body stalls. Her anger has gotten the better of her again and by the time she realizes what he’s doing to her she is already hauled over his shoulder and locked in place. Her wiggling is useless in the strong binding of his arms. It doesn't stop her from trying though.

  “Don't hurt her… please.” She hears her mother’s muffled plea between sobs. “Please just let her be... She's a good girl, really… Please let her stay with us."

  He hoists her up for a firmer hold, jerking his body in her family's direction. “When Jenson gets here get them in and out of here. No stops, yeah?"

  The skinny guy nods. “When you want me to—”

  “The minute they're settled. Tell Jenson I don't wanna hear from him. If I need anything I'll contact him. Otherwise, nothing."

  “Kulich?”

  She feels Colt straighten and heave out a short breath as he pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. “Deal with him when we get—Ow! Fuck!”

  Biting him in the middle of his back, Becky makes him jerk forward, but his sharp reflexes steady him.

  He curses under his breath. “Remember what I said," he mutters.

  Rounding the front of the van she hears her father call out. Colt stops.

  “Mr. Lawson. Please take care of her. Don't… don't hurt her."

  Colt twists around. “Your daughter is the least of your worries. Do as you're told and you and your family might make it through this alive."

  Colt strides to the front of the driver's side letting Becky get on her feet in one fast motion. The keys dangle in front of him as she straightens her hunched position. Pushing the hair from her face she takes a ragged breath and just as he leans in to get a peek at her she shoves him. He doesn’t go very far only faltering a step, but when he sees her hands come up to do it again, his eyes flash. He blocks her feeble attack and manacles her wrists with his large hands, tugging them in place at her sides.

  His face is almost buried in hers. “Get in the car,” he grunts. “Now."

  Becky twists under the pressure of his hands. Her tiny wrists burn the more she moves, but she doesn’t stop as she spits, “You ever do that again and I'll bite a more sensitive area.” Her eyes slip lower then come back up in an unmistakable message. “Got it?"

  There is no misconstruing the hint of a smile that comes and passes on his face. He straightens, still too close for comfort, but at least he isn’t as unnervingly near.

  “Think I liked you better when you were shy."

  She squints her eyes at the keys still dangling from his finger. “I know I liked you better when you were shot and unconscious."

  He sighs, taking her hand and plopping the keys in her open palm. She looks at them as if they’ve fallen from the Sky.

  “Move.” He grabs the latch of the door behind her. She doesn’t move. “They're keys, Becky."

  “I don't understand…” His eyes skip between her and the keys in her hand. “What? Why am I driving?"

  “Cops are gonna be looking for a driver matching my description. You drive and it helps our chances."

  When the answer doesn’t jolt her into action he gently but firmly pushes her to the side, opening the door the rest of the way then leads her in with a nudge from her lower back. He stands there until she starts the car.

  He comes around and is in his seat before she has time to understand what’s really happening here.

  I’m leaving my family... Will I ever see them again?

  Her small fingers grip the wheel tight refusing to accept this and turns her head to the right and then to the left, leaning over the steering wheel to catch a glimpse of her family. They’r
e too far from the car and the windows are too tinted in the back for a good enough view to at least wave a goodbye.

  “Becky."

  She sniffles, putting the car in drive. “Shut up,” she mutters, torn. “Just shut up."

  And he does. He doesn’t say one word for the rest of the ride. Good. As far as she’s concerned she never wants to speak to him again.

  He is the storm that tore her family apart.

  * * *

  A SNAIL MOVES FASTER than she drives.

  It takes all of Colt's strength not to pull her off the wheel and jam the gas pedal till his foot smacks the ground. He doesn’t know if she’s doing this on purpose, but he isn’t going to argue. Fighting with her always seems to slow plans down and time is a commodity they can’t waste. So he sits, not moving, trying harder than ever not to think.

  Fucking cops.

  He keeps coming back to that. He isn’t sure who made the call. He knows it wasn’t one of the Appletons. None of them ever left his sight long enough to sneak a call. He doesn’t know who it was but when he finds out...

  The sign for a rest stop zips past them. He straightens, clearing his throat. Now that it’s just the two of them he feels uneasy.

  He doesn’t trust himself to do what’s needed.

  She’s more unpredictable than any person he's ever met and that makes for a damn nuisance when it comes to his mission. A temper like hers is only asking for trouble. And having the cops on them is making Colt feel more on edge. Pretty much dangling over the edge.

  “Pull off the next exit."

  “Why?”

  He peeks a look from the corner of his eye, not turning. She looks especially tiny behind the wheel. He also notices how it seems to hurt whenever she tries to swallow. His eyes narrow but he doesn’t voice his concern.

  “Supplies." She raises an eyebrow. “Town is far from where we're staying." He doesn’t know why but his answer darkens her appearance, like a shadow casts over her. She nods but it’s faint, almost nonexistent. She looks like her heart has been ripped out and something punches in his gut.

  He did that.

  Sitting so close to her he can’t excuse the dark shadows forming under her eyes, the lines that accent them. Her loose soft brown curls are limp around her, no longer shiny like the side of a polished gem. Her gorgeous green eyes have lost their luster and her body looks ready to crumble. Every now and then she will shake, some part of her will tremble. And he can tell she’s holding herself together to stop the tremors, but she can’t hide them.

  She can’t hide from him.

  His hand fits around the cool metal latch of the door, suddenly angry, but for a whole different set of reasons.

  The car halts to a stop. Becky shifts the gear in park and sits—her face, her body, not moving from its driving position.

  “Let's go."

  “I'd rather stay if that's okay."

  “I wasn’t asking. Let's go.” He opens the door, pushes it halfway then stops. “Becky, I mean it."

  She licks her cracked lips, but the move doesn’t recover the moisture that usually makes them glisten like the shell of petals.

  She takes the car keys, throws them at his face before going to unlock and open her side door. His hand comes up and catches the keys without breaking her from his sight just as she mutters, “Asshole.”

  When he meets her at the back of the SUV her eyes fix on the small gas station in front of them.

  “Stop fighting me."

  “Stop being an asshole then and let me go."

  He starts toward the store. “You keep this up and you're just making it worse for yourself."

  “Where did you send my family?"

  She doesn’t move from her spot. “Quit asking me questions I can't answer."

  She storms toward him, grabbing at his elbow to face her. “Are they dead?" He eyes her, watching her eyes bob back and forth, tears springing to her lashes. The air in his lungs burn his breathing passage. He tries to swallow for release but can't. “Are they?” Her question guttural, hopeless. “You killed them, didn’t you?"

  When the first tear falls Colt feels the moisture like a bullet in his heart. He remains stiff in front of her, casting a look at the gas station. “They're alive." Her intake of breath is like a surge of fresh air to his body. “For now."

  Her head begins to shake, her mouth opening and closing before the words tumble out. “Colt, please… Whatever you want—money—whatever it is my father can help. He knows people—”

  “There's nothing your dad has that I’ll ever want."

  Both Colt and Becky seem to catch the double meaning of the statement.

  Becky looks away but Colt can’t. For some reason he feels compelled to rectify his words and that anchors his anger deeper. He owes her no explanation. This is his job and whether she knows it or not her father has stabbed Kulich in the back and him as well.

  “Do as I say and they might live, Becky."

  Her eyes harden and taking a step back she heads toward the store without another glance his way.

  “Go to Hell!” she yells, unabashedly, without turning back.

  Grabbing everything he needs from inside the store he finds her in the magazine and books aisle. Her eyes are fixing on some red-covered paperback. Colt catches the words: Hot and scandal.

  Chick book.

  Her body goes ramrod straight when his oncoming build draws close in proximity. Her cheeks glow pink and her eyes dart the plethora of reading material, grabbing the first magazine she can.

  He fights his smirk hard. “Didn't know you're into fishing?"

  “Hmm,” she answers, pretending to be fascinated with the fishing magazine.

  "Finished?"

  “Yeah, I'd love to go home."

  “Funny.”

  He starts walking to the other end of the aisle. “Let's go."

  She falls a step behind. “Who says I'm kidding?” she shoots back. He can feel her stare stabbing his back.

  He goes straight up to the cashier handing the large basket to the elderly gent behind the counter.

  “An even fifty, mister."

  Colt digs into his pocket, fishing out the small wad of neatly-folded cash and hands two twenties before thumbing for the ten underneath the rest of the bills. “Here.” He slaps the money down and suddenly realizes how silent and unusually quiet the company at his side is.

  He turns to his right, then his left. His eyes shoot up. “Becky,” he calls out, unable to restrain the anger that traces in her name.

  Panic and fury simmer in his veins but then his eyes find her, standing in between the mechanical doors that swing in and out. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s grabbing the bag as her feet stomp the mat that opens to the exit. He really doesn’t like how fast she's walking. He doesn’t want to draw attention.

  He hisses out to her, “Becky."

  The one word should have stopped her, but it only furthers her steps to quicken and that's when he pauses.

  Shit!

  Cop car.

  It's parked opposite them on the other side of the grassy hill that separates the two parking-lots. The police officer is still in his car, his head is down but it won’t be for long if Colt starts running after her, barking, like he wants to.

  “Becky.” The last syllable of her name edges close to the blade of his anger.

  She wouldn't dare... Oh, fuck she would.

  But he's too late.

  She starts running and he has little time to think of a plan of action that won’t get them—him—caught.

  Abandoning the shopping bag on the pavement he dashes ahead, coming behind the SUV just as her feet begin mounting the small hill.

  “Officer—”

  Becky only gets one word out before he comes down on her like a ton of bricks.

  He hurdles his body into hers, smashing them both into the bumpy grass; their bodies, intertwined, as they fall forward. Becky goes down first. Colt protects her from
the fall by pushing her into him and cupping her head to his chest.

  Somehow he ends up on top of her, her hands pinned to both sides of her face as he cradles her tiny midsection in between his large thighs, squeezing her body tight. He keeps her face buried in his chest, knowing if he releases her she’ll start screaming.

  The door of a car opens. It shuts next to him, shooting off the tension inside him.

  “What's going on here?” There is no mistaking the sharp northern accent of the cop proceeding toward them.

  His mouth is on her ear, so close, that when he opens to speak, his lips can’t help but touch the shell. “Don't.” His demand is just a breath into her ear. “Don't even think about it."

  She juts her midsection out to try and hit him in the groin, but she can’t get enough power to put any strength into the assault. His arms bracket her face from the cop's view, her screams muffling into his chest.

  The crunch of boots sends him spurring into action.

  “I said, what the hell's going on over here?” The police officer moves a step closer. “Ma'am, you okay?"

  Colt licks his lips, breathing in, taking in the sweet aroma of her body; the smell more powerful than he's ready for.

  He lets up on the pressure of his chest that compresses her into the ground. He closes his eyes, shifting lower and pressing his face into hers. His eyelashes brushes and tangles with hers as his nose smushes into her cheek.

  His lips might as well be kissing her. When he moves to speak they touch hers, slipping up and down as they catch in between and over her mouth like open kisses, but with words. Her lips taste sweet like honey.

  “You talk and you're family—”

  “Piss off,” she whispers, lowly. When his eyes fix on her mouth, panic wells in her orbs, swelling her eyes like two large balloons. “Don't you dare,” she warns, her lips parting and hitting his.

  Both their mouths are open, caressing one another, but Colt doesn’t move away. Can’t move away.

  The officer isn’t leaving.

  He has no choice. He has no fucking choice!

  Colt's eyes finds her mouth again, purposefully ignoring the shaft of warmth that floods him. He curses the cop as his head comes down, his intentions remarkably clear to him—and his captive.