“Sammy? Oh, Sammy? Where are you, cupcake? That wasn’t a very nice thing you did.”
A shiver ran over my exposed skin. I reached out, using the dingy wall to keep me upright as I held the bat firmly with my other hand. Drawing in deep breaths of humid, mildew air I forced my legs to run faster. Using the dark house to my advantage, I ran to the front door. It was locked, keeping the horror inside.
I didn’t have time to wonder how Mick got in. He was calling my name again, closer now. With shaking hands, I tried turning the lock, unable to get it open. Tears ran down my face. The lock refused to budge. Sometimes it stuck, especially in wet, humid conditions like today. I tried again and glanced over my shoulder, cursing the stubborn thing. Pam Man was barreling toward me, fury on his face.
“Come on. Come on. Come on,” I whispered, trying the lock again. I heard it give, the click music to my ears.
A bolt of lightning greeted me as I swung the door open. Thunder rolled across the sky and the scent of fresh rain washed over me, renewing my energy. I darted out of the trailer and down the porch steps, my bare feet slipping on the slick wood. Rain hit me instantly, soaking my t-shirt and bare legs. I darted out into the yard, fear chasing me. My feet sank into mud, oozing around my toes.
I heard the door slam open behind me.
“Twenty-four hours, Sammy!” Mick yelled as I dashed out into the rain. “I want that car in twenty-four hours or I come after you and finish what we started! And I put your brother and that thug back in jail where they belong!”
Lightning cracked across the sky again, but it didn’t frighten me. What terrified me were Pam Man’s words.
I looked right and left, wondering where to go. Rain hit me from all sides, making it hard to see. Inches of it sloshed around my bare feet, running over my toes and hitting my ankles. In the back of my mind I realized that it was flooding. At least a foot of water was running down the street like a river.
Despite the rain-filled street, I took off down the road, keeping to the sidewalk, the bat still swinging from my hand. I didn’t know where I was going but I had to get as far away as possible from Pam Man.
Rain soaked my hair and made strands of it fall into my eyes. I pushed it out of the way and sprinted. My breathing was ragged but I drew in big gulps of air, pushing myself to run faster. I didn’t care that the storm was brutal or that I was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. I had to find safety.
A light caught my attention up ahead. At the same time, I heard the deep roar of a truck engine. Pam Man. I picked up my speed, fearing he would run me over or pull up beside me and shove me in his car. A stitch started in my side but I ignored it. Nothing was going to stop me from escaping.
Walker’s old home came into view, the trailer with a light still on despite the late hour. I bounded across the soaked, mushy lawn in three or four leaps. Taking the steps two at a time, I ran up the small porch to the front door, dropping the bat beside me. It clattered to the porch and rolled away as I started banging on the door, screaming for help.
“Mr. Walker! HELP!” I yelled, repeating it again and again.
I heard the squealing of tires and swung around to look. A black truck was zooming out of my driveway, the tires spinning on the wet pavement. A second later it took off down the street, its taillights disappearing in the rain.
A huge sob broke from my chest, then another. Relief left me weak. The rain whipped around, hitting me from all sides. Soaking me. Unable to stand any longer, I sank to my knees on the porch. I put one hand on the door, unable to knock any more. My energy was gone, eaten up by terror. Dry heaves escaped me along with the sobs I couldn’t control.
“Samantha!” a voice suddenly said above me.
I looked up into the startled face of Old Man Walker. He was wearing faded pajama bottoms and an old white t-shirt. His jaw was covered in white whiskers and his eyes were swollen from sleep. The yellow light behind him lit up the porch, taking away the darkness and making me feel safe.
He pushed the screen door open as I fell back on my bottom. I didn’t attempt to stand up. I didn’t have any more strength in me.
“God, child, what happened to you?” he asked, reaching for me.
I cringed, afraid of him. He had hit Walker for so many years. I didn’t know … I couldn’t think straight.
“Walker,” I managed to croak, my throat raw.
“My son do this to you?” he asked, pushing aside my arms so he could lift me up.
“No,” I said, shivering as he carried me into his house. “Need him. Need Cole.”
“Okay. Okay,” he repeated over and over. In two strides he sat me down on the broken-down couch set against the wall.
I shivered and wrapped an arm around my middle, chilled to the bone. Old Man Walker turned away and grabbed the receiver of his old rotary phone. I watched him dial, strands of my wet hair hanging in my eyes.
“Damn it!” Mr. Walker said, holding the phone to his ear. “What kind of son won’t answer a goddamn phone call from his father in the middle of the night?”
He dialed again. I started to fall sideways, just wanting to lie down. My head hit the couch, soaking the faded material with my wet hair. I closed my eyes but forced them back open when I heard Old Man Walker’s voice.
“Cole, you need to come home. It’s Samantha. She’s injured, son.”
Chapter Thirty–Four
-Walker-
I ran down the concrete apartment steps, my feet almost flying out from under me. Rain blasted me from all sides, soaking my black shirt and jeans in seconds. In the back of my mind I noticed that the streets were flooded, the rain at least a foot deep in spots.
Bentley followed me at a run, yelling at me to slow down. Shouting at me to tell him what was wrong. I couldn’t because I didn’t know. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t feel the rain against my face. I was numb to it all. Sam was injured. That’s all I knew.
As soon as I left her house earlier tonight, I lost myself in a bottle. Woke up on the floor of my apartment, my cell phone buzzing in my hand. I wasn’t going to answer it when I saw it was my dad but the second time I did, only to hear the words that stopped my heart - “It’s Samantha. She’s injured, son.”
Fuck!
I swiped a shaky hand over my face, feeling fear crawl up my throat. If I hadn’t been such a chicken shit, I would have told Sam I loved her and spent the night next to her side. I would’ve made love to her again and again until the sun rose. Woke up next to her and made her damn pancakes. I wouldn’t have left her alone or touched a bottle tonight. She wouldn’t be hurt. And I wouldn’t be fucking losing my mind with worry.
It just proved and drove home how much of a screwed-up bastard I was. I destroyed everyone. Every fuckin’ person I cared about.
I dug my keys out of my pocket and ran around the trunk, slipping in the slick, rain-filled parking lot.
“Hand them over. You’ve been drinking,” Bent shouted above the sound of the rain.
I stopped midstride. He was right. I didn’t want to do one more damn thing that was stupid. I tossed the keys to him and ran back around to the passenger side, passing him on the way. We were in the car and flying down the street in seconds.
“What the fuck is going on?” Bent asked, shifting into third as we hit the highway.
“Sam’s been hurt,” I said, my voice sounding like gravel in a tin can.
“WHAT?” Bent shouted.
I watched the empty road ahead, my mind only on Sam. “My dad called and said she was hurt. That’s all I know.”
Bentley hit the steering wheel with a fist. “Shit!”
“Drive, Bent,” I said, wrapping my hand around the door handle when he hit the gas, hitting ninety in seconds.
Before I could blink Bent was slowing the car down, taking the exit ramp too fast. A sharp curve was coming up but I trusted him. The man could drive.
He took the turn with ease, drifting just enough to make me sweat. In seconds he was pulling out of
it, slowing the car to a little over the speed limit. I sat up straighter and leaned forward, watching as we made the turn into our old neighborhood.
Floating trash and flickering streetlights were the only movement along the street. My heart started hammering as we got closer. The savage beast in me was awake, wanting me to let it loose on someone.
Bentley downshifted, causing the engine to softly roar as we raced down the street. My gaze became fixated on the tiny, white trailer up ahead. The lights were on. A tiny porch light cast a soft yellow glow around the yard, deceiving anyone who thought it looked like a safe and cozy home.
Bent pulled the car into the driveway at an angle. I was out of the car and across the yard before he had even turned off the engine.
“Dad!” I yelled, throwing the screen door open and rushing inside.
My dad appeared in front of me, his hands held out in front of him. “Listen, son. She’s banged up pretty bad.”
I pushed past him, my gaze racing around the living room. Chair, coffee table, old TV set, faded couch. My eyes stopped. I froze. Sam was sitting on the edge of the couch, holding a package of frozen peas against her right eye.
“Walker?” she said, lowering the bag.
Holy shit.
Seeing her bruised face was like receiving a hard punch to the gut. All the fights I’d been in, all the bruises I had received and blood that I lost, didn’t compare to the pain that shot through me at seeing the woman I loved in pain.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad glance at me, waiting for me to say something. I couldn’t. The monster in me was out and it was livid. Sam was hurt. The only person I had ever loved was sitting feet from me with a cut lip and bruised face. Seeing her like that almost had me dropping to my knees. But it also made me hate myself more for being an ass and leaving her alone.
“Sam?” Bent shouted, pushing past me as soon as he saw her.
I stood frozen, watching as Bent dropped to the couch beside her. “What the hell happened?” he asked.
“It was Pam Man. He broke into the house. He … he said he’s the one that got the charges against you dropped,” she said, talking carefully around her split lip.
I clenched my fists, my blood boiling. The demons in me screaming for retribution. I wanted to put a fist through the wall. Or better yet, through Mick Rodriguez’s face.
“He wanted me to pay him back,” Sam said, sticking her quavering chin up. “He said I owed him for getting you released.”
I almost lost it. To see tears in her eyes. To watch her try to cover up her fear – it broke me.
“Mick? He did this to you because of me?” Bent asked, his voice raising. “Did he…” Bentley swallowed and forced the words out. “Did he touch you?”
Sam’s voice became smaller. “He tried,” she said, stealing a peek at me.
I went deathly cold, unable to move. Afraid if I did, I might explode with uncontrollable rage. Only one thought ran through my mind – Mick Rodriguez was a dead man.
I clenched my fist, fighting the urge to go to Sam. But what she needed was her brother, not a fuckup like me.
“I’ll kill him!” Bentley shouted. “I’ll fuckin’ rip his dick off!” Coldness took over his eyes, something I had only seen a couple of times. The man was laid back, but mess with his sister and his own darkness came out big time.
“There’s more,” Sam added. “He’s playing both sides, Bent. Yours and Morrows. He said that Lotus you stole had drugs in it. Mick wants them and he wants Walker to get the car for him. He gave him twenty-four hours to get the job done or he makes a call and has both of you arrested. He said he has information that would put you away for good and could do the same to Walker unless he gets that car.”
I felt the rage grow. Nobody threatened me and lived to tell about it.
“Shit!” Bent shouted, jumping to his feet. He started pacing, his body tense. “They told me that Lotus was going to a Saudi prince. It’s one of the fastest made. One of a kind because of some special shit in it.”
“Yeah,” my dad scoffed. “I think we all know what kind of special shit it was now.”
“Crap!” Bent swore, charging back and forth across my dad’s living room. “I should’ve known! Morrow likes to hide his property right under everyone’s noses. How could I be so damned stupid?” He shook his head with disgust. “Someone’s gonna pay for this!”
“What does he have on you, Bent?” Sam asked, interrupting his tirade.
“Nothing,” Bent answered, waving her question away.
I could tell he was hiding something. I had known him since grade school. The guy was lying through his teeth.
“Then tell me what you’ve been doing,” Sam insisted, standing up. “What are you wrapped up in?”
“Nothing,” Bentley said again, stalking to the thin wall of the trailer and back, wearing a path in my dad’s faded green carpet.
Sam jumped in front of him. “I’m your sister, Bentley! Don’t lie to me! I have every right to know what kind of danger you’re in! Tell me!”
Bent pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated and tired like the rest of us. “Sam, it’s not that easy to explain.”
She stuck her chin up, that little attitude I loved showing itself. “Try me.”
Bent shook his head, looking disgusted with himself for what he was about to say. “The people I work for have special clients. International ones with lots of money. People you don’t want to mess with. Mick could have anything on me. Illegal trade. International crimes.” He smirked, his eyes lighting up. “I got a lot of skeletons in my closet, sis.”
Sam tried to appear mad, but I could see her fear. I could almost smell it on her and that fucked me up. The darkness in me wanted for someone to pay. Mick. Bent’s people. Judge Morrow and his posse. It didn’t matter. I wanted revenge.
“Get them on the phone, Bent,” I said in a deadly voice. “Set it up. I’ll get that car and I’ll make Mick wish he had never laid one hand on Sam.”
She swung her gaze over to me, her braid swinging with the action. It landed over her shoulder, the end resting against the breast I had my mouth on a few hours ago.
I avoided her eyes, my gaze dropping down to her legs instead. She was barefoot, making her look so innocent that I wanted to wrap my arms around her and bury my face against her. Ask her forgiveness for not staying all night. For not protecting her from the darkness in me and everyone else. Instead I lifted my eyes, skimming them over my dad’s flannel shirt that Sam wore.
She took a hesitant step toward me, her step wobbly. I shifted my gaze away, afraid to look at her. I didn’t want to see the damage to her face up close. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself if I did.
I was toasted and someone had messed with something that was mine. Rage and liquor was a deadly combination when it mixed in me. The cruelty I kept locked away grew, becoming uncontrollable. The monster in me wanted out. Sam had already been hurt enough tonight. She needed to stay away from me.
When it became obvious that I was trying to avoid her, she stopped, tears in her eyes. But a second later, that quivering chin went up, her stubbornness back.
Good. It was safer this way. Make her hate me. Make her stay away. I was close to punching a hole in the wall right now.
Bent stopped pacing to pull out his cell phone. “Take Sam back to our place, Walker. Keep her safe. I’ll take care of my own mess,” he said, dialing and holding the phone to his ear, waiting for someone to pick up.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked in a shrill voice, grabbing Bent’s arm. “You’re going to get killed!”
Bentley didn’t answer. Instead he kept his eyes on me. “Take her home,” he mouthed.
My gaze flicked to Sam before moving back to Bent. I couldn’t be alone with her. If I touched her… Sweat broke out on my upper lip at the thought. What he was asking was impossible. Dangerous. No, I couldn’t do it.
But I could do something else.
“I’ll do it,?
?? I said in lethal voice, interrupting whatever it was Bentley was saying to the person on the other line. “Mick wants me, he’s got me.”
“WHAT? No!” Sam yelled, her gaze swinging over to me. Her wide eyes were rounded, full of worry. For me. I didn’t deserve it. I never had.
She grabbed my arm but I stood my ground, a part of me begging to touch her. To hold her and take away her fear. But I resisted. I had hurt her enough by leaving her.
I unthreaded her hand from around my arm and watched as Bent covered the phone with his hand. “No way, old man,” he said to me with a cool smile. “It’s my bed and I’m going to lie in it.”
My back went rigid. He only called me old man when it came to driving. I had slowed down over the years, giving up that way of life. Trying to be a better person. But there was no getting better. I was who I was. A driver. A thug. A drunk. A man with a long list of crimes.
And right now I wanted to destroy.
Bent talked quietly to the person on the other end of the phone, jaw set in a rigid line. Each second I waited, my sanity slipped a little more.
Sam stood a few inches from me, her arms wrapped around her middle. “Don’t do this, Walker,” she whispered, peering up at me with those liquid green eyes.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. She smelled too goddamn perfect. Like fresh rain and heaven all mixed into one. My fists clenched at my sides and I widened my stance. My body was poised to attack. And poised to resist her.
As soon as Bent got off the phone, I was on him, itching for the green light. Wanting a victim for my rage.
“What’s the plan? Steal the fucking car again?” I asked, my words clipped, my tone hostile. “Bury Mick for touching her?”
Bent’s jaw tightened with coldness. “Not only are we going to steal the car, but we’re also going to expose Mick’s ass. I know some people that would be very interested in what he’s been doing. The man is a dead man. It’s only a matter of time.”
I saw the chill in Bent’s eyes and knew he would stop at nothing to take Mick down. But I wanted his head on a platter.