Jackson
I
punch the steering wheel and roll out a string of profanities that would make
the Hells Angels blush.
I
watched her call person after person, knowing that most people are either
working or at Summerfest tonight. I was certain to be somewhere on the contact
list. I did not even merit a last resort because she called Beraz. I tighten my
fists on the steering wheel at the knowledge I drove her back to him.
Every
day my life is a boring repeat of the day before: PT, work, barracks. When
Maddy is around, none of the repetition matters. I’ll take any day, any situation,
as long as she’s involved. I cannot get her out of my head. And I screwed up
again.
I
am an idiot.
I
start the car. Before I put it in drive someone opens the passenger door and
slides in. First instinct: Punch the bastard in his face and kick him out of
the car. I draw my fist back and begin memorizing his face in case he gets
away. When I focus on the beady eyes, I realize who is sitting beside me.
“Howyadoin,
son?” Cordell smiles.
“Cordell,”
I greet through clenched teeth.
“Didn’t
your mama teach you it’s not nice to avoid phone calls, boy?” he laughs. He
tilts his chin to Maddy’s vacated seat outside the café. “I see you two have
become pretty good friends.”
What
are the signs of a nervous breakdown? Are symptoms involved or does one just
snap when they reach a breaking point?
“Cordell,”
I say slowly, patiently. “I’ve had a shitty night. If you could just get down
to whatever you are here for, that would be great.”
“That’s
what I like about you, boy. You cut through the crap and get down to the bottom
line.”
Just
as he says this, a black Cadillac pulls into the parking space to my left, so
closely that I would not be able to open my door if needed. Another pulls in on
the right, but not too close. A third and fourth car pull in front and behind
the Barracuda. Larry Duvall is in the car closest to Cordell. The bastard gives
me a mock salute when I look at him.
“Maddy
has . . .” Cordell pauses. “She has caused a lot of problems for me this past
year and, frankly, she’s got to go.”
“What’s
that got to do with me?” I try to stay calm. Every instinct screams at me to
kill this man with my bare hands.
“You
are going to be the one to do it,” he says matter-of-factly.
“No.”
“It’s
your life or hers, son. You choose. Either way, hers is ending.” He shifts in
his seat and continues. “Once you commit to a deal with Cordell Carrington,
you’re in until I decide you’re out. You will do this, son, and you will do it
when, where, and how I tell you. I don’t make idle threats.”
Somewhere
in the middle of pissed off and panic, my training to keep a straight face in
the middle of stress kicks in while I pick which route to take.
“Didn’t
you tell me the day we made our deal that if you have to kill someone you’ll do
it yourself? What happened to that?” Sarcastic smartass route. “Or what about
one of your flunkies? Better yet, you can get old Larry over there to beat the
hell out of her and rape her again before he kills her—you know, for old time’s
sake. Or maybe just as a little addition to your fucking show of who’s the
biggest asshole.”
Cordell’s
fist slams against my nose. I wipe the blood on my shirt but my gaze never
leaves his face.
He
furrows his brow in confusion as my words sink in. “Why did you say that? About
Larry?”
I
scan the parking lot and map the quickest escape route. Cordell is probably
packing heat in his waistband but I don’t care at this point. My plan is to ram
the car in front of me and peel out of here. If I can get far enough ahead of
them, I should be able to crash into an empty building near one of the police
stations. If I make a large enough scene, Cordell will be placed under a spotlight.
This will give me time to warn Maddy.
While
the wheels are turning in my head, I say, “Don’t play stupid. You know Larry
abused her. You know what he did to her all those years, beginning at the ripe
old age of ten and ending when she started to mature and he wasn’t turned on by
her anymore. You fucking know he beat
the hell out of her every chance he got. You were in the house during some of
those beatings, so don’t to tell me you didn’t know.”
“He
ra—” Cordell’s face turns ghost-pale, the tough act deflating from his body. He
shakes his head and says almost inaudibly, “I didn’t know that.”
“Well
you do now,” I say, gripping the steering wheel and readying myself to screech
out of this parking lot before Flunky One and Flunky Two know what’s happening.
Myrtle can outrun a Cadillac any day of the week.
Cordell
lifts his head and glances at Larry Duvall, who waves and smirks. “She never
said anything,” Cordell says. He doesn’t seem to be talking to me at all. “I
loved Maddy once. I knew she would find out one day, but I never thought
someone would send her . . . evidence.”
I
want to tell him that his current wife sent Maddy those disks. Not that I care
so much about CC since she is the one responsible for putting Maddy in this situation,
but I know she wants to keep CC out of Cordell’s path of destruction. I keep my
mouth shut. For now.
“I’ll
be seeing your real soon, boy.” Cordell
opens the car door.
Just
for good asshole measure, I add, “He’s probably moved on to your real daughter
now.”
I
wait less than two minutes before leaving the parking lot. Dialing Maddy’s number, I say a quick prayer
to whoever’s listening and make my way back to Fort Bragg.
Copyright © 2014 by Maria G. Cope
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
