A fire.
Clayton said was. Past tense. There had been a fire, not that there still was one. That’s something I’ve been holding on to since he left ten minutes ago. I locked the front door behind him and watched through the living room window as he rushed across the grass and into the detached garage that holds the golf carts and quad bikes. A few minutes later, he’s tearing through the night on the back of one of the quads. I expected to see some sign of the fire close, but seeing the direction he’s headed makes no sense. The land between our house and Maverick and Leighton’s holds nothing. Unless the fire was at his brother’s. God, I hate not knowing, being afraid for the family that already owns my heart.
There’s no way I’ll be able to go back to sleep.
It was just a little past midnight, I think, by the time we finally fell asleep earlier. I lost track of how long we spent loving each other, but the last time I saw the time, it was close enough to midnight that I’m fairly sure that’s when we passed out. Glancing at the clock above the oven, I wince. Fifteen minutes till two. No wonder it feels like I just fell asleep—I literally did.
Needing to keep my mind occupied, I start the coffee maker and then go to the fridge to pull some breakfast food out. We haven’t eaten since the dinner at Maverick and Leighton’s after the ceremony, but even then, we didn’t eat much. Even if we hadn’t been anxious to be alone, we couldn’t keep our hands—and mouths—off each other long enough to eat anyway. I don’t even think either of us finished half of our food before we were making our excuses and rushing home.
Not knowing how long he’s going to be, I decide to start putting together a quiche. Nothing crazy, but at least it’ll keep me busy. If it weren’t the middle of the night, I would call one of the girls to talk me through my worry. I take my time cutting the onions and bell peppers, the mindless task not taking my mind off my worries at all.
“This isn’t workin’,” I mumble, dumping the diced bits into the bowl.
I grab the piecrust I had already prepped and start to add all the ingredients, my eyes moving to the clock every five minutes or so. I blow out a breath, pick up a handful of peppers and onions, and scatter them on the bottom of the pie tin, covering the crust completely. As satisfied as I can be with my mind in such a jumbled state, I pick up the egg, cheese, and spice mixture and pour that into the crust.
Picking up the quiche, I turn from the island and start to walk to the double ovens. Two steps in and the deafening sound of glass shattering breaks the silence. I scream, my whole body jolting in fear. The pie tin hits the floor, the sticky yellow contents splattering my bare legs and the area all around me. I glance down, confused, seeing the mess before another sound by the back door reminds me what startled me enough to drop the quiche in the first place.
“Hello, Caroline.”
The heinous heat in those two words slams into me, and without looking, I know this is going to be bad. I just hope and pray that whatever happens here, Clayton won’t be harmed.
“Look at me, you stupid bitch!”
I fill my lungs with a deep breath and say a silent prayer. Then I look up from my egg-soaked mess and into the evil glare of Clayton’s ex, Jess. Jess, who is pointing a gun in my direction with wild hair and even wilder eyes.
This is it, Caroline. Time to fight for the beauty you’ve found. No more letting fear win. Not now. Not when it isn’t just your life that’s in jeopardy here.
“Clayton’s going to be back soon,” I tell her, proud of the calm I don’t actually feel in my voice.
She tosses her head back and laughs sinisterly. The gun jerks in her hold while she takes obvious enjoyment out of her crazy thoughts. “Oh, no, he won’t. I made sure he’d be busy for a while.”
“What did you do, Jess?”
My worry for Clayton barrels into me, but I push it aside . . . for now. I focus on where I am in the kitchen and weigh my options while hoping to keep her distracted with questions. If I can just move a little to the left, I can reach the knife block.
“What did I do? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not kidding you.”
“You’ve got some nerve, whore. You show up, move in on my man, and even though I was nice enough to give you a few warnings, you still didn’t listen! Not even when I finished what I didn’t accomplish the first time.”
“You set those fires?” I take a step back slowly when she looks away briefly.
“God, you’re dense. Of course I did. I would’ve taken care of you with the first one, but he assured me you weren’t worth it. He said you wouldn’t stick around. HE SAID I WOULDN’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT YOU AND MY MAN!” She wipes her mouth as spit falls down her chin. “He said all you’d need was a little warning and you’d be too scared to leave the house. WHY DIDN’T YOU LISTEN!”
“Who, Jess? Who said that to you?” I take another step back, my heart thundering in my chest when I almost slip on the sticky mess at my feet.
She moves away from the broken back door, kicking the rock she must’ve thrown through the window out of her way. As the barrel of her handgun gets closer, I feel panic rising in my throat.
“John, you dumbass. He seemed to think you wouldn’t be a threat. One fire, he said, would be enough to make the timid little turtle go back into her shell. I thought he was right. You didn’t come sniffin’ back around my man for a while. But, then you had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you? Shoulda trusted my gut the first time I saw you with Clay at that piece-of-shit bar. Shoulda slit your throat when you left that motel, like I wanted to.”
I shake my head, blown away by what she’s saying. “The motel?”
“The first time I saw you with my man. I left it be because you stayed away and I gave you some time to make sure you wouldn’t go sniffing back around what is mine. I knew Clay would get bored of your used goods. I knew he’d come back to me. But then you had to go and move your trash into my house with my MAN! That’s when I knew you needed more of a reason to run far away from Pine Oak—and Clay. John didn’t want to help me again, but he did when I reminded him who was in charge. No matter what we did, you didn’t take a hint. You were supposed to leave!”
“You and . . . John? Y’all were the ones messin’ up things with the rebuild of my store?” It takes everything in me to keep my voice calm as the panic starts to flow quicker. I just need to keep her talking. Keep her mind distracted. One more step. My hand slowly moves behind my back and I wait until I have an opening, finally being close enough to grab a knife, but not wanting to get shot when she realizes what I’m up to.
There’s no way I’m going to give up without fighting to keep the beautiful life I have—I’ve got too much to live for.
“He didn’t want me to, but I had to finish what I started. Saw right through his stalling and realized he wasn’t really on my team. Stupid motherfucker. You know, I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Now I’m goin’ to be cleanin’ up your blood in my kitchen. You dirty everything up. I should just light this place up so Clay and I can move on without your filth.” Her chest heaves and her eyes narrow as her face gets bright red. “You just couldn’t leave though, could you! Even with your stupid fuckin’ store gone, you still didn’t go. NO ONE WANTS YOU! You’re nothin’ but a paid whore now, moochin’ off my man and livin’ off his dime. There isn’t anything for you here!”
“You’re wrong,” I whisper, wincing when the unhinged madness in her eyes amps up. In my inability to keep from defending what Clayton and I have, I might as well be throwing out a challenge to this madwoman.
“I’m wrong?! I’m WRONG?! You did NOT just say that. There isn’t shit for you here! All you are and all you’ll ever be is a warm hole.”
“How did you get Clayton out of the house?” I hedge, knowing I need to steer her into something a little safer than my relationship with Clayton so I can get out of this kitchen alive.
She grins, evil and wicked, clearly proud of herself. “That dumbass ex of yours.” She laughs, the sound nothing short of vile. “You know, all he wanted to do was apologize. Stupid bastard. I finally realized what he was doin’ when he tried to stop me tonight. The whole time he’s been tryin’ to stop me—I just didn’t realize it until today. Slipped up, he did. Told me you had a diamond on your finger—my diamond—and that he was fuckin’ happy for you. Fool. Found out not long after that Clay married your dumb ass tonight. John couldn’t hide it any longer. He was just blowin’ smoke up my ass, protectin’ you the whole fuckin’ time by keepin’ me from doin’ what I wanted to do all along. Always had a reason why we shouldn’t hurt you. Well, joke’s on him since he damn sure can’t protect you with a bullet through his brain.”
“My God,” I gasp, not dwelling on the thought of John being dead, but recognizing just how far past sane this woman is. There will be time later, when I make it through this, to reflect on everything she’s said tonight—and I will make it through this.
“I made sure to leave Clay that stupid fuck as a present. Left him right next to the ashes of that ugly gazebo I hear you married my man under.”
My heart clenches. Clayton worked so hard building that in our spot. “He’s not goin’ to forgive you for this, Jess. You might think hurtin’ me is the answer, but he’ll hate you more than he already does if you go through with this.”
“HE LOVES ME!” The gun jumps as she waves it in my direction, spit flying from her mouth as she growls. “You don’t know anything!”
“I know everything!”
“Clay loves me. He always has. He was comin’ back to me!”
“He hates you! The second you killed his baby, you made it so he wouldn’t ever feel anything more than hate when he thought about you. When he finds out what you’ve done, he’ll do one more than just hate you. He’ll forget about you. Because that’s what MY husband does when someone wrongs him and doesn’t deserve his forgiveness.”
“Shut up!” she screams, shaking her head and banging her free hand against the side of it.
Taking advantage of the insanity inside her bubbling over, distracting her enough that she lowers the gun just enough so it isn’t pointed at my head anymore and her eyes are no longer wildly hunting me as though I were prey, I lift my hand and grab the first knife handle I reach, pulling it from the block behind my back.
“All he had to do was give me that diamond and I wouldn’t have had to take care of the problem.”
“The problem?” I gasp.
“He didn’t even want a fuckin’ little snot-nosed brat. He said he never wanted them, but I knew he’d marry me if I was carryin’ his child—then I could take care of it and we’d still have each other.”
My hand tightens on the knife, my anger for the wrongs she’s done to Clayton taking on a whole new life. “You bitch! He would have loved that baby. Even with you bein’ stuck in his life because of the child y’all shared, he would have loved it. You’re right, he definitely didn’t want to have a baby with you, but he would’ve been the best damn father. Who knows, maybe he would’ve come around, but you’ll never know, because you killed his child.”
I see it in her eyes the second she decides to pull the trigger, that insane glint that’s been dancing there since she broke in turning into something feral. I move on autopilot, jumping to the side and diving behind the island. Before I fall to the floor, though, my arm flies out and over my head as I release the knife. I don’t even know if I threw it toward her, but it was the only thing I could think of. Fighting a gun with a knife leaves little room for options.
My thigh burns and I cry out when I land hard. My ears ring, the blast from her gun so loud that I feel its power in my bones. My body slides and slips against the eggy mess on the floor as I back toward the hallway. I had expected her to be on me the second I moved, but when I hit the hallway and press my back against the wall, all I hear is silence. Well, muffled silence. Between the gun going off and my thundering heartbeat, I can’t hear much over the bounding tempo of my racing heart and my gasping breaths.
Think, Caroline. You can’t just sit here and wait for her to come back for you. Fight.
The gun safe.
Clayton showed it to me a few weeks ago. Gave me the code, but I didn’t think anything of it. I listen for movement, but still don’t hear much of anything. However, when I go to stand, I realize why my leg is burning, and it has nothing to do with landing on it wrong. There’s a small puddle of redness forming under my leg. Now that I’ve noticed, the bullet wound’s pain becomes all but unbearable.
Linney, fight. FIGHT, baby!
Gritting my teeth, I do the only thing I can and rally. I wipe my hands on my shirt before placing them behind me and turning from the wall. Unable to put weight on my leg, I start scooting back with my good leg, pushing my body down the hall toward Clayton’s office. The red trail against the hardwood floors is unpreventable, even if it’s basically an arrow telling Jess how to find me.
Once I reach the office, it takes me a little while to remember the code, but finally the metal door pops and swings open. I take in the different guns inside, but, not knowing anything about them, I just grab one and pray it’s loaded. I start moving back toward the door but pause to look down at the gun I’m holding, remembering the safety that Clayton had mentioned. He hadn’t been teaching me how to use the gun, merely mentioning how, if I needed it, I would have to click the safety off.
“Where the fuck are you, bitch!”
“Oh, God,” I pant, blinding white fear slamming into me. “Where the heck is it?” I turn the gun around in my hand, finally seeing the small button. After making sure it’s off, I try to move behind his desk, but the fire in my leg makes it hard to breathe without it throbbing.
“I’m goin’ to find you and gut you from your nasty, used cunt all the way to your chest so I can rip out your heart and stuff it down your throat.”
I raise the gun, leaning my back on Clayton’s desk and try to calm my racing heart. I hear her moving, swearing as she does.
I look down at my still bleeding leg. Shit. Using the desk, I pull myself up from the floor and hobble as best I can to the attached bath, cracking the door and placing the tip of the gun between the gap in the direction of the office doorway. I hear her as she moves down the hall, her words incoherent as she rants and slurs. My vision is getting gray around the edges, and I know time is not on my side.
“Gotcha, bitch,” Jess yells, jumping into the office doorway and searching the room wildly. “The fuck did you go?”
My hands don’t even tremble as I adjust my hold on the gun and wait. She takes three steps into the room, stopping right next to where I’m hiding, and with one last slow exhale, my vision now a dull black, I pull the trigger.