Page 105 of The Marriage Deal
I freeze, crouching down next to a bony bush of Oregon Grapes.
The car door opens, and a man swings one leg out, then two. He stands and I feel my gut drop into my boots.
Fuck, no.
I snap a photo that’s too blurry to do much of anything and shoot it off to Briggs with a text that says call 9-1-1. He’s probably already made it into town by now. It’ll take him at least fifteen to get back.
A lot can happen in fifteen minutes.
I silence my phone as any good sleuth would do and shove it back into my pocket. I watch the man disappear into the stone of the front entrance as an alarm bell of curses blares loud in my mind. I can’t imagine Lilah would just open the door for anyone. I also can’t imagine that a man in his line of profession isn’t equipped with the tools to break seamlessly into a locked front door.
A beat passes and I hear a string of angry barks. Senior must be on the patio, and if he’s losing his shit like he is, I imagine the door is closed and he can’t get to Lilah.
Clearly, she opened the door. Or he picked the lock.
Either way, he’s inside and Lilah has no protection.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.It’s a chant in my mind as I race from my hiding spot behind the Oregon Grape bush to the house.
Then I stop. What the hell am I going to do? Bring a hammer to a gun fight?
Fuck!
My heart is a thunderclap on repeat in my chest. I can hear the swoosh of blood between my ears. Every sound is amplified, even those of my own body.
Is today the day I die? Is today the day I fail to save Lilah?
No. No, I won’t think like that.
My hands tremble as I pat myself down. I’m not on the tools, but I wear them like I am. Always have and after today I always will.
I’ve got a hammer, a blade, and a pouch full of nails.
I look to the black sedan. It’s his escape, if nothing less. And considering what I know of the past victims who went missing after run-ins with this crew, I know they don’t leave a trial of bodies behind as evidence. They take the bodies and do—the devil knows what they do with those bodies.
But today isn’t the day he takes Lilah.
Crouching low against the back tire on the passenger side between the sedan and Lilah’s Tahoe, I pull out my hammer and a nail. I drill it into the tread of the tire, making it look natural.
Then I drive my blade into the inner rubber of the tire, flattening it fast.
My heart is pounding in my ears as I turn to Lilah’s SUV. I’ve heard Briggs huff and puff about how sheleaves her car unlocked, and I fucking pray that today isn’t the day she’s decided to start listening to him.
With my hand on the back door of the driver’s side, I pull and feel complete relief as the door opens. I crawl into the back, thanking heaven above that the windows are blacked out with tint. I know from experience a man can’t see inside unless his face is damn near pressed to the window.
Then I wait. I don’t have to wait long before I see them. Lilah with her face pale and streaked with tears and the fucker who already destroyed her life once behind her, his gun to her back.
Her entire body trembles with every step she takes, and I can hear her pleading with him to just forget about her. To let her live her life.
“Haven’t you taken enough from me?” she asks him, sharp sobs cutting between her words.
He pushes the tip of the gun into her spine. “Get in the car, darling.”
“Don’t call me that, you sick pig.”
He laughs. The fucking psychopath laughs.
Lilah bites down on her lip, I think to tamp down another sob.
