Page 46 of Up in Smoke
So she’d waited…hoping to what? She didn’t know exactly. Scare him into leaving her alone? Appealing to a man who had an irrational hatred of her because of something that happened when she was a child? On top of the long shot that he would evenlistento her, since when was she capable of convincing anyone of anything? She didn’t exactly have a reputation for being coolheaded and reasonable, especially when it came to this man.
No, she was far more comfortable in the darkness, holding a metal skillet in her hand, as she was at that moment, although she wished it were a book of matches instead. She inhaled and relished the scent of the kerosene she’d splashed strategically around the house’s inside perimeter. Yeah, matches would be abadidea.
Located in Park Ridge, not too far from the airport, the house had an almost identical layout to his home in Florida. Setting foot inside it hadn’t been easy. Memories had threatened to breach her walls, but she breathed through them.
The weight of the skillet was reassuring. Over the course of the night, it felt like the only thing keeping her from floating up and hitting the ceiling. With each passing hour, she felt less and less real. After nearly four days without exchanging a single word with another person, namely Connor, she was beginning to feel insubstantial. The way she’d felt in solitary. A twist on the age-old question about the tree falling in the woods. If no one was around to communicate with her, did she really exist? She was slipping. Slipping back into that cave without light, and it scared her. She’d never needed anyone before, but she needed Connor now. Needed to be held and made to feel real.
What am I doing here?
That question was the only thing helping. In the past, she’d never once second-guessed her impulses. If she wanted to whack her stepfather upside the head with a blunt object, burn down his house and cackle at the moon afterward, she did it. For so long, she’d existed without a regard for consequences. So what if she ended up in prison? She’d just get herself out. So what if she got another charge on her record? Harvard wasn’t exactly an option at this point anyway. Yet as she sat in the darkness, she found herself anxious. Wondering if there had been any new developments on the Maxwell Stark case. Had the squad solved it without her? The very fact that she didn’t want to be in her stepfather’s house lying in wait, that it feltwrong, told her something inside her had changed for the better. She couldn’t identify it or name it. Right now, it was only a feeling. But she held on tight to it because it made her feel human when in reality, she was someone else’s monster hiding in the darkness.
Ice formed in her veins when her stepfather’s heavy tread moved down the hallway. She didn’t have a plan. Didn’t know what she would do when faced with the man who’d spawned so many nightmares. Her modus operandi had been to avoid him. He wouldn’t expect her to show up. The smile on his face outside the courthouse had been smug. Secure. He thought she would run.
Not this time. If she ran, he would follow. He continued to prove that over and over. Now that the money was being released to her, he’d be twice as tenacious. It would never end. She would never again sleep as soundly as she had in Connor’s bed. His specter would hang over the bed like a ghost, no matter what she did. It would smother her. Knowing him, he would find out her weakness for Connor and use him against her.My Connor.
Her blood went from cold to boiling. Maybe shecouldkill him.
With that possibility lingering in her head, she slowly eased off the washing machine, dropping onto the balls of her feet without a single tinkle from the bells. A light went on in the kitchen and she pressed her back against the wall beside the partially open door. Too many potential weapons in the kitchen. If she charged him, he would have time to pick one up. No, she would wait until he got close enough to the door and make her move.
What am I doing here?
Erin shook her head hard to clear the doubt. This was what she’ddreamedof. Confronting the face behind the whirlwind of fire. The man who’d made her helpless. Made herbeg. She shouldn’t be considering slipping out the back door and returning to safety. To a man. That was weak. Beneath her.
The thoughts distracted her a second too long. She wasn’t prepared when the laundry room door opened and her stepfather walked inside. All she could do was act. The skillet rose on its own and uppercut Luther in the jaw. She couldn’t deny the satisfaction his shout of pain gave her as he stumbled back, hit the opposite wall, and crashed to the floor.
Her teeth bared themselves. “Ding dong, motherfucker. Someone just got their bell rung.”
He clutched his jaw, scrambling back against the wall. “You…” The pain of talking caused him to flinch. “You’re here?”
Fear. There was still fear at being this close to him, but she forced it into hiding. “Didn’t expect me, did you?” She twirled the skillet in her hand. “That’s the thing about crazy people. You can’t predict what the fuck they’re going to do.”
His head moved on a swivel, searching around him. Probably for something to use as a weapon or to block her should she swing the skillet again. Too bad towels were the only things in reaching distance. She saw the exact moment he smelled the kerosene, barely suppressed fear sparking and fading in his eyes. “What do you want, you lunatic bitch?”
Erin clucked her tongue. “That’s no way to talk to someone holding a weapon.” She ran her finger around the metal edge. “Someone with violent tendencies. Someone who you’re trying to screw out of a boatload of money.”
“Sheowesme that money,” her stepfather sneered. “If not for fucking around behind my back, fucking with mylife, then at least for saddling me with her illegitimate brat.”
Can’t hurt me. Words can’t hurt me.“It’s too bad you see it that way. I don’t even want the money, but I’d rather send it gift-wrapped to the government than let you have it.”
“What are you going to do to stop me?Killme?” There it was. The almost glowing evil that always transformed him. Made him appear to be a wax sculpture, frozen in hatred. Here she stood with the upper hand and his expression said,you can’t win. It was almost enough to make her believe it.Maybe he can’t be killed, she’d told Connor.
His confidence made her waver.What am I doing here?She tightened her grip around the skillet and battled back. “Yeah, maybe I am.” She took a step closer, felt her anger rising. “Don’t act so damn surprised. You don’t treat a human being the way you treated me and expect them toforget.”
Luther eyed the skillet. “Always blaming everyone else. Me, the system. We all have choices in life. We each choose our own path.”
“No.No.” The sound in her head started quietly, a beating of wings, but it might as well have been a symphony tuning up. It meant she was losing control, and that heightened the terror of being this close to her tormentor. “I didn’t f-fail. I have a job now, I’m—”
His harsh laugh cut her off. “How long do you think that will last? Look at you. You broke into my house to assault me. How long do you think it’ll take before they realize you’re just a broken toy?”
“No.” The wings beat louder.LOUDER. She heard a sound in the distance and realized she’d dropped the skillet. Her stepfather shot forward the retrieve it, jolting her into motion. They both grabbed on to the handle at the same time, resulting in a tug of war. Her survival instincts roared to the surface. Luther might be an evil man, but he hadn’t been in prison. He spent his days in an air-conditioned office, sipping Starbucks. She’d fought for her life behind bars. When you’d done it once, you never fought halfway again. Full throttle became your only setting.
His hand slipped down the handle and brushed against her skin, wrenching a scream from her throat.Burning. It’s burning. Erin twisted around and brought her boot down hard on his wrist. Once, twice, three times. He howled and dropped the handle, sending her reeling back at the loss of leverage. With the skillet in her hand, she launched herself forward again, meeting him halfway. She hadn’t expected him to charge. He must have seen something in her eyes that told him it was kill or be killed.
She held the skillet out of his reach, simultaneously bringing her forehead down on his nose in a full-force head butt. The crunch of cartilage echoed in the tiny room. He fell onto his back, holding his bleeding nose, shouting obscenities that were muffled by his hands. Erin came to her feet and loomed over him. This was it. Where she’d always pictured herself when revenge was allowed its fantasy. Standing over his cringing body with all the power in her hand. Power he’d once taken away. All she had to do was bring the object in her hand down on his skull and it would be over. No more wondering when he’d show up to terrorize her. No more threat of being locked away.
The ever-present matches in her pocket heated against her hip. She could already smell the singular scent the match strike would give off. Sultry. Decadent. So sweet. Crackles and pops sounded in her ears from the blessed fire that could take this all away. Erase it.
No more Connor. No more friends. No more team.
