Fatal Burn (West Coast 2) - Page 183

His smile, white teeth and thin lips were the embodiment of evil. “So you haven’t forgotten me.”

“But you…you…”

“I’m supposed to be dead, aren’t I?” He walked closer. Taut, strident muscles moved beneath skin stretched tight, as if he’d worked out every day since she’d last seen him. Revulsion and panic stormed through her. Think, Shannon, think. Don’t let him win. You have to fight. She closed her eyes for a second, tried and failed to get her bearings.

“Surprise, surprise.” His voice was silky and smug.

“I don’t understand.” She opened her eyes. Stared at the face she’d once loved and now despised. He was aberrant, a sick, demented freak. Somehow, someway, she had to save herself.

Outside it was dark as pitch, the windows showing nothing but blackness. Wherever they were it was remote. She couldn’t expect any help. The cavalry wouldn’t be riding up.

Don’t give up. Do not let this bastard win!

“Of course you don’t understand,” he said, walking in a broad circle around her, not getting close. She saw his back, hideously scarred and she shivered. “But then you never understood me, wifey, now did you?”

The gas! Where the hell was the gas? Heart thudding with fear, Shannon searched the shadows, saw no sign of a can…had he poured it out? It was too dark to see, but in the fire’s reflection she noticed dark lines on the floor. What was that? He hadn’t poured the gas out, had he? And why did it burn her nostrils? As if it were…oh, God, she looked down at her clothes. Surely he hadn’t…

“The trouble was, Shannon, you were never as smart as you liked to pretend. You thought you’d gotten away with it, didn’t you? The perfect murder?”

“What are you talking about?” She needed to keep him engaged in the conversation. She needed a way out, an escape route. But her clothes! Had he soaked her clothes in gasoline? Was that why he was naked and she was still dressed? “Wha–what murder? You know I didn’t try to kill you. What did you do, stage it? Why? Did you want to disappear?” She had trouble concentrating. Fear spread through her like a plague and sweat slid down her spine.

“I had to. You know it. You were behind it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play innocent with me!” he said, snapping. “Your brothers, ever your protectors, decided to get rid of me. Your brothers. My in-laws.” He hooked a thumb at his naked chest. “My coworkers, supposedly my goddamned friends. All their dirty little secrets.”

“What secrets?” she asked, but she knew it had something to do with the star, something to do with the acronym.

“Don’t play dumb! ARSONS…Aaron, Robert, Shea, Oliver, Neville and finally Shannon,” he said, spitting her name as he circled her. He was worked up. His hands were waving now. She tried to keep his face in her eyesight, watch for any indication of what he was going to do.

But she knew, didn’t she? The smell of gas warned her of her certain, painful death.

“Can’t you drive any f

aster?” Travis demanded as the truck barreled up the narrow, winding logging road. Outside it was black as death, the headlights of Nate’s truck cutting through the thick darkness.

“You want us to get there alive, don’t you?” Santana growled, but he punched it and the wheels of his truck spun wildly, digging in.

“There it is!” Dani said as a narrow bridge came into view. “This is where he was parked.”

Travis’s heart nosedived as he imagined his daughter with the madman who now had Shannon.

They’d driven steadily through these forested hills and with each minute elapsing he was going out of his mind. He prayed that Shannon was still alive and that they would find her, that Dani was right and he had taken her back to his lair.

Wherever that was.

Otherwise he might never see her alive again.

Fear congealed his blood and he held fast to his daughter.

Let her be alive, he silently prayed. Let us find her…oh, Jesus, please!

Shannon pulled at her restraints so hard her wrists ached.

Ryan was pacing. Explaining. Obviously glad to unburden himself.

“Your brothers, they went through this big, ridiculous ceremony…standing at points of a star in the woods, like they were part of a secret society, and one by one, they pledged to kill me. Can you imagine?” He leaned closer, his nose an inch from hers. “Because of you. Because they wanted to protect you, from me. And I was your husband! Your husband! You were supposed to love me! Honor me! Obey me! You remember those vows, bitch?” he raved. His hand lifted as if to strike her.

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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