Fallen (36 page)

His mood sank deeper. What he’d originally thought to be a gang marker had been merely adolescent-level retribution. Something a spurned teenager might do to get even with an unfaithful boyfriend. Ryan felt a spasm in his back from his current position, but if he remained immobile it lessened the pain. Based on where he’d been shot, he guessed the bullet had missed vital organs. Otherwise, he’d most likely be dead by now instead of slowly bleeding out. He stared at Molly as she continued playing with the badges, a bitter taste in his mouth. A vision of Adam lying in a grimy alley, alone and mortally wounded, thickened his throat.

“But you took it beyond that,” he pointed out. “The scratches weren’t enough—”

Bitterness filled her voice. “They got what they deserved.”

Ryan noticed it then. There were four shields. The two gold ones mounted on leather wallets were his and Nate’s. The other two belonged to uniformed officers. But she should have had only Matthew Boyce’s. She hadn’t gotten John Watterson’s or Adam’s. He couldn’t see the number on it, but intuition pressed down on him.

“Seth Kimmel … that’s his badge.”

She blinked at him in the slanting sunlight. Putting away the grim keepsakes, Molly moved the duffel aside. She sighed and unfolded her long legs, slinking toward him on all fours. “That
asshole
was the reason I couldn’t get back to Adam. I ran out of the alley when I heard those kids coming. Seth was right there on the street in front of me, gunning that stupid Mustang. He saw me. He could connect me.”

Ryan turned away from her as she ran a fingertip along his jaw. “Seth finally got his roll in the hay. But I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”

Her breath fanned his ear as she pressed closer, her voice suggestive. “Finish what we started earlier? This could be our only chance to be together—”

“That’s not happening—”

“Because of Lydia?” she snapped.

“Because you
shot
me.”

His physical condition didn’t seem to make an impression on her. She peeled off her top that was splotched with his blood, revealing a satin bra, clearly ready to pick up where she’d left off now that her anger over the phone call had ebbed. His skin prickled as she leaned in to nibble on his earlobe, a low purr in her throat as her hand roamed his bared chest. Stomach souring, Ryan leaned away, wincing as pain speared through him. Her palm slid down to the inside of his thigh, squeezing him intimately. She was out of her freaking mind.

The sound of a car traveling up the driveway made them both freeze.

Ryan’s pulse raced. His ears strained for the sound of more than one vehicle and the shuffling of heavy footsteps. Armed officers in SWAT gear. But instead, his heart began to thud as the single car came closer.

Dear God. No.

The familiar sound of the engine was ingrained too deeply in his memory. All those years hearing it pull up outside their home. His eyes watered in recognition.

Lydia’s Volvo.

Rising, Molly carefully looked out between the window blinds.

“That
cunt
.” Features hard, she moved to her duffel and snatched it up, placing it on the bed and shuffling through it. Ryan craned his neck, trying to see what she was up to behind him. She pulled fresh clothes from the bag. Panic made his lungs restrict.

“The door’s locked,” he bargained. “You want to be alone with
me
. You don’t have to answer it—”

“I’m not stupid! Your SUV’s outside. She knows you’re here.”

His breath rasped out of his body. He screamed Lydia’s name, attempting to warn her away.

“Shut up!” Molly stood over him, something gripped in her hand. Ryan went cold as he realized what it was.

The missing stun gun from Matthew Boyce’s belongings.

He tried to scream out another warning, but it died in his throat as she pressed it to his collarbone and held it there. Ryan’s body convulsed with the charge, pain exploding inside him as his mind melted into white noise.

Chapter Thirty

Lydia had been
leaving the cemetery when Tess reached her by cell, telling her she’d noticed the extra key to the house Adam rented was missing from the peg where it hung in the mudroom.

That clue had led her here.

Parked beside Ryan’s SUV, she stared out at the modest white ranch and wondered whether he’d come here to be alone. She couldn’t just call here since Adam had done away with his hard line years ago. Not to mention, Lydia had tried Ryan’s cell several more times, but it had gone straight to voice mail, as if it had been turned off.

I’m not intruding. I’m here with good news.
Taking a breath, she turned off the Volvo’s engine, also cutting off the radio station she’d had on as she drove. Getting out, she walked onto the porch and knocked. She waited, then knocked again. Her stomach flip-flopped as, a few moments later, a familiar blonde—the waitress from McCrosky’s—answered.

“Lydia, right?” She smiled brightly, wiping her hands with a dishtowel she held. “I’m Molly. We met at Frank’s place?”

She nodded, caught off guard. “Of course …”

“I’m sure you’re looking for Ryan. He’s in back, but he’s on the phone.” She opened the door wider and took a step back in invitation. “You must’ve just gotten off work.”

Lydia still wore scrubs and her lab coat. In her haste, she hadn’t taken time to change. She hesitated in the heat, then hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder before stepping inside. Confusion filtered through her. Molly was the one she’d believed Ryan had made plans with the night of Nate’s wake. For all she knew, they had. She tamped down the uneasy feeling she had about her being here now.

“He’s in the bedroom talking with Mateo.” Molly closed the door behind her. “It sounds important. They’ve been going at it for a while. I was just going to make some tea. Would you like some?”

“You’re a friend of Adam’s?” Lydia asked carefully as she followed her through the living area, aware of the other woman’s tall form, clad in faded jeans and a slightly sheer, sleeveless blouse. Her flaxen hair appeared disheveled and hung halfway down her back.

“We’ve gone out a few times. We’re mostly friends, though.” They passed through the hall and entered the kitchen. Dishes were stacked in the sink, and a collection of cereal and granola boxes sat on the counter. Molly put down the dishtowel and turned to her. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here, right? I live close by. Adam gave me an extra key, so I came to check on the place and pick up the mail.”

She made a helpless gesture. “I’m just trying to do what I can to help, you know? I wanted to talk to Ryan, so I’ve been waiting for him to get off the phone.”

Moving to the stove, she picked up the teakettle. “Did you want a cup?”

Lydia shook her head, her muscles tensing as she noticed the mismatched buttons on Molly’s blouse. As if she’d had to redress quickly. Was it possible she had walked in on something here?

She didn’t believe that. Still, her skin tingled, a heavy feeling in her stomach.

“I could ask you instead of Ryan. Is there any change with Adam?”

“We’re … hopeful. His vitals are improved.” Lydia took a step back toward the hall. “Excuse me. I’m going to find Ryan—”

“He’s in the shower, Lydia.”

Lydia turned to look at her, her lips parting at the flat comment. Molly’s eyes were on her, a small, superior smile on her face. She still held the empty teakettle while water ran in the sink behind her. “He’s washing the
sex
off him. He doesn’t even know you’re here. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. Ryan’s been working up the courage to tell you.”

Adrenaline raised the hair on Lydia’s nape. This woman was lying. Something was very wrong. Lydia left the kitchen, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. Reaching the hallway, she called out. “Ryan—”

Something hit the back of her skull with a sickening thud, and Lydia fell to her hands and knees, her backpack slipping off her shoulder. She heard herself moan as dizziness slammed into her, making the floor tilt. The aluminum teakettle rolled on its side nearby. Molly had thrown it at her?

Warmth trickled down her neck. Fear rose like bile in her throat as several drops of blood splattered onto the carpet below her. She swayed, closing her eyes and trying not to pass out.

Was this who … was she …

“Ryan!” she screamed, her voice frail and high-pitched. Molly grabbed at her, trying to wrench her up, but Lydia twisted away, kicking her shin with her sneaker-clad foot and making her bite out a curse. Woozy, she scrambled away on all fours until a metallic sound froze her in place. Lydia had been on the shooting range with Ryan before, and she recognized the sound, her heart turning over. A bullet dropping into a chamber. Lydia felt her insides go weak. She hadn’t seen a gun. Molly must’ve had it hidden in the kitchen. She turned her head to look at her, trying to focus her bleary vision. The gun had a long cylinder attached to the barrel.

“Get up,” Molly ordered.

“Where’s Ryan?” Her breath came in fast, shallow waves. “Tell me where he is!”

She cried out in pain as Molly fisted a hand in her hair, ripping some of it out as she forced her unsteadily to her feet. Standing behind her, Molly wrapped her arm tightly around Lydia’s throat and pressed the gun against her temple with her other hand. Struggling dizzily, Lydia felt more blood leak down the back of her neck.

“I should’ve taken care of you in that garage.” Molly’s hateful voice in her ear sent a hard chill through her. “I had acid to throw in your smug face. Who’d want you after that?”

Lydia felt herself nearly hyperventilating. She recalled that night at the hospital, after her fight with Rick. She’d gotten paranoid someone was following her, and she’d rushed to her car with her key chain and pepper spray in hand. The pepper spray. Lydia’s heart sank. It was in her backpack. Her eyes moved sluggishly to the blue-and-white striped bag on the floor. Molly walked backward with her toward the kitchen, her forearm compressing her windpipe and the gun to her head.

Where
was
Ryan?

Molly tightened her hold and dragged her when she tried to resist. “Since you’ve shown up uninvited,
Lydia
, maybe we need to revisit that plan.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Ryan’s eyes fluttered
open. With effort, he pulled his head upright as all of it came rushing back to him. Lydia’s arrival. The stun gun that must have jolted him into unconsciousness. His muscles were still numb and weak from the charge, but his heart clenched at Molly’s voice coming from somewhere inside the house, indiscernible but threatening.

She had her. Lydia’s terrified cries made something break loose inside him.

He fought against the zip-ties binding his wrists to the legs of the footboard. The makeshift dressing over his wound had fallen away, the stun gun’s violent current apparently catalyzing the bleeding. Ryan felt lightheaded at the bright, fresh blood soaking through the lower right quadrant of his shirt.

Lydia screamed for him.

Fear clouded Ryan’s vision. He had to get free. If it killed him, he had to get to her, protect her from that psychotic bitch.

Desperate, he pulled again at his restraints, causing pain that stole his breath. Perspiration rolled down his back.

Get past the panic and think. She’s still alive because Molly wants to play with her. But you’re running out of time.

Ryan couldn’t pull his way free of the zip-ties, couldn’t break them, but could he leverage the footboard off the floor just enough to slide the plastic strips down its legs to free himself? He didn’t know where the strength would come from, but he had to find it. He wasn’t even certain he could stand.

Craning his neck, he looked around as best he could. Molly had left his Glock on the bureau, confident he couldn’t escape.

Lydia’s cries pumped adrenaline into him.

Ryan braced his feet against the adjacent wall, applying his weight to the footboard as he pushed up using his back. Searing pain tore through him. He heard his own anguished groan and felt sweat pour from his body. The effort intensified the burning in his side and made more blood seep out of him.