Authors: Kylie Brant
Waking Evil 02 (52 page)
The three goons joining Banty in the circle of headlights all wore ear-splitting grins. One of them cackled in agreement.
“He don’t look like he’s in the mood for a party.” This from the guy Dev assumed was Zach Harris, since he’d gotten out of a piece-of-shit red truck, the twin for the one he’d seen after the brick had been heaved at his house.
He studied them all in the dim light. “Hey, Zach. Guess you got tired of throwin’ bricks through windows, huh?” The grin abruptly faded from the man’s face. One man was a stranger to Dev. He figured it was someone Banty worked with at the mill. The third was Arvin Tester, from north of town. As ornery a bastard as ever drew a breath.
“Doesn’t seem hardly fair,” Dev said mildly, taking mental inventory of the contents of his car. The most lethal thing in it was a plastic soft drink bottle. “None of my friends got invited.”
Banty spit a wad of chew on the asphalt. “Shee-it. Tried to tell you once, you ain’t got no friends ’round these parts. But I know I’ve been wantin’ to tie your asshole in a knot for some time.”
“Sounds like you’ve been thinkin’ of me.” Dev veered in the direction of the road’s shoulder, looking for a stray tree limb. “Can’t say you’ve crossed my mind.”
“Your kind don’t belong in Buffalo Springs.” This from Tester. And there was nothing on his face but pure mean. “Dipshit cops can’t seem to figure out that when your family’s ’round, women die. But we got your number, Stryker.”
The four were approaching steadily. “Good to know. Save me a fortune in analyst fees.” Why the hell did the county have to pick now to clear the shoulders free of debris? There wasn’t more than a good-sized pebble to be seen.
Dev stopped scanning the area for a weapon and surveyed Whipple’s friends. “You boys here to do what Banty can’t himself or just to watch the fun?” The men sent quick looks at each other as Dev went on. “ ’Cuz Banty here, well, he’s always been a li’l fella. Probably not a fair fight ’tween the two of us, even him with that club.”
“Keep my damn name outta your mouth, Stryker!” There was fire in Whipple’s eyes, evident even in the dim light afforded by their headlights. “I don’t need no one else’s help to whip tar outta you. I’m a gonna jerk you through a knot all by myself.”
The other three faded back then, as if to watch the start. But Dev had no doubt about their plans to leave without getting involved themselves.
Banty came closer, whipping the club back and forth in front of him in short slicing motions. “I’m gonna stave in your ribs, Stryker.”
“You’re goin’ to have to get closer than that to do it.” The rest of the scene faded as his focus narrowed to Banty. On getting the sawed-off little shit close enough to inflict some damage on him.
Whipple took the bait and jumped forward, the club singing through the air. Dev dodged, waited until the weapon had finished its arc, and grabbed it. Yanked forward. When he’d pulled Banty off balance, he planted a fist in the man’s face before dancing away.
“Yowsa!” One of the onlookers shouted. “You gonna let him get ’way with that shit, Banty?”
Banty’s nose was gushing. “You’re dead, Stryker.” He rushed him, catching Dev in the chest with the short end of the club and driving the breath from his lungs. He grasped the club again, but he lacked the strength to hang on to it when Banty moved away.
“I reckon that might’ve stung a little.” Whipple’s voice was smug.
Dev still couldn’t get a deep breath. “That li’l tap? That all you got?” He straightened, fists curled. He needed to get that club away from Banty. And he had to stay on his feet. The idiot would beat him to death with it before realizing he was dead.
“Talked to your wife the other day,” he said in a conversational tone. “She told me all ’bout your trouble satisfyin’ her in bed.” He sent a silent apology to Emma Jean Whipple, who had always seemed a decent enough sort, short of her lamentable taste in men. “Seems it’s not just your legs that are short.”
There were hoots from the other men at this, but the gibe had the necessary effect. Banty came in swinging, then paused to aim a vicious kick at Dev’s privates. Dev jumped aside and delivered a roundhouse to the side of Banty’s head, knocking the man to the pavement. Then he wasted no time dropping on top of him.
They rolled, each grasping for purchase. Banty landed the first punch, a clip to the jaw that had Dev’s head snapping back. He returned a fist to the man’s face and followed it with another. There was a ringing in his ears as he pummeled the man. A gray haze over his vision. But when it occurred to him Banty had all but stopped fighting back, he hauled in a deep breath and staggered to his feet.
He shook his head to clear it, discovered the problem was blood running in his eyes. Dev swiped at his face with his shirt, searching for the club Whipple had dropped.
Then saw it a moment later in Tester’s hand. The man was standing a couple feet away, a sneer on his face.
“Figure you must be warmed up by now, Stryker.” And he took a step toward him.
“What sort of foolishness are y’all up to?” The unexpected voice split the scene like a surgeon’s scalpel.
Everyone, Dev included, turned to face the newcomer.
Rose Thornton was standing on the opposite shoulder of the road, wearing the same coat and hat he’d seen her in the last time he’d spoken to her. Carrying the shotgun that never seemed to be very far away.
“Rose.” Dev felt like laughing crazily. Would have if not for the likelihood he had a broken rib.
“You mind your manners, Devlin Stryker, and address me proper.” She moved closer but never left the shoulder of the road. “I should’ve known you were behind all this.”
“Get on outta here, old lady. This don’t concern you.”
She peered fiercely at the speaker. “That you, Arvin Tester? You no ’count poachin’ thief. Think I don’t know who it is goes huntin’ on my property once it gets dark?”
The man looked taken aback but stood his ground. For the first time, a sliver of concern for the old lady filtered through Dev. “Maybe you better head home, Miz Thornton.”
“Well, that’s ’xactly what I plan to do once all these cars get out of my way. How’s a body s’posed to get home from town with you id’jits blockin’ the road?”
The words gave Dev pause. This wasn’t the road leading to Rose’s place. But her next move caught his attention. And everyone else’s, including Banty’s, who had just staggered to his feet.
Hefting her shotgun threateningly, she said, “I have half a mind to call the law on all of ya. Get on out of here, or y’all be pickin’ lead out of your butts ’til the next blue Tuesday.” She waited a moment, and when no one moved, she sited the shotgun. “Go on now, git!”
As if in slow motion, one man after another drifted toward his vehicle. Started it up. Pulled away.
“Not so fast, Stryker.”
Without the gleam from headlights of multiple cars, Rose’s shape was shadowy. “I want to know what that woman of yours was doin’ in my woods tonight.”
“Ramsey?” He gave a moment to contemplate just how much she’d hate that description. “You must be mistaken.”
“I’ve got eyes, don’t I? Saw her myself. Her and that no-good sheriff who keeps gettin’ himself reelected.”
“That’s impossible. I can’t explain why, but there’s absolutely no way Ramsey would willingly go into the woods at night.” He recalled all too easily what had happened the last time he’d taken her there.
Rose’s voice went testy. “Didn’t say she was willin’, did I? He was doin’ the forcin’, looks like to me. I warned her she was baitin’ trouble. Looks like she found it where she least expected it.”
She walked away. Dev’s head was spinning, trying to make sense of what she’d said.
Ramsey . . . and Mark? Why would they be in trouble? It didn’t make sense. “Wait.” He started after the elderly woman, who was already vanishing into the darkness.
“Time’s runnin’ out, Stryker.” The words drifted behind her.
Turning on his heel, he sprinted for his car. He could make sense of it as he drove. He cast one last look behind him. Could no longer make out the shape of Rose in the darkness. He wondered how far down the road she’d parked.
And then he forgot the woman completely as a feeling of urgency filled him. He started up the car and headed east again, away from Rose, away from the scene of the ambush. He’d go around the other way. He couldn’t afford to be slowed if Banty and his idiot friends were waiting for him closer to town.
Without thought to speed limits, he took a left on the first gravel road and raced toward the blacktop that would lead to the woods near Rose’s house. His heart was pounding like a sprinter after a hundred-meter dash.
Ramsey. There was a boulder-sized knot in his throat threatening to choke him. She was in some kind of trouble, her and Mark. He should alert the sheriff’s office. Have some of his cousin’s deputies . . .
But wait. He flipped on his brights and pressed down on the accelerator. Mark was with her. According to Rose, Mark had forced her into those woods.
He shoved away the inference. Dev had forced her into the woods, too, not so long ago. Before he understood just what he was asking of her. Rose had misinterpreted what she’d seen, that’s all.
The mental argument ping-ponged inside him all the way to the Thornton property. He tried calling Ramsey on the way there. None of his calls went through. He scanned the roadside as he neared Rose’s place. No sign of any vehicles. Bringing his car to a stop along the side of the blacktop, he got out. Stood there indecisively.
This was impossible. How was he supposed to find Ramsey? Even in the daylight, it’d be a helluva feat.
Dev’s hand went to the cell phone in his pocket. Best thing would be to call Mark, explain Rose’s crazy talk . . . His hand hovered over the phone.
I warned her she was baitin’ trouble. Looks like she found it where she least expected it.
Slowly, he dropped the cell back in his pocket.
It was then he saw the lights.
Brilliant dancing balls of illumination, halfway between him and the edge of the woods. Dev took a step closer, his gaze never moving off them.
Orbs. He hadn’t disproved that they were anything else. Hadn’t proved these were paranormal entities, either, but damned if they didn’t seem to be beckoning him. Flickering closer for several yards, and then dancing away.
As if leading him somewhere.
Without taking his focus off them, he fumbled for the switch on his key ring to unlock his trunk. Searched one-handed inside it for the Mag-Lite before closing the lid again.
And without further thought, he plunged through the clearing. Followed the lights as they led the way to the fringe of the woods.
Chapter 24
Ramsey stilled again, straining her ears. In the darkness every sound seemed magnified. Nightmares, past and present, crashed together in her mind. Every time she heard a noise, she was convinced it was Rollins coming back for her. How long had he been gone? Twenty minutes? Thirty?
She redoubled her efforts. She’d been working at the binds since she’d regained consciousness. Her position made it impossible for her to scrape the zip cord against the tree bark, hoping to fray it. Her only hope was to work her wrists out of the cord securing them.
A twig cracked. A sob of fury escaped her. She’d be damned if she’d make this easy for Rollins. He’d have to take the binds off before setting off his little meth bomb. He couldn’t take the chance that a piece of her was found with a zip cord still dangling from it.
When he released her, she’d be ready. If she was going to die in these woods tonight, she was going do her damnedest to take him with her.
“Ramsey! Sugar, where are you?”
She stilled. What trick was this? Did Rollins have Dev now? Was he going to kill them both?
And then there was someone behind her, tearing the duct tape from her mouth. Fumbling for the binds at her wrists. “Who did this to you? Rose said she saw you come in here with Mark, but that makes no sense at all. Hold still, baby. Hold still and let me figure out how these things work.”
Ramsey rested her forehead against the tree as her knees went to water. “Dev?” His name shuddered out of her. “What are you doing here? Did you see Rollins? It’s him. He’s Ashton’s disciple.” Too late she recalled the two men were cousins. What if he didn’t believe her?
She felt the binds fall away, and turned around to find herself in his arms.
“Oh, sugar, your poor face.”
A smile hurt too much to attempt. “Yours doesn’t look much better.” There was a cut over his eye that was oozing sullenly. His bottom lip was swollen and split.
“Yeah, that’s a story. Can you walk?” His hands were running over her, as if checking for broken bones. His touch felt real. For the first time, she let herself believe they just might get out of these woods alive.
“I’m fine.” Her wrists were numb. But she could move. And she was in a hurry to get out of here. “I don’t get it. How did you ever . . .”
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