LUCY
December 2013
Lucy felt ripped apart. She sat on the couch, sobs wracking her body as Shorty paced in front of her.
“So tell me what happened again?”
“I’ve already told you,” she wailed. “It was him. The guy from the Sorrento’s gig.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes! Shorty I know that face. It was burned into my brain a long time ago.” Her breath hitched. “And now he has Marlin. He’s gonna hurt him, Shorty.” She covered her face with her hands, unable to control the rage, the panic, the debilitating fear.
“Alright, alright. Calm down. We ain’t gonna let Marlin get hurt. He’s a tough kid. If he can survive his dad, he can survive anything.”
Lucy tried to slow her breathing, bring it back to a normal pace, but it was impossible. Her chest heaved, making her hiccup and shiver.
“You know, Cy, you’re scared bloody shitless of this man. Are sure you don’t just want to cut and run?”
“WHAT!” Lucy felt like her eyes might pop from her face. “No!” She stood tall, wanting to pummel Shorty for even saying it. “Marlin saved my life. I’m not leaving him.”
Shorty tssked, then pursed his fat lips. “If this guy is as powerful and evil as you think he is, we might already be too late.”
When it came to comforting, Shorty sucked. Lucy let out a mix of a wail and a scream, her legs buckling as she fell to the floor. “You just said we could get him out!”
“I’m thinking off the top of my head here, love. I’m just trying to weigh up all the options.”
“There are no options.” Her voice went steely. “We are getting Marlin out. That son of a bitch is not taking him too!” It was the first time she’d felt rage. As a thirteen-year-old kid, seeing her parents killed had filled her with such terror she’d run. She’d fled and that’s all she could think to do. Every time he tried to invade her thoughts, she’d blocked him out. Resentment and anger had tried to wiggle their way inside a few times, but it had never been strong enough for her to want to face him, to take him down.
But now.
Now that he had Marlin, she was pissed.
“We don’t know for sure that the police have him. We don’t even know if the guy is still in law enforcement.” Shorty threw up his hands. “Marlin might be safely tucked away in a jail cell just waiting for a rescue.”
“He’s not.” Lucy’s voice sounded dead, just the way she felt. “I know he’s not Shorty. I just know.” She pushed her fist into her stomach. “You were listening in when I told Marlin everything. You know what happened, but you didn’t see what he did to my parents, the way he stood over their dead bodies with no emotion.” Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes, pushing to break free. “He has no heart and he will not hesitate to damage Marlin.”
“Why? To get to you? He doesn’t even know who you are.”
A tear broke free as she shook her head. “There was something in his gaze today. He recognized me.”
“Probably from the hotel gig you screwed up.”
“It felt like more, Shorty.” She swiped at her tears, fear creeping around her anger, choking it away like it always did. “If he gets me, he’s gonna kill me and he’s gonna do it slow. He wants to make me suffer. That—that look in his eyes. He enjoyed it. He liked inflicting pain on my parents and he’s gonna love doing it to me. I just know he is. I just know it.” She lurched forward, gagging and coughing, bile surging up her throat and splattering over the carpet.
“Aw, gross, Cyan!”
Ignoring Shorty’s curses, she let her stomach empty, not even caring about the vile smell. She couldn’t have stopped the puke if she’d tried. Her innards were quaking so much she was surprised they didn’t rise up her throat as well.
Finally spent, she sat back from her sick and leaned her head against the couch. She didn’t know what her eyes were saying when she looked over at Shorty, but his face softened with sympathy. Taking a wide berth, he skirted the mess on the floor and perched on the edge of the couch, gently resting his hand against her forehead.
“I’m not going to let that wanker touch you. You can’t let him win this way, Cy.”
“I don’t know how to beat him.” Her voice shook.
“You figure out what you want in this life and you take it. That’s how you win.” Shorty’s voice was strong and hard, his dark eyes gleaming. She’d never seen him like this before.
“How do you figure out what you want? It’s not like I’ve had much choice.”
“You rise above those circumstances, love.” He gave her a closed mouth grin. “I was a down and out pauper. My dad left me and Mum with nothin’. She died when I was sixteen, having lived a miserable, bitter life. I quit school and I tracked my dad down.”