Randy’s reaction was so over-the-top, she couldn’t even make any sense of it. And now she might have a dent on the side of her car. Steve would want to know where that came from. He’d want it fixed. Another expense in a pit of expenses. Amelia opened the door and hopped out, scared of Randy, who was still muttering to himself and walking in a small circle, kicking up dust from the gravel drive, but she was more worried about what Steve would say about damage to the car. She examined the paint on the driver-side door. There was a scuff and slight dent but nothing obvious from a distance. Then her fear tripped over the thin line to anger.
“What the heck was that?” Amelia shouted, pointing at the dent. Randy rushed over and put his hands on her shoulders. She immediately regretted getting out of the car. His grip was tight and felt like a trap. When she tried to pull out of his grasp, he held on tighter.
“Ouch, stop it.” She pulled back again, but he didn’t relent.
Noticing her panic, he tried to put on the charm again, but something was off, like when she wanted to be She-Ra for Halloween in third grade, but the mask had warped and sat awkwardly on her face, making her look like something from a horror movie.
“Amelia, you deserve more than this. I know you know it. Let me help you get out of this. We can work together. I can help you, and you can help me get Dawson back. Get in the car, and we can leave right now and never look back. I know things . . . We can get the girls . . . They can be with us.”
“Us?” Amelia gasped, and wriggled against his grip. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated, body heat rolling off him and soaking into her skin like fire. “Randy, let me go. I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Yeah, you do. I see how you look at me. You want it too; you just aren’t being honest with yourself. Let go of this”—he pointed at the house and cars and lawn and her car—“and we can be free.”
“No,” she said, clear and strong as she put her hands on his chest, trying to put some space between them, fear morphing into anger. She was tired of being pushed around. “I know that your story about Dawson is a lie. Everyone in town is talking about it. His mom isn’t a drug addict; she was just too young and na?ve to fight you in court when he was born. I’m not falling for all of this. My sister is coming back out. You should leave.”
“I don’t care what anyone says. Dawson is mine, and that girl gave up her rights years ago. Now she wants to take me to court?” Randy paused and reset like he knew he was getting off track. “I’m not leaving. Not until you say you’ll work with me. Please, Amelia. Please.” His body was against hers now, and the Randy she thought she knew was gone. Her arms curled against her chest, and a scream balled up inside her throat. She swallowed it down, wrestling against his unbreakable embrace, trying to stay calm, trying to think as though she were the hunter, not the hunted.
“You need to leave,” she said simply with a cutting edge to her voice, but before he could respond, a deep yell came from the house.
“Get your hands off her!”
Both Amelia’s and Randy’s heads turned toward the voice. It was Caleb, and he was running. Randy released Amelia and charged toward Caleb, not seeming to care that his fists were clenched or that he was ready to fight.
“Leave her the hell alone!” Caleb yelled again, shoving Randy against his chest.
“What I do with her is none of your business. I don’t know who you think you are. You are just some loser who gets paid barely more than minimum wage so he can moon over his ex-girlfriend and is under the thumb of her husband. You are pathetic. Absolutely pathetic,” Randy spat back at Caleb, far more aware of his history than Randy ever let on. Amelia, now free of Randy’s arms, trembled, barely able to take one step before her knees gave out and she braced herself on the car.
“I’m pathetic? You put on a good show, but I could buy and sell you ten times over.” Though he was thin, Caleb also stood a good six inches taller than Randy and used that height to his advantage.
“Then what are you doing working for Steve-o in there, huh? A Mr. Moneybags like you shouldn’t be living in his mommy’s basement.”
She’d already figured out that Randy and Caleb had some sort of history, but the depth of knowledge Randy spewed about her lifelong friend shocked Amelia.
“I’m not the one about to go bankrupt. Does bankruptcy cover debts to your bookie, I wonder? Hm . . . probably not.” Amelia’s ears perked up. Randy was one of Steve’s clients? Steve always acted like he didn’t know who he was.
“Oh my God,” she said out loud, quietly at first and then one more time, her voice rising. “Oh my GOD!” she shouted, taking in both men with new eyes. “You didn’t want me to work for you because you thought I’d be a good partner . . . You were . . . laundering money for Steve, weren’t you?”
Randy half turned toward Amelia, glaring. “No, I thought a frumpy housewife from Broadlands would be the perfect associate for me to waste my time on. You’re a nice lady but not exactly the brightest bulb.” Randy’s tone had turned nasty, and without warning, Caleb’s fist landed squarely on Randy’s cheekbone.
“Take it back, asshole,” Caleb growled. Randy held his face in his hand, stunned and in pain as Caleb grabbed the collar of his shirt and said it again. “Take it back.”
“Caleb!” Amelia screamed. “Caleb, stop!”
Randy was limp in Caleb’s grasp, as if the punch had left him dizzy. He spit blood onto the ground, a trail dribbling down his chin, and then looked up at Caleb with a mocking smile.
“You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You’re just as trapped as I am. Maybe I should tell your precious Amelia about all of your work duties. Maybe I should tell her what you’ll be doing next Tuesday. I bet she’d love to hear about those plans.”
“Just you try,” Caleb said, pulling Randy in close and saying something Amelia couldn’t decipher under his breath. She rushed forward, partially in an effort to hear and partially from worry that Caleb was going to hit Randy again. What the hell was going on? Steve knew Randy. Steve was the puppet master. Her husband—Steve. And the man defending her, sheltering her, trying to warn her? Caleb.
“Caleb.” She tried to speak calmly, noticing over his shoulder that Ellie was on her way out of the house and rushing toward them. Amelia needed answers, but she needed them without Ellie around. “Let Randy go. He’s a total ass, but he’s an ass you don’t want to go to jail for assaulting.”
Caleb’s eyes connected with Amelia’s, and an ancient thrill went through her. For one moment, the green highlights in his eyes took her back in time, and she remembered how much she used to care about him. One blink broke the spell, and Caleb shoved the stunned man onto the ground.