Flee From Evil (15 page)

Cassandra tossed the magazine on the coffee table. A long silence hung between them, then …

“How old is Sophie?”

Cassandra’s eyes darted to Kat.

“She looks an awful lot like Vince.”

Cassandra’s throat constricted. “She looks an awful lot like a lot of people.” Should she leave? Could she even stand on these wobbly legs?

“He has a right to know.”

Cassandra’s body grew ridged. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know—”

“It’s not as simple as you think.” Cassandra’s breaths struggled to enter her lungs. She heard the long-ago whispers of Tim reminding her to breathe in and out when she had panic attacks with him. It calmed her.

Kat stood, smoothed her jean skirt and filled her cup again. “Vince once told me about this girl.” She poured creamer into the coffee. “He said he did something really awful to her that he’d always regret. And though he’d sinned in thousands of other ways, this was the one he couldn’t forgive himself.”

Cassandra’s curiosity peeked beyond control. “Why’s that?”

“He told me he’d betrayed her in a very personal way. I happen to think he also cared deeply for her.”

Did she want to know the workings of his evil mind? “How’d he betray her?”

“I think he said he led her on as part of a bet.”

Cassandra’s eyes burned, but she couldn’t move to leave. She felt naked, stripped and standing in front of her accusers.

“For some reason, he and his buddies saw her as a challenge because of her religious beliefs.”

Kat’s gaze probed, but Cassandra couldn’t look at her.

“When the girl found out about the bet, his world collapsed.”

His
world?

Kat sipped her coffee. “Of course that was just before it literally burned to the ground.”

Cassandra looked up. “What do you mean?”

“That same night she walked out, never to see him again, his father shot himself in the head and their house caught fire.”

Cassandra couldn’t breathe. Mr. Steegle’s slurred words echoed in her mind as if he were right in front of her. He’d barreled into the bedroom as though he had something important to say, but his expression changed when he caught the two of them in Vince’s bed.

“Ah, it seems you won the bet with Drew, huh?” He burped. “Cassandra, The Pure.” Then ogled her form covered only by a thin sheet. “Not so pure anymore. Well, I’m not paying for another abortion.” The door had slammed before his words even registered in Cassandra’s mind.

Kat continued with the nightmare. “The fire marshal believed the bullet hit a lamp on exit, causing it to catch the curtains of his study on fire.” The words sounded as though floating through a long, hollow cave. “Vince woke to a haze of smoke and barely made it out alive.”

He’d almost died that night? She couldn’t grieve him. Then why did this bother her?

“To this day, he feels it was just punishment for the life he’d led. I try to tell him it was only God calling him from that life.”

Cassandra’s lungs labored for air again. More images of that night stung her vision, tore at her flesh.

Weight on her chest, her body, her limbs. Dried grass and reeds biting into her back and legs. Whiskey-soaked breath clogging the air in front of her. No! Get off! Please don’t. Get off!

Her eyes stung, nose burned. Every muscle tensed. Fists balled. Protection. She needed protection.

There was no protection.

“Cassandra, are you all right?”

Breathe!

She wrapped her arms around her ribs and rubbed them till they burned.

Kat’s warmth registered beside her. The weight of her palm lay on Cassandra’s shoulder. “Do you need some water?”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In. Out.

In. Out.

“Can I do something for you?”

Cassandra gasped for air. Her heart beat slowed. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m fine.” She stood. “I’m sorry, that hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“What was that?” If worried eyes could pin you to a wall, Kat’s did.

Cassandra clutched the edge of a shelf and pulled in three deep breaths. “A panic attack.”

“I’m so sorry.” Kat’s expression registered concern with a tinge of anger. Who was she mad at? “I upset you.”

Cassandra swallowed. “No. No. They happen sometimes.” She picked up her purse. “I just didn’t expect it. It’s been a while. I gotta go.”

Kat stared after Cassandra as she fled the shop, dropped into the driver-side of her SUV, and sobbed into the steering wheel.

~*~

“Archibald.”

Lew turned, the burden of his supervisor’s hardened tone weighing on his shoulders. Did the man always have to use his given name?

The guy thumbed over his shoulder. “You’re up for a Breathalyzer.”

Lew’s shoulders sagged. He cursed. Once. Then twice. Then a few more mutterings as he followed his new boss to his office. The old supervisor had always given him a heads up when Lew’d be picked for the test. This guy was out to get him.

Knowing what the results would be before he even blew through the tube, he took his time down the hall. He calculated his savings. Not hard, since you can’t do much with zero. What a way to start a job search. His rent was due and his fridge empty. He had a few dollars in his wallet, but his tongue itched for the burn of a good drink more than a TV dinner.

Lew crossed the threshold and stood in front of the large metal desk. He heard the clank of the door behind him, sending shudders down his back, before his supervisor rounded and pulled the device from a drawer, then shoved it in his face. Lew knew what to do.

Could he pray for a miracle?

The guy glared at Lew’s mirthless chuckle. Why not laugh? It was better than the alternative.

~*~

Lew’s old friends—Johnny Walker and Jim Beam—clanked together in the paper bag as the boy plowed into him. Again. He couldn’t see the kid’s face, since it was buried in Lew’s T-shirt, arms wrapped tight around him, but between the blond mop of hair on top, and the woman trotting through the strip-mall parking lot calling his name, he knew it was little Tibo.

Cassandra sputtered. “I’m so sorry, Lew. I guess he’s really taken a liking to you.”

Lew mussed the boy’s hair as a burning sensation filled his eyes. The breeze must have blown some dust in there. “That’s okay. I like the kid too. We have the same love of loud motors.”

Tibo peeked up from his embrace. “Wew.” Then he backed up into his mom. “Beep, beep, beep.”

Grabbing her son, she smirked. “That’s him being a truck.”

“Figured that.” Lew grinned, returning the smile Tibo gave him. “Hey. Ya think he’d like to go to the dirt-track races with me sometime? I could introduce him to some of the drivers. He might like that.”

She chuckled. “I think he’d prefer if you introduced him to the cars.”

Lew shifted the bag in his hands. The bottles jangled together. “I could do that too.”

Cassandra’s eyes lifted toward the liquor store sign overhead, then down to the sack in Lew’s hands as if drawing in a dotted line from A to B. “Maybe we could meet you there.”

He crumpled the sack tighter. Part of him wanted to be angry that she only saw him as a drunk, but something about her gentle smile toward him, and the protective arm she held around her son, made Lew realize he’d do the same thing to protect Tibo from a drunk driver. And that bugged him more. “Of course.” His gaze dropped to the cement. “You could do that.”

“How about next week?” She reached into her large purse and pulled out a little notebook. Did she really want to hang out at a race track with Lew?

Did he want to hang out with her? “Sure. I’ll get some tickets.”

She ripped a page from the pad. “Here’s my number. Let me know what they cost, and I’ll pay you back.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Thanks, Lew. Tibo’s really going to love this. I’d never thought to take him to a race before.”

He dropped his gaze to his latest purchase. “No problem. You don’t need to pay me anything.” He shrugged. “I get ‘em free from my buddy anyhow.”

She smiled that gentle smile again. It must be where the kid got his from. “We’ll see you then.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sophie tapped her jeweled sandal on the concrete sidewalk outside Water’s Edge Community Church. Where was Sky? He said he’d be here.

For some reason the verse Amit quoted tonight as she passed him in the back hallways of the church echoed in her mind. His wide smile didn’t seem to mesh with the warning tone in his voice. “Above all else, guard yer heart, fo’ it is de wellspwing uff life.”

Sophie shivered even though the night air had no chill.

She’d watched all the other kids go into the church for youth night over the last half hour. Her stomach growled every time they passed her, opened the door, and let the smell of pizza escape. She straightened the mini skirt she hadn’t let her mother see in the changing room when they bought it last week, and pulled up the dangerous neck line of her fitted top. Grandma had given her
the look
when she drove her here, but must have assumed Mom was okay with the new outfit, and didn’t want to overstep.

Finally, Sky’s car made the loop around the parking lot, and stopped. His eyes scanned her up and down before they met hers, grin lengthening. He strode to the entrance where she waited, lightly touching her bare shoulder with his scarred hand as he neared. She loved the way he no longer hid that part of himself. Were they getting closer?

The warm fizzies sizzled through her at the intensity of his gaze. Oh! My!

“Hey.” His eyes smoldered.

“Hey.” She attempted to smolder back. “What took you so long?”

He scratched his jawline. “Wasn’t sure it was a good idea to come.”

“What do you mean? You’re my ride home.”

“I don’t think your pastor likes me.” He grimaced. “He’s probably lurking around here ready to banish or shun me or something.”

“We’re not Amish, Sky.” Sophie thought about the looks from the pastor she’d noticed and wondered the same thing. “He wouldn’t do that.” After all, it didn’t make sense given what he preached about loving and forgiving.

“I don’t know, Soph. A guy knows
the father
look when he sees it.”

“Well, he’s not my father.” She swatted him. “Now, let’s go inside.”

They entered the lounge where teens sat around a long table filled with pizza boxes and soda bottles. Coming closer, it was apparent no one else had waited for Sky. Or her. The boxes were empty save scraps of crusty cheese stuck to the bottom.

Sky swiped a hunk of it. “Hungry?”

She speared him with her eyes.

He flinched. “Sorry.”

Her stomach growled angrier with the cheese scrap so near. Sky put it in his mouth and chewed. “Mm. Good.”

“Oh, you’re bad.”

His smile made her want to hit him. And kiss him. All at the same time.

Ayo, the youth pastor stepped up. “Don’t worry, we ordered more. It should be here within the half hour.”

Sophie placed a hand on her rumbling stomach. Hopefully, she could hold out.

Pastor Ayo clapped his hands together. “All right, let’s start the activities.” Sophie loved the way Ayo’s words still held the hint of his native Nigerian. He’d told the group one week his full name was Ayorinde, which means “joy has come.” Given his easy-going manner and his wide smile, it fit. He pulled his guitar from its case. “Requests anyone?”

Teens called out song titles. Pastor Ayo played what he knew, the group singing with him, and improvised the rest. Sky gave Sophie a sideways grimace here and there. Clearly this was not his usual idea of fun. But maybe he’d warm up to it. Eventually. For her. She hoped.

Later, Pastor Ayo read the story of Esther, and the group discussed how the events in her life impacted an entire race of people. Sky remained silent, sullen, almost wooden. What was he thinking? Watching him didn’t allay her fears, until his fingers reached for hers, trailing the back of her hand, and giving her gooseflesh. His smile slid up on one side, but he didn’t turn her way.

Pastor Ayo announced a break before the next activity. Before she could head to the women’s room, Sky grasped her hand, pulled her through the door of the lounge, down the hall, and out the back entrance.

“Sky, what are you doing?” she said on a laugh.

His musky scent enveloped her as he spoke into her hair. “Just wanted a little alone time,” his hands wrapped around her middle, “so we can talk.”

She looked past his lightly whiskered chin to his soulful brown eyes. “What do you wanna talk—”

He pressed his lips to hers and pulled her closer, melding her body to his. She placed her palms on his chest to press him back, but the beat of his heart and the cord of his muscles under her fingers loosened her resolve. His scarred palm slid down her arm, making her ache for his vulnerability. He needed her. And she might just need him too.