Flee From Evil (9 page)

“Sure.” It didn’t matter the cost, he’d drain her wallet anyhow. Not sure which way to choose. What was her greatest vulnerability? Scanning the bedroom, he stopped at the pictures next to her bed. Her little family. How cute. His lip curled. Hmmmm. Ideas were beginning to form, but maybe those were too complicated. He’d look around for a simple hit-n-run method first, but if that wasn’t possible, he knew what his hail-mary pass would be.

“So when can you begin?”

“I’ll have the supplies here on Wednesday morning. I can start soon after that.”

~*~

Waterlogged. That’s how Sophie felt watching Tibo bounce and splash in the shallow end of the pool. The chlorinated soup swirled around her with the movement of the crowd dancing within it, swaying Sophie like a strawberry-banana smoothie whipping in a blender. She could feel the heat of the sun, baking her nose and shoulders as she tried to maintain her footing.

Where was Sky? He said he was off work today, and planned to be here. Could she really count on the promise of a guy she barely knew?

Sophie scanned the patches of grass surrounding the concrete walkway. Old ladies stuffed into bathing suits that should be illegal in their lack of fabric, kids chasing after friends with water guns. Mothers screaming across the water to one child dunking another. All this interrupted by short, shrill whistles from the lifeguard warning a swimmer on the brink.

“What ya lookin’ for, Soph?” Sky’s voice had a rumble that rained warmth down her back. She turned, only to get lost in those golden brown eyes that almost matched his tan. His blond hair seemed kissed by the sun.

“Hi Sky.” Sophie resisted the urge to note the poetry of that phrase.

He sat at the edge of the pool then lowered himself into the water next to her, biceps bulging as he did. Did it suddenly get colder? She shivered.

His eyes seemed to travel the length of her, caressing her in a way she kind of liked. “You’re not even wet, yet.”

She pointed to her brother, twirling in the water. “I’m watching Tibo.”

His smile made her bones noodley. “You can do that wet.” A wave of water erupted as he pushed it with his large hands.

Bracing herself against the cold, she screamed.

He laughed.

“Okay, you’re asking for it.” She scooped a handful of water and let him have it.

He wrapped his strong arm around her waist and plunged her beneath the waves.

“Aaaaa—blub-blub-blub,” was all Sophie could say until she straightened out of the deep, tugged at the front of her bathing suit to make sure all parts were covered, and sucked in a big breath.

“You look good wet.” His full lips nudged up on one side. “I like the new bathing suit.”

Smoothing strands of hair from her face, she made a check for Tibo.

Sky nodded to the side. “He’s right there. Still circling.”

The thought of all those circles made Sophie dizzy. Oh wait, it was Sky who did that to her.

Sky swooshed through the water toward her brother. “Hey, little man.” Tibo’s grin was uncontainable as Sky lifted him and twirled him around, making giant, circular waves.

Sophie’s breath caught as she feared Sky would throw him into the deep. But he didn’t. He seemed to sense that Tibo didn’t possess the same survival instinct as normal kids, and would more likely sink than swim. Instead, Sky pulled him up and down, plunging him, but keeping his face above the surface all the time.

Sophie knew she beamed watching this guy, corded muscles rippling his back, as he played with her autistic brother. But she couldn’t help it. Likely, her expression resembled Happy—or Dopey—in the Disney version of Snow White as her heart swelled, and her gaze trailed his every move.

Could there be a more perfect man?

Sky turned and caught her staring. His smile lengthened as he gave Tibo one last splash and muss of the hair. “Gotta play with your sister now, big guy.” He held up his hand for a high-five, and Tibo obliged before bouncing a few times then went back to twirling.

“So.” Water glistened from his thick eyelashes. “You gonna take me up on the driving lessons or not?”

Did she hear right? “I thought you were kidding when you offered the other day.”

“No.” He lifted a shoulder. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Or you have a death wish.”

“That too. But let’s start with fun. Do you think your mom’ll be cool with it?”

“As long as we stay in the school parking lot, she’ll be fine.” The image of her mother rushing out to meet one of Tibo’s therapists, then another of her leaning over all that special needs information stacked on the table, passed through mind. “She’ll probably be relieved she doesn’t have to do it herself.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up on Sunday morning.”

Sophie pressed her lips together, wondering if this was the right time to suggest it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go to church on Sunday.” Why did she make it sound like a chore?

“Won’t your mom let you take one Sunday off,” he lifted a shoulder, “ … to do something for yourself?”

“Actually,” She felt a little timid now. “I like going to church. I don’t wanna miss.”

His brows drew together, and his mouth pursed into a funny smile. “Are you serious?”

Sophie nodded. She’d have loved to explain the church activities she and her dad had been involved in. Doing God’s work in the homeless shelters. Playing baseball with kids in the slums after helping them clean up trash from the street. Her mom had been there too, but these were the moments she cherished most with her father.

Gone forever.

“We can go after. Just tell me when to pick you up.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” There. The words were out.

The funny smile and brow crunching were back. She waited as he took his time considering the idea. What conversation played in his head? “Should I go? Shouldn’t I go? Should I go? Shouldn’t I go?” Which one would win? She almost tapped her toe under the water.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Was he serious?

Sky chuckled. “Yes. Okay. Just tell me what time, and I’ll be there.”

Chapter Eight

“Hurry up and finish, dear.”

Sophie eyed Grandma, then the eight legged, crustacean—as her former Earth Science teacher called it—staring lifelessly from the table. How does someone hurry eating crabs? She wasn’t sure she understood Marylanders who worked so hard for tiny bits of meat. Steak and potatoes. That’s what they ate back home in PA. She missed that. Here, there was no A-1 sauce in sight.

Grandma grabbed the crab carcass. “Let me show you again.” She pulled the legs out, snapped, hammered, pried, and gathered the sparse protein into a little pile. “There.”

This was the seventh shelled creature Grandma picked out for her, and Sophie’s stomach still growled. If it wasn’t for the salty seasoning she’d have surrendered long ago, and filled up on hush puppies. Now
those
made sense. “Why are we hurrying anyway? Do you have a big date or something?”

“Oh, pooh,” Grandma slapped her hand.

Mom fished more corn chips to Tibo from the gluten-free stash she always carried in her purse, in case restaurants didn’t provide an alternative. “Yeah. Why are we rushing?”

Grandma’s gaze seemed to follow a boat motoring up to the pier alongside The Dock Bar and Grill. “Well, the clientele gets a little rough after dinner hours.”

“What do you mean rough?” Mom speared Grandma with that glare that brought shivers to Sophie’s spine.

Grandma cleared her throat. “Seedy. Drunken. Not-quite-law-abiding.” She nodded toward the guys tying up the boat, and Sophie suddenly wondered what was in those back packs they carried.

“Criminals?” Mom’s eyes went wide.

“Shh.” Grandma waved her hand. “Not so loud.”

“Mom, you brought us to a haven for the underworld?” she whispered with force. “Why would you do that?”

Grandma wiped her mouth with the paper crab-eating bib, folded it, and placed it on the table. “They have the best crabs in town.”

The front door opened and Pastor Vince entered. Mom’s jaw hardened. “More riff-raff. What’s your pastor doing here?”

What did Mom have against the guy? He was always nice to Sophie.

“Pastor Vince comes often. He became friends with a lot of folk here when he dealt drugs.” The words sounded funny coming from Grandma’s mouth. Like it was an okay part of his life.

Sophie still couldn’t believe the man had been a dealer. He looked so tidy, upper-crusty too.

Grandma nodded to the pastor. “See the guy he’s talking to at the table? He shared a jail cell with Vince.”

The pastor passed to the bar.

“And that guy owns a pawn shop around the corner. Most people think it’s a fence for stolen goods.”

Mom’s mouth hung. “This is your pastor?”

A lot different from Pastor Johnson back in Philly. But Sophie kind of liked the guy. She thought about what her father would’ve said. “Isn’t that what Jesus would do, Mom? Hang out with tax collectors and sinners.”

Mom threw her bib on the plate. “You mean the IRS is here too? Sheesh! What a dump.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Mom’s smile felt like love as she patted Sophie’s hand. “Yes, I do. And you’re right about Jesus. It’s just that pastor I question.”

~*~

Vince felt her presence even before he saw her. She’d always had that power over him—one he thought he could control when he made that bet with Drew—his once best friend—so many years ago. He’d conquer Cassandra, The Pure. He’d reasoned it would be like fighting fire with fire, taking control of his growing feelings—the ones that made men weak—according to his father, at least.

She was like a magnet, drawing his gaze, but he fought it while he grasped the hand of his former cell mate, Chen, who’d done time for burglarizing homes. Vince felt her stare, and knew the hurried speech of her mother filled in his connection to the guy. He almost shook his head with the realization it was another black mark against him. He looked to the ceiling reminding himself he’d been washed of those.

Really? What did it matter anyway? She’d hate him forever for what he did. Why should he care that she’d found out about his jail time?

He slapped a handshake with Eddie at the bar.

“S’up, man.” Eddie glanced at the family preparing to leave before his eyebrow twitched.

Cass stood and blew a curl from her face. Something about the gesture pulled at a memory of her serving his table at the country club. He’d smiled at her as she cleared the table, and she’d done a double-take. He’d chuckled at the incredulous expression on her face as she turned away and hoofed it to the kitchen.

His father had almost stopped the conversation with his business partner to congratulate him on his ability to fluster the female help. Dear ole Dad saw that as Vince’s greatest asset—charming the ladies to get them to do whatever he wanted. That’s the other reason the bet with Drew had appealed to him. It seemed a slam-dunk. Easy money.

Cass brushed at her skirt, straightened, and took her son into the Ladies’ Room.

“Hey Vince.” Eddie cocked a brow. “Chick’s hot, but she’s gone now.” He snapped his fingers. “I was talking to you.”

Vince smiled. “Just cause I’m a pastor now, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

“She was fine. That’s for sure.” He waved over Vince’s head. “Hey, Lew, over here.”

Vince turned to see Archibald Lewis, Billy’s father. Thoughts of all the petitions Billy and Kat said on that man’s behalf at prayer meetings filled his mind as the man stared daggers into Vince’s skull.

“Not sittin’ with the preacher.” He smoothed back his thinning black hair. “Lilly-whites always give me the creeps.”

Eddie patted the stool on the other side. “You won’t be sittin’ with the preacher. You’ll be sittin’ with me,” he jabbed a thumb to the side, “and Vince.”

Vince raised his palms in surrender. “I promise I won’t ply you with Bible verses.”

The man rolled his eyes so hard his head moved the circle with them. He thumped his thick fingers on the bar. “Scotch.” The bartender complied. Lew looked down his nose. “What you drinkin’ preacher?”

Vince held up the glass and patted his middle. “Diet Coke. Gotta watch the waistline.”

“Hmph.”

“C’mon Lew, the guy’s cool.” Eddie gave Vince a once-over. “Even if his hands are too soft.”

“Hey, I’ve got callouses now. Look.” Vince flipped his hands to display his most prized possessions.

“Whoa. Where’d you get those?”

Vince smiled with pride. “Church projects. Repairing houses.”

“Widows and orphans, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Lew downed his shot. “Yeah, you guys always look so good.” He leered. “Saving cats from trees, and helping old ladies cross streets in public.” His cheek twitched. “Probl’y beat yer kids in the basement.”