“Everything is perfect for them.” Maeve could feel the tears clogging her throat, and she wished she didn’t feel so lost. She knew she had to talk to Ben, but the words just wouldn’t come. If she spoke out loud, then that would make it real, and she didn’t think she could bear the thought of losing him.
“Come on, let’s go dance.” Ben held out a hand in invitation and Maeve pasted a smile on her face as she joined him on the dance floor. Ben held her close, resting his cheek on her head, breathing in the clean, fresh scent of her hair. Every detail of her face would be engraved in his mind for the rest of his life, he knew. He felt the warmth and energy that flowed from her like the never ending tides of the sea.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” The words just seemed to form without her permission and she regretted them as soon as she spoke. Ben would not lie to her, and now she would spend the rest of the evening trying to hold back the rears that threatened her even now.
“I was going to tell you in the morning.” How did she know? Ben knew how perceptive Maeve was, and it shouldn’t have surprised him that she would realize what was going on. Of course she would meet the issue head on and not let it grow into something that was too big to face.
“Jason must be happy to finally be going home.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly.” As a matter of fact, Jason was really pissed off, and Ben had finally agreed to put his decision off until after the wedding. It was the only way they would get through this without the threat of Jason reverting to his childish ways and acting sullen through the entire ceremony.
“I don’t know how it happened so fast, but I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone. I want you to know how much your friendship means to me, and that I’ll always be here if you need me.” That was really all Maeve could say under the circumstances. She wasn’t going to beg him to stay and besides, she respected the values that urged him to try and save his marriage.
Ben didn’t say a word, just wrapped his arms more tightly around her, kissing the top of her head as they swayed slowly around the dance floor.
*****
Maeve stood outside on her patio sipping a glass of her favorite Meritage that was bottled right here in the valley. It was the first truly quiet moment she’d had since the whole ordeal began, and now she was trying to put it all in perspective.
She would never know what drove Joseph to murder. She had seen his psychopathy developing when they were young, during the single visit he had paid to her family, but didn’t realize then what it meant, or what it would mean to her future. But it bothered her more that she didn’t know if he really believed the things he told her.
The girls seemed to have come through everything intact, but she was still insistent that they all see a counselor to help them with the fears that would inevitably linger.
She already missed Ben terribly, but she would just have to accept the fact that he was doing the right thing for himself and for Jason. They hadn’t shared any more dreams since the night Joseph Binyon was killed, and Maeve wondered if the connection she felt had just been wishful thinking on her part.
Maeve thought back again to the childhood dream that had first warned her about Joseph and the role he would play in her life. The dreams, the visions and insights, into her future had seemed so benign up until this point.
Why hadn’t she paid attention to her dreams? They had spoken to her time and again over the years. They kept talking to her, telling her what was in store, and she hadn’t listened, denying the possibility that things wouldn’t happen the way she willed them to.
Next time. Next time, she promised herself, she would pay closer attention.
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Get Ready for
Pay the Piper
Read a sneak preview of the next novel in the Pay Series by K.L. Barnes
Prologue
“Come on man! You know me man, I’m good for it.”
“You’re not good for much of anything Stuck and that's God's honest truth.”
Stuckey braced against another shove to his shoulder and kept walking through the scrubby trees. Where he was going really wasn’t important because no matter where he ended up, it wouldn’t be good.
Stuckey stumbled and went down on his hands, hard. Fine gray dirt sifted up into his nose and mouth and made it hard to breathe. In hindsight he wished he hadn’t gotten loaded before this meeting but the stuff was right there – it was always there – and what was a guy supposed to do?
He grabbed the base of a small sapling and pulled himself up to his knees. Stuckey had barely gotten upright when the battering ram caught him in the kidneys. Pain, intense and crushing, stole his ability to suck in enough air to express the agony before he found himself back on his knees, sucking wind.
When the boy could finally get a breath, he turned his eyes upward to the blurry image of his boss standing a few feet away, one of his big ugly boots propped up on the stump of a long dead tree and looking awfully casual. That’s good, Stuckey thought, fighting to see through the haze of pain. Casual is good.
Squinting through tear filled eyes, Stuckey could see that Charlie looked relaxed and not at all pissed anymore. Maybe he'd gotten it out of his system with that sudden flash of brutality.
“I always take care of the girls boss, and make sure they’re ready to have a good time don’t I?”
Stuckey heard the whiney tenor of his own voice and scooted away on his knees until he felt a tree at his back. He knew that one thing Charlie could not stand was a whiner so he struggled to find a different tone.
“Hell boss, this was just a little party to get the girls going you know. It wouldn’t be the first time they needed a little priming – a little encouragement - you know?” He was stammering a little but thought he didn’t sound too bad, considering the circumstances.
Charlie had a real bad temper and Stuckey had watched him beat a guy to within an inch of his life once. He figured he was in for it good and sized up the other man. Charlie might not look pissed anymore, but Stuckey had known him long enough to know that the best he could hope for was a serious beating and a second chance. Charlie really didn't like it when things didn't go exactly his way.
“Well that’s just it,” Charlie said in a voice that was all gravel. “It’s the girls that may need ‘encouragement’ Stuck, but you sure as hell shouldn't.”
“Your job is to take care of them, give ‘em a little product and get ‘em to the party, not get wasted and forget where you’re supposed to be!”
Good, that's good. Stuckey recognized the change in Charlie's mood. He was in lecture mode now, so maybe this was just a little coaching session to keep him in line. The thought gave him back some of his confidence. A little more of the fear ebbed away and he could finally get a full breath and gather his thoughts.
“Okay boss, okay,” Stuckey said, holding his hand palm out, as if to stave off any further aggression. “I admit it, I got a little carried away with the stuff tonight and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. You’ll see, I’ll take real good care of the girls from now on.”
Charlie lifted his foot from the peeling bark with a cracking sound and took two steps closer to Stuckey, who was still kneeling on the ground, his face covered in dirt and snot.
The man was shorter than Stuckey, around five ten and stocky. He might have been a little fat but there was muscle there too, and lots of it. There wasn't much hair on his head but what was left he wore in a long braid. What he didn’t grow on his head he grew on his face, which was mostly covered by a long half beard that didn’t do much to disguise his thick neck and bulky shoulders.
Contrary to his looks and his trade, Charlie perceived himself to be a charming man, and it looked like Stuckey was falling for that easy, reassuring way now. Likely the stupid shit thought he was going to come out of the
ir meeting with little more than some bruises and go right back to his place as right hand man. But that wasn’t how it worked in the business. When a guy screwed up this bad, there was just no going back. It didn't matter who he was.
Charlie squatted down, moved in and got close, right up next to Stuckey’s face. He reached out with a meaty fist and grabbed a handful of dirty blond hair, pulling Stuckey’s head back so hard he thought his neck might break. Stuckey twisted so he could hold himself against the tree and take some of the strain off, but he couldn’t pull away without looking weak or aggressive.
Weakness was another thing Charlie couldn’t stand, but appearing to be aggressive with the man would be an even bigger mistake.
“You were irresponsible Stuck,” Charlie said, “irresponsible and stupid the way you let those girls get messed up tonight. You didn’t protect my investment Stuckey. Didn't even think about what you were costing me in lost time did you?"
Charlie yanked hard on the handful of hair, practically pulling Stuckey up off his knees. “Get up! Get up and get yourself together,” he commanded.
Stuckey reached his arms behind his back and braced himself on the tree that had been supporting him. He pushed himself up and half stood, half leaned against the rough bark and was thankful to find that his knees had almost stopped shaking. Pushing away, he stood upright to face his employer, adopting an expression that he hoped was the right combination of strength and servitude. He had to show he had a backbone if he wanted the boss to keep him on, but he also had to show how much he regretted his mistake if he wanted to stay in Charlie’s good graces. It was a tough balancing act but Stuckey had been with the boss for a long while now and, even though he still made some mistakes - like tonight - he was learning the ropes and had the idea that maybe someday he could be running his own show.
Stuckey was thinking so hard he almost didn’t notice when Charlie moved again, so it was a shock when that heavy black boot connected with his left knee, pushing bone and cartilage into a grossly unnatural position.
Unlike the shot Stuckey had taken to his kidneys, this one left him with breath to scream and he did, long and loud, as he slid to his butt at the base of the tree. New tears and mucus made their way down his face in a nasty mess that he didn’t even bother to wipe away.
“Jesus Charlie, Jesus! You broke my fucking leg!” Stuckey screamed. But before he could say anything else that black boot caught him in the side of the head and he went flying. Lying on his face in a pile of moldy leaves, he was trying desperately to push himself to the side so he could breathe, when another kick caught him in the ribs. He would have sworn he heard his ribs break, and maybe he did, but he definitely felt it when the brilliant flash of intense pain attacked every one of his senses.
Charlie studied the frail looking form writhing on the ground in front of him, tipping his head first left and then right, taking his time, judging the best place to aim his next kick. Charlie had found over the years that a well-placed kick was really the best way to get his point across and the heavy steel toed boots he was so fond of were perfect for this kind of work. They protected his toes and inflicted a lot of damage to their target at the same time.
Charlie prided himself for his patience almost as much as his charming personality. But his patience with this scrawny, numb - nutted kid had finally been exhausted when he’d shown up tonight, stoned off his ass with the girls stumbling along behind.
A man should be able to trust his people, especially when they were responsible for his most valuable assets – his drugs and his girls.
That thought tipped the big man over the edge and he flew into a rage. It no longer mattered to him where he hurt the kid. The time for patience was past and he lashed out, kicking savagely over and over again at the figure writhing on the ground. He didn’t know how long he’d been pounding away when he realized the kid had stopped crying and begging, or even trying to claw his way along the ground like the wounded animal he was.
Charlie stepped back to catch his breath and then squatted down to look into a face that was nearly unrecognizable. Dirt and leaves were matted into the blood, snot, and tears that covered every part of Marlon Stuckey. The kid wasn’t dead because he could see one narrow eye still open and watching. It was amazing to him how much emotion could be communicated through that one very small, very battered orb. Well, Charlie thought with a grim smile, they did say the eyes are the windows to the soul.
Stuckey knew he was hurt and he knew he was hurt bad. He could barely breathe and his body forced out a feeble cough, like an old dogs bark, that wracked his body with more pain. He peered through his one good eye and watched Charlie study him like he was some sort of strange animal he’d never seen. Part of him was more scared than anyone ever had a right to be, and part of him was mad, but mostly he was sad thinking about his mom and what she would do if he lived through this – or if he didn’t.
At eighteen Marlon had been running for Charlie for almost four years. His mother would kill him if she knew what kind of mess he'd gotten himself into. Funny, it didn’t look like his mom would get the chance.
Marlon Stuckey tried, and failed, to curl up and protect himself from the brutal pounding that, for the moment, seemed to have stopped. His body just simply wouldn't respond. He realized then that he was no longer really feeling the pain, Not feeling anything at all really. It was just that his brain kept telling him the pain was there, and that the pain was leaching the life out of him.
He shrank away, if only in his mind, as Charlie reached out and once again grabbed a hank of hair, jerking his head back to study his work. Even in his befuddled state Stuckey caught the brief look of surprise on Charlie's face when his head moved back in a most unnatural way - like a half full bag of potatoes that had gone bad.
"Well now would you look at that?" Charlie said.
"Looks like it's broken alright," he continued, as if they were having a conversation that sincerely pained him. He shook his head now with a look full of false compassion and regret. "Sorry Marlon, but I don't have much use for a man with a broken neck you know. I guess I'm gonna have to let you go."
*****
Candi was truly wasted. She'd started to come down a little off that last hit of the heroin they'd been sampling - just enough to sense that something wasn't quite right with this drive up into the woods. When Charlie had pulled over and ordered Marlon to take a walk with him, he'd left the girls in the car with a serious admonishment to stay put. But that had been a while ago and Candi was getting nervous, being out here alone in the dark. The chatter from the other two wasn't helping.
"This is weird," she mumbled, and rolled her head back and forth toward Kitty and Chyna, who were sitting on either side of her in the cramped back seat. The girls didn't act like they'd heard her and kept up their irritating banter, leaning around and talking over her.
"Shut up!" Candi shouted. The other two just looked at her, surprised into silence by the bitchy tone.
"What's with you?" Chyna asked. "We're just trying to have a little fun here. I mean Jesus, we gotta sit out here in the dark and wait for Charlie and Stuck. You want us to just sit here and stare at each other?"
Candi was losing her buzz alright, but she was still experiencing that weightless feeling in her head - the one that made her feel like her movements were one step behind her brain, causing a strobe like sensation each time she turned to look at one of the others on either side of her. The stuttering motion added to the eerie feeling she had and she wasn't able to grab hold of the thoughts skittering through her mind.
Kitty laughed, low and throaty, leaning her head back against the leather headrest. Rolling her head side to side, she ran her hands down the front of her body in a slow, seductive wave that caught Chyna's attention.
"Whatcha doin' over there Miss Kitty?" The sultry voice belied the little Asian school girl image Chyna portrayed with her plaid skirt and coal black pig tails.
"Just having a little party in my own brain
," Kitty said, practically purring. "If you promise to play nice I might invite you to join me."
"Oh, I'll be nice," Chyna sing-songed, turning and throwing a leg over Candi's lap to get to Kitty. She tipped her head down to Candi as she straddled her and playfully nipped her top lip.
Candi jerked her head back and away, pushing Chyna off to her left in an effort to get her back in her seat. She wasn't surprised by the girls' sex play. After all, she'd engaged herself a time or two, but only when there was an audience of paying partiers just jonesing for a turn on.
"Jesus Candi, what the hell is your problem?" Chyna was good and pissed now, shoving her face so close Candi could see the streaks of red threaded through the whites of her eyes. Or maybe she was just imagining that since it was so dark out here she'd hardly been able to see the seat back in front of her.
"Back off Chyna," Kitty said in a low voice. "Charlie's back."
When the driver’s side door popped open Chyna was back in her seat looking properly zoned out while she studied her manicure. The car dipped and rocked from the added weight and then the door swung closed and the engine roared.
Charlie turned to look over his shoulder and smiled kindly at the three girls still parked in the back seat. His little Angels. He knew it was a cliché but it always gave him a sense of satisfaction to know that they belonged to him, and that they would do anything he asked. Anything.
"Ladies," he said with a charming nod. "Did you miss me?"
"Weeelll" Kitty drawled in that little girl voice so completely out of sync with her seductive smile. "We were just keeping each other company back here but we're happy you're back."
Candi didn't mean to say it, to say anything, because she knew that was usually the best policy when dealing with Charlie.
But before she could stop herself, before she even knew she was speaking, she blurted, "Where's Marlon?"
Charlie twisted his body now and turned his head a little farther, better to see all three of the girls behind him. His gaze was cool as he looked directly at each of the girls, one by one, in a way that said clearly he was not to be questioned.