Page 99 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Fifty-Four

Oh, what a glorious day! Molly hopped over a large rock on the path through the woods that led to the waterfalls Brec had shown her that day. The day he had opened up about his mother’s death, his father’s infidelities, and how much he hated him for destroying their family.

But today! She twirled around, spinning along with the picnic basket in her hand while her messy ponytail fluttered in the breeze. Today was the official beginning of their love story because last night, Brec had prayed to forgive his father! Almost dizzy with delight, Molly all but skipped along the narrow, wooded trail, not even minding when she tripped over a root, legs flailing mid-air to keep her balance. Giggling, she righted herself quickly and literally ran to the summit of the hill as the sound of the waterfall beckoned her on.

“Thank you, God!” she shouted as she crested the top, bubbling as much as the clear water that bounced off the rocks into the frothy spring below. “Not only for this beautiful day and beautiful setting, but for this beautiful man who is finally free of his past to become all you want him to be. And”—she halted halfway to the ledge, chin lifted and eyes closed—“all you want us to be, I hope,” she whispered while a wellspring of joy blurred in her eyes.

Swiping at the wetness, she laid the picnic basket down and set everything up for a celebratory luncheon in the very same spot Brec had before. The only difference was this was no gourmet picnic because Molly was no gourmet. She was only in love with one. So sweet Miss Lilly had insisted on making his favorite boyhood dishes because she was celebrating along with Molly that their boy had finally been saved.

In every possible way.

Snapping a checked tablecloth in the air, she allowed it to float over the flat boulder before she squatted to set out containers of fried bologna sandwiches with mustard, Aunt Lilly’s whipped cream fruit salad, and Sour Cream & Onion Pringles. She proceeded to hum as she plopped a thermos of homemade peach iced tea—Cat’s mom’s recipe that Molly had stolen—in the middle of the blanket along with a small container of sliced lemons and peaches.

Kneeling, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes, hardly able to wait before she could lay a big, wet kiss on the man of her dreams. But she would have to wait, she thought as she glanced at her watch, emitting a lovesick sigh when she saw it was only eleven-thirty. She’d asked Miss Lilly to let him sleep in till eleven, then wake him up so he could shower and shave before joining her at the waterfall at noon. Thirty minutes! Another wispy sigh drifted from her lips. Which was just too long to wait.

Especially after last night. Tears of joy suddenly pricked. Because Brec had knocked on her door at midnight, asking her to pray with him that he could forgive his father, and she swore her heart melted into a puddle right on the spot. She pushed the wetness from her eyes. So she had … and then he had, praying God would take him to the place where he could finally be free.

Sniffing with a smile, she continued placing Miss Lilly’s homemade spritz chocolate and vanilla spiral cookies—Brec’s favorite from childhood—onto a Chinet plate, then began to cover them with a piece of plastic wrap she’d stored in the basket. Her heart swelled with love when she heard him coming up the hill, thrilled he was apparently as anxious as she. She shook her head, finally attuned to the mischievous little boy in him that loved to tease by sneaking up on her at home. So this time she’d give him the chance. Still perched on her heels, she felt her heart flutter at the prospect of his arrival, and closing her eyes, she imagined the feel of his lips on her neck, nuzzling up to her ear.

“I hear you, Soccer Boy,” she said in a sing-song tone, “and I’m waiting …”

Body tingling, she could sense his approach, and grinning, she awaited his kiss.

Horror struck when his hand clamped over her mouth. The rank smell of body odor and cigarettes suddenly assaulted her senses, forcing bile into her throat.

Harley???

Hellish laughter desecrated the rush of the falls as he leaned in close, the putrid smell of his breath hot against her neck while his other hand roughly patted her down. “Not carrying today, eh? Too bad. Because I told you I was going to make you pay, skank,” he hissed in her ear, “but first I’m gonna have a little fun.”

Sleet curdled her blood. Oh, God, no—please!

Terror paralyzed her when he slammed her down on her back, the crack of her head against the rock giving her double vision as he straddled her. Leering like the spawn of Satan, he muffled her with one hand while he ripped her jacket off with the other, popping several buttons before he grappled with the belt of her jeans. His grin was demonic as his voice lowered to a hiss. “And then I’m gonna kill you …”

Panic-stricken, she strained to bite his palm, almost retching at the foul taste. She hit pay dirt when his howl of pain ricocheted off the bluffs as he jerked his hand away, staring at it with blood in his eyes.

“My b-boyfriend’s on his ww-ay,” she managed to gasp before Harley cut her off with a chokehold to her throat.

His cackle was pure evil. “Well now, that is too bad, ’cause I was sure lookin’ to gettin’ in those britches of yours, skank, but looks like I don’t have time before I kill ya.”

God, help, please! Fear clawed in her brain while she clawed at his hands. And then in one violent surge of her pulse, God did help, with four simple letters that brought to mind one of the chokehold defenses Chase taught her in the service.

BAFF: Bridge, Arm, Foot, Flip.

Jerking her knees up, she thrust her hips into a bridge, throwing him off balance with a strained grunt. Heart thundering, she crossed her arms over his, then hooked his foot with her own in split-second motion, a literal blur as she flipped him over with a sharp jab of her hips. Obscenities spewed when he landed on his back with a curse, and clenching her fist, she struck his face with two lightning blows before springing up to dart toward the path.

Ooooomph! Her body went flying when he latched onto her foot, crashing her headlong onto the rock in a daze of stars. Screaming, she twisted free and scrambled from his reach. Heart in her throat, she shot to her feet faster than he did.

But not fast enough.

He wrenched a cry of shock from her lips when he jerked her back by the hair, his unholy laughter chilling her to the bone. “Little Miss Fancy Moves, eh? Well I have a few fancy moves of my own, whore, so what d’ya think of this?”

Pain seared her scalp when he dragged her backwards toward the ledge. “Harley, please,” she cried through ragged heaves, “you won’t get away with this!”

“Sure I will, darlin’, and just for the record? I ain’t Harley. I’m his former best pal, Buck. Ol’ Harley’s dead, you see. I know ’cause I killed him myself, so ain’t nobody gonna figure it out. The scumbag was trying to cut me out of ol’ Uncle Pete’s savings after we had a deal, and everybody knows you don’t cross a prison buddy, eh?”

Molly’s eyes bugged wide when she realized he was dragging her to the jagged edge of the cliff that Brec had warned her about, where a boy almost fell to his death. “Please, no!” she screamed as she kicked and dug in her heels, but Buck only laughed while he hauled her closer and closer to the edge, twisting her ankle in the process.

“You know,” he continued in an eerily friendly tone, as if he planned to join her on the ledge for a picnic rather than hurl her off, “it’s mighty lucky I came by ol’ Uncle Pete’s today or else I would’ve missed out on all this fun. Decided to take a little ride to see if I could find you, and what d’ya know? Imagine my surprise when I spotted you traipsin’ out in the woods all by your lonesome, on the very path that led to the cliff ol’ Harley showed me a while back. Told me an awful story, he did, about a poor boy who stepped on the wrong side of the cliff and the shale gave way, almost crashin’ him to his death.” He jerked her hard, causing her to stumble back. “Just like you’re gonna do, skank, when I push you over that edge. And you know what?” His diabolical laughter curdled her stomach. “After I break off a piece of that shale? Ain’t nobody alive will be the wiser …”

Hands. Core. Step. Twist.

Chase’s instruction came back in a whoosh, and ignoring the throb of her ankle, she locked her hands on top of her head over Buck’s grip, steeling her core like Chase had taught her. Wincing, she stepped back and under his arm before thrusting it up for all she was worth, trying her best to break it.

His shriek rent the air like a wounded banshee as he dropped his hold. Panting hard, Molly took full advantage, limping as fast as she could to the picnic basket to retrieve her Glock. Tears of gratitude burned in her eyes. The same Glock Brec now forced her to take wherever she went despite her argument that there was no need. Fingers quivering, she lunged into the basket, relief flooding at the touch of cool steel.

A horrendous scream pierced the air, and Molly realized it was hers when a boot bludgeoned her back, splintering pain through her limbs while the gun dropped from her hand. Fire scorched her scalp when he yanked another hank of hair to drag her back to the ledge, her battered body scraping against the boulder like sandpaper. Dropping her head on the ground, he kicked her closer to the edge, his grin pure evil.

“Whoo-hoo, darlin’ … you might say I’m gonna get a real kick out of this,” he said with a vile laugh, her eyes expanding in terror as he reared his leg back, “so get ready to fly.”

His angels will lift you up so you will not strike your foot against a stone ...

“God, help me please!” she screamed one last time.

Right before the devil unleashed his final kick.