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Now it was time to pay for what he’d called my sins.
He’d found me.
* * *
Terror was something I’d experienced several times in my life, but not recently. I’d felt sorrow and happiness, apprehension and guilt, but not terror. Until now. I could barely think clearly, still uncertain how I’d managed to walk calmly to the cashier, exchanging the chips for cash, which I’d insisted on. At least it hadn’t raised any red flags.
Then I’d managed to walk, not run to my car, immediately locking my doors. Since I’d been forced to park as far away as possible for fear of my beat-up Toyota being recognized, I did remember I’d looked over my shoulder several times, expecting him to jump out of the shadows.
Him.
I’d thought he was handsome then. So tall. So debonair. It had taken my mother to remind me what he’d done. I could still remember very clearly walking into a room the same time the gangster had pulled the trigger. I’d been covered in blood, unable to squeak out a single sound for at least ten seconds. Then I’d turned and run, not stopping until I’d almost gotten run over by a car. Then I’d had memory loss about how I’d ended up at the police station.
But I’d been able to describe him, picking him out of a lineup.
An arms dealer, a brutal man with no conscience. I’d heard about the man he’d killed, a wealthy man from a good family. There’d been rumors the victim also had ties to organized crime, my father even mentioning it once over the phone. That didn’t mean the man deserved to have his life taken. Did it?
There’d been no hesitation, Constantine Thorn pulling the trigger. I’d caught a glimpse of the glee in the monster’s eyes. Shuddering, I held my breath, barely able to control my anxiety.
I couldn’t bear to say his name out loud, but my mind played it over and over again like an old record on a broken player. This was the moment I needed to talk to my mom, to have her tell me that nothing bad would happen. But she was dead. I blamed him for her turning to drugs and alcohol, her addiction the reason I’d been forced to take such a significant chance tonight.
It had been her debt, but Fast Eddie didn’t give a shit.
He’d even called me, doing nothing but heavy breathing. What did he think I was going to do, offer my body as a down payment? I was sickened from the thought.
Put it out of your mind.
As if I could.
Somehow, I’d managed to drive home without crashing, constantly looking in the rearview mirror. It was entirely possible his appearance was coincidental, but I didn’t believe in them. How could I after all the years had passed? And why hadn’t I recognized him? I’d been told my mind could play tricks, blocking out the memory, but there was no way I could forget him even if he had changed after all these years. He was different than before, at least fifty pounds heavier, but I should have recognized him from the beginning.
The scared eighteen-year-old had tried hard not to look him in the eyes during the trial. He’d terrified me even though he’d been in shackles, several police officers standing in the room for protection. And now? He was free to do whatever he wanted.
Use me.
Fuck me.
Kill me.
I’d been the lone witness to a murder. He hadn’t threatened me, but there was no doubt by the look in his eyes all those years ago that he would do so in a heartbeat if given the opportunity. The sickening array of emotions coursing through me left me shaky and angry, terrified and certain he’d eventually hunt me like the predator I’d seen through his eyes. A beast clawing at the surface.
He could hide behind his expensive suits and fifty-thousand-dollar watches, but I’d seen right through him before and could do so now.
I rushed into the house, closing and locking the doors. Then I moved into the kitchen making certain the back door was still locked, even checking the kitchen window. The small home was the one thing my mother hadn’t sold off to pay for her drugs. She’d told me she’d always wanted me to have a place to come home to. I’d done so after graduating college, but that hadn’t been soon enough. She’d already been near her deathbed.
My mind was frazzled, and I was shivering from head to toe, yanking the blinds shut then backing away. What the hell was I supposed to do? Sell the house. Yes. That was it. I could now afford to sell the house and move to Orlando. My sister had been bugging me since our mother died to move closer to her. That’s what I would do.
He’ll just find you again.
I couldn’t do this, not again. I couldn’t go through it. No. Still shaking, I poured a glass of wine, taking the bottle with me as I headed for the bedroom, not bothering to turn on a light before moving into the bathroom. After placing the bottle and glass on the counter, I tossed my purse into the hamper. I’d deal with the remainder of the cash in the morning.
If there was a morning.
Why did God hate me so much? I’d done the right thing. I’d talked to the police, telling them the truth. I’d tried to be strong, even though the monster’s attorney had grilled and confused me, making me question everything I’d seen. The mistrial had sent a dagger through me, shutting me down. If my on-again, off-again father hadn’t whisked our family away to Florida, I would have likely jumped off a bridge to avoid another trial.
I took gulping breaths as I stared at my reflection. Then I slammed my fists on the counter, allowing the fear and anger to get the better of me. I needed answers as to how he’d found me but the girl staring back, her eyes as wide as saucers, had no answers. Then just as abruptly as the fear had swept away the joy of winning tonight, anger replaced it. I was furious. How dare the asshole bother me after all these years. How dare he enter my life trying to intimidate me.
And how dare the goddamn prosecutor not warn me I’d been found. Okay, so I hadn’t been placed in witness protection and it was entirely possible the Feds knew where I was. My father had taken us in the middle of the night, refusing to take no for an answer. He’d promised me that we’d be safe.
