onto the phone and move my fingers fast texting Sterling.
“Put the phone down,” Shaun orders me, pulling out his jacket slightly.
I notice the gun. Before I do what he orders, I glance at the screen and set my finger on the arrow to record voice messages, then shove my hand along with the phone inside my pocket.
“What do you want?”
“You don’t seem too afraid.” He takes a step forward. “You never were easily frightened. The little brave bitch who always fought me. Dad’s waiting for you.”
“I don’t care,” I say with conviction. “Go away or I’ll call the police.”
“Dad doesn’t get you, but I do.” He lifts his hands as if he’s about to touch me, and I take a step backward.
“Stay away from me.”
“Dad swore that you’d come easily,” he says. “But he doesn’t know you as well as I do.”
He licks his lips. “You like it rough.”
“I don’t like anything.”
“Don’t lie to me, bitch. You like it when I rough you up. You think you’re better than us because you lived with those rich fuckers. I’ll have to remind you who you are, whore.” He laughs.
His hot, rancid breath hits the back of my nose. He’s close enough that I lift my knee and hit him in his junk. I run toward the restaurant, hit send to the message, and call Wes.
“He’s here,” I say gasping for air. “Shaun. He has a gun.”
“Where are you?” His voice is urgent.
“Inside the restaurant.”
“Stay where you are,” he orders. “Please, don’t move. I’m calling the police.”
“They can’t do anything,” I insist. Why can’t he believe me that the police are either powerless or they’re their accomplices.
“Abigail,” Shaun’s voice is colder. “Have you heard of leverage?”
“I explained to my father that you wouldn’t come willingly.” He grins with satisfaction, showing me his phone. It’s a picture of Peyton tied up in a trunk. “But you’ll do anything for your friends, won’t you?”
“She’s nothing to me,” I control my emotions.
“I beg to differ. Her grandma has so many stories about the two of you hanging out together.”
I shrug. “That was years ago.”
“Then I can tell Daddy to play with her and you wouldn’t care?”
My blood freezes. “She’s not your father’s type.”
“We’re all his type,” he says, emphasizing the words.
I forget that Shaun isn’t just his father’s accomplice, he’s also his victim.
“Are you going to kill Peyton just like you killed Ava?”
His words hit me hard in the stomach. “I didn’t do anything to Ava,” I say weakly, knowing that I did. “You shot her. Not me.”
“You let her die. After you, we had to move away and find new girls because you left to live a lush life. You murdered my sister and now, you’re killing Peyton too.”
I cover my ears. He’s wrong. I didn’t do anything. He pulled the trigger; it wasn’t me.
“Come with me, Abigail,” he says, grabbing my elbow. “You’re a good girl, and you want to save Peyton.”
I do. She has a grandmother who counts on her and once she finishes her teaching degree she’s going to make a difference.
“You swear you’re going to release Peyton?”
“She’ll be free to do whatever she wants.” He crosses his heart and smiles. “I knew you’d see things my way. You always do.”
“The only reason I’m following you, Shaun, is because I hope that this can be the end.”
“It’ll be the end of you. If you beg nicely I might not make you suffer too much.” He winks at me with a look in his eyes that’s meant to scare me, but it doesn’t.
This is over. It might be my moment to surrender, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me suffer. I’ll pass from this earth with dignity.
Goodbye, Wes.
To be continued …
Copyright © 2018 by Claudia Burgoa
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, media, places, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
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