Layers Peeled (26 page)

A low knock on
the front door echoed. Weird chills ran up my arms, but I blamed it
on the open kitchen window.

I shouldn’t
have.

I should have
listened to my instinct, the way I’d been taught.

I set the bowl
aside and wiped my hands on the apron, wondering whether Emma had
run over to visit with a new list of names all the way from her
parents’ house once again. Instead of texting, she’d made the
excuse before just to spend time with me. I loved that girl.

Wobbling like
a duck toward the front door, I held onto my belly.

As soon as I
opened the door and looked down a loaded barrel, I froze, and then
took three steps back, pushed that way when the pistol rested
against my chest.

“Hello, Allie.
It’s been some time.”

My mind spun.
In a split second I panicked that I’d just seen a ghost. And the
moment I realized he was alive, I wondered why the security cameras
hadn’t caught him and remembered the security system was being
updated. Still, the gates were locked and everyone had a secret
pass code to get though; but more importantly, why was he here, and
why Tristan wasn’t aware of it? My mouth opened in disbelief, and
the entire world and the beautiful life I’d had all collapsed.
Everything came crushing down as if Atlas himself simply dropped
the world off his back.

The one person
who had hunted me most of my life, whom I’d despised and wanted to
kill, and whom I thought was dead, stood less than two feet away.
I’d run from him for years. I’d hid my mother from the monster who
destroyed our sense of security for over a decade. He wasn’t
supposed to be here. David Wright should have been in an urn,
nothing more than dust. We’d been told, and had it confirmed, that
he was cremated.

My instinct
urged me to run, to hide and tuck myself away under a dark
staircase – except we didn’t have a hiding spot like that in this
home. Would it make a difference? As silly as that sounded, I
believed it would because the little nook in our old home was the
only safe place I remembered. Memories of that dreadful day
returned: my mother’s cries and pleas for the life of her unborn
child, the blood, the hospital, the funeral, the constant running.
I forced my brain to remind me where I was, that I was no longer a
child. But everything inside me shut down. My hands shook, my pulse
raced, and sweat dripped down my back. All my adrenaline must have
drained from my veins. And sensing my fear, my babies stopped
moving in my belly, most likely trying to stay as quiet and
invisible as I had that day under the staircase.

“What are you
doing here?” I heard my voice shake. I didn’t mean for it to shake.
I wanted to be strong, yet I backed away until I hit a wall.

But that gun
seemed to control everything at the moment, not me.

“I came to
claim what’s mine.” He took a step closer. His stinky cigarette
breath burned my lungs. The gun in his right hand now jutting
against my forehead confirmed his intention.

“I thought you
were dead?” I felt my eyes narrow trying to gather the pieces of a
puzzle together, but my fear overwhelmed me.

“It’s not as
difficult to disappear as you think. A little bit of money,
courtesy of new job, and you can find a double for anyone.
Sometimes a few surgeries help. The stupid starving actor was so
keen to mimic my life the way I’d taught him, and followed my
instructions to stay in California. It got your little PI husband
off my back.”

Oh, my God! We
killed an innocent man because of him.

“You had a
double too—Marissa, don’t you remember? She was so good, but she
wasn’t you. And when she told me where you lived, well, that just
made the years I’d spent looking for you worth it. At first I
thought she was you, but then she proved me wrong. She showed me
where you worked.”

A drop of
courage spread through me as his words reminded me of who I was.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I barked.

But that made
him only press the gun harder. I was sure I’d have a red oval on my
forehead, and I hoped it wouldn’t be a splattered one caused by
Wright firing the weapon.

“Looks like
you set yourself up quite nicely.” He looked around the house, his
hand steadier than a surgeon’s.

“Tristan will
be back in a minute,” I whispered. The shock of seeking Wright
began to wear off, and I felt my instinct scramble to piece
together a plan.

“He just left
not long ago.”

“There’s a
security camera here, and the police will be here any moment,” I
lied. I knew with the babies on the way, Tristan was installing an
updated system. And during the two days it would take for it to be
active, Wright had found me.

He didn’t seem
to care for my empty threat; instead, he motioned me toward the
kitchen.

“You look just
like your mother when she was younger, and with a belly too. I have
some fond memories of that day.” His grunt released a stench of
dirty teeth and an empty stomach.

My hands flew
to my belly, their span and my spread-out fingers not even close to
being big enough or thick enough to protect my children from a
possible bullet.

Shit, shit,
shit!
I cursed in my mind.

This wasn’t
happening! Dave Wright would not hurt me the way he had my mother.
I wouldn’t let him rape me and kill my children.

Think,
Allie. Think!
I urged my mind.

“You’re a sick
motherfucker! I swear if you take another step closer, I will kill
you and bury you myself,” I threatened.

Wright drew
the gun slowly down my nose, then the side of my neck. I felt my
jugular pulse against the metal tip. He lowered it to my chest and
then my belly. The low click of the gun held me in my spot and I
slid my hands forward, wrapping them tighter around my stomach,
fearing for my babies’ lives. I couldn’t let him do this again.

“Take three
steps to your left and turn around,” he ordered.

“Fuck
you!”

He whacked me
across my face with his free hand. The sting of the slap only
confirmed the bastard he was.

The sweet
smell of waffles began to rise as my backside hit the doorway’s
edge.

“You think I’m
kidding?” He dug the gun deeper into my belly.

Oh, my God!
He’s going to shoot me, then rape me!
I couldn’t let this
happen. I swore never to be afraid again. I promised not to give
in, and to fight. And now I had to fight not only for me but also
for my husband and unborn children. In seconds the instinct I’d
nurtured my entire life returned. That adrenaline that had been
drained before now flooded my veins at the speed of a rushing
tsunami. I would settle this today, and David Wright would not walk
out of this house alive.

“Fine, fine.”
I put up my hands, palms facing forward, and moved to where he
wanted me, against the counter.

“What are you
going to do after you’re done?” I stalled.

“Marry you,
Peg, the way we were meant to be. I won’t let you leave this
time.”

Did he just
call me by my mother’s name? Something had shifted in the air.
Wright used a softer tone, one I’d remembered him use with my
mother before he killed my father.

“I’ve been
looking for you everywhere, Peg and when your daughter said she
knew where you lived, well, that was just a bonus.”

I am my
mother’s daughter, you dweeb!
Was he confusing me with
Marissa?

“I almost
settled for your little girl. I must say she was quite tight and
giving.”

Gross!
In this dire situation my heart still ached for Marissa, wondering
at the pain she must have gone through.

“But there’s
no one who can ever compare to you, Peg. We’ll have the family we
always wanted.” His hand slid to my belly as if I were carrying his
child. It made me sick to my stomach, and I turned my head away in
disgust as his stinky mouth came closer to my ear. His three-day
stubble raked against my cheek. “All you have to do is stay
still.”

He lowered the
zipper on his fly and I shut my eyes.

I wished
Tristan had really killed him. The only way to get rid of Wright
permanently was to pull the trigger ourselves. Why hadn’t I done it
that day on the mountain? Why had I cowered? And now, because of
me, my children were in danger. Pigs would fly up in rainbow
patterns before I’d let my family suffer at the hands of this man
again.

At this point,
I knew arguing with the son of a bitch wouldn’t help. Nothing
would. He’d do as he pleased. That is, unless I stopped him.

“What do you
want?” I lowered my voice to a more submissive tone. He seemed to
respond to that.

“You. What
else?”

“And you’ll
leave my mother alone?” I coaxed.

“Peg, your
mother died years ago. But I will let your daughter be if you fuck
me well.”

Wright really
did think I was my mother.
Fuck you!
I thought, but to him I
said, “I’m carrying a child. You need to be careful.”

“There’s no
need to bleed like the last time if you just listen. No fighting.
Now turn around and lift your fucking skirt.”

I did as he
asked, but my mind roamed at a thousand miles per hour. The stench
of his cigarette breath along with something burning filled me as
Wright positioned himself behind me. The sound of him fumbling with
his fly cursed through me as chills of disgust.

This isn’t
happening, this isn’t happening!
I repeated in my mind. Taking
a deep breath in, I tried to calm my nerves and control the
situation. But the gun at my ribcage held all the power. One wrong
move and the bullet would fly through me – through us. I exhaled,
bracing my hands against the counter, giving enough space for my
belly and then some, just in case he pushed too hard, like he had
against my mother.

What are
you thinking?
The devil on my shoulder stepped up.
Fight!

And my
conscience joined him.
You need to fight, Allie. He’ll kill you
after he’s done!

For the first
time in my life, they both agreed. Were they right? Was that what I
was supposed to do?

The smell of
burnt batter intensified and I remembered the waffles. “We’re going
to set the kitchen on fire, Dave. Let me take them off the skillet.
Please. You wouldn’t want to hurt your child, would you?” I said to
him the way my mother would have, pretending to go back in time.
With his pants at his knees he stepped to the side. The gun was
finally pointed downward at the side of his leg.

I paced with
caution to the waffle maker, twisted the grids steaming with black
smoke and turned off the machine. The kitchen knives on the counter
called out to me. I’d have to throw one and not miss. The only
problem was sliding the blade out of the compartment without making
a noise. As I looked back at Wright, a tiny red dot appeared in the
middle of his forehead. Then everything happened all at once. The
window shattered and I fell down on the marble floor. The red dot
on Wright’s head exploded and Tristan broke through the back door.
Taking me into his arms he whispered, “Don’t look, baby, don’t
look.”

A cramping
ache flew to my stomach. From the side I saw blood splattered all
over our kitchen.

Tristan cupped
my face in his hands, “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did
he?”

“No.” I shook
my head feeling a swell of tears and emotions begin to build up
from inside me. I knew I was about to break down, but the new ache
streaming around my navel drew my attention to my belly
instead.

Julian knelt
at my side with a sniper rifle braced against his shoulder, “You
all right? The ambulance is on its way, and so are the police.”

But I couldn’t
reply. Another pain shot through me, centering at my pelvis, and I
felt wet underneath.

“Tristan, I
think my water just broke.”

Riding inside
the ambulance, the sirens still sounded far in the distance,
muffled by my cries of pain and Tristan’s instructions to
breathe.

“I am
breathing.” I shot him a deadly look. “It’s too early.”

“It’s normal
for twins to be born a little bit early,” the paramedic said.
“Concentrate on one small thing, Mrs. Cross. We’ll be in the
hospital in two minutes.”

“My waffles
are ruined.” I looked up to Tristan, gritting through my teeth.

“Concentrate
on something positive.” He smoothed my hair back.

But I paid no
attention to him. “They were supposed to be a surprise, and they’re
ruined.”

“Their
delicious smell saved your life, Allie.”

I knew he was
lying because the waffles burned, but I appreciated the
comfort.

“I need to go
home and clean.” I rose off the gurney.

“You need to
relax and stay still, Mrs. Cross.” The paramedic gently pressed on
my shoulder.

Another
contraction shot through me.

Holy crap,
mother of a...

Even swearing
in my mind took too much effort. The pain was unbelievable. I
gritted my teeth. This part of the birthing God definitely didn’t
think through. Why the agony? If we’re supposed to procreate, why
not make it easier? He definitely made the sex part easy. And
getting pregnant while on the Pill too!

“I need
drugs,” I begged. “Lots of drugs.”

“We’ll be able
to give you an epidural at the hospital.”

“Allie, you’re
strong. Break through the pain.”

“There’s one
thing I want to break right now, Tristan, and I beg you move away
because I cannot control this.” I gripped the sheet at the sides
and practiced my labored breathing, fighting the next
contraction.

“Think about
the babies and us in our beautiful house.”

Except the
image I had in my mind was one of our white kitchen stained in
bloody polka dots of Wright’s messed up brain remains.