Seducing Liselle (14 page)

“I’m sorry,”
Liselle
said, feeling bad for bringing it up. “I didn’t realize it had been that bad
for him.”

“He had nightmares for months after he got
home,” Beth said.

Julie snorted. “Oddly, I think decking
Matt helped him. He didn’t have as much trouble sleeping after that. Well, that
and he flies the chopper for the fire department when clueless tourists get
lost hiking the Appalachian
trail
in the winter.”

Liselle
thought about that. “Protecting you probably made him feel like he
had control of something again.
Something important.”
She wondered why Julie didn’t mention that John’s blow had been the thing that
killed Matt, in the end. Maybe Julie didn’t want her to know?

Julie looked at her, brown eyes
perceptive. “You know all about that, don’t you?”

Liselle
forced herself to hold the woman’s gaze. “Yeah, I guess.” She
thought of her father, and how he was still out there, probably looking for her
right now. “I wish I had that kind of control over my life.”

“Uncle John will help you,” Beth said, her
young voice sure.

Liselle
didn’t feel so confident. “He’s only one man.”

“
So’s
your
father,” Julie said.

Liselle
thought it was interesting how none of them ever referred to him as
Beth’s grandfather. “Yeah, that’s true.”

And then, like a specter from a bad dream,
she heard his voice.

Chapter Nine

“So you decided to hole up with the bitch
and her family, huh?”

Liselle
sucked in a breath, heart slamming against her ribs. She spun
around, almost falling off her chair. Her father stood not five feet away,
unshaven, his t-shirt dirty. He had on his old work boots and his jeans had
seen better days.

Jesus
Christ
, she thought, faintly. Then, before he could
speak again, she shoved away from the table, grabbing Julie and Beth by the
arm. Without a word, she dragged them up and over to the kitchen with some
faint hope of escape through the back, but before she could get them out the
door, her dad sneered and pulled a gun out of his pants.

“Stop right there, girl!” he yelled,
pointing the weapon at her. For someone who looked half-drunk, his hands were
strangely steady. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Liselle
froze. The women at the next table froze, too. Where the hell had
he
come
from? And where the hell did he get a pistol?
He’d never owned one before, at least not that she knew of. She wished she knew
more about guns. Was it loaded? Did he have the safety on? There was no way to
tell. It just looked black and menacing and totally fucking scary nestled in
her father’s rough hand.

“Who is that?” Beth hissed.

Liselle
shoved her behind her, not
answering,
trying to make sure her father couldn’t see the girl.

“What do you want, Dad?” she asked, taking
a few steps forward.

“Oh my God, it’s—” Julie began to say, but
then he shot a round into the ceiling, scaring the hell out of
Liselle
. She froze, swallowing hard. He was insane.

“Shut up!”

Liselle
cringed inside, but didn’t let her fear show. It would goad her
father into crazier heights of rage—just like it had in the past. She wished
she could turn around, make sure Beth was okay, but she couldn’t afford to draw
his attention away from her and toward the girl.

“Dad, put the gun down,” she said instead,
voice calm. In her head, she wanted to scream and cry, but she had to keep Beth
safe. She clenched her hands into fists, and then deliberately relaxed them. If
he saw her show any anger, he would lose it.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” he said,
pointing the gun her way again.

From the corner of her eye,
Liselle
could see one of the women at the other table
dialing her cell phone. Thank God.

“You want me to come with you? Okay, I’ll
come,”
Liselle
said, inching forward. She ignored the
sullen pain of her injured ankle, the sting of her thigh as the bandage pulled
across the scab. None of that was important now. She needed to get close enough
so that she could surprise him, knock the gun away. She really didn’t think
he’d shoot, but then, he’d surprised her before. There was that time he’d
broken her arm—he hadn’t even been angry at the time. She took another step. He
glared at her, eyes bloodshot and glassy. Was he high?

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he
sneered. The gun trembled a little.

Liselle
shook her head, eyes on his hands. He held the gun so tightly the
skin around his nails was turning white. She hoped his finger didn’t slip on
the trigger.

“I can’t hear you,” he growled.

“No, of course I don’t think that.” She
was almost there, thank God, and then the front door opened. Shit. Her dad was
going to lose his fucking
mind,
she could see the rage
on his face. She hoped whoever was coming in would figure out what was
happening and leave quickly.

“Dad, don’t do anything stupid,” she said,
and then wanted to kick
herself
. He hated when anyone
implied he was dumb. She flinched as the anger slid across his face like a bomb
going off in slow motion—
disaster,
disaster
, her brain supplied, complete with hysterical screaming where no
one could hear—and then her father spun around, gun waving.

“Stop right there!” he yelled, aiming for
the person standing in the doorway.

“Dad, just put the gun down,” she said
loudly. “You don’t really want to hurt anyone, do you? I already told you I’d
come with you.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but her throat went dry on
the last word. Her father snarled at her, hand swinging back around to point
the gun at her head and she flinched. His forehead was twisted up as if he
couldn’t figure out what was going on and it pissed him off.
Liselle
stopped breathing. This was it.
No going back
, she thought, looking
right into his eyes. He wanted her dead. She saw it in the way he held himself.

She felt sick, and more frightened than
she’d ever been before. She tried to swallow and glanced at the door. When she
saw John standing there all the blood rushed out of her head.
No!
she
thought, horrified. Of all the people to come in … she
had to do something to keep him safe, get him out of there.
Anything.

John had the weirdest expression on his
face, but
Liselle
didn’t have time to figure out what
he was thinking. She lunged for her father’s arm, praying he wouldn’t pull the
trigger, but of course he did. She gasped as the bullet grazed her cheekbone,
burning a line of fire along her skin, but she was already moving so it didn’t
matter. She shoved his hand up, astonished at how heavy it was. She heaved,
hard, and he growled and smacked her with his free hand. She went down, head
spinning.

“Shit,” she muttered, spitting blood on
the floor. She wiped her face, trying to get hair out of her eyes. The graze
from the bullet hurt like a bitch.
She had to get up
, she thought
woozily, certain her father would hurt someone else if she didn’t stop him. She
had to protect Beth. She had to get John away from the disaster that was her
life. She rolled over, head throbbing, just in time to see John tackle her
father. He wrenched the older man’s arm up behind his back and the gun fell to
the floor. She blinked, astonished.
Disbelieving.
Was
John actually trying to protect her? She swallowed, throat suddenly thick. No
one had ever done that before. She shoved herself up, getting to her knees, and
then her father twisted in John’s grip.

“Let me go! You have no right—” her dad
shouted.

Liselle
stumbled, grabbing an empty chair to help lever her aching body off
the ground. She had to help John before her father did something drastic. She’d
just managed to get to her feet when she saw a flash of silver in her dad’s
free hand.

“John, knife!” she yelled, knowing she was
already too late. Turning fast, her father ripped his arm free and slashed the
blade against John’s side.

“No!” she screamed, staggering as John
leaped back. The blade gleamed red as her father stooped to pick up the gun.
She stumbled forward, vowing to throw herself on him and stop him with her body
if she had to, but then John growled and pivoted, one hand on his wound, the
other grabbing the pistol from her father before he could do anything. He
expertly disengaged the magazine and it fell to the floor with a clatter.
Silently, he pointed it at her father’s head.

“There’s still one in the chamber,” he
said, voice steady.

Liselle
watched blood leak between his fingers. She felt sick.

“You don’t have the guts,” her father said
contemptuously.

John’s face tightened. Behind him, a
uniformed cop eased into the restaurant.
Liselle’s
eyes flicked back to John, trying to let him know that help had arrived.
Without warning, her dad pivoted and grabbed her arm, pulling her close and
shoving the knife he still held up under her chin. She stopped breathing,
stopped thinking. She couldn’t do anything except stare at John and will him to
just walk away. She wasn’t worth it.

“Drop the knife,” John growled. To her
astonishment, he let go of his side and brought his bloody hand up to help hold
the gun steady. He didn’t look at her, didn’t let his eyes move from her
father’s face.

Her dad pushed the knife into her skin. It
stung and
Liselle
knew she was probably bleeding. She
didn’t try to struggle—there was no point. The grip her father had on her arm
and around her shoulders was too tight. She let out a shaky breath, keeping as
still as possible. The smell of her father’s dirty clothes and unwashed hair
almost made her gag. The look of determination on John’s face made her want to
cry.

“Drop it or you’re dead.” John shifted his
stance minutely.

“Fuck you. She’s my daughter. I can do
whatever the fuck I want with her.”
Liselle’s
dad
punctuated his words by driving the knife into the soft skin under her jaw. She
flinched. She couldn’t help it. She could see the exact moment John made the
decision to shoot. She closed her eyes. A split second later, her father
slumped to the floor. She almost went down on top of him, but then John was
there, holding her tight. She couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.

“My ears are ringing,” she whispered into
his shoulder. Everything around her felt fuzzy and quiet. She couldn’t make out
what he was saying, and then the smell of blood hit her nose. “Oh my God, he
cut you,” she exclaimed, pushing John away. “Let me see.” She tried to inspect
his side, but he wouldn’t let go of her. Her ears popped and she winced, eyes
watering.

“…nothing. Just a flesh wound,” he was
saying as he stroked a hand down her arm.

She reared back, blinking her eyes. “Your
face is blurry.”

He smiled, resting his forehead on hers.
“
So’s
yours.”

“John,” she said, clutching his shoulders.
“You saved me.” She tried to wrap her brain around the idea that her father was
dead and just
couldn’t
. He’d been the monster in her
life for so
long,
she couldn’t grasp the enormity of
what had just happened.

“You saved me too,” he murmured into her
hair.

Liselle
frowned at that, but let him hold her. “I tried to stop him. Now I
don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” John ran
a hand through her hair. “Just … stay.”

And with those words, the rest of the
world came rushing in with a clamor of sirens and chaos. She closed her eyes
and let John take care of everything.

Chapter Ten

Ten hours later,
Liselle
sat in the passenger side of John’s truck as he drove them both home from the
hospital. It was dark outside and she was glad, because she felt as though her
entire world had been turned inside out. She felt exposed, as though everyone
could see the tragedy of her entire life on her face if they so much as glanced
at her. The darkness helped keep her hidden. Strangely, the graze on her cheek
from the bullet hurt worse than the wound on her neck. She glanced at John,
still amazed that he’d only needed seven stitches in his side. They were both
incredibly lucky. The cops had witnessed everything. And her dad was wanted for
murder, of all things, in another state. All they needed to do was give a
statement in a day or so, and the details would be all wrapped up. It seemed
like a very quick end for the misery that had ruled her life.