Desperate Measures
Author
Christy Barritt
Reads
19.9K
Chapters
19
HarlequinOne
Samantha Rogers looked over her shoulder, trying to maintain her composure in the inky black parking lot. Her heels clicked against the pavement and the overstuffed paper sack in her arm teetered.
Why werenāt the overhead lights working out here? Sure, the grocery store was in the middle of nowhere, in Yorktown, Virginia, a town where crime was practically nonexistent. But the soft glow of āHalās Marketā on the sign above her did little to comfort her or guide her steps.
A footfall sounded behind her.
She craned her neck but didnāt see anyone. The sound spooked her enough that she quickened her pace. Her shoe caught in a crack, and she nearly toppled onto the asphalt.
She righted herself, but not before an apple escaped from the top of her bag and rolled under a nearby car.
No way was she stopping to retrieve it. Not with the way imaginary spiders scattered across her skin and her throat ached as she tried to hold her fears at bay. Tension pounded at her ears as she strained to hear another telltale sign that someone was following her.
Her paranoia reared its head at the worst times. But Samantha could have been certain that the man in the grocery store had been watching her. His bulging muscles, heavy jowls, and rocklike hands only made him appear to be dangerous. Thatās what she tried to tell herself, at least.
For that matter, the man was probably shopping for the same household staples she was. Sheād stopped by on her way home from a late night at work to grab the usualāmilk, eggs, bread and some fresh produce. A lot of people stopped to get those things. Thatās most likely why the manās movements inside the store had paralleled hers.
He was just someone on his way home. His wife could have called him and reminded him they were out of milk. That was it.
She may have mentally convinced herself that her theory was true, but her body still remained on alert.
Samanthaās SUV came into view. It was only four parking spaces away. The heavy downpour earlier had flooded the front of the lot, so sheād had to park in the back. Now she wished sheād battled the ankle-high water closer to the store instead.
With her free hand, she fumbled inside her purse until she found her keys. She grasped them like a lifeline.
Almost there.
Almost safe.
Sheād pick up Connor from his karate class, go home and lock her doors.
Then sheād laugh at herself for being so silly. Sheād make jokes about her paranoia. Sheād tell herself she had an overactive imagination.
Though she tried to brush off her anxiety, it didnāt work. How much longer could she live in this fear? It wasnāt fair to Connor. Every eight year old should have a stable, predictable life. Connor deserved to live in the same place for more than a few months at a time. He needed a safe place to call home.
This wasnāt how sheād imagined her life turning out.
Always looking over her shoulder. Tense. Afraid.
She reached her SUV and rounded it to the driverās side. Relief filled her. That footfall had been her imagination.
As she hit the button to unlock her door, a man rushed from the shadows.
She dropped her bag and tried to scream. Before she could, the manās fist collided with her jaw. The force of the hit propelled her backward, into her vehicle. Her head snapped back, cracking against the SUV.
It was the man from the store. The one with arms that looked like tree trunks. With a neck as thick as his head. Who towered above her by a foot, at least.
She hadnāt been paranoid.
āDid you think we wouldnāt find you?ā he mumbled. Spittle showered her, followed by a blast of the manās hot breath. āWe always find who weāre looking for.ā
Her knees went weak, and she began sinking to the ground. She didnāt stand a chance against this man. Her one hundred and twenty pounds werenāt enough. Her cell phone was out of her reach. Her keys jangled as her feet hit them on the asphalt.
This man was going to kill her, and she could do nothing about it.
No, she had to think about Connor. She had to fight for him. She couldnāt let this man win.
Her gaze quickly scanned her surroundings for somethingāanythingāshe could use as a weapon. All she saw were a dozen broken eggs, a busted milk carton and a loaf of bread.
Tears threatened to squeeze out as the man grabbed her blouse and jerked her back to her feet. His fist struck her stomach.
Deep, jarring pain made stars swim before her eyes. Her ribs ached. Air squeezed from her lungs.
āYou have some very powerful people looking for you.ā He pressed her against the SUV. āOne in particular said you need to pay for what youāve done.ā
Wasnāt there anyone else out here? Anyone to call for help? The SUV formed a barrier, making it impossible for anyone coming from the store to see them.
āLeave me alone,ā she mumbled, her head spinning. āSomeone already killed my husband.ā
āSomeone killed him?ā He grunted. āYou killed him. An eye for an eye.ā
āOf course I didnāt.ā Her voice cracked.
āThatās not what I heard.ā
āPlease. I have a son. He needs me.ā Maybe she could reason with this man. It was doubtful. But maybe. She didnāt have many options right now.
She quickly soaked in the manās features. Gold tooth. Snake tattoo stretching up his neck. Sheād never seen him before. He had to have been contracted by someoneāone of her husbandās former friends.
āI wasnāt hired to be compassionate. I was hired to bring you inādead or alive. Dead would be less of a hassle.ā
The man punched her in the gut again. The air rushed from her lungs. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out something shiny.
A knife, Samantha realized.
Any hope she had for surviving disappeared faster than her last paycheck.
Dear Lord. Help me!
Just then, a siren screeched in the distance. The man startled at the sound.
Adrenaline surged in Samantha. She had to fight for her life. To fight for her son.
Finally, the scream that had been lodged in her throat escaped. She pushed the man away with a strength that surprised even her. Then she sprinted toward the store.
She ran, not looking back until she reached the inside. There, she sagged against the wall.
She glanced outside, just in time to see the man scowl at her. He climbed into his car and squealed off. She was safe. But for how long?
She had to get Connor and run. Where? She didnāt know. What would she do once she got there? She had no idea.
But staying here was not an option.
* * *
āI know people think Iām crazy, but Iāve got to do this.ā John Wagner leaned back in his chair, not liking the tension across his chest. Heād felt this tension for far too long now. āIāve got to make some life changes. Iāve been in denial about it for a long time.ā
āI think itās a good choice,ā his friend Nate said. āEven if people think youāve lost your mind.ā His friend grinned as he leaned against an empty table in The Revolutionary Grill. It was Tuesday night, the one night of the week the grill didnāt open. Thatās why John always stopped by, every week on the same night, to hang out. Nate and his wife owned this place.
Today would be Johnās last visit for a while, though. In the morning, heād leave for Smugglerās Cove where he would begin a new adventure. Heād worked at the Coast Guard Training Center here in Yorktown for the past five years.
Now it was a time for a fresh challenge: restoring nine cabins on the remote island of Smugglerās Cove, located in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. John was looking forward to some new scenery and new faces. Mostly, he was hoping his soul might be restored right along with the old cabins.
Since Alyssa had died, nothing in his world had felt right. This life change was his last-ditch effort to find some peace, to make things right with himself. He prayed to God that would be the case. If this didnāt work, what would?
Finally, John took his last sip of coffee and stood. He raised his cup in acknowledgment of all the Tuesdays he and Nate had done this. āAs always, thanks for the coffee. You guys will definitely be what Iāll miss the most about this place.ā
āWeāll be out there to visit you in a week,ā Nate added. āWork fast.ā
āYou know how to put the pressure on, but thereās no one else Iād work as hard for.ā It was the truth. Nate and his wife Kylie had been loyal friends to him. Heād do anything for them.
Just then, the back door of the restaurant flew open. Johnās gaze traveled through the kitchen, swerving in the direction of the sound.
A woman stood in the back entrance, her eyes wide. Blood trickled from her forehead, her lip was busted, her gaze looked frantic.
Nate rushed toward her, his eyebrows furrowed together in worry. āSamantha? Are you okay?ā
The woman nodded and touched her forehead.
Thatās right, John realized. It was Samantha, the woman who was renting the room above the restaurant. Heād hardly recognized her in her disheveled state.
John had seen her around a few times. She was hard not to notice with her trim build, soft blond hair that fell to her shoulders and the mysterious air about her. She kept to herself, but her gaze was always searching her surroundings, as if she was on guard or looking for someone.
Sheād spiked Johnās curiosity, but that was as far as it had gone. Ever since Alyssa, John knew he didnāt deserve the chance to even consider a relationship. Besides, Samantha seemed like a closed book, someone whose body language screamed, āKeep your distance.ā
John joined his friend, scanning for trouble out the backdoor window. Before he even reached Samantha, he could see her trembling.
āIām fine,ā Samantha muttered. Her gaze fluttered to Nate and then John. āJust a little...anāan accident.ā
John was sure those injuries were from anything but an accident. Had someone done that to her? Anger surged in him at the thought.
Heād seen firsthand the devastation that happened when people didnāt treat others as humans. Alyssa had been a prime example, and his heart still broke at the memory.
āThat must have been some accident,ā John muttered, soaking in her injuries.
Samantha shrugged. Her gaze fluttered wildly about the room, and she gripped her purse. āIām sorry. I canāt talk now.ā
āCan we help you get cleaned up, at least?ā Nate asked. āI can grab my first-aid kit, put some ointment on that cut.ā
She shoved a hair behind her ear. āIāll be fine.ā She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. Her tremble was more noticeable when she extended her arm. āHereās the rest of my rent for the month. Iām afraid Iām going to have to take off. Family emergency.ā
āAnything I can do to help?ā John asked, even though it wasnāt his business to ask.
āNo.ā She shook her head. āIām just going to grab my things and pick up Connor. Weāre going to hit the road tonight.ā
Nate shifted, worry wrinkling the corners of his eyes. āYou canāt wait until morning?ā
Samantha shook her head. āIām sorry. But Iāve got to go now. This canāt wait.ā She paused and sucked on her lip for a minute. āLook, you and Kylie have been really kind to me. I donāt know how to say this, but please be careful. Be safe. Especially safe.ā
āWhatās going on, Samantha? I donāt like the sound of that.ā Nate, a seasoned Coastie, had always been tough, strong and fair. Right now, he sounded on edge.
John wanted to step in, to say more, to help in some way. But he didnāt know the woman, and Nate did. He held his tongue, restrained himself from pushing Samantha for answers. It was obvious that she needed help, even if she wouldnāt admit it or accept it when offered.
She took a step toward the staircase leading to her apartment over the restaurant. āI donāt have any time right now. Iāve got to go.ā
She rushed up the stairs. Halfway up, she dropped her purse and the contents clattered down. John retrieved some lipstick and a pen. He handed the items to her, noticing how she jerked back when their hands touched.
āThank you,ā she muttered before hurrying away.
John stomped back down the stairs and joined Nate at the back door. He wanted to get his friendās take on the situation. They moved away from the staircase so their voices wouldnāt carry.
āWhat was that about?ā John asked.
Nate rubbed his jaw, looking just as perplexed as John was. āI have no idea. Sheās scared.ā
āSomeone roughed her up,ā John muttered.
Images of Alyssa flooded his mind. He blanched at each memory before regret filled him. He should have done more to protect her. He should have known that the man whoād caused her so much misery in her past would return, that he wouldnāt be content to leave her alone.
āIāve seen that look before. Sheās terrified.ā John shook his head, unable to get the images to leave his mind. āWhat do you know about her?ā
Nate shook his head. āNot much. She keeps to herself. Always pays her rent on time. Dotes over her son. But sheās offered very little in terms of personal information. We donāt ask. If she wants us to know, we figure sheāll tell us.ā
John clenched his jaw, still replaying the conversation with her. āShe said, āBe safe.ā It sounds as if trouble might be coming.ā
āIāll keep my eyes open. Weāve had problems around here before.ā
āAnd they landed you in the hospital,ā John reminded him. āMaybe I should stick around, be an extra set of eyes....ā
āYou do your thing, John. Smugglerās Cove is your dream. Iāll take care of things here or call the police if I have to.ā
John hated to walk away when a storm could be brewing. Especially since Nate and Kylie had a toddler and another baby on the way. Nate would need all the help he could get.
John prided himself on always being there for friends when they need him. Thatās one of the reasons why his failure with Alyssa hurt so much.
Heād let her down. Heād let their unborn baby down.
āI donāt like this,ā John finally said.
Nate clamped his hand on Johnās shoulder. āItās about time you did something for yourself. The change of scenery will be good for you.ā
But John didnāt know if he could do that. The image of Samantha standing in the doorway with fear in her eyes would haunt him. So would the remembrance of her busted lip and the cut on her forehead.
Could he really go on with this new chapter of his life just as heād planned? He didnāt know.
* * *
Samanthaās thoughts raced a mile a minute as she zipped her suitcase. Her jaw and her head ached. Even her eyes hurt as tears threatened to push out.
She had to get a grip. She had to pick up Connor and keep moving. And she didnāt have much time.
Samantha didnāt know where sheād go, how sheād get there or what sheād do once she arrived. All she knew was that she had to leave.
She gave one last glance at the apartment. At one time, sheād thought the small space was perfect. Sheād wondered if they might find a home here in Yorktown. And maybe one day Kylie and Nate could be her friends.
She should have known better. A stable lifeāfeeling normal and without fearānone of those things were her reality right now. The notion of a safe, happy life was only a farce.
Stepping back onto the landing, Samantha closed the door behind her. She heard the lock click, the sound cementing her plans to run.
Here I go...again. Lord, watch over me. Show me where to go. Pour Your wisdom over me.
Hauling her suitcases behind her, she thumped down the stairs. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears. Each pulse seemed to echo the urgency of the situation.
Go. Move. Run.
All she wanted was to find a place to stay. Rest. Be.
At the landing by the back door, she looked back. Just as she expected, Nate was standing there, waiting for her. Sheād known he wouldnāt accept her flimsy explanation. His friend was gone, though. John was gone.
That was probably good. The manās eyes had seemed too intense, too curious...too compassionate. She feared her reaction to him. Whenever heād come into the restaurant and Samantha had spotted him, her heart had raced.
The man was attractive. Really attractive. He was tall with dark, neat hair. His body looked sculpted and firm. He seemed to be a loyal friend to Nate and Kylie. He wasnāt the loud or pushy type. Instead, he seemed steady, patient and strong.
āSamantha, are you sure you have to go?ā Nate asked. Concern stained his eyes, pulling her back to reality.
She nodded, her throat dry. She crept closer and closer to the door, unable to stay in one place. āIām sorry. I hope I didnāt bring trouble your way.ā
āTrouble?ā
She licked her lips, panic fluttering through her. āIāve said too much already.ā
What was she thinking? She should have just slipped away quietly. Too bad there wasnāt a training course for how to effectively go on the run and disappear off everyoneās radar. The problem was that Nate and Kylie had a toddler, and a baby on the way. Sheād never intended to put them in harmās path.
āMaybe Kylie and I can help....ā
āNo one can help, but thank you.ā She stared at him another moment, wishing she could offer more of an explanation. āThank you for everything.ā
He finally lowered his chin, his lips pulled into a tight line. āBe safe.ā
She nodded again. āThanks.ā
She stepped outside into the warm, dark summer night. She really had liked it here. Living above the little restaurant. Enjoying the waterfront, the shops, the history.
The area had seemed so safe, so quaint and friendly.
Her desire to keep her son safe trumped her wish for a stable life, though.
She ambled across the parking lot, pulling her suitcase and heaving Connorās backpack up higher on her shoulder. Was she really ready to start another new life? Exhaustion pulled at her at the thought.
As she rounded the corner, a figure in the shadows caught her eyes.
Oh, no! He was back. The man from the grocery store.
Samantha wasnāt sure she had enough fight left in her to survive another confrontation.