Release Me – By Vi Summers #3
“I’m tired of being scared, Scout,” I admitted, unable to stop myself from falling apart in his arms.
“I know, Shorty. A whole heap of people saw what he did, so we’re gonna take him down together, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Wendy came to our side and touched my shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Reed just told me what happened. Take a break out back, hon.”
Scout’s voice vibrated within his chest under my cheek. “Can I go with her, Wends?”
“Of course. Off you go. Anything she needs, drink or food, help yourself, Scout.”
“Thanks, Wendy,” he murmured, then escorted me into the back office.
As soon as we stepped into the quiet room and he clicked the door shut behind us, Scout’s arms wrapped around me and held so tight I could barely breathe.
“Fuck, Merce,” he murmured, tone filled with heartache and worry.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’ve been trying so hard to avoid him and never thought he’d confront me at work.”
“Not the fucking point, Shorty,” Scout hissed. “I don’t know how Fields stopped at just choking him out. The broken fingers are nothing compared to what he deserves.”
I gently extracted myself from Scout’s arms. “I know. If I had it my way, I’d never see him again. Unfortunately, short of moving towns, there’s not much I can do.”
“He’s an abuser, babe. He’s the one that needs to be put behind bars.”
I snorted humorlessly. “Ironic, since I wouldn’t have met him if Beckett wasn’t in jail.”
Scout’s expression transformed from anger to remorse. “It’s a night I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try.”
We’d both been in the car that fateful night.
Along with two other friends, plus Beckett, who got behind the wheel.
We’d been at a party and Beckett assured us he was okay to drive.
But we hit someone. Someone who died from their injuries, and Beckett was jailed with a minimum sentence of nine years and eight months.
A shudder ran through my body as my stomach turned on itself. “I’m glad I don’t remember the actual accident. It sickens me enough knowing I was in the car…”
“I’m fucking glad you don’t, Merce.” Scout’s lip curled in revulsion. “I wish I could erase it from my memory. It still turns my stomach ill.”
While he remembered the accident, Scout had never discussed the details with me to shield me from the horror that plagued him. He once explained that he didn’t want it haunting me like it haunted him, so from that day onward, I never asked about it again.
“Thank you for always sticking up for me,” I whispered, and tried my best to smile.
A light fist bump landed on my shoulder. “Anytime, Shorty.”
I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him hard, filled with gratitude and affection. He hugged me back just as tight, then kept his hands on my ribcage when I eased away.
Dark-brown eyes bore into mine. “Doin’ okay?”
I nodded and ran both index fingers under my eyes, hoping to undo any mascara smearing. “I am, thank you. Too bad we weren’t catching up over less heavy matters, though.”
Scout popped a smirk. “Next time, eh?”
A half-hearted giggle escaped my mouth as I turned to the mirror hanging by the door. “Yeah… in another two years.”
He folded his arms over his chest and gave me a sassy look. “You could come visit me in Portland, you know.”
My gaze connected with his through the reflection. “You need to come home more often.”
He rolled his eyes. “Now you’re sounding like Mom.”
I turned and playfully patted his chest. “It’s only because we miss you. I’d better get back to work—walk me out?”
That created the wide grin I’d missed. “Fuck yeah. C’mon, Shorty, wanna get all nostalgic and do some Quick Fuck shots with me? Wendy said to get you whatever you wanted or needed, and in my professional opinion, you could use a Quick Fuck or two.”
I knocked the laughter out of him with a quick backhand to his stomach and snickered wickedly. “I need more than a quick fuck, Scout. Getting out of this freaking town is what I need. But for now, two shots, max.”
Mercedes
By the time we got everyone out of the pub in the early hours of the morning, I was dead on my feet.
Constable Eric Locklear—one of the local constables who worked with Reed—was on duty and ready to escort me back to Lavender Cottage.
I could never be too careful, especially after Landon just brazenly assaulted me in front of everyone.
Poised for action, Eric straightened as I met him at the pub doors.
“Ready to roll?” he asked with a smile.
“Sure am. But please don’t judge my driving on the way home—I’m exhausted.”
He set a gentle hand on my upper arm. “Been drinking tonight, Mercedes?”
“Just two shots about four hours ago. I’ve had food and a gallon of water since.”
Happy with that, Eric nodded and swept his arm toward the exit. “Then let’s get you home, Miss Balaam.”
I stepped into the night and hovered close to the constable. While the parking lot lights lit the area enough for me to confirm no one lurked within attacking distance, Eric flanked me to my car and guarded the door until I was locked inside.
“Wait in your car at the cottage until I’ve cleared it,” he warned through the window.
Nodding, I buckled up and cranked the ignition while he slid behind the wheel of his patrol car beside me. After a thumbs-up, I reversed and slowly drove home with him diligently following.
I rolled to a stop in my driveway and turned off the ignition. The thud of Eric’s car door was loud through the darkness, then my already frayed nerves began to strip apart further as he commenced his security sweep of the front yard.
I’d called Lavender Cottage my home for the last three months. Leif Gatlin bought it soon after the original owner, old Ms. Alden, was put in respite care, and Leif allowed me to rent it after he heard about my rough split from Landon.
When Eric disappeared down the far side of the cottage and his flashlight faded, my fingers involuntarily tightened on the steering wheel. My heart pounded and reduced my breath to short, sharp pants that soon had the car windows beginning to fog.
“C’mon, c’mon,” I chanted, anxious as fuck for him to come back into view.
Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. My pulse kicked and lungs squeezed as I barely restrained my flight reflex.
The dark figure ran from the garden, gunning straight for my car.
A strangled scream knotted in my throat as sheer terror paralyzed me from the inside out.
I jolted when the man roughly tried the passenger door handle, then slammed his hands against the window.
Dark eyes met mine through the narrow space between his black cap and face covering, creating a surge of fear-induced tingles throughout my body.
After drawing a full breath, a blood-curdling scream finally tore from my contorted mouth. I screamed so loud my ears rang. It drowned out the frantic knocking on the passenger window and tore the lining off my throat.
The echoes of that scream lingered while my body gathered strength for another. That second scream dried on the back of my tongue the instant the stranger tugged down his face covering, exposing his familiar features.
I gasped, froze, blinked, then burst into tears. It couldn’t be him. Surely.
Within seconds of palming my tears away and looking at the window again, he’d disappeared. My focus shifted when Eric came running from the shadows, pistol raised and flashlight frantically scanning across the front yard.
“I heard a scream,” he shouted while continuing his sweep.
I spluttered and stuttered, trying to work out if I’d merely seen a ghost or if it had in fact been Beckett in the flesh.
“Mercedes!” Eric snapped. “You screamed. Why?”
Feeling protected despite residual fear slowing my movements, I popped the driver’s door open and got out of the car. “It might have been my imagination…”
Still facing away, he backed toward me on high alert. “Was it Landon?”
I shook my head. “No. It looked like Beckett.”
His acute focus cut my way. “Beckett Manning?”
“Yeah,” I murmured and glanced around the shadows. “I thought I saw him.”
The sound of Constable Locklear clearing his throat was loud in the 2 a.m. shadows. I jumped when he called out, “Beckett, if you’re here, show yourself immediately!”
He lowered his pistol and cocked his head to listen. “Not a peep. Let’s get you inside, Mercedes, before we both start seein’ things.”
No need to tell me twice. I snatched my bag from the passenger seat and locked my car, then hurried along the garden path with Eric hot on my heels, and his hand pressed to my back. We paused on the porch as I slid the key into the door lock, and he touched my arm when the deadbolt disengaged.
“Let me go first and do a quick sweep just to put both our minds at ease, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied with a nod.
As the cottage door swung open, Eric moved past me, then shut the door once we were both inside. We flicked on lights as we walked through the old house, and I waited outside each room as he systematically cleared them. Once happy that it was just him and me inside, he visibly relaxed.
“All clear. See me out and lock the door immediately behind me. Call the station if you need us in a hurry, and we’ll be here within minutes.”
“Thank you, Eric. I really can’t thank you enough.”
His expression softened, and his friendly smile returned. “You’re welcome. Sleep tight, darlin’.”
“Thanks,” I whispered while trudging along behind him.
He checked outside before opening the front door, then firmly shut it behind him and waited until I’d engaged the deadbolt and chain.
“Night, Miss Balaam,” came his muffled voice.
“Night, Eric,” I called back.
I waited by the door until his patrol car eased from the driveway and cruised down the street. Now alone, prickles of fear rippled across my shoulders and created paranoia for no reason.