In the House On Lakeside Drive (4 page)

Chapter 5

“I hate winter.”

“Babe, you hate being cold. There's a difference.” Evan came up behind his green-eyed woman and rested his head on top of her shoulder as the couple stood near the fire. The sounds of three grown-up kids snoring around the living room played like classical music to dance to. Pale orbs took in the sight of Remy sprawled out over half the worn white couch, his hand tucked inside a half-eaten bowl of popcorn. Sam lay next to him, his head tilted backwards as he used the opposite corner of the couch as a makeshift pillow and the particle board coffee table as an ottoman. Josh's heart-stopping snores were muffled through the large floor pillow he laid on, his form nearly enveloped by a large fuzzy blanket pulled from his bed upstairs. “Looks like movie night was a success.”

“You mean after the hour it took for them to pick a movie or the second hour it took for them to make their snacks?” Rachel pointed out. Josh's ice cream bowl sat on the coffee table next to the large bowl of kettle corn that Evan liked. Rachel's thick blue robe was covered in cookie crumbs, and she could see traces of chocolate smeared over Sam's face.

“Admit it. It was fun.”

Rachel smiled as she watched her charges sleep. “Always is.” Evan was content to hold her awhile, taking in all the things he never thought he'd have. A shiver raced up his spine, and he worked hard to hide it.

“Cold?”

“No. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Lots of things. Mostly about how I'm glad I came here.” He pulled Rachel closer, as though she might disappear if he let go.

“Came, or ended up?” the young woman said with a smile.

“Either way. Turns out having a blown engine wasn't a bad thing after all.”

“Mmm.” The sounds of snores grew louder. “Rosa was asking about you the other day,” Rachel said. “Wanted to know if you were ready to sign papers yet.”

Evan sighed. “I can't.”

Rachel broke from Evan's gentle hold. “I get you've got some…issues, or whatever, but Evan, you
love
those kids. You love
these
kids,” she said, waving a sweeping arm at the sight before the pair. “If you can't tell anyone, please, at least tell me—what's stopping you? The projects are good—great in the summer—but I know you'd like something steadier. I can't think of anything steadier than working for the school.”

The thin man walked back toward his chair and sat down, nearly falling into it. “Rachel, there are some things about me…some things I have to work out for myself.”

“Like what? Evan, I know you. I know who you are. Whatever you're running from—and don't deny that, pal, you are
definitely
running from something—I don't care.”

“What makes you think I'm running from something?”

Rachel slipped into her own overstuffed armchair, keeping her voice quiet and even. “I've seen how you look at people sometimes, with this ‘oh, shit, they found me' look on your face. I've heard you take on some of the biggest assholes in town with a voice you're just finding. But honestly? I knew the night you came to the door, blown engine and all.”

Evan blinked back, surprised. “That obvious?”

“You looked as though I was going to call the cops at any moment. That's the other thing I know—whatever you're running from, it isn't the law. You're right, it's personal and it's your business, but…”

The two stared into the fire, letting the growing snores envelop them. “I had some…problems,” Evan began, his words halting. “In college.”

“Is that why you never finished?”

“Kind of. My old man wanted rich professional kids, nothing less—doctors, lawyers, college professors, that sort of thing. No creative or blue-collar work accepted. By the time I left high school, I already had an ulcer from the pressure. Then Dad comes home with my acceptance papers to pharmacy school, and tells me I don't have a choice since he's the one paying.”

“Pharmacy?” Rachel gave her boyfriend the once over. “Not in a million years.”

“Hey, you don't know my old man. It wasn't like I had any job skills—we came from some money, and Dad was a hell of a litigator—so no one saw a need for me to work through school. Problem was, I hated it. I hated school, I hated going to class, and eventually I hated even getting up in the morning. When I took my internship, the people at the pharmacy were all right, but again, I
hated
what I was doing.”

“Enough to try escaping?”

Evan shrugged. “I tried a lot of things, believe me, and nothing made it better. In the end I finally quit school. I just knew I couldn't live with myself if I became the pharmacist my dad wanted. Of course, the second I quit, he told me never to set foot in his presence again. The next day my bank accounts were empty.”

“Shit,” Rachel said. “No wonder you don't talk about home much.”

“What home? There's nothing back there, not for me. I wouldn't want my old man to know where I was anyway. If he ever saw me with kids like these guys, he'd literally die from shame.”

“Good thing. I wouldn't want him near these kids. They've got to deal with enough assholes staring at them or making some comment.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Evan's throat. “It's part of the reason I don't like Sam's dad. He's a great kid, the kind any family would kill for, but because he's blind, the jackass would rather pay to make him go away than accept Sam for himself.”

“Speaking of dads, was there a mom in your picture?”

Evan shook his head. “She died when I was fourteen. Liver failure. We knew she liked wine, but…I think she was trying to distance herself from Dad, to be honest. Hell, I was pretty much raising my two younger brothers before that, anyway.”

“Brothers?”

“Yep. Let's see…” Long fingers ticked off a count of years. “One's twenty-six, and the other is twenty-four now. Andy would be in college. I don't know what Ian is up to.”

“Wish I had brothers.”

“So there you have it,” Evan said. “My big dark secret. My father is a selfish, screwed-up bastard who didn't get his way when it came to my future.”

“Hon, everyone's got secrets. I'm sure that's not the only one, but at least you're willing to be open about them.”

“God, I love you.” Evan pulled Rachel into his lap, kissing her.

“Right back atcha, pal.” The pair stayed like that for a few moments, then turned to the sound of Remy shifting in his sleep. “So, you were gonna wake them up, right?”

Evan thought about that a moment. “Nah. Let 'em sleep. Serves them right, not finishing the second picture after they fought so hard to see it.”

“Fine by me. Let's put ourselves to bed, shall we?” A slow grin spread across Rachel's ivory face.

Chapter 6

In a drafty wooden shack several miles from the middle of nowhere, a wiry black man with dark brown eyes pulled what was serving as a poor man's winter overcoat tighter around his neck. The small propane heater had given out again, and the man sat at a rickety card table cursing the freezing weather.

“Why couldn't the bastard have picked a warmer place to hide out, like Arizona? Or Nevada? Vegas is nice this time of year,” He breathed onto chapped hands as the permanent chill that blanketed the thin walls threatened to seep straight into his bones. “Damn,
anywhere
but here.”

“Was the last place anyone would look, Riley,” another voice said as the front steps groaned under two hundred pounds of built muscle. “Good Southern boy running all the way to the Canadian border? Not likely. At least he didn't pick Iowa.” A round face grimaced. “Fuckin' flat, boring-ass place. Can get good business there, though. Not like there's a lot to do in Iowa.”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, Charlie,” his companion warned. “First things first.”

“How much fuckin' recon can he
do
on the guy?” Charlie said with a whine. “See, if it was me, I'd just go in and mess the bastard up a little, make him hurt a few days, and then drop him somewhere he won't be found.”

“And that's why you're not running this little operation,” a third voice said. The pair instantly looked up at the long face of their employer. “Our friend Liam owes me much more than that, and I intend to collect. Every goddamn penny.” Pale eyes blazed with fury at the thought of the man who had sent his nice, structured world into a downward spiral, and he pulled a cheap folding chair from one corner of the room and fell into it. His worn hoodie was trying to act as a winter parka, and it was failing miserably.

“Well, yeah,” Riley said. “There's that too, but if it was me, I wouldn't mind a little payback.”

“Do you know how much I lost? Millions. Millions!” A bony hand curled into a fist, pounding the flimsy table into submission. “Spauldings shouldn't
have
to work for their keep.

Riley stared at the simmering man before him, barely listening to the man's words. He'd spent the better part of three years listening to him rant and rave about wanting to get the asshole who had sent him to prison—
prison!
The nerve!—and left him penniless. Riley wasn't much for rich brats, but this one, at least, had a game plan with some merit. It wasn't like Riley had any plans once he got out anyway. A quick call to his cousin, Charlie, and they were on the road.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Charlie said, his tone brooking no argument. “So enough with the recon shit. We know where he is, we know what he's got, so what's stoppin' us from goin' in there and takin' what's owed?”

“Gentlemen, you're not seeing the larger picture.” The rage had died down, and now the man was speaking as calmly as a college professor about to gear up a lecture. “I don't just want his money. I don't just want him to hurt. I want him to
suffer.
I want him to suffer
a lot.
In every way imaginable.”

The cousins looked at each other. “The hell you on about, Dayton?” Riley asked.

“You're only seeing what he has in terms of money. You're only seeing what you can do to him in so much as inflicting pain.”

“Pain and money are real good motivators,” Charlie pointed out, leaning against a badly sagging wall. “Especially when you're the one gettin' the money and inflictin' the pain.”

“We've been here a little over a month. What does he do for a living?”

“Odd job shit,” Charlie said. “Fixin' things, runnin' errands.”

“So a general laborer has millions to just
give
us? Not hardly,” the man called Dayton spat. “I doubt he's got a pot to piss in.”

“He's got himself a real sweet girl, though,” Riley commented. “And
fine,
too. Wavy hair, curves in the right places…”

“Women are good motivators,” Charlie said. “Especially pretty ones.”

“The bastard's got it made, and we're out here freezin' our balls off,” Dayton snapped. He clapped his thick hands around his shoulders, rubbing them a little to generate some heat. “Damn heater conk out again?”

“Out of propane,” Riley said.

The flimsy table cracked into pieces as Dayton took his frustration out on the hapless object.

“Damn, dude, now where am I gonna put my coffee?” Riley sputtered.

“Figure it out. And get some more heat!” The cousins took the few bills in their employer's hand, stomping their shoes onto the splintering floorboards and peeling linoleum as they headed toward the door.
Few more days,
Dayton thought.
Few more days and I can get a plan into action…

* * *

“Open up, you stupid fuck!” The sound of a fist pounding on the office door sent James Vendell reaching for his secret stash of ibuprofen. It was already shaping up to be one hell of a day.

“Come on, asshole, open up!” a strong voice called out. “I know you're in there!”

James sighed, then pressed a button underneath his desk. There was a buzz, then the
click
of a lock releasing, and instantly the solid oak door slammed flush with the wall it was hinged to. “What in the
hell
is this
shit
?!” Cooper Lavelle screamed, sparks dancing in his dark brown eyes. He clutched the wrinkled, half-torn remnants of a legal notice in his fist.

“I would think that is rather obvious, Cooper.”

“This is
bullshit,
” the irate man yelled. “That money is
mine
!”

“For starters, it's your nephew's money.”

“'S my money,” Cooper replied, his words slurring a little. “Bastard wants it, he knows how to get it.”

“No,” James said, pulling his short frame to his feet. “Remy's not coming within a mile of you.”