Unbearable Fear Page 8

  Hector immediately reached for the blade.

  Suddenly, a green ray flicked in Hector’s eyes, blinding him. Heat flushed over his body turning off every thought. He went deaf. His arms went limp. His mouth went slack.

  Someone helped him sit on a stool.

  “Sir, sir, are you all right?” Someone beamed a flashlight into Hector’s eyes.

  He sat on a barstool staring at his reflection in a huge mirror. A reflection he didn’t recognize.

  He shook his head, trying to beat the fog out of his head. “Where am I? What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m a paramedic. My name is Rick Hall. You’re at Bagalis.” A short man in a blue uniform was leaning over him. “The restaurant is closing, and you’ve been sitting in front of the bar not moving, staring at a beer.”

  A full glass of beer was in front of him, but he didn’t remember ordering one.

  A cop watched him warily. By the front door, a gray-haired woman whispered to two young women and an older man.

  Rick sat on a stool next to him. “Do you know your name?”

  “Yes, I know my name.” Bill…No, Tony…Blue…Sweat trickled down his neck. His long hair stuck to it.

  Rick glanced at the cop then back at him. “Sir, do you remember your name?”

  “Yes.” He moistened his lips. His eyes brightened. “Hector. That’s it. My name’s Hector Savage.”

  “That’s great, Hector. Do you remember what happened?”

  “Happened?” Hector looked around the red brick restaurant with a large wine cooler. The dead fireplace. He inhaled oregano, sausage, and tomatoes. Italian. He was in an Italian restaurant.

  “Did anyone give you anything like a drug?”

  Hector jumped at the paramedic’s soft voice. “No. I don’t even remember how I got here.”

  “Take your time.”

  “Green light. I remember a green light.”

  “You mean like a street light?”

  “No. Darker.”

  “I see. Mr. Savage, do you know what state you’re in?”

  Hector scratched his head. “State?”

  “Yes, what state?”

  It was dark outside and hard to make out the vegetation. Pictures of the coliseum, rows of olive trees and wineries, and food hung in the restaurant, but he knew he wasn’t in Italy.

  Or at least pretty sure.

  “Wyoming? No…that’s not right.” He tried to remember. Pain slammed into his temples, and he winced. His stomach flipped-flopped. “I’m not feeling well. Did someone slip me something? How long have I been sitting here?”

  The policeman shook his head. “He just told you.”

  “At least an hour.” The paramedic motioned to the clock. “The restaurant was ready to close fifteen minutes ago. When they talked to you, you didn’t answer and you were drooling.”

  “I was?”

  “So?” The police officer’s voice was far from patient.

  “I think we need to take him to the emergency room. His eyes are dilated.”

  “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  Hector held his head and rested his elbows on the bar. His heart pounded faster. Each time he tried to remember, the pain intensified.

  Breathe, just breathe.

  Within a few minutes, he found himself in an ambulance and rushed to the emergency room. He was stretched out on a hospital bed. A female doctor that looked ten years younger than him examined him and checked his vitals. She kept going in and out of focus. She’d told him her name, but he’d already forgotten it, and her name tag was too blurry to read.

  “Mr. Savage, your vitals are normal. I couldn’t find anything wrong with you, but you seem flushed. I would like to do a blood test.”

  He rubbed the bridge between his eyes. “Fine.”

  “I do need to ask you a few more questions?”

  “Okay, fine.”

  “Do you know who the president of the United States is?”

  “What?” He dropped his arm.

  “Do you know who the president of the United States is?”

  “Of course, I do. Why are you asking me these stupid questions?”

  “Please, Mr. Savage, it’s important.”

  “It’s…Bush…wait…no, that’s not right….Clinton…Obama?” His voice faded. His headache thumped between his temples–wrongwrongwrongwrong.

  “Mr. Savage, you’re very disoriented. I’d like to keep you overnight.”

  “Fine.” He closed his eyes. How the devil could he not know who the president of the United States was?

  Chapter 11

  Bagalis was busy. Two bartenders were busy filling drinks at the bar, waitresses were bringing food and drinks to tables, and customers were talking loudly.

  Hector walked into the bar with Sandra. Skye immediately pulled her cap down lower and slinked in her chair. Most women found him good-looking with his thick brown hair, deep dark eyes, and devilish smile.

  But he was a monster.

  Their eyes met. Skye sat in her chair paralyzed, her palms slick. It was as if she were trapped in a scary movie.

  Hector forced Sandra to move across the crowded room.

  Walfea blocked Hector’s path. Skye’s heart froze. She gripped the edge of her table tightly.

  Walfea pulled out the memorizer. It was as if he moved in slow motion. She couldn’t breathe.

  Walfea aimed the memorizer at Hector.

  Everything stood still.

  Lights dimmed. Noise stopped. Smell gone.

  A green light flashed over Hector. It only lasted a second. That was it? A simple damn green light? That was supposed to immobilize her stalker?

  She exhaled loudly. All the sounds, lights, and smells turned on again. Her gut twisted into Bagalis’ famous garlic knot.

  “Shit, I am so screwed.”

  Hector would be charging-bull-elephant pissed.

  Walfea motioned for her to get out of her chair. Hector sat on a barstool staring at a beer. The space between Walfea and Hector was too narrow.

  She wasn’t one of those too-dumb-to-live-heroines in the horror movies. For all she knew, Hector was faking it and would come to life at the last second.

  No, she was quite happy where she was.

  Walfea motioned again, but this time, he had a sergeant scowl that said move it.

  A waitress walked over to Skye, oblivious to the danger. “Would you like another glass of wine?” Her voice was so sweet that Skye wanted to knock her teeth in.

  “No, thank you. I’ll take the check.”

  The waitress returned with her bill, blocking her view of Hector. Skye wanted to hit her with a crutch. She wanted to scream at everyone to look at the monsters.

  But she flashed her waitress a smile.

  Walfea snapped his fingers and mouthed her name.

  She wasn’t a damn dog.

  Sandra was huddled against the end of the bar. Her ashen face reminded Skye of a frightened white rabbit too terrified to move. Skye couldn’t abandon her. No telling what the bastard had done to her.

  She forced her shaking legs to move, never taking her eyes off Hector. He just sat in his chair, his arms limped at his side, staring at the beer as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

  Walfea left him alone. He was much too confident for Skye’s taste. He headed over to Sandra and said something to her. Skye couldn’t hear what he said, but it hadn’t gone over well.

  She jerked away. “Stay away from me.”

  Skye’s waitress cast her a worried look then glared at Walfea.

  Shit, this was about to go south.

  Skye moved faster–well as fast as someone on crutches could move–praying she wasn’t making the worst mistake of her life. She kept one eye on Hector, her beating heart threatening to explode.

  “Sandra.” Her voice was so small that her pumping blood blocked it out.

  “Sandra.” Walfea had his hands out to his side. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

&n
bsp; She shook her repeatedly, blond hair flying into her face. “Nononono!”

  Skye cleared her throat, keeping her gaze on Hector. “Sandra.”

  Sandra stopped shaking her head, her lower lip trembled. “Skye?”

  Skye tilted her head toward Walfea.“It’s all right. He’s a friend.”

  Hector was only a few feet from her. She hoped her Rockies cap hid her terror that was etched on her face. The worse thing she could do was to show him fear. With her crutches, it would be so easy for him to capture her.

  “We need to go.” Walfea braced his body between them and Hector.

  Sandra’s eyes were bigger than saucers. “No, no, he’ll––” Her voice reached a hysterical peak.

  “Shhh, Sandra.” Skye maneuvered toward the glass door that seemed a million miles away. “Come with us. Please.”

  Sandra bit her lip, and luckily, broke out of her trance. She followed them quietly out of the bar.

  Hector hadn’t moved. He seemed to be in a trance.

  “I’m out front.” Walfea led them out the door then to his truck that was parked on the side street.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Skye kept glancing over her shoulder, afraid to see Hector charging toward them.

  Walfea opened the passenger side. First, he lifted Sandra up. She winced and bit her lip. Shit, Hector had done something to her.

  He scooped Skye up into his arms. “See that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “He hurt her, Walfea.”

  “Do you want me to take her to the hospital?”

  “Yes. How long will the memorizer last?”

  “About six hours.”

  “Then, he’ll remember?”

  “Yes.”

  She shuddered. “He’s going to be pissed.”

  He kissed her briefly on the lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready for him.”

  “You’d better. You don’t know what Hector’s like when he’s Hulk-mad.”

  “You’ve no idea what I’m like when I’m angry.”

  She studied his face, not sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

  Sandra had her arms wrapped tightly around herself and was rocking back and forth on the front seat. An ugly red cut was around on her wrist. Skye recognized that wound. Sandra had been restrained.

  Skye pulled off her baseball cap and ran her fingers through her crumpled hair. “Sandra, I think we should take you to the hospital.”

  “No.”

  “Sandra–”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I said no.”

  “Okay.”

  Walfea drove them to Sandra’s in silence.

  When they pulled into the driveway, Skye looked at Walfea. “Please, carry her inside.”

  Sandra glared. “I can walk.”

  Skye clasped her arm. “Humor me.” She kissed Walfea on the cheek. “Please take her to my room.”

  He grinned like a lovesick fan. “Sure.”

  Skye followed behind them, still not convinced that Hector was a frozen popsicle.

  Walfea greeted her at the door. “I’ll secure the area.”

  “Thank you.”

  When she got into the bedroom, Sandra was in the bathroom sobbing softly.

  “Sandra, can I come in?” Skye slowly opened the door. “Sandra?”

  Sandra pulled down her shirt to cover long, ugly welts on her backside.

  “I’m sorry, Sandra. I know it hurts.”

  “I held out…I held out…as long as I could, but it…” She bit her lip. “It hurt. I’m so ashamed.”

  “No, don’t be. He did the same to me. He’s a monster. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. I still think we should go to the hospital and report him to the police.”

  “No.”

  “Sandra, the police–”

  “What? Protect me? It’s worked so well for you.” Her voice was like a hard punch to Skye’s gut–a fist of shame.

  “Oh, God. Forgive me.” Sandra sat on the toilet. “It was just so terrifying. He told me that if I reported him–”

  “He’d kill you. He’s very convincing.”

  “No, it wasn’t me that he’d said he would kill. It was you.” Her voice was a drum roll that ended in a boom.

  Skye’s lips and lungs froze.

  Breathe, just breathe.

  Sandra hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to go to the hospital. My mom…”

  Air finally slipped between Skye’s stiff lips. Will this nightmare ever end?

  Sandra’s mom would be furious about any negative publicity, especially since she was a well-respected scientist. Scandalous behavior would tarnish her perfect life.

  “I get it.”

  She released Skye and wiped away another tear. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  A mistake, but she smiled. “Okay.”

  Water thumped on the other side of the bathroom. Skye stretched out on the bed. The drama had sucked more out of her then dancing on the stage. Just a quick cat nap.

  A door shut.

  Skye jerked. Sandra was wrapped up tight in a white robe. Her wet hair slowly curled around her face.

  Skye yawned and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. “That was fast.”

  Sandra shrugged. “I’m not known for long showers.”

  Skye was known for marathon showers, but Sandra rarely indulged herself, thanks to her mother. Sandra could never please her. Skye’s own mother had been full of compliments and encouragement. She couldn’t imagine having Mommie Dearest for a mother.

  “Do you want me to put some salve on your back?”

  Sandra nodded. “There’s some aloe in the closest.”

  Skye patted the mattress. “Lay down girl.” She quickly returned with the green bottle and a bottle of antiseptic and bandages. She gently lifted up Sandra’s robe. She gasped.

  “I tried to…keep silent.” Sandra’s little voice painted an ugly picture.

  The swollen red welts, deep cuts, and purple bruises covered her lower back and her buttocks. Skye’s mouth ran dry and her gut burned with hatred. She wanted to take Hector’s belt and hang him from the highest tree until he was dead, dead, dead.

  “Oh, Sandra. How could you walk?”

  Sandra released a small sniff.

  Skye knew the answer. Sandra hadn’t had a choice.

  “Just relax. You’re safe.” She gently cleaned her wounds and dabbed the green gel onto the welts.

  Sandra stiffened and hissed.

  Skye pulled back her hands. “I’m sorry.”

  Sandra remained strangely silent. She wished Sandra would let them to take her to the hospital, but it was mute. Sandra feared her mother more than Hector.

  “I got some bandages, too. I’m going to put them on the worst cuts.”

  “That’s fine.” Her voice was shaky.

  Skye couldn’t believe that Sandra had endured this for her. Tears slid down her face and splattered onto her wrist. “Sandra, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen to you.”

  Sandra turned around. “Skye, don’t. You’re like a sister to me. I’d do anything for you.”

  They hugged each other tightly like combat veterans. Skye kissed her on the cheek. “And I’d do anything for you.”

  Like stomp Hector into a road kill.

  Skye closed her eyes. If Walfea hadn’t been there, no telling what Hector would have done. She could never repay him for what he’d done for her and Sandra.

  Someone knocked softly on the bedroom door. “Everything all right in there?”

  They broke away, both of them wiping their faces.

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” Skye managed to answer. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Skye and Sandra headed to the living room and huddled on the couch. Walfea added more wood to a crackling fire, but the fire failed to shake the chill gripping Skye. Her bones were ice, her exhale a cold cloud, and goosebumps were everywhere. Hector had turned her into an iceberg.

  Sandra laid her head on Skye’s shou
lder and sniffed.

  Skye put her arm around her shaking shoulders. She looked over her head at Walfea’s broad back. The light from the fire made him glow like an angel. He’d kept his word. The memorizer had worked perfectly. The whole thing had been easy, almost too easy.

  Hector would be back, back in a vengeance.

  Sandra sobbed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell him where the house was, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

  Skye rubbed Sandra’s back. “Don’t apologize, Sandra. Ever.”

  “Here, give her this.” Walfea frowned as he poured scotch into three glasses.

  Skye brushed her fingers over Walfea’s. The slight touch melted some of the cold. Heat flared up her fingers.

  He cast his gaze over her, moving slowly from her cheeks to her throat to her heaving chest, starting global warming.

  She cleared her throat. “Sandra, drink this. It will take the edge off.”

  Sandra clasped the glass with her trembling fingers. “He’s obsessed, Skye.”

  Skye stroked the back of Sandra’s head. “Drink.”

  Walfea set across from them in a recliner, his body crowding the stuffed chair, never taking his eyes off Skye.

  Sandra took a sip and coughed. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Drink it slow.” Skye gently patted Sandra’s back.

  “Hector’s crazy.” Sandra wiped her mouth with the back of her palm. “He said you belong to him. He’ll never stop hunting you. When he broke into my condo, he already knew you were up here in Frisco. But I don’t see how. I never told anyone where you were.”

  They both looked at Skye as if she were Benedict Arnold and had blabbed where she was going.

  “Skye, who did you tell that you were up here?” Walfea’s tone reminded her of a quiet prosecutor ready to go in for the kill.

  Her face heated into three degrees of hot. “I didn’t tell anyone.” She cast him a glare that she hoped burned a hole his head.

  But he wasn’t the slight bit perturbed. “You told no one.”

  “No! I didn’t. I swear.” God, could she sound any guiltier?

  She looked between both of them. Their silence strangled her. She squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Fine. I believe you.” His tone was anything but.

  Skye wanted to shake him until he believed her.