Exception (72 page)

“He said he doesn’t care about it.”

“Fuck! If he doesn’t care about two million dollars, then just imagine how much he’s got. How much we could get. This is our golden ticket—don’t throw it away. Let’s stick to the plan, take him to Pappy’s, ask ransom. We’ll ask for five million. Let’s see if he cares about that.”

Jason looked from his brother to Taylor. He looked confused, and that look worried Taylor. “Jason, don’t listen to him,” he tried to reason. “Remember what we talked about? If you cross that line, if you call my family for ransom, there’s no turning back. The police will get you and you’ll spend a long time in prison. I won’t protect either of you and I won’t protect Rachel.”

“The fucker is using Rach against you, Jay. He’s manipulating you into giving me to the police. Don’t fall for it,” Nick yelled at his brother.

Taylor could see the change in Jason’s expression through the narrow mirror.
Oh fuck . . . this is not good!

Nick looked straight at his brother and continued. “You called Rach. You told her to go someplace safe and she’s smart, Jay, she’ll go somewhere Nando won’t find her, and when we have our five million we’ll all disappear. The three of us, together. You and me against the world, like it’s always been, Jay, don’t let Richie Rich fool you. Don’t let him destroy us.”

Both Taylor and Nick watched Jason’s jaw clench and unclench as he mulled over these thoughts. The breath Taylor so desperately needed refused to fill his lungs as he pushed against the cable ties even harder. He could feel his skin tearing and the muscles in his arms straining, but the damn strips of plastic wouldn’t break. He couldn’t get free, and he could see that Jason was changing his mind.

“Follow the plan, Jay,” Nick urged, looking back at Taylor with disdain. “Turn around; we’re less than twenty minutes from the cabin. We’ll call his bitch from there and tell her we want the money. When she brings it, I’ll fuck her seven ways of Sunday, like I should have done months ago, and beat his sorry ass to a bloody pulp like he deserves. You’ll get your money, pay your debt, get Rach and we’ll skip the country. No one will ever find us. I’ll get my revenge, you’ll get the good life and everyone will be happy. Just don’t chicken out now, bro. Don’t trust him—he’ll betray you like everyone else has. We only have each other.”

For the first time, the full picture became clear to Taylor. All this time he’d been thinking that Nick’s revenge was against him for beating him up, but he’d been wrong. He wanted revenge on Emily as well. Revenge for her not wanting him, for being the reason he lost his band and got pounded on. He would rape her and make her pay for something that wasn’t her fault. The idea turned Taylor’s stomach over and made him see red.

Taylor pushed against his restraints harder. If he wasn’t so numb with rage he would have felt the searing pain and seen the red liquid traveling down his hands, but he didn’t. He was too preoccupied watching Jason’s eyes travel between his reflection in the mirror and his brother on the front seat.

And then he saw it; uncertainty turned into resolve. The man’s eyes darkened and hardened, and a contrite nod delivered the verdict. Nick had won.

“Good choice, big brother. Good fucking choice! Now turn this motherfucking car around and let’s get your money and my pussy.” Nick laughed his crazy laugh and patted his brother’s knee.

With his plan A failed, Taylor closed his eyes, allowing his brain to survey every option he still had. He knew there weren’t many. He felt Nick’s hot breath blowing too close to his face and then that damned laugh sounded again, followed by a whispered voice that was pure evil. “I wonder if her mouth around my cock will be as sweet as I imagine. And that fine ass . . . I’m getting hard just thinking about fucking up it.”

Not a fucking chance in hell. No one will ever hurt my Emily again.

Taylor’s eyes scrunched tighter and his injured hands grabbed the edge of the seat, giving him leverage as he jerked his body forward with all his strength and head-butted Nick right in his nose. Blood poured over his forehead, matting his hair. Yelled obscenities filled the car, and a hand forced him back into his seat.

He opened his eyes and took in the scene playing out in front of him. The two brothers were yelling at each other and rain was starting to come down in heavy sheets. The car turned in a very sharp angle, switching from one lane to the other. In that chaotic moment, Taylor remembered one of Gabe’s many idiotic stunts from when they were teenagers, and clarity struck. He finally knew what he had to do.

Planting his feet firmly on the floor, Taylor pounced toward the space between the two front seats. Before either brother had a chance to react, he reached down to the emergency break and pulled hard on it. At the same time, he pushed his shoulder against Jason’s arms, forcing him to keep the steering wheel turned all the way to the left.

He knew what would happen next. He knew that it would be bad, but it was what needed to happen. Emily mattered more than anything, and keeping her safe was the only thing he really cared about.

The locked wheels flipped the car violently many times, jerking his body up and down, to some place he couldn’t see. Pain . . . indescribable pain shot everywhere. His head swam, and he felt a wave of vomit climbing up his chest. He tried to push his body on its side, but it wouldn’t obey.

Fuck it hurts!

His lungs burned, but he couldn’t pull air into them. They felt full, but they still burned.

I need to breathe.

He tried to open his eyes, but they also didn’t obey. His head hurt, and his body hurt, and his lungs hurt, and his chest hurt, and he couldn’t open his eyes, breathe or move.

This is it.

He allowed images of Emily to fill the dark and scary place behind his eyelids. Her smile, her eyes, the curve of her body as she reached to fix the pillows in the morning. The way her lower lip tilted to the left when she said she loved him, the way her face looked after they made love . . .

I’ve always known I’d love you till the end.

I’ll love you even after that.

I’m sorry, babe.

And then . . . there was peace.

E
MILY SLEPT
most of the day, but nothing brought relief to her aching heart. The awful thoughts that haunted her while awake returned during her dreams, completely overwhelming her with nightmares. There was no denying that, without Taylor to hold and soothe her, she was bound to be stuck in zombie-land.

In every dream she stood in the elongated version of the corridor of her childhood home and stared at the endless line of doors with brass knobs that led to her worst fears. Inside each door she found a new scary place to look for Taylor. For hours she looked in shark-infested seas, a field overrun by flesh-eating zombies and, finally, in a house where spirits dwelled. When she finally found him, in every situation, it was too late. The sharks had eaten him, the zombies had turned him and the sprits were guiding him to the beyond. Every time she was left alone, despairing and hoping that she would be destined to endure the same fate. However the sharks didn’t want her; the zombies ignored her; and the spirits vanished when she tried to reach them.

Waking up would have been a sweet relief if the reality didn’t feel so similar to the nightmares.

Where are you, babe? Come back to me,
she pleaded in her mind. She tried to roll over in her bed, but her body felt stiff. Her eyes were aching and her lips were glued together. She felt her stomach roll, even though she hadn’t eaten anything the entire day. She hadn’t drunk anything either, and she could feel her body begging for some water. With the tiny box still in her hand, she forced her eyes open and swung her legs out of the bed. She took tiny, weak steps to the doorway, where she’d discarded her jeans, and wrestled them on again without ever letting go of the box.

Using the hallway walls for support, she made her way to the kitchen. She could see by the fluorescent lights illuminating the living room that it was already dark. Voices mixed together and grew louder as she approached the entryway. Her head pounded at the noise.

The police officers working in her dining room looked serious and busy. Emily frowned at the sight, but thought is was how they should be. However, when she turned her slow focus to the sitting area in the living room, her blood froze and her knees weakened.

Tina was seated in one of the armchairs by the window. Her body was doubled over, her head nested in between her knees. The waves of emotion that shook her back and the prostrated figures of her husband and middle child on their knees, rubbing her back, were clear indication that she was crying. Right next to them were Penelope and Nate. His arms were wrapped around her tiny frame like a vice, their entwined bodies shaking with their combined sobs. Her best friends and sister sat in the corner with pained faces and, upon seeing her, they blanched, like they had just seen a ghost. Finally, her eyes took in the sight of Detective Bronson sitting awkwardly with them, her face tired and defeated.

“What’s going on?” Emily’s voice was alien to her, and the dry lump in her throat ached to form the words. It took all but two seconds for her sister and two best friends to be by her side, touching her arms, back and hair. She wanted none of that.

“Emily,” the detective started in a flat and apologetic voice. “The fire department in northern Maine found Taylor’s car.”

For the first time in god knows how many hours, Emily inhaled enough air to fill her lungs.
They found Taylor. He’s coming home. We’re getting married.
She clenched her fingers around the box tighter and brought it to her chest.
Oh, thank god! Oh, thank you, Nana.

A loud, pained sob came from Tina, breaking though Emily’s hopeful thoughts. Her red puffy eyes looked from one woman to the other, as the information started to piece together in her mind.

No!

She shook her head as her eyes stung with a new wave of tears she didn’t know she was able to produce. Her chest felt hollow and breathless. Being punched in the gut would have felt better and, in that terrible moment, she wished she were a kid again. She wished she was in Jane’s house, and that the pain she felt was due to another hard blow. She could manage that pain; she knew it would pass. This one would not.

Arms tightened around her. She wanted nothing to do with them, and even in her weakness, she struggled. However, they didn’t let her go.

No . . . no . . . no . . .

“There was an accident, Emmy. The police are there to see what happened but, according to the paramedics, it was pretty bad. The car flipped and there was fire . . . and . . . ” It was Charlotte’s voice, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“No,” Emily whispered as she used every ounce of her strength to push the various arms holding her and move away. “No . . . no . . . no . . . ” she continued in between sobs, her tears blurring her vision.

“I’m so sorry, Emily. They’re still working on identifying the bodies, but . . . ”

“No!” she yelled. She didn’t want to hear one more word from the detective who exchanged looks with Charlotte before apologizing, and walking to the dining room to join her colleagues.

Emily’s eyes were frantic and desperate as she searched the room. She had no idea what she was looking for; perhaps it was hope? But she knew there was none to be found. Like in her nightmares, Taylor had been taken from her, and when he was finally found it was too late. She was alone in zombie-land and there was no coming back; not without him.