Jake caught a punch in return and blocked another. Stepping to one side, Jake almost tripped over stacked pallets of drinks and saw Secrist’s shocked face. Poor delivery guy acted like he’d never seen a fistfight before.
He caught Masterson with a punch hard enough to knock him back against the pickup. “What the hell is this about?”
“You fucking bastard.” Masterson wiped blood off his chin. “I warned you not to hurt Kallie.”
Oh, hell. When Jake faltered, Masterson nailed him with a short one to the ribs.
As Masterson straightened and his fists came back up, Jake stepped out of reach. Kallie would probably beat the crap out of him if he put her cousin in the hospital. “I know I hurt her. Dammit, Masterson, I want to make it right.” He scowled. “If I can get her to listen to me. Is your whole family pigheaded?”
“Yes.” Masterson hadn’t moved, still in fighting stance. “Make it right how?”
“Whatever it takes.” Jake fingered his throbbing jaw. “Nice punch, you asshole. I love her, you know.” The words slipped out and stunned him into silence. What the hell? Yet the undeniable rightness flooded through him-and then slammed him hard enough that he felt as if he’d taken a.44 Magnum in the chest. “Damn,” he said, and the curse came out sounding like the wheeze of an old geezer.
Masterson huffed a laugh. “I bet that hurt more than my fists.”
No shit. Jake slumped against the side of the pickup next to the cop. “It did, you bastard. And I figure I’ll hurt a lot more before she’s through.”
“Hunt, she’s going to rip you to mincemeat and leave you bleeding in the dirt.” The cop appeared pretty damned happy about that.
Jake swiped the blood from his mouth. “Thanks a lot. Now if you’ll let me-”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“Sorry, but the chief wants to see you now.” The cop nodded toward the station, then glanced up at the darkening sky. “Besides, Kallie might well spend the night in her special spot by the creek while she calls you every filthy name in her vocabulary. Best if you give her till morning to cool off.”
Wait until morning? Far too long. Jake considered. He had a flashlight in the truck, and he’d hiked trails in the dark before. “You only have the one trail, right? Just to the west of your cabin?”
Masterson frowned and then nodded.
“How do I find this place?”
The cop crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll come and answer questions first.”
“Deal.”
“Her retreat is by a creek. About half a mile up the trail. Watch the left-hand side for her name marked in white stones. A tiny path leads downhill to the stream.” Masterson frowned. “You know I still don’t like your…hobby.”
“Didn’t ask your opinion.” Jake rubbed his aching ribs. “If you want mine: anyone using the missionary position twice in a row should serve time.”
Masterson choked on a laugh.
The bitch. He should never have let her live. Now see what had happened-her evil had spewed over two good men, two brothers, until they came to blows in the street. And Hunt planned to crawl back to her. Even after the men had left, the cop’s words rang in his ears: “…
His stomach heaved, and he fled into the store, barely making it to the small bathroom in the rear before everything spilled out of him. He vomited over and over, his stomach in knots. Fear slimed his skin. Had he taken in some of her evil?
Eventually the sickness passed. After, he wiped his mouth and used a paper towel to wash the sweat from his face. His hands shook as if he had Parkinson’s like old Gus, and terror halted his breath. Was he dying now? Deliberately poisoned by demons so he couldn’t complete his duty.
He couldn’t let them win. He exhaled slowly, forcing calmness, and the trembling slowed. Poison hadn’t caused his sickness then. He shook his head at his weakness that had let his past overwhelm him. Seeing the fight had brought it all back.
Ugly memories… Even after he realized everything was
She’d laughed at him. Her dark eyes had flashed, filled with malice. Her voice had cut through him, tearing pieces of his soul away with each word. “
She’d started to turn away as if he were nothing, and then…right then he’d seen his first demon. How it appeared in her eyes and reveled at his pain. His hand had risen-by itself, not under his control-and his fist had hit her over and over. The shrieks of the dying demon scraped across his ears until he thought he’d die from the pain. But when the evil had died, the silence had filled him with power until he felt invincible.
And he had been a man again.
With the memory of how he had hardened, how he had taken a man’s due, strength flooded through him. The shaking disappeared. He examined his hands-big hands and strong, capable of doing what must be done. He rose to his feet.
Andrew wiped the sink and the toilet, leaving the bathroom clean and tidy. He closed the door. As he walked out into the gray twilight, he noticed the remainder of the pallets sitting on the boardwalk. He should finish his work here. But urgency pulsed like a drum within him.
He should never have left her alive, there on that deserted road. And because of his uncertainty, his weakness, she had destroyed a brother.
But she would be alone now…right now. Holed up in her special area, she’d undoubtedly gloat over her victim, while evil surrounded her and covered the forests with filth. He couldn’t wait; he needed to act now. That was his job.
He stepped around the stacks and got into his truck, turning on the headlights as darkness spilled down the mountain.
Jake had never visited the Bear Flat police station before, and he wasn’t much impressed. The place appeared even smaller than the main room at Serenity. One puny-sized room with a table in the center and a couple of desks shoved into corners. Bulletin board, whiteboard for scheduling, phones everywhere. The chief of police had an office the size of an outhouse.
In there, Jake impatiently answered the questions put to him by Chief Jackson and Masterson. When had he seen Mimi last? Did she talk about Whipple?
Had she ever looked hurt?
“Only once,” he answered the tall, gaunt chief. “When she broke up with Whipple, he smacked her around.” Jake’s jaw tensed as he remembered the bruises on her smooth skin, her swollen lip and black eye.
“Knowing you, I’m surprised you let that pass,” Masterson said from his position
