How he got in, she never figured out. Later on, she never found any sign of forcible entry. No locks were jimmied. None of the codes were bypassed or hijacked. No windows were broken. But as she walked into the kitchen, there he stood.
“Well, hello beautiful!” Cutter was sitting backward in a kitchen chair, legs spread wide, chin resting on his forearm. “Miss me?”
“What are you doing here?” She fought to stay calm, but fear gripped her to the point her legs almost buckled.
“Is that any way to treat a guest?” That mocking smile on his face made her want to take a knife from her silverware drawer and stab him in the eye.
I can’t go through this again! I just can’t! She knew the pattern all too well. He would only take her further and further into the heart of a black hole of depravity. He would make her his personal whore simply because he could. And it would only be a game to him.
She knew right then and there she would die first.
“Get out of my house, Cutter.” She was surprised out how steady her voice was, despite the terror she was feeling. She had never felt so violated, not even with all the things he’d led her into doing before. This was her home. She might as well have found a nest of snakes in her closet. She had to feel safe here. If not here, then where?
“C’mon, Lulah. We’re wasting time here. I’ve been missing me some of your fine-ass, li’l pink pretty. And I know you been missing me.”
“Oh yeah!” She stuck her chin in the air sarcastically. “Sooooo bad! Y’know, I must’ve just lost your number. That’s why I ain’t called you in over three months.”
He stood up, sliding the chair across the floor as he did in one smooth, practiced motion. It was the kind of stunt that might impress a twenty-something. Boyish theatrics held no charm for her.
He moved toward her, resolve in his eyes. “Hell, I’m here now. In the flesh. Ain’t no kids, no hubby. Just you and me. Picking up where we left off.”
“We ain’t pickin’ up anything!” She’d dug in her heels. She knew that to back down now would be fatal. Slowly, she began to back away, oh-so-cautiously. She knew a sudden, panicked move … and he’d be on her before she was ready.
“Yeah, I’ve heard this same shit before,” he said, voice low and deep, his eyes now hooded and dangerous. It was the look of a predator closing in on his prey. He was growing aroused and excited by the hunt. He wanted her to resist. To put up a fight. It would make it all that much more satisfying to him when she gave in.
Not this time. Not ever again. She had her kids to think about now. They depended on her. He cared nothing about her or her children. He only cared about using her for his own twisted pleasure. The night with the strangers had proved that. What else would he want her to do? What other acts would he want her to perform on whatever whim or fancy he suddenly had? Once he through with her, she had no doubt she would resemble nothing of the person she was now. She just couldn’t let that happen.
“Please, Cutter!” she kept moving along the kitchen counter as he continued toward her. Almost there! “I have children. I’m in the midst of a divorce. I can’t do this anymore!”
“Oh, you do it just fine! I’m surprised you kiss those little kiddies with that mouth of yours,” he mocked her.
“You heartless worm!” She felt her teeth grind together as her jaw clenched in a rage so tight it hurt. “I took you as a lover, and you used me like a cheap whore!”
“You enjoyed it! Don’t lie!”
I did! God forgive me, I did … until I came to my senses … but, by God, it all stops now!
She’d made it to the drawer where she kept the kitchen hand towels. Unbeknownst to Cutter, she’d placed her hand on the counter just above it with just the right amount of pressure to activate the automatic opener. A few seconds later, the drawer shot open right in front of her.
Cutter saw her hand moving, but by the time he realized what was going on, it was far too late. He sprang uncertainly toward her but came up abruptly when he found himself staring into the business end of a Colt .45 Automatic Pistol.
“Ho!” He stepped back, waving his hands high, making sure she knew he was conceding. “Let’s calm down and talk about this now. Ain’t no reason for anybody to get hurt!”
One of Lulah’s ancestors had stormed ashore at Omaha Beach and had lived to tell about it. After marching across Europe, he’d returned home to Kentucky to work the mines. What the Germans couldn’t do, the black lung did. But the old pistol came to be a treasured family heirloom, passed down from one generation to the next, with the oldest child of the oldest child inheriting it. It was as much a Carter family tradition as farming rocky slopes, making moonshine and digging coal. When Lulah’s father had died, the hallowed weapon had passed into her possession. One day, she would pass it on to Blake. But as of right now, the gun Private Carter had used to kill a lot of Nazis might be needed to kill one more villainous person.
“It’s time for you to go, Cutter,” Lulah’s voice was low and determined.
“Ok! Ok! Just calm down! I’m leaving! I promise! Just lower that cannon. You’re making me nervous. I don’t wanna get shot by accident.”
She thumbed the hammer back with the practiced ease of someone all too comfortable with a gun in their hand. “I assure you if you get shot … it won’t be an accident.”
“Y’know, I’m not gonna forget this.” His eyes turned reptilian. “You can’t walk around
