SIXTEEN
CLAIRE SHIFTED IN HER CHAIR at the only available table in the over packed coffee house. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting Ed Samson. She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to it. She’d gotten the impression he disliked her as much as she did him, but when he’d called about English Electrical bidding on one of his jobs, he’d been apologetic, asking if they could start over. She didn’t think there was any scenario where she’d be willing to work with him, but he’d been very polite and very insistent. It seemed easier just to say yes and get it over with. She’d been on her way to get her first Brazilian wax when her phone rang, so apparently it was a day for getting unpleasant things out of the way.
The wax hadn’t been that bad, or at least that’s how she was spinning it to herself. It hurt way too much while it was going on, but aside from fighting the urge to squirm in her seat a little, it didn’t hurt now. She couldn’t wait to see what Luke thought about it. It was a wedding present for him, but she had a feeling it would turn into a present for her too.
The salon Colin recommended had been amazing although that was one of the most awkward conversations she’d had in her life. She wasn’t about to go flipping through the yellow pages for something like that, and she knew Luke’s assistant had handled booking personal shoppers and stylists before. In the end, he was the only one she could think to ask, which was sad, really. Why didn’t she have any girlfriends to give her advice about this kind of stuff?
Because she worked all the time, as evidenced by the fact that she was meeting someone she detested to talk about a job the day before her wedding. Most brides would be closeted away with a group of bridesmaids, finishing all the last minute details.
“We’re going to change that,” she said, murmuring softly to the baby. She’d been doing it more often since she felt the baby move. It was a little like having a secret friend with her all the time, the nudges and pokes a tangible reminder that she wasn’t alone in her body. “Mommy needs some friends, and you’re going to need some aunties. Even Daddy has Eric. Don’t worry, sweet pea. I’ll work on it.”
She didn’t even have her mother to help her pick out her dress. She was used to spending her time mostly with men, but with the wedding and the baby, she could use some female company and advice. At least there really wasn’t anything else to do to get ready for the wedding. She was going to get through this thing with Samson as quick as she could, and then go back to her old place for the last time, to spend the night alone. Luke was picking her up in the morning so they could drive to Bald Head Island to get married. They were spending the honeymoon there, too. No amount of coercing could convince Luke to risk flying.
When she thought of it, spending their last night as single people apart seemed special. Neither of them wanted a big church wedding and they weren’t really doing any of the traditional things. Not seeing him the night before the wedding seemed like a nice nod to tradition, but she was starting to second guess herself. Staying in her empty apartment had lost a lot of its appeal.
She loved Luke, and they were both so busy; she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him. Now that she’d made the decision to marry him, it felt weird to choose not to be with him when she could. Maybe Samson would stand her up and she could go back home to Luke. She knew he wouldn’t complain. He hadn’t been crazy about her spending the night by herself in the first place.
Taking a sip of the decaf herbal tea she wished was a double shot cappuccino, Claire scanned the coffee shop to see if she’d missed seeing Samson walk in. There was no sign of him, but her gaze stopped on a familiar looking man standing at the bar that ran along the wall. She could have sworn she’d seen him on the street outside the salon when she’d arrived. Luke hadn’t said anything, but she wouldn’t put it past him to have someone shadowing her. It was an interesting combination of creepy and sweet, but it was hard to be angry with him when he wanted to keep her safe, especially in light of what Mike said about feeling helpless. Before she could decide if it was the same man or call Luke to ask, she heard the scrape of a chair and looked over to see Ed Samson slid into place across the table from her.
The normally sleazy contractor looked even worse for wear. He had on an overcoat, too heavy for the mild autumn temperature, and his eyes were blood shot and wild. Instinctively, Claire leaned back, but he caught her hand, holding her in place.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet me, Claire.”
“It’s my pleasure,” said Claire, the polite words she didn’t mean slipping automatically from her lips.
Samson gave her an unpleasant leer, still keeping her hand trapped in his vise-like grip. “I can assure you the pleasure will be all mine, you stupid, fucking bitch.”
Claire reared back, tugging at her hand, but she couldn’t pull free.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. His voice was so soft, no one else in the noisy coffee shop would hear him. “I have a gun under the table pointed at your stomach. If I pull the trigger, you may or may not die, but that bastard you’re carrying for Masters definitely will. Either way, it’s a win for me.”
Claire felt her body grow cold, and time seemed to slow down as her brain tried to make sense of the evil in his words.
“Why?” she asked when she was finally able to speak again.
“Because that dumb fuck has taken everything from me, and it’s all your fault. We had the perfect set up until you and Matthews came along and fucked it all up. So now I’m going to take everything from him.” As he spoke, his voice rose, and Claire had a moment’s hope that someone might hear what he was saying.
“It’s just one job,” she said. None of this made any sense. So he lost one job and blamed her, that didn’t account for this level of crazy.
“It’s not just one job. Masters shot his mouth off, and now I’ve lost work I’ve had lined up for months. Everything’s fallen apart. I owe money to people it’s not healthy to owe money to. I was barely holding them off as it was. My life’s not worth a fucking three dollar cup of coffee. I’m a walking dead man.
Samson voice rose as he spoke, but he hardly noticed. He didn’t seem to care what happened to him as long as he killed her or the baby. She bit back a sob. Even if one of the bystanders realized what was happening, he could shoot her before anyone had time to help.
“I don’t understand,” she said, trying to stall until she figured out what to do.
“You don’t have to understand. All you have to do is follow directions. Put your phone on the table. I don’t want anyone finding us before the fun’s over. And then you and I are going to walk out of here and go find a nice quite place where we can call Masters and let him beg for your life and the life of that bastard you’re carrying. I doubt it will work, but I can be a reasonable man.”
He laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and her stomach turned over. She ran through options in her head. She had no doubt that he’d shoot her if she struggled. He looked crazy and she had the feeling he didn’t think he had anything to lose. She could pretend to pass out or get sick, but those options seemed just as likely to end with her and the baby dead. It looked like the only chance she had was to go with him and pray that she could keep them both alive until Luke found her.
She looked for the man who’d been standing against the wall, praying that she’d been right and Luke had sent him. If she could catch his eye, maybe she could find a way to let him know she was in trouble. Or maybe he was just a guy with a familiar looking face. It didn’t matter; the crowds were too thick for her to see him anyway.
“Get out the fucking phone and set it on the god damn table, or I’ll shoot you right now,” he said, his voice full of malice and much too quiet for anyone else to hear. “I’d hate to miss out on hearing Masters beg, but I’m out of patience.”
Not seeing any other options that didn’t end with her and her baby dead quicker, Claire set her phone on the table.
“You can follow directions. Good. Now let’s go. I’ve got the gun in my pocket, and I would love an excuse to shoot you.”
Never letting go of her hand, he stood, pulling her to her feet with him. Once they were standing, he wrapped his arm around her, tucking her in against his side. Her fear combined with the stench of stale sweat and staler cigarettes coming from Samson made her stomach roil, and for a second, she thought she might actually be sick. The barrel of the gun jammed into the side of her belly had her swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat. She was not going to do anything to give him an excuse to pull the trigger.
