Landon (In Safe Hands Book 1) (13 page)

“You
called the cops?”

“A
friend of mine has connections in the police department. He owes me a favor. A
protective order will be active by morning.” For someone who has been
completely absent for two weeks, he sure is eager to help. “I have to go,” he
repeats. He drops a quick kiss on my lips, and rushes off, leaving me more
confused than ever.

Landon

What
a fucking night. I’ve done my best to avoid Zoe the past two weeks, ever since
we had to spend a day in a grimy motel room. I know I’ve hurt her, but better
this than dragging her into my complicated nocturnal life. I wasn’t going to
contact her again, but the second I saw her in the club, all those noble
thoughts were squashed flat. I want her. Hell, I need her. I don’t understand
how it happened, but she slid into my life under my radar and filled a space I
didn’t realize was hollow.

I
was only going to stick around the hospital until I knew her brother and his
boyfriend were okay, until I overheard their conversation. It’s not an uncommon
story, unfortunately, a parent basically renting or loaning out their kid for
some kind of profit, but it’s the one that pisses me off the most. Parents are
supposed to protect their children from the monsters, not feed them to one.

After
getting the abuser’s name, I put in a call to an old friend. Mason Reed runs a
domestic violence shelter for women and children, and he isn’t afraid to cross
a few lines. He has cops, judges, and lawyers working with his organization, so
I know he can find a way to protect this kid until ISH can take care of the
offender.

Mason
doesn’t disappoint. A few minutes after we hang up, two uniformed officers
arrive to talk to Colin. Zoe has already informed social services, so between
the two of us, the kid should be okay for the night. I need to get to Dare’s
apartment if we’re going to make sure this guy never hurts another child.

I
can see the confusion and hurt in Zoe’s eyes as I kiss her goodbye, and it
grates at my heart. As soon as I’ve taken care of this pervert, I’ll be back
for my girl. I can’t let her go, I know that now. I’ll make her life as normal
as I possibly can, try to keep my disability from stealing her daylight, but I
have to have her with me.

I
rode with Zoe, so I have to grab a cab back to the club to get my car. I make
it from there to Dare’s place in record time, and I’m happy to see Justus is
already there.

Dare
looks up from his laptop. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a face like a smacked ass.”

“Arlen
George. Tibbs Street. I need everything you can get on him,” I tell Justus, who
jumps on a computer. “He’s been raping his stepson—a friend of Zoe’s
brother—for years. Kid’s in the hospital because he tried to off himself.
Mother knows, but allows it.”

“Christ.”
Dare shakes his head.

“I
brought in Mason Reed’s organization to handle his protection until we resolve
this, but if he doesn’t tell the doctor and social service worker what he told
Zoe, I don’t know how long he can be kept from his mother.”

“You
know it’s hard for a boy to admit, especially at that age,” Dare warns.

“I
know. I want to know if Arlen George has been convicted before, whether we
should hand it to the cops or deal with him ourselves.”

“If
the cops have already been notified, we may not have a choice.”

“There’s
always a way,” Justus argues. “Fuck, Landon, this guy has a record a mile long.
He did two years in a juvenile facility for molesting a five year old boy when
he was fifteen. Another five years in Pendleton for raping a twelve year old
boy. Nothing but drunk driving and public intox the past ten years. Of course,
that doesn’t mean he stopped abusing kids.”

“No,
he had a stepson right under his roof, better access and less chance of getting
caught,” I reply. “I shouldn’t have involved the police at all. This guy
should’ve been pig food.” I turn to Justus. “You said there’s always a way.
Tell me what to do.”

“Right
now we need to see if he’s going to be arrested.” There’s a knock on the door,
and Mason Reed walks in. Mason is a big guy, and a former MMA champion. He’s a
good guy to have on our side.

“Officer
Roberts picked up Arlen George, but they won’t be able to hold him for long.
His wife has already paid his bail,” Mason informs us.

“That
bitch should be charged too,” Dare growls.

“Do
you know when he’ll be released?” Justus asks. “Can you get your buddy in the
force to hold him until late? Say, around three a.m.?”

Mason
studies Justus for a moment, never breaking eye contact. “Do I want to know
what you’re planning?”

“Trust
me, you’re going to want plausible deniability on this one.”

* * * *

Mason’s
guy comes through for us and agrees to release Arlen at three o’clock in the
morning. Mason’s brother, Alex, is standing guard outside Colin’s hospital room
for the night, and Dare is camped out outside Colin and his mother’s house,
waiting to see if she’ll try to pick up her rapist husband. It’s not much of a
concern since Dare has pulled the fuse for her fuel pump. She won’t be going
anywhere.

Mason
has assured us there are no cameras on the Sixteenth Street Bridge. It’s a damn
good thing since Arlen George has less than an hour before he’ll be flying over
the guardrail. We can’t just make him disappear, but if the man decides to kill
himself on the walk home? It won’t exactly be a tragedy.

Traffic
is non-existent in that area in the middle of the night. It’s a bad
neighborhood and no one in their right mind would be hanging around on the
bridge after dark. It’s also a common place for jumpers and junkies. They’re
always fishing bodies out of this part of the river. One recently arrested
pedophile won’t raise any suspicions.

I’ve
never actually killed anyone, or even been a part of a person’s death. I’ve
only been brought in after to help dispose of the body. A small part of me is
worried I won’t be able to go through with it. I just need to keep that kid’s
face in my thoughts, remember the damage this pervert has done. I’m not killing
a man, I’m killing a monster.

Jeremy
waits down the street from the county jail and just after three, sends us the
message we’ve been waiting on.

-On
his way. North side of street.-

Without
his wife to pick him up, he’s walking home, just like we hoped. He’ll walk
right across the bridge, where we’re waiting for him.

It’s
chilly out, but I’m sweating like I’ve run a marathon and I can feel every beat
of my heart. Adrenalin floods through me when I see him approaching. He’s
walking with his head down, arms tucked around his middle for warmth, and he
doesn’t even register our presence until he’s a few feet away. He nods and
continues with barely a glance in our direction.

Justus
wastes no time. “What the fuck!” Arlen shouts as Justus grabs him and drags him
to the guardrail. The guy is skinny as a meth head. He has no chance against
either of us.

“As
much as I’d love to think of you getting ass fucked in prison, I’d rather save
the taxpayers the cost. A baby rapist like you doesn’t deserve a trial,” Justus
spits, his face contorted in anger. Normally, Justus is the most laid back guy
you could meet, but when it comes to pedophiles and rapists, he has no mercy.
“Grab his legs.”

I
comply, grabbing his legs and helping Justus get him on the far side of the
rail. Arlen’s body is stiff as a board as he tries frantically to get back on
the road. “No! I never touched that lying little brat! He wanted it!”

Any
apprehension I may have felt dissolves at his words. Justus chuckles and
goosebumps race up my arms at the bitterness in his laugh. “Well, I want this.”
Justus nods at me and as soon as he manages to peel Arlen’s fingers from the
rail, breaking at least one from the sharp snapping sound, I shove him between
the shoulder blades.

He
goes over easily. The sound of his head cracking against the rocks before his
body tumbles into the river will haunt me the rest of my life. For a second,
I’m afraid I’ll puke, but the feeling passes as Justus grabs my arm and pulls
me away. “Just walk like nothing happened.”

Sitting
in my hotel room an hour later, it feels like it didn’t really happen. Like I
was watching it from a distance or on a movie screen. I killed a man. I should
care. I should feel bad, but every time that asshole’s last words come back to
me, I only feel relief. He’ll never hurt anyone again.

It’s
just past dawn when I shower and climb into bed. I’m afraid the dead man will
haunt my dreams, but instead I dream of Zoe’s big brown eyes. Fuck, I miss her,
but I have to know I’m going to get away with last night before I get in touch
with her. Before I tell her I’m in love with her. I can’t drag her into this.

It’s
late afternoon when I wake and after a visit to the gym and a quick swim in the
hotel pool, it’s dark enough to venture out. Most people love summer, but fall
has always been my favorite. It gets dark earlier and earlier, but the bitter
cold hasn’t set in yet. A cool breeze ruffles my hair as I approach my house to
check how the repairs are coming along.

I’ve
never been very concerned with having money and when I inherited my uncle’s
massive estate, I took it with a grain of salt. No amount of money will really change
my life. You can’t buy a cure for XP. It seems money is good for some things,
though.

The
construction crew has been hard at work the past few weeks, and my house looks
like a house again. They are still finishing the drywall in the kitchen, and
it’ll need painted, but all in all, the repairs have gone well. I’ve also taken
the opportunity to start a remodel on my office, knocking down a wall to make a
larger workspace for ISH. We can’t keep using Dare’s apartment. The workmen
with the UV proof windows are coming tomorrow. I should’ve had it done before,
but I’m used to just keeping the curtains closed. It wasn’t until I barked at
Zoe for opening them, that I realized most people need to see the sunlight.

I
guess I should be looking for a new house since I really don’t want to live at
ISH headquarters, but I’m just not in the mood to house hunt. All I can think
about is Zoe. How am I going to manage a relationship with her and still hide
the darker side of ISH? It’s bad enough she has to overlook my sunlight issue,
knowing I’m a criminal on top of that may send her running. And I can’t wait
long. She’s beautiful, caring, and smart. It won’t take long for some other
asshole to steal her away.

As
if she can feel me thinking about her, Zoe calls my phone. My finger hovers
over the accept button, but my indecision doesn’t last long. I need to hear her
voice. “Hello?”

“Landon…I…we
need to talk. Are you at your hotel?”

Shit.
There’s no way she’s figured it out already. Whatever she has to say can’t be
good. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m
fine. I just don’t want to have this conversation over the phone.” She sounds
tired. She was probably up all night consoling Ethan.

“I’m
at my house. Do you want to come here, or should I stop by?”

“No,
I’ll come to you. Be there in a few minutes.”

“See
you then.” Damn. My anxiety shoots through the roof. What does she want to talk
about? The way I cut off all communication with her? How I got cops to the
hospital so quickly? I have no idea what to tell her on either subject.

As
soon as we hang up, my phone rings again. This time it’s Justus. “Hey, Albino.
Did you see the five o’clock news?”

“Fuck
off, stripper. Albinos can go in the sun. And no, I haven’t been near a T.V.
What’s going on?”

“Cops
found a body under the bridge. They’re calling it a suicide.” Relief floods
through me. At least I won’t have cops at my door.

“Happens
all the time,” I reply. There’s very little chance anyone has tapped into our
conversation, but it’s better to be safe.

“Yep.
Listen, Dare’s getting the guys together for poker later. You in?” There’s
nothing surreptitious in this question. We get together for a poker game about
once a month.

“I’ll
be there.”

A
bright red sedan rolls up my driveway and it takes a second for me to realize
it’s Zoe. My eyes are glued to her as she approaches me, her hair blowing
around her face. With a cute little frown, she slides a band from her wrist and
hastily pulls her hair into a ponytail. I want to grab her and kiss her until
she begs for air, but I’m sure she won’t appreciate it after my recent
behavior.

I
settle for giving her a quick hug. “Did you get a new car?”

“Yes,
did you kill Arlen George?”

It
takes a moment for her words to sink in. “I, why would you ask me that?”

Her
arms fold across her chest. “Because I’m not stupid. You work for an
organization that deals with predators, you were pissed when you found out what
happened to Colin, and you called someone to arrange his security. Then you
disappeared. Today, they found his body in the river. I want to know the truth.
Did you have anything to do with it?”

This
is the first time in my life I truly don’t know what to say. I know any future
I could have with this woman rests on my response, and I doubt lying to her is
the right answer, but I’m handing her the power to send me to prison if I come
clean.