No Escape

“Don’t touch her,” groaned Dale.



“Just trying to make nice, son.”



“Stop calling me that.”



“Like hell I will. You’re my goddamn son, and you’ll show me respect.”



Dale felt shame and anger bubble up inside him. This was the ugly side of his life he never wanted Angela to see. When he was with Isabelle, he could pretend that he was a normal kid with a decent family, but now she’d know better. She’d never want him around again. The best thing he could do was get her out of harm’s way.



“Go inside, Angela.”



“I’m not going to leave you,” she said.



Wyatt leered at her. “Don’t send the pretty little thing away. I want to get to know her.”



Dale saw the lust in his dad’s eyes, and it made him sick. He tried to shield her more with his body and said, “Please, Angela. Just go. I’ll be fine. You won’t.”



He heard Angela’s feet pounding on the pavement across the emptying parking lot. He didn’t stop to see if she’d drawn attention by running. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of Wyatt.



“She’s a fine piece of ass, son.”



Dale’s fists bunched, and he longed to slam one into his dad’s face—a face that looked so much like his own he hated looking in the mirror.



“What do you want?” Dale demanded.



“You and I are going to take a little trip.”



“Like hell we are.”



Wyatt rolled his shoulders like he used to do before beating Mom, so he wouldn’t pull a muscle. “You’ve gotten uppity, son. We’re going to have to fix that, you and I.”



“The courts are never going to give me back to you. Why don’t you just give up and go fuck yourself?”



“Don’t push me, boy.”



“Why not? What are you going to do? Beat me up on school grounds like some kind of bully? There are cameras all over this parking lot.”



Wyatt’s eyes widened and he scanned the rooftop. “Get in the car, boy.”



“Fuck you.”



“Get in the car, or I’ll make a late-night visit to your pretty little friend. I ain’t making this trip alone. Would you rather she came with me?”



He’d do it, too. Dale was sure of it. That predatory light in Wyatt’s eyes when he looked at Angela was proof enough for him. He knew exactly what his father was capable of.



Dale swallowed hard. All he had to do was get back into the school and call the police.



He took a small step back so he could turn and run, but Wyatt was fast and grabbed the back of his jacket. Dale jerked to a halt. He flung the stack of books he carried at Wyatt’s head. One of them hit the mark.



Wyatt reeled back but hadn’t let go of Dale’s jacket, so he went right with him. Dale landed on top and tried to scramble away.



By now, kids all around them were staring, but none of them moved to help.



Dale had just made it to his feet when something hard slammed into the side of his head. Bright lights flashed in Dale’s eyes, and a consuming dizziness swept over him.



A second later, he was shoved headfirst into his dad’s car. Wyatt climbed in after him, pushing him hard into the passenger’s seat.



Instincts took over, and Dale scurried away from his dad, curling into as small a space as possible, protecting his head.



The car pulled out, jolting over the speed bumps as Wyatt raced from the lot.



Isabelle let the answering machine pick up the call that threatened to interrupt her bliss. She was too busy enjoying the feel of Grant’s mouth feathering light kisses over her stomach.



She felt like she was floating just above the bed, drowsy and content from the slow, lazy loving he’d given her after they finished their lunch.



He’d fed her slices of orange, and she’d licked the juice from his fingertips. That’s all it had taken to put that hungry look back on his face, a look that made her feel like the sexiest woman alive.



Sweat cooled on her body as Grant kissed his way up to her neck. She tried to stay awake and enjoy him enjoying her, but her eyes kept drifting closed.



“I think you nearly killed me,” she told him.



“Only nearly? Guess you’ve still got some life left in you, then.” His hand smoothed over her hip and up to cup her breast.



Isabelle gave him a weak smile. The man had loved her so good it made her head spin. “Too tired.”



“Later, then.” He kissed her mouth briefly and pulled the blankets up over her body. “You get some sleep. You’re going to need your rest for later tonight after Dale goes to bed.”



Oh, baby, that sounded good. Even as tired as she was, she couldn’t stop the little spike of longing that slid through. Just thinking about having him again made her body quiver.



“Can I have a drink before you go?”



“Sure, honey. Your tea’s all gone, but you can have some of my Coke.”



She tried to sit up, but her body was too weak.



Grant chuckled, and it was the sexiest sound ever. “I guess I really did wear you out. Here.”



He lifted her head enough that she could sip through the straw, but the cool liquid did little to ease her burning throat. Maybe it wasn’t just the heavy breathing that had dried her out. Maybe she was coming down with something. Heaven knew she was subjected to tons of germs at work with all the little munchkins running around.



Grant smoothed her hair back from her face. “You sleep. I’ll see who called and be downstairs if you need me.”



She opened her eyes for the thrill of watching him walk away, but everything was fuzzy and dim.



An uneasy sense of worry slid under her skin. This wasn’t right. None of what she was feeling was right. “Grant?”



“Yeah, honey?”



She tried to sit up and couldn’t. Her stomach rolled, and she thought she might throw up. Her head lolled to the side like an infant’s. “I think something’s wrong with me.”



“Isabelle?” Grant’s voice was panicked, and she heard dishes crash to the floor but couldn’t see anything.



He pressed a hand to her head, then lifted her eyelids one at a time. “Oh, God,” he breathed out. “Did you take something?” he demanded.



She tried to shake her head but couldn’t. “No.”



“Any medicine?”



“No.”



His voice was normal again. Eerily neutral. “Okay, honey. I want you to listen carefully. Can you do that?”



She made a sound that vaguely resembled an answer.



“I need you to stay awake.”



She couldn’t. She wanted to, but she was too tired, and that couldn’t be good. She knew that much.



Her body jerked, every muscle locking down hard. It hurt. She’d never known pain like that could even exist. It had to be killing her.



Tears of fright leaked from her eyes, and she heard Grant’s muffled curse.



She couldn’t die without him knowing how she felt. How much he meant to her.



Isabelle struggled through the pain to pull in enough breath to speak. “Love you,” she whispered. Then another convulsion hit, harder this time, and she wasn’t strong enough to keep it from dragging her down into the black.



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



Wyatt hadn’t said a word to Dale, and it was beginning to worry him. Whatever his dad had planned, Dale wasn’t going to like it. All he could do was keep his eyes open for the first chance he could get away.



Dale wasn’t going to be happy until Wyatt was back in prison where he belonged. Only then could he be sure Angela was safe.



“I’ve got us a place all picked out,” said Wyatt.



“Where?”



“Don’t worry about it. You’ll see when we get there.”



“How much farther is it?”



Wyatt’s hand shot out faster than Dale remembered and slapped the back of his head. Dale bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.



“You sound like some fucking kid. Grow up and shut up. We’ll be there when we’re there,” said Wyatt.



Dale refused to let his dickhead father intimidate him further. “Why did you even bother to bring me along?”



“You’re my son,” he said as if that explained everything. “You belong with me.”



“I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Why can’t you get that through your head?”



“That’s just that goody two-shoes you’ve been shacking up with talking.”



“First, I’m not ‘shacking up’ with her. She’s my foster mom. Second, what the hell is that supposed to mean? She has nothing to do with me choosing not to be a part of your life. I chose that all on my own.”



Wyatt grunted. “You even sound like her, all high and mighty. I can tell I’ve got my work cut out for me.”



Dale did not want to know what that meant. Whatever Wyatt had planned, it couldn’t be good. He needed to get the hell away from Wyatt while he still could.



The hard edges of Dale’s cell phone in his pants pocket pressed against his thigh, comforting him. He’d turned it off for school and hadn’t had a chance to turn it back on again, so at least it wouldn’t ring and give away the fact that he had a way to contact the police. All he needed now was a little privacy and the police would be hot on Wyatt’s tail.



Dale kept a close eye on the signs so he’d know where to tell the police to find them.



He wondered if Angela was okay and if she’d ever speak to him again after seeing how ugly his roots were. Maybe it was better if she didn’t. The thought made his stomach hurt, but he knew better than to fool himself into thinking it wouldn’t matter to her. It would. How could it not matter to her? She’d seen what an asshole his father was. She had to know that the apple never fell far from the tree. She was certain to move on to a better guy. That was the cold, hard truth, and there was no escaping it. Might as well suck it up and move on.



Story of his life.



Grant was normally really good at keeping a level head. It was one of the things that made him a kick-ass sniper. But this was not normal. Isabelle was sick, and he was pretty sure he knew why.



The tea. It was the only thing she’d had eaten or drunk that he hadn’t.



He’d seen a poisoning only once before, and it hadn’t been nearly as ugly as this was. That had been a quick, quiet death. There was nothing quiet about the way Isabelle was thrashing around, like she was having a seizure.



Grant scrambled to get his cell phone out of his discarded jeans and dialed 911. He didn’t even wait for the operator to finish his intro before he started talking. “My girlfriend’s been poisoned.”



“Poisoned? Do you know how?”



“She drank some tea. There must have been something in it.”



“I’m calling an ambulance for you now, sir. Please stay on the line.”



“What should I do? Should I make her throw up?”



“No, sir. That can cause more harm than good. The ambulance will be—”



Isabelle started seizing again, and Grant let the phone drop so he could keep her from hurting herself. He held her body tight against his and whispered into her ear, “You’re going to be fine, Isabelle. Help is on the way.”