The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [91]
“That man, your husband,” Sanchez said. “He tried to break you. If what he did did not do it, then no, you are not breakable by anything I could do.” He looked at her for a moment, then looked away.
"What?" she said.
He smiled. "It is nothing," he said. There was a brief silence between them before he spoke again. "I would like to see you again."
"Oscar," she said. "I--" she hesitated. "I'm not sure that--that would be a good idea."
He turned to her. "Why?"
The simplicity of the question stopped her in her tracks. He held her gaze, his brown eyes calm. Finally, she laughed softly.
"Okay," she said. "I can't really answer that, except to warn you, I'm not the easiest person in the world to deal with."
He shrugged. "It is a chance I will take."
She thought back to Keller's words. I've been going through my life so far taking stupid risks, he had said. This time, I'm taking a risk on something important.
"Okay," she said again. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Well, you can't say you haven't been warned." He turned and put his hand on hers.
“Well, ain’t this nice,” a voice said. The passenger door was yanked open. Raymond Oxendine was standing there, a pistol pointed at Sanchez. The other door was yanked open to reveal a dark-haired man. He held a stubby machine gun pointed at Angela. She looked around in panic as the man grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her out of her car. There was a Chevy Suburban parked behind her with another Hispanic man at the wheel.
“Get in,” Raymond said. “We’re goin’ for a drive.”
They lay together on the bed, with Marie’s head resting on Keller’s shoulder. It had taken over five hours to get the paperwork straightened out for the return of Keller’s vehicle. By the time they had gotten it back to Marie’s house, the post-adrenaline letdown followed by the mind-numbing boredom of dealing with the bureaucracy had left them both stupid with fatigue.
Keller had showered after Marie, and when he came out, she was curled into a ball on the bed, dressed in her robe, sound asleep. He found a bedspread in a nearby closet and pulled it over them both. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the back of her neck.
“Mmmh,” she murmured and squirmed back to fit her body more tightly against his.
“Where’s Ben?” he whispered. “Do you have to pick him up?”
“Unh-unh,” she muttered. “S’grandparents have him. They saw about what happened n’ called. He’s stayin' with’m.”
“Nice folks.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” she said, then relaxed back into slumber in his arms. They stayed like that for a long time, until fatigue overtook Keller as well and he slid into a deep and dreamless sleep.
When he woke, he was ravenously hungry. He kissed Marie lightly on the forehead and gently slid his arm out from under her head. She made a small murmur of protest, then clutched the pillow to her and rolled over. Keller tiptoed out of the bedroom as quietly as he could. He rummaged around in the kitchen until he found a box of Raisin Bran in the pantry. He was searching in the cabinet for a bowl when he heard Marie cry out. He dropped the cereal box and bolted to the bedroom.
Marie was sitting up in bed, the bedspread pulled up to her neck. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, blank with terror. Small whimpers escaped her throat. Keller leaped onto the bed and threw his arms around her. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Slowly, her eyes focused on him. “I had a bad dream,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said. “I have them, too. But it’s okay. I’m here.”
She reached out and ran a hand down his face. “Yeah.” she said, “you are.” He drew her to him and kissed her. His hands caressed her back outside the robe, then parted it and slid inside to caress her naked flesh. She moaned.
Keller’s cell phone chirred on the bedside table.
Marie broke the kiss and put her head on his shoulder. “You better get that,” she said.
Keller sighed and picked up the phone. This had better be damned important, he thought. “Hello?”
“Guess who