Breaking Barriers (Love Is Book 8) Page 5

  It probably had been for the best. Being around him put a strain on her. Why did she take such an extreme measure for Freddie? Guilt for the way she’d misjudged him lay heavy in her soul. She wanted to rid herself of it. Would the football ticket do it? Was it safe to purchase it from her dad? He was her father. He wasn’t the person who’d attacked her, was he?

  Ann froze as she stared at the phone nearly covered by a pink dress and a pair of brown shorts on the counter. Her father’s wrath could spew out of it any moment. It couldn’t have made her more nervous if it had been a spider.

  “For the love of all the fish in the sea, what do you want? I don’t have all day.” The angry baritone voice jarred Ann’s tongue loose.

  “Uh, if you’re not going to use all of your UGA football tickets, I’d like to buy one.” He wouldn’t leave the boat to go to a game. Why he kept purchasing season tickets every year was beyond her, but there were lots of things about him she didn’t understand. Maybe he gave them to some of the clients who bought his fish.

  “I reckon I could do that. When do you want to pick it up? Err-ah, I tell you what. I’m going fishing later today. You remember Billie Jo at The Wharf restaurant? She works behind the bar.”

  “Oh sure.”

  “Good. I’ll leave the ticket with her, and you leave me a check for eighty-five dollars.”

  His words squeezed Ann’s heart. That was twice the face value of the ticket. But that’s what she should have expected from Dad. His way of getting back at her because she wasn’t running the fish market. She tried to sound grateful and pleasant, keep the peace. After all, she initiated contact, and it wasn’t to start an argument. “Sure, I appreciate it, Dad. And, good luck with your catch.”

  “You bet. I gave you a good price, but there’s something else you can do for me.”

  A sinking sensation fell over her. “What?”

  “I want you to meet my new girlfriend, Eunice. How about Friday night, dinner at your condo? Say about seven o’clock.”

  If the phone had been a bomb, it would have just exploded. Ann doubled over as if she’d been hit in the stomach. Being around him made her nerves stand on end, and to think about him bringing a date. She turned nauseous. “Okay, Dad. See you then.”

  Ann made her way to the chaise lounge and sat down. How many girlfriends had he had? Her heart broke in a million pieces. Had he ever loved Mom? How much did he hate Ann?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Shades of twilight fell as Ann folded t-shirts at the table in the middle of the floor in Beach Lady. Silence engulfed her all of a sudden after shoppers left, taking their loud chatter outside.

  Freddie clicked off the lights in Beach Guy.

  “Goodnight,” she called out.

  “See you tomorrow.” The door slammed behind Freddie, and Ann remembered those awful footfalls catching up with her the evening she left alone after the stores in the strip center closed. She kept her eyes on the bistro and the shops across the way and straightened clothes as fast as she could make her hands go.

  Harold couldn’t find the place a mess when he came in later tonight. She hung two black dresses on the rack at the wall. The bistro went dark. She snatched her purse from under the counter, switched off the lights, turned the lock on the door, and rushed out. A warm breeze caressed her cheeks while she stepped as quickly as she could without running to her car. She took a sigh of relief no one had followed her as she slipped into the driver’s side and started the engine.

  Within ten minutes she drove to the lot in front of The Wharf. Cars jammed into every single space plus the grassy patches at the ends of the rows. She pulled in next door and parked near the harbor, the only light splaying from The Wharf and the boardwalk.

  She cut the engine, hopped out of the car, and headed toward the restaurant. Only the stars and an occasional passing vehicle lit the way. Pebbles crunched behind her. She quickened her steps. Shoes popping on the rocks grew louder. Why hadn’t she used the lighted boardwalk? She was too tired to think.

  Was someone panting at her back? Her heart raced. She ran, stumbling, flailing her arms. Where was the highway? Scrapes across the gravel grew louder. She surged forward and sped up, sweating, breathing hard. “Help, help, help, help,” she yelled so loud her throat hurt. A vehicle rode down the highway, the glow from its headlights washing over the darkness.

  She charged toward the road. “Help, help, help.” Faster. She had to run faster. At last she bounded onto the street, radiance from lighting at The Wharf shining on her path. The thumping subsided. She glanced over her shoulder. Where was he? She rounded the corner and mingled with people coming and going. Taking deep breaths, she reached the entrance of the wooden, white building.

  “Hi, welcome to The Wharf,” the hostess behind the rustic wooden desk greeted her. “Would you like to sit inside or out?”

  The question seemed to come from afar. She couldn’t eat if she’d been starving. Had someone chased her and come in here? She scanned the restaurant, but how would she know? He was only loud, fast footfalls. “No, thank you. I’d like to see Billie Jo.” The answer had popped out of her mouth by rote and drifted into the cloud of fear hovering around her.

  “Oh sure, go ahead.” The hostess waved her hand toward the bar, elevated one-step up from the dining area.

  Ann plodded through the mass of customers, the thick veil of terror moving with her. Just get the football ticket and go home.

  Apparently, Billie Jo spotted her. She waved big. “Over here, love.” A woman in her forties, Billie Jo had served as a go-between for Ann and her dad’s messages ever since Ann’s mom died. Ann suspected she was good to all of the boat captains and their crews. She probably only knew her father as one of the fisherman who brought in his catches, sat around the bar eating red snapper or cobia, joked, and left good tips.

  Ann doubted she’d seen the angry glare in his eyes that rumbled from the depths of hatred. Ann knew it well, even though she didn’t understand it. It always had erupted into a beating for her, Beau, or Mom. But Mom was gone now, and she and Beau had survived. No need to spoil Billie Jo’s impression of him. He had his life and friends. She had hers.

  “Hey, love, Dimm left this for you.” She reached under the bar and handed Ann a small packet.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. If it’s all right, I need to leave something for him.”

  “Sure. Give it here. I’ll see he gets it.”

  Ann pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to Billie Jo. “Thanks so much, you’re a good friend.”

  “You’re welcome.” Billie Jo’s lips parted into a toothy grin. Then she turned around and yanked on the handle of the soda dispenser.

  Ann took a step toward the entrance and shook inside. She looked around. She knew no one but Billie Jo.

  Billie Jo glanced at her as she handed a customer a soda. “Did you need something else, love?”

  “I, uh...”

  “What’s wrong?” Billie Jo leaned across the counter.

  “I’m in the fishermen’s lot, and I thought someone chased me on the way over here.”

  Billie Jo’s brown eyes widened.

  “I could be mistaken...”

  “Love, it’s dark over there. I believe you need an escort. Just a sec.” Billie Jo waved at the lanky, dark-haired guy tending bar at the other end.

  He darted over. “Yeah?”

  “Can you handle this for about ten minutes, or could you walk Ann to her car? She’s in the fisherman’s lot.”

  He flexed his bicep. “I’m a great protector of damsels. I’ll accompany the lovely lady.”

  Billie Jo grinned and motioned toward him. “Walt will take good care of you.” She winked at him, and he came around the bar to join Ann.

  “Let’s go this way.” He guided Ann out of the restaurant toward the lighted boardwalk. They passed by fishermen, tourists, young couples, and groups returning from dinner cruises.

  “If I’d used this route to start with, I probab
ly wouldn’t be concerned now.”

  “You’re not in the wrong here. You shouldn’t need to worry about walking in a lot that’s almost completely dark, but sometimes folks up to no good lurk in such places. You’re wise to have an escort.” Walt marched through the small unlit area to Ann’s car.

  She clicked the door open and slipped into the driver’s seat. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, I’m glad to help. Anything to avoid work.” Walt chuckled.

  Ann started the engine with Walt looking on until she backed out. Suddenly it dawned on her, and an ice-cold chill ran up her spine. No one knew she was coming here except her father.

  Tears blurred her eyes, the fifteen-minute ride to her unit taking an eternity it seemed. She parked, slid out, and plodded inside with her stomach tied in knots. She’d pushed the past abuse to the back of her mind. If she hadn’t bought the ticket for Freddie, she never would’ve known. Her own father still wanted to hurt her.

  She hurried upstairs to the bathroom and threw up. Her knees nearly buckled under as she made her way to bed. She fell on top of the blue and rose comforter and sobbed until she fell asleep.

  Out the small window she only could see the swell of the huge wave from where she lay tied to a bunk bed on a fishing boat.

  The surge subsided.

  “You’re not good for anything except cleaning up fish mess.” Dimm’s harsh voice rumbled over her.

  She put her hands over her head as the sting of the belt coursed over her legs, lashing her ankles.

  She screamed, begged him to stop.

  A wave rocked the boat, giving her a momentary reprieve. Then it subsided and the beating started again. Ann cried and prayed for God to untie her.

  Her own blood-curdling scream woke her from the unplanned evening nap, tears running down her cheeks. That dream—the same one she’d had off and on her entire life. Dad never had tied her to a bed on his boat, but he was a fisherman, and he’d hit her. The incidents were mixed up in her mind just like love. Did fathers beat children they loved? Did husbands strike wives they cared for?

  The phone rang and she jumped. “Hello.”

  “Hi. Are you all right? Have you been crying?”

  James’s voice soothed her, and she stopped sniffling. He was so calm, so kind. He had nothing in common with her father, except they were both men. It dawned on her. Men and love weren’t angry. Her father was angry. James didn’t need to know her own dad had chased her, wanted to harm her. It was more than she could fathom, let alone someone who’d never met her father and didn’t know her history with him.

  “I was asleep. I just woke up. I’m still a little groggy, but I’m glad you called. You’ll be happy to know I had a chat with Freddie, and I believe we’re going to be friends. He’s a big football fan, especially of his alma mater’s team. After I learned this, I purchased him a ticket to a University of Georgia game from my...” she couldn’t even say the word without choking “...my father. The only thing is, now I have to serve my father and his new girlfriend dinner. He can be a little difficult.”

  “Since I pushed you into this by suggesting you become better acquainted with Freddie, it’s only fair that I help out. I’ll attend too and bring a dish.”

  Ann slid under the covers. Would James notice how much her father hated her? If her own father didn’t like her, how could anyone else? She shivered. What about a father who despised his daughter so much he tried to attack her? Nausea swam in her stomach. “Oh no, that’s not necessary.”

  “Of course, it is. I put you in this spot. It’s only right that I share. When are they coming?” James’s tone told her it was already decided.

  “Friday night at seven o’clock.”

  * * *

  The Worm sat in the wooden straight-back chair at the small rickety table. Every time he entered this secret room the musty smell nearly choked him. He should tell Randolph the place stunk and insist he meet with him in the restaurant. It wouldn’t do any good. He swallowed his anxiety. “Look, Randolph, this is not as easy as you make it sound.” He gestured with his hand. “You think I can just creep up behind her and wham. That’s it.” The Worm pitched his voice high to mimic Randolph when he said, just go up and knock her off. “Well, it don’t work like that.”

  Randolph leaned across the table. “I know. Of course, you must try not to get caught, but if you do...”

  “I ain’t. That’s what I’m telling you. No one’s seen me, and I’m keeping it that way no matter how long this takes.”

  Randolph rubbed his long, thin hands together. Smooth, they looked like they’d never seen a good day’s work. “Okay, okay, but you have to do it soon. Those in charge of the movement are pressuring me. Enlightened Fairness for All hired a guy to keep up with True Light Guardians and he reported the organization has spread to fourteen states.”

  “Are they advertising?”

  Furrows formed on Randolph’s brow. “Absolutely not. They’re very discreet, secret. Only certain Christians know about the organization. Our man’s just good. That’s why we’re paying him well, just like we will you once you’ve done your job. Ann Jones’s little band of believers has no idea we exist. No idea of the plans we have for her and True Light Guardians. That’s how we’ll catch them off guard and defeat them.” He banged his hand on the table, and it wobbled. “But the pesky bunch is moving like locusts. We have to stop them now.”

  “I followed her and set it up real good.”

  Randolph glared at The Worm. “The only thing I want to hear is you did it. She’s dead.”

  The Worm chewed his bottom lip to keep his mouth shut.

  “I can’t tell you how to make a hit. That’s not what I do, but you’re supposed to be good at it.” He emphasized the word “supposed,” sat back in his seat, and sighed. “All right, go ahead. Tell me what happened. Maybe something will click in that thick head of yours, and it’ll help on your next try.”

  The Worm needed Randolph to know how hard he’d worked and all the possibilities he had for offing Ann. He scooted up his chair. “I put a fish by the entrance to the shop where she works to rattle her a little at first. I know the hours she keeps. One night I picked the lock to the door. It was easy.” The Worm purposefully left out the part about the money he took out of the safe. It was pocket change, but he considered it a fringe benefit Randolph didn’t need to know about. “I could do her there. Sometimes she’s in the store alone. It’s a matter of catching her late when everyone else has left the strip center. I’m watching. As soon as the time’s right, I’ll grab her.”

  The Worm put his elbows on the table and stuck out his neck as far as it would go. His eyes met Randolph’s. “But, that’s not the only opportunity. She lives in an end apartment by the sea. Once I figure out the best way to enter and time the security guard’s schedule for a week or so, bingo.” The Worm puffed out his chest.

  “But tonight was priceless. She left Beach Lady in a crowd of people. I stuck to her like plastic wrap. She pulled her car in that dark lot next to The Wharf where the fishermen park. If only I coulda known she’d go there, I coulda waited for her and done it on the spot.” The Worm slapped his cheek.

  “It was perfect, but by the time I found a place for my truck, she had a good start on me. I scrambled out, but she stepped out of the light washing over from the boardwalk and restaurant. I could barely see her in the distance. It was dark except for the moon, stars, and vehicles passing on Highway 98. I glimpsed her when she stepped into the glow from a passing car’s headlights and caught up to her. She musta heard me. She picked up her pace. She’s pretty quick. I extended my arm and almost grabbed her. I huffed and puffed, running as fast as I could, trying to gain those extra few inches. She musta sensed my presence. She took off racing like a crazy woman. I could’ve snagged her if I’d had another ten feet to close in on her.”

  Randolph rubbed his chin. “I see what you’re saying. Yeah, she ran track at Florida College. Got some medals for it.” He sighed as thou
gh he accepted the failure. “At least no one’s seen you. Get it done.”

  The Worm’s chair scraped across the floor and he stood. He couldn’t leave fast enough. Five hundred thousand when he did it, and what? A death sentence if he didn’t.

  * * *

  The events of Wednesday lay heavy on Ann’s heart as she entered Beach Lady the next morning, the bell tinkling. A pine scent leftover from the night cleaning crew wafted through the room. She strolled past the neatly-arranged tables of bright pink, yellow, and green t-shirts and turned on the air conditioner. Then she opened the safe. Everything seemed in order. In spite of all that had happened, she couldn’t wait to give Freddie his ticket. That would be the one bright spot in her day. She glanced at her watch as the door to Beach Guy opened.

  “Hey, I have something for you.” She practically sang the words.

  Freddie charged through the cut-out, his head tilted. “For me?”

  “Yes, you.” Ann handed him the envelope.

  One side of Freddie’s mouth turned down. “What is it?” He spoke out the side of it.

  “Open it.”

  Freddie slipped a chubby finger under the envelope flap, popped it open, and slid out the gift. His lips parted, and his eyes widened. “You got me a ticket to a UGA football game.” He charged over and flung his arms around her in a bear hug. Then he rubbed his hand over the ticket. “I can’t believe it. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Freddie’s voice rose. “My mom says I’m fortunate to work with a Christian.” Freddie slapped his hand over his mouth, fear dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

  Ann gasped. “You’re a Christian?”

  “Yes. I’ve shared some of the things happening at the store with my mom. She claims you’ll do the right thing because you’re a...you know.”

  “How does she know?”

  “Just from what I’ve told her. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, but now that I’ve gotten to know you, you’re kind and explain it all to me.”

  Ann turned worm-sized inside.