Across the Creek Read online

  ACROSS THE CREEK

  Jeremy Asher

  ACROSS THE CREEK

  Jeremy Asher

  Copyright © 2012

  All Rights Reserved

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Layout provided by Everything Indie

  http://www.everything-indie.com

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Jesse

  Life only gives you one first kiss. Jesse Malone knew this would be one that he’d never forget. He placed his hand on Sarah’s warm cheek and closed his eyes. Nerves and fear knotted inside his stomach. He eased into her sweet soft lips. Electricity passed through him like a lightning rod, heated sparks firing through his body. The world around him disappeared, sending him to a place where only the kiss was real. The knotted nerves in his stomach turned to butterflies, carrying his heart into the weightless air.

  Jesse drew back. He waited until he felt the ground beneath his feet before opening his eyes, finding himself once again beneath the security of the willow tree. He looked into Sarah’s eyes, wondering what she had felt. A cool breeze splashed curly blond hair across her face. Clear blue eyes stared back at him, telling him all he needed to know.

  She brought her fingers to her lips. Their slight curve revealed an innocent smile.

  A storm in the distance announced its coming with a large crack of thunder and a heavy gust of wind, bringing them both back to reality. Sarah looked up at the sky. “Looks like I should be going now.”

  He reached for her hand. “Do you want to come over?” At the age of twelve, Jesse had had many friends over to his trailer before, but never a girl. And certainly not a girl from Whispering Meadows, the wealthiest addition in small-town New Haven.

  Sarah’s gaze turned toward Crooked Creek and the path which led to Jesse’s trailer, and then turned back toward the woods leading to her backyard and large white Victorian-style home. Her look was gentle and answered Jesse’s question before she did. “I can’t. My dad will probably be wondering where I’m at.”

  Jesse’s head dropped. More than anything, he wanted her to meet his mother, who would surely be finishing up her shift at the Laundromat. Until he had met Sarah this summer, she was the only other girl he had ever cared for.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his gaze back to hers. “How about tomorrow?” Her smile penetrated the hard protective shell around his heart. The one he had spent years building. A casualty of a hard life. One of fear and running.

  How could he say no? He brought her into a hug. “Deal,” he whispered into her ear.

  Jesse watched as Sarah made her way back home. Her blond curls bounced and blew in the wind. She paused, then turned and waved one last time before disappearing into the maze of trees. The cold breeze stung his cheeks, reminding him of the menacing storm just a few miles away. Grey clouds raced across the sky, like a movie sped into fast forward.

  He crossed the creek in just a few swift hops. The woods on the other side became crowded with trees, blotting out the last traces of the sun. He paused, took one last look at the willow tree where he had his first kiss, and smiled.

  When he reached his backyard, Jesse’s eyes focused on the beige trailer he had called home ever since they had fled Arizona and the monster. Large holes scattered across the aluminum skirt, which had become a portal for raccoons, mice, and other small creatures. Paint peeled from the few surviving weathered shutters. And the rusted screen door clung desperately from the last of its hinges.

  Shame weighed heavy on his shoulders. He had hoped that the tiny rectangular box would have magically transformed into a big beautiful house. A house like Sarah’s. Even at the age of twelve, Jesse knew the difference between those who had much and those who had little. What would Sarah think of his place? As much as he wanted to believe her goodness would have seen past the expired trailer, her ‘no’ had brought some semblance of relief. Would she still want to hang out with him when she knew how pathetically poor he was?

  He erased these thoughts from his mind like chalk from a chalkboard. He knew Sarah was different. She wouldn’t care what kind of place he lived in. He was sure of it.

  The backdoor would be locked, so Jesse headed for the front of the trailer. Up above, the clouds had transformed into angry billows, blotting the sun and casting a chilled shadow across Woodland Street. “This is going to be a bad one,” he said, looking at the ominous storm. Almost as soon as he said the words, a large bolt of lightning spread through the sky like cracking glass, followed by the roar of thunder. His walk turned to a fast jog as he tried to beat the inevitable downpour.

  “What the—”

  Around the trailer’s corner, in the driveway, sat the old blue truck. Fear froze Jesse’s legs, his arms, his entire body. This couldn’t be. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again. But like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from, the 1950s Ford stared back at him. Rust spots covered its sides like an infection eating holes into its body. Like the ulcers Jesse had when he was little and living in Arizona. He clutched his stomach, trying to hold back the pain he imagined into reality.

  “How did he find us?”

  The storm answered with a thunderous roar, releasing the first of the rain.

  Jesse took a few careful steps closer to the truck. The warm hood along with the ticks and pings coming from the engine told him that the monster had just arrived. Taking deep breaths, he started toward the door. Each step heavier than the last, like quicksand dropping him further into the earth. A tiny pit formed in his stomach, growing the closer he got.

  Trembling legs carried him to the rickety front porch. He placed a hand on the doorknob and looked up into the dark sky, closing his eyes and wishing for the rain to wash him away.

  A loud shrieking noise from inside the trailer startled him. The pit outgrew his stomach.

  He let go of the knob and placed a shaky hand against the trailer to balance himself as he leaned over to peek inside the front window. On the floor, with his back against the plastic covered couch, Robbie, his fourteen-year-old brother, sat holding the side of his face. Jesse squinted to get a better look. Tears
streaked down from Robbie’s eyes.

  Jesse pressed his face against the window. His eyes focused on a flash of something flesh tone. Light reflected off of the back of a bald head. The lump in his throat dropped to the bottom of his stomach when he saw the tattoo.

  A large black and red spider sitting on the back of the man’s neck, posed as if ready to attack. So his nightmare had come to life.

  Rex Malone—Jesse’s father.

  The monster from Arizona sat on the floor, knees bent. His fists jackhammered. Up. Down. Up. Down. Like a machine smashing concrete into tiny pieces. A skinny pair of legs stretched out from beneath the monster’s violent rage, jumping with each blow.

  Adrenaline replaced fear as Jesse’s muscles tightened. His heart pumped fiery blood through his veins. Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision. He knew the legs lying beneath his father belonged to his mother. His fists pounded and crushed her, breaking her into pieces just like he had done for years. He was a destroyer of everything that Jesse had loved.

  They’d run from town to town, settling briefly until their mother had made enough money to run again. But no matter how far they’d traveled, or how fast they’d run, Rex Malone would find them.

  They had to stop him.

  This was the moment. No more running. No more hiding. Jesse gathered his courage, placed his hand firmly on the doorknob and flung the door open, sending it crashing into the wall. “STOP IT!” The force of the vibration scratched the sides of his throat.

  Rex froze. His fist hung in the air, bloody. He turned. Slow. He smiled. “Is that you, Jesse?” His calm raspy voice caused the hairs on the back of Jesse’s neck to stand up.

  Jesse forced himself to take two steps inside.

  “There you are, you little shit. Where’s that little tart you’ve been hangin’ around with?”

  Sarah? How could he know about Sarah?

  He continued, as if reading Jesse’s mind. “That’s right, boy. I’ve been around for a while now. I’ve seen you with that pretty little thing.”

  Jesse didn’t respond. The emptiness in the fiend’s eyes was as dark as the storm outside. He didn’t want Sarah involved. Not in this.

  “A rich girl from Whispering Meadows?” Rex continued. “Rich and sweet.” His tongue slid across his lips like a dog. “That’s what I should’ve done.” He stood to face Jesse. “Married a sweet rich girl. Instead, I married this whore.” He kicked Jesse’s mom’s leg with the side of his boot. She didn’t move. Was he too late?

  Tension moved from Jesse’s jaw down to his fists. “You need to leave.”

  “Is that any way to speak to your father? Why don’t you bring that sweet little rich girl over here and introduce her to your mom and me?” Rex bent, and with no more effort than he would use to lift a lifeless doll, jerked his wife’s body into his arms. Next to his father, her petite figure looked even smaller. A lump formed in Jesse’s throat. Blood dripped down from her face and spattered in a crimson puddle on the floor. “What’s the matter? Are we not good enough? Are you ashamed of your parents?” Rex dropped her to the floor like a sack of sand.

  Jesse lunged forward to catch her—and stopped. This was exactly what the monster wanted him to do. He felt trapped, knowing he didn’t stand a chance in a hand-to-hand fight with his father, but also knowing that he couldn’t leave his mother or his brother either. His mother, who gave up everything and worked three jobs to make ends meet, needed him now more than ever. But what could he do?

  Panic set in and adrenaline fueled his arms. Robbie was hurt and his mom still wasn’t moving. Win or lose, Jesse had to face the monster. Had to do…something.

  “Look at you. You look just like your mother. You’re too skinny. Too sensitive. Hell, even your hair’s too pretty. Everybody always said how much you looked just like your whore of a mother.” Rex took a few steps closer.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw Robbie rising to his feet. Like Rex but in miniature, he stumbled forward, one hand on the side of his face, the other in his pocket.

  Rex took another step closer to Jesse and grabbed him by the arm. Jesse tried to pull away, but his arm couldn’t escape the bear trap grasp.

  Then Robbie unleashed a mighty roar. “Get away from him!”

  “You stay out of this, boy,” Rex said without taking his eyes off of Jesse. “I’m just having a chat with your little brother. Man-to-man,” he said. “He forgets how little he really is.”

  “Touch him and you’re dead.” Robbie pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing a knife.

  Rex released Jesse and turned to face Robbie. “Are you a tough guy now?” He smiled. Crow’s feet spidered from his eyes, spreading across his cheeks. Tequila emitting from his breath and pores made the ulcers in Jesse’s stomach scream with pain. “You must be tough. You’ve got that fancy blade. But you and I both know that you don’t have the stones to use it.”

  Robbie looked at Jesse and gave him a get-out-of-here look, but Jesse couldn’t move. “Don’t you worry about Jesse,” Rex snorted. “I’ll take care of him once I’m finished with you.”

  “You’re nothing but a drunk.” Robbie’s hand trembled as he raised the blade.

  Rex squared up to Robbie, leaving Jesse to his back. He towered over his eldest son, casting a long shadow over him. His potbelly, swollen from years of driving truck, hung over his belt and stuck out just beneath his blood-stained t-shirt. “You ready to find out if you’re man enough to handle me?” He raised hands as large as bear claws. “Let’s find out.”

  Jesse wanted to run, wanted to leave, wanted to go back to the willow tree with Sarah. Where it was nice, where it was safe. He didn’t want to see what would happen if the monster got a hold of Robbie, or worse, Robbie’s knife. It wouldn’t be good, not for any of them.

  A sledgehammer pounded in Jesse’s chest with each beat of his heart. Then the storm outside sent a cold breeze through the front door, chilling the tears resting on his cheeks. He wiped them off with the sleeve of his jacket and readied himself. The monster’s back was to him now. The spider on his neck stared at him, daring him to move. It was time. Time to stop running. Time to stop the monster.

  “You need to leave,” Jesse shouted. “Now!”

  “Now, Jesse, you don’t have to cry,” Rex said, still staring at the blade in Robbie’s hand. “This will all be over soon.”

  The monster smiled, raised his hands, and lunged.

  Chapter 1

  Sarah

  Ten years later

  The phone rang once, then a second time.

  “Don’t you dare answer it,” Kevin said, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

  Sarah’s hand froze on the phone. “What if it’s my father?” Her stomach wrenched into knots as she tilted the phone to read the caller ID, hoping today wasn’t the day she’d receive the call she’d been dreading for weeks now. But it was only Rachael’s name that lit the ID, and her insides uncoiled.

  “Not your father?”

  She shook her head. Rachael could wait. Right now she had a gorgeous man in need of her attention. “No,” she said, smiling. “Now where were we?” She slid a hand down Kevin’s chest, settling at one of the buttons that still needed undoing. She paused and absorbed the passion shooting from his chocolate brown eyes.

  Kevin leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck. His lips moved from her shoulder to her ear, sending goose bumps down her arms. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t answer the phone?”

  “Definitely,” she said, biting her bottom lip. She finished the last of his buttons and slid his collared Armani shirt off of his shoulders. Her fingers walked down his firm chest, making a path for her lips to follow. It had been a week since the last time she’d seen him. The thought of his strong and safe arms wrapped around her and his lips kissing the side of her neck sent her hands to the front of his pants. She felt his muscles tighten.

  Then, as if destined to ruin the moment, the phone rang again.

  She reach
ed for it.

  “Leave it.” He grabbed her hand and placed it back onto his chest. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  She leaned in, closed her eyes, and gently slid her tongue across his lips. “Are you sure about that?”

  He closed his eyes and let go of her hand. The phone rang again, this time flashing STANLEY RAMSEY on the caller ID.

  “I have to get it. It’s my father this time.”

  Kevin’s shoulders slumped. He let out a sigh and nodded. “To be continued. Tell your dad I said hi.”

  She nodded.

  Kevin flipped his shirt back onto his shoulders and dropped down on the sofa. He picked up the remote control and began flipping through channels. How could she have gotten so lucky? Gorgeous, intelligent, funny, and he wanted to be with her.

  She took a deep breath before hitting the TALK button. “Dad, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Of course I am.”

  “Are you sure? You sound winded.”

  “I’m sure. Just working on the fence.”

  She covered her other ear to block the sound of a police shootout blaring from the television. “Fence? Why are you working on your fence?”

  “Not my fence. Your fence.”

  She opened her fridge and removed a cold bottle of water. Oh dear, she thought. He’s losing it. “Dad, I don’t have a fence. I live on the second floor, remember? Downtown.”

  She heard a chuckle and then silence. “Dad?”

  “Sarah, I’m working on your fence at the nursery.”

  “There isn’t a fence at the nursery.”

  “I know. I’m building one.” A noise like wood landing on something solid sounded in the background.

  “Why? That wasn’t part of our plans.”

  “When I stopped out here yesterday I noticed some animals roaming the place. We’ve gotta keep ’em out.”

  She ran a hand through her hair. The plant nursery had been a constant headache ever since she decided to start her own business. First, all the trees had to be cleared; then there was the business of how to dispose of all that wood. After the clearing came the drainage issues. Nothing had seemed to go as planned. “Oh,” she said, opening her balcony door. Pedestrian sounds wafted up and muted the television’s blare. “You shouldn’t be out there lifting heavy stuff.”