Switch Blade Romance

No Reason.

And the sky was all violet.

March 6, 2015
Sneedsville, Tennessee

10:50 a.m.

Juanita Anthony lowered herself into the stiff-backed chair in the hotel room, the kind meant more for looking than sitting. The carpet smelled faintly of old smoke and lemon cleaner. Outside the window, the sky had taken on a strange violet cast, like a bruise spreading across the morning.
“Good Lord, Andrew,” she said at last. “Do you really think this plan’s going to work?”
Andrew Grant sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone ashy  pale. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice was steady, but only just. “But we’re going to try it and see. Either way—” He looked up then, eyes bright with something hard and unbreakable. “As long as my mom, Olivia, Rachel, and Lacey survive, that’s all that matters.”
“Well, you matter too,” John Henry said from near the door. “You can’t just throw yourself at that freak so everyone else can run.”
“I’m not planning to,” Andrew said. “But I’m also not letting anyone else die because I chose a psychotic bastard for a boyfriend. We keep going around in circles with this, but there isn’t another way.” His voice dropped. “Charles Grady has my people. He’ll kill them if I don’t come to him tonight at eight. And if he gets away with that, he’ll go for my dad. Akelia and her family. Deshaun. Anita and her baby. You guys.” A thin, humorless smile crossed his face. “And me last. He’ll save me for last. He likes to take his time.”
No one spoke.
“So no,” Andrew went on. “This is the plan. And it’s going to work—because I’m going to make it work. Let’s go. Let’s get this started.”
Manitachie Falls, Arkansas
12:00 p.m.
The cellar door groaned open, spilling a slice of gray light down the concrete steps. Chains rattled softly as the captive women lifted their heads.
Charles Grady came down the stairs smiling.
“Well now,” he said pleasantly, like a host checking on dinner guests. “How y’all doing, ladies? Everyone comfortable?”
Helen Grant rolled her eyes, disgust carved deep into her face. “You sick fuck,” she said. “Let my daughter and these girls go. Just keep me. And leave my son alone—he’s been through enough because of you.”
Charles laughed, the sound bouncing off the cellar walls. “See now, Mom—”
“I’m not your fucking mom,” Helen snapped.
“Well,” Charles went on, ignoring her, “I just can’t do that. Your son owes me. I’ve invested too much in him to just walk away. There’s something about Andrew—something special. Makes me think he’s the one.”
“He’ll never be yours,” Helen said. “You’re going to die screaming, and I’ll be there to watch it.”
Charles crossed the space in two quick steps and kicked her hard in the side.
Helen screamed.
Olivia screamed too.
“Stop it!” Olivia cried. “Leave my mother alone, you monster—just stop!”
Charles turned toward her, eyes narrowing, and started forward. Before he could reach her, Rachel Edison spoke up, her voice shaking but clear.
“Grady—stop. Look, if you wanted us dead, we’d already be dead. You would’ve done it by now. So just… stop. Please. Don’t hurt anyone else in this room.”
Charles studied her for a long moment. Then he smiled again. “Well, I guess you’re right, Ms. Edison. I did promise Andrew you’d all live. And I’m a man of my word.”
He turned and climbed back up the stairs. At the top, he paused and looked down at them.
“Andrew’ll be here in about eight hours or so. Until then, you all just sit tight and keep yourselves occupied. Ta-ta, ladies.”
The door slammed shut. Darkness rushed back in.
“What do we do?” Lacey whispered.
Rachel flexed her left hand. The cuff slipped free.
“We give this fucker the fight of his life,” she said.
“Oh my God,” Lacey breathed. “Rachel—how did you do that?”
“Little trick they taught us at the academy,” Rachel said, already working on the shackle on her right wrist.
Sneadville, Tennessee
Hardware Store – 3:30 p.m.
Allen and Andrew stood beneath flickering fluorescent lights, the smell of oil and metal thick in the air.
“So this is what you want?” Allen asked, eyeing the items in Andrew’s cart.
“Yeah,” Andrew said. “It’s perfect. Along with that other thing. He won’t know what hit him.”
“I still think we should call the FBI,” Allen said. “Or the National Guard. Hell, somebody with tanks. But if you’re sure… I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks,” Andrew said, offering a thin smile. “You know, when all this is over, I’d like us to go to that bar. Have a drink like we talked about. Pretend we just met. Two normal guys.”
“I’d like that too,” Allen said. “Though I know—you don’t even like beer.”
Andrew laughed, a real laugh this time. “What tipped you off?”
“You didn’t finish the one I gave you last night. Just sipped it and spit it back into the can when you thought I wasn’t looking.”
“Yeah,” Andrew said, stepping forward in line. “Never could stand the taste. Nasty stuff.”
“Well,” Allen said, “we’ll drink whatever you want.”
The cashier barely looked up as she rang them out. “That all for you, sir?”
“Yeah,” Andrew said.
“That’ll be two fifty-six thirty-four.”
Allen paid. They walked out into the violet afternoon.
“So,” Allen said, “we head back to the hotel. You take your mom’s rental?”
“Yeah,” Andrew said. “Charles hasn’t called all day. He’ll probably reach out around six. From there, we move. It’s an hour to Manitachie. I’ll be there at eight.”
He checked his watch. “It’s 3:58 now.”
“You want us following?”
“You, John, and Dr. Anthony,” Andrew said. “But not too close. Don’t spook him.”
“Got it.”
They climbed into Allen’s truck and pulled onto the road, the sky above them deepening into that same unnatural violet—like the world itself knew what was coming and didn’t dare look away.