by Angela Blake
The woman was pale, wearing a tiny under shirt. Her checkered button up shirt was bundled up and pressed loosely against her abdomen. It was dripping blood which was a testament to how much she had already lost.
Her dark brown hair was dirty and tangled up and it seemed like she had been walking for days. The gash on her head was clotted but it was quite big. It didn’t mar her petite beauty though.
All in all, it looked like she had taken quite a beating from the elements and from someone else.
Sam clung to his leg and watched her with wide eyes, curiosity in his gaze, but nothing else.
Zack kneeled down, resting one arm on his knee, and checking her pulse with his other hand. She was still breathing.
Her eyes moved frantically under her eyelids and her pulse was slow. Taking out his phone, he dialed Billy’s number.
When the foreman picked up, he was greeted by pained noises from the background and he winced. It seemed Bess was having a hard time with the birth.
“Billy, we’ve got a situation up here by the East gate. Bring the jeep around.” He eyed the barely conscious woman. “And tell Ted to swing by with a medical kit to the main house.”
“What’s wrong?” Billy asked, his tone hard. “Are you and Sam all right?”
Zack frowned, “There’s a woman here, half dead and bleeding. Somebody took a bat at her. We’re near the backwater pond. Don’t waste anytime.”
Billy closed the phone on him, understanding the urgency of the situation.
Somebody had taken a bat to her, if the bruises under her thin shirt had anything to say about it. They were black and blue but still quite recent. He would estimate them to be around two or three days old.
Her shoulders and stomach looked like heavy blows had rained on them in fury. His blood boiled at the idea of someone hurting a woman like this.
There were circles under her eyes but despite that there was something oddly striking about her.
“Miss? Can you hear me?”
Her lips parted as he felt her eyelids lift a fraction. Her mouth moved slowly as she tried to say something.
“Save your strength. We’ll get you to a hospital.”
Her lips moved again and this time he could make out the words, “N….hospital…no.”
Her hand lifted up to seize his shirt in a desperate grip and a tear slid down her half-masted eyes, “No hospital!”
Her voice was weak, but the despair and urgency in it got his attention as he noted that her eyes had opened.
Gently, he untangled his shirt from her grip, “All right. Okay. No hospital. I’m going to take you to my house. We’ll get somebody to look at that wound there. Don’t exert yourself.”
He glanced down at the wound and sure enough, it was bleeding now.
Taking off his own shirt, he tossed hers aside and pressed his clean one against the wound, adding pressure to it.
He looked towards the road and knew it would take a while for his men to reach them. They were in an isolated part of the ranch and their lands stretched acres and acres. He looked down at the woman and swore, knowing he could not risk moving her around.
He didn’t know exactly how much she had lost but it was starting to look bad. Her skin was losing colour fast and she was starting to go into shock.
He gripped her hand, and ordered, “You stay with me, you hear?”
Her eyes fluttered open for a beat and he noted that she had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. They were so clear that they looked like two bright crystals. Right now, however, they were hazy with pain.
“I’ve got you. You’ll be taken care of, okay? But you gotta hold on.”
Her nod was weak, but he caught it.
Good. She was a fighter.
He turned around to see Fabian standing in Sam’s way, not letting him close to the wounded woman. That pleased him.
Fabian didn’t let the child go to strangers unless Zack let him. He knew how vulnerable Sam was.
However, Sam was just as stubborn. He wanted to go to his uncle, and he kept trying to dodge the dog and reach Zack.
“Stay with Fabian, Sam.”
The boy looked miserable, but Zack didn’t want him seeing more than he already had.
The blood on those small hands indicated that he had shaken her to wake her up.
Zack pursed his lips but before he could think more on that, he heard the roar of a car engine from the opposite direction than where it should be coming from.
It wasn’t a jeep that stopped on the road, but a pick up truck.
A tall man jumped out of the back, a bag in his hand and hurried towards the fence, jumping over it.
“You called, boss –oh.”
Ted’s brown eyes moved over the motionless figure, “Who’d she piss off?”
But there was no humor in his voice, his hardened tone evident.
Kneeling down, he checked her pulse and then removed the cloth from her wound and then pursed his lips, “She needs a blood transfusions and a hospital.”
“She doesn’t want to go to a hospital.” Zack looked at him. “Freaked out when I mentioned it.”
Ted raised his brows, “You reckon whoever did this to her would be checking all the hospitals in the area?”
Zack frowned, “Doesn’t your cousin own a clinic in the area?”
“Shawn?” Ted blinked. “Yeah. That could work.” He took out his phone, “I’ll call him. Let’s get her into the back first though.”
Zac carefully held her in his arms and climbed into the back of the pickup truck, settling into a corner, careful not jostle her.
“Come on, Sam.”
In a matter of minutes, they were all on their way.
The drive was short and terse and Zack noted the way his nephew quietly watched the injured woman from behind Fabian.
“She’s going to be okay, kid. Don’t worry.”
Sam just looked away, but not before Zack caught the sheen of tears in his eyes.
Damn it! He would prefer Sam to be away from this mess, not smack dab in the center of it!
***
The first thing Ivy heard was the sound of someone sobbing.
Not hysterical sobs, but quiet ones.
Her eyes opened slowly and a blue ceiling came into her view.
Who painted their ceiling blue? And what was up with that ugly shade of blue?
It was early morning, she could tell.
The drapes were open and she could see the sun rising.
She looked around, her body feeling heavy, and her eyes fell on a golden haired boy in his pajamas that were decorated with teddy bears. Ironically, he held one in his hand as well.
He was rubbing his eyes, crying.
He looked so miserable and so alone, standing by the entrance that she tried to call out to him.
He looked up in shock at her and his face went pale.
Her voice hoarse, she tried again, “Hey. Why’re you crying?”
He seemed to understand her because he crept closer to her and stood by the side of her bed, wiping his tears.
Was he mute?
She knew some sign language but her body wouldn’t cooperate with her.
“Water.” She tried, barely able to form the words. “Could I have some water?”
It seemed like he understood her because he walked over to the vanity table that lay across the bed and clambered onto the chair to pour her a glass of water. He then jumped down and tried to carry it to her as carefully as he could, but he spilled half of it on the way over.
She tried to sit up, but the movement made her cry out when it felt like someone had suddenly set her abdomen on fire. Her body spasmed as if someone was running a thousand hot blades all over her stomach area. Tears streamed down her face at the agony and she barely registered the shattering of the glass on the floor as the startled child backed away.
She grit her teeth against the pain and forcing her body to
remain still so that the spasms of fire would fade away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the glass on the floor and also noticed that the boy was barefoot.
When he tried to approach her, she gasped out, “Stay there. You’ll get-“
She didn’t get to complete the sentence before the door was flung open and pain was the last thing on her mind when their eyes met.
He was huge.
Barefoot, with just jeans on, he had clearly just left the shower, if his wet hair and the towel flung around his neck was any indication. His hair was golden. Whereas the child had pretty curls, his were wild and unruly, sticking out in tufts. And his eyes were a deeper shade of green than the child’s.
His strong jawline was tense and his lips looked like there were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Right now, they were in a thin line, as his eyes quickly assessed the situation, and he scooped the child out of harms way.
“Go play outside, Sam.”
The boy looked at him before glancing at her form in bed, and then he dashed outside the room. She heard the barking, but her eyes were fixed on the strange man in the bedroom who was making butterflies flutter inside her stomach.
Water still dripped down his body, and she watched the trail the droplets left from his broad shoulders to his muscled pecs to those hard abs.
Did men really have such abs?
The man cleared his throat and she darted her eyes to his face, blushing furiously.
What on earth was she doing?
In her mortified state, she moved uncomfortably and the shooting pain made her gasp out.
The man did not hesitate.
He darted over the broken glass to her side, and his hands forced her back on the pillows, as he said in a gruff voice, “You shouldn’t move. Your wound will open.”
Her voice sounded gritty, “W-Water.”
He looked down at her for a beat and then nodded, and left the room. Ivy watched his back, and was relieved when he returned, having donned a shirt.
He held the glass for her and she saw that it had a straw. Raising her into a sitting position, he held the straw and when she desperately sucked in the water, he put a hand on her shoulder, ordering, “Slowly. Take small sips.”
He had a slow Texas drawl that in any other situation she would have found extremely sexy, but right now, she ignored it and other things. Instead, she obeyed his instructions, and after a few small sips, she felt exhausted and he laid her back down, just as delicately.
“How do you feel?” He stood next to her bed, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Like a truck ran over me.”
His lips quirked, and he raised a brow, “Well, you have two broken ribs. Your collar bone survived, but it’s cracked. You have a mild concussion, and you were inches from death with all the blood you lost. Also, looks like someone tried to gut you with a butter knife.”
Ivy started feeling a little woozy, “Sounds about right.”
Then her lips curved in a sharp smile, but her words were slurred, “Didn’t manage to gut me though. Gave them the slip. Stupid bastards.”
“Is there anyone I can call for you?”
Ivy’s head slipped onto the pillow, her mind starting to blur, “No one.”
And then the world turned dark.
CHAPTER 3
Sam would watch over her like a hound dog and it was driving Zack insane.
“Sam, for the last time, sit your ass down!” He growled, hooking his arm around the nearly four year old’s waist as he tried to scramble off his chair.
Sam glared at him, struggling as he was tossed into the chair, not so gently this time.
Zack scowled right back at him, “She wasn’t awake ten minutes ago, and she sure as hell isn’t awake now.”
When the boy continued to give him a mutinous look, Zack wanted to break something. He had no idea why Sam had developed such a curiosity about the half conscious female in his room but every time he would pass his room, he would see both boy and dog, sitting on the ground near her, playing.
He tried again, “She’s not going to stay.”
Sam turned his head to the side, ignoring him, and the dinner put in front of him.
The creaking of the porch door, had Zack turning around to see Billy entering, “Hey. What’s all the racket about?”
Sam chose that moment of distraction to make a beeline for Zack’s room, and Zack swore, “The idiot wants to spend his every waking minute with her. He gets angry when I drag him away from her side.”
Billy sat down in Sam’s vacated place and tried the mashed potatoes, offering, “Well, this is the first time since Lily that a woman has entered this house. Maybe he’s just fascinated.”
He shovelled in some more potatoes before speaking, “Although, this is the first time I’ve seen him rebelling against you. That seems like a good sign to me.”
Zack slammed his hands on the table, frustrated, “But she isn’t going to stay here! I don’t want him getting attached to someone who’s just passing by.”
Billy leaned back in his chair and eyed his boss, “Where’s she gonna go?” He shrugged, “I’ve asked around. She’s not from around here and there’re no missing people reports that match her.”
He took a bite of the steak and then spat it out, making a face, “That’s dry. What are you feeding the kid?”
Zack snagged the plate from him, and put the plate on the counter, “You hit up your police contact? What’d he say?”
Billy took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and took out one.
“Nothing. He checked every database, but she isn’t on any. Her fingerprints didn’t register anything. Not even on the DMV database. Whoever this lady is, she’s a ghost.”
He lit a cigarette and offered another to Zack, who took it but just rolled it around his fingers, “Or just very good at hiding.”
Zack was silent for a few seconds, “She surfaces for a while and then goes back down. The painkillers Shawn is giving her are working, but it’s been four days. He says another day wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Whoever went at her, did a real number on her,” Billy commented. Then he frowned, “But I’ll be damned, she reminds me of someone. Can’t put my damn finger on it.”
Zack leaned against the sink, his hands behind him, gripping the sink. “She looks a bit familiar to me, as well. But if we knew her, that’d mean she would be from around here.”
They brooded in silence.
“Take Sam with you to the mess. He can have a decent meal and stop hanging around sleeping beauty up there.”
Billy nodded, and then hollered, “Sam! We’re going out for ice cream. Come on down, boy.”
Silence and then a scurry of feet on the wooden floor. Sam’s cheeks were red and his hair was tousled, like he and Fabian had been mock fighting.
Zack grabbed him and sat him down on the table, “Don’t cause any trouble, you hear?”
He nodded his head, and then looked at Billy, who held out his hand.
Once they left, the house felt silent and Zack sank into a chair and finished his meal. Scowling at the dry steak, he still finished it.
Only fools wasted food.
As he cleaned up, his mind drifted to the sleeping woman upstairs.
Shawn had insisted on a hospital once he had done a preliminary exam on her, but the urgency in her voice and the desperation that she had drawn her strength from to beg him not to let her be taken to one had made him take the final decision.
She had been tortured.
He knew what torture looked like.
He had been caught once over enemy lines.
Lowering his head, he clasped the table with both hands, anger surging through him. She was such a tiny little thing.
Why would someone torture her?
Switching off the lights in the kitchen, he made his way upstairs to check on her.
The door creaked when he opened it but she was dr
ugged and completely out of it.
Her profile was that of a pixie, sharp features with youth written all over them. What was she twenty five, twenty six? She could not be older than that.
Her eyes fluttered and she mumbled something making him straighten up. He caught a hint of a name before she became silent once more.
He relaxed against the door jamb again, arms crossed against his chest as he studied her still form. Somebody out there was looking for her. Somebody who meant to hurt her. And if what Billy had said was correct, then she had nowhere to hide.
He stayed for a few more moments before closing the door and going downstairs. Grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, he moved to the porch, and enjoyed the wind.
The weather had been exceptionally nice today. He was hoping it would rain. Maybe the dry spell would end. But if it rained, the humidity would drive them all up the walls.
The snapping of a twig nearby had him stilling.
Then he relaxed again, one hand on the rifle that lay next to him.
He heard the footsteps and raised a brow, “Trespassing is against the law.”
Silence.
And then three men walked out from the shadows.
He sized them up in mere seconds.
Hired guns.
“Can I help you folks?”
The rifle still lay by his side, untouched, and the easy smile he offered them lulled them into a false sense of security. That, and the fact that the odds were three against one.
“We’re looking for somebody.” Said one of them, tugging at his tie probably in an attempt to loosen it.
Guns with money.
“Yeah?”
“A woman,” The man continued. “She’d be about this high.”
He gestured with his hand, and Zack noted the bite on his hand, in the porch light.
“That’s a nasty looking wound you got there, friend.” He commented casually. “You should get that treated.”
The man lowered his hand with a glower.
“As for a woman, I’ve not seen any in the past few days. Do you have a picture?”
The men shared a look, and one of them took out his phone and turned the glowing screen towards Zack, only for him to see what he had already suspected.