by Leah Ashton
Something rustled maybe five metres from where they hid, and the shorter of the two men shot at the scrub, and Beth gasped beside him.
It was the slightest of sounds, but the men heard her, and they shot in their direction, maybe two metres to their left.
Too close.
He fired. Once. Twice.
Both men fell, one immediately silent, the other rolling in agony on the ground.
“Run,” Damon said, grabbing Beth’s hand and sprinting past the bodies. The sun was creeping higher, and there was now enough light for the men’s blood to shine red, not black, as it spread into the parched earth.
He wrenched open the driver’s side door of the SUV, as Beth did the same on the passenger side. The key, miraculously, remained in the ignition, and euphoria began to build in his chest as they each slammed their doors shut.
They were going to make it.
The car started immediately, and gravel shifted and spun beneath its wheels as he slammed down the accelerator, drove onto the bitumen and turned the car for Laverton. It was not even two kilometres to the town, and to safety.
They were so close. So close.
Beth’s hand brushed against his thigh, then squeezed it gently. He glanced from the road to meet her gaze, her blue eyes reflecting all the hope and relief and joy he felt too.
They’d done it. They’d fucking done it.
But then, her grip tightened, and her nails dug into the heavy fabric of his jeans.
“Damon!”
He looked up and swore viciously. Ahead of them, previously concealed by a slight curve in the highway, were three SUV’s parked side by side – blocking the road. A Notechi with a gun hung out each passenger window, and another emerged from a sun roof, a shot gun pointed directly at their windscreen.
He hit the brakes, and the car skidded as he yanked the steering wheel around to spin them 180 degrees. The wheels squealed as he hit the accelerator again, shoving his boot to the floor and flying back down the highway – further away from safety, but he could fucking work out later where they were going to drive to. Beth still gripped his leg, and he could hear a tremor in every breath she took.
They flew across the bitumen, the Notechi SUVs taking chase behind them, but he had a decent lead, and the car’s petrol tank was full.
They could do this. He could do this.
But then, as the car zipped over a rise and down a slope – he was forced to hit the brakes again.
And this time, Beth didn’t grip his leg hard. She didn’t say his name.
Instead, her touch fell away, and she brought her hands to her lips, smothering a cry she had every right to make.
For right in front of them, blocking the only way they could go – were three more SUVs. All foreboding black, all with dark tinted windows, all with armed men ready to halt their escape.
To halt their lives.
Chapter Twelve
Beth bit the skin of her palm, swallowing a scream.
No.
No, no, no, no.
This couldn’t be happening. Not after all they’d done and how far they’d come.
But, undeniably, it was.
At least six armed Notechi waited before them, and just as many behind. There was nowhere for them to go, absolutely nowhere.
Damon slowed the car to a stop. No screeching of tyres this time, no nothing. It was as calm as if they were stopping at traffic lights in the middle of Perth. As if they were a normal couple going for a drive, and this wasn’t the end.
They were maybe 100 metres from the cars ahead of them, but the sound of engines behind them told her that the other cars were much closer. But she didn’t bother looking over her shoulder – she knew the cars would’ve come to a stop. That guns were right now pointed at her and Damon.
She already knew exactly what was going to happen.
Damon held a Glock in one hand. She still held hers, not having loosened her grip since shooting Gaff.
“I’m going to try to drive between the two cars to the left,” Damon said low and urgently. “Crash our way through. I want you to stay down, and if they shoot me, shoot them. Shoot the lot of them.”
“This isn’t going to work,” Beth said. “There’s too many of them.”
He met her gaze. “Probably not,” he said, and in that moment, she loved him for his honesty.
Suddenly, there was a gunshot. Their rear windscreen shattered, and Beth didn’t bother trying to swallow her scream.
“Get down!” Damon yelled, and she did, and he gripped the steering wheel and set them propelling forward again, the car skidding and winding down the bitumen. Another shot, and their front windscreen disappeared, covering them both is chunks of snow-like glass. Beth looked up at Damon, bent low over the steering wheel, his gun still in his hand, his expression focused, determined. Defiant.
Defiant.
She sat up instantly and raised her gun. They approached the parked cars at speed, and Beth had hardly any time to even aim – she just fired at the cars – the bikies too difficult to see behind the tint, but knowing anything she did would make it harder for the bastards to shoot Damon, or herself.
“Beth,” Damon shouted, but he didn’t tell her to get down again. He just met her gaze for a split second, and nodded – and she fired again.
Then as a bullet smacked into her headrest, she screamed, then fired again.
She had no damn idea how many bullets her gun held, but she knew she wouldn’t stop shooting until they were spent or she was dead.
The noise was incredible – the yells of the bikies, the roar of the car, the echo of shots being fired, the ping of bullets off the metal of their SUV.
But she was not going to cower down in her seat. She was not going to wait until the Notechi killed her. She was going to fight right to the end.
Fight to the end, right beside Damon.
Then – not even thirty metres from the wall of Notechis – there was a new noise.
A thrum. A loud, pulsating sound, coming closer and closer. Behind them, then above them.
Whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp
Beth looked up, realising for the first time their SUV had a sunroof – and then through that tinted glass, she saw it.
A helicopter. Almost immediately above them, painted darkest navy blue, with a stark white emblem painted on its side: A shield surrounded by a wreath.
A familiar emblem, and writing below.
Elite SWAT.
Damon looked up too, then hit the brakes. They were so close to the waiting SUVs that their car skidded and spun as he hauled it to a stop. The whole time, Beth’s gaze was trained skyward, hardly believing what she was seeing.
From the open helicopter door hung men dressed in black overalls, all holding deadly looking guns aimed at the Notechi. Someone was speaking through a loudspeaker, yelling at the bikies to drop their weapons. To not move.
Their car finally slid to a stop. They were metres from the waiting SUVs, close enough that Beth could see the faces of the bikies through the smashed window of one windscreen she must have shot out. One met her gaze, his gun still pointed at her, his eyes full with panic and confusion.
But he didn’t fire. Instead, he yelled at the driver beside him, and the car reversed and turned, flying away down the highway. From a car that remained came a gunshot – aimed at the sky – but a moment later, a scream, blood splatter, and a body collapsed across the open window, flung every which way as that car then reversed, and also sped away.
In the distance, Beth could hear police sirens, and she looked over her shoulder.
Behind them, and beyond the row of vehicles that had them trapped only moments ago, were two plain white SUVs, police lights flashing and blocking the way. More cars approached beyond, police cruisers with sirens blaring – and one circumvented the parked cars to pelt down the highway after the escaping SUVs.
The last remaining car that had blocked their way didn’t move, and through the open window Beth could se
e the driver slumped over the steering wheel, any other passengers long gone.
Finally, she looked at Damon.
And he looked at her.
His face was lined with exhaustion, but his eyes – his eyes were bright. His gorgeous, compelling, intense hazel eyes.
“We’re safe,” he said.
Then he leant forward and kissed her.
She kissed him back. She kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him until she started to shake – shock and relief overwhelming her.
Then, he held her. He dragged her into his lap, and sat with her – directing anyone who approached their car away while he rubbed her back and murmured words she could barely hear against her hair.
Finally, her body stilled, and she could pull her face away from his tear-soaked T-shirt. She looked up to meet his gaze.
His gaze was pained, and different to before. Gone was the light, replaced with shadows she couldn’t interpret.
“It’s over,” he said, looking deep into her eyes, and into her soul. “It’s over.”
“Damon—” she began.
But he shook his head, then gently – but dispassionately – extricated her from his lap.
“Come on,” he said, in a tone she hadn’t heard before. Like he didn’t know her at all and they hadn’t just spent the most extraordinary thirty-six hours of her life together. “Medics are here to check you over, and the detectives need to interview you.”
And with that, he opened his door, and without a backwards glance walked away.
It’s over.
Elite SWAT flew them back to Perth in a tiny plane, with just enough space for Beth, himself, and six of the tactical operators who had scored a seat. The rest of the team that’d been deployed would be flying back later in the day.
The plane could only fit two seats to a row, and Beth and Damon sat in the front row, just behind the pilot, a narrow aisle between them. He’d hardly seen Beth since E-SWAT had swarmed over the Notechi on the road into Laverton. First, she’d been in the hands of paramedics, and later, answering some preliminary questions from the detectives. Now, on the plane, she’d almost immediately dozed off, her body curled towards the window, her head nestled against the headrest. He couldn’t blame her – personally, he wanted to sleep for days.
The tactical guys were keen to know the details of what had happened over the past few days, and asked him incessant questions, but Damon felt too drained to even begin. He’d be doing a lot of talking once he was in front of the detectives – so he’d save himself for that.
He did manage to find enough energy to ask how Elite SWAT had found them.
“Ms Banfield’s sister raised the alarm yesterday when Beth wouldn’t answer her calls,” said Nate Rivers, an operator he’d gone through E-SWAT selection with, and who was sitting behind him. Damon twisted in his seat so they could talk across the back of his chair. “As soon as we knew she’d been with you, the security footage from your place was pulled, and once we tracked your phone to a petrol station just past Kalgoorlie, it was pretty clear where you were.” He paused. “It takes a bloody long time to get to Laverton, but you did a great job keeping her safe for as long as you did. The medics said she is physically fine, just shaken up, understandably.”
“She kept me safe too,” Damon clarified, but he shook his head when Nate raised his eyebrows in question. “I’ll explain later.”
He turned, and settled back into his chair, but not before a quick glance at Beth.
But she was no longer sleeping, and he realised she’d overheard his conversation with Nate. She met his gaze steadily and with such intensity that he was momentarily unable to look away.
But only for a moment.
He had to look away, and so he did.
Because he’d meant what he told her in the car, and he knew she’d understood what he’d meant: It’s over.
And it was over between them – as incredible and as fleeting as what they had, had been.
It was over between them because it had to be.
A woman like Beth deserved so much more than a man like Damon Nyhuis.
Chapter Thirteen
It was a long, never-ending day after her endless nightmare of a night.
Beth sat inside the room where she’d been interviewed for hours, finally alone. The hundreds of questions had ceased, but she’d asked the detectives if she could just have a moment alone in the cool, windowless room.
They’d looked at her a bit strangely, which she understood. Her family were waiting for her, and of course she was desperate to see them.
But …
But, once she left this room, it was all over. Of course, she was thrilled the kidnapping bit was forever behind her, she just wasn’t ready for things to be over between her and Damon.
She hadn’t seen him since they’d been driven to Elite SWAT headquarters. On the plane, she’d feigned sleep, but despite her exhaustion, real sleep had proven elusive. Instead, her brain had focused – not on the awful things she’d witnessed – but on Damon. On how he’d made her feel. Not just the sex, but the rest too.
The most magnificent woman I’ve ever met.
No man had ever said anything like that about her. Her whole life, she’d felt unswervingly normal. She was clever, but not remarkably so. She’d been told she was pretty, and her ex had called her beautiful – but honestly, she was realistic. She was hardly model material. She’d had a very successful career that she was proud of, but there were thousands of wonderful teachers out there, and she didn’t stand out amongst them.
But Damon made her feel special. His trust, and his belief in her strength and in her smarts – quite simply, just in her – made her feel special to him. With him, she could almost believe she was magnificent.
And yet, he’d shut her out. He’d told her they were over.
She understood all the logical reasons why he would say that.
And there were just as many logical reasons why she should agree.
But, if her ex’s near-death experience could teach her that life was too short for a loveless marriage, then her own near-death experience could teach her so much more.
As their car had hurtled towards those waiting SUVs, and she’d made the decision to fight for her life beside Damon, she had genuinely believed she was going to die. She’d been in a state of varying degrees of terror from the moment they’d been kidnapped, but until then, until bullets had been flying centimetres from her face, death had not felt inevitable. But in those moments, incontrovertibly, it was. If the E-SWAT team had arrived even a minute later, she would’ve died. So would’ve Damon.
That kind of experience … it was life-changing.
So now she knew something new. Life may be too short for a loveless marriage, but it was also too short – way too short – to not feel the way Damon made her feel again.
At least one more time.
The door to the interview room reopened.
In walked the detectives she’d been speaking to – a woman and a man – and Damon.
She met his gaze as he entered the room. He wore overalls in that almost black E-SWAT navy blue, and he immediately shifted his gaze away.
He sat to the side of the table, the two detectives directly in front of Beth.
“Ms Banfield,” said Detective Potts – a short, curly-haired woman who had sharp, intelligent brown eyes. Beth quite liked her. “Thank you for your cooperation so far. I’d like to tell you that you’re now free to go, but unfortunately that’s not the case.”
“Pardon me?” Beth asked, stunned.
“This is a complex case,” the detective continued. “You may be interested to know that the version of events provided by all Notechi bikies arrested has been remarkably similar, and they all have fingered Garth Gaff as the instigator of your kidnapping.”
“Including Gaff himself,” Damon added.
Beth’s eyes widened. “But why?”
Detective Anand spoke, a whippet-thin black-haired man with
coffee-coloured skin. “This isn’t unusual. This is typical OMCG protocol.”
“Outlaw Motorcycle Gang,” Damon explained, answering the question on the tip of her tongue.
“They’re protecting their president,” Anand continued.
“So, Knife will get away with it?” Beth raised her hand to her mouth, horrified. To think of that evil, despicable man just walking around in society was … was unthinkable. She didn’t think for a second that Knife hadn’t been behind everything that had happened to her this weekend.
“No,” Anand said tightly. “Fraser Smythe – or Knife as you know him – won’t get away with anything. But we won’t be arresting him just yet.”
“But—”
“Please rest assured, Ms Banfield,” interrupted Detective Potts. “That we all want Knife to go away for a very, very long time for this. However, there is a significant operation in progress that I’m not at liberty to reveal to you. We need for that operation to be completed first, then we’ll charge him with both your kidnapping, and the charges arising from that operation.”
“What could possibly be important enough to let a man like Knife walk the streets?”
Beth hugged her body, feeling trapped. How could she ever feel safe with Knife free to do as he pleased? The Notechi had her purse, her keys, her address.
“As discussed, I’m not at liberty to say, Ms Banfield.”
Beth did not like Detective Potts so much now.
“I think I deserve to know,” she said heatedly, “given I suspect Knife likes to get rid of inconvenient witnesses. Like me and like Damon.”
“Ms Banfield—”
“I agree that you should know,” Damon said. He looked at her, meeting her gaze, and for a moment, he looked like the Damon she’d been in the desert with. “We want to get him on drug trafficking charges, Beth.”
“Senior Constable Nyhuis!” Interrupted Detective Anand. Detective Potts just glared at him furiously.
Damon completely ignored them both. “There is a shipment he has planned – it’s what I’ve been working on – and if we get him on that, he’s in jail for a very, very long time, and we get more than a billion dollars of meth off the street. His clever lawyers won’t be able to get him off of those charges.”