Promises After Dark (After Dark #3)

by Kahlen Aymes

  Ten seconds after the front door to the house slammed, Mark Swanson was coming down the stairs, carrying Alex’s gun. He was smiling sadistically, enjoying Alex’s helpless position.

  Alex glared at him viciously.

  “Well, well, well,” Swanson murmured, patting the barrel of the gun on the palm of his left hand. “I admit you surprised me, Avery.”

  “Then you’re an idiot,” Alex shot back sarcastically.

  “You’re hardly in a position to make insults.”

  “Fuck you,” Alex spat.

  Swanson lifted the gun and used the butt to deliver a vicious blow across Alex’s jaw. His head snapped back with such force, the chair wobbled. Pain exploded again, his neck twisted, and he could taste the saltiness of blood in his mouth.

  “See… If I were you, I’d cooperate.”

  Alex spit a mixture of blood and saliva on the floor. “It seems you’ve lost your bargaining chip.” He gave a low chuckle that only served to infuriate Swanson further.

  “My guy is going to find her, then I’m going to have a little fun with her.”

  It took effort, but Alex’s mouth twisted mockingly. “Dream on, dumb ass. Isn’t one dead body enough for you? Angel isn’t exactly a damsel in distress.”

  Alex had to keep Swanson distracted, but his mind was flooded with concern for Angel. He could feign bravado, but he was scared shitless. He wondered if Kyle found her and Jillian, and if not, could she get away from the man Swanson had sent after her. He’d been knocked out from behind, so he hadn’t seen him.

  Swanson shook his head. “He’s three times the size of this one.” He nodded at the dead kid. “She won’t stand a chance. And, I still have you.”

  “That’s true. But, if you kill me, you’ll never get a cent, you stupid son-of-a-bitch.”

  The other man huffed. “You have a big mouth for someone tied to a chair with a gun pointed at his head.”

  Alex didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes locked on Swanson. He was bleeding and hurting, but there was no way in hell this fucker was going to win. If he died himself, he vowed he’d take Swanson with him.

  Alex shrugged nonchalantly and cocked his head to one side. “Because, I still have the upper hand.”

  Swanson’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “Really? How so?” His tone dripped with sarcasm and arrogance, obviously mocking Alex’s statement.

  Alex shook his head. “You don’t get it. You need my money. You fucking lost the thing you had over me.” He let a slow smile slide over his face. “Even if you kill me, I win.”

  “When Dennis finds Angel, I’m going to fuck her right in front of you. Then I’ll kill you both. Then I win.”

  Alex’s heart began to hammer in his chest. Swanson could do what he wanted to him, but not to Angel. He would rather die than see something happen to her. “If you find her; if she doesn’t drop your other thug. If I don’t get loose and rip your goddamned head off.” Alex’s eyes never wavered as he said the words: his voice solid, stoic, convincing. “That’s a lot of fucking ‘ifs’.” The other man bristled, and Alex drove his point home. “In case you missed it, you don’t have the best luck when it comes to me.”

  Mark Swanson’s face mottled with rage, turning a bright red. He still had Alex’s gun, and he could easily hit him again, but Alex couldn’t stop his taunting.

  “Between the cops and Marvin Standish, you’ll be hunted down like a dog.” Swanson’s eyes widened at the mention of Standish. “Oh, yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that. Who do you think told me where to find you?” Alex forced another sly smile. “He doesn’t want you breathing. You’ll either be whacked or be some big motherfucker’s bitch behind bars.” He laughed harshly, still taunting. “If I had my druthers, the latter would be my choice, I admit… However, I’m not all that optimistic.”

  Alex knew he was pushing the boundaries of what was safe, and if the other man came back with Angel in tow, they’d all be fucked. His bargaining power would be gone. “You need money. You know that or we wouldn’t be here. The only way you survive is if we make a deal.”

  17

  Consequences

  Angel pulled Jillian close to her body. She could tell from the lack of any light from the cracks in the wood, and the drop in temperature, that the sun had gone down. They were both cold and shaking. Angel had done her best to keep Jillian warm by opening her coat and plastering Jillian up against her chest, then zipping her own coat back up around the little girl. Jillian was asleep after eating the rest of the banana. They both had to go to the bathroom, and Angel had no choice but to risk a trip into the woods earlier but had made it back into the barn, and the wagon, without seeing anyone.

  She was nodding off, but then startled when the door to the barn creaked. Instantly, her eyes were open, and she was at full attention. Someone was coming. Her heart sped up in panic, slamming painfully into her breastbone. She inhaled a shuddery breath, holding it as she listened to someone come in and walk around. A flashlight beam moved around, and Angel could see it when it hit high on the walls or the ceiling of the barn. Whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see them inside the wagon unless they climbed up and looked into it. Hope bloomed inside her. Maybe it was Alex. She wanted to jump up and look; she wanted to call his name, but she couldn’t. In case it wasn’t.

  Her worst fears were confirmed less than thirty seconds later.

  “Come on, girly,” the gruff voice of the bigger of Swanson’s goons called. Her heart sank and fear flooded through her. He wouldn’t be as easy to take down as the skinny crackhead had been. And, her position inside the wagon, while it hid them from sight, left her at a disadvantage. He’d grab her and subdue her if he saw her climbing out. She couldn’t move. “Dr. Hemming! You’ll freeze out here. Think of the kid.”

  There was a grunt then the man yelled in pain. “Arghhhhh!”

  The thud that followed indicated he’d fallen down. She froze in place, her ears straining to hear what was going on. Had he tripped?

  “Stay down, you motherfucker,” a male voice muttered. “Ugh!” he grunted.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. Kyle? She recognized that voice.

  There was another grunt followed by a few seconds of silence.

  “Angel? Are you in here?” Kyle asked. “I said stay down!” he yelled loudly.

  Angel thought she was dreaming. She stood up and grabbed the side of the wagon. Jillian was still strapped to her underneath her coat. She peered over the edge.

  It was hard to see, but her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness after hours in the barn, and Angel could make out Kyle’s outline. One foot was pushing against something on the ground. The flashlight, still lit, laid on the ground next to the dark blob that would be the other man.

  “Kyle?”

  Kyle’s eyes shot in the direction of her voice.

  “Angel! Where are you? In the wagon? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. We’re cold but okay.” She used her arms, but it would be hard, if not impossible, to climb out with Jillian attached as she was. “Thank God, you’re here. Is that asshole incapacitated?”

  “He has a knife in his back and a gun trained at his head, so I guess you could say that.”

  “Where’s Alex? I can’t climb out. I have to hand down Jillian first.”

  “He went to the house. I’ll have to help you out. Give me a minute.”

  Angel was relieved Kyle was there, shocked he’d come with Alex but so thankful. She was also scared shitless Alex might be in that house alone with Mark Swanson. “Kyle, please hurry.”

  “Oh, fuck it,” Kyle muttered. There was a low noise of him moving something then another grunt as he removed the knife. He considered his options. He couldn’t leave with the possibility this man would get up and fight. He flipped the gun around, holding it by the barrel, and bashed it as hard as he could against the man’s head. There was a sickening thud and a cracking sound. Kyle grimaced.

  Within seconds, the gun was stowed, and he was c
limbing up and sitting on the edge of the wagon, one leg inside and the other still perched on the tire. “Come on,” he commanded. His arms surrounded Angel and pulled her up until she was sitting next to him. He moved out of the wagon, and scooted back on the tire when both of his feet were in place. “Can you swing your other leg over?”

  Angel unzipped her coat, peeling a sleeping Jillian from her chest. With the shared heat missing, Jillian stirred and Angel shivered. “Take her, Kyle.” She quickly handed Jillian over then climbed down behind Kyle. Jillian’s head settled onto Kyle’s shoulder, but when Angel was on the ground, he handed her back to Angel.

  “I have to do something with that.” Kyle nodded to man on the dirt floor.

  “Is he dead?”

  “If we’re lucky.”

  “Jesus, this is so surreal. We have to help Alex!” She was anxious.

  “He sent me to the barn when he went to the house. When we got here, there were no cars. I saw them drive in and hid on the backside of this barn. There were only two of them. They went in then this asshole came out here.”

  “There were only three of them, so Swanson is the only one left.”

  “What happened to the third one?”

  “He’d dead. I fought him.” Kyle wasn’t surprised at her calm strength, but he was in awe she could fight like that. “Let’s go.”

  Kyle shook his head and touched Angel’s arm. “Alex made me promise to get you out of here before I did anything else.”

  “Do you have a car?”

  “Yes and no. We walked in. The element of surprise would’ve been lost if we drove in.”

  “How far away is it?”

  “I’d say a good four or five miles out.” They were now at the door to the barn, and Kyle was peering out. “I don’t see any sign of Alex, but there is a light on in the house.”

  “Take Jillian out, Kyle. I can’t have something happen to her. I’d never forgive myself.”

  “Angel, we’ll all go. Come on.”

  “No!” she said frantically, shaking her head. “Someone has to help Alex.” Her eyes flooded with tears and she choked up. “You don’t know how ruthless Mark Swanson is! He takes pleasure in torturing people.”

  “Then you take Jillian out, and I’ll go in for Alex.”

  “I don’t know where to find the car; you have to do it.”

  Kyle put his hands on his hips and glanced up before looking back at her. “Angel, there is no way in hell I’m leaving you here. That’s crazy.”

  Angel’s hand reached out. “We can’t argue about this; we have to do something! Now.”

  “Okay, well, this guy is toast, so you’ll be safe in here with Jillian. I’ll go.”

  She shoved Jillian back at Kyle. “No. I know the layout of the house. You don’t. I can sneak up on him easier and faster than you can. Please, Kyle.” Her eyes were pleading from her bruised face. “Please.” Her voice was laced with desperation.

  He sighed. He could see her point, but it went against his better judgment to let her go in alone. If only they didn’t have the kid to deal with. “What if we put her in the back of that old Cadillac?”

  Angel shook her head adamantly. “No. That’s the car they brought us here in. If he manages to get away from us, he’ll take off with her in the backseat. I can’t risk that, Kyle. Please! We’re wasting time.”

  Kyle pulled the gun from his waistband, cocked it, and handed it to her. She took it automatically, but she didn’t want to use it. “Kyle, we can’t shoot him. I deal with this shit all the time, and we can’t use guns.”

  “You can if it’s self-defense.”

  Depended on the circumstances, her mind argued. The way the fucking laws were written, who knew what would happen. She couldn’t shoot Mark Swanson in the back, but that would be the easiest way. “Okay. Thank you, Kyle.” She touched his face with her empty hand.

  She opened the door to the barn without another word and raced across the yard as fast as her legs would carry her. At the door to the house, she gripped the gun in both hands and pushed through it. Angel wasn’t prepared when Mark Swanson charged up the stairs toward her. He was armed with a large handgun that she didn’t remember seeing before. She raised the gun and tried to steady it with both hands. His was larger and more menacing than the one she’d trained on him, and it was pointed right at her. Adrenaline rushed through her veins.

  “Stop right there.”

  Mark Swanson stopped abruptly; his eyes taking in the gun in Angel’s hand; he smiled wickedly. Her hands were shaking and he saw that. She was small, and she barely eaten in almost a day and a half. She would be weak.

  “Come now, Angel.” He took another step toward her. “Let’s be reasonable, before you get hurt.” Anger welled up inside her as she lifted the gun higher. He’d beaten and threatened her repeatedly, and with no sign of Alex in sight, he had to have been hurt, or worse.

  “I said stop!” she yelled. “Alex?” she called loudly. “Alex!”

  “Downstairs,” he called. That voice was even more beautiful then she remembered. Her breath left in a grateful rush at the sound of his voice. Thank God.

  Swanson, starting toward her, still held the gun up in his hand and trained it at her. She didn’t think, only reacted. Angel’s fingers squeezed the trigger and a shot rang out, sending one bullet slamming into Mark Swanson’s upper right chest. He staggered backward, looking stunned, and his arm holding the gun dropped to his side. His fingers relaxed and the large gun fell to the floor, clattering on the old tile floor of the kitchen.

  “Angel!” Alex cried out in agony. “Oh, my God! Angel!”

  She rushed forward and shoved Swanson with all her might. He stumbled backward, but didn’t fall, though she did succeed in knocking the gun from his hand. “Downstairs,” she commanded softly.

  In the basement, Alex, still tied to the chair, was pulling on the ropes so hard they were cutting into him sharply. He could feel the blood start to ooze and run down from his wrist and onto his palms.

  “Angel!” he shouted again, his voice full of anguish. He couldn’t breathe; he didn’t feel the pain as the ropes ripped away at his flesh. Finally, he pushed off with his foot causing the chair to topple backward. The wood cracked and splintered into several pieces. “Jesus Christ! Answer me!” He was on the floor, face to face with the blank eyes of the dead man lying in front of the cot, frantically trying to be free of the ropes that confined him. With his elbows no longer restrained, he was able to twist his hands free of the ropes, though more of his skin was ripped open. He scrambled into a sitting position to begin working on the ropes at his ankles, blood covering his hands and running in rivets down from the wounds just above his elbows and soaking his shirt. Splinters from the broken chair ripped into his hands, but all he could feel was the sickening beat of his own heart. “Angel!”

  “I’m okay, Alex! Downstairs,” she demanded again. “Now!”

  Alex’s breath rushed out and grateful tears blurred his vision. She was safe, but they weren’t clear yet. Relief flooded through him, and his muscles trembled then sagged. A tear rolled from each eye as he watched Swanson stumbled down the stairs. Finally, Alex was free of all of the ropes and stood up, but he’d been tied in one position for so long, his legs and feet were asleep.

  The right front of Swanson’s shirt was soaked in blood, beginning to run downward to saturate his pants as well. It wouldn’t be long and he’d be dead, based on the way he was bleeding. He slipped on the last couple stairs and stumbled forward.

  All Alex saw was Angel. She was pale except for the angry bruise on her cheek and her black eye. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes and coat were covered in filth. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He sucked in his breath and stepped forward. His legs were shaky, and electric tingles ran through the bottom of his feet and legs; it was almost painful, but he quickly got to his feet.

  Swanson yelled and, turning, rushed toward Angel in a last effort to take the gun away fr
om her. It happened in a flash, but it felt like slow-motion replay. In one move, Alex stepped forward, and without thinking and using both hands, gripped Mark Swanson by his head. Pulling in opposite directions, he snapped the man’s neck. When Swanson fell between them, Alex reached out and took the gun from a stunned Angel. It was still hot from when she’d shot Swanson, so Alex quickly put on the safety.

  Angel was shaking in shock, and Alex stepped over the dead man and enfolded her in his arms. She started crying into his chest, her arms tight around his waist. He pulled her as closely against him as he could with one arm, careful to keep the gun in his other hand safely behind his back. He could feel her heart thundering against his own, feel her shoulders shaking, and the warmth of her breath on his neck. He’d never been more thankful for anything in his life.

  “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” He closed his eyes and kissed her on the temple. The relief flooding through him brought tears to his eyes. “Jesus, God, I was so scared.” His mouth was still against her head. “It’s okay, babe. I have you.”

  “Aleeexxxx!” She was crying as if her heart was broken, clinging to him for dear life. His super, strong girl was falling apart. “Are you okay? Did that bastard hurt you?” she cried.

  Alex almost laughed despite the situation. Was he okay? She was the one who’d been almost killed. His mouth found hers in a gentle kiss. “Yes. It’s over, Angel.”

  “I was afraid I’d never see you again. Are Becca and Cole okay?” She was terrified of the answer, but she had to know.

  “Becca is fine. She was in the convenience store, but Cole was shot.” Angel pulled back, her mouth opening to speak. Alex shook his head once. “He’s alive,” he said before she could ask.

  “Thank God.” Her face crumpled again. Frustrated, angry tears filled her eyes. “I’ve never hated anyone as much as this bastard, Alex. He’s hurt so many people.”