by Robin Huber
“No,” I cry.
“Makayla,” Kellan mumbles, lifting his head, and I struggle against the arms wrapped around me.
“Kellan!”
“Look, it’s not like I want to see him gunned down by these savages,” Spencer says quietly to me, and a sob bubbles up in my throat. “He’s a decorated soldier. What does that say about me? But...he killed a lot of Salgado’s men for you and, I have to tell you, these guys are pretttty pissed about it.” He nods to the masked gunmen and widens his eyes.
“Please, I’ll do anything. Just don’t let them hurt him. Please,” I beg.
He drops his head to the side and raises his hand to my cheek. “Anything?” he asks, trailing his finger along my jaw, and a sickening chill oozes down my spine.
“Anything,” I say, gritting my teeth together. “As long as you don’t hurt him.”
He puts his hand under my chin and holds my face up. “You are pretty.”
I close my eyes and swallow down the bile that’s rising in my throat.
“It’s an interesting proposition.” He drops his hand away. “But no.”
“Please,” I cry, watching the blood and saliva drip from Kellan’s mouth into the sand.
“Please? Does he know you’re a whore?”
“You’re a fucking bastard.”
Spencer lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do it quickly. I’m not heartless,” he says as smoke pours from his nostrils. He takes another drag and blows it in my face, and the inky black begins to consume me. “I can’t guarantee what they’ll do to you, though. Especially now that you’re begging for it. But don’t worry, they’ll kill you when it’s over. And I promise, you’ll want them to.”
I feel myself slipping away.
I’m going to die.
Kellan’s going to die.
Our baby’s going to die.
I can’t fight the tears any longer. They fall mercilessly onto my cheeks.
“And after I’m done with Derek and his sweet little wife, I’m going to put this whole thing behind me. Start a new path of redemption. I might even do some philanthropic work.” He throws his hands in the air and smiles. “I’ll tell you, though, your collateral damage is astounding. I mean, Derek Bishop? Really?” his voice pitches. “Man, you think you know somebody.”
“Callie and Derek had nothing to do with this,” I shout, feeling my world disintegrate.
He flicks his cigarette into the sand and gestures to the man behind Kellan.
“No! Please,” I beg, struggling as he walks back to the SUV. “Please, Marc. You don’t have to do this!” He ignores me and closes the passenger door after he gets in.
I blink away the tears in my eyes and look at Kellan. “Kellan,” I cry, trying to get him to look up again. “Kellan, look at me! Please!” The man pushes his gun against the back of Kellan’s head and I feel the metal barrel of a gun against my temple. My heartbeat slows to a subtle thump and everything is in slow motion... The wind blowing through my ripped nightgown, the tiny particles of sand it picks up and sends across the desert floor, the clicking of the gun beside my ear, the echoing of my panicked breaths that swirl heated air down through my lungs and back up my parched throat.
The pain that I feel is immeasurable.
The sorrow that I feel is all consuming.
I’m helpless to stop the dark shadow that’s slowly moving across my sun, threatening to eclipse it forever. I’m never going to touch his face again, I’ll never feel his lips on mine or stare into his beautiful blue eyes again. With one last ragged breath, I cry, “I love you, Kellan.” I close my eyes...and it’s just me and him...in the lagoon...and everything is quiet and still.
A loud blast rings in my ears and frees me from the arms imprisoning me.
I exhale the breath I was holding and open my eyes, praying that heaven is the island and Kellan is here with me. But I’m still in the desert. When the ringing leaves my ears, I hear yelling and more blasts. I look down and see the man who was holding me lying on the ground by my feet, bleeding into the sand.
I look up and see Kellan on the ground, his hands still tied behind his back, his face in the sand, but no blood. The man standing over him raises his gun and fires at another masked man, confusing me, until I see his red hair.
“Grant?” I cry when I see the blood pulsing from his neck.
He falls to the ground and removes his mask, gasping and groaning.
Another masked man kneels beside him, and puts his hands over the bleeding spot on his neck.
Adam?
I bend down and pick up the gun at my feet with shaking hands and aim it at the red flower in the middle of the last skull standing. He’s got a fistful of Kellan’s hair and he’s screaming in his despondent face. I grip the gun tightly and pull the trigger, and the blast forces my arms up and rings in my ears.
The man falls to the ground and I run to Kellan, stumbling when the fleeing SUV explodes loudly, sending an orange fireball blazing up into the air. I fall to my knees beside Kellan and pull his face into my lap, looking for gunshots, but the only blood I see is from the man I killed. “Kellan”—I rub his face—“look at me, please.”
“Kayla,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t open his eyes.
“It’s okay.” I cry over him. “I’m here, baby, I’m here.” I look around at all the dead skulls scattered across the blood-stained sand and see Adam hovered over Grant. “Adam,” I call, but he doesn’t look up. His bloody hands are pumping Grant’s chest, over and over and over. I lay Kellan’s head down in the sand. “I’ll be right back, Kellan. I’ll be right back.” I run across the hot sand to Adam and fall to my knees beside him. “Is he breathing?” I cry when I see how pale Grant is.
Adam doesn’t answer me.
I press my fingers to Grant’s neck and try to find his pulse, but I don’t feel anything. I check his lifeless wrist and a sob bubbles out of me. “He’s gone,” I cry, reaching for Adam’s arm, but he doesn’t stop. I stand up and watch him pumping Grant’s chest again and again, but the blood has stopped spreading into the sand beneath them. I hold my hand to my mouth and cry. “Adam, he’s gone,” I say again, blinking through tears that flood my eyes. “He’s gone.” I pull on his arm. “Kellan needs your help. Please.”
He presses his forehead to Grant’s and screams loudly, “Ahhhhhhh!” He stands up and starts shooting the dead men around us, until all of his bullets are gone.
I hurry back to Kellan and untie the restraints from his wrists. “We’ve got you, Kellan. Adam’s here.” I try to lift him up, but it’s like pulling on a boulder.
“I’ve got him,” Adam says, reaching under his arms. He drags Kellan across the desert, over a hill to a SUV.
* * *
I sit on the edge of a hospital bed, anxiously waiting for the doctor to come in. The nurse who checked me said that my vitals were good, but she couldn’t tell me anything about the baby. I inspect the bruises on my arms—my only injuries...that are bodily, at least.
I look down at my hands, which haven’t stop trembling since I fired the gun and killed the man who shot Grant, who would have killed Kellan if I hadn’t stopped him. Tears roll down my cheeks, but I wipe them away when the doctor walks in.
“Makayla, I’m Dr. Ramírez,” she says in a soft Spanish accent.
“Hi.”
“I have the results from your blood test. It looks like you’re about six weeks pregnant.”
“I’m still pregnant?” More tears fill my eyes.
“Yes.” She smiles softly. “But I’d like to do an ultrasound to check the fetus.”
“Okay.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and lie back.”
I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling while she does an internal ultrasound.
“Let’s see... Right there.”
I look at the monitor she’s pointing at and she turns it toward me, but all that I see are blurs of black and white. She touches the screen.
“You see that little flicker?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat. A few more weeks and you’ll be able to hear it.”
I swallow hard, almost biting through my lip to fight the sudden flood of emotion.
“I’d say you’re right at six weeks.”
“And you’re sure everything’s okay? The baby is...okay?”
“Everything looks perfectly fine. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Would you like to see your fiancé now? He’s been asking for you.”
“Yes.” I nod, desperate to see Kellan.
“Come, follow me.”
I follow her through the hospital to Kellan’s room and she leaves me outside the door. But I pause when I hear Adam talking to him. I peek through the crack and see Adam sitting in a chair next to the bed, gripping Kellan’s hand.
“When I told Grant what we had to do, he didn’t hesitate. You know he wouldn’t. Not for one of his brothers.” He looks at Kellan, whose bruised jaw is clenched tight. His watery eyes are locked on Adams. “I tried to save him, Kellan, I fucking tried. But I couldn’t,” he croaks, and a tear rolls down his cheek. He clears his throat and wipes his face. “Makayla killed the guy. She killed that piece of shit with one shot, and she saved you.”
A nurse walks past me into Kellan’s room and they see me standing in the doorway.
“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Adam says, glancing up at me.
When he passes me, I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “I’m sorry,” I say, kissing his cheek.
He squeezes me and says gruffly, “I’m going to go call Mia.”
I nod and release him. I turn my attention to Kellan, who had a dislocated shoulder and three broken bones in his hand. The nurse leaves and I go to him.
“Hi,” I say, choking back tears as I sit on the bed beside him and take his good hand in mine.
He lifts our entwined fingers and touches my cheek. “Makayla.”
I look into his blue eyes, which are clear from the drugs now, remembering how only hours ago, I thought I would never look into them again. I swallow the difficult memory and touch his bruised face, seeing the torment in his eyes when he asks, “Did they hurt you?”
I shake my head. “The only thing that hurt me was seeing what they did to you. I thought you were... I didn’t think...” My voice cracks.
“Shhh...I know. Don’t think about that anymore. I’m okay.” He touches my face again.
I inhale a shaky breath and nod. “Are you in a lot of pain?” I lightly touch his shoulder.
He shakes his head, but I know he must be. “And the baby?” he asks.
“Um. The baby is fine,” I say carefully, unsure of what his reaction might be.
He reaches for the material covering my stomach and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they’re filled with ferocity. “I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt my family again.”
I exhale a strangled breath and shake my head. “No one will. It’s over now. It’s all over.”
“I need you to do something for me, Makayla. Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Protect our baby. Keep him safe.”
I feel my heart flame with the same ferocity I see in his eyes, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I will do anything to protect them both. “I will.”
He pulls me close and holds my face to his. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine.
I shake my head vehemently. “I won’t.” I kiss him, ignoring the tears that leak onto my cheeks.
He holds my face and asks, “Why did you run away from me?”
“I was scared,” I say, feeling ashamed, because the consequences of my actions will haunt us for the rest of our lives. “I thought you were going to leave me.”
“Makayla”—he shakes his head—“I will never leave you.”
I close my eyes, unable to stop the tears from falling from them. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “Everything that happened to you...and Grant,” I choke out, “is my fault.”
“Look at me,” he says, lifting my chin. His jaw tightens when he says, “What happened is not your fault. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault.”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat and nod.
“You saved me.” He pulls me down against his chest and we lie together in his hospital bed, holding each other until the day turns to night.
* * *
I sit in a folding chair next to Kellan, squeezing his hand tightly and hiding my watery eyes behind my dark sunglasses. I close my eyes for a moment and try to escape the cloud that’s looming over us, but the quiet sobs echoing from the crowd of people who have gathered for Grant’s funeral chains me to reality, reminding me that it wasn’t a dream. It was real.
I can still feel the heat from the desert on my skin. I can taste the sand in my mouth. I can feel the fear wrapped around my neck, strangling the life out of me. I have new nightmares now. I’ve seen Kellan die again and again, while sleeping soundly in his arms. I’ve begged Marc Spencer to let him live night after night. His voice echoes in my head, even when I’m awake. But he’ll never threaten us again. He died in the explosion in the desert, which wasn’t at the hands of Adam or Grant. Rumor is, Salgado found Marc to be a poor business associate, drawing unwanted attention from the DEA. I guess Marc was too narcissistic to realize that Salgado’s plan to make him “disappear” was actually to kill him.
The New York DA is still pressing forward with the hearing, bringing a lawsuit against Marc’s estate. Michele has assured us that we’ll be compensated for our pain and suffering, but no amount of money can undo the harm he caused. But hopefully it will give Jessica’s parents some justice.
A volley of gunshots blasts loudly, pulling me from my thoughts and making me jump. Kellan squeezes my hand as another round of shots are fired. And another. The decorated marines lower their rifles and stand in a uniformed line beside Grant’s casket as Taps is played.
I hold Kellan’s hand as we somberly walk through the cemetery to an awaiting car, but I pause before we get in. Kellan looks down at me. “What is it?”
I gaze up at his blue eyes, grasping at memories of a time without fear and sorrow. A time when we were happy, even if we shouldn’t have been, even if I was too naïve to see the danger awaiting us. It’s been weeks since I’ve felt any sort of peace and I long for the quiet tranquility of the island. I long for the ocean. I long for the rain to wash away the corruption and death that has stained our souls. “Take me away from this place, Kellan. Take me as far away as we can get.”
Chapter 24
Makayla, Four Months Later
“I can’t see,” I say, touching the blindfold over my eyes.
“That’s the idea.” He laughs. “No peeking.”
I have no idea where he’s taking me, because we’ve only been in Kauai for a couple of weeks and I haven’t gotten my bearings yet. But we’ve been driving for a while now. They call it the Garden Isle, which couldn’t be a more accurate description of Hawaii’s fourth largest island. It reminds me a lot of our island in Costa Rica, like Kellan said it would. There are high mountain peaks and low grass-covered valleys, cliffs that drop off into the ocean and rainforests. There are rivers and waterfalls. Plus the island is dripping with culture. There are art and history museums, boutiques and restaurants, and there’s always live music playing somewhere.
I blindly reach for Kellan’s hand and when I find it, I bring it to my stomach. “Do you feel that?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice when our baby kicks inside my stomach. I’m almost six months pregnant now and there’s a tight round bump between my hips. “I feel him...or her.” We aren’t going to find out if it’s a boy or a girl, but I can only imagine a beautiful baby boy with dark hair and blue eyes like my handsome fiancé.
“Are we alm
ost there?”
“Just a few more minutes.”
I can’t help but feel excited, even though I have no idea what I’m excited about.
“All right,” he says, putting his new Jeep in park. It’s dark blue with big wheels and a black interior that has all the features of a new car, including satellite radio and GPS–luxuries we didn’t have on the island. He opens my door and takes my hand. “Okay, careful,” he says, helping me down out of the Jeep.
My feet find the pavement and I shuffle them a little, feeling the cement under the soles of my sandals. I reach for my blindfold.
“Not yet,” he says, stopping me. He guides me across the pavement onto what feels like grass, then stops and turns me around. He pulls the blindfold off my eyes and my mouth falls open.
I’m staring at a house—a very beautiful house—that’s framed with palm trees and lush tropical landscaping. It’s a dark blue, wood-shingled ranch with wide-framed windows and a wraparound porch.
“Kellan, what is this?”
“It’s ours, if you want it.”
“You bought a house?”
“Well, I found a house. Do you like it?”
I nod and exhale, “It’s beautiful.”
“Do you want to see the inside?”
“Yes.”
He smiles wide. “I think you’ll like it.” He pulls me across the lawn and up the steps to the ornately carved wooden front door. He opens it and my eyes scan the space as we go inside. Dark wood floors reflect light that’s coming in from everywhere. The whole back of the house is windows, which I can see from the entrance. And in the distance, the blue horizon is sparkling under the midday sun. The rooms to my left and right are furnished with rich woods that are accented by bright blues and deep corals.
“Does the furniture come with the house?”
“If you like it.”
I bob my head. “I love it.”
“Me too.”
He leads me into the kitchen, which is open to the living room. I trail my finger over the marble countertops, noticing the dark veins that streak the shiny white stone. They complement the dark cabinets and shiny stainless steel appliances. I touch the glass-tile backsplash—the tiny rectangles that reflect shades of blue and turquoise.