The Last Best Lie

by Kennedy Quinn

  Leaning in, I put my ear to his mouth. His breath rasped, shallow and ragged, and his skin felt clammy and cold. Not good. The ground would leach the heat from his body quickly. Something wet flowed onto my hand. I jerked it away and stared at my fingers, now covered in his blood. My body began to hyperventilate, but my mind shut that down. I needed to get him warm and get help. I can’t waste time panicking!

  I needed to stop the bleeding first. Grabbing him by the shoulders, I said softly, “I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.”

  Grunting with the effort, I turned him over. His leg was bleeding, but the flow was almost stopped. The blood coming from his chest worried me far more. I flung open his jacket and tore open his shirt, then cringed at a terrifying noise: the sound of air being pulled directly into his lungs. Shit! An open pneumothorax: survivable with attention, fatal without.

  I pulled his t-shirt up over the wound. Blood seeped out, puffed into carmine-tinted bubbles by the influx of oxygen into the wound. I had to plug that hole. But how? My hands shook, sticky with blood, cold. Suddenly, my father’s voice sounded in my thoughts. Think, Madison. You know what to do.

  I took a deep breath. Right, Dad. I know we studied this. Sucking chest wound. I need to seal the wound. How? Come on, Dad. Help me remember. A seal … I need something … nonporous! That’s it! Something air won’t get through. You did this once, Dad, at a car accident. You used … oh, yeah! A plastic sandwich bag! I need a plastic sandwich bag.

  Crap! I don’t HAVE a plastic sandwich bag! God! I’m such an inept fool!

  All right. Calm down. What else? Plastic wrap? Nope, not packin’ kitchen supplies. Think! He’s going to die if you don’t. Something nonporous, like plastic wrap or—or what?

  “Come on, Hunter,” I whispered. Don’t you have any thing I can use to wrap—? I gasped with elation. Wait! Wrap! Of course! Hunter, wrap, sex, penis: a latex-wrapped penis!

  Condoms! I can use condoms!

  God, I love how my mind works!

  I grabbed Hunter’s face and forced him to look at me, trying to ignore the smears of blood I left on his cheek. “Hunter! Listen to me. Do you have any condoms?”

  His breath was ragged. He grimaced then opened his eyes. “Wha … ?”

  I lowered my voice, looking around. I was reasonably sure Lilly wasn’t near, but I wasn’t positive. “I need something to seal your wound. Do you have any condoms?”

  “Wa … wallet.”

  I leaned over him, rummaging through his pockets. “Jacket,” he said into my left breast.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  His coat splayed limply around his body. I reached in and yanked out his wallet. My hands shook as I opened it. I licked my lips and tried to concentrate, but fumbling fingers forced me to dump it on the ground between us. Credit cards and high-value bills fell out, along with six small square red packets, each one trimmed in silver and decorated with black italicized writing: Custom made for M.J. Hunter. Lubricated. Cinnamon-flavored for her enjoyment.

  My mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding! You have your condoms custom-made? Oh, you have way too much money, mister!” Still, I thought, as I ripped open the package, cinnamon is nice. I like cinnamon. Jeez, I really need a boyfriend. I studied the candy-red condom. Damn, they’re too thin! “God, Hunter. They’re supposed to be ‘ribbed for her pleasure,’ you self-centered jerk. If they were they might be thick enough. Crap, now what do I use … ?”

  A wave of calm spread over me. My brain put two and two together, that wonderful brain of mine, and came up with four. Plastic. Thick. Heavy. Heavy, thick plastic. Credit cards!

  I shoved the condoms into my pocket and grabbed Hunter’s platinum VISA. The trembling in my hands was almost gone. Yes! Heavy plastic. Oh, but they’re rigid, so they won’t bend to the contours of his chest. I need a sealant: something viscous. Something, like, like … ah! I reached into my jeans and pulled out my tube of lip gloss. I could picture my father smile as I smeared the edges of the card and placed it firmly on Hunter’s wound.

  My lungs deflated, pushing out my relief in one breath. It worked! The suction from his laboring lung pulled the card down, and the sticky gloss formed a firm seal with his chest. Hunter’s shaky breaths steadied. His body relaxed.

  From a distance, I heard rustling. I ducked and pulled Hunter closer to my chest. About a hundred feet away, I spotted Lilly, climbing hard and fast, struggling against gravity. My mind scurried toward escape plans and then realized she was heading for the car.

  Yes! Sure, she’d get away, but let her. Revenge can wait. Hunter was my immediate concern. I let out a long, quavering breath. “Let’s tie this down. Then I’ll get help.”

  I looked around for a tie and saw … his tie. Well, that’s convenient. I grabbed it, but it wasn’t long enough to get around Hunter’s chest. After a scan of the area, I realized that my best bet was my own shirt. Yanking it off, determined to ignore the cheesy feeling of being, yet again, in nothing but a pink lacy bra in public, I tore the shirt at the neck and made a long strip.

  Lifting Hunter’s shoulders, I rested his head on my lap. Using his tie as an added compress against the credit card, I wrapped my ripped shirt around his chest and tied the end in knots. Then I swept up his money and credit cards and slipped them into his coat pocket. He groaned, and I pulled back. “Sorry,” I said. “I just don’t want to leave them lying around.”

  Hunter opened his eyes and glared at me, however weakly.

  “I know, I know. That’s stuff’s not that important right now.”

  “Never,” he said, his words heavy with pain. “… cross in front … got me … shot.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But please don’t die. Just this once be nice and do what I ask.”

  “You’ve … got … to … go.”

  “I know. I’ll get help as soon as I get this bleeding under control.”

  “She’ll … come back.”

  I tugged harder at the knot over his wound and cringed as he moaned in pain. “I saw her climb to her car. She has no reason to come back.”

  “One … one … reason,” he gasped out.

  “What?”

  “To … finish … me … off … you id—… you id—… you …”

  “Idiot?”

  He nodded breathlessly.

  A car door slammed, over the hill and farther down the road. Hunter and I both cringed. We waited: five seconds, ten, fifteen.

  Hunter cocked an ear toward the sound. “She didn’t … start the car.”

  Shit! He was right. She wasn’t called “pit bull” for nothing! She’d kill me, if it killed her. I shifted position to grab Hunter under the arms. “We’ve got to get to cover,” I whispered.

  He shook his head. “Just … go.”

  “No. If we can just get you into hiding … uh!” I groaned as I tried to lift his massive shoulders. “Jesus, Hunter. You weigh a frigging ton.”

  “Help me … stand …”

  “You can’t! Your chest—”

  “Then … leave me!”

  “Damn it, Hunter!” I swung to face him. His face was deathly pale, his lips bloodless, but his eyes still blazed with arrogant determination. And yet, beneath it all, I saw his fear. Maxwell Hunter might have been the baddest badass this side of the Mississippi, but none of us could stare down death without flinching. He blinked and looked away. My heart pulsed, and I wanted to pull him to me. But I didn’t. Sympathy would defeat him. I needed to make him want to fight.

  “To hell with you, old man!” I hissed. “If you want to lay your sorry ass down to die, be my guest. But that bitch has killed a lot of people. And I don’t give a damn if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to take her out. Are you with me or not?”

  He turned back to me, surprise softening his rugged features. He smiled hungrily. “Fuckin’ A,” he growled.

  “That’s more like it. Here, I’ll help you sit up.”

  “Gun …” he said, nodding toward the weapon he had dropped.


  “Oh, right.” I grabbed it and stuffed it into the holster on his belt. Working together, we got him into a sitting position. But the moment we did, his eyes closed and he started to sway. I braced him and started to lower him to the ground, but he revived and shook his head.

  “No … we do this,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Nodding, I put his arm around my shoulder, eliciting a painful gasp. I studied his chest wound. My repair job was holding; it was a good, tight seal. He hurt, but he could breathe. But what about blood loss? How much longer could anyone, even a man that strong, hold up?

  I chewed my lower lip, trying not to give into the worry. “Ready?” I said.

  Hunter nodded. He got his good foot under him and, with a muscle-straining heave on my part, we got him to his feet. His weight nearly buckled my knees. He swayed again, and I stumbled under the burden. Gritting my teeth in determination, I tightened my grip on Hunter and braced myself. He recovered and leaned more of his weight on his good leg.

  “Great,” I said and looked around. The uneven ground was strewn with pebbles, twigs, and loose dirt. How the hell would I get him up this slope?

  “Where’s … your phone?” Hunter gasped, his voice weaker still.

  I grabbed for it, but it wasn’t there. Damn! I must have dropped it. “Yours?”

  He shook his head. “On the dash. Trying … to listen to you and … drive.”

  Licking my dry lips, I looked around. “If we can get you to a big tree, at least you’ll have cover. Then I can get to your car and call for help. Do you have your keys?”

  “Pants pocket … left.”

  Working my hand between our bodies, I found his keys and shoved them into my pocket. “All right. Let’s do this.” I faltered under his weight as he hopped on his good leg, but we finally made it to a massive pine. We maneuvered him against it and he struggled to lean on his side.

  “She’ll try to … get—” He stopped, laboring to breathe.

  “I know. The slope’s too steep for her to get behind us. She’ll either come from the road or from the side. The best thing is to have the tree between you and the road above.”

  That got me a genuine, if exhausted, smile. “Hope … for you yet,” he gasped out. He leaned against the tree, its sweet clean scent washing over us both. Sweat streaked his skin and he raised a trembling hand to wipe it from his eyes.

  “You rest,” I said. I couldn’t believe he was on his feet. Sure, I’d seen less miraculous feats of strength while helping my father at his practice, and Hunter was an exceptionally strong, healthy man, yet even he couldn’t go on much longer. “I’ll get to the car—”

  The sound of falling pebbles stopped us both. Hunter’s hand went to his gun and he pulled it out more smoothly than I would have thought possible. His breath steadied and his eyes focused with fierce determination. Yeah, this guy could be a real dick, but he was tough and insanely brave. And from the look of him now, damned dangerous.

  I scanned the area, trying to locate the sound. “Do you see her?”

  He shook his head.

  “Could you hit her if you did?”

  He held the gun out in trembling hands. “Not from … a distance.”

  I ground my teeth. We both looked around. Hunter’s eyes narrowed as he studied the trees. “Got a … plan,” he said.

  “I’m glad one of us does.”

  Blinking against the sweat, he nodded to the tree. “You go …”

  “I’m not leaving you! Not while we know she’s close.”

  “Listen!” The outburst almost did him in. He swayed. “Get to the tree … opposite me.”

  “I get it. She ends up between us. And then what? I distract her while you shoot her?”

  He nodded.

  “In the back?” I said, brow furrowing. “Isn’t that rather unethical?”

  Hunter’s eyes shot wide.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m an idiot.” I ducked into a crouch and started out but then pulled back. “Hey, what if she shoots me while I’m distracting her?”

  “Don’t …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Her.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Don’t let her. Good plan. Have I mentioned recently that I hate you?”

  He grinned weakly. I launched myself, low and quick. My heart pounded and my hands shook nearly as badly as Hunter’s. But I didn’t have two bullet holes in me. I set my jaw. If Hunter could stay on his feet, I’d be damned if I’d wimp out.

  They say time slows down in times of danger. That’s crap. It ceases to exist. One minute, you’re here, the next you’re there. Primitive instinct takes over and you simply fucking move!

  I reached a tree about thirty feet away from Hunter. Crouching down, I peeked out.

  Lilly came into view. She cleared the hill above us, closer to me than Hunter.

  I dove to my belly, startling a squirrel as I did. It scampered off and the whole forest echoed with the sound of rustling leaves. I froze.

  So did Lilly.

  I leaned forward just enough to see her crouch. Underbrush tickled my chin and the earthy scent of dirt coaxed a sneeze. I stifled it and looked up toward Hunter, but he was completely behind the tree, out of Lilly’s sight and mine.

  I turned my attention back to Lilly just in time to see her ease out her gun.

  So that’s why she went to the car. She had a spare!

  I lay perfectly still. Hunter made no sound. I heard nothing but the somber cooing of a dove in the trees above me. After a moment, Lilly moved forward, cat-like and quiet. Her gaze followed the trail we’d made to Hunter’s hiding place. She smiled, a predator’s smile, probably assuming he’d crawled away on his own. After all, how stupid would I have to be to come back?

  I saw it in her cold, green eyes. He couldn’t have gotten far. He’d be easy to finish off. She straightened and walked carefully toward Hunter’s hiding place, keeping within easy ducking distance of each tree she passed.

  Anger surged hot as lava inside me. She’d kill him without hesitation, like she probably killed Jake. She’d told me that Nestor smothered him, but she probably had done it herself, the bitch! My jaw ratcheted tight. No way in hell! No! She would not get my Hunter too!

  Okay, brave words, Madison. But think. You need to distract her when she gets close to him. But how? Probably best not to jump up and yell “shoot me,” as she most surely would.

  Silently, I rose to my knees and scanned the ground around me. The forest floor was loose and thick with dirt and small pebbles. Discarded branches were too thin to do damage. What I needed was a big, heavy rock to throw—that would distract her long enough for Hunter to get the drop on her. But nothing bigger than a blueberry lay within reach. Like, what, it’s so damned hard to have a big, heavy rock in the woods when you need it? Damn it!

  I rummaged through my pockets. Aha! Hunter’s keys! And condoms! Oh, but what good are they? I need something solid, with heft. The keys will simply tumble in the air. Shit!

  Stumble fingered, I dropped the keys into the dry leaves.

  Lilly whirled and fired straight at me. I dove again to the ground. Immediately, a second shot rang out, pinging against the tree by her head. Lilly plunged behind the trunk.

  I’d covered my head with my hands, my face buried in the leaves and dirt. After a moment, I slowly raised my head and peered out at Lilly. She stood directly between me and the road, and, as luck would have it, also between Hunter and me. Her body faced me, but she peered over her shoulder in his direction and clutched her gun in both hands, finger on the trigger. Carefully, she leaned out. Another shot rang out and tree bark splintered above her.

  “Give it … up!” Hunter called.

  “I don’t think so!” she yelled back. “You sound a couple pints low, Hunter! You can’t hold out as long as I can. And it looks like the little preppie deserted you.”

  My turn. “Wrong again, Lilly!”

  S
he pivoted in my direction.

  I stayed plastered to the ground. “You’re surrounded! If Hunter doesn’t put a hole in you from one side, I’ll do it from the other. Why don’t you be smart and put the gun down?”

  “Why don’t you come and get it?”

  “Oh, please, may I? Toss another one her way, Hunter. Give her a little incentive.”

  THUMP!

  The sound hit me like a blow to my lungs. Uh-no! I do not like the sound of that thump. That is definitely a wounded-man-hitting-the-ground-unconscious kind of thump.

  I peered along the ground, past Lilly, toward Hunter’s hiding place. From my vantage point, I could see the sole of a very expensive shoe. Ah, crap! Could Lilly see it too?

  She didn’t move from her shelter, but I saw her brows knit in suspicion. She glanced back over her shoulder. Shit! If she knew Hunter was down, he and I were both dead.

  “Yeah! You’re right, Hunter!” I shouted. “No need to waste the bullets. You save yours, and I’ll save mine.” I rolled my eyes. Clever, Madison, that’ll fool her. Geez!

  Lilly’s eyes narrowed. She leaned out farther toward Hunter’s location. When no shots rang up, she started to rise.

  Damn it! I have to delay her long enough to find a weapon. “Think this through, Lilly!” I yelled, “Voltaire’s going to want to minimize the bad press from all this. If you give up now, it’ll go easier on you. Drop the gun and lay on the ground, and I promise I won’t shoot.”

  A suspicious smile played at the corner of her mouth. “And where did you get a gun?”

  Yikes. “Uh. Hunter. Those macho boys always pack enough heat to start a small war.”

  “That true, Hunter?” Lilly called over her shoulder. “I can’t see you arming the wimp.”

  Hunter said nothing. I couldn’t blame him, though, since he was probably passed out cold and bleeding to death.

  Lilly looked back toward my hiding place. She hadn’t lunged for me yet, which meant she wasn’t quite sure I didn’t have a gun. “Your hero’s awfully quiet, isn’t he? Maybe I got him good enough after all. Now who’s going to protect you? You should have stayed in school, little girl. You’re in way over your head, and you’re going to die for it.”