by Donica Covey
“Is it? Someone hired him to do this.”
Chase stood and moved the chair closer to Justice’s side. “Know who?”
“Yeah, he gave me all the details while he tried to kill me.” He shook his head and took a breath. “No. I have a pretty good idea.”
“So what exactly happened?”
Justice rubbed his chin, then stared deep into Chase’s eyes. “My gun killed him.”
Chase lifted an eyebrow, his gaze intent on Justice’s face. “Your gun? People have heard you threaten to kill the bastard when you found him, Justice.”
“It was a clean kill. There was no choice in the matter, Chase. Dalton would’ve killed both of us.”
“I believe you, and that’s what’s going into the report. I know all the guys will back you up, but you’ve got to be careful.”
“The only things I care about are looking into her beautiful eyes again and finding out who hired Bismarck in the first place.”
“We’ll find out and take care of him.”
“Not if I get to him first,” Justice muttered beneath his breath.
He heard the chair scoot back and the sound of Chase’s footsteps heading out into the hallway. With Cas’s hand grasped in his, Justice laid his head on the side of the bed. He refused to let her go.
Exhaustion washed over him and pulled him down.
His dreams were dark, jumbled visions. He couldn’t outrun the fire. The flames grew larger and larger, roaring as they swallowed them both.
Cas’s screams of pain and terror filled the room just before the burning beast devoured her completely. His chest heaved, trying to breathe, but each time only getting a lung full of smoke.
His heart cracked and shards of pain sliced his soul, knowing she was lost to him forever. Her voice floated on the flames.
“You did this. You were supposed to save me, but you let him kill me.” Her accusing tone followed him just before the fire ate him alive.
The blaze was so intense, so powerful, and the pain seemed never ending.
He pulled awake. He’d never be able to live without her; his life wasn’t worth a damn.
Her whole body throbbed, screaming in pain. Her head pounded. She tried to move her arm but it was still tied in place. Slowly, the pressure freed up and she could move.
Somewhere in the mist, she heard Justice’s voice. “Cas, baby, can you hear me? Open up those beautiful blues for me, huh?”
It sounded so far away. Where was he? Blackness swirled around her and she longed to give in to the promise of release it offered.
His voice was so sad, calling to her, but she was being pulled down into the abyss. A warm soothing touch registered in her mind. His heart called out to her.
“Cas, I can’t live without you. You see things in me that no one else ever has. You make me want to be better in everything I do.”
Warm moisture dropped on her hand. Lips touched her skin.
“You mean more to me than anything in the world. I’ll die without you.”
She tried to open her heavy lids. It was so hard. They weighed so much. But she had to answer him, had to let him know she was there.
The effort to move her fingers took all her effort.
“That was good, honey. Come on. Squeeze my hand again. Please, baby.” He sounded so excited that she longed to give him what he asked, but it was just too much.
Chapter Ten
Justice pressed the button for the nurse. “She moved her hand,” he shouted when the intercom buzzed him back.
“We’ll be right in.”
“Cas, please look at me. Please.”
Her face contorted. She was in pain, he was sure of it. But she still hadn’t opened her eyes. The only way he knew she heard him was the almost imperceptible squeeze she’d given his fingers.
“I think she’s in pain,” he told the nurse when she came in. “Can you give her something?”
The nurse pushed by him so she could check Cas over. “Callye, if you can hear me, squeeze my fingers,” the older woman ordered.
The nurse didn’t say a word but put Cas’s hand back down. She took the blood pressure cuff off the wall, positioned it on Cas’s arm and waited. While she held the stethoscope in place, she glanced at the machine pumping fluids into Cas.
The pulse oximeter flashed numbers, letting the staff know how much oxygen her body was able to sustain on room air. The cardiac monitor beeped, showing the rhythms. Nothing looked any different.
Cas was able to hold her own. She’d moved in response to his voice and she was obviously in pain. “Are you going to give her something for pain?” he asked again.
“Not right now. A narcotic pain medication will suppress her and send her into a deeper level of unconsciousness.”
A doctor came in and moved to Cas’s bedside, muttering to the nurse in a low voice as he did his own examination. The doctor turned to face him. “You said she moved?”
“I was holding her hand. When I spoke to her, she squeezed my fingers. It was slight, but it was there.”
The doctor walked closer to him. “It was probably a muscle contraction. I know you want to believe that she was responding to you, but there’s no indication she did.”
Justice forced his way around to the other side of her bed. “I know she heard me.” He looked into her face, willing her to move again. “Come on, baby. I know you can hear me, just squeeze my hand.”
He couldn’t have been imagining it—she really had moved, had squeezed his hand. “Please, Cas, just one little squeeze, that’s all I need. Just one little squeeze.”
Still there was no reaction. “Callye Ann, you listen to me. You wake up, let me know you can hear me.”
The doctor looked over at him. “We’ll keep monitoring her condition. She’s made it this far; she’s got a good chance. Why don’t you get some rest, and we’ll take care of her.”
No way was he leaving. No matter what that quack wanted to say, Cas had responded to him and he wouldn’t stop until she did again.
Justice leaned his face close to her ear. “Remember the first day I saw you? That rag of a mutt, Scraggs, you had at the park with the kids? Well, there is something you don’t know. When you found Megan talking to me, she told me that she wanted us to meet because you were lonely and she didn’t want you to be alone.
“I think Megan realized I was lonely, too. That all changed the magic minute I looked into your eyes. I was so lost. When you walked away I wanted to run after you. I wanted to call you back. But instead I kept my mouth shut. Then I saw you a few days later at the minimart. You pretended not to recognize me, but your eyes told me the truth.
“After we bumped into each other at the CoffeeClatch, I knew it was fate’s way of saying ‘you two are meant for each other’. There’s nothing I don’t love about you. The way you make that funny little snort when you laugh. The way some of those card commercials make you sniffle, or how you still cry at Bambi. The awful mess you make in the kitchen when you bake that zucchini bread. You make my life complete.”
“You…hate…my zucchini bread.”
“Baby. Oh, thank God. Can you open your eyes?”
He watched as they slid open a crack. He wanted to shout for joy and dance around the room. “Nurse. Come quick.”
The doctor, with the nurse on his heels, came back into the room.
He could read the doubt on their faces. “See for yourself.”
Cas moved her hand at the doctor’s touch, and through her practically closed eyelids the blue depths were visible.
“Callye, can you squeeze my fingers?” the doctor asked and smiled when she did.
“Can I…drink?”
The nurse left and came back with a pitcher of ice water. “Easy,” she cautioned.
Cas took the few allowed sips and her eyes opened more. “Is he…?”
The doctor and nurse had their heads together, scratching notes in Cas’s chart.
Justice bent close to her ear. “It’s all o
ver, baby. Dalton won’t be hurting you ever again.”
Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, slowly spilling down her face.
In his line of work a shooting was sometimes an unwanted necessity. There were shrinks to help the guys talk through their ordeal. It was hard enough for an agent. How was Cas going to be able to handle it?
“Will they have to arrest me?”
“Arrest you? For what?”
“For…for killing him.” Her tears became heavier.
He looked over to watch as the nurse and doctor left the room. “No. It was self-defense, justifiable homicide. I don’t want you talking about it, okay? Don’t ever talk about it again, not with anyone, all right? It’s over.”
There would be no charges. He knew that. But there would still be interviews and endless questions revolving around the shooting. Cas had been through too much already. If he could spare her having to talk about it, he would. Maybe not having to rehash it over and over would help her move on. Please let it help her move on.
He stroked her face and grabbed a Kleenex to wipe the tears from her eyes. “You need to rest. Get your strength back.”
“It hurts.”
“I’ll get them to give you something.”
The nurse was just coming in the door, a syringe in her hand. “Doctor ordered Demerol for the pain. It should help.” She swabbed the IV branch with an alcohol pad, inserted the hyperemic and slowly fed the medication into the tubing.
The heated flush suffused Callye’s body, and the pain began to lessen. As the medication worked its way through her battered body, it broke the hold the pain had kept her locked in.
“You look like hell.”
Justice gave her a small grin. “I think I’m going to pass out. You said ‘hell’. I’ve never heard you curse before.”
“I’ve thought a lot, said a lot, of things lately. I told him to go to hell.”
“Honey, I said a hell of a lot worse than that.”
“Thirsty,” she whispered, then licked her lips. He held the straw for her and it was all she could do to keep from trying to suck the entire cup down. “Thank you for saving me.”
Safe with the man she loved, the nightmare was finally over.
The man held her pinned beneath him. His hands roamed over her skin. She felt his throbbing as he pressed against her thigh. He was laughing. Calling her his. Promising he’d brand her forever.
He forced her legs apart and drove himself into her. “No,” she screamed, thrashing. Tears spilled off her face. “Please, don’t. Oh, please. Please stop.”
“Cas. Baby. You’re safe now. Honey, I swear you’re safe now. Just open your eyes and look at me.”
Justice? He was there, lying on the floor. Blood poured from the hole in his chest. It oozed from the cut on his head. “God, no. Please, Justice,” she cried, rushing to his side.
The madman grabbed her arms. His wicked laugh echoed in the room. “No one can save you now. You belong to me.”
“Cas. Baby. Please open your eyes.” It was Justice’s voice again. Through barely opened lids, she saw him standing beside her.
Pain etched deep lines in his face. Tears filled his eyes. She reached out her hand. “You’re…crying?”
“Yeah. I guess I am.” He kissed the palm of her hand. “I’m so sorry I let this happen, baby. God. Please forgive me.”
What would the darkness bring if she closed her eyes again? The nightmare would spring back to life. But staying awake was just too much work.
* * *
Abrahms waited for Mr. Rivera in the lush office. The sound of his pacing footsteps was nonexistent with the thick pile of deep burgundy carpet.
A mahogany wood sofa with burgundy velvet cushions sat along one wall. A large mahogany antique desk was nestled in front of a picture window. There were stables, horses and… Jarold shuddered. Everyone knew the place Rivera called his playroom.
Anyone who stepped over the line he drew in the sand experienced the playroom. The horrors Rivera inflicted there were enough to make the hardest man flinch.
Whips, cat-o’-nine-tails, leather thongs that ended with razors that sliced a person’s flesh through the muscle into the bone.
The sound of the door opening drew Jarold’s attention to the side room.
Mr. Ramiro Gonzalo Sancho Rivera entered and for a split second Jarold’s heart froze mid-beat. Sweat beaded on his brow. Please don’t take me there.
“Has it been done?” Rivera’s heavily accented voice held a tone that told Jarold the older man already knew the answer to his question.
“No, sir. The agent is still alive. But Bismarck didn’t survive the fire.”
“All three of them were supposed to die, was that not the plan?”
Jarold nodded slowly. “Bismarck was a fool. He let his pride overcome his senses.”
Rivera sat in his large chair and expelled a heavy sigh. “Blaming another for your own failure? I had thought better of you, my friend.”
“I’m not the one who failed,” Jarold argued.
Rivera’s face reddened and his eyes became glittering points of obsidian. “I told you to remove the agents blocking my trade route, yes? I said to get rid of them one-by-one. It should have been such an easy task. But you let your man get carried away. He slipped up.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Jarold mumbled. The fire in Rivera’s eyes chilled him. Mr. Rivera would skin him alive for arguing. Jarold swallowed hard.
“Get rid of Bernard, whatever it takes.”
“Yes, sir.” Jarold nodded and hurried from the office. He’d dodged a bullet. Thank you.
Chapter Eleven
Pointed lights of pain danced in Callye’s head. She lifted her hand to try applying pressure to make them stop. Her arm screamed in stiff agony with the movement. Everything hurt. Her arms tingled with marching ants carrying lances under her skin.
Her face throbbed with every beat of her heart, and she felt such a deep level of exhaustion she wasn’t sure she’d be able to surface again.
There were voices in the room. Justice and…was that Chase? She lay still, trying to focus on the words.
“You don’t mean that, Jus. It’s no wonder. You’re exhausted. But think about what you’re saying.”
“I am. Once she’s better, and home, I’m leaving. I can’t do this again.”
His words burned her heart. That man, Bismarck, was right. Justice wouldn’t be able to stand even looking at her, much less being in the room with her. Her knight in shining armor? The man who loved her more than anything in the world? Tears welled and escaped her closed lids, trekking their way down her cheeks.
Justice had lied to her. He’d made her think she was the entire world to him.
His warm hand gently brushed at her cheek. “Baby? What’s wrong? Are you hurting again?”
She had to force herself to look at him. No matter how hard it was, she had to open her eyes. “Go…away.”
The look on his face almost ripped her apart. “What?”
Through the fog in her mind, she remembered how convincing he could be. Steeling her will, she opened her eyes a little wider. “I said I want you to go away. Now.”
For several minutes, he stared down at her, the moisture collecting in his eyes. She’d lost her soul in his eyes. If he was going to leave her, then he shouldn’t wait to make sure she was well, right? Get it over with so she’d have the time to let her body heal and her heart go numb.
Justice looked down at her one last time. His face crumbled and aged right before her eyes, and then he was gone.
Wracking sobs permeated her body. The bed beneath her trembled as she dissolved into tears. The pain was all encompassing now. She wished Bismarck had killed her.
Chase leaned down near her. “Callye.”
“You can leave too,” she said between hiccoughs of tears.
Justice was gone, her life over. She turned her head to face the wall and waited to hear Chase’s steps echo down the corrido
r.
Alone with her pain, she let it collapse in and pull her down into a prison of darkness that had once been her soul.
* * *
Justice pulled in front of his duplex and shut off the engine. Cas had shut him out because he got her in this. He begged her forgiveness. What kind of ass would expect forgiveness? He didn’t deserve her. If she hadn’t been fool enough to fall in love with him, she’d still be happy and healthy in her own world.
He entered the garage and made his way to the stash of beer and slammed down a cold one.
There was no one to blame but himself. He polished off the bottle and threw it against the opposite wall, relishing in the sound of the shattering glass.
“Damn it,” he roared. Just when he thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, another spasm shot through him, almost bringing him to his knees.
His stupid visions, his dreams of what they could have together, all crushed to dust. He grabbed another beer, then another, then a fourth.
It was going to take a lot more than beer to drown the image of her beaten and aching from his mind, from his heart.
He made his way to the living room, dropped on the sofa and threw an arm over his eyes. Just under his arm, he could see a little picture on the end table.
Mickey and Terese Flannery had gone with them to Merritone Amusement Park. After hours of rides and games, Cas had finally twisted his arm enough to get him into the little antique photo shop. Terese had Cas’s camera, and when the photographer positioned them for the shots, Terese snapped a few of her own.
Cas was dressed as a… What had she called it? Flapper, that was it. He dressed as a gangster, Cas on one knee, a Tommy gun propped on the other. They were so happy, so much in love.
He went and picked up the picture, his finger tracing her face. His insides were shriveling and dying.
The good life. A life he’d dreamed of. A life he didn’t deserve. Now it was gone. “Son of a bitch,” he shouted and almost threw the picture against the wall.
He couldn’t throw it, but he needed to break something. Destroy something. He put the frame back on the shelf and headed for the kitchen in search of something stronger than his beer. Opening then slamming shut cabinets, drawers, and his fridge, brought him up empty.