by Tabatha Kiss
I would have told her the same. I don’t want her to see this.
“You, too,” the masked one growls in my ear. I shift towards the corner and the doors close. The golden box moves upward, rising high towards the roof.
My eyes scan the reflective walls, watching for an opportunity; just one split second of time that will make all the difference. Black mask here is no rookie. He’s got his eyes trained on me and his aim is solid. Mercer’s eyes are on the move as well, memorizing every detail of the cramped space. His gaze drifts to Dani and it flows down her back to her ass.
The elevator lurches to a stop on the roof.
Black mask lowers his gun an inch, meaning his muscles are loose—
I spin around and reach for his outstretched arm. He panics and pulls the trigger, shattering the glass next to Dani’s head. She screams and falls to her knees while I twist his wrist, cracking the bones of his hand. He drops the gun and I kick it closer to her.
Mercer swings his arm in her direction but I grab it and kick him hard, sending him against the far corner. I bend forward to steal my revolver from black mask’s holster and I point it at his lowered head.
I pull the trigger and his body topples to the floor next to Dani. My ears ring in the small space but I can still hear her whimper in fear.
Mercer grabs her by the hair and pulls her out of the corner before I can reach her. I point my gun at him, touching it to his temple while he settles his own against her head.
“Dani, close your eyes,” I tell her.
Mercer jerks her head up. “No, keep them open. You have a right to see this.” He smirks at me. “Go ahead. Show her how much of a killer you are.”
“She’s already seen it,” I argue.
“But she’s never seen that twinkle you get in your eye when you do it,” he chuckles. “Go on. Shoot me, Fox. Show her how much you really enjoy it.”
I catch it out of the corner of my eye; that faint glimmer of metal in her hands as she pulls the bowie knife free of my ankle holster.
She stabs downward, piercing the top of his shoe. The blade slides inside and Mercer cries out in pain, dropping his grip on Dani. I take her arm and pull her to her feet before pushing her outside onto the roof.
Mercer pulls the knife from his shoe and spins around with his weapon drawn.
He points it at Dani.
I leap towards her and knock her out of the way. The bullet strikes my shoulder and fresh pain spreads throughout my body.
“No!” she screams out as I fall to my knees.
I turn back around, driven by adrenaline, and I catch the smirk on Mercer’s lips. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, black device. It fits snug in his palm and he lays his thumb against a smooth, round button at its tip.
A detonator.
The elevator doors close on his smiling face.
“Fox!” Dani falls to her knees next to me. I look around her and catch sight of the helicopter.
“We have to get off the roof.” I push myself up and stuff my revolver inside my belt.
“Wait — you’re hurt—”
“It can wait!” I ignore the blood rolling off my fingertips and rush to the helicopter windows.
“Do you know how to fly it?”
I ignore the question and slide the door open. “Shit…”
There it is. A rectangular, black case with the Snake Eyes cobra etched in white on its surface.
“What is it?” Dani asks, peeking over my shoulders.
“A bomb.”
“A what?!”
I grab her hand and pull her with me to the far corner of the roof. Mercer won’t detonate it while he’s still in the elevator. He’ll wait until he gets to the lobby to do it, which gives me only a few more seconds to—
I spot the lanterns hanging between the towers, connected by thick wires.
“We have to zip-line across.”
Dani’s jaw drops. “You can’t be serious!”
I pull my jacket off, forcing myself to move through the pain radiating through my shoulder. “You’ve done it before, Dani.”
“Umm… no, I haven’t!”
“Yes, you have! Remember?” I sit down on the building’s edge next to the nearest wire and twist my jacket into a taut rope around it. “The big climactic chase scene in Night Trials, Part 2?”
“That was a stunt girl!”
“Dani—” I grab her hand and pull her down to me, forcing her to straddle my waist. “Just hold on to me and don’t let go.”
“Oh, fuck…” she whispers, wrapping her arms and legs around me.
“Dani, it’ll be okay—”
She buries her face in my red shoulder. “Oh, fuck fuck—”
“Don’t look down.” I say it to myself more than her before sliding off the building’s edge.
As we hit the air, the helicopter explodes.
Dani shrieks and her nails pierce my skin. My entire body seethes with pain. The gunshot wound threatens to drop us both to the ground but I hold on tighter, focusing on her life in my hands.
The explosive force fires across to the next building, knocking into the large lanterns as we go. I brace for impact against the glass and twist around so my back hits it first instead of hers.
We crash through the window and my hands give up their grip. We tumble onto the floor as glass shards slice along my back.
“Fox!”
She screams my name but I can barely hear it. Her head is silhouetted by a raging fire. Flame and smoke fill the sky above the other tower and innocent screams echo from the ground below us.
“Fox!”
“Dani…”
She pulls at me, urging me to get up. I see the red smear on her face and I reach out to her. “You’re bleeding…”
“I think it’s yours,” she says, wiping it off her cheek.
“Oh, okay…” I settle back against the floor.
“Fox, come on!”
I glance around the empty hotel room. It’s almost an exact mirror image of Boxcar’s room. I guess that’s how these twin buildings were designed—
“Fox!”
I blink out of my trance. “I’m okay.” I sit up slowly, expecting to feel pain but I guess I’ve gone numb. “Are you hurt?”
“A little,” she says, her eyes still locked on me.
I turn over onto my knees and stand straight up. “Come on…”
She follows me out into the hallway. “Fox…”
My knees buckle and I lean on the wall with one hand. “We need to get moving…” I look at the ugly wallpaper and try to ignore the red trails my fingers leave behind.
“Fox, stop.” Dani takes my arm and I put my back to the wall.
“I’m all right—”
“You took a bullet for me.” She stares back at me with those breathtaking eyes.
“You’re surprised?” I ask.
Her hands rise to my cheeks and she leans in close. She presses her lips against mine, pursing ever so slightly into a soft kiss. Those little blue eyes shake in her head as she pulls away.
“Come on,” I say, pushing off the wall. She settles herself beneath my arm but I refuse to lean on her as much as I probably should.
We board the elevator and she leads me through the panicked lobby of alarms and shouting voices. We make it outside and she pulls me towards the car in the parking lot, far away from the screaming fire engines and flashing ambulances.
“Where are the keys?” she asks me.
“I’ll drive.”
“Just give me the damn keys, Fox.” She leans me against the passenger side as she roots through my pockets.
There’s no arguing with her tone. Not that I have the strength to even try at this point. I can barely feel my toes. I’m beginning to wonder if they’re even there at all anymore.
Dani pulls the door open and lowers me inside. I lay back and take several deep breaths. Pain increases on me now, vibrating every nerve with each stabbing breath I take.
&n
bsp; “Where do we go?” she asks. “A hospital?”
I look over and she’s sitting in the driver’s seat with her hands on the wheel. “No,” I groan. “They’ll find us.”
“Then where?”
My vision blurs. Nausea hits me. “Iowa City.”
“Iowa City?”
I point out the window. “Get on 80 and head east.”
“What’s in Iowa City?”
I lean back in the seat. “Someone that can help.”
“Isn’t that really far?”
“I’ll be all right, Dani.” I force my neck to bend so I can look at her. “Just start driving.”
She keeps her eyes on me for several moments. “Please don’t die on me, Fox.”
My lips curl. “This?” I hold up a blood-covered hand. “This is nothing.”
She doesn’t believe me but she laughs anyway. Good.
If her smile is the last thing I ever see, I’ll die a happy man.
Chapter 14
Dani
Please don’t die, Fox.
Not again.
It’s impossible for me to guess how many times those words have run through my head so far. Ten hours on the road, speeding through fucking Nebraska of all places, and he’s still with me, breathing so softly I have to put a finger beneath his nose to make sure he’s not dead.
I turn off the highway onto a dirt road, following the slurred instructions he gave me the last time he was lucid. You’ll go a mile or two and you’ll see a farmhouse with a rocking chair on the porch and a small cabin just off the driveway. There’s a dog, but he’ll be nice to you.
“Fox?” I nudge his arm, hoping I took the correct turn.
Finally, a house comes into view. It’s just like he described it would be. One story tall, white, with a smaller cabin. No dog in sight, though, but I spot the rocking chair. I check the clock on the dash. It’s just after five in the morning. Hopefully, Barbara Clark is a morning person.
I park in the driveway and detach my seatbelt. “Fox?” He doesn’t move. I force the tears down and step outside into the driveway. “Come on, Fox…” I pull open his door and tap his face to wake up him. His eyes flutter open and I breathe a sigh of relief. He falls forward and I let him lean into me as we stand him up. I carry us across the drive with heavy feet and knock on the front door. “Hello?” I cry out. I knock again, struggling to hold him steady.
The door opens and an elderly woman stares at me through the screen door, along with a large husky dog attached to her hip.
“Are you Barbara Clark?” I ask her.
She studies my face with a raised brow. “Are you Roxie Roberts?”
I breathe a laugh. “Yeah.”
Her eyes fall on Fox and she pushes the screen door open. “Bring him in,” she says.
I carry him inside, feeling his weight increase on my shoulder with each step.
“Put him on the table.” She passes through the dining room towards the back of the house while I slide him down onto a thick, wooden dinner table. “Take his clothes off, honey,” she calls from the other room.
I hesitate for a moment, feeling a sting of embarrassment before obeying with trembling fingers. He shifts slowly with the movements, somehow aware of his surroundings as I peel the layers off. His lips split with hisses of pain, especially when I manage to get his shirt off his shredded back. The dog lingers near my feet, his senses on full alert with his tail wagging back and forth, but he shows no hostility towards me.
My eyes fall to the cobra tattoo and I can’t help but touch the dark, black ink again. His skin feels so cold and hard like he’s already dead.
I keep moving, ignoring my swelling eyes. Each groan of pain from him brings the tears closer to the surface. I can barely look at his wrecked body and I somehow manage to keep my shit together. I slide his pants down to his ankles and the flash drive tumbles from his pocket onto the floor. I grab it and I pile his bloody clothes — everything but his boxers — beneath the table and wait for her to come back.
When she does, she carries a large bucket of warm water, several towels, a sewing kit, and a doctor bag that looks as old as she is. “Are you squeamish, dear?” she asks as she drops it all on the table.
“Probably,” I answer.
“You’ll get over that pretty quick.” She grins at me and then looks down at Fox. “Now, what’s he gone and got into now?”
My tongue twitches in my mouth. “I, uh…”
She leans over his shoulder. “That’s a gunshot wound…”
“Yeah.”
“Help me roll him onto his side.” She scoots her hands behind his back and waits for me to reach across him. I move with my eyes on her, following her nods of approval until I grip his side. “Just like that,” she says.
I pull him up and I try not to watch the grimace spreading across his lips.
“Oh, goody!” she calls. “An exit wound. That’s what I like to see. Hold him steady for me.” I keep my hands on his side as she opens her doctor bag.
“You sound… excited,” I note.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve treated one of these…” she mutters.
“You’re a doctor?”
“Retired nurse.”
I look at Fox’s face as so many unanswered questions plague my mind. Who the hell is this woman and how does Fox know her? Why did we drive over seven hundred miles to get here when we passed dozens of hospitals on the way? What the hell is this place?
She wets a towel to clear the blood off his skin. “Do you pluck?”
I blink. “Do I what?”
“Pluck — your eyebrows.”
I nod with confusion. “Yes.”
She gestures me around the table to stand beside her and she hands me a pair of large, metal tweezers. “He has a few pieces of glass in his back. See what you can do.”
I stand over him, completely frozen, trying to figure out if I heard her correctly. My eyes fall to his back and I see the small shards sticking out along his spine. I cringe. He had them in him this whole time.
“It’s just like plucking eyebrows?” I ask.
“Pretty much.” She reaches into the doctor bag and slides a bottle of whiskey at me.
“And what’s this for?”
“You drink it, honey.”
I twist the cap off and pour a large portion down my throat.
***
“Dani?”
I open my eyes and lift my head off the arm of the sofa. The woman shakes my shoulder again, pulling me out of sleep with a blue and white teacup in her other hand.
“Here, honey,” she says, offering it to me.
I sit up and take the cup from her. “Thank you.” The fragrant tea fills my nose with a steady, warm aroma. I look up and I see Fox lying there on the table in front of me with his eyes still closed, his body bruised and bandaged. “Is he okay?” I ask, my voice cracking.
She sits down next to me on the love seat. “He’s a tough son-of-a-bitch,” she muses. “He was talking a few minute ago.”
“He was?”
She nods. “Kept saying your name. Dani, Dani… I told him you were fine and he passed out again.”
I take a sip from the cup. The hot tea shoots through my body and I realize how cold I am. I look at Fox, nearly naked on the table. “We should get him some clothes. Do you have anything?”
“Should be some in his room.”
I pause. “His room?” She points to the window behind me and I look out to see the cabin across the driveway. “He lives here?”
“For the last six months now.” She nods slowly, her eyes lingering on his face. “Just walked up to my door one day with the local paper in his hand and my ad circled in red. My husband, Larry, died early last year and I was looking for someone to help out around here. He and I lived on this land over fifty years together.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“That’s all right, dear.” She smiles. “I knew there was something special about Fox the mo
ment he stepped inside. Good kid but he had that sad face on him. He offered to pay a little more in rent if I’d keep quiet if someone came around asking about him.” She chuckles. “I asked him if he planned on killing me in my sleep and he said no.”
I laugh. “I guess that’s why you weren’t surprised when he showed up at your door covered in blood.”
“Not really.” She looks at me. “Now, him showing up covered in blood with a big movie star under his arm… that’s a little surprising.”
“I can imagine…” I watch his chest rise and fall with his breath.
She eyes the stitches on my cheek. “He rushed out of here a few days ago after he saw the news. I guess that makes sense now, too.”
“He’s my stepbrother,” I explain.
She hums softly and sits back against the cushion. “The plot thickens…”
I chuckle and set the teacup down. “I’m going to go find him some clothes.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Thank you.”
I step outside and tears instantly invade my cheeks. My heart lurches in my chest, so utterly thankful I could scream.
He’s alive.
He didn’t die.
I lean against the banister and fill my lungs with fresh, Iowa air. It smells so different than the city. No smog, no chemicals. Just life. It makes sense why Fox chose this place to play dead.
I wipe my eyes and walk across the driveway towards the cabin.
My first instinct is to knock even though I know there’s no one inside. The air is dark and cold but I can smell him as soon I step inside. The cabin is small. Just one room with a kitchenette in the corner and bed in the other, but I imagine he found great appeal in the simplicity of it all. Fox never needed much, even back when we were teens. I remember the look on his face the day he and his mother moved into our home in the Hills. Big eyes. An open jaw. But he never really embraced it. It never felt like home for him.
I sit down on his bed. The sheets are tucked in tight, most likely a habit he picked up back in his army days. He certainly never did this when he lived back home.
Home. There’s that word again.
I hold his pillow against my nose and inhale deeply.
This is his home now. The one he chose instead of me.