Blood and Guts - Left for Dead: A Romantic Suspense

by Gabi Moore

  Steadying my stance regardless of the coming weapon, I fired my shot straight at the temple of the man in the passenger side window. An explosion fired off, but the shot was unsteady. Instead of taking a direct hit, I am only clipped once in the arm, while buckshot tears through the air over my left shoulder.

  I allow myself to go down, but immediately push myself further into action.

  “MOVE ADEN!” I groan, turning my pain into launching yet another arrow into the open passenger window.

  I hear a gurgle, and the car rolls forward, steering dangerously toward my side of the road. I leave my position by the side of the road, and sprint forward to the driver’s side of the vehicle. The door is open, and the driver’s body is trailing outward on the ground. The body of the passenger is bleeding out on top of the driver. He is not quite dead, and tries to lift the weapon up toward me once more. He falls short, and it's clear that he doesn’t have the strength left in his body to manage that basic motion. I pull the two of them out onto the street with a yank, and hop into the seat of the car.

  I slam the car into reverse, and check in the review mirror to see the body of Lorin appear from cover.

  She is rushing over in my direction when I hear another shot fired, and see her dive to the ground. The car skids backward through the snow, sheltering her from the other dead car on the passenger side of the vehicle I have stolen. I unlock the car, open the door, and look through the passenger window all in the same movement.

  The trucker has gotten out of his cab, and is pointing a mean looking weapon at a man who is now bleeding out over the hood of the immobile black SUV. I pause a moment. Then, I realize that the man on the hood of the SUV was preparing to fire at Lorin, and was cut short by the perceptive truck driver.

  I know that this man will not have it easy when law enforcement comes. At the least, he will at least have his story, and plenty of evidence to support his claims.

  My boots hit the snow, and I open up the rear driver’s side door. Without thinking, I pick Lorin up, and shove her face first into the car. She is still breathing, but she’s scared - which I can deal with.

  Moving quickly, I hop into the driver’s seat once more, and move southeast on the highway.

  We are fucked either way you spin it.

  The only real advantage we have at this point is the fact that we are in relative isolation this far out into the woods. The police response time will be as quick as possible, but it was not quick enough to prevent the killings.

  As the car speeds down the highway, away from the incident, I contemplate whether or not it would be best to ditch Lorin. The police might take her in and protect her. I might be able to escape the limbo of incarceration and questioning as well, if I played my cards right.

  My thoughts are a whirlwind, as I try to piece together my next move. All the while, my arm aches, and my body is still recoiling from adrenal overload. Training prepares you for events like this, but hiding away in the forest had left me less resilient than I would have liked.

  I knew that the next decisions in this game would be mine to make. I grit my teeth, and commanded my attention toward the road.

  Chapter 12 - Aden

  “Thank God that trucker was there, otherwise you’d be bleeding out in that meadow.”

  The statement is actually intended to assess the damage, but I’m trying to be a bit more subtle in my communication. I need to get some information out from this girl, and I need it fast.

  She’s hyperventilating and can’t seem to collect herself enough to think straight. When I picked her up, I took a quick look at her body and did not see any blood. I don’t think she actually got hurt, but I don’t have the energy or will to be abrasive about the whole situation. Sometimes, a bit of compassion is actually in order, even if the person in question is being overdramatic.

  “I’m fine,” she finally gasps.

  I nod, knowing this much, but not wanting to diminish her sense of bravery or personal victory. If she can build up some strength in that department, I think she’ll benefit by the time this is all over for her.

  “Look, in a legal situation, it doesn’t really matter whether I was protecting you or not. Whenever violence ends up spilling out into the public view like that, people get outraged.”

  “More than usual?”

  “Absolutely. A private kill is tolerable, as it is often nothing more than a news story about a body, and a bit of detective work. Once violence spills out into the public domain, everybody has to worry about whether or not they are going to be next. The injection of violence into the public view threatens the concept of an ‘us’ and ‘them’ mentality. The line is blurred, and people demand accountability and protection.”

  “So, what are you saying? “

  “The police have no choice but to respond to this in as flamboyant manner possible.”

  “Flamboyant?”

  “They’ll need to put on a show, so I need to know now… are you going to play along, or not?”

  She was silent for a moment, but she must have sensed the urgency in my tone, because she spoke up swiftly afterward.

  “I can’t go to the police.”

  “Why?”

  “If I do, then I’m afraid that some people I care deeply about are going to get hurt.”

  “You had better be sure about that decision.”

  She nodded, while I sized her up in the rear view mirror.

  “I’m sure. I knew from the beginning that I wasn’t going to be able to go to the police, and I don’t expect that I’ll feel any differently any time soon.”

  I stopped the inquiry and focused on my driving. My hands were at two and ten, and my seatbelt was on. I weighed the repercussions of charging off road and down into the canyon below. Then, I saw the Highway Patrol car flying up the pass off in the distance. They were on the far side of a hairpin curve. The lights were flashing, and they were navigating the turns with expert precision.

  I realized at that moment that there was no way for me to outmaneuver them. The only sensible thing for me to do was to pull over, and turn her in.

  I wasn’t looking forward to any jail time, but the whole ordeal would be more of a hassle than anything else. All of the evidence would lead toward me defending myself, my property, and the woman. She may have had to deal with repercussions if she went to the police. She would continue to have more problems than she could deal with if we continued forward, business as usual.

  I made the decision to pull over to the side of the road.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, nervous anxiety in her voice.

  I turned to look at her, and aimed the shotgun in her direction. She froze, scared as hell, and completely speechless.

  “You’re going to stay where you are at, and you’re going to be quiet. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “When the police come, you’re going to go with them, because that is the best option you have to remain alive. I’m going to go through some shit for you, and the reason I’m going to do that is because at least you will be in some kind of safety.”

  “I told you, I can’t go to the police, it won’t be safe.”

  “They have witness protection programs. You haven’t told me anything meaningful. I’m sure you can share everything you like with them or nothing at all — the point is, I’m done with you. Pulling over is the best way to bring this thing to a close.”

  The sirens approached, and I remained calm, facing the back seat, holding the weapon in my hand.

  One, two, three police cars sped past our position, roaring up the highway toward the place where the other black SUV waited.

  My attention was gone for a second, then I heard her bolt for the back door of the car. Just in time, I slammed my hand down on the lock, put the car in gear, and then drove away.

  “Let me out!” she screamed, hitting the back of my chair with her hand.

  I took a deep breath, and focused on the road. This new turn of events was
more than I had anticipated. If the police officers weren’t aware that there were two identical SUVs in the initial accident, they soon would be. The fact that they didn't stop on the way up toward the site of the accident meant that I might still have some time to move out, or get to safety.

  The impulse to pull over and kick her out of the car only increased while she continued to hit the back of my head. She was irritating as hell, and I was contemplating the ethical consequences of throwing her out the car door. I verbalized my thoughts just to give them the respect they deserved.

  “If I stranded you out here, you would be better off than when you were tied naked to that maple. Is that what you want?”

  She stopped hitting me.

  I shook my head and stared forward at the road, managing each of the turns in sequence until we had made it another solid fourteen miles. I turned off the highway onto an unmarked country road. The direction was solid. Though the road didn’t have a name, there were sufficient track marks on the road to indicate that it wasn’t abandoned by any stretch.

  With a nearly full gas gage, and a bit of an intuitive sense of direction, I was feeling confident that we could reach the coast by the early morning. We’d have to ditch the car at that point. If the trucker was bold enough to take a shot at someone while they were busy targeting an unarmed woman, he might just be bold enough to lie to police. I could only hope that he might delay their investigation. Of course, I couldn’t count on anything so brazen from someone who had no investment in the whole thing.

  The only reason I was involved at this point was because I had been caught up in the unfortunate consequences of the whole thing.

  “Can you drive?”

  “Of course I can drive, I’m a New York bitch, remember?”

  “Bitter like one too,” I say, under my breath.

  I pull over for a minute on the road, but don’t bother to turn off the ignition. I climb over the center console, and sit in the passenger seat. My arm is killing me. The blood is severe enough to where I’ve been all right until this point, but any longer and I’d probably be pushing my luck. When I’m in the passenger’s seat, I take a knife from my belt. Then, I rip off a section of my undershirt, all the way around my body. Once the strip of cloth is off of my body, I tie it around the wound, applying pressure by using my teeth on the cloth.

  “Take this road through those hills straight ahead. Don’t fuck around, and don’t turn around. You don’t want to be involved with police for whatever reasons — that’s fine. Following this road is the best way forward, but you need to do what I say now.”

  “What if I don’t?” she asked, still obviously holding contempt for me.

  Shaking my head, I leaned over her body, opened the driver’s side door, and shoved her out into the snow. Obviously, she wasn’t expecting that kind of treatment, and she let out a shriek of protest. While she was cursing me, I shut the door, and switched on the lock once more. Then, I relaxed in the passenger’s seat, closing my eyes for a minute.

  She banged on the window, and then stopped.

  I turned around to see that she had disappeared from view. When she came back, she had a rock the size of a gourd, and she was holding it above the front windshield.

  “Crazy bitch…” I laughed, smiling to myself.

  The smile caught her off guard and she paused right in the middle of her demonstration of wrath.

  She would do it. She really would fuck things up for the both of us if given half a chance. One might look at that sort of behavior, and interpret it as a liability, and they might be correct. When I saw her standing there, threatening to put that oversized pebble through the window of a stolen car, I saw someone with spirit. I saw someone with more attitude than I had given them credit for in our previous interactions. I actually felt a pang of remorse.

  I leaned back over and unlocked the car once more.

  She scowled at me, and then threw the rock down into the snow. Without another word, she got into the car, put the vehicle in gear and drove straight into the forest down the road.

  The exercise was dangerous, for sure. I had wasted precious minutes in a vulnerable position along the highway with barely sufficient cover. If a Highway Patrol car had come down the country road at that moment, we would have been out of luck. Somehow, that didn’t matter nearly as much as establishing an alliance.

  I was exhausted, wounded, and for the moment, out of ideas. I needed to be able to count on her to drive straight through the night without murdering me in my sleep. She also had to not expose our position, or taking matters into her own hands.

  “Keep driving through the forest ahead,” I instructed. “Don’t stop for anything. I need to get some sleep. Are we clear?”

  “You’re a tyrant.”

  “I’ve kept us alive so far, so I’d assume at the least you’d treat me like a benevolent dictator.”

  “Dick is right. I don’t know about the rest of it.”

  I closed my eyes, and let her have her moment. There was no need for me to do anything else, and I needed desperately to decompress. I tried to think about the worst-case scenario I might wake up to if I left this woman in charge of navigating my body through the night.

  I didn’t believe she would kill me, and I knew that she wanted to get as far away from the police as possible. All I could do was hope that she had a good enough head on her shoulders. I knew she was comfortable enough taking orders from someone else. I hoped that having demonstrated an ability to keep the two of us alive, she wouldn't betray me.

  My arm ached and I held my hand over my chest, applying pressure just above the wound. I would be able to take care of the bullet soon enough, but for now, I needed to relax. I focused on my breath, and allowed the weight of my body to sink into the upholstery of the car. The sound of the engine, and the steady hum of the tires soon became my lullaby.

  Chapter 13 - Lorin

  How could I ever tell him what we were really doing?

  The real reason why he got sucked into becoming my bodyguard, and the reason he took a bullet for me. If I had my way, he would give much more than that, but all of this intrigue could only move forward one step at a time.

  As I drove through the forest toward the Maine coast, I had a ton of time to think about my story. I had time to work through the layers of lies and inferences. My objective was to find out what he suspected of me, and how I was going to move forward after he recovered. The road facilitated all of the reflection I needed. On the simple one lane back road trail, I felt the first sense of calm, control since before the betrayal.

  Think, I commanded myself within the safety of my own mind. What is it he knows? You need to start there.

  Well, for one thing, he knows I’m from New York City. Whether or not that was a guess is irrelevant. Not only did he peg me for someone from the City, but he also pegged me for a high level marketer, which is also true. If he believes that I am nothing more than a Fashionista, then all the better. Somehow I don’t think he’s going to stop there.

  I think the biggest point of disturbance has to be with the information revealed at the cabin. The way that those men addressed him by name before they attacked. They knew him by name, and they knew where he lived; that sort of information doesn’t come cheaply. He had been doing everything possible to live off-grid. Of course, it wouldn’t be beyond their means.

  Ever since CONTEK had been awarded their US Military Contract, the funds had been endless. Nothing appeared to be outside of their capability.

  CONTEK was an umbrella company which included para-military contractors, and the latest tech gurus from silicon valley. The whole arrangement was tainted with an undertone of governmentally sanctioned covert psychological operations. The name of the game was a highly subversive form of para-military intelligence.

  Ryan Sclari was the president and CEO of CONTEK, and up until recently, was my most recent boyfriend. If you weren’t able to tell, the whole relationship ended up traveling a bit too far into the
whole BDSM scene for my own good. Truth is, he was as unstable as he was brilliant. The problem is that his brilliance ended up being the one thing that divided the company from being highly functional, to the point of abuse.

  My position within the whole arrangement was on the level of Marketing and Distribution. There were certain tasks that the US Government found to be more useful to outsource to a third party. Contracted force was always in demand; hence the paramilitary arm of CONTEK. If brute force could be outsourced, then surely intelligence gathering could be delegated as well.

  Ryan thought all of this was great. He used to laugh about it to himself in the early hours of the morning.

  “It’s so perfect…” he would say to himself while I was held bound in the toys he had installed in the dungeon of his mansion.

  In the haze of my memories, I thought he was talking about me. I was under the impression that he was actually giving me the approval I so desperately desired. The problem with dating a narcissist is that you yourself are often delusional and narcissistic. The fact that I was involved with him, and indulging in that kind of power relationship was symptomatic of our relationship dynamic.

  Sexually, he was in control. In the business relationship which preluded our sexual encounters, I held dominance. The key element of our operation was the hold that my company had within mass media. Exposure to media would catalyze his entire operation. I suppose, with additional years of effort, he would have been able to find another vector for distribution. With the way things are set up in our world, and the patience required, that would have been undesirable. Corporations are by definition monopolies, if they are powerful enough to be able to affect change in the way Ryan was trying to achieve.

  I paused a moment in my reflections and took a good look around me in the environment we were driving through. It was already early evening by that time, and Aden had been asleep for the entire ride. There were no outposts along the way that we could stop at. I knew that to stop would violate his terms and conditions, which in turn might end up exposing us to police attention. So, we didn’t stop — or at least I didn’t stop.