Mint Juleps and Justice

by Nancy Naigle

  “It is not…always about you. Damn it. I’m in control now,” he growled. “You hear me?”

  He glared at her. “Do you hear me?”

  She flinched in response to his booming voice. “Yes, yes. I hear you.” She shook beads from her shirt and lap, scrambling for a way to react. “You’re acting crazy, and you’re scaring me.” How could she get control of this situation? He was bigger, madder, out of control, but she was smart. Think, Brooke, think. She lowered her voice, trying to sound calm. “Will you please take me home?”

  “This is the way home now, Princess.”

  “It is not.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You can’t do this.”

  “Who’s going to stop me?” He took his eyes off the road and looked her right in the face. “Tell me, Brooke. Who? Who do you see stopping me?”

  Their eyes locked. He was right. She didn’t have any control.

  He mashed the accelerator, and never bothered to take his eyes off her.

  “Stop. You’re going to crash into those cars in front of us!”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. Not one more word out of you. Not one.” He jerked the wheel and whipped around a light-colored Mazda.

  “I hate you,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

  He jerked the steering wheel, swerving from the left lane to the right shoulder of the interstate. “Fine. Forget it. Have it your way.”

  She clutched the door and braced herself as they careened toward the embankment. There wouldn’t be much protection in her fiberglass car. The way he’d swerved across the lanes someone might think a tire had blown out. Maybe someone would stop to help, or better, call the police.

  The car slid through the damp grass and stopped just off the road.

  He turned off the headlights. “Get. Out. Of. The. Car.”

  Words swam around just out of reach.

  “NOW!”

  The cars that were ahead of them were out of sight now. Traffic seemed to have disappeared with Keith’s sanity. “Please don’t. It…it doesn’t have to be like this.” Her only hope now was to get back to a public place where someone might be able to help her. How she wished she’d realized now how crazy Keith was. Why had she been so hard to convince he might put her in real danger? If she’d taken it more seriously before, this may not have happened, but now…that was looking pretty foolish. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

  “We are somewhere, and I’m tired of your talking. Yap, yap, yap, nothing but nonsense.” He snatched the keys from the ignition and bailed out of the car.

  She unclicked her seat belt and lurched forward, grabbing for the keys she’d stuck under the seat earlier at the gas station. Some miracle, or maybe the praying mantis after all, allowed her to grab them on the first sweep. She threw her body across the console toward the driver’s seat and pushed the key into the ignition, turning it. The motor roared, but she heard the key unlocking the door behind her.

  Brooke grabbed the steering wheel. Sprawled across the leather bucket seats she pulled herself to get behind the wheel, but Keith opened the door and grabbed her foot. He tugged her with such force, she slammed against the shifter, moving it into neutral. The car began to roll down the slope of the shoulder.

  “Stop it, Brooke.”

  She kicked, but his hold on her was stronger. There was a loud snap. Agony flared through her body.

  “Damn it, girl,” he grunted as he dragged her out of the car by the leg.

  Her butt slammed the ground and the empty car continued to roll down the emergency lane.

  Keith lifted her to her feet and shoved her forward. She screamed out. The pain in her foot and ankle stole the air from her lungs.

  “Why did you have to make things worse? I love you. I bought you that stupid Lincoln-Log house you always wanted so bad.”

  “Buying a house is not love.” She winced. “My ankle. Can’t you see I’m hurt?” She lifted her foot in the air and dropped her head back, praying for relief.

  “We were going to have a nice reunion. I had it all planned. Even bought that champagne you like. But no, you had to ruin it.” He glared in her direction. “Damn you. I’m not giving you up.”

  She was no match for Keith’s strength. She wasn’t going to outrun him on this bad ankle either. She needed to be in survivor mode. Outwit. Outsmart. Outlast. His breathing was loud, and he kept cussing under his breath.

  “You’re right. It was good once.” She spoke slowly. Trying to appear calm, she swept a bead of sweat from her lip. Glittery spots spun in her line of sight. Don’t pass out. Between the pain and the fear, she didn’t know which was worse, but she couldn’t pass out. She had to fight back. Breathe. “We can fix this. Give me another chance.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Brooke stood on her good leg like a flamingo, wishing the throbbing in her ankle would dull. The charade might work. She swallowed hard and continued. “Keith. We loved each other. It shouldn’t be like this.”

  “You’re not going to make me look like a fool. Not twice. It ends here.”

  Brooke watched the dark cloud veil his normally bright brown eyes. “You’re scaring me.”

  “You should be scared. You ruined everything. I gave us a second chance and you blew it.” He shoved her forward.

  She limped, trying to minimize the pain, but then she tripped over a branch and hit the ground on all fours.

  “Damn you,” he sneered, dragging her to her feet by her arm. “Quit stalling.”

  “I’m hurt.” She wasn’t sure where the injuries were anymore. The pain spiked up her leg to her neck and she felt the warm trickle of blood down her shin. Keith pushed and prodded her. She slid in the slick grass. Finally, the ground leveled as they reached the tree line at the bottom of the slope. Brooke leaned back against a tall pine, pausing to catch her breath. She squeezed at the stitch in her side.

  In one swoop Keith lifted her with one strong arm, scraping her back along the rough bark of the tree, balancing her crotch on his knee. Her feet dangled above the ground.

  Something glistened in the moonlight. He has a knife?

  “Heeeeeeelp! Let me go.” Brooke wiggled, trying to throw herself off-balance from where he had her perched.

  He pushed the back of his hand against her mouth; her teeth sliced her lip. She tasted the salty blood. Pulling back just a little, she bit into the fleshy mound of his hand. Then screamed for help again.

  “Damn.” He pulled back. “You bit me, you bitch.” He waved the knife in front of her face, resting the hand with the sharp blade on the tree just above her head. “Shut…up,” Keith enunciated each word.

  “No-oo-oo.” Her eyes followed the blade.

  “QUI-ET! SH—SHH.” His hot breath sent a spray of spit across her face. He shook her. The bark scraped her shoulder and she felt the sting of blood oozing through her blouse.

  “Please,” Brooke squeaked out, barely able to swallow. “You’ve made your point. You were right,” she panted. “I messed up.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “I was j-j-just jealous,” she lied in desperation. Outsmart.

  Keith flashed a smile. For an instant she felt hope, but then he pushed his knee up harder against her crotch. Pinned tight, she couldn’t move. Keith laughed. The sound echoed through her brain. A sound she would never forget.

  “You must really think I’m a fool to believe you want me back now.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about what I want. I’ll have what I want.” He flipped the knife between the buttons of her blouse, revealing her lacy bra.

  Brooke turned her face away, squeezing her eyes tight.

  He bent toward her. His teeth scraped a line down the inside of her neck. The bristle of his chin burned her skin. He bit down on the stret
chy elastic of her bra strap and tugged. Snap. She flinched as the elastic stung her skin.

  He straightened his knee, and she crumbled to his feet in the unexpected release, striking her head on something on the way down. A sharp pain. The sky seemed to spin. She tensed, waiting for another strike. He loomed above her.

  Brooke scrambled along the ground. Something dug into her leg as she tried to get to her feet. If he was going to kill her she wasn’t going to make it easy. Her fingers trembled as she wrapped her hands around a small branch. She took a breath and lunged forward.

  He leaped back, cursing her. She grabbed for a branch to stand, but he seized her by the shirt and then wrapped her hair in his hand with a twist, tugging her backside against him. “Where d’ya think you’re going?”

  His breath burned hot on her ear. Her shoulders lifted, protecting herself from his words. She felt him hard against her. Relax. Don’t tempt him in this state of adrenaline, or he is going to kill you.

  He pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck and leaving a damp trail behind. Was he crying or sweating? “You’re hurting me,” she whispered. “My hair—please…”

  He eased his grip. “I never wanted to. I love you.” He pulled his hands away and she dropped to the ground. She landed on her stomach, all the air evacuating her diaphragm, leaving her gasping for oxygen against the screaming pain in her chest. She lifted her eyes and saw the tear run down his face. Outlast.

  He swept the tear away and kicked her once in the shoulder before turning away.

  “Ow.” She rolled away. The knife lay on the ground just to her right. She wrapped her hands around it. The handle slipped in her sweaty palm. She stood, concealing the knife by holding it tight against her leg. “Then don’t. Please, don’t hurt me.” Tears slid down her cheeks, pooling in the crease of her mouth. “Let me go. I promise I won’t tell.” Her eyes pleaded, her voice small compared to the girl who was fighting so hard just minutes before.

  “I don’t know.” His free hand stroked nervously through his thin hair. “I need to think.” He passed a hand over his mouth and eyes and hung his head.

  Outlast. She lunged forward. The sharp blade plunged into his flesh. It was her only chance to outrun him. She didn’t even stop to see his reaction, but ran as hard and fast as she could on the one good ankle, back in the direction of the car. She slipped, but clawed at the ground to right herself. He called her name from behind her. Getting closer.

  She ducked behind some brush. She lay on the ground, tucking herself into a small area, hopefully hidden. Afraid to lift her head, she pulled her knees in tighter and fought the urge to run again. He was close. Help me, God. Bracing herself for the worst, she pulled her arms up, shielding her face and covering her ears. She waited.

  Only the whoosh of her own blood and pulse hummed under her palms, and then the sound of a heavy thud against the ground vibrated beneath her.

  “Brooke.” A warm hand landed on her shoulder. She squeezed her eyes closed tighter, tensing for a blow, but nothing happened. She heard her name a second time. It didn’t sound crazed or angry, but the words weren’t clear. Then a light. Is this the light you see when you die?

  Someone knelt beside her. She cowered, still, praying there’d be no more pain. Light washed over her. She held her breath.

  “Brooke. It’s me, Mike.” He pulled her closer. “Brooke, look at me. You’re safe.”

  She shivered and clung to the warmth of the safety he offered. It was a long moment before she dared open her eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Talk to me. Are you hurt?” Mike tipped her face toward him.

  She opened her eyes, but she seemed confused. “I think so,” she answered in barely a whisper. “It was him.”

  He swept his penlight over her, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and folded it into a tight, thick square. “Here.” He placed it over the gash on her forehead. “Hold that tight.”

  She held it in place, but her hand shook.

  Keith was unconscious a few feet away, cuffed ankle to wrist. The reflex instincts from the special ops maneuvers had come in handy. One swift move and Keith, who probably outweighed him by a good fifty pounds, had gone down. “You’re safe now, Brooke.”

  “He was going to kill me.” She seemed unable to shift her focus off her ex-husband lying there in a heap. “He could have.”

  “But he didn’t. I’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.” He ran his hand across her back in an effort to slow her breathing down. “I’ve got you.” His heart clenched at the sight of her.

  “Why?”

  He turned her face away from Keith. “Don’t try to make sense of it.” But he knew how that question could consume you. He’d been there, and even though he’d been in life-and-death situations, and done his share of rescues, an unexpected burst of emotion had overcome him when he’d seen Keith grab Brooke at the gas station. He wasn’t even sure what had turned his attention to the gas pumps, but he had and in that instant it was like someone had just delivered a shock from a defibrillator to his heart.

  His heart raced, maxing out just like the car as he sped to catch them. Watching and praying, he didn’t even bother with a safe distance. He knew he needed to be close enough to step in. If he hadn’t gotten caught behind that tanker truck he’d have been there even sooner. Thank goodness Keith had left the car along the side of the road. If he hadn’t, he’d have lost them completely, and Brooke would have been in an even more dangerous position.

  He watched her for a moment, wishing he could erase it for her. This kind of stuff didn’t go away so easy, though.

  “I won’t ever let him bother you again,” he said, realizing at that instant that he was about to break his number one rule: Don’t let it get personal. What he was feeling didn’t feel a bit like business, and he damn sure couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.

  It wasn’t about the rescue. This time it was about the girl.

  It had taken every ounce of his strength not to kill the sorry bastard. He had the skill to do it swiftly, and he could have done it and left with no one knowing the better. But he’d called Sheriff Calvin instead to get them involved as soon as he’d seen trouble brewing. Maybe he’d done it to keep himself from killing the guy.

  Brooke sobbed in his arms, gulping loudly for air.

  He leaned his head down against hers. “You’re safe.” He stroked her cheek and held her for a moment, then hit redial on his phone and gave Sheriff Calvin his location and the update. He snapped the phone shut. “Medics are on the way.”

  She tipped her tear-stained face up toward his, her lips trembling. “Thank you.”

  Mike leaned in, trying to warm her with his own body. She looked fragile. Her face was dirty beneath a tangle of hair and mascara stained her cheeks. Something touched him bone deep that wouldn’t allow him to take his eyes off her.

  Sirens suddenly filled the heavy evening air.

  Unable to resist the pull, he took her soft, swollen lips into his in a kiss.

  For a fraction of a second she struggled in his arms. He began to pull away, controlling his own need at that moment, but as he retreated, she returned the kiss and relaxed into the safety of his arms. The kiss went on until the sound of footsteps made them pull apart.

  Equipment rattled as rescue workers flooded the area.

  A woman EMT wrapped a white sheet around Brooke’s body, covering where her clothes had ripped. Mike knew it was more an emotional barrier than for the exposed skin. They strapped Brooke to a gurney and made their way back up the embankment to the ambulance.

  Mike spotted Sheriff Calvin over by the emergency vehicles that now lined the highway. Blue lights flashed, bouncing off each other like a disco.

  Sheriff Calvin watched as one of his men re-cuffed Keith for transport.

  Keith spat on the ground, cursing and complaining the whole
time. “Y’all think you’re so smart. This is not over. It was just a little domestic. We’re married. She’ll never press charges.” The officers pushed Keith down into the backseat of the police car. “You’re wasting your time. I’m telling you. She loves me.”

  “Sure she does,” Sheriff Calvin said as he headed toward Mike. He handed his cuffs back and shook his hand. “Good job.”

  Mike nodded toward the police car. “All by the book, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. No loopholes. He’s toast.”

  “Good deal.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “Makes you wonder how people get to that point in a relationship. She’s filed several reports, but we’ve never been able to help her. Glad she got you involved.”

  Mike extended his hand. “Thanks for the support. I wasn’t sure if an investigator was going to be welcomed into your community.”

  “I’ll admit I was a skeptic at first. I wasn’t sure how I felt about some civilian coming in here and hanging out a shingle, but I’m always happy for good help. And any friend of Von gets an instant checkmark in my book.” He nodded toward the ambulance. “I just talked to the medics. She’s pretty banged up. They’re taking her in to check for broken bones, and make sure there’s no internal damage.”

  Mike’s focus was across the way, where Brooke was being lifted into the ambulance. “I’m going to check on her one last time.” He didn’t bother to wait for a comment from the sheriff, breaking into a jog. By the time he got to the ambulance, they were getting ready to close the door.

  “Can I have one second?” he asked the EMT.

  “Sure.” The EMT pulled the door back open and Mike leaned into the back of the unit. “Hey, Brooke. I’ll check in on you, okay?”

  She nodded. Tears stained her cheeks, and a contusion had already started blooming on her cheek, making her appear even more fragile under the bright lights. Still pretty though.

  “Thank you for being here,” she said through the tears.