Red’s nana gets louder in the corner, but I can’t understand her. “Ryan, behind you!” Red cries.
I wheel around in time to see a thin man dressed in black just as he brings the butt of his gun down hard on my temple. My hands drop and my gun skitters under the couch as I fall to my knees and then the floor comes up to greet me. The world is a blur of noises and colors. I’m aware of the commotion around me but can’t move. My vision creeps smaller, the blackness around the edges pushing in further with every blink.
And then, it’s dark.
25
Red
It’s hot in the trunk. Even though it’s cool outside, my panic is making me sweat. I squirm sideways, trying to figure out where I’m supposed to kick to knock out the tail light. I know that’s a thing. At least I think I do. It’s hard to maneuver in here with my hands zap strapped behind me. I kick the back of the trunk, but my foot just thuds against the metal with a clunk.
I fucking missed.
The duct tape over my mouth makes it impossible to scream. It’s hard enough to breathe in here as it is. I need to focus. I need to knock out that light and stick my foot through. Then someone will see me and call the cops.
Like I should have.
Why didn’t I listen to Ryan? None of this would’ve happened if I just calmed down and dialed 911. I kick the trunk again, but it does nothing but hurt my foot.
My phone!
Do I still have it? I roll onto my side and the familiar shape pushes into me from inside my jacket. Is there any way I can slide my hands down under my feet? If I can get them in front of me I can rip this tape off my mouth and call.
I wriggle and try to use the limited space to contort myself like a pretzel as the strap digs into my wrist painfully. It pinches my flesh, scratching my skin as I writhe desperately, moving any way possible in an attempt to free myself.
The driving slows and Wolfe pulls off the main road. I can hear gravel crunching under the tires and cold fear sits like a block of ice in my belly. Wherever he’s trying to take me, we’re here. This is where he’s going to kill me.
Eventually.
I know he’ll make me beg for death long before he ever ends it. Terror makes my movements jerky and wild. I thrash like a fish on a line, desperately trying to fall back from my captor’s hands and swim free. My body is coated with sweat and snot is running down from my nose as tears streak my vision. I twist and try to kick as Wolfe lifts me out of the back, tossing me over his shoulder casually and walking me into a dingy motel block that’s seen its fair share of death.
Whether from murder, suicide, or junkies growing stiff while needles stand tall in their arms, the motel staff here have probably seen it all. They won’t even flinch when they find me.
No. I won’t let myself think like this! I’m not dead. Not yet anyway. I can’t give up.
Trying to scream, my voice is muffled by the tape and by the traffic. Anyone sleeping or watching a show on television would never be able to hear me. I kick my toes into Wolfe’s chest as hard as possible and try to roll off his shoulder, but he laughs at my pathetic attempts, easily holding me tight.
The lean, lanky man who snuck up on Ryan like a coward and left him unconscious and bleeding on my grandmother’s floor is right behind us. Wolfe opens the door and then turns toward the man I’ve never seen before.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“I, uh, was coming inside with you. I wanted to see you work.” His dead eyes glint at me.
“You ain’t watching shit. Go sit in the fucking car like I told ya. You keep a lookout for the cops or anything weird,” Wolfe demands.
The man’s eyes cloud with disappointment, but he knows better than to argue. He just mutters, “Fine.” He walks sullenly back to the car like he was told.
Wolfe carries me inside, plopping me down on the bed. He takes a peek out the window, peering past the dingy curtains before turning back to me with a satisfied smile.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d find you?” He leers at me and I try to fold over onto myself in an attempt to keep his eyes off me. “I bet you thought you were pretty fucking clever with that shit at the apartment, huh?” He slowly stalks toward me like a cat about to pounce a mouse.
“Please.” I try to say the word, but it comes out wrong.
I heave, crying so hard I might throw up. At first I try to push the sensation away, but knowing what Wolfe is likely to do to me, maybe I should try harder. If he takes this tape off my mouth, I’ll vomit all over him. But if he keeps it on, and this is what I’m hoping for, maybe I’ll choke to death. It’s not ideal, but it’s a hell of a better way to go than whatever the fuck he has planned.
“Look at me, you cunt.” He lunges at me and I try to burrow into the mattress to get away. Of course there’s no getting away. There’s no escape from him. Why did I ever try? I was so fucking stupid to think I could have more. That I could start over. That I had any business chasing stupid dreams and… love.
The thought brings fat tears to my eyes. They slide down my cheeks as Wolfe yanks me up to a sitting position by my hair. He stares into me and I see there’s nothing but pure hatred and evil in his eyes. How did I spend so much time ignoring the facts? Why didn’t I leave him sooner?
Would it have made any difference?
“Remember how you thought it was real cute to put your dirty fucking sock in my mouth? Wasn’t that a nice touch? You must have thought you were a real badass, huh? Fucking disrespecting me like that? Don’t worry, I’m gonna return the fucking favor as soon as I’m done using up every hole on your body, babe.”
I cry harder. I already knew he’d rape me. But somehow, hearing him say it out loud, it makes it all so real. I can’t believe this is happening.
“Except I’m not gonna use a dirty sock, Red. For you, I got a nice and filthy, oily rag to shove in your face. I’m gonna tape it in there and set it on fire,” he snarls. He pinches my cheeks hard between his finger and thumb. “I’m gonna enjoy watching this pretty fucking face melt off your skull.”
All I can do is cry louder, but my sobs do nothing. Wolfe pushes me down on the bed. My arms are painfully wrenched underneath me as he rips open my jeans. I close my eyes, turning my head to the side, and try to leave my body. I try to distance myself from what he’s about to do. I silently beg God to make this stop.
Bang! Bang!
Wolfe jumps up straight and my eyes dart over to the motel door. It isn’t knocking that we hear on the other side. It’s too heavy and hard to be that. But the thuds only grow louder as Wolfe springs from the bed and races over to the window.
Crack!
The distinctive fire of a gun goes off and someone starts screaming. Oh Lord, did the police find us? Please tell me I’m safe. Please tell me this nightmare is over.
“Fuck,” Wolfe growls and turns toward the door just as it bursts open off its rusty hinges and pieces of it explode into the room like a mini bomb went off.
Ryan rushes inside just as Wolfe grabs his pistol. The two of them stand off, face-to-face, guns pointed at each other’s heads. I can see the skinny man lying on the ground outside in a pool of his own blood. Is he dead?
I don’t care if he is. There’s only one thing I care about and it’s the man who just broke down a door to save me. And right now, there’s still a very good chance he’s going to die.
26
Ryan
I make a classic rookie mistake, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop my eyes from sliding over to the bed to see if she’s okay. Wolfe fires his weapon and the burning heat of a bullet slices into my right shoulder, dropping my arm to my side like an animal carcass hanging in a butcher shop.
“Mmm!” Red’s eyes are wide as she tries to scream. She shuffles to the edge of the bed, but I shake my head at her and she stops.
Luckily I didn’t drop my sig sauer. I lunge at Wolfe, trying to make it harder for him to pick me off like a kid with a BB gun and a string of tin cans. I rush him, head down, and catc
h him off guard as I thud into his gut and we both tumble over.
The searing pain in my shoulder really kicks in as blood spills out of me and drips off my leather jacket.
“Fuck you.” Wolfe’s lips pull back, exposing his yellowing teeth to me as he rolls me over and pins me to the floor.
Red doesn’t stop this time. She jumps off the bed and runs toward Wolfe. But he easily swats her away and she thumps to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Rage burns inside me stronger than the pain of the bullet hole and I manage to slice a punch across Wolfe’s face with my good hand.
He’s completely unfazed, even as his lip splits open and drips red. He leans over me. “That the best you got?” He spits his blood across my face in a spray.
I manage to lift my hips enough to roll him back. He’s not under me, but at least I’m not under him either. The gun still dangles from my right hand. The hand I can’t lift now that he’s shot my shoulder. We both look down at it and I reach for it with my left hand when Wolfe kicks it free from my grip and it slides away from me.
Fuck!
Panicked, I jump on him, using what’s left of my adrenaline to scramble for his gun and Wolfe rolls away, keeping it hidden beneath him. I know as soon as he moves, as soon as he gets to his feet or even rolls over, that’s it. He’s got his gun. Mine is across the floor. I use all of my bodyweight and try to keep him pinned to the floor, but he’s strong and he’s not shot. He’s going to win.
“Mmm!” Red gives another muffled cry and kicks my gun back to my side.
I quickly snatch it up, struggling to point it at Wolfe. He thrashes like a giant being held down by only string, bouncing me off him as he claws at the floor for his own weapon. He has it. I can tell by the way his body stiffens confidently, like a man who knows he’s won.
The room is shades of blue and red, but the strange hues make no sense in my mind. I secure my pistol in my left hand and hold it at the base of Wolfe’s neck, my finger on the trigger. I’m ready to put a bullet into the place where his spine meets the back of his head.
“Drop your weapons! Everybody put your hands where I can see them!” The order is barked out behind me. I don’t need to turn to know it’s one of our boys in blue.
Relief washes over me as I drop my gun and slump off of Wolfe. I lift my left hand high, and my right as much as my bleeding injury will allow. Peering over my shoulder I see two cops in the room with us and a couple more outside, all of them with guns drawn.
It’s over.
Emotion washes through me, leaving me limp but free. Like laundry being hung out on a line.
Wolfe scrambles to his knees, but I can see the metal gleam in his hands.
“Gun!” It’s all the warning I can give before Wolfe turns around and fires off two rounds toward the officers. Both slugs end up in the wall and I scramble under the desk as they open fire on him. Blood explodes from his chest in little bursts as bullets rain into him. He convulses as he falls backward onto the floor and a river of red spurts through his clothes and runs into the carpet.
“On your feet,” one of the officers yells and I readily comply. Over his shoulder I can see another cop peel the tape free from Red’s lips. I know how this looks. Like I was part of whatever sick plan he had for her. But I know it will all get sorted out. I know it’s over now and Red is safe.
“Ryan.” She sobs and runs over to me before they even have a chance to release her from her ties.
I look at the officers and slowly raise my good hand, holding her tight against me. “It’s okay, Red. You’re safe now. It’s all over now.” The red and blue lights outside streak her tear-stained face as she looks up at me, somehow making her green eyes even brighter.
“I love you,” she whispers hoarsely.
How could I not kiss her? My lips meet hers in a soft, sweet kiss until the police tell us to split it up. But I know there are a lifetime of kisses where that one came from. And I can’t wait to give her each and every one.
Epilogue
Ryan
“Nana, are you sure you’re okay? Take a deep breath and just relax.” Red’s eyebrows pinch together as she leans over her grandmother with concern.
Her nana does what Red suggested, slowly exhaling a lungful of air like a yoga instructor finding her Zen. Then, she squares her shoulders, lifts her arms up parallel to the floor and snaps her eyelids open. She’s laser focused. Then, without even flinching, she empties all six of the rounds in her Ruger LCP into the pink target of a faceless man downrange. He might be faceless on paper, but I know exactly what he looks like in her mind.
“Boom!” Nana, or Madge, as she’s insisted I call her, holds up her hands like a magician who just dropped a smoke bomb and is about to walk off in the puffy haze.
It’s impossible not to laugh at her spunk. When Red first told me about her grandmother, even though she warned me she was still young, I couldn’t help but picture an aging woman. Someone who likes baking cookies and playing games of bridge as long as they wrapped up before her dinner at four o’clock on the nose.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. In the three months she’s been letting Red and me stay at her house, I’ve learned that this woman has more life in her and more attitude than women half her age.
“That was freaking awesome.” Red smiles proudly. She watches as the target slides toward us, showing just how far Madge has come since we started coming here. The first time we showed up at the indoor shooting range, she wasn’t shy about handling a gun, but it wasn’t going to do a lick of good in her hand when she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. Now she’s grouped the shots so tight, part of the paper target is just a gaping hole where Wolfe’s heart would be.
If he had a heart to begin with.
“Well, it’s not hard to learn when you’ve got this guy teaching ya.” She claps my shoulder enthusiastically. “Not everyone gets to learn from a former Navy SEAL.” Her pale green eyes twinkle.
Eye color isn’t the only trail Red and her grandmother share. Their wild hair and small statures also seem to be genetic. And, not that I ever look at Madge this way, but it’s nice to see that when Red hits her sixties she’ll still be a smokin’ hot fox.
“It’s the least I could do,” I answer honestly. “Especially after all the meals you’ve made us.” I pat the five pounds I’m sure I’ve put on in my belly. I remember Red told me her grandmother never cooked anything that didn’t come frozen. Well, times have changed. Since she retired, she started taking cooking classes down at the local grocery store. It’s part of a “healthy living” program they put on, which also just happens to feature recipes that help them off-load more of their food to seniors. It’s kind of a win-win. The participants start eating more nutritious foods and they sell more product.
Now Madge is whipping up lasagnas from scratch and pork roast with all the trimmings that make my mouth water at the thought. They might not always be the healthiest meals, but I’ll be damned if they aren’t tasty.
“I think our time is up.” I look at the huge clock on the back wall. The ladies nod and we head out, returning our ear defenders and signing the paperwork off before we head outside into the rain.
Oh, Portland in the winter. With its seemingly endless downpour and gray-streaked sky. People like to say “you can’t shovel the rain,” like the bleary, oppressive clouds opening over their heads is a blessing. I always want to tell them in the south you can’t shovel the sunshine either, but it feels a lot better.
Still, a bit of rain isn’t enough to make me want to run. Not when Red is here. Portland is her home, and it’s starting to feel like mine too. I’ll just have to invest in a good quality raincoat. No biggie.
We all shake ourselves off like dogs and get into Madge’s car. She makes me drive most days. She’s a bit old-fashioned that way. I don’t mind a bit. It’s nice to whip around on my bike, but not when the roads are so sloppy and five minutes on my Harley means being soaked to the bone.
“Hey, are yo
u guys hungry?” I look over at Madge in the passenger seat and then give Red a wink in the backseat.
“I am,” Red answers.
“Oh, let’s get you home then. I’ve got those leftovers in the fridge you can warm up,” her nana offers.
“Nah, how about we treat you? Let’s go out for lunch instead.” I give her a smile and can see her hesitation melt away. I know she’s on a fixed income now that she’s retired and she doesn’t splurge on nice meals often. “Our treat.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? If it’s your treat, let’s go to Red Lobster.” She laughs.
“I’ll do you one better.” I smirk and navigate our way through Portland’s busy streets to The Seafood Company.
“Oh no, I was just kidding about the lobster,” Madge begins to protest as we pull into the parking lot. “This place is too pricey.” She waves her hands.
“Nope, not another word,” I shush her. “We wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
Madge shrugs off her hesitation and follows us inside where a concierge greets us at the front door.
“Reservation for Rogers, please,” I announce and we’re seated right away.
It takes more convincing than it should, but we finally get Madge to order a lobster dish. Although, she still wouldn’t go for the full deal, opting for a risotto with huge chunks of lobster instead. Really, it’s probably better that way. Now she doesn’t have to wear a big bib or fight to try to free the meat from the shell. Instead, she can concentrate on the conversation. Which is important, because we brought her here to tell her something.
Red and her grandmother talk about Wolfe, a topic we often end up back to ever since the night he died.
.
“Have either of you heard anything from Detective Verilon?” Madge lowers her voice a bit.
“No,” I answer firmly. “And we won’t for a while, unfortunately. You know how the justice system is. It takes a bit,” I try to reassure her.
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