by Green, Stacy
She’d take her chances with the dogs.
In a final burst, she reached the fence. Her lungs screamed for air. Her legs burned for rest. She couldn’t stop. Her tied hands found the top rail and she began to climb.
Footsteps thundered and the Taker’s ragged breaths rattled behind her. Her skin crawled, but she heaved her body upward. Her left leg swung over the fence. She was halfway there.
“I won’t let you go.” The Taker’s hand closed around her right ankle. “Josephine, stay with me,” he cried.
She kicked backward with all her might. Blood rushed to her head as her top half dangled over the fence. Her hands clawed at the ground.
The Taker clutched her ankle. His other hand snatched the waistband of her shorts.
Dizziness washed over Emilie. She refused to stop fighting. She grabbed at the grass in an effort to gain leverage. Her hand closed over something hard and smooth. A rock.
“You’re not leaving me.”
She screamed as the Taker heaved her back over the fence. The rough wood scraped her stomach. He threw her on the ground. Another scream left Emilie as her ribs banged against the hardened soil.
“You aren’t good enough to replace her,” the Taker shouted.
He stood over Emilie, his lips twisted and moisture leaking from his mouth. “You’re just like Marie. Both of you imposters, tricking me into believing in you and then destroying me.” He beat his fist against his chest. “I won’t let you do it. Not again.”
The Taker dove for her. Her body shouted in protest as she turned in flight. The Taker stumbled and then jerked her back, twisting her so quickly Emilie heard the crack of her ribs.
Her shriek of agony echoed through the desert night.
“I’ll put you where no one will find you.” The Taker grasped her shirt and pulled her face near his. He looked like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. “You should have just loved me. That’s all you needed to do.”
“I’d rather die.” Emilie summoned all her strength and slammed the rock into his head.
The Taker’s eyes rolled back. He fell to the side with a groan. Emilie scrambled to get up, but the sharp pain in her ribs refused to allow her to move with any speed. She dug her elbows into the ground and crawled back to the fence. Tiny pebbles and dirt tore into her already bloody knee.
She gripped the wooden rail and paused. She struggled for air against the damaged ribs. Her head grew fuzzy.
Something moved in the dirt behind her. Emilie glanced over her shoulder. An enraged face and a silver blade rushed toward her: the Swiss Army Knife.
Mémé’s face flashed in her thoughts. They’d be together again soon. But Nathan would be left behind. More guilt for him to carry, another love to mourn.
Firecrackers exploded in the air. Emilie waited for the sky to burst into brilliant colors. Instead the Taker’s eyes widened and his body grew slack. He fell forward, blade still in his hand.
Emilie wrenched back to her stomach. She tasted dirt as she pressed her face against her bound wrists. A sharp sting ripped through her shoulder, followed by a grind-like noise that reminded her of the dentist. Heavy weight landed on her. Pinned to the ground, she couldn’t move or breathe. Blood dripped down her arm and pooled in the dirt. The Taker had succeeded.
Her shoulder throbbed. Desert sand invaded her eyes.
Shouts came from all around, voices she didn’t recognize. And then the heavy mass disappeared.
“Emilie,” a gruff voice next to her said. “Don’t move. The paramedics are on the way.”
Manicured hands and brown eyes appeared—a familiar face.
“Agent Ronson?”
“It’s me. It’s over.”
Emilie closed her eyes as peace swept over her broken body. Freedom. If the only way to achieve it was death, then so be it.
More rapid footsteps came at a frantic cadence. “Is she all right?”
Nathan.
Emilie tried to call his name. Her body hurt too much. Ronson’s face disappeared, and then Nathan was there. His skin was ashen and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. His unsteady hand reached out to brush her cheek.
“You’re okay. You’re safe.”
She wiggled her fingers. White-hot pain seared through her shoulder. Nathan understood and wove his fingers through hers.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
Cold crept up her body. The knife’s blade jabbed her bone. She couldn’t waste the time she had left.
She licked her dry lips and forced them to move. Her voice was no more than a murmur.
Nathan leaned close and rested his forehead against her. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Her thick hair spilled over the pillow as she slept. Her skin still looked too pale. The bruise on her left cheek had lost some of its angry purple hue and yellow had taken its place. Emilie’s white nightshirt did nothing to cover the scrapes on her arms and knees. Wedged under her right side, a second pillow took pressure off her cracked ribs.
Nathan crept toward her bed. After four sleepless nights in the hospital, Emilie had passed out when they arrived at her apartment that morning. She needed her pain pills, but Nathan hated to disturb her. She looked like a slumbering angel after a battle with the devil.
The orange fluff ball curled against her other side yawned and stretched, then cracked open an eye.
“Otis.” Nathan scratched the cat between his ears. “You missed her, didn’t you?”
The cat hadn’t left Emilie’s side since Nathan brought the two of them home. Her scraped hand rested on his fur, a contented smile on her lips.
Nathan brushed his fingers across her cheek. She stirred and sighed.
“Wake up,” Nathan whispered. “You have meds to take.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Then you can go back to sleep.”
Emilie shifted, her eyes still closed. Otis rolled to his feet and arched his back. He took two steps forward and then stretched his back legs out in the odd contortion only cats can do.
He tapped Emilie’s face with a chubby paw.
“No, Otis.”
Another impatient tap, followed by a nose to the face.
“Not the wet nose. Little shit.”
Nathan ruffled the cat’s fur. “I guess I know how to wake you up now.”
Emilie opened her eyes and smiled. “I’d probably have a different reaction if you nuzzled me like that.”
“I’m counting on it.”
She sat up with a groan, her face set in a pained grimace.
“How’s your shoulder?”
“Hurts.”
The knife had missed major arteries but sliced through muscle. Emilie had huffed about physical therapy, but she had no choice.
“I don’t mind,” she continued. “Reminds me I’m alive.”
Nathan ran his hand over her exposed leg. Her knees were rough, patches of tattered skin still red on her calves. The terrible moment when he’d arrived with Ronson and Avery had stopped his heart. Emilie’s tortured screams were forever ingrained in his memory. The shots had come, then the shouts for paramedics.
SWAT’s shots had sent the Taker on a forward momentum, and his raised hand had almost carried out his final wish. Emilie lay trapped beneath him, her blood tangled with his, the knife still in her shoulder.
Emilie touched Nathan’s cheek. “What are you thinking about?”
“You.” He kissed her fingertips. He tried to contain his emotions as he’d done the last few days, but his strength waned. “When I saw that knife, I thought I’d lost you, just like Jimmy. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Come here.” She brought his face to hers and pressed her warm lips to his mouth. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”
Otis wedged his way between them and mewed.
She stroked his fur. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be my number one boy.”
Nathan handed her a glass of water and her pain pills. “Thanks a lot.”
“You know I love you.”
Emilie swallowed the pills and then looked out her window. Afternoon sunlight streamed in beneath the drawn curtains. “How’s Jeremy?”
“Getting better,” Nathan said. “Doctors think he’ll make a slow recovery. He’s a lucky guy.”
Stupidity had saved Jeremy. He hadn’t taken enough sleeping pills. He’d have to pay for conspiring with the Taker and would likely face a lifetime of health concerns thanks to the damage from the sleeping pills.
Nathan couldn’t think of a more appropriate punishment. He didn’t have Emilie’s forgiving heart. Jeremy could have manned up at the beginning and prevented the death and destruction the Taker had created.
“I want to see him soon.”
“I’m sure you do.” Nathan lay down next to her, his hand on her arm. He couldn’t touch her enough. The feel of her skin assured him she was alive and would be well soon.
“What about Julian?” Emilie asked. Her empathy for the Taker amazed Nathan. Yes, the man had an awful childhood experience, but so had thousands of other kids. They didn’t turn out to be psychopaths.
“He’ll be buried in a family plot in Cloutierville,” Nathan said. “Josephine’s buried there, too.”
She rested her head against his shoulder. “He’ll finally be reunited with her.”
“As long as you’re with me,” Nathan kissed her again. “That’s all I care about.”
Her mouth opened and her hand clenched around his shirt as she pulled him closer. Nathan slipped his leg between hers and trailed his fingers up her arms. Emilie shivered and tossed her leg over his hip.
“Ouch.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away.”
“No.” She settled back against the pillows. “I’m the injured one. I should know better.”
“Do you need anything else?” Nathan pulled the sheet up around her.
“No.” She yawned. “I’m good, as long as you snuggle up with me.”
He carefully settled next to her. If Nathan spent the rest of his life with Emilie, it wouldn’t be enough.
“Did Sam call back?” Emilie asked.
“Yeah, I almost forgot. He’s coming for a visit next week.”
“I’m looking forward to it. It’s been so long.”
“He’s excited, too. And he can’t wait to meet me.”
“I’m sure you’ll get his seal of approval.” She closed her eyes. “You earned mine, and that was no easy feat.”
“Pretty sure fate had a hand in that.”
“Me, too.”
“Sam found Mark Chambers.”
“Good.” Emilie yawned again as the medicine kicked in. She closed her eyes. “He deserves to know the truth.”
Nathan kissed her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. Look how far you’ve come.”
“Almost dying’ll do that to you. Now let me sleep.”
“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He threaded his fingers with hers.
“I’m counting on it.”
About the Author
Raised in southeastern Iowa, Stacy Green grew up watching crime shows with her parents and developed a lifelong love of suspense and psychological thrillers. She’s fascinated by the workings of the criminal mind and explores true crime on her popular Thriller Thursday posts at her blog, Turning The Page.
After earning her degree in journalism, Stacy worked in advertising before becoming a stay-at-home mom to her miracle child. She rediscovered her love of writing and wrote several articles for a city magazine before penning her first novel, which will never see the light of day. Her next project, set in Las Vegas, became her debut novel, Into The Dark.
Featuring a heroine on the edge of disaster, a tormented villain, and the city’s infamous storm drains that house hundreds of homeless, Into the Dark is a suspense novel with a dash of romance. Stacy is hard at work on her next book, a darker, grittier thriller set in the deep south.
When she’s not writing, she spends all her time with her precocious daughter, supportive husband, and their three obnoxious but lovable canine children.
You can find Stacy on her website, Twitter, and Facebook.
Also Available at MuseItUp Publishing
Obsession
By Sally Royer-Derr
Romantic Suspense
Evil can be closer than you think.
After her husband’s tragic accident, Joanna Dresden seeks to rebuild her life. She finds love again in the arms of a much younger man and feels her life moving forward again. She didn’t realize her husband’s death wasn’t an accident, but rather a calculated murder, by a man willing to do anything to be with her. A man she knew well…
Excerpt:
A slow drizzle of rain pelted the freshly mowed grass of the cemetery. Wet blades of green clung to Joanna’s black pumps as she solemnly walked to the burial plot. Simon held a large black umbrella over her and Jilly as they walked in silence.
The funeral service had been well attended. Most of the town was there to extend their condolences. But Joanna had insisted on a private burial. Family and close friends only.
She sat on the hard folding chair in front of the flower-adorned closed casket. Despite the humidity, she shivered, thinking of her hand touching Jared’s for the last time. In her heart, she knew his soul, his spirit, lived on. His earthly body was only a casing for his true soul, which now looked down from Heaven at her. I know he’s in a better place. A place without hurt or death. But what about me and Jilly? How are we going to live without him?
Jilly looked unusually small today in her dark funeral dress. She gripped Joanna’s hand and sat hunched over, staring at her father’s casket. She hasn’t said a word since finding out he was killed. Will she ever find her voice again? Joanna’s head hurt with all the troubling thoughts. I can’t think about that now.
The pastor said words, but she could not understand them. The words, like the murmuring of condolences spoken to her at the funeral, jumbled together into an unrecognizable blend of sounds. I can’t do this. This can’t be happening to me.
She felt tears welling and pressed her eyes closed for a moment, hoping to shut out the scene in front of her. Opening her eyes again, she watched as Jared was slowly lowered into the ground, and tears stung her face. Don’t leave me, Jared. Her silent pleas were unheard. The only man she’d ever loved was gone.
* * * *
She looks so beautiful in black. His gaze traveled over her appealing form draped by the dark material. He liked how pale her face looked today, almost ethereal, like an angel from Heaven. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a brown tortoiseshell clip, revealing the delicate bone structure of her face. He watched her sit on the sofa, picking at her full plate of food. She lifted her head, her sad blue eyes looking expectantly around the room, and then suddenly clouding over as she looked back to her plate of untouched food.
He longed to go to her, to touch her, to tell her everything would be okay. He would glide his hand over her silken hair and whisper softly in her ear, to reassure her and to make her know that he would always be there for her. Her blue eyes would gaze into his, the sadness starting to melt away, and she would see him, the real him, for the first time. And she would know in that moment they were meant to be together.
He shook his head, feeling slightly unsettled about his fantasy—the fantasy he so desperately wanted to become a reality. One day it will be my reality. One day very soon. Now that Jared was out of the picture, thanks to him, there were no more obstacles deterring him from her.
As it should be. Jared had stood in the way of his happiness for too long. From the moment he knew Joanna was destined to be his, Jared was an obstacle for him. A smile spread across his face. Not anymore.
He gripped his cup of coffee tightly and it spilled over his hand. Grabbing a napkin from a nearby table, he wiped the liquid away. He glanced back to the couch where Joanna had been sitting, but it was now unoccupied. He quickly p
ut his cup down and went off in search of her.
For Rob, Grace, my father, and most of all, Mom.
This dream is for both of us.
Acknowledgements
So many people to thank in just one page. My husband, Rob, who’s worked hard so I could stay home and write and never gave up on me. My parents for their unwavering support, my daughter Grace for the joy she brings into my life. My critique partner and friend, Catie Rhodes, for teaching me about back story, dialogue tags, and for being there every day to volley ideas. To Kristine Kelly: without you, this wouldn’t have happened. Your faith in me when my writing was no more than junk on a page, and your teaching and support, helped bring me here today. Thank you.
To Donna Galanti and all of my online writing friends following my journey and cheering me on–thank you. I’m proud to be part of such a great community.
To Matt O’Brien, author of Beneath The Neon, Life and Death in the Las Vegas Tunnels: thank you for bringing such a heartbreaking and inspiring place to this landlocked Midwestern girl.
I also need to thank the Louisiana Creole Heritage Center at Northwestern University, the Las Vegas Metro Police Force, the city of Las Vegas, the Nevada Historical Society, Jodie Renner, Kristen Lamb, all my friends at #WANA, Melissa Foster, and Lea Schizas, MuseItUp’s hardworking publisher, for her patience and dedication.
Into the Dark © 2012 by Stacy Green
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
MuseItUp Publishing