Committed

by Velvet Vaughn

  "Shit," Jen cursed tackling her to the floor. Smoke rapidly filled the space making inhalation difficult. Jen eyed the needle, reaching for it. Rachel seized her arm, blocking her attempt.

  "Jen?"

  The door slammed open and both heads whipped around. A man stood in the doorway, gun poised to shoot.

  "It’s you," Rachel cried. Shock froze her in place long enough for Jen to snatch the hypodermic off the ground.

  "Come on, Jen, we have to get out of here," Harmon Sloane ordered.

  Jen struggled to jab the needle into Rachel but she fought her off, wrestling for control as her lungs burned.

  "Now, Jennifer," Harmon bellowed, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the gray smoke.

  "Shoot her, dammit," Jen commanded, not able to gain the upper hand.

  With a surge of strength, Rachel gave one last tug, propelling them both backward. Something whizzed by her ear and Jen’s grasp instantly released. Stunned, she turned and gagged. The back of Jen’s head had been blown away.

  "No," Harmon bellowed. Rushing forward, he dropped to his knees and gathered her in his arms. "Jen, my love, what have I done?"

  Rachel used his agony to scramble out of the room. Spotting Jen’s gun on a table, she grabbed it as she coughed harshly and dashed away,

  "You made me kill her," Sloane roared from behind her.

  She flew down the stairs and out the door, tripping over something on the porch. She launched over the steps and hit the ground hard, pain momentarily paralyzing her.

  A tortured moan jerked her head up. April’s mother had dragged herself outside. That’s what she stumbled over. She wanted to stop and help her but if she did, Sloane would kill her, too. "I’m sorry," she whispered as she righted herself and took off for a dead run into the nearby forest. Bark splintered next to her ear, forcing her to run faster.

  #

  Peter woke slowly, his head pounding. He started to shift his stiff body and remembered where he was and why. Jennifer Palmer’s car. He had to stop her.

  Remaining motionless, he focused on his surroundings. The car had stopped. He listened for any sounds and heard the low hum of an engine of some kind. It sounded very close.

  Spotting something under the driver’s seat, he reached out to grab it. A cell phone! He could call Ben. First, he needed to make sure he didn’t get caught.

  Easing to his hands and knees, he carefully peered out the window. A large SUV was parked next to him, the driver’s door open, the car running. He rotated his head. A white house sat several feet away surrounded on both sides by trees. He focused on the house again. The front door stood wide open.

  He eased out of the car. Ominous gray clouds swirled overhead, lending a brisk nip to the air. His eyes widened. A plume of black smoke poured out of the house.

  He stilled, his mind reeling back to the night he woke up in a room filled with scorching flames. He remembered crawling to his parents’ room to wake them up but the smoke was too thick. He couldn’t see where he was going and then pain singed his face. The next thing he knew, he woke up in the back of an ambulance.

  Fire stole everything important to him—his family, his house, his childhood and his innocence.

  He shook himself out of the trance. Rachel could be in that house, hurt, dying. He had to get in there and save her. He took two steps and stopped, his whole body shaking. It wasn’t the fire or the wind that caused his reaction. It was the woman lying motionless on the front porch.

  #

  Ben snatched the magazine off the ground. "Gary, look at me." He held up the book and pointed to Harmon Sloane’s face. "This is the bogeyman, the one who comes in and takes people from your room?"

  Gary nodded frantically. "The bogeyman. He steals them and they never return."

  "Shit." He heaved the magazine against the wall.

  Jake recovered it. "Who is this?"

  "Dr. Harmon Sloane," April answered. "My step-father. He’s on the board of directors for the hospital."

  "Gary, is it?" Jake asked the man trembling with fear. Gary nodded. "You have been a big help. I need you to go with Agent Perry and tell her everything you know." He motioned for the female agent to come forward. She smiled at Gary and led him away, talking in comforting low tones.

  Jake dashed to Bexley’s office to get contact information. Ben pulled April aside. "We need to find Sloane now. Do you have his office number?"

  "In my room." She sprinted down the hall, Ben following close behind. She whipped open a desk drawer and pulled out a small address book. He punched the numbers as she recited them. The phone rang and when Sloane’s nurse answered, he identified himself and demanded to talk to the man.

  "I’m sorry," the nurse said. "He was called home on an emergency and left about ten minutes ago."

  He hung up without saying goodbye. "April, I need to know how to get to your house. Can you give me directions?"

  April shook her head but lifted her chin. "I can’t tell you how to get there, but I can show you."

  #

  Ben broke every posted speed limit as he raced from the Institute. Perched beside him, April guided him to her house. His cell phone trilled nonstop. He couldn’t ignore the confrontation any longer. "Colton," he said and winced when a very pissed off Jake issued a harsh curse.

  "What the hell are you doing taking off without telling me?" he roared. He didn’t wait for an answer. "And was it necessary to pull a gun on the guard at the gate?"

  "Yes," he said simply. He had to get to Rachel before it was too late.

  Jake’s huffed sigh cut through the line. "I’m right behind you."

  "Do not go in with sirens blazing," he ordered. "I don’t want anyone panicking and shooting."

  Jake actually growled. "You haven’t up to this point, but dammit, give me a little credit." He sounded truly affronted.

  Instantly contrite, Ben said, "I’m sorry, I know you wouldn’t. And I’m sorry about taking off…I had to get to Rachel."

  Jake grunted. Ben considered that an acceptance of his apology.

  "Just wait for us to get there before you go inside." He paused.

  "Ben?" Jake demanded.

  "I’m sorry Jake, I’m losing you."

  He cut off the connection to a string of harsh curses. It rang immediately and he considered tossing it into the back seat until he glanced at caller ID.

  Jennifer Palmer.

  His stomach clenched. "Smith," he barked.

  "Ben, it’s me, Peter."

  "Peter?" April whirled in her seat to face him. "What happened?"

  "They wouldn’t let me in the building. No one believed I worked with you. Then I saw Jen dragging Rachel out of the building and Ben, she shot Kathleen Butler."

  "I know," he said. "She’s alive. Where are you now?"

  "I hid in the back of Jen’s car. I planned on jumping her at a stop light so Rachel could escape but she slammed on the brakes and I banged my head. I failed, Ben. I’ll never make it as a detective. I just woke up. I’m parked in front of a house surrounded by trees."

  "It’s April’s house," he told him. "Her step-father is in on the racket."

  "Ben, the house is burning and someone is lying on the porch. I can’t tell if she is alive or not. It’s not Rachel," he quickly added.

  "How much farther?" Ben asked April.

  "We’re almost there. Turn right," April instructed.

  In the distance, the sky glowed red and smoke hung heavy over the horizon. "My house," April screamed. "It’s on fire."

  Ben punched the accelerator to the floor and spun gravel.

  "Someone is coming out," Peter said urgently. "Rachel!"

  Ben’s heart stopped. She was alive.

  Ben heard Rachel scream, "Run, Peter," in the background just as a gunshot sounded and the line went dead.

  "Peter?"

  Tires screeching, Ben barely slowed making the turn up the driveway. The back end fishtailed and he fought against the spin, righting the car to fly
up to the house. He slammed the car into park and sprinted from the car. Flames danced over the roof, sending plumes of smoke skyward. A heavy odor hung in the air as small red embers drifted to the ground like snowflakes.

  Peter struggled to his feet holding his arm, blood seeping between his fingers. April cried in anguish and rushed to him.

  "I’m okay," he assured her. "It’s just a graze. The forest, Ben. He chased Rachel to the forest."

  April spotted the woman lying face down on the porch. "Mom!" She dashed to the house.

  "Pete can you get April’s mom away from the house with that injury?"

  Peter nodded bravely.

  "The Feds will be here any minute. Tell Jake Kincaid where I went." He took off at a dead run for the copse of trees.

  "Be careful," Peter called to his back.

  Sooty clouds of smoke drifted across the sky, casting the forest in deep foreboding shadows. He didn’t slow as he hurdled a downed tree and pushed branches aside, dodging young saplings and thorny bushes. Suddenly he stumbled.

  A gunshot rang out.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Terror kept Rachel’s legs moving when exhaustion threatened. Leaves crackled and twigs snapped behind her. Sloane was gaining on her.

  Her skin stung from dozens of tiny cuts from angry branches but she kept going. To stop meant certain death. Her foot slid under a root and she pitched face down to the solid earth.

  "Come out, come out wherever you are," Sloan sing-songed.

  Glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder, she scrambled to her feet. Stumbling again, she went down hard on her knees.

  "Kellie, be a good girl and let me help you."

  Rachel pushed to her feet and took off again. A deep ravine dropped off to one side. She skirted the edge, looking for any means of escape. Spotting a large boulder outcropping, she aimed in that direction, dismissing the largest rock as too obvious. She threw herself behind a mass of stone and waited. Her breathing was unnaturally loud to her ears and she feared it would give her hiding place away. She tried to inhale through her nose but terror forced her mouth open. The gun in her hand trembled. She would never be able to hit anything. She had never even held a gun in her life.

  "Oh Kellie, where are you?"

  Peeking around the edge of the stone, she almost fainted when Sloane appeared through the trees. He walked calmly, unhurriedly, almost as if he were out for a leisurely stroll. His voice called out to her. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her heart slamming against her ribs. Smoke curled through the trees, wrapping the already dense forest in a thick black blanket. She hoped the haze played to her advantage.

  Sloane stopped directly in front of her. A shaft of light poked through the trees to glint off the revolver in his hand. It was now or never.

  Steadying the gun on the top of the boulder, she waited until Sloane pivoted around. She did not want to shoot him in the back. Saying a quick prayer, she aimed, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

  The force of the recoil sent her reeling back and she landed on her bottom. Sloane screamed and clutched his chest. He stumbled backwards and tumbled over the ravine. Twigs and branches snapped at the unexpected weight, leaves kicking up like confetti in his wake.

  The forest settled in an eerie silence.

  "Oh, oh." Clambering to her feet, she rushed to peer over the edge. Sloane’s body lay halfway down the grade at an unnatural angle, his head crushed against a rock.

  The gun dropped from her fingers to the spongy forest floor. "I just killed a man." Rachel started hyperventilating.

  "Rachel."

  Ben’s voice broke through her shock. "Ben?" She wanted to run to him, leap into his embrace and never let go. But she stood paralyzed, her legs trembling, her chest heaving. She had just taken the life of another human. It didn’t matter that he was trying to do the same thing to her.

  Ben swept her in his arms. "Oh baby." One palm stroked her hair. "I heard the gunshots and I…" He choked and pulled her close.

  She felt his heart beating against her cheek. The rapid tempo matched hers.

  "Breathe, baby, in and out. That’s right, just keep inhaling and exhaling."

  "I killed him," she repeated in broken gasps.

  "It’s okay, Rachel. He would have killed you." He rubbed her back soothingly.

  "I took a life, Ben."

  "I know, honey. I’ve been there myself. It’s not easy, but you did what you had to do to survive." When her breathing evened out, he pulled back and gripped her head between his hands, his lips thinning in rage. He kissed the red and purple bruises forming on her face, the gentleness belying the look of pure malice clouding his features. "Are you hurt?"

  Her head moved back and forth.

  "Where is he, can you show me?"

  She pointed at the ravine. "Down there."

  Fingering his gun, he peered over the edge. He stepped away to get a better look. "Are you sure, Rachel?"

  "What? Yes, I saw him. He’s lying against a rock, covered in blood."

  "Shit."

  Ben’s curse barely had time to penetrate as she looked up into the deranged face of Harmon Sloane. Blood and leaves matted his hair, his face swollen and covered with mud, twigs clinging to his suit. He flashed an evil smile, blood staining his broken teeth.

  He lifted his gun.

  Rachel wanted to scream, wanted to run, but fear planted her feet to the earth as deeply as the roots of the mighty oaks surrounding her. Sounds from the forest seemed unnaturally loud. Birds chirped merrily calling to their mates, trees swayed in the breeze, their leaves rattling like Mother Nature’s wind chimes. A creek gurgled and splashed against rocks as it had done for hundreds of years.

  She braced for the impact of the bullet as Harmon pulled the trigger.

  "No!"

  Ben let out a huge bellow, a savage look on his face, as he dove through the air, his gun aimed at Sloane, a hail of gunfire tap, tap, tapping. The impact of his shoulder launched her off her feet. She landed with a harsh grunt a few feet away, Ben’s body covering hers like a shield.

  Rachel gaped in horror as bullets ripped through Sloane’s flesh, battering him, sending him staggering with each hit. Eyes rounded in shock, he stopped, his arm dropped, the gun slipping from his fingers. His eyes closed and he plunged backward to the ground like a felled tree.

  This couldn’t be real. Getting kidnapped and shot at and watching people die, those things happened in the movies or books or television. They didn’t happen in real life. Or at least they didn’t in Rachel Kellie Mead Bancroft’s sheltered one.

  Ben’s massive weight crushed her to the earth, stealing her air, reminding her that this was indeed real and he had just saved her life.

  "Oh Ben, you saved me," she said. "Ben?"

  There was no answer.

  #

  "Ben?"

  Panic flared. Rachel struggled to free herself, his limp body heavy and solid. Finally she managed to crawl out and in doing so, roll him to his back. Blood coated the front of his shirt.

  "Ben," she screamed. "Wake up, please." Her palms cupped his cheeks. "You can’t die, Ben, you can’t."

  Lashes fluttered open. "Sloane…dead…this time?"

  She nodded, tears dripping to mingle with the blood on his polo shirt. "Yes."

  "You…hurt?" he whispered.

  She shook her head, a small sob escaping.

  His lips curved sweetly, his eyes drifting shut. "Love…" His head rolled to the side.

  "Ben," she cried frantically.

  Footsteps thundered behind her but she paid no attention. She was vaguely aware when Peter dropped down beside her, calling Ben’s name. Someone tried to tug her away but she refused to move.

  "They need room to work on him," a deep voice said in her ear.

  Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be lifted from his side. Medics rushed forward, one using a small pair of scissors to slice Ben’s shirt open. Rachel gasped at the bloom of red smearing his chest and her legs buckle
d. Strong arms held her upright.

  "I’ve got a chopper en route."

  The man introduced himself as Ben’s former FBI partner Jake Kincaid. She was grateful for his calming presence. Peter gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and to his surprise, she clung to it. He attempted to smile but silent streams coursing down his cheeks ruined the effect. Rachel’s own tears left tracks in the dirt and grime soiling her face.

  "April?" she asked.

  "She rode with her mother in the ambulance. I didn’t want her sticking around and getting hurt."

  She understood his feelings, shared them. She didn’t want April hurt either. Her stepfather had done enough of that to last her a lifetime.

  Paramedics ripped open bandages and mopped up blood and shot Ben’s veins full of clear liquid in IV bags. Walkie-talkies squawked, orders were issued and followed with rapid-fire precision. Soon the thumping beat of helicopter blades rent the air as the copter hovered before landing in an open field in front of the pile of ashes that had once been April’s childhood home. Rachel, Peter and Jake accompanied Ben for the brief ride to the hospital. Jake phoned Ben’s family from the air.

  The rest of the day was a blur.

  A team of doctors met the helicopter as soon as it landed. Ben was lowered to a gurney and rushed to surgery. A nurse led them to the waiting room and promised to have the doctor speak to them as soon as possible.

  Rachel wanted to refuse the fresh pair of green scrubs Jake scrounged up for her to wear. They brought back too many bad memories of the Bexley Institute. He finally convinced her to change. She didn’t even realize Ben’s blood covered her back from where he used his body to protect hers.

  Jake excused himself to make more calls. She didn’t know how long she sat clinging to Peter, waiting for any information on Ben’s condition. Every time the operating room doors opened, she sprung to her feet, only to be disappointed when the doctor approached another waiting family. CNN played on the television in the corner, the volume turned low. She caught a glimpse of Jen’s face and quickly turned away, not wanting to relieve the horror of the last few hours.