Cowboy Edition EBook

by Maree, Kay

  Detective Deacon Black faxed everything he had on him, and boy did he have everything we needed on this scumbag.

  When they ran the prints off the murder weapon our boy here popped up," he taps the file which now displays a mugshot of Patrick Jones, but the name reads Patrick Stewart.

  "What the fuck?" Jebson and I both mumble at the same time.

  "It turns out 8 years ago his father was murdered in self-defence after he tried to rape his foster daughter, and she managed to get the upper hand and bashed his brains in."

  "Sonofabitch," my gut twists, I begin to pace, knowing exactly who the girl was.

  I cut him off before Drixen has a chance to finish.

  "The foster daughter was Cora Hope," I grind out.

  Everyone turns towards me with mixed emotions of what the fuck to complete shock.

  "Are you telling me this fucker changed his last name to get to Cora?" I spit out.

  "Basically," Drixen mutters, taking his hat off and running a hand through his dark hair.

  "So this prick has been playing a vengeance game with Cora all along?" Jebson asks.

  "When Cora filed for divorce after she caught him cheating. I'm guessing he couldn't handle losing the control he held over her.

  He has controlled her all these years. Now all of a sudden she disappeared and the family life he created with that other woman just didn't cut it in the end," I summarize.

  "Why now, though? He has had years to kill her if that was his plan all along," Lucas speaks up, making me growl at the image of Cora lying dead somewhere.

  The piece of shit was only a few inches taller than Cora, his body probably half the size of mine, but he was losing control outside my house.

  God, only fucking knows what he would do to my girl.

  She was only a tiny thing.

  I just have to hope she keeps fighting until I get there.

  "My guess he probably thought controlling and beating her into submission was more a prolonged solution to soothe his vengeance plan. However, when she left, he couldn't let that happen because he knew he didn’t control her anymore."

  "Fuck," I grunt.

  "We need to find this fucker now," I growl and everyone nods in agreement.

  My eyes connect with my mum’s and I wish I didn't look as she curls into my dad’s side, burying her face into his shirt to muffle her broken cries.

  I need to get the fuck out of here.

  “You ready Luc--” I stop short as Jebsons radio crackles to life.

  All eyes swing to him when he responds knowing he has had all his officers out searching since the alert went out last night.

  A strained voice crackles through the speaker, sending chills down my spine.

  Voices rise in the bar, but I zone them out as we race out the door, jumping in our trucks.

  The roar of multiple engines echoes around the otherwise quiet space.

  My heart thumping in my chest, my foot to the floor taking the roads at high speed thankful the thick fog has started to dissipate.

  Pulling to a screeching stop behind the officer’s patrol car parked on the side of the road five minutes later.

  A rough breath leaves me seeing an ambulance already on scene.

  “Any idea who it was?” I call out, racing to Jebson’s side as he finishes a call on his radio.

  The paramedics place the Pat slide underneath the still conscious officer before lifting him onto the stretcher before they begin rolling him into the waiting ambulance.

  “I got a brief description, make and model of the car he is driving but Officer Scott didn’t see a female in the car, the description matches Patrick.”

  I suck in a breath, running my hands wildly through my hair before grabbing the ends tightly into fists.

  “He thinks something was lying on the floor in the back, but it had a blanket thrown over the top and no movement was noticed.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Let’s go after this sonofabitch,” Jebson barks, slapping me on the shoulder.

  “How? they could be anywhere,” I husk out, clearing my throat.

  “I have just sent out a call with the description of the make and model of the car and the driver. We will hit the road and follow in the direction Officer Scott saw them heading.”

  Just as the words leave his mouth his radio crackles to life.

  “Jump in Nash,” he calls over his shoulder.

  It didn’t matter if he invited me or not; I was fucking going along.

  With the lights flashing, siren blaring, Jebson floors it.

  Everything outside the window becomes a blur as we head towards the highway, Jebson begins talking into his radio but I zone him out.

  My head swimming with the possibilities that I could already be too late to save her.

  A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it down, but it’s no use.

  “Don’t think the worst yet,” Jebson barks out.

  All I can do is nod, trying to focus on anything else.

  Gunshots ring out, snapping my attention to the windshield.

  The scene playing out in front of me is like watching a horror movie.

  The old white Four-Wheel-Drive begins to swerve all over the road before hitting a gravel patch on the side of the road.

  A roar bubbles up my throat as the Four-Wheel-Drive tips over and begins to roll not once, twice, but three fucking times.

  “Shit,” Jebson curses at the same time I scream out.

  “Fuck no.”

  Jebson’s car has barely stopped moving and I’m already out of the car on a dead run.

  Dark smoke billows into the air.

  Glass is shattered across the ground.

  The whine of metal pounds in my ears when the beat-up Four-Wheel-Drive finally comes to a grinding stop on its side.

  “Cora, baby,” I choke out.

  Climbing the mangled metal.

  Loud groans of protest echo around me as I try to pull the backdoor open.

  Bracing my booted foot against the twisted metal, I put everything I have into it and finally the door gives and pops open.

  My eyes widen, my heart stops at the image in front of me.

  A mop of tangled dark caramel hair covered in blood.

  With a shaky hand, I reach over, pushing the once silky strands back away from her face.

  I suck in a deep breath when I see how pale she is, and the cuts scattered across her soft skin.

  I reach for the tape covering her mouth, but I worry I may hurt her more if I pull it off.

  “Fuck.”

  My whole body is shaking when I see her ankles taped together.

  Taking in slow breaths I run my eyes up and down her prone body noticing her arms are at a weird angle behind her back, slowly rolling her a little bit, biting off a curse when I see her hands secured together with tape as well.

  “Sonofabitch.”

  Tampering down my anger, I look back to her beautiful face.

  “I’m here, Cora,” I whisper.

  Cupping the side of her cool face, but her eyes don’t even flutter.

  Placing two shaking fingers against her neck, I feel for a pulse.

  It takes a minute, but it’s there, faint but there.

  My heartbeat pounds in my ears, worried if I move her it would cause more harm.

  “Jebson, we need an ambulance NOW!” I shout over my shoulder.

  My gut twists when I pull my fingers away, they are covered in blood.

  “It’s on its way,” he shouts back.

  Leaning over, I rest my lips against the crown of her head.

  Closing my eyes.

  I try to take a few calming breaths, praying to anyone that’s listening for a fucking miracle.

  Cora has struggled to piece herself together all her life, I said I would be there but the moment she broke again I wasn’t there to catch her as I promised.

  My mind feels
foggy, sluggish, like a giant jigsaw and I’m struggling to place all the pieces.

  I ache from head to toe.

  I feel like weights are weighing down my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  Flashes go off in my brain of snapshots of time throwing me back into a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.

  I try to scream but nothing comes out, my world tilts and everything starts to spin in circles.

  I scream again, but it comes out muffled.

  Something is over my mouth, my hands and feet won’t move.

  There is nothing I can do to save myself.

  My head hits something hard, it pounds from front to back.

  Blood, so much blood, runs down my face.

  The metallic scent creeps up my nose.

  My eyes blink open, trying to focus, but everything stays a hazy blur.

  The smell of blood is overtaken by the scent of Diesel and coolant.

  Voices shout, heavy footfalls get closer, but I can’t hold on.

  I try to fight my body’s reaction to automatically shut down, but it’s no use.

  I'm too weak.

  A cool chill overtakes me making me shake.

  The sound of metal grinding rings off in the distance.

  I feel like I am in a tunnel.

  Nothing but darkness surrounds me begging me to just let go and surrender, so that’s what I do.

  I let go, I’m floating, my mind clears, the weight on my chest finally releases me.

  I'm still sore all over and my head pounds, but I no longer feel lost.

  Piece by piece, everything starts to click into place.

  Warmth surrounds me as hushed words float around me but they seem to bleed into each other, into the blackness.

  I’m free-falling into darkness and it doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

  There’s a spark there.

  As if silently telling me it’s okay, and I hold on to that feeling as it consumes me.

  “I’m here, Little Mare,” rough words reach my ears, pulling me from the fog in my head.

  The scent of Antiseptic with an undertone of bleach is the next thing I register before a horrific beeping sound soon follows.

  An alarm to my right rings through my head, making the dull thud of pain begin to pound as if a band has set up residence in my head making me cringe.

  “It’s time to wake up Beautiful,” that voice says again, I realize it’s Nash I’m hearing.

  I try to move, but my body doesn’t want to cooperate.

  Panic hits me, a whimper slides up my throat, but it comes out a low whine.

  Wincing when pain shoots through me.

  I try to breathe, wanting to force my body to do something.

  My eyelids feel heavy as I go to open them.

  The movement is slow as they crack open and a slither of light makes me close them again.

  Mentally shaking myself off, I try again.

  This time they open, but nothing is in focus.

  Blinking a few more times, but even that feels like it takes me forever to do.

  What the hell happened to me?

  Everything seems melded together, outlines and colours.

  My eyes won’t focus.

  “Cora,” Nash gasps to my left.

  I feel the warmth from his hand engulfing mine.

  Before I can do anything my eyes close on their own accord.

  I will them to open again when a pained sound reaches my ears, but it’s no use as darkness wins over once again.

  A rustling sound pushes through the mugginess swimming through my head and again I will my eyes to open, but once again they don’t want to corporate.

  I don’t know how long I have been like this.

  Every time I come to, everything hurts.

  It could have been hours, days, or even weeks.

  I wouldn’t have a clue.

  Ahhhhh… I hate this.

  I feel betrayed by my own body.

  I want to scream and shout at the injustice of it all as my eyes glass over and tears begin to leak out the corner of my closed lids.

  Something soft touches the side of my face and all I want to do is lean into the touch, but again my body won’t allow it.

  Giving up, I try to concentrate on the sounds around the room.

  The low hum of machines mixed with the sound of constant beeping floats around me, telling me I’m in a hospital.

  I try to remember how I got here, but nothing is coming.

  The last thing I remember was having dinner with Nash and his family.

  Laughing and singing along to the jukebox.

  “She should be awake by now,” the pain in Nash’s voice hits me hard and all I want to do is hold him and soothe the pain away.

  “Mr Steel, you have to give her time. Miss Hope’s body has gone through a major trauma. She is lucky to be alive. Be thankful that her eyes opened.”

  “You listen to me Doc,” he growls out.

  “That’s enough Nash,” that sweet voice belongs to June.

  Oh god is everyone here?

  “Fuck,” he grunts.

  “Thank you, Doctor Harris,” June says kindly.

  “Mum,” Nash's voice is so strained and low it’s like a little boy.

  “I know son, but yelling and screaming is not going to make her heal any faster.”

  “I know that,” he gruffs out.

  The scrape of a chair sliding across the floor pushes through some of the fog in my head before warmth engulfs my hand again, comforting me.

  “It’s been nearly a week and a half mum, what if she never wakes up?” he chokes out, pulling at my heart again.

  More tears begin to roll down my cheeks before a soft tissue catches them, a soft kiss to my forehead settles the tears.

  “She is strong, don’t give up on her.”

  “Never,” he rushes out and I feel his hand squeeze mine tighter.

  “I mean,” he pauses.

  “I don’t fucking know, I just need her to wake up.”

  “She will,” she sighs.

  I relax a little, feeling nails slide down the side of my face in a soft caress.

  All I want to do is move, squeeze Nash’s hand in return just to let him know I am still here or at least open my eyes, but I’m stuck in between and I hate it.

  “Come back to me, Beautiful. We were only just starting a new chapter in our story.

  So you do what you gotta do to heal, but you fight to come back to me. Just one more fight baby and I promise this time I will be there to catch you and help you piece yourself back together again,” that smooth whiskey whisper in my ear runs through me.

  Any lingering panic about being trapped inside myself melts away and I’m left floating again. This time I pray that the next time I come to my body cooperates and I can show him I am here and it doesn’t matter what I have to do to become whole again, I’ll do it.

  He told me once I was a survivor and that’s what I will do...

  I want my Happily Ever After, but to get that I have to be brave and SURVIVE…

  Two weeks, that’s how long it’s been.

  Two fucking long ass weeks where I have paced the same area at the end of her bed amazed the floor isn't worn.

  Two weeks I have stared at these dove coloured walls and shitty ass scuffed grey flooring.

  The stupid scenic painting hanging on the wall taunts me with each step.

  The smell of antiseptic is now imprinted itself deep into my pores.

  I swear my fucking heart has synced up with Cora’s heart monitor and I know mine won’t beat properly again till she wakes up.

  Sure her eyes have fluttered open a couple of times and each time I pray that this time she will stay with me but her stare is blank and has lost that sparkle.

  Those multi-coloured depths I have fallen hard and fast for don't seem to be swirling together anymore.

  H
er sweet scent that always draws me in has long since evaporated, her skin has lost her natural light-tanned complexion and I swear to fuck she has lost weight

  She was small to begin with.

  When I told the Doctor that he said it was normal in this situation.

  Nothing about this fucked up situation has been normal.

  “Fuck,” a deep growl rumbles in my chest.

  Gripping my hair in tight fists.

  I continue to pace, needing an outlet for this pent-up frustration building inside of me.

  “Come on son you need to eat,” Dad says pulling me from my fucked up head, shaking my head to indicate I wasn’t interested.

  I keep up the pacing.

  Step after step.

  Breath after breath.

  I keep pacing.

  “You need to eat,” he snaps out.

  A hard edge to his voice I haven’t heard in a long time, pulling me up short in my maddening pace.

  “I can’t eat,” I gruff out.

  “Well, you need to try because you need your strength for when she wakes up.”

  “Three days Dad, three long fucking days ago the doctor gave her that medicine that was supposed to help wake her up and nothing. Not even a flicker of her eyes.”

  I take my seat on the left side of the bed, gathering her small hand in mine.

  “She just needs time Nash.”

  I nod, knowing he is right.

  How much time? I wonder.

  The old clock on the wall keeps ticking.

  Every stroke testing me, taunting me.

  As if it knows any minute now, I am about to lose my fucking mind.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  “Now come on try to eat this,” he hands me a sandwich and like every day since this started my Dad is here trying to force-feed me.

  Because I refuse to leave her side.

  Mum even dropped off a bag of clothes for me because I wouldn’t leave.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Echoes in the back of my mind as I snatch the sandwich out of his hands, knowing just like that fucking clock he won’t stop nagging me.

  Tick.

  Tick.