Fractured (Dividing Line #4)

by Heather Atkinson

  A cry of agony filled the air when Ryan saw the state his wife was in. With a roar of rage he pumped bullets into one of the MC crew.

  “Rachel, no,” Ryan yelled, racing to her side as the others finished off what remained of Alex’s men, Frankie lunging at a screaming Dom with his axe.

  Rachel’s eyes found her husband’s and filled with relief that he was okay.

  “Just hang on Babe, we’ll get you to hospital,” he said desperately, clutching her hand. He was appalled by how battered she was, her face so swollen she was barely recognisable. “There’s so much fucking blood. What’s he done to her?”

  “Apart from her throat she has several stab wounds and he beat her black and blue,” replied Beth.

  “Riley,” called Ryan, knowing he had more experience in battlefield medicine than Beth did.

  When Riley looked at Rachel he froze, her face merging with Zoe’s in his mind and he wanted to unleash the scream of despair welling in his throat.

  “Riley,” Ryan shouted, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “She’s still alive and she needs your help.”

  This snapped Riley out of it and he ran to her side. Not daring to check the pulse in her neck he pressed his fingertips to her wrist instead and was frightened by how weak it was. “She needs stabilising before we can even think of moving her, she wouldn’t survive the journey.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Ryan, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

  “We can’t have the fucking emergency services seeing this, we need to do a clean-up,” said Frankie, placing Dom’s severed hand in a Tupperware box.

  “Tough because she needs an ambulance,” retorted Riley.

  Frankie jammed on the lid of the tub. “I don’t think you’ve grasped who you’re fucking talking to Pal.”

  “I don’t give a shit who I’m talking to. She can’t be moved.”

  None of them noticed Robbie Jordan slip out while they were all distracted, nursing an injured left arm.

  Their argument was interrupted by the wail of sirens.

  “Someone must have heard the gunfire.” said Ryan. “Get out, all of you. I’ll stay. If they catch you here you’ll all be nicked.”

  “No fucking way,” said Riley and Jez in unison.

  “Go,” he said. “You’ve done so much for me and I’ll not see you go to prison for it.”

  “You will tell them nothing. Do you understand?” said Frankie. “I’m not having nosey bastard polis sticking their beaks in my business. You make that fucker out to be an innocent bystander,” he said, jabbing a digit at a prone Alex.

  “Innocent?” exclaimed Mikey.

  “Oh aye. If they think they can pin something on him they’ll look into his business activities and I am not going down because of him.”

  “Fine. Take these,” he said, handing Jez his gun, knife and gloves. He looked to Beth. “Where are the kids?”

  “Office.”

  “Get them.”

  “Alright. You need to hold the cut, keep the two edges pressed together. On three?”

  He nodded.

  “One, two, three.”

  She released the wound and Ryan took hold. “Sorry Sweetheart,” he said, a tear finally managing to escape and slide down his face when she whimpered with pain.

  “He didn’t cut the arteries. She can survive this,” Beth told him firmly.

  Mikey tugged at her arm. “Let’s go.”

  Beth ran into the office and Archie and Holly rushed up to her. She pulled them into a hug. “Alfie’s not here,” she panicked.

  “He’s in my car. Now come on,” replied Mikey, picking up Archie while Beth carried Holly. “Don’t look,” he told the boy, pushing his face into his shoulder so he couldn’t see the carnage or the body of his own father. They raced outside, Frankie following.

  As he ran for the exit Riley caught sight of the Lucifer’s Shadow patches on two of the dead bodies and he stopped, struggling with his rage and shock at the sight. Jez had to pull him from the building.

  Ryan sighed with relief that they’d gone. Now he could concentrate on Rachel. “Please stay with me Babe, don’t you dare leave me.”

  Her eyes were wide with fear and pain and all he could do was whisper to her and kiss her forehead, holding the skin of her throat together. He felt her warm sticky blood soaking into his clothes, her skin growing paler and breathing shallower.

  A strange gurgle sounded in the back of her throat, her lips moving silently and he got the impression she was talking to him.

  “What is it Sweetheart?”

  “Photo,” she managed to whisper.

  “What photo?”

  She muttered something else incoherent and tears of frustration prickled his eyes. “I’m sorry Babe, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

  Her hand patted the pocket of her jeans.

  “There’s a photo in your pocket?” he said.

  “Yes,” she rasped.

  He slid one hand into the pocket she indicated, careful to keep the wound closed with the other and pulled out the photo with bloody fingers.

  “Keep,” she whispered, eyes starting to close. “Find her.”

  “I will, I promise,” he said, shoving the photo into his shoe in case he was searched. “Stay awake Rachel,” he yelled when she began to lapse into unconsciousness. “Please don’t go, I love you, I love you,” he said, dipping his head to kiss her battered face. Her scared eyes remained fixed on his face. For the first time in his life he couldn’t wait for the emergency services to arrive. The sirens grew louder and louder until finally a convoy of vehicles pulled up outside, armed police swarming the area, yelling at Ryan to hold up his hands but there was no way he was releasing his grip.

  “I can’t,” he called back at them. “She’s had her throat cut, I can’t let go of the wound.”

  Cautiously they crept into the building, Heckler and Koch’s trained on him. They checked him for weapons and he was incredibly grateful that they didn’t make him put up his hands. Then they checked the rest of the room.

  “Please, get the Paramedics in here,” begged Ryan.

  But they wouldn’t allow it until they were sure all the dead bodies were no longer a threat. He could see the paramedics through the open door itching to get in, able to see the state Rachel was in.

  “Help, please,” Ryan called to them when they were finally allowed through.

  “Alright, you can let go now,” he was told.

  Ryan released her and moved back to give them space. The wound was clamped and covered with gauze while the second paramedic wrestled with a drip. Ryan crouched by Rachel’s side stroking her hair, watching them work.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Rachel. Rachel Law. I’m her husband.”

  “Rachel, can you hear me?” called one of the paramedics when her eyes started to close.

  Uniformed and plain clothes officers swarmed the area. Ryan’s heart sank when he saw DCI Taylor stride in. He’d investigated Thomas’s death and got nowhere. He was also in Alex’s pocket.

  “What the hell happened here?” he demanded of Ryan.

  “They took Rachel,” replied Ryan, his eyes never leaving his wife.

  “Who did?”

  He gestured to the room. “All of them.”

  “And him?” he said, jabbing a finger at Alex’s inert form.

  “He was trying to help me get her out. He came in first and got shot. I arrived a few minutes later and found them all like this.” It stuck in his throat to make Alex out to be a hero but he had little choice. “He got shot trying to help her.”

  Taylor’s eyes filled with doubt. “Are you sure he was trying to help?”

  “Yes.”

  Taylor knew he was lying but he couldn’t figure out why. However, in Ryan Law he saw his chance to get rid of Alex Maguire once and for all.

  The questioning was interrupted when Rachel started to violently shake, eyes rolling back in her head.

  “What’s happ
ening?” Ryan demanded, throwing himself down at her side.

  “She’s going into shock. Stand back,” the paramedics told him

  He watched in horror as her t-shirt was cut open and paddles applied to her chest.

  “Please Rachel please,” whispered Ryan, letting his tears flow freely. Her spine arched with the force of the current passing through her body and he looked to the paramedics hopefully. One of them checked her pulse and shook his head.

  “Again.”

  The paddles were applied again and this time the paramedic nodded. “We’ve got her,” he told Ryan.

  “Thank you,” he breathed. “Rachel stay with me. Me and the kids need you.”

  In response her eyes flickered open and fixated on him before turning vacant and sliding shut.

  “We need to move her. Now,” one of the paramedics told Taylor, who nodded.

  “Ryan I need you to come with me to the station,” said Taylor.

  “I’m not leaving her.”

  “You can come voluntarily or I can nick you.”

  Ryan shot to his feet and thrust his face into Taylor’s. “If you do I’ll tell everyone here you’re in Alex’s pocket. It won’t take much to prove it, just a look into your bank accounts.”

  Taylor’s face turned white with fury. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “I’m not going to do a runner. The only place I’m going to be is by her side. You can speak to me at the hospital.”

  He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Alright but we need to talk.”

  “We will but right now I need to concentrate on my wife.”

  “Go on then.”

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely and Taylor nodded.

  “You’re getting a police escort,” Taylor called to him as he returned to Rachel.

  Ryan just nodded, watching as Rachel was carefully loaded onto a stretcher.

  “This one’s still alive,” someone shouted.

  Ryan’s blood ran cold. He turned to see a young police officer with his fingertips pressed to Alex’s neck. All he could do was watch as a second team of paramedics rushed in.

  “He’s not breathing,” said one of the paramedics, placing a mask over his mouth and pumping air into him.

  Die, just die, Ryan prayed as they worked on Alex. Every muscle in his body grew tense, he’d never wanted anyone’s death so much before.

  Taylor watched thinking exactly the same thing, willing with all his soul that Alex Maguire did the world a favour and snuffed it.

  Alex’s eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply. Ryan sighed and shook his head in disbelief. Why couldn’t the bastard just have the decency to die?

  CHAPTER 32

  The doors burst open as the hospital staff hauled the gurney towards theatre, all of them frantically yelling. Despite all the noise Ryan couldn’t hear a thing. He was on autopilot, unable to speak, feeling as though he were drifting through a dream. The only one of his senses working was sight, his eyes riveted to Rachel. She’d lost consciousness in the ambulance and hadn’t woken up since. He gripped her bloodied, bruised hand for dear life.

  “You have to let go now Mr Law. Sir, please,” said the nurse, prising his hand from Rachel’s when he failed to respond.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, finally finding his voice and releasing her. He watched as she was rushed into surgery, her hand hanging limply from the side of the gurney.

  He remained standing there, unsure of what to do and not wanting to leave her in case the worst happened. The uniformed PC accompanying him who had said his name was Starkey remained at a discreet distance, also unsure what he should do.

  Taking pity on Ryan, one of the nurses came back out of theatre.

  “You can wait in the Relative’s Room, we’ll keep you updated on her progress.”

  “Will she be okay?” he said, voice cracking.

  “We’ll keep you updated,” was all she was willing to reply. “The Relative’s Room is just down there, there’s a toilet next to it, you might want to have a wash,” she said before disappearing back into theatre.

  Ryan shuffled off in the direction the nurse had indicated, Starkey following. He’d never felt so lost in his entire life.

  “I need to go in here,” he told Starkey, his voice flat and tired.

  “Okay, I’ll wait right here,” the PC replied, taking up guard duty.

  Ryan hurried inside and locked the door then proceeded to wash his hands, watching the water turn red. He didn’t dare look in the mirror, unable to bear the sight of Rachel’s blood all over him. When his hands were eventually clean he sank to the floor and started to cry, careful to stifle the sound so Starkey couldn’t hear through the door.

  “Mr Law, are you okay in there?” he called when he’d been quiet for a while.

  “Yeah,” he called, wiping his eyes and dragging himself to his feet. He opened the door and he must have looked bad because the copper’s eyes filled with sympathy.

  “Do you want a coffee?” he asked Ryan.

  “Err, yeah thanks. Black no sugar.”

  “Why don’t you take a seat in the Relative’s Room and I’ll fetch it,” he said before walking over to the vending machine. He didn’t even ask him for any money.

  The Relative’s Room was overly hot but comfortable with a couch and a big cosy armchair. Ryan slumped into the armchair and took out his phone.

  “Jez, please come to the hospital. Quickly,” he said, grinding the heel of his palm into his eyes, trying not to cry. “I need you.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “Bring Riley and Mikey.”

  He hung up and buried his face in his hands. Starkey entered the room, placed his coffee on the table beside him then left to stand guard on the door.

  By the time Jez arrived with Mikey and Riley, Ryan had himself back under control. When Jez walked in he shot to his feet and embraced his brother, desperately seeking comfort. Jez was surprised at first then relaxed and held onto him for as long as he needed. “How is she?” he asked Ryan.

  “I don’t know. They took her into surgery, they won’t tell me anything.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” said Riley, anxious to get out of the room, marching in the direction of the theatres. He’d looked like Ryan the day Zoe had died, distraught and covered in her blood. He’d thought helping Ryan get Rachel out alive would atone for how he’d failed Zoe and finally put his demons to rest. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if he failed again.

  “How’s Rachel Law?” said Riley, grabbing the arm of a passing nurse.

  “Who?”

  He sighed with frustration and released her, grabbing a doctor instead on his way into theatre. “Rachel Law?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is.”

  “For fuck’s sake, does anyone know what’s going on?” he yelled.

  “I’ll try and find out for you. Do you know which theatre she’s in?”

  “No idea.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  The man disappeared and Riley dragged his hands through his hair, Zoe’s screams filling his head. He screwed his eyes tight shut and massaged his temples. “Stop it, please.”

  “I’m fine, stop fussing,” said Ryan as Jez helped him to the couch.

  “No you’re not and there’s no shame in admitting it,” he replied.

  “Can I get you anything?” said Mikey.

  “A huge glass of scotch,” mumbled Ryan.

  “I think the best I can do here is a bottle of surgical spirit.” He sat beside Ryan. “Rachel is going to make it. Have some faith.”

  “I think I’ve run out of that.”

  “She will pull through, I’m telling you.”

  “What did you tell the coppers?” said Jez.

  “That Rachel was kidnapped and Alex got shot trying to help her. You lot know nothing, okay? It’s simpler that way.”

  “Did they swallow it?”

  “No. I spoke to DCI Taylor, you remember him?”

  “Oh shit, is he
in charge?” said Mikey. “He’s in Alex’s pocket.”

  “I know. He wanted to nick me until I threatened to tell his colleagues about him.”

  “That’s why there’s a guard on the door?”

  “Yes, to make sure I won’t do one, as if I would. It gets worse. Alex is still alive.”

  “Oh fuck,” said Mikey and Jez in unison.

  “Shit, we should have checked,” continued Mikey. “Why didn’t we?”

  “Because he looked dead,” said Jez. “Let’s hope he doesn’t survive surgery.”

  Ryan recalled the photograph Rachel had given him and pulled it out of his shoe. He held it up for them to see. “Do either of you know who this is?”

  They both shook their heads.

  He turned it over in his hands. “Sabine Jansons.”

  “Where did you get it?” said Jez.

  “Rachel gave it to me back at the warehouse. She said I had to find her. That’s all I know.”

  “That name sounds foreign,” said Mikey. “Maybe she was from Alex’s brothel?”

  “Strang said one of the women helped her escape,” interjected Jez. “What if that was her price for helping her, finding her sister?”

  “It’s more than likely Laila’s dead,” said Ryan. “If she died trying to help Rachel then it would become even more important to her that she keep her end of the bargain.”

  They were distracted by Riley bursting into the room. “Ryan, she’s okay, she made it through surgery. This is the guy who operated on her,” he said, standing aside to allow the man in a shirt and tie, sleeves rolled up, to enter.

  Ryan leapt to his feet and grabbed the man by the shoulders. “She’s really okay?”

  The surgeon smiled kindly. “Your wife has great determination and strength. It helped her get through. She lost quite a lot of blood, which sent her into shock but we stopped the bleeding and gave her a transfusion. None of the wounds are serious, although she may be left with some scarring.”

  “But he cut her throat,” said Ryan, voice harsh. His tears were drying up to be replaced with a rage so potent it burned him from the inside out.

  “But the arteries weren’t damaged. She has some stitches in her neck but I anticipate she’ll recover with no long term effects, other than the scarring.”