by J. A. Coffey
"You plan on marrying her?" Enrico puffed again on his cigar.
"I haven't asked her yet, but I intend to."
"You know way too much about my business, Mikolas. I can't let you hang around with everyone knowing you're with my daughter." Enrico shook his head.
"Daddy!"
Enrico got up from the chair and went over to the window, staring intently outside. "Let me finish," he said with his back to them.
"Enrico-" Mik started to say.
Enrico swung around. "I said to let me finish." He went back over to the chair and sat back down.
Gun fire sounded through the air outside. Enrico ran back for his gun that he'd set down on the table. "Some last minute help with Family business?" he asked Mikolas.
"Certainly." Mik grabbed his firearm. Before he went outside, he turned back to Gabrielle. "Stay in here. Don't come out for anything. Got it?"
"Yes," she said. As soon as Mik was outside, she ran for her own pistol.
Chapter Twenty
Mikolas, with his Glock held out in front of him, followed Enrico down the steps.
"Fuck," Enrico yelled as he ran toward the body lying face down on the ground.
"Looks like Rif-"
"It is Rif. It's fucking Rif." Enrico dropped down to his knees next to the still body. He slid his hand over the man's back, probably checking for any breathing even with a bullet wound to his head and a halo of blood spattered on the snow around him.
"Dead?"
"Yep. We have to look for Dom. He either did this or we'll be finding him dead, too."
In response to Enrico's orders, Mikolas stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as he could across the yard, his gun aimed out. He would find the bastard who assassinated Rif. Whoever it was, they were trying to get to Enrico and would take out any of them, including Gabrielle. He had to find the guy first.
Mikolas spotted the next body slumped against the house. Dom's black hair hung around his face, his eyes lifeless. The bullet hole in his chest told the tale of the man's death. A gun laid in the snow underneath his hand. Dom had pulled his gun in surprise but hadn't been quick enough in pulling the trigger.
Who was Mikolas up against? Were his skills better than the killer's or would Mikolas end up in a grave like the two men?
*****
Another round of blasts sounded from outside. It boomed like thunder with a groan following. The victim had to be right by the living room window. Too scared to look, Gabrielle dropped down to her knees. Someone had died out there. She felt it in her heart. One of them just might be her father or Mikolas.
What if it was her father? Her heart ached but she'd already lost her parents when she'd made the decision to be with Mik. She still didn't want him dead. Her mother would need him more than ever before.
What about Mik? How would her life be different? Would she be forced to go off alone without him? Or would her father let her stay in Vegas? She couldn't lose him.
She shook her head. Neither could be dead. She looked toward the ceiling. Please, God, let them live. Tears welled in her eyes and then slid down her cheeks. She rarely cried, but doing so right now felt so good. Real. Refreshing.
Gabrielle heard the window open in the bedroom. She cocked her gun and flipped the lights off. "Mik?" she called out but nobody answered. "Dad?" She walked closer to the bedroom.
She kicked the door open with her sock-covered foot, the door banging against the back wall. Holding the gun in front of her, she peered inside of the room. Nobody was visible. Probably hiding in the bathroom. She'd get the guy even if it was the last thing she did.
She walked into the bedroom, and just for precaution, she looked around the bed. Something hit her full force from behind. Gabrielle flew forward, her gun landing on the bed. She lunged across the floor toward the weapon.
"Gabrielle, stop," Clayton demanded.
Stunned, she turned around to face her attacker. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to kill all of you." His eyes zeroed in on her gun, making her realize that his own had disappeared, and he'd want hers.
"But why?" She slowly inched her way backward against so he wouldn't notice her small movements. It was going to be the battle of the quickest. A battle she intended to win.
"I was sent to kill your dad, but since you all now know my identity now, I have to add you to my list." He tapped his pointer finger against his temple. "Besides, with all of you guys dead, I'll have a bigger pay day." He stepped toward her, glancing at her gun again.
Fear raged through her heart. Her father and Mik must be dead because neither of them would allow him to be in here with her. "Where are they?"
He switched his attention to the window, after a second or two, moved back to her. "Let's get to the money part of all of this."
In a feeble voice, she asked, "So you know about the room?" A bang toward the front of the cabin stole his attention long enough for Gabrielle to take a giant step in the direction of her gun.
He turned back to her. "The vault? Everyone knows. Nobody knew where it was but that, darling, has changed. I know it's here somewhere."
She smiled. He had no actual idea of where it was. Clayton wasn't as clever as he thought. She dove for the gun again, this time swooping it into her hands.
"Drop it," Clayton ordered as he jumped on her. The impact of his body against her chest pushed the air from her lungs in a big giant puff.
She tried swinging the barrel in his direction. He pushed her hands over her head, pinning them against the mattress. He shifted to get a better grip on her. His fingers twisted in her hair, yanking. Pain shot through her scalp. She cried in pain and let go of the gun with one of her hands to reach up to her throbbing head. He lifted his weight off of her but kept his free hand tangled in her hair. He snatched the gun from her hand.
"Clayton, please let me go," she begged as tears rushed down her cheeks.
"Get the fuck up." He yanked on her hair again.
The pain sent her sitting up on the bed. She shifted her gaze over to the bedroom door. If only Mikolas would come through there. Please. Right now. But nobody would be there to save her. They were outside, probably dead in the snow. The earlier gunshot blasts strengthened her belief that someone was dead out there. And she'd be dead inside the cabin soon.
"Let me go and they won't know it's you," she said.
Clayton grabbed her forearm, making her flinch at the strength of his grip. She tried to shake it free, but he squeezed her tighter as he pulled her off the bed and toward the door.
"Move your sweet ass." He was a few inches shorter than her, but his strength overpowered hers.
"Where are we going? What do you want?" With any hope, someone would be alive out there. Maybe if she kept talking, someone would hear her and come in.
"You'll see soon enough." He opened the door and shoved her through. In the process, he let go of her arm to grab her hair again.
"Let go of my hair," she cried out.
He tightened his grip, enough to send a series of stings through her scalp. "Nope. It's easier to keep you in line this way." He paused on the porch to listen for anyone's presence.
A dead body. Her breath caught in her chest. Getting closer to the man wasn't needed to identify him. Rif. She took a step forward, loosening the resistance of her hair between her head and his fist. He pulled a fist-full, sending her butt first against the porch. She bit back a sob.
"Get down the stairs, but don't try running." He pushed her forward with the nuzzle of the gun in between her shoulder blades.
"With no shoes? There's still snow-"
He pushed her down another stair, almost knocking her to her knees. "Why would I let you wear any? So you can run away from me? I don't think so."
She did her best to ignore the cold ground slicing at the bottoms of her bare feet as she tried to steal a glimpse of her father or Mikolas. If they were dead, where were they?
Clayton shoved her around the corner of the cabin and toward
the first set of trees a few feet away. He started to jog, pushing her as he went. Rocks cut at her feet as she trudged over the gravel. She didn't know which hurt more, the pain shooting through her scalp from the asshole constantly pulling at her hair or the rocks and sticks cutting through her soles like a serrated knife slipping through her flesh.
"Get going." He gave her another shove, sending her on her knees.
Burning pain shot across her skin. "My knees," she cried out. Her pants ripped open and blood soaked small slivers of snow between chunks of gravel.
He twisted his hand in a circle, tangling his fingers in the strands even more. "Stop messing with me or you'll have a bullet to deal with instead of a skinned knee."
Someone was alive and moving a large object behind the cabin. Metal clanged together. Maybe the person was looking for her? For Clayton? They weren't hiding or they'd be more careful about the level of noise they were making. If Clayton had shot them, he wouldn't be in such a hurry. She looked in the direction in an attempt to view the person.
"Don't even try it," he hissed. "You have to the count of three to get moving or I'm knocking you out."
"Clayton-"
Please, someone hear us.
"One," he said.
She opened her mouth to scream but glanced at his gun before any sound came out. Screaming would be stupid. If she did that, he'd have a bullet in her temple before anyone could find her alive.
"Two."
"I'm going." She rose up from the ground and tried to take a step in the direction of the trees. His foot hit her in the center of the back. She stumbled forward, her hands catching her fall. The rocks tore into her flesh. She hadn't even noticed he'd let go of her hair until his fingers were twisted around it again, yanking her head back.
She shook her hand as if the action would wipe away the pain. It did nothing to help. Blinking back more tears, she glanced in the direction of the noise. All was silent now and nobody made an attempt to save her. She started walking toward the trees again. Not being able to take any more of the abuse from Clayton, she'd have to go along with what he said until she executed a plan to escape or someone found her.
Once they reached the trees, he pushed her down to the ground. "Be quiet," he whispered.
Mik was alive! Gabrielle's gasped as Mik walked past the cabin, his gun out in front of him. He stopped at the corner and looked right and then left. She needed to get his attention so he'd be able to find her faster and save her from Clayton's clutches.
Before she could even open her mouth, Clayton's breath went against her ear. "I have no business with your boyfriend right now. He hasn't even seen me here yet. Scream and he's dead where he stands."
"But-"
"Maybe you won't die today if you go along with what I say, sweetie-pie. Either I get your dad's money from the vault or I pull Mik's card."
Mikolas looked in their direction.
"Go ahead and scream." Clayton's lips touched her earlobe as he said, "I dare you."
Clayton's breath sent prickles down her body. His mouth smelled rancid as if he hadn't brushed his teeth in a year, causing her to gag. She wanted away from him with every fiber of her being but wanted Mikolas to live much more than that. She couldn't bear the idea of Mik being dead, face down in the snow as Rif was.
Mike turned away from them and rounded the corner of the cabin. His footsteps climbing the stairs echoed through the air. The front door of the cabin slammed shut. She shuddered as the acknowledgment hit her like the winter storm. She was alone with Clayton. And she might die.
"Take me wherever we're going." She stood up. "It's now or never." She let her gaze drop down to the ground. It didn't matter that her feet were numb or the knee of her sweats was covered in blood. It didn't matter that the palm of her hand felt like someone had stuck a butcher knife through the meat. None of it mattered. None of her physical pain mattered compared to the idea of not ever seeing Mikolas again.
The cabin door opened another time, followed by stomping feet crossing the porch. "Gabi!" Mik's voice rang out through the darkness.
*****
"What's wrong with Gabi?" Enrico said as he ran through the cabin door.
"Gone." He didn't even wait for a reply. He threw another clip into his Glock as he ran out the front door. The night was cold and she didn't even have her shoes. The motherfucker had taken her from Mikolas. Clayton was a dead man.
The pounding of footsteps on the stairs behind Mikolas confirmed him of Enrico's participation in the hunt. "Go that way," Mik said. He pointed to the right of the cabin even though he had a hunch where they'd be.
Clayton hadn't come the entire way to the cabin by car. He had to be headed to a nearby cabin or down the main road. Mikolas would bet money on the first option. The latter was too out in the open. Clayton was a sly little fuck, but clever, nonetheless. But no matter how sly or clever, he couldn't compete with the skills of Mikolas.
"We've checked all around the cabin. They're not here," Enrico said. "I'll go down the road."
He gave Enrico a quick nod before running in the direction of the woods. The blood on the ground stopped him in his tracks. "Enrico."
"Find something?"
"They went this way. There's blood." He couldn't say the last part of the thought. Gabi's blood. Clayton's murder was the one kill he was truly going to enjoy performing. Nobody would ever get away with hurting Gabi.
"My daughter," Enrico breathed when he reached the blood splattered ground.
"Come on," Mik said as he ran toward the woods. He followed the trail of blood spots and quickly found another saturated area behind a tree.
Enrico pointed to the large spot in the snow. "She had to be sitting here. Look at the blood over there."
"She's hurt and barefoot with only a t-shirt and jeans." Fear clenched his gut and twisted it like a hurricane. Gabi has to be okay.
"Even if her wounds are superficial, she's at risk of hypothermia."
Mikolas didn't have time to answer. He trudged forward through the deepening snow. Blood splotches stood out to him like the moon in the inky black sky. Those splotches would show him the way. And when he got there-
"Clayton's a dead man and I'm going to enjoy every second," Enrico said, breaking into Mikolas' thoughts.
"Exactly." Mikolas scanned the area around them. "Are there any cabins up here?"
Enrico motioned off to the right. "About another half mile."
"That's far when you're barefooted."
"Let's get our girl." Enrico huffed along as he kept pace with Mikolas. Mik was proud of the old man for doing what it took to save his daughter but knew only a bullet would stop Enrico from saving her. Clayton better be well prepared.
"Should we kill him quick, Mikolas? Or stretch it out some?"
Mikolas smiled for the first time since Enrico's arrival. It wasn't a smile of happiness but one of revenge. "Stretch it out. He's going to pay for what he's done."
Chapter Twenty-One
Her legs were cramping up, probably from the cold, and she could barely feel her feet. Both of her feet felt like they'd gone to sleep even though she'd been walking a long way. Standing proved unbearable.
A cabin came into view and provided a relief to her. Maybe Clayton would let her clean her cuts and rest. She'd be able to sit down at the very least. He wouldn't be that cruel, would he? Or why was she trying to fool herself?
"We're going in there."
Good. "But what if there is someone here?"
"I checked around in town. The mountain has been evacuated." He pushed her toward the steps, banging her cut knee against the wood of the porch.
"Stop pushing me. I'm doing what you want." She glared at him.
"Get up the steps."
She grabbed the rail and pulled herself to a standing position and limped up the four stairs. It seemed like an impossible task, but she made it without him pushing on her again. With nothing else to hold on to, she took a few wobbly steps toward the front door. Sh
e reached for the knob and found it locked. Ha ha, Clayton. Bet you didn't plan on that factor.
Clayton skipped down the steps. He snatched a large rock from the side of the driveway and returned. He took no time for second thoughts before slamming the rock against the large picture window. Glass blew into the living room.
"Don't try anything. You can't run and I'll have some great target practice from here." He climbed through the busted window and had the front door unlocked and open within a few seconds.
"Come on in, darling." His grin broadened as if he thought his plan had actually worked. Of course this would come crashing down around him. Mikolas would find her.
"Screw you." She tried her best to shove past him but with her injuries, she didn't provide much force with the shove.
"If you insist but won't loverboy be a little upset?"
She kept her back to him as she made her way to the bathroom. The cabin was smaller than her father's but just as expensive.
"Were do you think you're going?" he called after her.
"To clean this blood off me," she yelled as she pulled the bathroom door shut behind her. She would've loved to lock the door but the handle didn't have one.
Maroon hand towels hung on the bar next to the sink while little decorative soaps sat in the dish on the marbled counter top. Dog shapes. She rolled her eyes as she turned the tap on and let the water run. While she waited, she rummaged through the drawers. Maybe the first aid kit would be in the shape of a dog, too. She wouldn't care as long as these people actually had one.
"Thank God," she whispered as she found it in the bottom drawer. And the kit didn't resemble a cute little puppy as she'd expected from the rest of the décor, including the bathmat in front of the tub. She took one of the pretty towels that probably had never been used for anything other than to look at, off the rack and soaked it with warm water. She sat down on the back of the toilet and flinched at the pain as she pulled one foot into her lap to assess the damage.
Bruises had already formed around the slice marks. No blood anymore, only raw, open wounds. It looked like someone had scribbled on her foot with a fillet knife. She brought the wet towel an inch away. Pausing, she bit her lip. Cleaning the wound was going to hurt like hell. The first touch of towel proved her theory to be correct. Not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, she swallowed her cry of pain.