by S. R. Jones
Down the stairs I see two doors. One is closed and the other open. I make a quick sweep of the open room and take in the single bed and the lamp, and my gut clenches. He planned on keeping her here, the sick fuck. So why isn’t she in this room?
“There’s some keys here.” Maggie points to a hook along the stone wall with four sets of keys dangling from it.
I grab them and start methodically working my way through them on door number two. I can hear Cara now from the other side crying and shouting, and my progress is slowed by the fact my hands are shaking.
Finally, one of the keys fits and turns. I swing the door open and there she is. She looks unharmed from what I can see. No marks or visible bruises other than a red left cheek.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods but she’s trembling and the tears are still falling.
I take in the room she’s been in and rage makes me see black for a moment. There’s a fucking dog cage in one corner and a dog bowl. I’m not only going to kill him, I’m going to enjoy it.
“Come here.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my side, needing to touch her.
Maggie is crying now, too, and she hugs Cara as well.
“You okay to walk out of here?” I ask. “We’ll go out the back because Tristan is in the kitchen.”
“You were right.” Cara looks at Maggie. “You never liked him.”
“I had no idea of how sick he was, hon. I disliked him, but I failed to spot the signs. I feel like I failed you as your friend.”
“No, you didn’t. You warned me off him and I didn’t listen. Thought I knew better.” She turns to me and looks up at me with those huge blue eyes of hers. “How did you find me?”
“With help from my friends.” I take her hand in mine and relish it. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
We get to the back of the house and out into the garden and I hand Cara to Maggie. “I have to stay,” I tell Cara. She starts to shake her head and cry, so I tip her chin up. “You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you. Maggie will take you with her, okay? But I need to stay, baby. I’ve got to call the police.”
“There’s something you should know.” I hesitate saying it to her. Will she think I’m as bad as Tristan when I say it? “I think Tristan might be dying. He came at me with a knife, and I defended myself, but he hit his head on the stone flooring.”
“Luka was defending me, too.” Maggie speaks up. “Tristan even had a gun.”
Cara gasps and I look over her head at Maggie. An understanding passes between us. She doesn’t want Cara to have to lie, and she knows if Tristan’s not dead already he will be when I finish with him. She nods at me once.
“He had a gun, aimed it at me, but Luka ran into him. He dropped the gun and I picked it up. I fired it, but only into the air to try and scare Tristan. Luka went for him again, and Tristan cut him with a knife. Luka punched him and Tristan fell and hit his head. He hit it hard.”
With those words, Maggie is telling me as much as Cara what her side of the story is. Useful for when I speak to the police.
“Go on.” I jerk my head towards the small gravel road. “Take her home, Maggie. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I head back into the kitchen and Tristan is still on the floor. He’s not moving. I kneel and put my fingers to his throat. Shit, there’s a pulse but it’s weak and rapid. Blood is pooling under him and I lift his head. It’s bleeding heavily. Head wounds often do. If I do nothing will he die anyway? I notice some fluid leaking out of his right ear. Not a good sign. He’s unconscious, probably leaking brain fluid. Yet, he might survive. But he’s so injured I don’t know how I can finish him off without leaving a clear indication I did it in cold blood.
Fuck!
I take my burner phone out of my back pocket and call Liam on his undisclosed, untraceable number.
“Yeah.” He answers on the first ring.
“Can you talk safely?”
“Give me two.”
I hear footsteps as I wait, and then a door closes.
“Go ahead.”
I lay it all out for him. He tells me to rub Tristan’s forehead and sternum hard, which I do, with no response.
After I’ve gone through it all with him, he sighs. “Can’t say for definite, mate. But sounds like he’s either a goner, or at best he’s going to be seriously fucked up. I doubt he’s going to be a danger to your girl any time soon. On the other hand, you finish him off now and you leave yourself wide open to significant prison time if you leave evidence you did this in cold blood. And you’re not a murderer, and don’t know how to kill someone without a trace, so you probably will leave evidence. This way, it’s clear cut self-defense. You hit him, he went down. You have Maggie’s testimony. Your testimony. Even if he does come around and start to shoot his mouth off, who are the authorities going to believe?”
His next words echo my own to Tristan. “A guy who kidnapped a woman and has a juvie file to make your hair stand on end, or a war hero? I think you need to call the cops and the ambulance and let this play out.” There’s a heavy pause and another sigh. “Look, if he does somehow recover from this. I know someone who will take him out for you. No questions, no mess, no trace back to you. I think you’ve got to leave it for now and see how this goes. Your woman is going to need you, brother. Don’t fuck this up.”
I hang up and do exactly as Liam says. As much as I am itching to wrap my hands around Tristan’s throat and throttle the life out of him, I don’t. I call 999, and then make sure to put the gun in his hands for a while. I leave it on the floor by the stove, which ties in with Maggie’s story. It won’t matter if our accounts don’t fully line up. People get things wrong when recalling intense and stressful situations, and the police know as much. Eye witness accounts are notoriously flaky.
When I’m done, I’m feeling faint and sick, and my arm is still bleeding heavily. It’s not spurting so I don’t think he got an artery, but it’s a constant flow. I rummage around in his drawers and find a tea towel. I wrap it around my arm tight, and raise it up. I slide to the stone floor and wait.
Sirens ring out in the quiet of the room and I thank God they’re here. I’ve lost a lot of blood, and I’m going to need stitches. The cut is a mess because the knife was jagged, but sharp as shit. I hope it was clean.
Boots running across the grass sound in the room. Four heavily armed police stream into the house, weapons drawn. They see Tristan on the floor and me. They yell at me to raise my arms. I do as they say, and they come over and start patting me down, and then Tristan.
While they are doing this I calmly ask the one checking me over if I can tell him what happened. He nods, and so I tell them the same story I hope Maggie will relay. It’s not all that far from the truth, either, which makes it easier.
“The victim should have waited here for medical attention.” The officer is waving over a paramedic. “And we need to talk to her, and the other witness.”
“They’re driving a BMW.” I give him the license plate to my car. “Maggie is taking Cara to the hospital right now, so if you call it in your colleagues can meet them there. I wanted her out of here, didn’t know if it was safe.”
He looks back at Tristan, tied and bleeding from his head, and raises his brow at me. “Looks pretty fucking safe to me.”
I shrug. “He’s insane. I didn’t want her here a minute longer than she needed to be.”
The paramedic is unwrapping the tea towel and I wince as he pulls the fibers away from the wound. He whistles. “Someone is going to be having surgery.”
I nod. “Think it went through the muscle.” I waggle my fingers. “But thankfully my tendons seem okay.”
“You medically trained or something?”
“I was in the military.” I name drop the shit out of my career this time, instead of keeping quiet about it as usual. “Royal Marines, and then in the Special Forces Seen a lot of action, so I know a bit about medical stuff.”
The cop
per looks at me and I see new respect in his eyes. More paramedics are looking at Tristan now, and one starts to take the zip-ties off him. The copper holds his hand up. “Don’t do that until I can get over there. I need to restrain him.”
By the time they’re done messing about with us both, my arm is throbbing and I want to see Cara.
They load us into separate ambulances, one armed copper with me, two with Tristan, and then we’re off, lights and sirens on.
I lie back and close my eyes, and hope to God Cara still wants me when she gets over all this.
Cara Fifteen
He saved me.
He found me and came for me. I’d already decided I wanted him, wanted to fight for him. But now, I’ll do all I can to make Luka see he’s want I want. What I need. I don’t view him as a danger to me at all. And Maggie talked to me as we waited for me to be seen by the doctors. She told me how there’s treatment for night terrors. But I’m not scared of Luka anymore. I love him, and it’s been hard won. We aren’t easy. He’s a hard man, in every way, and I know I’m a difficult woman. Add in our baggage and you have one difficult relationship starting point. However, nothing work having is easy, and we’ll work through it, together.
Love. The word terrifies me, but it also grounds me, anchors me as I struggle to come to terms with all that’s happened.
How did Tristan fool everyone? At first, I’d been beating myself up over my inability to see him for who he truly is, but Maggie pointed out she’d missed it, and so had Luka. And she says Luka was used for getting intel in the military due to supposedly being great at reading people. I’m not the only one who failed to see how dangerous Tristan was.
Maggie is sat beside me now, sipping at a coffee. She’s a hero to me. She put herself in huge danger when she knocked on Tristan’s door. She’s told the policewoman who asked us both questions everything that happened, and I can’t believe the risk she took. For those minutes alone in that room with Tristan, she put herself into the sort of danger most of us spend our lives avoiding. And she did it for me.
My eyes tear up again when I contemplate her actions. I’ve always thought of her and Laura as being like my family, but now I realize they are family. They took me under their wing, and no matter what happens in my life, they’ll always be a part of it.
I love them both dearly. I only hope Luka will be part of my life, too. That he’s gotten all those crazy ideas of not being good enough out of his head.
The doctors say I am okay physically, but I’ll need some help to deal with this. To process the trauma.
I’ve promised Maggie, that unlike after the death of my parents and Dane’s betrayal, this time I’ll attend therapy, and do all I can to heal myself. I want to be well, physically and mentally. For me, and for Luka. To give us the best start.
I’m not sure how much of a chance two people with issues as deep as ours have, but I’m going to give it my best shot, because I want him with me.
There’s a knock at the door, and a tall, broad man, with close cropped hair, followed by a blond giant, enters the room. “Hi Cara,” he says. “I’m Liam, and this is Reece. We’re friends of Luka’s. He’s here at the hospital. Do you want to see him?”
Do I? Yes, I bloody well do. I nod and grin, and Reece smiles at me. The man is huge. Scary big, but his face is warm and friendly. He’s good looking. Liam too, although his face is a bit threatening. Harsh, and those brown eyes of his seem to see into your very soul.
“He’s up on the surgical ward,” Liam says.
“Is he okay?” I feel sick how so many people put themselves in harm’s way because of me.
“He will be,” Reece says. “That fucker cut his arm deep, but they’re going to sort him out. Stitch him up. Thought you’d want to see him before they start.”
“Yes, please.”
A nurse comes in with a wheelchair. I start to object, because I’m more than capable of walking, but she starts talking about rules, and it’s quicker to do as she says.
Once I’m sat in the chair, Reece pushes me out of the room, Liam and Maggie walking beside me. But as we reach the door a man approaches Maggie, announcing himself as a detective and saying he needs to speak to her.
“Are Luka and Maggie going to be in trouble?” I ask Liam as Reece pushes me down the long, beige corridor.
“Shouldn’t be. It was all in self-defense. Tristan might die, though. How do you feel about that?”
He fixes me with that perceptive gaze of his, and I think about his question. “Sad, a little bit, because he was a good friend to me for a while. But mostly, I’m relieved. He’s certifiable, and I’m going to be terrified he’ll come for me again if he lives. Does that make me a bad person?”
“Hell no. I’d say you’re too good. He doesn’t deserve a drop of your sympathy. I hope the fucker chokes on his own spit.”
Wow. Okay. Reece reaches down and pats my shoulder. “Ignore him. He’s got anger issues.”
Liam snorts and Reece chuckles behind me. A deep, melodic sound.
We reach a set of double doors, and Liam turns to Reece. “I’ll take her in, will you go grab me a coffee? We might have a long wait.”
“Sure. You want a coffee, Cara?” I shake my head and Reece flashes me a big smile before ambling off down the corridor.
Once he’s turned the corner to the stairwell, Liam hunkers down to my level. “I need to know, Cara. You serious about my boy in there? Because he is about you. He laid his life on the line for you today.”
Tears spring to my eyes because I already know how far Luka would have gone to keep me safe. I nod and sniff. “I love him. I’m not sure how he’ll take the news. I think he’s got commitment issues that spring from self-esteem issues. But I love him, and I’ll fight for us, even if he wobbles.”
“Good.” Liam smiles and it transforms his face, softening it, making him a lot less scary. I bet if he grew his hair out some, and smiled more, he’d be a striking man. “I’m glad to hear you say that because he deserves some happiness, and he’s got a career in front of him now, add you into the mix and he’s all set. He’s a good man, the problem is he doesn’t see it himself always. You take care of him for me. Okay?”
I nod again and wipe a stray tear away. And then Liam is wheeling me through the doors, and there he is.
Luka is sat on the bed, and I feel faint when I see the huge, ugly gash across his forearm. But he’s laughing and chatting with the doctor. I feel a sliver of jealousy when the attractive young doctor says something to him I can’t hear and he rewards her with a grin. But then he looks over our way, and his eyes meet mine, and I see all he feels for me there.
He lifts his good arm, and crooks his finger at me. Liam wheels me over, and slaps Luka gently on the back.
“Brought you a visitor. Thought you might want to see her.”
“Thanks, brother. For everything.” Luka’s words are serious and low.
I don’t know what else Liam has done, and I decide I don’t want to know. Today the people in my life came together and saved me from a person who meant me harm. I don’t care how they did that, and I don’t want to know the ins and outs. If I ever need to answer questions, I don’t want to have to lie. If Luka or Maggie ever decide to tell me the full truth of what went on in that kitchen, then I’ll listen and take it to my grave. But I won’t ask. For the first time in years, since being a child truth-be-told, I give my trust completely over to other people.
Luka takes my hand in his uninjured one and rubs his thumb over the back of my knuckles. I want to kiss him so bad. To breathe in his familiar scent and bury my face in his neck, but I can’t. He lifts my hand to his face and kisses my palm. It’s such an intimate gesture, I feel my face flame.
“You doing okay?” he asks.
Once more my heart swells with love as I smile at him. “You’re the one bleeding here.”
He shrugs and smirks. “It’s but a flesh wound.”
“Did you just quote Monty Python?” I side ey
e him and he shrugs.
“Maybe.”
“I love that movie.”
“Me, too,” he says.
“Date night? When you get yourself stitched up?”
“Definitely.”
I stand up, rules be damned, and wrap my arms around his neck. I kiss him lightly on the lips, not caring that the doctors and nurses are all watching. Then I whisper in his ear.
“Thank you. I love you.”
I step back and sit in my chair. He smiles at me and my stomach does the weird little flip-flop that only he can seem to induce.
“We’re ready to begin.” The doctor approaches Luka, and she’s got a tray with medical utensils on it in her hands.
“I’ll see you later,” I tell him.
He nods and then turns to look as the doctor takes a massive needle and starts to push clear liquid into the wound.
I feel sick at the sight and turn to Liam. “Do you mind if we go? Not sure I can watch this.”
“Of course.”
It’s been two weeks since Tristan took me, and things are good between Luka and I.
I’m slowly recovering.
I’m taking some time from work to decide what I want to do with my life. I’m not sure I still want to teach, and the more I think about it the more I fancy a total change. Luka stays over most nights, but he sleeps in the spare room. It’s strange, but he says it’s what he wants to do until he’s finished his therapy. He always holds me until I go to sleep, and then at some point he sneaks off into the other room. Tonight though, I’m lying here in the dark wide awake, because he’s fallen asleep holding me—and he’s started to dream.
Part of me is nervous. Not scared, but nervous. So far, his dream seems benign enough, he’s twitched and mumbled a few times, but nothing more. Still, I gently disentangle myself from him and move to the edge of the bed. I know what to do if he starts to have a nightmare. Get out of bed and head for the door, but give his toe a hard pinch before I do. Ethan taught me that trick. Says it’s how they used to wake one another up out in the field.