Serenade (The Nightmusic Trilogy Book 1)

by Heather McKenzie

  Everyone in the room gasped in unison. Stephan rose and bolted for the door. Even Sindra balked and turned away. How could a father be so complacent about his child getting hurt?

  “Anyway,” Henry said nonchalantly, “we have to get her back before John Marchessa finds out she is missing. If he gets to her first, she most certainly will be dead.” He peered over the shoulder of an assistant who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. “Frank, do we have her location yet?”

  It took a second for Frank to find his voice. “Yes. The signal came back just now, sir. I’m not sure why we keep losing it. They don’t appear to be moving.”

  Henry picked up the locater off the assistant’s desk and stared at it, absentmindedly running his fingers over the edges of the tiny screen. I wondered if maybe his cool demeanor was just a way of hiding his true feelings—maybe he was just as terrified as I was.

  “Sindra, organize the ransom money, and do whatever you have to do to make sure it’s kept absolutely quiet,” Henry ordered. “I want whoever picks it up followed and “questioned”, if you know what I mean. And make sure you clean up after yourself. Don’t leave any loose ends.”

  Sindra nodded and left the room. Henry then turned to me, and when his eyes met mine, I saw the truth in them: he was shaken to his very core. He was just one hell of an actor.

  “Oliver,” he said firmly holding my gaze, “you are going to take this…” he put the locater in my hands, “and find her. Carl will organize a chopper, and you will take three men with you. Once the money has been exchanged, you will depart.”

  I fought the urge to take the locater and run out of the room, but only patience and careful planning would bring Kaya back safely.

  “Can you do this? Are you well enough?” Henry asked with a glance at my ribs.

  “Yeah, of course.” I patted the little bottle of pills in my pocket.

  “Don’t fail me,” he said, and his green eyes, the same color as Kaya’s, held my gaze firmly. “Don’t fail your fiancée,” he added quietly.

  I had no reply. I waited for a lecture, an angry rant, or maybe even a gun to my head for proposing to his daughter, especially without his permission, but instead, he gave me a lopsided grin. “Yes… I knew you were the right one when I picked you out so many years ago,” he whispered inches from my face, “you were a good investment.”

  A good investment?

  “You find her. And Oliver… none of those kidnappers live, understand? Whatever you have to do, you make sure you eliminate every single one of them. But let ‘em feel it first.”

  He put out his hand, and I shook it firmly. “That was always the plan, sir.”

  I yelled for Seth and Regan—where were they? I hollered again, but then I stopped when I realized I was putting Luke in danger by basically announcing our location.

  I grabbed a blanket out of the tent and threw it on the ground, then eased Luke down onto it, his back leaning against a tree. He insisted he was fine, but the color of his face indicated otherwise. I found Regan’s medical kit but was barely able to get my fingers to cooperate with the latches. My hands were so cold and sticky with blood that once I got the case open, I spilled most of its contents out onto the blanket. There were scissors, cotton pads, ointments—things I recognized—and then odd things I didn’t. I knew a yellow substance in one of the tubes had made its way into my veins a few times.

  “You’ll be all right,” I said, trying to comfort Luke, who was patient while I searched for antiseptic.

  “Do you know what you’re doing with that stuff?” he asked.

  “Sure. Well… no, not really—but I’ll figure it out,” I said with as calmly as I could manage.

  The crumpled plaid shirt he’d been holding over his chest had become unrecognizable—his blood had blended all the colors together into one—and the shirt he was still wearing was shredded and hanging in strips from his shoulder. That’s when I noticed another wound.

  “That T-shirt needs to come off,” I told him.

  He laughed, “Yes of course, ma’am.”

  “Ugh, don’t call me ma’am,” I said nervously.

  He kept pressure on the gouges across his chest while I eased the sticky fabric gently off his wounded arm. On his upper bicep, there was another deep gash. I gulped at the sight, not just because of the wound, but because his glorious, bare skin had been marked by the cat—I would kill that thing a hundred times over if I could.

  Stay focused…

  Wrapping his arm tightly with more gauze than necessary, I took in a deep breath and steadied myself so I could look at his chest. “Okay, let’s see what we’re dealing with here…” I carefully pulled the soaked shirt away from his skin, vividly aware of his hot breath on my forehead as I poured water over the wounds. Four, deep cuts ran across his left pectoral, and one almost reached his ribs. They were all bleeding, but the one that had grazed his ribs bled more than the others.

  “How bad is it, Doc?” he asked.

  “Oh, you’ll live,” I said, still trying not to freak out.

  “That’s good, because I have a lot of things to make up to you. I’ve gotta get you home.”

  “Don’t’ worry about me or any of that right now, okay? Just relax.”

  He was starting to look extremely pale, and the fresh pads of gauze were already soaked through. I told him to take a deep breath, and then I quickly pulled away the gauze and poured what I hoped was antiseptic over the wounds. He gasped in pain. “I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling sick as I pressed back down on his chest.

  “Kaya, you’re gonna have to sew that one up for me,” he said, referring to the deepest cut that had revealed a layer of fat, or maybe muscle, under the skin. It was bad—really, really bad.

  “But I don’t know how to—”

  “I know. But it’s bleeding a bit too much. I kinda need you to do this for me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Wouldn’t mind? I would throw myself in front of freight train loaded with acid-spitting snakes for you… “Yeah, of course I will,” I said casually.

  His eyes were getting heavy and his skin paler by the minute; I had to act quickly. I found a needle and eased some black thread through the eye of it. I knew Regan had something for freezing, but I had no idea what it was or how to use it. “I’m sorry, this is really going to hurt,” I warned.

  He forced a perfect smile. “Just do it, Kaya. It’s okay. I trust you.”

  I pulled the bandage back from the wound a little bit at a time, pouring water over it as I went to wash away the blood. The needle poked through his skin easily. I carefully stuck it through one side of the cut, pulled the wound together, and then tied a knot. It was all I could do to not faint, or cry, or completely lose my mind. I felt like I was torturing him even though he barely made a sound. I detached myself from reality and pretended I was sewing doll clothes—very fragile, lace doll clothes. I managed to get five bits of thread to hold the deepest part of the wound together, but there was still a long way to go.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Shivering, he looked down and to the side. “Fabulous, couldn’t be better,” he said bravely.

  “Just a few more…”

  I pushed the needle through his skin in a daze, and then I added stitches to another gash that needed them. I’d lost count of how many times I’d jabbed him, and when I was done, I realized I’d been pretty much holding my breath the whole time. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Uh huh,” he said sleepily, “a lot of concern from a girl who was running away from me not too long ago.”

  “Yeah, about that… I won’t run again. I promise—for real this time.” He raised an eyebrow, as if searching my face for a reason why. “But I will take you up on that offer to get me home.”

  He nodded, and then his eyes closed.

  I squeezed a whole tube of some clear jelly over the crude stitches, allowing my fingers to linger on his skin as long as possible. Then I covered up my handiwork with gauze and
medical tape. When there was nothing else I could do, I watched him rest. I let my eyes wander from his perfect face to his collarbone where a little gold maple leaf hung on a chain, and to his chest, then over to his ribs where a large tattoo in black cursive letters said Louisa May.

  “Hey, Kaya?” he said, catching me staring at him.

  “Oh, yeah, um… I was just going to—find you a shirt,” I lied and started to rise to my feet. He grabbed my hands, keeping me next to him. “Thank you,” he said.

  I looked hard at his face, and then before I could think, the words just burst out of my mouth. “Do you love her?” I asked, letting my eyes wander to his ribs and the tattoo.

  “Yes. More than anything,” he said with such certainty and conviction that it instantly caused a crushing pain in my chest. His love for Louisa was so deep it was permanently etched into his skin, and all I could think was how I wished it were my name he wore so close to his heart.

  He squeezed my hands and spoke in a soft voice. “And let me ask you this: do you love him?”

  His fingers nudged my engagement ring, slippery with his blood. Chills went up my spine. I couldn’t look him in the eye—I had to keep it together and turn my emotions off. “I have to get you some warm clothes,” I said, pulling away, feeling dizzy.

  Keep it together…

  I was about to go in search of a blanket to warm him up but stopped mid step when the light shifted behind the tent again. Another mountain lion? I crouched in front of Luke and put both hands on the gun, aiming for the trees. He was saying something to me, but I was too focused to listen.

  The tent wobbled when something brushed its side, and then from behind it appeared a slow-moving mass of black fur.

  The beast. He sniffed the air, and the hair on his back stood straight up, then Seth emerged from the trees with Regan close behind. After a quick glance at Luke on the ground and me covered in blood while aiming a gun at them, their shotguns were pointed at my head.

  “It’s okay. She saved my life,” Luke said, pointing toward the dead cat.

  Seth’s jaw dropped at the sight of the mangy, yellow beast’s corpse sprawled in the snow. “Sweet Jesus!” How the hell…?”

  “Two bullets—thankfully the last one was dead on,” said Luke weakly. “She’s a good shot.”

  Seth eyed me curiously while Regan dropped his gun and bolted to Luke’s side in full panic mode. I felt such an intense relief that they had returned and were able to help that I ran to the bushes to throw up.

  “I’ve got something for that,” Regan yelled.

  I gave him the finger.

  While I waited for my stomach to quiet down, I watched Seth wander off into the trees, dragging the dead cat by its tail. His eyes caught mine, and he gave me a wink. I didn’t know what it meant or what was going on in his crazy head. I was just glad he was taking the gross carcass away.

  When I returned to Luke, he was covered and flat on his back, his eyes closed, with Regan kneeling next to him. I recognized my backpack underneath his head and felt oddly comforted by its familiarity. Regan was putting his spilled medical kit back together and giving me glances that were impossible to decipher.

  “Still nauseated?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” He inspected the contents of the kit. “Just wondering, did you use antiseptic?” he asked sarcastically, holding up the almost-empty bottle.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “Whatever. You did a good job.”

  “Thanks.”

  I got down on my knees across from him, Luke laying quietly between us and thankfully not quite so pale.

  “It’s kind of remarkable, really,” Regan said.

  “What is?”

  “That you patched the boy up.”

  “Uh, why?”

  He laughed. “Because you’re, well… you. A spoiled girl who knows nothing of medicine. It’s amazing that you didn’t faint or run off crying.”

  “Did I have a choice?” I said, glancing down at the beautiful man before me.

  Regan stopped what he was doing. “Uh… well, yes,” he said quietly, “yes, you actually did have a choice. You could have left him to die.”

  Luke’s eyes popped open like a lightning bolt had hit him. His fingers wrapped around mine, and I heard him take in a deep breath. Yup… Regan had pretty much said it all. I tried to pull away, but I couldn’t. My hand was cemented to the ground, held tightly by the man I’d fallen in love with.

  Regan pulled out a needle and filed it up from a little vial of yellow stuff. “Hey Luke, I’m going to give you some painkillers and antibiotics, okay?”

  My fingers tightened around Luke’s and a wildly protective urge came over me. I didn’t trust Regan, or what was in the vial. “Don’t touch him,” I growled as I felt for the gun in my pocket with my other hand.

  Regan eyed me warily. I knew I had a crazed look on my face, because I felt crazed. I’d do anything to protect the man lying between us. I wondered if this was the way Oliver felt all those years while being my guard. It was all consuming. It was a rage I’d never known.

  Regan cleared his throat. “I would never hurt Luke. Never in a million years,” he said most sincerely. “Of that, you can be assured.”

  I’d been expecting a fight from the strange redhead, and his show of affection for Luke caught me off guard. I realized something as I stared hard at him and at his hand resting gently on Luke’s arm. Regan had a thing for Luke. Still though, I had to turn away when he filled Luke’s veins with something scary looking.

  “We’ll give him an hour to recover, but then we have to get moving,” Regan said when Luke’s eyes grew heavy.

  “An hour? But he needs to rest.”

  “We can’t stay here. We’re sitting ducks, and there are probably more of those cats around. When Seth gets back, we’ll be off.”

  “Where did Seth go?” I asked.

  “To check on our traps and make sure your daddy’s pals don’t find us, if there are any of them left.”

  My pulse sped up. “What do you mean, any of them left?”

  “Nothing, other than we just took care of them,” Regan said harshly.

  My heart felt as if it had dropped into my stomach. I knew in my heart Oliver was looking for me… I had to put my free hand to the ground to steady myself. “Tell me Regan, what happened? What did you do? Did you… kill someone?” I asked frantically and on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. “Who did you take care of? What did he look like?”

  “Tall,” Regan laughed.

  I felt tears burst forth, and I had absolutely zero control of them. I pictured Oliver, dead, and I couldn’t hold back. Rivers poured from my eyes as the world came crashing down around me. Regan seemed startled by this. He shook his head, and all the callousness of his tone left his voice. “Kaya, honestly, we didn’t kill anyone. Don’t cry, for goodness’ sake, everything is fine. We’re not bloody savages.”

  As tears kept rolling, Regan’s tough-guy image crumbled, and he then spoke to me like a brother might to a scared little sister. “Really, it’s all right. We just set up a few traps to slow them down and covered our tracks. They’ll be going in circles for a while, that’s all. Chillax. Everything’s fine.”

  “So, nobody’s hurt then?” I asked through sniffles, feeling embarrassed over my meltdown.

  “Well, maybe a few bunnies,” he said sweetly.

  Regan was definitely not a killer. That was now blatantly obvious. As I watched him fuss over Luke and move about cleaning up camp, I wondered if maybe I should be more worried about them… about Oliver… who, at any given moment, could come out of the trees, hell bent on retrieving me, and completely unable to listen to logic. Then what would I do? What if he was ordered to release his fury on my captors? His anger would make him completely unreasonable. Pulling the trigger on the cat was easy, but Oliver? That was just too horrible to imagine.

  With every shifting of the breeze, my heart sped up. Every
shadow made me jump. The small fire crackled and smoked, playing with my vision.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” Luke said quietly. He had woken up and thankfully didn’t seem to be in so much pain. “Your fiancé… you think he’s out there somewhere?”

  “Yes. Henry would have sent him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he will stop at nothing to get me back.”

  “But the sky has been quiet for a while,” Luke said softly.

  I looked up. There hadn’t been the sound of helicopters this morning, even though the sky was vibrant blue above the treetops.

  “Do you really love this guy?” Luke asked softly, and I heard him hold his breath.

  I forced my head to nod. “Yes.”

  He closed his eyes tightly, as if my answer pained him horribly, and then he raised himself up on his elbows. “Hey, Regan?” he said. “Promise me you won’t go firing at Henry’s men.”

  Regan was taking down the tents and dropped the muddy stakes in dismay. “What? Have you lost your mind? You know damn well they’ll blast us to bits the first chance they get. I mean, what if they were to come out of the trees right now and—”

  “I don’t care what they do. You can scare them or slow them down, but that’s where it ends.” Regan was about to protest, but Luke’s voice boomed through the quiet forest, making us both jump. “Promise me!” he yelled.

  Regan gritted his teeth. “Fine! Okay fine! You’ve lost your mind completely, but what-the-hell-ever!”

  Luke was trying to protect my fiancé. His bad-guy image was crumbling rapidly before my eyes. He looked hard into my eyes before lying back down. “I’ll make you the same promise, too: you have my word that I won’t hurt him,” he said.

  I adjusted the blanket around him and stayed by his side, on the edge of my nerves, while he slept. I kept an eye on the bushes and the gun ready in my hands.

  I practically inhaled my second portion of oatmeal, thinking it was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. Then, out of nowhere, a massive wave of nausea hit. I doubled over out of reflex, but this time, there was a lower-abdominal pain accompanying the sick feeling.