by K. Ryan
"Oh, no problem," he just waved a hand. "Didn't have anything else going on tonight, that's for sure."
"Well, I'm sure Caleb wants you to hang around until he gets back, but you're welcome to stay for dinner," I grinned back at him as we stepped up to the porch. "So, I heard Caleb talked to you a little bit about moving the shop to New York?"
"Yep."
"And you think it's a good idea?"
"Well," Saul shrugged a little too easily. "It's not the worst idea he's ever had. Besides, family comes first, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," I smiled and bumped his shoulder. "That includes you, too. You're coming with us, right?"
He shot me a wide grin and I already had my answer. "Well, I figured I would. What else would I do? It's not like I wouldn't follow that kid into hell and back if he asked me to...which is pretty sad now that I think about it. But hey, I didn't want to impose. A guy likes to be asked now and then, you know?"
"You're not imposing on anything," I laughed. "I fully expect you to live right down the street from us if not next-door..."
I trailed off when I felt my phone buzzing in my purse. When I slipped it out and glanced at the caller ID, my lips dipped into a frown as I swiped across the screen to answer.
"Skyler?"
"Isabelle!" her frantic voice rang out in my ears and everything else faded around me. "Thank God! I've been trying to call Caleb and he isn't answering, but you're okay. Thank God, you're okay."
"He's working at the shop," I told her, my frown only deepening as I put my key in the lock. "What's going on?"
"The Warlords attacked the clubhouse tonight. Drove right up and let bullets fly through the whole place. Marcus got hit in the shoulder and Tiny's in an ambulance right now. I just...I don't know what's gonna happen now. Where are you?"
"I'm at my dad's with Saul," I whispered and glanced at him, who'd been hanging onto every word with grave intensity.
"Good. Just stay there until you get a hold of Caleb. And please, please, tell him he needs to call me or Dom or someone, okay?"
The desperation and the fear in her voice sent ice through my veins and I shivered a little from the impact.
"Okay, Sky," I whispered again. "I will. I promise."
"Okay, sweetie. Just be safe. I'll see you soon."
I swiped across my screen to end the call as we pushed through the front door and immediately called Caleb. There were a lot of reasons why he might've chosen to ignore his mom's calls, but I prayed he wasn't too caught up in work to notice who was calling him now.
Thankfully, he picked up on the third ring and I blew out a quick sigh of relief.
"Hey, Iz. What's up?"
"Caleb—"
I skidded to a stop with Saul and Cooper right behind me as I rounded the corner and got a good look inside the kitchen. There, sitting calmly at the table with a gun in his hand, was Theo Wallace.
"Iz? Is everything—"
"He's here. He has a gun," I fired off as fast as I could because now, Wallace sprang up from the table, pointed the gun directly at my head, and held his hand out for the phone.
"Iz?" Caleb called to me through the phone, but I couldn't answer.
"One move," Wallace murmured evenly, his eyes shifting to Saul as he spoke. "And I'll shoot her, got it?"
Saul's hands immediately flew up in the air and he nodded tightly. Now, Wallace's gaze settled on me and he motioned for the phone again. My breath was already coming in haggard gasps as I slid the phone into his hand, immediately jerking back to put some more space between me and the gun, as if that would matter, as if that would somehow save me.
Wallace brought the phone up to his ear. "Hey, Sawyer. Look, I'm sorry it has to be this way, but all you and your club had to do was cooperate. You didn't do that and now I don't have a choice."
He listened impassively and nodded into the phone a few times at whatever Caleb was telling him, probably more like pleading with him, and Wallace just shrugged.
"It's too late for that. Now this is happening."
With that, he swerved the gun right at Saul's thigh and fired one near-soundless shot.
I didn't even realize I was screaming until the sound of my own voice vibrated and crashed in my ears. Blood splattered the tile floor with wet, scarlet splashes. My hand clutched my stomach as the other moved to cover my mouth and I was vaguely aware that Cooper was barking. All I could do was stumble backward into the hallway because now that gun was leveled right on me again.
The attachment on the gun stared me right in the face. Nobody would hear if he shot me right now. Caleb was probably already speeding through the streets to get to me, but Wallace had plenty of time to do what he'd come here to do.
Wallace didn't miss a beat and despite the yelling I heard coming from my phone, he tossed it onto the table and stalked toward us.
"I'm sorry," he told Saul pointedly. "You weren't the one I was expecting to be with her."
Saul groaned on the floor, gripping his wounded thigh, and despite everything, he somehow managed to crouch onto all fours in a fruitless effort at getting in between me and my would-be assailant.
"Come on," Saul pushed out through gritted teeth. "You don't have to do this. You just turn around right now and get out of here. That's all you have to do."
Wallace studied Saul for a moment and then glanced at Cooper, who'd moved to stand protectively in front of me with all the hairs on his back standing on end. A low growl rumbled from my dog when Wallace dared a step closer.
"It's too late for that," he told Saul quietly, his voice still calm and chillingly even. "I'm sorry."
He raised his arm once more and fired again, this time right into Saul's other leg. More crimson blood splattered across the tile as Saul howled in agony and curled up into a tight ball on the floor. Every instinct in me screamed to go to him, to help him somehow, to protect him somehow, but now, Wallace had turned the gun to me and strode toward me with a menace I couldn't begin to comprehend.
"Caleb is on his way," I whispered, my voice shaking.
He blew out a deep breath and nodded. "It doesn't matter. I'm really sorry about this, you know. I'd always hoped it wouldn't have to come to this. He told me he would take your place, but it's just too late for that."
Something in his voice opened a door and new hope flared in me. My mind raced through all the survival tactics I'd ever been taught. He hadn't moved to physically hurt me yet, so there was still a chance I could get away or, at the very least, disarm him somehow. The way he kept apologizing, the way he seemed to be hesitating...if he really wanted to shoot me, wouldn't he have done it already? He might be a man with nothing to lose, but he also didn't look like a man who really wanted to hurt me.
What did I have on me that I could use? I had my keys, pepper spray, and my pocket knife, but that wouldn't really do me much good against a gun. Then, I remembered something my self-defense trainer had told our class. It seemed so insignificant then, but now there was nothing more important to my survival: above all costs, do whatever you have to do, say whatever you have to say, but force him to understand that hurting you hurts him too.
When Wallace ventured another step in my direction and Cooper crouched in front of me, ready to pounce with a low snarl, the words tumbled out before I could really think them through:
"Please don't hurt me," I whispered as I dipped my hands into my purse, groping for the first thing I could find. "I'm pregnant."
The lie rolled off my lips easily and it was worth it because Wallace skidded right in his tracks, his eyes widening as all the blood drained from his face.
"I just found out," I kept going, playing on what I hoped was a weakness. "I know you don't really want to hurt me and you have to see that you just can't. Please...please don't hurt me."
He squeezed his eyes shut and that was enough time for me to pull my keys out and fist them in my knuckles. Wallace blew out a breath, the internal battle raging within him, and when he opened his eyes again, his
decision froze me in place. He was going to do it anyway.
My instructor's voice rang in my head: hurt or be hurt.
Three things happened all at once. Wallace took another step forward with the gun still in his hand and I slashed him right across the face with my keys as Cooper pounced, clamping his jaws down on Wallace's arm. He roared as he struggled with my dog, who never gave an inch, growling and snarling as he attacked. The gun clattered to the floor and I stumbled to reach for Saul, but he shook his head furiously.
"Run," he whispered.
I scrambled back to my feet just in time to see Wallace hurl my dog to the floor, sending him sliding into the wall in a crumbled heap. There was no time to react, no time to run because even though he didn't have a gun anymore, he advanced on me all the same. The murderous rage in his eyes seeped through the room, drenching me with fear and then I felt his hands crash around my waist.
Survival was the only thought running through my mind and I stomped on his right foot as hard as I could. He grunted, giving me an opening to stomp on his left foot with just as much force as before. His hold loosened for just a split second, but that was enough time for me to jerk my elbow out of his grip and rear it behind me, catching him in the cheek.
I spun away from his reach and kicked, aiming for anything and everything I could connect with. My foot slammed into his knee and he jerked from the impact, stumbling backward and giving me the opening I desperately needed. I ran for the hallway as fast as my feet could carry me, slipping only once on the blood pooling on the floor, and I almost made it too. I was almost there...so close to the front door I could almost touch it. Almost.
Hard muscle slammed into me from behind, tackling me to the floor and pinning me there, powerless and helpless to stop this from happening. I had no way out and no one that could really help me because Wallace's body had me nailed down and his hands clamped around my throat.
My hands scratched and clawed at his grip, trying and failing to maneuver out from under him, but as light-headedness began to overpower me, there was no use in fighting it. From the corner of my eye, I could see Cooper limping toward us and Saul army-crawling for the gun inch by inch, but they would both be too late.
Wallace's face, red with violent fury and streaked with blood, blurred and white spots danced across my eyes as I gasped and wrenched for air.
This was it. This was how I was going to die.
Wave after wave of images flashed through my head as my awareness dwindled and slipped away into a fog. Flickers of blue swept over my vision and my mom's beautiful, smiling face appeared. She was laughing and reaching for me and then my dad wrapped his arms around her, smiling into her hair, happy and healthy again. And then I saw Caleb. Desperately handsome and shooting me that crooked grin, pulling me in closer, sliding a ring on my finger, hovering above me, loving me.
My parents and Ava were waiting, but I wasn't ready yet.
God, Caleb. This was going to destroy him...
And then the pressure around my throat disappeared.
Air filled my lungs and I gasped, sputtering and heaving. My hands flew to my throat as I rolled onto my side, coughing and disoriented, and my eyes watered with tears. Caleb was here. He had to be. But when the haziness lifted, it wasn't Caleb I saw.
It was Theo Wallace.
Staggering backward with his chest heaving, his eyes flying alternately between his hands and my stomach as he mumbled something I couldn't hear. Horror filled his pale face and he shook his head at me, as if he couldn't believe he was standing here in this kitchen, scattered with blood and bodies at his feet.
He stumbled over Saul, finally seeming to grasp his surroundings and his current predicament, and he fumbled for his gun, still just out of Saul's reach, and tucked it behind his back. Then, he shot me one last look with torture in his dark eyes, murmuring, "I'm sorry."
A moment later, he disappeared through the back door of the kitchen and was gone.
Even though the cloudiness still hovered around me, I was still able to grasp the finality here: he may have won the physical battle, but I won the mental war.
Somehow, I managed to pull myself to my feet, sputtering through the pain in my throat and my head, and shuffled over to where Saul laid on the floor with wobbly legs to grab my phone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Death Rattle
Caleb
When the house finally came into view, my adrenaline spiked, raging furiously and coiling as my fears took on a more tangible shape. Dread and lethal fury raged through me for control, but neither one was an option for me right now. I had no idea what I was going to find in the house, but it didn't matter. If Isabelle was in there, I was going in there too.
I leapt out of my truck, sprinting up the walkway as I untucked my Glock from behind my jeans, and gently nudged the door open. If Wallace was still in there with them, startling him would only make things worse. I'd purposely taken my truck so he wouldn't hear me as easily when I pulled in the driveway, so bursting in here now would destroy any leverage I'd just gained.
Tilting my head to get a better angle, I peered down the hallway and found nothing. It was just too damn quiet. Cold panic spiked in my chest, tightening and choking me, but I had to push through it.
And then I heard it.
It was faint and barely above a whisper, but I still heard it: "It's okay, Saul. They're on their way. Just hang on, okay? I know it hurts."
My steps quickened into a frantic stumble toward the kitchen and I skidded into the tile at the sight of Isabelle hovering over Saul as she pressed two bloodied towels into both of his thighs. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing. That dark, terrified part of me had fully expected to find two dead bodies and blood covering the kitchen. The fact that my worst fear hadn't come true, that she was living and breathing and still in one fucking piece...my knees buckled and I fell to the floor next to Isabelle, exhausted with relief.
Her face was streaked with tears, but she was still here. Thank God she was still here. I jerked her into my arms, clinging to her out of sheer desperation. And here I'd thought all my feelings of powerlessness and helplessness were behind me. All I'd been able to do was listen and scream into the phone, knowing full well I might not get there in time. Now the best I could do was hold her with everything I had.
"Iz," I murmured in her hair. "Just tell me you're okay."
"I'm okay," she nodded into my chest with a cracked voice and gripped the front of my shirt to pull me in even closer. "He left, Caleb. He just walked away."
I didn't understand what that meant and right now, I just didn't care. We could sort through the details later. My fingers found her chin and I brushed away her tears with my thumb. I needed to really see her, so I could really see for myself that everything was still intact and that my mistakes hadn't once again risen from the ashes to torment us.
And then I got a good look at the purple splotches smattered across her throat. My blood ran cold and for the life of me, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the bruising I found there. The pieces of what happened here began to click together and I clenched my hands around her face, willing myself to stay in control.
All I could see was red. Violent, murderous red. My lips curled into a snarl and my nostrils flared with rage. That motherfucker put his hands on her—almost fucking killed her. I couldn't even see straight. Slashes of black and red dotted my vision and I had to squeeze my eyes shut just to find a little bit of control. My right hand squeezed the gun in my palm, itching to pull the trigger, itching to chase after that sorry bastard, but then Isabelle's hands pressed against my chest to get my attention.
"Caleb," she whispered with wide eyes darting to me and the gun. "I called 911. You can't have that. If they find you with a gun, they can arrest you, can't they?"
Of course. A bitter laugh shook from my throat and I shook my head. Ex-cons weren't supposed to have firearms, regardless of how long they'd been out and what they'd been in for. And of course,
Isabelle was thinking of me without giving any thought to herself and her own well-being. From what I could tell, she needed that ambulance almost as much as Saul did.
Oh shit, Saul.
My gaze jerked down to find him already watching me. Underneath the absolute agony was clear understanding as if he could read every single one of my thoughts. He nodded from the floor and waved to me with a bloody hand.
"Hey," he grunted. "What took you so long?"
I huffed out a laugh and reached down to grip his shoulder. "You okay? You look like you just got shot."
Saul jerked his middle finger up at me, wincing a little from the effort, and I just squeezed his shoulder.
"Thank you," my eyes drifted down to the two soiled towels covering his wounds and I swallowed tightly. "Whatever you did tonight, thank you."
"I didn't do shit," he hissed through clenched teeth, jerking his head toward Isabelle. "Your wife handled it."
My eyes flew to Isabelle, but she just shook her head and shocked the hell out of me when she gestured for the gun in my hand.
"You can't have that," she whispered again. "They'll be here any minute. Please, Caleb. Just give it to me."
I stared back at her for a moment before snapping out of it and flipped the safety on so I could hand it over. She slipped it from my hand and stood up on shaky legs, stumbling a little when she finally got her bearings.
"Take it easy, Iz," I told her, leaping up to support some of her weight.
"Just stay with Saul. They said to keep pressure on his legs," she threw over her shoulder as she shuffled down the hallway.
I swallowed hard watching her disappear up the stairs. Now, more than ever, I just wanted to be close to her. I just needed to touch her to remind myself she'd really survived this. Somehow, some way, she'd managed to survive. It was nothing short of a goddamn miracle. Saul's labored breathing yanked me out of my thoughts and I finally turned my attention back to him, taking Isabelle's place and putting as much pressure on those towels as he could handle.