Anytime Darlin'
Page 25
Devlin clasped her thighs together, bucking, attempting to throw him off.
“Oh yeah, I forgot, you like it rough.” His laugh was coarse. He grabbed her tee shirt and jerked her to her feet. He spun her around to face him. “Aw,” he said, “why’d you have to go and cut your hair? It made it so much easier to drag you around.” Franz threw his head back, laughing at his own joke.
Devlin wasted no time. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her as she jerked her knee up, hard, into his groin.
“Christ!” he yelped, and he loosened his hold. She dived for the open door.
Franz threw himself after her. He managed to catch her ankle, and she fell against one of her worktables, banging the side of her head, sending the contents of the table flying across the room. He dragged her toward him and spun her around. Devlin clawed at his face.
“Fucking bitch!” Franz backhanded her, his ring catching her in the mouth, splitting her lip. The force of the blow flipped her onto her side away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her stainless steel fabric shears lying on the ground. She knew exactly how sharp they were. She’d cut herself many times. She clutched them in her right hand, hiding them beneath her. Franz grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. He showed her the gun, waving it back and forth in her face.
“Let’s go.” He pointed the gun toward the door. “You want to go back in the house? Let’s go back in the house. A bed sounds pretty good to me. Does it sound good to you, you little tramp?”
Devlin jerked her arm from his grasp and ran for all she was worth, Franz right behind her.
“Jake!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, “help me!” before she was tackled and knocked to the grass.
Franz hauled her to her feet again, but this time he wrapped an arm tightly around her throat. “Who you calling for? Farmer Brown? He never comes by ’til five. Yell all you want. Nobody can hear you.” Franz began to drag her toward the house.
* * * *
Jake was just finishing up in the bathroom when he heard the phone ring. He borrowed a toothbrush and began to brush his teeth, expecting Devlin to answer it. Even after he had rinsed his mouth, it was still ringing. He wondered where she was. She obviously wasn’t in the bathroom. There was only one.
Jake wandered down to the kitchen, following the persistent ring. Devlin wasn’t there, but the kitchen door was open. She must have stepped outside for a minute. Jake decided he’d better answer the phone.
“Jake! Thank God!” yelled Mike. Before Jake could utter a word, Mike continued yelling, “Get out of there! Get Devlin out of there! Franz is in Grinnell!”
“Jesus Christ!” yelled Jake. Just then, he heard Devlin scream out his name and the words, “Help me!”
Jake dropped the phone and started toward the door. Then he remembered the shotgun in the bedroom, and he sprinted down the hall. Devlin said she kept it loaded. He reached behind the headboard. Wrapping a hand around the barrel, he raced back toward the kitchen. Through the window, Jake could see Devlin struggling with Franz in the yard. He had an arm wrapped around her throat. He held a gun in his hand.
Jake heard him say, “Yell all you want. Nobody can hear you,” just before Jake burst through the door with the shotgun braced securely against his shoulder. He pointed the barrel unerringly at William Franz’s face. “I hear her,” Jake growled.
* * * *
Franz grabbed Devlin’s chin and pulled her face in front of his, pressing the gun against her right temple.
“Drop the rifle, cowboy,” Franz ordered, “or I’ll blow her fucking brains out.”
Jake stepped closer and stood firm. He kept the shotgun pointed at Franz. If Mike had called here, then the cops were already on their way. His ears strained for the sound of sirens.
“Okay. Fine,” said Franz. He pressed close behind Devlin. “Shoot. Go ahead. Be my guest. Kill your little girlfriend. Save me the trouble.”
Jake’s eyes were fixed on Devlin. She looked calm. The paramedic part of his brain made a quick assessment of her injuries. She had a split lip. That was nothing. The gash on her temple concerned him a little. Blood dripped steadily down the side of her face, staining her shirt red. Scalp lacerations bled like a son of a bitch. If he could get her away from Franz, that could be stitched up quickly enough. Her arms and legs were already bruising, but she didn’t look like she had any broken bones. If he could get her away from Franz, she’d live. That’s what mattered. It was a big if. In order to stop him with a shotgun, Jake needed to be closer, and he needed Devlin out of the way. With his peripheral vision, Jake saw Devlin move her right hand ever so slightly. She held something that glinted in the sun. Jake took a better look without appearing to do so. She moved her hand again. He saw a pair of long, wicked-looking stainless steel scissors.
“Drop the rifle, cowboy,” Franz repeated, “or I’ll kill her.” Jake turned sideways to make himself a smaller target as he set the shotgun on the ground at his own feet.
“Funny,” said Franz. “Real funny guy. Kick it over here. Now.” He moved the gun from the side of Devlin’s head and waved it in Jake’s direction.
Jake knelt down and pushed the gun toward Franz.
“Now stand up,” ordered Franz. “Say good-bye to your cowboy.” Franz laughed in Devlin’s ear as he pointed the gun at Jake.
At that exact moment, Devlin lifted her right hand and buried the fabric shears deeply into William Franz’s groin. She twisted them viciously. For an instant, there was utter silence in the yard. Then Franz gave a high-pitched shriek and fell to his knees, the gun loose in his hand. His khakis were quickly stained red with blood. He reached for the shears imbedded deep in his groin. Devlin threw herself to the side, dropping to the ground. She glanced back at her uncle. He slowly raised his head and looked toward her, panting, his face a mask of pain and outrage.
With a shaking hand, he raised the pistol toward Devlin. “You fucking bitch!”
Jake was already diving for the shotgun. He grabbed it and rolled to his knees. Before Franz could pull the trigger, Jake fired at close range. Franz’s chest exploded. He fell backward into the green grass, mortally wounded. Jake discharged the spent shell casing as he approached the man. He thought briefly about unloading another round into the twitching body but decided against it. Devlin was all that mattered now.
Despite the fact that Franz was dying, Jake grabbed the pistol from his limp fingers and tossed it out of reach along with the shotgun. Devlin reached out to him, and he scooped her off the ground, racing for the car. By the time they made it to the front yard, he heard the sirens.
* * * *
Two hours later, Jake called Mike from the local hospital. Jake filled in the blanks from his end, while Mike provided the sequence of events that led up to Franz’s appearance in Grinnell.
“Oh,” Mike added, “I almost forgot. Mary had a little boy. She and the baby are doing well.”
Jake shook his head when he heard about Janice’s role in warning them all of Franz’s return. He asked Mike to thank her and said he and Devlin would talk to her personally when they got back in town.
“How’s Dev holding up?” asked Mike.
“Complaining. The doctors want to keep her here overnight for observation, just in case she has a concussion. She banged her head pretty hard.” Jake paused for a second and ran a hand along his jaw. “My God, Mike, she kept her cool. We might both be dead if she hadn’t managed to grab those scissors. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m guessing you weren’t a slouch yourself. Thank God it turned out the way it did.”
“You leaving on your honeymoon?”
“Nah,” replied Mike, “I think we’ll wait ’til you and Dev get back. We’ll both feel better when we see you with our own eyes.”
“Mike, thanks. If you hadn’t called when you did, I might have been too late.”
“No problem. Give our love to Devlin, and get your asses back he
re as quickly as you can.”
“Yeah, we will.”
Jake hung up the phone and returned to Devlin’s cubicle. He found her asleep. The ER doc had stitched the scalp laceration. It took thirteen stitches to close. Devlin refused to allow him to shave the area, so Jake told the doctor he’d help her get the dried blood out of her hair later. The doctor wouldn’t touch her lip, though. He was concerned he’d leave too big a scar, so he called in a retired plastic surgeon to do the repair. It looked good. Jake didn’t think Devlin would care much either way. He knew he didn’t. Franz was dead. Nothing else mattered.
Dev opened her beautiful eyes and looked up into Jake’s face.
“Thank you,” she said, her words slurred slightly by the Novocain. “Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for killing him.”
Jake lowered the safety bar and scooted her over on the gurney. He squeezed in beneath her, folding her in his arms and holding her tight.
“Anytime, darlin’,” he murmured in her ear. “Anytime.”
THE END
http://juliarachelbarrett.net
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Julia Rachel Barrett writes both fiction and nonfiction. Her favorite genres to read and write are romance/suspense and science fiction romance. She and her husband live in Northern California with their three children, new German shepherd puppy, assorted cats and two talkative parrots. She loves to hear from her readers.
Also by Julia Rachel Barrett
Captured
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com