by Alta Hensley
Satisfied no one was upstairs, I only had the basement left to check. I ran down the stairs toward the kitchen. I was at the basement door, turning the knob when the door behind me opened. Whirling, I lifted the gun and then dropped my arm.
“Damn it, Nolan! I could have shot you!” I said, pressing my free hand against my chest. “What are you doing here? Where did you get that gun?”
“Off the dead guy,” he said as if going near a dead body was a perfectly normal activity. His color hadn’t really improved, but he was standing a bit steadier. Evidently, the blood flow had at least slowed. “You can’t shoot someone unless you pull the trigger, Monet,” he said, using his gun to gesture toward the one I had hanging down at my side. I realized I’d not changed my grip to hook my finger around the trigger.
“Is Alana here?”
I shook my head. “No, but I haven’t checked the basement yet.”
“Let’s do that quickly.”
Seeing him take a step and wobble a bit, I shook my head. As much as I didn’t want to go down there alone, I wasn’t going to let him attempt navigating the steep stairs. If he collapsed, I’d never manage to get him upstairs again. “You stay here and stand guard. I’ll be right back.” The fact he didn’t argue told me he wasn’t anywhere near as stable as he’d like to appear. Before I could scare myself into a heart attack, I yanked the basement door open and raced down the stairs.
“Alana, it’s me. Where are you, honey?” I called, no longer that concerned about keeping quiet. She didn’t answer, and I didn’t hear as much as a squeak. “Alana, it’s okay. You can come out now.” Light shone through the small window above my head but didn’t reveal the young woman. If she wasn’t in the house, she had to be outside.
Where Callahan’s men were.
Where bullets were flying.
Where there was a fire blazing.
Where the rest of the men I loved were.
I ran back up the stairs, slamming the door behind me. “She’s not in the house,” I said. Nolan nodded, and together we left through the back door. “She might have gone to the woods to release a rabbit. Maybe she’s back in the garden now,” I said even though it was absurd to think of her weeding or pruning through a shootout, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to look.
“Stay close to the house,” Nolan instructed.
Nodding, I headed toward the garden where this awful journey had begun. Turning the corner, I ran into a brick wall. I was mid-scream when a hand clamped over my mouth.
“It’s me!”
It took my brain a moment to process that ‘me’ was Cal. And that ‘me’ was really ‘we’. Derrick and Rogan stood on either side of him and in the next moment, Nolan turned the corner as well. Cal’s hand slipped from my mouth. I wanted nothing more than to snuggle into my men… all of them, to close my eyes and have them tell me everything was all right, that this nightmare was over, yet, one question remained.
“Do you know where Alana is? Maybe the woods?” I asked quietly.
“No, I checked the trees. We didn’t find anything but a rabbit trap. We hoped she was with you. She’s not in the house?” Cal asked.
“No, we just came from inside—” Nolan began only to be cut off.
“Fuck! The barn!” Rogan said.
I grabbed his arm, shaking my head. “No, I opened every stall. Nolan got shot—”
Cal turned to Nolan. “How bad?” he asked, not having to clarify for Nolan to answer.
“I’ll live. More than I can say for the two fuckers I shot. How about you?”
Cal shook his head. “We took out four more, but no sign of Dallas.”
“Of course not,” Derrick snorted. “The asshole sends his henchmen to do his dirty work for him.”
I was glad to hear that Dallas’ men appeared to have all been killed, but this wasn’t yet over. Cal had said he’d found a trap in the woods, but Alana wouldn’t have just left it there. “If she released a rabbit, then where is Alana now?”
I heard an unfamiliar voice say. “She’s right here with me.”
Every O’Shea brother’s posture instantly changed. Four pairs of eyes turned darker than I’d ever seen. “Dallas,” I heard Cal say under his breath. We looked to our left where the voice had come from, to see a man holding a gun to Alana’s temple.
“Oh my God!” I said. I didn’t have to know this man to know he was someone who hated the O’Sheas. His smirk was evil as he ground the barrel of the gun harder against Alana’s tender skin, causing her to give a cry that had my heart seizing.
“She’s just a kid,” Rogan said. “Let her go.”
The man’s chuckle sent icy fingers down my spine. “Not a fucking chance in hell. Drop the guns and put your hands up,” Dallas said. “And no heroics. I’ve got a very sensitive trigger finger.”
I couldn’t draw a deep breath, but it wasn’t due to smoke this time. It was pure terror. This couldn’t be happening, and yet I could see Alana’s eyes, as big as saucers, the man’s arm around her throat, his other hand holding the gun that with a single movement could end her life. The brothers didn’t take their eyes off their enemy as they tossed their guns to the ground. I’d wanted someone to take the gun from me, but as I released it, letting it fall to my feet, I felt its loss.
“Put your hands on your heads and get over there,” Dallas said, taking the gun from Alana’s temple long enough to gesture to where the wishing well rose out of the ground several feet away. I could sense the brothers wanted to lunge forward, but Dallas jabbed the gun back to Alana’s head.
“Go ahead and try it, and I’ll blow your sister’s fucking brains out. Now, get the fuck back!” Dallas snarled.
“I’m sor—” Alana began, only to give a strangled whimper as Dallas tightened his grip around her throat, her fingers unable to pull his arm free.
“It’s all right,” Nolan said. “It’s not your fault.” His voice was soft, yet I could see the rage burning inside him—inside all of them as her brothers linked their fingers, lifted their hands to their heads, and backed away.
“You, too, girly,” Dallas instructed. “Get your ass over there.”
“Let the women go. Neither one has anything to do with this,” Cal said.
“They’re here with the rest of the O’Shea trash. That’s good enough for me,” Dallas said. “Shall I send your piece of ass to hell first?” Again, the gun was removed, this time to point directly at me. How I didn’t faint, I’ll never know, but I didn’t, and I didn’t scream. I simply put my hands on top of my head and moved to stand with the others.
“What do you want, Dallas?” Derrick snarled.
“Want?” Dallas repeated. “Now, let me see, what could I possibly want?” All signs of any humor, forced or otherwise disappeared as he glared at us, venom dripping with every word he spoke. “You took it all, burned my empire to the ground. Did you honestly think I was going to let that go? So, what do I want? I want you to pay. I want my fucking life back.”
Cal suddenly stepped past me, and I watched Dallas’ eyes flare before he seemed to remember he was the only one who still had a weapon. He removed the gun from Alana’s temple to point it at Cal.
“Stop or I’ll shoot,” Dallas said.
“Let her go, Dallas,” Cal said. “She’s an innocent. She’s never done anything to you. It was me. I’m the one responsible. I’ll pay the price.”
Dallas’ chuckle sounded strangled, but the gun never wavered. “You can’t afford my price. You destroyed my businesses, my houses, even my fucking yacht. It would take millions to replace it all, and since you’ve made damn sure no one will do business with me again, that’s never going to happen. Now, get the fuck back.”
“No,” Cal said, moving forward again. “Yes, you can shoot me, but you’d better not miss, and you’d better be able to take us all out. I don’t give a fuck about what you lost. Every deal you made was tainted. Everything you had was bought with blood money. You lied, cheated, and fucked over every
person you came into contact with. I’m offering you what you took from my parents. Your life. I’m offering you a chance to walk away; I suggest you take it.”
I wanted to grab Cal’s arm, pull him back, and yet I understood his actions. Though all of us, including me, would offer ourselves in exchange for the one person who was truly innocent of any wrongdoing, Cal was asserting his birthright. As the oldest, he was demanding his brothers allow him to sacrifice himself.
Dallas, evidently knowing nothing of honor, of pride, courage or love, couldn’t seem to accept the fact his adversary wasn’t bluffing. He continued to tell Cal to stop, to get back, but was ignored until Cal was less than fifteen feet from him.
“Fine. Your life for hers,” Dallas said with a sneer. I watched as he released Alana, saw her stumble as he pushed her away. “Go on, then. Join your fucking family.”
She looked at Dallas, at us, and then at her oldest brother.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Cal said softly. “Everything is going to be all right.”
“See you in hell,” Dallas said, and time stood still.
I heard the gun go off, heard Cal scream, and yet it wasn’t he who fell. I watched a flower of red bloom on Alana’s chest, growing larger as she stilled her flight. She’d not run toward us, but toward her eldest brother. I stared in horror as she looked down, her hand lifting to wipe at the blood staining her white dress. Her knees buckled, and her eyes lifted to us as she crumpled to the ground.
“Alana!” I screamed, running toward her. I knelt beside her, gathering her to me, looking up to see her brothers, and my blood turned to ice.
As one, they moved toward Dallas, ignoring his cry that it wasn’t his fault, that she’d run into the bullet’s path. Not a single one of them seemed the least bit concerned when Dallas lifted the gun again, pulled the trigger over and over, the shots reverberating around the yard, bullets flying God only knew where as the O’Shea brothers took justice into their own hands.
Once they had Dallas unarmed, the gun thrown as far as Cal could toss it, they yanked his arms behind him. Grabbing a coil of rope by the garden gate, they hogtied him, leaving him face down in the dirt as they came over to where I cradled Alana.
As one, they knelt around her, each reaching out to touch her. Nolan to tuck a strand of golden hair behind her ear. Rogan to take her hand. Derrick to take her other, and Cal to place a kiss on her forehead. It was the most poignant thing I’d ever seen. Four huge men brought to their knees by the love of their little sister. A woman they’d adored since her birth. One they’d teased and spoiled. One they loved beyond measure. A young, innocent woman who loved them just as much. One who had proven she was an O’Shea… sacrificing her life for her brother’s.
Her eyelids fluttered open, the blue, so brilliant it was impossible to believe life was fading from her. When her lips moved, Cal reached out to stroke her cheek.
“Shh, don’t try to talk,” he said. “You aren’t alone. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”
“Just rest,” Rogan said softly, lifting her hand to press a kiss on her palm.
“Love…”
The word was said so softly that I was unsure it had been uttered, when Nolan said, “We love you, too, sweetheart.”
Her lips curled and then she gave a small wince, her eyes closing for a moment. When they opened again, Nolan said, “You’re going to be fine…”
I watched her gaze move from brother to brother, giving them each a moment and then she looked up at me. “Love them… all… forever.”
I couldn’t stop the tears from overflowing but knew she understood she wasn’t going to be fine. Bending down, I brushed another curl back as I made my vow.
“I will… I promise.”
“Each one,” she gasped.
“Each one.”
She gave a final weak smile and her eyes fluttered closed. The breath she drew in was ragged, her chest barely rising, her skin growing even paler as her body released the spirit of the most selfless, most courageous, most loving woman I had ever known.
I’d known fear at the hands of these men, yet looking at them now, I understood I’d known nothing of the kind. Never in my life had I seen men when every cell in their bodies seemed to scream retribution. One by one they rose, knowing Alana was gone. They couldn’t save her… all they could do was avenge her. I’d never considered myself a violent person. Never thought I’d ever be able to feel anything but righteousness in the face of useless violence, but this… I not only understood, I agreed the only justice that would serve would be that doled out by O’Shea hands.
“No!” Dallas screamed when the brothers each took a limb, lifting him from the ground without a word. “It’s not my fault! You can’t do this!”
I didn’t follow them, choosing to stay with the young woman I’d come to not only love but to respect. Brushing her hair back, I bent to kiss her cheek, saying my own goodbye.
“You told me to never let anyone stop me from loving,” I said, tears falling freely. “You taught me that giving your heart, your soul… your life to another is the greatest gift… the greatest blessing. I will never forget you. I promise to do all I can to make sure your brothers know they are loved… that I love them with all I have. We’re going to miss you so much, but I know you’re with your mom and dad. Rest in peace, Alana, and thank you for being in my life.” I took a shaky breath, tears blurring my vision as I looked up to the sky. “Gigi, this is Alana… you’re going to love her. Take care of her until we see each other again.”
I sat on the ground, rocking Alana, knowing her spirit was already gone. Knowing the world lost a beautiful soul, and when I heard the sound of tortured screaming, I knew Alana’s brothers had given her murderer… their parents’ murderer a taste of what he’d know for the rest of eternity by throwing him into the inferno of the barn. And when the screaming stopped, I knew Hell had accepted another monster into its fiery embrace…
And I was glad.
Chapter Twenty
Monet
“Let me take her.”
I lifted my head to find Cal squatting on the other side of Alana’s body, his pain written all over his face. He wasn’t alone. Several people were milling around the yard, and I became aware of a swirl of lights. Help had arrived. Internally, I scoffed… help. They’d come too late… far too late to help.
“Let me take her,” Cal repeated, and I finally nodded, having no real sense of time or how long I’d sat by Alana’s lifeless body. I relaxed my hold as Cal slipped his arms under his sister, lifting her in one move, not caring about the blood that transferred from her dress to his shirt as he cradled her against him. It broke my heart to see her hair hanging down, her arm limp at her side.
I watched as his brothers gathered around him and only then, as a group, did they move to carry Alana to the waiting ambulance. I pushed to my feet, every muscle in my body protesting. I walked toward the house, turning the corner and seeing that the barn was still burning. Had they found the body? What would happen when they did?
It was only then I realized that though there were people of authority, men in uniform filling the yard, more fighting the fire, not a single one moved to take charge or challenged the O’Sheas. No one had questioned Cal moving Alana’s body. No one was waving handcuffs ready to take them into custody despite the bodies lying about. These four brothers might not be the law, but they were definitely the ones in charge.
“Are you hurt?”
“What?” I said, turning to the woman who’d walked up beside me.
“I asked if you’re hurt?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “But Nolan… he was shot. You need to take care of him. I tried to stop—”
She reached out and touched my arm softly. “It’s all right,” she said, giving me a smile. “Actually, Mr. O’Shea was the one who sent me to check on you. Said you’d been in the barn, saved the animals—”
“Alana… we… she…”
“Shh,” the
paramedic said, “I know… I’m so sorry. Come with me. You need to be examined. You’ve got some burns on your arms, and you are about to collapse.”
When I began to protest, she shook her head. “Don’t worry. I promise, Mr. O’Shea will be examined as well. But, let’s get you to the ambulance and find you a blanket. You must be cold.”
Cold? Why would she think I was cold? I pushed my hair back from my face, my fingers caught in the tangles. That was when I realized my arm was bare… my blouse. I’d used it for Nolan. I’d never even thought about the fact I’d been running around in nothing but my skirt and a thin camisole. Now that I did, though, I began to tremble and then to shake.
“I need some help here,” the woman called, slipping an arm around my waist when my knees buckled.
“I-I’m fi… fine,” I said, my teeth chattering together.
“No, the adrenaline is wearing off and you’re going into shock.” This came not from the paramedic, but from Derrick who swept me up.
I tried to hold it together, but being in his arms, pressed against his chest, I lost it. Turning my face into his chest, I let go. The convulsions shaking my entire body came not from the cold or from shock, but from the sobs I couldn’t seem to stop. I wasn’t aware of being put into the ambulance, only barely conscious of the slight sting of a needle. All I saw was Derrick squatting beside me, brushing my hair back and telling me everything would be all right.
I couldn’t accept the lie, couldn’t bear the pain in his eyes, so I closed mine, grateful to slip away into the darkness.
When I woke, the beep of the machines behind me hadn’t changed. That sound had been my constant companion for the past two days. I’d been poked and prodded, had blood drawn and x-rays taken. Though my left forearm had gauze wrapped around it, the burns beneath covered in ointment, it was no longer as annoying as the needle in my right. I followed the tubing up to the bag hanging above me, the fluid dripping drop by drop into my vein, keeping me hydrated as it was still a bit difficult to swallow, my throat raw. I felt as if I’d gone fifteen rounds in a boxing ring, but I wasn’t focused on a few aches and pains. Today, I’d finally be leaving the hospital, finally going home.