by A. D. Roland
“You’re not getting a dime of it, K. I swear it.” He only laughed and slapped her lightly on the top of her head. “Get the hell up and dig.” K was still laughing. His mirth distracted him. Get ready, something inside her said. As if they understood, the birds stopped singing. The buzz of the insects, usually almost deafening, faltered, failed entirely. Scruffy started growling.
“What’s his problem?” K demanded.
“You’re a stranger in his territory. Since you sent that guy a while back, he’s been paranoid.” K fired a round at the dog. It plowed into the ground an inch from his paw. Scruffy darted into the woods.
NOW! Everything in her screamed the word, and almost of its own volition, Mattie swung the shovel, blade-wise, at K’s midsection. The shovel cut through the air beneath his arm and struck him hard across the ribs. He grunted and went down, but not before firing another round.
Mattie didn’t realize it had buried itself in her left arm until she found herself grappling with K on the ground for the gun, and blood splattered into his face. She found the gun pressed against her ribs, off-center. K grinned, a terrible, cold grin, and pulled the trigger twice.
Scruffy erupted from the woods again and tore into K’s face. Screaming, K released the gun. Mattie kicked the dog away, then hollered at him to stay down.
She had the gun. It was warm in her hands.
K glared up at Mattie. “You think you’re going to survive that?” Mattie refused to take her eyes off K, not even to take a look at the source of the fiery, dizzying agony in her midsection. She touched the hot, wet spot and bit back a cry of fear. He sat up and Scruffy circled him, low to the ground, growling. He eyed the dog warily.
Mattie looked at the gun in her hand. She didn’t want to use it to finish this. It was too impersonal. Her entire body hurt from what he’d done to her. Every thing he’d ever done to her crashed around her like crystal, a deafening scream of agonies past. She clutched her hands to her ears, the gun a dead weight in her right hand. When she could breath again, she hurled the gun into the bushes.
K laughed. “I knew you couldn’t do it. You’re weak, Mats.”
The warrior stepped up behind her, closed her ethereal hands over Mattie’s. “You’re the reason,” she said.
Mattie knelt and gripped the shovel by the handle with her right hand. Her left was nearly useless. Her shoulder wouldn’t move right. Bone grated on bone, an excruciating pain that nearly eclipsed the fire in her ribs.
“What are you going to do with that, huh?” K taunted as he rose from the ground into a crouch.
She swung the shovel with all the strength she could muster, throwing her entire weight behind the swing. The grungy blade caught him across the throat with a clang. He hit the ground again, hands to his neck, bucking and making a horrible, hacking, gagging sound. Bloody foam appeared at the corners of his lips.
Even with her shattered shoulder and broken hand, she raised the shovel again. She brought the flat of the tool down on his face.
I’m the reason.
She slammed the shovel down on his face again. His blood splattered on her legs. His hands flailed, grasping only air. Sobbing, she lifted the shovel and let it fall on his face. Her shoulder gave out entirely with a mind-numbing snap of bone. With just her right hand, she lifted it high, blade down.
And Molly’s the reason. And West is the reason.
West is my reason!
She slammed the blade down on his throat. The full blade gouged through his skin, into his flesh. Mattie’s world swirled, tilted, and she dropped to her knees next to his ruined head. K twitched and gurgled.
Black spirals spun through her vision and wobbled. She picked up a rock and smashed it against his forehead, his cheekbones, his mouth. All the horrible sounds stopped, at last.
When her vision narrowed to just a pinprick of light, a blur of blood and ruined flesh, she let the rock fall from her hand.
Gotta get away from him. One last time, have to get away from him.
She inhaled. Hurt to breathe. Couldn’t get a good breath. Each exhale required a wet, thick cough. She wasn’t hurting anymore. Without a doubt, that wasn’t a good thing. She pushed herself to her feet, moving on autopilot. The warrior-strength was gone. She missed it. She could use the help right about now.
Two steps, and she stumbled, fell.
On her knees and her right hand, she crawled further from K’s body. She hoped he was dead. If he wasn’t, he was wishing he was. Well, if he did a miraculous resurrection, she’d done enough damage that he was regretting the hell of a life he’d forced on her.
She was happy with that. Biting her bottom lips, she forced back the blackness that tried to claim her. No, I won’t go now, she thought. The sun seemed way too bright as she cleared the branch.
Beyond the oak tree, the dead orange trees made her cry, because they made her think of West. West, tending the living plants with such a gentleness and tenderness that it made her ache inside. Young West, playing with Elaine, loving her even though they were just children. West, loving her, even though he knew she had some awful secrets. Mattie couldn’t force herself to walk another step, so she lowered herself as gently as she could to her knees in the long grass.
You’re my strength. You’re my reason. I love you, West.
The grass was soft beneath her cheek, pillowy. I should have done this more often. The sun warmed her back, and a cricket creaked somewhere close to her head. The wind blowing through the dead trees was a lullaby like no other.
I’m just going rest here for a minute. Scruffy whined and licked her arm and her upturned cheek. He plopped down next to her and howled.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sweat ran down West’s face and dripped into his eyes. He cursed and blinked away the discomfort. He leaned forward, hard and fast. He’d broken the zip ties earlier. These were tighter. HE was too tired, and he hurt too badly to put all his effort into it. Logan’s kick had broken some ribs for sure.
When he was sure K was gone, he ignored the agony and contorted his arms until he got his phone out of his pocket. Battery was dying. He didn’t have much time left. All the missed calls--all Jose--scrolled across the screen. He tapped the notification and redialed his friend.
“Fuck, man, I’ve been trying to get you for two hours now!” Jose exclaimed into the phone. “Where are you?”
“About five minutes from Carter’s shed. Where are you? What’s going on?”
“It’s all going to hell. Get here quick.”
True to his word, five minutes later, the rusty roar of Jose’s ancient SUV filled the metal-walled shed. West started hollering.
Jose’s tall, sturdy shape filled the doorway, blocking out the sunlight. West almost went limp with relief. “Cut me loose!”
Jose ran over and pulled out his pocketknife. He sliced through West’s ties, then Emeline’s.
“What the hell, man? Your trailer burned down and you and Mattie disappeared. McKendrick had cops out at my house last night wanting to know if Mattie kidnapped Emeline.”
“It’s not Mattie. It’s somebody she knew, before she came here. Come on. Give me your keys. We have to go to my place now.”
West propelled Emeline out the door and opened the back door of the SUV for her. She clambered in, sobbing. Jose jumped into the passenger seat while West threw himself behind the steering wheel.
The battery alert on his phone beeped. Cursing, he grabbed Jose’s cell phone out of the cupholder as he speed-reversed. Jose cried out in protest when he clipped an oak sapling and took out a mini- grove of tiny pine trees.
West got the vehicle turned around and jammed the gas pedal all the way down. The Ford shot forward. Jose yelped and grabbed frantically for his seat belt. West punched 911 into the keypad and hit send.
“My wife and my sister-in-law were just kidnapped. They’re forcing my wife to hold her sister for ransom.”
The operator fell silent. “Excuse me?” he said.
�
��My wife and my sister-in-law have been kidnapped. Did you understand that? Good. Now listen. The guy that took them has my wife and is headed back to my house. He thinks there’s money buried on the property. He is armed and dangerous—and he has my wife!”
“Sir, if you’ll give me your location, I’ll have a deputy come to you right away.”
“No! I don’t want a deputy to come to me. I want someone to get to my house and save my wife!”
“Please hold, sir.” Silence fell over the line. West felt like beating the phone on the dashboard.
“Are they all idiots?” he raved to Jose. He turned on the highway, nearly taking the SUV up on to two wheels. Another male voice spoke into his ear. “Sir, my name is Detective Locke. What’s your name?”
“Brant West. My wife is Mattie West. I’m pretty sure you’ve already gotten a bunch of calls about her from her father and her aunt. You have to listen to me.”
“Mr. West, where are you? We’re looking for you, you know.”
“Good! K beat the crap out of both me and Mattie. He’s forcing her into this. It’s not Mattie, do you understand? She didn’t kidnap Emeline.”
“Mr. West, I need you to tell me your location. We want to help you and Mattie. We need to know where you are, first.”
“I’m on my way to find my wife. She’s headed to my house with this guy. They’ve got to be there by now. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to end well at all.”
“Okay, Mr. West. You’re saying that this guy ‘K’ is taking Mattie back to your house. Why?”
“Money! Mattie convinced the guy that I’ve got money buried in my backyard.”
“Wait, Mr. West. You’re telling me Mattie didn’t kidnap her sister?”
“Yes!” West had to slam on the brakes to keep from rear-ending some idiot out for a leisurely drive. Despite the semi-truck bearing down on him in the opposite lane, he swung out and passed the white Buick. Jose cringed deeper into the seat. “They are on their way now. They left from the woods behind Carter Thomas’s fernery about thirty minutes ago.”
“How did you get this information, Mr. West?”
“I don’t have time for this. Once this is over with, I’ll tell you anything you need to know.” West snapped the cell phone closed and tossed it into Jose’s lap. He glanced at the clock. “I don’t know what she’s got planned, but I’m never going to make it.”
***
“The grove,” West said. He floored the gas pedal and the Explorer bounced across the yard. Jose gasped and gripped the door with one hand and the armrest console with the other.
West careened between two decaying trees, getting as close as he could to the oak tree. It was just ahead, a couple hundred yards away.
“What’s that? There’s somebody laying on the ground, man!” Jose was out of the truck before West even hit the brake.
West followed on his tails, knowing the only person Scruffy would sit so close to like that was Mattie.
“Mattie!” He dove to his knees at her side. She was on her belly, a soft, serene smile on her face, eyes closed. He brushed it aside, gently, his fingers grazing over the terrible disfigurement on her cheek. “Mattie, baby?”
“Damn, West.” Jose’s voice was thick with horror, with tears. West looked down at the ground surrounding Mattie. The grass was stained with her blood.
“Oh, Mattie,” he murmured. Gently, he gathered her sun-warmed body into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Jose, call 911. Please.”
“On it, man.” Jose had barely pulled his phone out of his pocket when the first police car roared into the orange grove, sirens blaring.
Mattie moaned softly in his arms, her right hand rising to her shoulder. Her strength failed, and it dropped to the ground.
“Mattie, I’m here, babe. I’m here.”
She struggled to open her eyes. With every breath, more pink froth gathered on her lips. West wiped it away, ever so gently. Her stomach and chest were a gory mess, and the fingers that K had broken were purple and swollen. “West.”
“Shh. Don’t talk, okay?” Tears spilled from her eyes.
“He’s dead.”
“Good. If I wasn’t holding you, I’d go piss on him.”
She managed a weak little smile. “You’re my reason, West.”
“Shh. I mean it.”
“It doesn’t even hurt anymore, West. I’ve been waiting for you. Gotta say something...” She was getting weaker even as she spoke. West bit back his tears at first, but then he couldn’t hold them off any longer.
“I know it’s just business, but I love you, Brant West.”
“Oh, God, Mattie don’t say that. Don’t, not now. You’ve got to say that to me when you’re not...when there aren’t...you can’t say that to me now.”
She nodded. “Not another chance, baby.”
“Yes. Yes, you will, love. You will. I swear it.”
Mattie only smiled that creepy serene smile and went limp in his arms, turning her head toward his chest. Her breathing seemed to be getting shallower. When the EMTs ran up, he sobbed with relief, kissing Mattie’s face over and over again. “They’re here, baby. They’re here and they’re going help you.”
He reluctantly relinquished her into the arms of the medics. He raced after them as they rushed her to the ambulance and watched, horrified, as they pushed a tube down her throat. “It’s to help her breath,” one of the EMTs said.
“She’s dying, isn’t she?” West asked, his voice breaking. “It doesn’t look good,” the woman replied, honestly. “Can I ride to the hospital with her?”
“Yes. But if something happens along the way, you’ve got to stay out of our way.”
“Of course.”
***
Six hours of sweat and blood and tears shed in the surgical waiting room ended when the doctor stepped through a set of double doors. Pale and haggard, he guided West into a small room.
“Is Mattie alive?”
“She made it, just barely. It’s still touch and go. The bullets did a lot of damage, and she lost a lot of blood. We’ve done all we can.”
West sagged into the nearest chair, relieved that she was alive, but terrified about one tiny thing. “She’s pregnant. We just found out.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. West. Our focus is on saving her life. Her body is working on saving itself, as well. Bear with me and I’ll explain everything that happened and how we fixed it.”
***
They let him in to see her for a few minutes. So many tubes and wires and monitors trailed away from her body that he wasn’t sure he could even get close to her. A nurse brushed by him and moved a few of the unidentifiable medical gizmos away from the bed just enough for him to squeeze into the narrow space.
“Five minutes,” she whispered on her way out.
Mattie looked like death warmed over. Her pale skin looked translucent. Even in the dim light he could see the trace of blue veins in her eyelids and her chest. She was naked beneath the sheet, swathed in bandages and round white sticky pads for the monitors. Two of the bullets had entered her chest at an angle, causing devastating damage to her left lung, narrowly missing her heart. The other one should have killed her, the doctor said. It lodged in her torso, the velocity-flatted tip just touching her carotid artery. The third bullet shattered her shoulder.
“Mattie West,” he whispered, touching her hair. Blood still matted it into dark clumps. The blood had been cleaned from her cheek and her upper chest. The crude ‘K’ etched into her cheek made him so, so angry. It was going to be a nasty scar. She didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve to walk around with that stigma on her. The plastic surgeon had done a good job closing it up and cleaning up the jagged edges, but she’d have that horrid reminder forever.
“And you knew you might not walk away from him alive,” he whispered. “Mattie, you’re too damn stubborn. You knew that wasn’t going to end well, and you did it anyway.” He held her hand to his lips. “Mattie, I love you. I mean it. I wish to
God I’d told you that before now.” He wished he’d let her know the first time he’d made love to her.
All that crap he’d spouted about not wanting to love her ‘like that.’ Being friends was okay. Friends with benefits—even better. Just because they had to be married wasn’t any reason to get all mushy-gushy. Besides, if they decided to love each other as anything more than just friends, what would they do when the year was up?
Mattie had been determined not to stay, and he was determined to win back Emeline. God, how things had changed!
“It’s you I want,” he told her, finally. He stroked her cheek and her lips, hungering for just one more kiss. Just one more day.
No, more than that.
Forever. West wanted forever with her. “I want a year of you. I want hundred years of you.”
The ventilator pushed air into her lungs, slowly, rhythmically.
“Because I want more of you, I’m going to find out who you are, Mattie. I’m going to find out everything about you, so there won’t be any more questions.”
His cell phone vibrated wildly in his pocket, startling him. He took his eyes off Mattie long enough to check the caller ID. Emeline’s.
How predictable.
“I’m sorry, Mr. West, but it’s time to go,” the nurse said gently. “We’re moving her to ICU, and you’ll be able to stay with her longer once we get her settled.”
His voice caught on the huge ball of emotion stuck in his throat. He suppressed his sobs, but he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks.
“I don’t want to leave her,” he managed to gasp out. He looked up at the nurse as if she could ease his pain. “I fought so hard to get her out of my life at first, but now, the thought of going a day without her is killing me.”
“Aw, Mr. West,” the nurse said, approaching him and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I really hate to have to ask you to leave her. If it makes you feel any better, just know that she’s completely unconscious. The doctors put her in a coma to help her heal better.”