Doubleback

by Lissa Ford

  Jude set self-recrimination aside for now. He’d dwell on it later…if there was a later. Right now, he needed to free himself.

  He flipped over on his stomach. He closed his eyes against a fresh surge of pain, his head splitting from being concussed. Once it subsided enough to move, he wiggled around and got his knees under him. Sweat poured into his eyes, stinging. He could barely catch his breath as he sucked air through nostrils half blocked by the duct tape. Desperately, his eyes roamed his room, searching for something, anything he could use to free himself. The door to his closet was cracked open. Painfully, slowly, he began to crawl toward it. He kept a spare tackle box in there; hopefully he’d left something useful in it—

  The distinctive snap-kthunk of a compound bow’s being shot made Jude’s heart stop.

  It was followed by the crack of a gun being fired, and another shot from the compound bow. A bitten off scream of a man in agony.

  “Oh, hell yeah,” he heard Kyle say from the kitchen.

  Then…silence.

  Jude thought his heart was going to slam a hole in his chest. He strained to hear anything from outside where Rowan would be standing, but his fucking heartbeat and dragging breaths were so loud in his ears. He made himself hold his breath, despite the fact that it sent his senses swimming.

  But the only thing he heard was Kyle’s footsteps leaving the kitchen and the sound of the front door being opened.

  Adrenaline surged into Jude. If Rowan was hurt—killed? Oh, sweet Jesus, no, that didn’t bear thinking about. Jude would kill Kyle with his bare hands.

  With renewed energy, Jude flung himself toward his closet, inching across the floorboard like a wounded inchworm. Eventually he made it to the door and nudged it open with his head. He nearly moaned with relief when he saw the zipper-and-canvas surface of his fly tie waist pack on the floor, partially buried under a tumble of shoes.

  Uncaring about any sounds he made now, Jude used his head and shoulders to dig the waist pack out from the litter in his closet. When the canvas bag was partially uncovered, he flipped over to let his bound hands try to unzip it. His fingers were clumsy from lack of circulation and wet from blood oozing from the cuts, but he finally got the zipper of the middle pouch open and worked his hand inside. He fumbled through reels, ties, bottles of fishing line cleaner, and nearly wept with relief when his fingers closed around a pair of sturdy scissor forceps used to take hooks out of the mouths of fish and smash down barbs.

  Jude inhaled a deep breath to calm his rocketing pulse. Then he began sawing away at the duct tape binding his wrists.

  He could hear the sounds of a car door opening and closing. Several times he had to pause, wipe the sweat from his dripping hairline on his shoulder or knee, then start again. After what seemed an eternity, the duct tape gaped enough where he could free his hands. He nearly cried out in relief when he wrenched the tape off. Hands freed, he rubbed circulation back in briefly before he pulled the tape off his mouth, wincing as the glue took some of his skin and beard with it. Then he sawed at the tape around his knees and ankles. As he did so, his ears strained to hear Kyle coming back into the cabin. But except for the sound of rain pattering on the roof, all was quiet. Not a good sign.

  Jude climbed to his feet, eyes closing briefly over the dizziness, listening as hard as he could while he moved silently down the hall. He leaned around the doorway to peer into the living area. Empty. Kyle was gone.

  Jude crept to the kitchen window to look out into his driveway, and what he saw sickened him. Natsios was lying on the wet ground next to the Crown Victoria. Rain pattered down on his still body. An arrow stuck out of his chest. The BCI detective would have died instantly, his heart cleaved through from the steel arrowhead punching it at 150 miles an hour.

  Rowan was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kyle. Jude knew that didn’t mean they couldn’t see him, though.

  Crouching to avoid being glimpsed from the windows, Jude hustled to the mudroom adjacent the kitchen. His three-tray tackle box was on the low wood bench where Jude usually sat to take off his muddy boots. Quickly he scrabbled through fly ties and other detritus until he found his Ka-Bar utility knife. The long steel blade and no-slip grip felt good in his hand. If Kyle killed Rowan, Jude would plunge this fucking knife into Kyle’s gut and stand over him while he watched the FLOW clerk die a slow, painful death.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  In the driveway next to the sedan, drag marks led to the woods, the kind of grooves made by someone hauling a limp body by the scruff of the neck. Blood streaked the gravel, now rapidly diluting under the rain. Natsios lay on his back next to the car, arms and legs flung starfish style, lifeless eyes staring up into the weeping sky.

  Shivering, Jude regarded the gruesome scene as the tell-tale burn ate into his chest and the tingling in his hands signaled an imminent panic attack. The top of his head felt like it was about to explode, and his thoughts scrambled around one thing: Rowan. He took a deep breath, willed his body to hang on. If he blacked out now, they’d all be dead, including him because he knew that when Kyle returned from whatever he was doing in the woods, Jude wouldn’t live to see the night.

  Swallowing hard, Jude crouched over Natsios’ still form and closed the staring eyes. Then he opened the cruiser’s door and reached inside to examine the radio console. Whatever happened to Rowan hadn’t given him enough time to hit the Mayday alarm. Jude punched the key. Even with law enforcement and EMS personnel responding ASAP it would take at least twenty minutes for the first team to arrive all the way out to Bear Swamp Forest. Rowan didn’t have that kind of time.

  The thought of Rowan in danger made his chest crater with fear. “Calm the fuck down,” he muttered, swiping rain out of his eyes with a trembling arm. “You don’t have time for your little pill.”

  Natsios’s sidearm was missing from its holster. Kyle didn’t miss a trick. Knife in hand, Jude began his fucked up limp-run toward the trees, praying that Rowan would still be alive when he found him. Because Jude wasn’t coming out of those woods without him.

  At the edge of the tree line, Jude paused to listen. He couldn’t hear anything but his heart thundering in his ears and rain pattering on foliage. Squirrels and birds had hidden away from both the weather and the intruder. The drag marks left obvious furrows in the dried leaves and pine needles, and no effort had been made whatsoever to hide them. Almost as if Kyle was deliberately enticing Jude to follow. He probably was.

  Absent time and the ability to come up with a clever plan, Jude began to follow the trail as silently as possible. For all he knew, Kyle had him in the sightline of his compound bow’s optic and was getting ready to take the shot. Jude couldn’t worry about that right now. All he could worry about was—

  Jude halted at the sight of a pair of legs visible from behind a fallen log. A whimper escaped Jude before he could stop it. Then he realized the legs were encased in the gray uniform of a New York State trooper. Jude suddenly remembered that Rowan had told him he was sending a trooper to Jude’s house to pick up Jude’s meds. The law enforcement officer was probably doing Rowan a personal favor. Now he was dead.

  Something cold and hard coalesced inside. He renewed his grip on the Ka-Bar and continued on.

  He didn’t have to go far. The trail ended at a figure crumpled against the trunk of a maple, clearly intended to be found. Jude didn’t care that he was walking into a trap. He rushed over to…

  “Rowan,” Jude breathed as he dropped on his knees next to Rowan’s unmoving form.

  Rowan’s face was waxy white around a bruise distending his temple. He was soaked through, his dark hair pasted to his head. Blood blossomed on his left shoulder through a round hole in his suit jacket; Jude could see the puncture wound of the arrow that had hit and then been roughly ripped back out. Jude put two trembling fingers to the cold skin of Rowan’s throat. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a weak pulse beating against his fingers. Rowan was alive, but wouldn’t be much longer if Jude didn’t ge
t help.

  Jude set the knife down on the soggy leaf bed and stripped off his flannel shirt, leaving him clad in only a tee shirt. He began to wind the flannel around Rowan’s wound as tightly as he could to apply tourniquet pressure, and hopefully buy some time until he could get Rowan to EMS.

  Rowan’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Baby,” Jude said in relief. “Hang on, I’m getting you out of here.”

  Rowan’s eyes looked almost black from distended pupils. His skin was clammy. Shit, he was going into shock, but his hand felt surprisingly strong when it clamped around Jude’s wrist. “No, you need to get out of here. This is a trap; I’m bait.”

  “Shut up. I’m not leaving you.”

  “Jude—”

  “I know it’s a trap.” Jude leaned down and pressed a silencing kiss on Rowan’s chilled mouth. He tugged the arms of his shirt tight around Rowan’s wound. Rowan cried out. “I’m sorry, but I need to staunch the blood,” Jude said.

  Rowan bit off another cry of pain when Jude knotted the arms of the flannel shirt together over the ragged hole. “What about Natsios?” Rowan asked grimly.

  Jude concentrated on making sure the makeshift tourniquet was secure. “He didn’t make it. Neither did the trooper you sent out to pick up my stuff.”

  “Fuck.” Rowan gave a violent shudder. “The arrow came out of nowhere. By the time I realized what was happening, Natsios had flown backward behind the car, and then I was hit.”

  “You’re lucky to be alive. Kyle shot you with a compound bow, the kind that can kill buffalo.”

  “I never felt pain like that. It dropped me in my tracks.”

  Jude dragged tender fingers over Rowan’s cheek, wishing he could take Rowan’s pain away. “How did you know to come out to the cabin in the first place?”

  “After Cyber delivered Gruber’s cellphone records this morning, we learned that Gruber had visited Blake at FLOW the night he died. I didn’t have enough evidence for probable cause to request a search warrant for Blake’s house, but when I got your phone message telling me you were going home, I almost had a heart attack.” Rowan’s voice was weak and his body quaked. “I knew that fucker was luring you out, but I didn’t have enough evidence to merit calling the cavalry, and Natsios, well, he wasn’t convinced either way. I wish I’d gone with my instincts.”

  “I’m sorry you were caught up in this shit.” Jude ran his hands over Rowan’s trembling limbs to see if he could impart some warmth into them. Jude recognized the signs of a body starting to go into shock and it was scaring the shit out of him. “I had no clue, either. Kyle is a fucking psychopath.”

  “Jude—”

  “I should have known better than to get you mixed up in my messed up life.”

  “Shut up. I want to tell you something.” Rowan coughed weakly. “Maybe I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. But finding out about you and Gruber…I never envied anyone the way I envied him. I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you about him.” Rowan swallowed and his gaze cut into Jude. “There’s something else. About when we split the first time.”

  “Ro, let’s not get into it now…”

  “You called it when you said I avoided you when you were in the hospital. But not for the reasons you think.” Rowan wheezed around another spasm of pain. “My…my old man. He died a slow, lingering death, hospitalized, drugged up and wasting away until I didn’t recognize him anymore. It was a shitty time in my life. I…couldn’t take being in that environment again. It dredged up…never mind what it dredged up. But I should have been there when you needed me. When you wanted to split up, I…it was a shock. By the time I got over it, too much time had passed. I couldn’t seem to find my way back to you. So I told myself we were over, done, finished. But as soon as I laid eyes on you again, I knew that was a crock of shit. I never forgot what we had together, and I missed it every day.”

  Jude stared at Rowan, stunned into silence.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Rowan continued. “I know I’m not what you want. But I…wanted you to know how I feel about you.”

  Rowan’s lids drooped shut. His breathing came in shallow puffs, and his body went limp.

  Fear surged through Jude. “Baby, you are what I want. Please, please don’t give up.” He gave Rowan a sharp shake, but Rowan’s head lolled. “We just found each other again. I can’t lose you now.” Jude’s heart pounded into his throat, nearly choking him. He cupped Rowan’s sagging head between both hands. Brokenly, Jude added, “You’re everything to me. You have been since the moment I met you.”

  A weak chuckle answered him. “Well, I guess I needed to die before you’d break down your wall, Anderson.”

  “You’re not going to fucking die!” Jude yelled into his face.

  “Yeah, he probably is,” Kyle said from behind them.

  Jude’s head jerked over his shoulder. Kyle stood calmly watching them both, the notched arrow of the compound bow aiming right at Jude’s back.

  “You really know how to complicate shit, Jude. Now I’ll have to kill you out here. Which sucks, because I didn’t get a chance to fuck you like I’d planned. At least I took care of this dude first.” He pointed the tip of the arrow at Rowan.

  Jude met Rowan’s eyes. Despair darkened them, turning them into two black pools in his white face. Kyle was going to kill Rowan. It was Jude’s last rational thought. The rest was subsumed under an ocean of rage. Instinct took over; his hand curled around the Ka-Bar lying next to Rowan. He rose from his crouch and flung it at Kyle.

  As expected, Kyle easily knocked the knife away but Jude wasn’t hesitating. He lunged at Kyle, going straight for the compound bow.

  Kyle stumbled and wrenched the bow out of Jude’s grip. Jude hissed as the cables stripped the skin on his fingers, but Jude kept powering forward until Kyle lost his footing in the slick leaf bed and fell backward.

  Instantly Jude tackled him, the bow trapped between their bodies. The arrow fell from Kyle’s loosened fingers. Jude used his superior weight to crush Kyle into the dirt. But Kyle wasn’t exhausted, nor had he been subjected to physical torture. He bucked and kicked, nailing Jude a few times in the ribs, but Jude ignored the shocks of pain and grabbed the bow. Inexorably, he forced the bow’s grip against Kyle’s throat.

  Kyle’s eyes bulged as he stared up at Jude over the aluminum frame pinned against his throat. He thrashed his hand toward the arrow lying on the leaf bed next to them. Jude knew that if Kyle got hold of the arrow, he’d stab Jude wherever he could with it, including Jude’s vulnerable jugular. So Jude relentlessly pushed the bow down into Kyle’s windpipe.

  Kyle gave a strangled hiss. Spittle flecked Jude’s face as Kyle heaved, trying to draw air into his crushed throat.

  Jude held on, crunching the bow into Kyle’s neck. Willfully, he ignored Kyle’s increasingly feeble struggles. Kyle’s eyes dimmed and his body loosened, the fight gone out of him.

  Jude thought about easing up. Kyle was clearly beaten, probably maimed for life. Then Jude remembered the dead. He remembered what Kyle could do, if freed.

  Kyle’s trachea snapped. His body went slack under Jude’s.

  Jude waited a beat until he was sure Kyle wasn’t going to hurt anyone else ever again. Then he scrambled off Kyle’s still body. Ignoring the impulse to vomit, he flung himself toward Rowan. Rowan had slumped forward from the tree, as if he’d tried to go to Jude’s aid but landed on his side.

  Jude shakily reached out to Rowan. “Rowan?”

  But Rowan laid unmoving, eyes closed and unresponsive. He’d passed out as he went fully into shock, body temperature dangerously low. He was still breathing, but his air intake was slight and diminishing. The makeshift tourniquet was already soaked through with blood.

  Jude could hear the thin scream of sirens over his dragging breaths. The cavalry. About fucking time. Jude knew Rowan didn’t have time to wait for EMS to find them in the woods. A few more minutes of bleeding out and Rowan would go into cardiac arrest.

 
; Jude took a deep breath and heaved to his feet. “Woah,” he muttered as vertigo assaulted him. His legs wobbled and his chest and bad leg burned, but he ignored the pain and rolled Rowan’s limp figure onto his stomach. Then he grasped Rowan’s armpits and hauled him up the front of Jude’s body for support. Rowan’s head lolled as Jude clutched him to his chest. “Hang on, baby,” he whispered into Rowan’s temple. “Please don’t leave me now.”

  Then Jude levered Rowan over his shoulder in the fireman’s carry. He nearly sank down to his knees under Rowan’s weight, but after a moment to steady them both, he was able to lurch toward the edge of the woods where red lights flashed between the thinning trees.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Spiderman ran in front of the truck, followed by the Little Mermaid and one of the X-Men. Jude hit the brakes and his arm shot out protectively across the chest of the man next to him. “Hang on.”

  Rowan hissed as the seatbelt jerked tight. His arm was wrapped in a sling. Nasty stiches crisscrossed his forehead, and there were dark smudges under his eyes, but he was alive. Warm, in one piece, and alive.

  “I’m not five years old, Mommy,” Rowan growled. “I’m not going to shoot out of the car seat if you come to a sudden stop.”

  Alive, but grumpy.

  “If you don’t behave, I’m not letting you stay up to watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” Jude’s hand covered Rowan’s and squeezed.

  “Jerk.” Rowan’s fingers squeezed back.

  Jude eased his truck through the Halloween-festooned neighborhood, on the lookout for more trick-or-treaters in the gathering dusk. Rowan had been discharged hours ago, but paperwork delayed his actual release until late afternoon. Early nightfall meant they were traveling in the prime trick-or-treating hour.

  It had been touch and go for a few days. By the time Jude had staggered out of the woods with Rowan to the waiting EMS vehicles, Rowan had gone completely into shock. It had taken 72 hours to get Rowan’s fluids and systems stabilized. He’d lost a lot of blood from the arrow wound, and the surgery to repair the torn muscle had been complicated. Needless to say, Rowan had a lot more sympathy for what Jude had gone through with his leg after his own ordeal.