"You're doing great, Tiger. Hang in there."
Tiger.
I nodded again, it seemed to be all I could do.
The tyres crunched over grains of sand blown across the carpark, I switched the headlights off, but Andrews would have seen us coming along the main road that led into the beach long before now. If he was here, he'd know we were now here too. The engine ticked over quietly, it had hardly built up any heat in the short drive here, but I had gunned it.
I wrapped my arms around my t-shirt covered upper body, as the chill wind off the sea seeped through the worn weave of my top. I dreaded to think how cold Daisy was, just in her PJ's and nothing else. I turned back to the car to see if there was something to wrap her in when we got her back, my mind only allowing me to think of a positive outcome or I would drown beneath that black ice shelf that hovered above.
But Ryan had already pulled a woollen blanket from the back seat and had it clasped in one of his hands, the other resting on his still holstered gun. I paused, my eyes taking all of him in, feeling a strange sense of unity, a welcoming sense of family with this wonderful man. Feeling a connection that went deeper than skin, that I felt inside my chest, could see inside my mind.
I reached out a hand and took the blanket, crushing it to my chest.
"Ready?" he whispered. I blinked. He just nodded his head and clasped my free hand.
We approached the toilet block, as it seemed to be the only obvious shelter on all of the beachfront. Waves gently rolled up over the sand, stars twinkled in the dark night sky. A shell crunched beneath my shoe and I glanced down. Daisy would have liked to collect seashells here. Instead she'd been denied that happy moment, and now would only be reminded of this evil night when she thought again of beaches and the treasures to be found there.
I vowed to make happier memories for her, like I'd tried to make for Ryan at his mother's house.
Ryan stopped us in the shadow of the toilets, we both strained to hear a sound over the rush of waves and gentle breeze in the air. He inched closer to the corner, intending to sneak a glance around the edge, but before he'd made it a voice called out; cheerful, playful... vile.
"Come out! Come out! Wherever you are!"
My hand jerked in Ryan's, my body went completely stiff. I forced air into my lungs, as all blood left my head.
He thought it was a game; a sadistic, cruel game. He had my baby girl in his hands and he teased us with her life.
I looked up and Ryan was watching me, a muscle jumping along his bearded jaw.
"We're coming out!" he shouted.
"Now, Detective Sergeant. Do make sure that gun of yours is left behind. If I see it in your holster, or anywhere else for that matter, I'll put a bullet through the kid's head."
My body shook, my breaths came in pants, Ryan tightened his grip on my hand and slipped the gun from its holder on his belt. He leaned down and placed it on the concrete beside the toilet block wall. When he stood up again and faced me, there was a novel's worth of words in the concentrated look of his eyes.
I didn't have it in me to read them. I hoped he'd get a chance to say them when this was all said and done.
We stepped out from behind the building just as the moon was covered by a cloud. Probably the only fucking cloud in the entire night sky, but its timing felt ominous. Coincidences aren't my thing, but I forced my nerves to calm. Andrews was a dark shadow against a darker sky as we walked towards him. I strained to see Daisy, but he appeared to be standing alone. Was there another player? Had he dumped her somewhere and we were simply walking to our deaths?
If Daisy was... dead, I might as well be.
Ryan's firm and unwavering hold of my hand righted my course. I took another shaking step towards the shadowed man before us.
"Do you have the book?" Andrews asked.
"Yes," Ryan replied.
"Show me."
"Show us Daisy," Ryan countered.
Andrews shrugged, taking a step to the side and revealing the body of my daughter, curled up in a ball on her side, thumb in mouth, trembling. She hasn't sucked on her thumb since she was two.
I took an involuntary step towards her, Andrews raised a gun.
"The ledger."
"It's in the back of my jeans, I need to reach for it," Ryan pointed out.
"Turn around, lift your shirt from the neckline," Andrews coolly replied, proving he was indeed once a cop.
Ryan shifted slowly, clearly hating having his back to the man, but did as he'd been instructed and lifted his t-shirt from his shoulders, exposing the book in his waistband.
"Mrs Costello, kindly lift the ledger from his jeans," Andrews asked.
So formal. So creepy. So wrong.
I pulled the book free and held it in front of me, pressed up to the blanket which was still clutched to my chest.
"Walk over and hold it out to me."
"Let Daisy walk here first," Ryan argued.
"If that's your level of negotiating skills, Pierce, I'm surprised you made Sergeant."
"Come on, Andrews. A show of faith."
"Why should I give you that? You never did me."
"You weren't holding a five year old ransom for a book."
"You think I liked lying down with that scum?"
I was losing the train of where this was going. My eyes only for Daisy, her eyes locked on mine. Hang in there, baby. Mummy's coming. Daddy will work it out.
"I had no choice," Andrews was saying.
"I've heard that a lot lately," Ryan remarked. "Doesn't change the fact that you've got a five year old girl at your feet shit scared. Is this the sort of man you really are, Andrews?"
"I don't give a fuck what sort of man you think I am. I will have that book."
"And we'll give it to you. Just hand over Daisy and it's yours."
Andrews hesitated. I was surprised to see that Ryan's consistent and calm demands had actually made it through this lunatic's thick skull.
"Got your handcuffs?" he suddenly asked.
"Yes," Ryan said, through slightly gritted teeth.
"Left hand only. Get them out."
Ryan followed his instruction, pulling the handcuffs free from his belt with his left hand.
"One on your right wrist, the other on your left, behind your back."
Ryan didn't even pause, just clicked the manacles in place behind his back, making himself vulnerable in front of an armed, crazy man.
"Get up kid," Andrews said, giving Daisy's form a shove with his booted foot.
My heart leapt into my throat. Daisy stumbled to her feet, swaying slightly. My heart plummeted to my toes.
"Now Mum, you're gonna do what a million other mothers say they'd do, but never get the chance."
Ice filled my veins.
"You're gonna give your life for your daughter's. Ain't that a bitch?"
I lifted my chin and took a step forward.
"Wait!" Ryan said, almost desperately. "What do you plan to do with this thing?" He nodded his head towards the book in my hands. "How's it going to help McLaren now?"
"Richard Costello's wife will make for good insurance, but if that fails, he'll pull in favours. Lots of them in there, no doubt you've already seen who. Some of them are powerful allies to have."
Or dangerous enemies to provoke, I thought numbly. His funeral. Maybe mine as well. But at least Daisy would live.
I glanced at Ryan; caught his gaze, made sure my eyes said everything I couldn't right now... Look after her.
He shook his head. His eyes argued, You're not going anywhere.
Mine gently countered, You know that's not true.
His pleaded, Don't say that. We'll get through this.
I smiled. My eyes whispered, I love you.
"No," he rasped, aloud. Then in a firmer voice said, "Me and the ledger, for Daisy and Marie."
No!
"Now why would McLaren want you, when he can have the bitch who started this all?"
Ryan didn't look at Andre
ws, he looked right into me. I saw an apology there. For what he was doing, or for what he was about to say. I didn't know, I just knew I didn't like it. I reached for him, but he turned away, and with his hands still cuffed behind his back he somehow managed to grasp the book and tug it free.
"A cop is a much better bargaining tool than a civilian," Ryan pointed out, taking a step towards Andrews, who lifted his gun in a steady hand to aim for Ryan's face. "But I think McLaren would find this ironic, don't you? Marie watching the man she loves trade his life for hers and her child's. Again."
Oh, fuck. No!
Andrews head tilted to the side as he considered that.
"You know what, Pierce. You understand your criminals, don't you?"
"To their rotten cores."
"Start walking," Andrews commanded.
My heart faltered, beat unmercifully behind my ribs, all breath stolen. Ice encased my neck, my throat, my chest. I was drowning, I was dying.
I was watching the man I loved walk to his death.
I stumbled, Ryan glanced over his shoulder.
"Come on, Tiger. You can do this," he said.
No! Tears sprang to my eyes, making everything waver.
"Get walking kid. I got bigger fish to fry," I heard Andrews say from down a bleak, dark tunnel.
I sank to my knees in the sand, salt from the sea mixed with salt from my tears on my trembling lips. Daisy appeared in my blurred vision, I automatically reached out with the blanket and wrapped her up, cuddling her to my chest. I rocked back and forth, holding my baby girl in my arms, thankful for her return, but dying a little inside at the cost.
This could not be happening. Not again. And this time, I was sure, I would not survive the loss. I loved Ryan, more than I'd loved any man in my life before. More than Rick. Rick's murder had damn near broken me. Ryan's sacrifice already had.
How would we survive this? How would we go on in a world where he didn't exist? He was my shield. He was the one person who kept me steady, gave me a rudder to sail straight through the storms. I couldn't do this without him. I just couldn't. No. This was a million times worse than that night. This was the end of my world.
"Marie, babe," Ryan said, making me blink my eyes and strain to see him. He was kneeling beside Andrews. I must have missed several seconds, because blood trickled down the side of his head, onto a pale white cheek. He was panting slightly, gritting his teeth as though in pain. Andrews had clocked him on the head, no doubt with the butt of the gun sitting in his hand. In the other hand the bastard held the ledger.
My hope and my salvation in the grip of this vile, evil man.
"Get in the car and drive away," Ryan said.
I shook my head.
"You can do it, Tiger," he encouraged. "For Daisy."
I sucked in a breath, held onto my daughter tighter, and found myself nodding my head.
"That's my brave girl," Ryan murmured.
"Ah, this is sweet," Andrews interrupted. "But you've got it all wrong."
My chin jerked up as a chill swept down my spine.
"Get behind me, Daisy," I whispered urgently, straightening my spine, holding the gaze of the devil before me.
I'd faced off against the devil before. That time he'd been in the body of Roan McLaren. This man here was no better or no worse. I stood to my feet, sheltering my daughter.
"When I say run, you run," I said under my breath. "And you don't look back. Understand, Daisy-girl."
"Wokay," came the shaky reply.
My eyes flicked to Ryan's, pride and love stared back at me.
"First the man you love," Andrews said, turning his gun on Ryan, muzzle to the back of his head. "Then your daughter. Then maybe you."
"Bastard," Ryan spat, receiving a whack on his head with the gun instead of a bullet. I cried out, Daisy started running, and a gunshot sounded out on the air.
Blood. So much blood. I'd seen blood spray like this before. I'd seen the world slow down to just a single heartbeat. Droplets of crimson suspended in the air. In amongst them... globules of redish-yellow, sharp shards of white coated in red.
Blood, brain and skull fragments spread out in a mesmerizing arc, but they didn't land on my chest, slip down the neck of my blouse. They didn't belong to my dead husband, like they had all those years ago.
And they didn't belong to the man who held my heart.
My shield. My rudder in the storm.
Ryan staggered to his feet, as Andrews flew backwards through the air, following the trajectory of the bullet that had just connected with his forehead. His gun arm swung wide, the pistol flying off towards the sea and landing with a soft whumpf! As his larger body shuddered the ground beneath it when it finally came to rest in the sand.
Ryan glanced at me, then glanced over my shoulder.
"Fuck me," he whispered, as I swung around to see.
Standing there, pale as Ryan had been, was Detective Harvey Stone holding a smoking gun in his right hand. He let it go, I watched as it tumbled to the ground, and then he sank to his knees and started crying. Big heaving, silent sobs from deep inside his chest.
"Hey," Ryan murmured. "It's OK, my man."
"I'm sorry," Harvey cried, the sobs somehow coming harder.
"I know," Ryan whispered. "I know."
His beautiful brown eyes lifted to look at me. There was no long conversation hidden in their melted depths. No back and forth to be had in just one look.
It was simple.
I loved him and he loved me. And we were free.
And there were no sweeter words unsaid in anyone's eyes ever before.
Epilogue
Two Months Later
Squeals of delight sounded out from the garden. The clatter of feet across the deck, followed by the low rumble of a male voice, then two high pitched giggles. My eyes flickered open and a smile stretched my lips. I could hear cupboard doors banging in the kitchen, the dinging of the fridge to indicate it had been open too long and was letting all the cold air out, and the clink of ice hitting glasses.
"Orange or raspberry?" Ryan asked.
Two little girl squeals of, "Red, red, red!"
"Red raspberry delight, for two pretty princesses, coming right up," he declared, receiving a chorus of further giggles.
I glanced around the lounge where I was having an afternoon nap on the couch. Several frozen eyed stares from dropped dolls met my eyes. Sparkly clothing, brightly coloured hair-clips, brushes, plastic doll's shoes, and various other necessary paraphernalia for a doll dress-up session spread out across the lounge room floor.
It had been like this since early this morning. And I hadn't picked up a single item.
My eyes flicked from one carelessly discarded toy to another, noting the way some tangled together, and how others lay at odd angles from the next, and the doll's dresses were mixed up with the doll's hats, and had absolutely no order to their arrangement at all.
And how I didn't even care.
I wasn't cured of my OCD, not by a long shot. Orange smelling disinfectant ruled in the kitchen from time to time. I had six pairs of different coloured rubber gloves. One for each room that needed cleaning, when the desire to do so arose. But I'd relaxed an awful lot from the 'old ways'.
Hell, Daisy even had cans of paint in every colour of the rainbow and I was discovering that getting water based colourants out of clothing wasn't nearly as big a deal as I'd previously thought.
Two months with Ryan Pierce in my life and things I'd thought essential didn't even register anymore. I was too busy enjoying life, being loved, having a family.
I sat up slowly and ran one finger over the delicate locket at my neck. Inside was a small photo of all three of us; me, Daisy and Ryan. As well as the note he'd written, and Ben had handed to me, before we visited the Birdcage Police Bar. I'd nearly forgotten all about it afterwards - what with the frightful things that transpired - but luckily cleared my pockets out before I threw my jeans in the wash. Ryan found me reading it in the laundr
y and stood silently at the door... watching. He presented me with the beautiful platinum and sapphire butterfly inlaid locket the next day; the photo, one Abi had taken earlier, nestled within. The note has sat inside ever since.
I didn't need to pull it out now to remember what he had written, I'd committed the words to memory that very first day.
Marie,
There are no rules I wouldn't break to get to you.
Ryan.
Some things are worth fighting for. Some things stand outside of man-made law.
"Now, I know you would prefer orange, Tiger," Ryan said, interrupting my musings as he walked in the door, two tall glasses of orange juice in his hand.
I smiled up at him, then forgot completely the words that had been on my lips seconds before. He was wearing faded denim jeans and a form fitting pale blue t-shirt, that moulded to his body like a second skin. I knew the trunks he wore were bright blue, with yellow stars scattered across them. I knew exactly how they hugged his very fine arse and left me breathless when he drew them on this morning.
I knew they hadn't lasted long that first time, only a matter of seconds after he'd pulled them over his hips before they were tugged back down and my greedy mouth paid homage to the bulge that had tempted me from the outset.
Ryan hadn't objected, in fact he'd enthusiastically allowed me my distracted moment, then promptly followed that up with a greedy session for his mouth as well.
It had only been the doorbell and Daisy's fervent cries of, "She's here! She's here!" coming from the front of the house that had reminded us that there were other people outside of our locked bedroom door.
The lock was new. Ryan's holiday home hadn't had one on the master bedroom before. But a few close calls and Ryan's insistence that he needed to be able to touch me - naked skin to naked skin - without fear of being caught when in our own room, meant he'd installed a lock on the door two days after we moved in. Every window in the house had received an upgrade at the same time. Electronic sensors, deadbolts; an ASI special.
We'd been here full-time two weeks now. But Ryan had been in our lives every single night since Simon Andrews' death. At first we'd visited his mother's house as therapy for Daisy. That night was on repeat in my baby's head. But like most five year olds, new memories quickly overshadowed the bad. Ryan and I made sure that she collected seashells down on the beach at Okoromai Bay, that those seashells decorated her bedroom walls, here at the holiday house, which was now our home. He hung a swing seat in the backyard from a gnarled old Pohutukawa Tree, where she would often pass half an hour just staring at the gulls flying and swinging her feet. Next to it, on a higher branch, sat her hand painted birdhouse from Abi and Ben.
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