by Tiffany Snow
In seconds, we were out the door and rain immediately soaked me, which was a good thing because it woke me from the stupor I’d been in.
I thought hard and fast. Devon couldn’t come. Maybe he was hurt. And now I saw I was being taken to an SUV. I was flung inside and I played unconscious. As soon as he slammed the door shut, I was up and over to the other side. Luck was with me and the door opened easily. I began to run.
“Sonofabitch,” the man cursed. “Grab her!”
I hadn’t seen them, but there were two more men outside, taking cover from the house behind my grandpa’s field truck. Both of them began to run after me. I heard another gunshot and saw a flash from an upstairs window. Logan. One of the men following me fell and didn’t get up.
The rain had turned the gravel driveway into a pebbly river, the grass into a field of mud. But I knew this farm like the back of my hand. The driver was chasing me now, too, but I kept going.
Rain filled my eyes and I brushed my hair out of the way so I could see. It was pitch black and I ran through the yard to where the cornfields began, hoping I could lose them inside the rows of stalks. I heard a gunshot, muffled in the pounding rain, and a split second later a searing pain pierced my leg. I’d been hit and it made me fall just as I entered the cornfield. I cried out, my hand going to my leg, but it wasn’t a bad wound, having just nicked me, so I stumbled to my feet. They were closer, just yards away, and I dove into the stalks.
Mud coated my body from my fall and I slipped and slid my way through the field. Rushing through the rows, I turned, ran down between the lines of stalks, then made an abrupt right turn, ran twenty feet forward, then turned left. I slipped and fell two more times, tears mixing with water on my face as the pain in my leg made putting weight on it more and more difficult. Finally, I was limping and had to stop, my lungs heaving. I waited, listening for them, but heard nothing besides the pounding rain and thunder.
Lightning split the sky, another clap of thunder close on its heels, and I could see just for an instant.
Clive.
He was only feet from me, and he’d seen me.
I threw myself to my left as he lunged, pushing through the corn. The heavy, wet stalks clung to me as I ran through, like dead hands grabbing on to me. I didn’t think about the pain in my leg—I just ran the best I could, limping with a weird gait.
I clutched at the wound in my thigh, feeling the heat of blood against the chilling cold of the rain-soaked denim. I lost track of time as my head started to get fuzzy. Growing dizzy, I knew I’d have to stop soon, but if I could just go a little bit farther . . .
The ground suddenly dropped beneath me and I fell hard. I scrabbled at the dirt, realizing I’d hit the embankment for the creek that ran through Grandpa’s property. In the dark, I hadn’t realized I’d been so close.
It was steep and I clawed at the ground, digging my hands into the mud. I halted my downward descent, feeling the squish of the rain-soaked earth between my fingers and underneath my nails. I could hear the sound of the water rushing, the creek swollen from the rain.
“Gotcha.”
I cried out as Clive fisted a chunk of my hair and yanked. He was braced above me on the side, careful not to get too close to the edge.
“Climb out,” he ordered. “If I have to come down there, you’ll regret it.”
My hair was slick with water and I jerked out of his grasp, the strands sliding free. I let go of the ground and slid down another foot. The water was only a couple of yards away. If I got caught up in the current in the dark, though it wasn’t very deep, I could easily drown.
Clive ground out a curse. He grabbed on to a tree branch, using it to anchor himself as he stepped over the edge onto the mud-slickened slope. His arms were long and he grabbed for me again, this time latching on to my wrist and tugging.
“You are going to pay for this, you little bitch,” he snarled.
There was a sudden loud bang and his hold on my wrist slackened. I blinked the rain out of my eyes as he toppled forward. Water splashed when he hit the creek.
Struggling to my feet, I fought the branches tearing at me. I had to get up the hill, but my body wouldn’t obey. After only one step, my leg gave out and I collapsed on the ground with a grunt, the mud sucking at my hands and face.
On all fours, I tried to crawl up the slope. My leg had gone numb and I thought I was probably in shock, which I was glad of.
I didn’t make it far. My arms were shaking with exhaustion and I was coated in mud. It was like the mud was a living thing, dragging me down with its weight until I was lying flat, unable to move an inch farther.
“Ivy!”
I heard my name and forced my body onto my back, my eyes slipping closed as the rain splattered against my face. Was that Devon? Or was this a trick? I couldn’t tell from the voice—the rain was too loud.
“Ivy! Where are you?”
Again, I didn’t answer, though I could hear the voice getting closer. Who was it?
“Darling, answer me.”
My eyes popped open. Darling. Only one person had ever called me that.
“Here!” I called the best I could. My voice was mangled and hoarse. “I’m here. Please. Devon.”
I needed to get up. He couldn’t find me if I stayed lying on the ground. But my exhausted body wouldn’t obey.
A figure loomed over me in the darkness, and I let out a sharp scream.
“Shh, darling. You’re all right,” Devon said, crouching down beside me. Rain dripped down his face as he cast a practiced eye over me before sliding his arms behind my back and knees. Standing, he lifted me from the mud.
“Hang on,” he said, and I clung to his neck as he carried me through the back way into the house.
He brought me to my room then set me on the bed while he grabbed several towels.
Devon was soaked through, too, his hair dark and gleaming from the rain.
“What happened?” I asked.
“They sent two men in the back to distract me while the others came in the front for you,” he said curtly.
“Where’s Logan?” was my next question. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Just keeping watch on our prisoner.”
“Prisoner?”
“Clive didn’t arrive with the first group of men,” Devon explained. “He came separately in an instance of particularly bad timing. I want to know who they were. But first, we need to stop the bleeding in your leg and patch you up.” He reached for the fastening of my jeans, but I stopped him. I’d been the damsel in distress that had needed rescuing again, and my pride was hurting.
“I’ll do it,” I said, pushing his hands away. “Just help me into the bathroom.”
“Don’t be silly, darling,” he said. “You’re hurt and have lost blood. If I stand you up, you’re likely to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, pushing myself to a sitting position. The mud was starting to dry in places; it cracked when I moved. “I’m a mess. Just help me to the bath and I’ll be okay.” Not winning this argument wasn’t an option. I was too vulnerable in a way that made me feel like I was exactly how people saw me—weak. Devon said he didn’t see me that way, and I couldn’t let that change.
To my relief, he stopped trying to take my clothes off and helped me the ten feet to the bathroom. But when he tried to come inside with me, I stopped him.
“I’ll take it from here,” I said.
Devon stared at me for a moment, his face going blank. “Is this my punishment for allowing you to be hurt?” he asked. “I’m not allowed to care for you because I didn’t protect you?”
“Devon, that’s not—” I began.
“Perhaps I should send Logan in to assist you,” he cut me off. He smiled at me, but it was a humorless twist of his lips that was edged in bitterness. Then he was out the door and gone.
I bit back the stream of curses I wanted to let loose, starting with a rampage against him and his guilt. An emotional, guilt-ridden Devon was something I hadn�
�t encountered before.
Shoving my frustration and confusion aside, I carefully stripped off my clothes while the water ran hot in the shower. Stepping under the spray, I nearly passed out again when the water hit my wounded thigh, but I made myself stand there, gritting my teeth.
It took a while and I had to sit on the edge of the tub a few times when I got lightheaded, but eventually, I was clean.
“Ives, you okay?” I heard the question and the knock at the door before it was pushed open.
“Yeah, I’m all right,” I said, turning off the water. “Hand me a towel, would you?”
It was still storming outside, the rain pattering against the window, but the thunder and lightning had passed.
Logan passed me a towel and I wrapped it around me. My thigh had stopped bleeding and it wasn’t a gunshot wound per se, but the bullet had skimmed my leg, taking a few layers of skin with it. It hurt like hell.
“Let me help you,” Logan said as I pushed back the shower curtain. He didn’t wait for me to agree, just wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me out of the tub.
“What are you doing up here?” I asked. “I thought you were guarding one of the men.”
“I was,” he said. “But then Devon decided to interrogate him. I watched for a while, then . . . I . . . um . . .” He glanced away from me.
I waited. “Then what?”
His gaze met mine. “Devon’s interrogation methods aren’t for the faint of heart, Ives.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he put a fucking sheet on the tile underneath the guy’s chair,” Logan said. “So cleaning up would be easier.”
I stared wide-eyed at Logan, who seemed to have regretted his bluntness. He looked away again as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s not talk about it,” he said. “You need a bandage on that.”
He helped me hobble out of the bathroom and cleared away the ruined towels on my bed. I sat with a sigh. After grabbing the medicine kit he’d brought up, Logan returned and dumped out some antiseptic cream and bandages. I lay on my side and hiked up the towel enough for him to see the wound. Frowning, he set about putting on the medicine and a bandage.
A loud yell from downstairs made us both start in surprise. Instinctively looking at the door, neither of us spoke for a moment.
“Should we do something?” I asked, swallowing hard.
“Probably not,” Logan replied. “If we did, who knows what Devon would do in turn? And while I don’t want to watch, I’m not particularly attached to the guys who tried to kill us.”
There was another yell, which was abruptly cut off.
After he’d bandaged me, Logan went to my suitcase and took out some clothes. “Here,” he said, handing me a T-shirt and pair of shorts. I hurriedly pulled them on, carefully easing the shorts over the wound in my thigh.
“I want to see what’s going on downstairs,” I said, heading out the door. Logan grabbed my arm, halting me.
“Ivy, don’t,” he said.
“I’d think you’d want me to see,” I countered, raising an eyebrow. “Or don’t you think I should know what kind of man Devon is?”
Logan didn’t reply to that, and I could see the indecision in his eyes. “Fine,” he relented, releasing me. “You’re right. You should know who you’re sleeping with.”
I walked down the stairs, pausing on the landing at the bottom. I could hear the man grunting and I took a deep breath.
“I would tell me what I want to know, if I were you,” Devon said calmly. “My patience isn’t going to last much longer.”
Easing my head around the corner, I peeked into the kitchen. I couldn’t see the man where he sat in a chair. His body was obscured by Devon, who stood in front of him. What I could see was the blood on the sheet protecting the floor.
“I don’t know anyone named Clive,” he spat. “We weren’t hired by him.”
“Then who hired you?”
“Orders came through London,” the man said. He was gasping, as though in pain. “Come here. Get the girl alive, use any force necessary. Take her back.”
My blood chilled at this. Someone had sent these men to take me away. If Devon hadn’t been there, I’d be gone.
“Where were you supposed to take her once you got to London?”
“I don’t know.”
Devon did something—I couldn’t see what—and the guy howled in pain.
“A woman! It was a woman, but I don’t know her name. I swear!”
“You’ve been exceedingly helpful,” Devon said. He got to his feet and now I could see the man. I covered my mouth with my hand at the sight of him.
It was the guy who’d grabbed me from the start. Blood dripped from his face as he cradled his hand. His sleeve was soaked red. I could barely recognize his face; it was swollen and matted with blood.
“So now what?” the man asked. “You going to let me go?”
“Please,” Devon said. “You know how these things work. And . . . you hit my lady. I don’t practice forgiveness, mate.”
Before the man could utter another word, Devon raised his hand and fired his gun point-blank at the man’s forehead. A hole erupted between his eyes and blood oozed. The back of his head had exploded from the exit wound. It seemed Devon had thought of that, too, because he’d turned him in such a way that not a drop of blood or brain matter had gotten anywhere except the sheet.
“Yeah, that’s quite a guy, Ives,” Logan hissed in my ear.
I ignored him. My mind was too busy processing what I’d seen. Devon, once again killing someone in cold blood. It had been easy to forget this side of him—a remorseless killer who didn’t bat an eye at the death sentences he handed out.
“I’d give you a hand cleaning up, but I don’t want to,” Logan sneered at Devon as he stepped past me into the hallway. “You can bury your own bodies.”
“These same men were trying to kill you,” Devon said, not glancing at Logan as he pushed the dead body onto the floor and moved the chair out of the way. Absently, I noticed it was my grandpa’s chair from the head of the table. “Perhaps you might consider not acting like a child who hasn’t gotten their way and instead behave like the grown man you’re supposed to be.”
The chastisement made Logan’s face flush and he didn’t reply.
“Now grab his feet,” Devon ordered. He’d wrapped the body in the stained sheet like a mummy and grasped the shoulders.
Logan hesitated, then bent and lifted the feet. Together, they hauled him out the front door. In a moment, they were back and I came out from hiding. Devon glanced at me, his eyes raking me from wet head to bare toes.
“You’re just in time,” he said, and I realized he didn’t know I’d seen what had happened. “Logan’s going to help me dispose of the bodies, but we’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, suddenly apprehensive.
“I’ll drive the car into the woods and set it on fire. With all the rain, nothing nearby will catch, so it should be safe. Logan will follow me in the pickup, then drive us back.”
“I don’t want to be left alone,” I said. “I’ll come with you.”
Devon might have argued, but then he looked into my eyes and gave a wordless nod.
I climbed into the pickup with Logan and we followed the dark SUV out through an empty field toward the woods that bordered the creek. When the SUV slowed, we stopped, and Devon drove a bit farther. Logan and I sat in silence as Devon got out of the car and did something with the engine. He dropped the hood and began walking toward us. When he was ten feet away, the SUV exploded.
I jumped, the sound and sudden light scaring me. Devon opened the passenger door and I scooted to the middle of the seat to make room for him.
“Not so fast.” Logan leveled a gun at Devon, who froze. “This would be a perfect opportunity to dispose of you, too.”
I stared in disbelief at the gun Logan held. I’d never seen him threaten anyone before.
“What the
hell are you doing?” I squeaked in alarm. His arm was right in front of me as he pointed the weapon at Devon, but I was afraid to try to shove it aside. What if he pulled the trigger and Devon got hit?
“It’s for your own good, Ives,” Logan said. “This guy is a murderer and he’s going to get you killed, too. He won’t leave you alone. You won’t tell him to leave you alone, so it’s up to me.”
Devon stood motionless in the rain, the steady downpour having lightened somewhat.
“This is what you want to do?” he asked Logan. “Kill your best friend’s lover in cold blood? I can’t imagine that would be helpful to you in the long run.”
“Shut up,” Logan spat. “None of this would’ve happened if not for you.”
“Logan, please,” I said. “Put down the gun.” He sounded so angry.
“Now is the perfect time,” he said to me. “No one will come looking for him here.”
“You cannot do this,” I said to him. “Please. Put down the gun and let’s go back to the house. We’ll talk, just you and me.”
“I won’t sit by and watch you get killed because of a man who isn’t worth it.”
His anger wasn’t dissipating and I could see tears in his eyes as he stared in furious outrage at Devon. For his part, Devon seemed to be calculating, playing out in his mind the various scenarios of how this could go, and weighing his options. I didn’t think he really had any, not if he didn’t want to get shot, which motivated my actions.
“Logan,” I said, moving very slowly and deliberately forward. “You can’t do this. You won’t.”
He would have to bend his arm or he wouldn’t be targeting Devon any longer. I was counting on him not wanting to let Devon out of range, and I was right. He bent his arm, which was perfect. I slid right between the gun and Devon, turning so the weapon now rested against my chest, rather than pointing at Devon.
“Are you going to shoot me, too?” I asked softly.
Logan stared at me, his face creased in lines of pain that tore me from the inside out.
“I love you,” he said, the words barely audible.
I reached out and slid the gun from his unresisting grip, then handed it to Devon behind my back. I felt him take the weapon from me.