His eyes quickly took in the blade before his gaze switched back to me. “This knife is special,” he admitted. “It’s taken my own mother’s life, my wife’s life. This knife and I have history and you Ella, are about to join the prestigious list of pathetic women who have died at its sharp edge.” He shoved the gun into the back of his pants and grabbed my wrists, one of his large hands easily holding both of mine above my head as I attempted to buck him off me. “I’m going to cut you, then fuck you to death, quite a beautiful and fitting ending really.” He lifted the knife above me and I felt the blade cut into my flesh. Like before, the knife slicing into my wrist burned with pain and became a curious throb immediately. I awkwardly glanced above me and watched the bright red blood seep quickly into the snow, too quickly, too much blood. Marcus’s eyes were filled with manic excitement as he watched my face carefully. I fought the darkness and lethargy that was beginning to take over my body. Marcus pressed down against me, his sickly arousal pushed against my thigh. My mind raced with images of Jax finding me like he had found Sarah, wrists cut in a pool of blood. I sobbed at the thought and tears began to fall down my face. Marcus’s eyes glistened with excitement.
“I finally found a way to make you cry,” he murmured with disbelief.
“Nooooooooooo!” Jax’s roar was frightening enough to raise the dead as I heard him smash through the back door and out into the snow. The look of surprise in Marcus’s cold eyes made me smile. He reached back and grabbed for his gun, pointed and fired, just as my world fell into dark oblivion.
Chapter 39
Jax
When I received Ella’s voicemail I had literally dropped the box I was unloading and I ran for my pickup. Instinctively I knew something was up. When I got a hold of Braiden he had told me he’d been trying to get hold of Dillon for the last three hours and Marcus was AWOL, I knew right away that the shit had officially hit the fan. I quickly gave Braiden Frank’s number and told him to ring and explain the situation, I told him to call the national fucking guard if he wanted, but I needed backup, like yesterday. Arriving at my house which was still in darkness I grabbed the gun from under the seat of my Dodge. I started carrying it everywhere I went almost two weeks ago. The house was quiet and seemed empty and an unfamiliar voice from out back caught my attention as I crept silently to the kitchen and peered out the window. Seeing Marcus lying on top of Ella’s limp body in the back yard triggered a switch and without even thinking to open it, I smashed my way through the closed kitchen door that led outside. The stunned look on Marcus was pure ecstasy as I raised my gun and he fumbled for his. While still running through the snow I fired, no hesitation and I knew my weapon would find its target, I rarely missed and when it was Ella’s life on the line, I wouldn’t miss. I felt the bullet hit my shoulder, flesh wound. It stung like a bitch and burned but didn’t stop me as I continued to race towards Ella. When I reached her I pulled Marcus’s heavy limp body up by the jacket and simply threw him to the side. One shot right through the eye. The fucker was dead; he was as good as dead the first time he decided to lay his hands on my angel.
Ella was still as I sunk to my knees beside her. I ripped my shirt and quickly wrapped it around her wrist tightly and gathered her into my arms trying to instill some heat into her freezing body.
“Come on angel, open those pretty eyes,” I demanded. After a few moments they flickered open and I sighed loudly with relief.
“You scared the shit out of me baby.” She glanced at my face, then took in the blood that had seeped through my shirt from my shoulder. “It’s nothing, just a scratch.” I pushed the hair back from her face and noted the bruising. The fucker had hit her and I suddenly wanted to kill him all over again. There was movement from behind me and I swung around, clutching Ella to me with one arm while my other hand held my gun poised and ready to take down the new threat. My finger immediately withdrew from the trigger.
“Fuck Dillon, I nearly shot you,” I growled. He looked like shit. He was too pale as he collapsed to his knees beside me.
“Someone beat you to it,” he groaned.
“You gonna’ live soldier?” I demanded.
“Course Sarge,” he panted, knowing better than to give me any other answer.
“You’re hit,” he noted and I shook my head ignoring the irritating ache from my shoulder.
“Flesh wound.” Dillon checked Ella’s pulse.
“It’s weak.” He pulled off his jacket and I helped him wrap her in it. “Police?”
“On their way, you’ll hear sirens any minute,” I said gruffly. I heard Ella sigh then and I pulled her closer to my chest, kissing her forehead.
“I waited for sirens once,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving mine. “My dad was already dead on the kitchen floor while I waited for the sirens. When I heard them I thought they were the sound of angels, but it meant nothing, they couldn’t save him.” Her eyes were heavy and dull.
“Fuck that angel, you’re not going anywhere, I won’t allow it, so keep your damn eyes open.” Dillon chuckled from beside me, looking worse by the minute. “You too soldier. I still have to kick your ass for letting someone shoot you in the back.” The worshipful sound of sirens finally found my ears but I didn’t relax. Ella fought for consciousness in my arms and Dillon quietly tried to explain what had happened from beside me, his voice faint and weak.
He told me how not long after I had left he spotted someone out back. He took his gun to investigate and was surprised as fuck to find Tom Brennan out back, blubbering about how he never wanted to hurt Ella. How he knew it was wrong but Marcus knew he had taken bribes, so he was black mailing Tom to help keep Ella under his control. Dillon was so shocked to see Tom and hear his sniveling excuses that he missed Marcus coming up behind him. He barely got off a shot before taking one in the lower back, but his shot found a mark, like all good soldiers, right in the center of Tom Brennan’s cold heart.
When Frank finally arrived with backup and an ambulance he tried to call another stating there wasn’t enough room for all of us in one. Reluctantly I agreed to follow behind in Frank’s police car while Dillon and Ella rode in the ambulance. Ella’s eyes pleaded with me to stay close and it broke my heart, smashed it to pieces to see the fear in them and only when Dillon took her hand did she seem to settle a little. At the hospital we were separated briefly while I was stitched up, Dillon was taken away to surgery and Ella needed stitches and blood, she had lost too much. After a quick phone call to fill Mercy in and a lot of grumbling and bitching to a nurse who decided right there and then being a nurse wasn’t worth this shit, I finally found Ella. A doctor and two nurses hovered over her as I entered the room without even asking permission.
“Jax?” One of the nurses asked. She seemed familiar, but I could barely take my eyes off Ella long enough to put a name to her face.
“Is she okay?” I asked, my voice broken. The doctor nodded.
“It looks like she’s tried this before,” he nodded towards her wrists and it pissed me off.
“She didn’t do it. The fucker who did it is lying in my back yard with a bullet between his eyes.” The doctor went a little pale at my confession. “Frank Grier is outside, he can confirm everything.”
“She’s lost a lot of blood, but we are already replacing it, she’ll most likely need a couple of bags. Some bruising, but other than that she’ll be fine. She’s obviously a fighter it will take more than this to get her down.” I nodded and approached Ella’s side while the doctor quietly left the room with one of the nurses. The one that had called my name checked the drip that fed the precious blood back into Ella’s body.
“We went to school together,” the nurse said in a low and sympathetic voice. I finally dragged my eyes from Ella’s fragile beaten face to take in the woman standing before me.
“Dee Witherborn,” I whispered, finally noticing her. She smiled and nodded.
“Your friend will be fine, she just needs some rest. The loss of blood will make her weak.
” I nodded woodenly.
“She’s my angel. She needs her strength to kick my ass for not keeping her safe.” Dee smiled.
“Seems to me if you shot the man who did this to her you did your job. She’s here, she’s alive.” I ran a finger carefully down the side of Ella’s face that wasn’t bruised and Dee slipped out of the room. I laid my head down on the bed beside Ella, holding her hand I closed my eyes, trying not to see her pinned under Marcus’s body as he cut her wrist again. I shuddered and lifted my hand, placing it over her heart. Feeling the strong steady beat there helped me to relax. A small weak hand covered mine and I glanced up to see Ella staring at me. She looked so tired.
“Get some rest angel, I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s okay now.” She watched me carefully for a moment and moved her hand to my bandaged shoulder, the blood on my shirt revealing the evidence of my injury. I captured her hand and kissed it. “Another scar, nothing serious.” At that her eyes flickered to her heavily bandaged wrist.
“Me too,” she said as her eyes rested sadly on the latest addition to her scars. “Dillon?”
“He’s in surgery but he’ll be fine.” She nodded, her eyes closing.
“Thank you.” She had been quiet and still for so long I thought she was asleep.
“For what angel?”
“For saving me again.” I shook my head.
“I told you I would protect you, I promised you wouldn’t be hurt again.” My fingers brushed the bruises on her face.
“What happened to him?” She shivered and I somehow managed to fold my large body into the bed beside her, taking care not to jostle her about too much. I pulled her close and she rested her head into the crook of my arm.
“He’s dead. He’s gone from your life Ella, your free now baby.” Her hand settled over my heart and she seemed to gain just as much comfort from the steady beat as I did from hers. She took a long deep breath and slipped back into sleep.
Epilogue
Ella – 12 Months later
My feet were buried under warm soft sand as I sat with my sketch pad in my lap. The sun was like a blanket, wrapping itself around my body, warming me from the skin right down deep into my soul. My hand feathered the charcoal into soft shading around the hair line and neck of the face before me. The crashing ocean to my right caught my attention again. I found it hard to concentrate out here my eyes constantly drawn to the endless blue water.
“Finished yet?” Jax lazily yawned before me, stretched like a big lazy and very sexy god on his beach towel. He wore board shorts sitting low on his hips, his skin kissed with a warm bronze tan, his hair as usual too long and messy, but I loved it. His eyes were closed but his arm stretched out and easily found my leg, his large hand wrapping around my calf. I smiled at his touch.
“No, so stay still.” I demanded and he grinned that lazy chestire cat grin that turned my knees to jelly. I kept drawing, finding both security and reassurance in Jax’s innocent touch. I tried to be brave. I talked the talk, but didn’t really walk the walk, not yet. It still took Jax’s presence to make me feel completely safe, but it had only been twelve months. As Dave always reminded me time is the best healer and you can’t rush it. Jax’s physical injuries had healed within a couple of weeks, a small scar his only reminder. Dillon took longer. He needed surgery which kept him in the hospital for two weeks, followed by a few months of physiotherapy, but he was doing well now. Neither of the men seemed to show the mental scars that I struggled with. Jax didn’t like being away from me for too long though and rarely allowed me out of his sight when we were together, but otherwise he was the same ol’ cheeky, arrogant Jax Carter. Police investigations were carried out, the evidence that Dillon had accumulated was checked out and Marcus Fairmont was proved to be guilty of the crimes he was accused of. Not that it mattered, he was dead and I was finally safe. Tom Brennan was confirmed to be one very corrupt cop and again, it didn’t really matter because he was dead too. Dr. Theo was currently facing charges, too many to recall. He would do time in jail and never practice again. I faced my demons and went back to Duntson, visiting both my fathers and mothers graves. I sat at my father’s grave for a long time, talking to him, explaining that I was safe now, that I had found my guardian angel that he was in fact a warrior and he would forever protect me. I sat at my mother’s grave for a long time too, but didn’t really know what to say. Finally I told her that I forgave her and I was sorry for what happened to her. I could spend the rest of my life trying to hate her, filled with anger and unresolved disappointment, or I could let it go. Letting go was by far the easier option. Before heading back to Claymont I took Jax to meet Rita, BJ and Larry. Seeing them this time was different, I guess because for the first time in a long time I wasn’t filled with fear, I wasn’t running, I was living and loving my life.
My reward for being so brave and my Christmas present from Jax was a three week trip to Hawaii to finally see the ocean. He wasn’t a fan of the heat, or the sand, but he said he would endure it for me and apparently seeing me in a bikini wasn’t a hardship either. I thought of Mercy’s Shelter back in Claymont as I continued to work on my portrait under the Hawaiian sun. It was freezing back there and as of yesterday, Mercy’s was unfortunately a full house. Rebecca had closed Bouquets and moved to a new location. She had grizzled and moaned the entire three days it took to move her shop into the larger premises that would be big enough for my gallery, her flowers and a small café that Annie now managed. We called it Mercy’s Angels and it was doing well. I glanced at the silver cuff style bracelet around one of my wrists, a thick leather strap watch around my other. I was uncomfortable with the curious glances these scars drew so Jax had bought me the jewelry to cover them. As for the other scars on my arms, they didn’t bother me like they used to. They were really quite faint and difficult to distinguish. I think I was more scared of how I felt when I saw those scars then what other people thought of them.
“Taking too long angel,” growled Jax as he suddenly sat up. I smiled and put the sketch book down, crawling into his lap. His arms immediately encircled me and I melted into his embrace, enjoying the strength and warmth only his body could give me. “What were you drawing?” He wondered out loud, grabbing the sketch book. It wasn’t what he thought I was drawing. I had asked him to lie before me perfectly still while I did this portrait and it wasn’t because I was sketching him. I didn’t want him watching over my shoulder like he usually did when I sketched. While he had been quietly napping before me, I sketched the face of a girl. Long dark hair, parted down the middle and hanging like a fall of water over her shoulders, dark eyes, slightly slanted, full heart shaped lips, high cheek bones and a small scar by her right eye. She was pretty, no, she was beautiful.
“Looks like you finally got it right,” Jax murmured. As part of my ‘healing’, David had commissioned me to sketch a picture, a portrait, of myself. I had been attempting to do it for months without success. It was up to Jax to tell me if I had it right and so far I hadn’t even been close. The fear, darkness and sadness in all the previous drawings meant I had to keep on trying until Jax finally gave my sketch his approval. The admiring sparkle in his eyes told me I had finally gotten it right. For some reason, I finally saw myself this way, happy, peaceful, beautiful. He threw the book aside and pulled me down positioning me right on top of him. On the beach, under the sun, in this man’s arms I finally felt reborn. I finally felt like the woman I was meant to be. Marcus Fairmont may have stolen a portion of my life, he may have marked my skin, but he didn’t defeat me, he hadn’t taken my heart and soul.
“Such a beautiful angel,” Jax whispered. I kissed his lips gently and gazed down into those steel gray eyes and for the first time I didn’t marvel about how this man could possibly love me. I simply accepted that he did. As my forehead rested against his, our lips only but a breath apart, I whispered the words that would forever rest in my heart.
“I love you Jaxon James Carter, thank you for saving me.”
&n
bsp; The end
“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life.”
Fighting Back
Mercy’s Angels Book Two
Kirsty Dallas
Chapter 1
Rebecca
Have you ever had one of those moments where you look up, open your eyes and wonder, what the fuck am I doing? Like you’ve been under some sort of hypnosis and someone finally snapped their fingers and you woke up? I hope I haven’t been clucking like a chicken or imitating an orgasm in my hypnotic state. I feel dazed and bewildered. How the hell did I get here, to this moment? It’s like one second I was moving forward, albeit slowly, and the next minute—BAM!—I’m on the floor, down for the count. I can’t really say it happened suddenly, not if I’m being truthful about this moment of rousing clarity. No, I’m just surprised reality took as long as it did to finally bitch slap me—it’s been a long time coming. Perhaps weeks, if not months of wallowing in self-pity has led to this moment of lucidity. This is not me, this is not who I am. I’ve always been independent, driven and confident. Lately I’ve been feeling needy, dispirited and apprehensive. Even after my parents died when I was nine, I handled it with as much grace and dignity a nine year old could muster. Of course I grieved, I cried enough tears to end droughts in several countries and then some. Then I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and moved forward. I even picked up my little sister Emily and dusted her off. She moved forward, but in a different way, like full throttle, faster than the speed of light and all that bullshit. Emily didn’t just move, she flew, straight out of Claymont as soon as she turned sixteen, not long after Grandma died. I, on the other hand, moved at a slow leisurely pace, enjoying the sights and held firm to the only remaining relic of my family heritage: my grandma’s house. I laughed, I thrived and I didn’t care what other people thought of me. I lived! Hell yeah, I am Rebecca Fucking Donovan, hear me roar! Well, at least I thought I was. My roar now sounded like something a kitten would make.
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