Wicked Ever After

by Shayla Black

  “She won’t,” Brea argued.

  “Shut up!” Clara said as she covered her mouth with a sweaty palm. “Will you surrender or watch your woman and child die before your eyes?”

  Pierce dragged in a deep breath, shook his head in regret, then met Clara’s gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

  That was it? He was giving up? Sacrificing his life for hers? Pierce had felled enemy combatants and torn through armies, and he was going to simply let this unhinged woman put a bullet in his brain?

  Brea struggled and squealed—to no avail.

  “Toss your gun over there.” Clara pointed toward the swampy darkness, away from the warehouse. “Far away.”

  Pierce didn’t hesitate, just chucked it into the abyss. “Now what?”

  “That pole over there. I prepared it for you.” Clara gestured with a bob of her head. “Go. There are handcuffs on the ground. Put your arms around the pole and cuff yourself to it.”

  No matter how she screeched or struggled, Pierce did exactly as he was told, and the click of the handcuffs as he doomed himself to death was a stab to her heart.

  Horror swept through her. It couldn’t end this way. She would not let it, damn it.

  She tried to catch Pierce’s gaze, but he seemed to look right through her. “Now let her go.”

  Clara released her hair and removed the gun from her temple, then gave her a shove that almost sent her stumbling to her knees. “Leave.”

  Hell no. Somehow, someway, she was going to get them out of this. “Let me at least say goodbye.”

  If she could get close to Pierce, maybe they could devise something…

  “I did not have the chance to say goodbye to my brother,” Clara quipped.

  Brea didn’t point out that she hadn’t been having Emilo’s baby because it wouldn’t work. She needed an appeal to Clara’s heartstrings that she could grasp. “And doesn’t that feel cruel to you? I’ve done nothing to you, so why hurt me even more when you’re already taking the person I love most in this world?”

  Tears fell down her cheeks, and Brea hoped they would move Clara to give her at least a few precious seconds.

  The woman let out a noisy sigh. “Fine. One minute. Then you will leave. And look on the bright side. Walker is already dressed for his funeral.”

  Brea shook as she ran across the property toward Pierce and wrapped her arms around him. The moment felt so surreal. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t how their future should end.

  “Why are you letting her win?”

  “Because nothing is more important to me than you. Matt and a guy named Trevor are both on their way, but they won’t get here in time.”

  “Then I’ll stop her,” she whispered so softly only he could hear. “Tell me what to do.”

  “To save me?” He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but his black eyes pleaded. “Don’t. Save you. Save our son.”

  “Please don’t give up.” Her voice cracked. “Please.”

  “Turn around and walk away. My end won’t hurt, and you’ll be fine. Go.”

  “No.” She wasn’t usually obstinate, but now? This moment? Brea was digging in her heels and not giving up. “Help me get you free or I’ll stand between you and her bullet.”

  Pierce glared. “This isn’t the time for you to get stubborn.”

  “I think it’s the perfect time.”

  “What is the problem?” Clara called across the twenty feet separating them. “If you are not going to kiss and say your tearful goodbyes, then I would like to shoot him now. I have been waiting for days.”

  “Not yet,” Brea pleaded.

  Clara’s face went cold. “Kiss him and leave.”

  She had to come up with some excuse…

  “I have no way to do that. I don’t know where I am. I have no car…” Brea gave Clara a shrug. “I’m sure he has keys in his pocket. Can I get them?”

  “Hurry up.”

  “What are you doing?” he growled.

  “Saving your ass.” Brea breathed heavily and caught his gaze. “Where are your keys?”

  “Front right pocket.”

  Brea rounded his body and, with shaking hands, withdrew the fob, then shot him a desperate glance. “Keep her talking. Buy yourself two minutes and I think I can get us forever.”

  “I won’t risk you.”

  The baby chose that moment to kick, and she rounded the pole with tears in her eyes and pressed her belly against his hand. “Do you feel that?”

  A moment later, the baby kicked again. Pierce’s eyes widened. He stared at her with wonder. “That’s our son.”

  “Yes. He’s worth fighting for. I don’t want to live without you. I love you. We need you.”

  She pressed herself against his side again and stood on her tiptoes as he leaned down to kiss her, then drink the tears from her cheeks.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  But that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind.

  “Help me to help us. Please. Don’t give up.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Brea felt his subtle nod. Then he whispered against her temple, “Glock behind my seat. No safety. A lot of recoil.”

  “I won’t let you down,” she promised.

  “You never could.”

  “That’s enough!” Clara screamed. “You have the keys. Walk away and don’t stop. If you do, you’ll be next.”

  Even though she and Pierce had a plan, she was loath to leave him. What if Clara refused to be drawn into conversation? What if, the second Brea ran for the Jeep, the crazy woman pulled the trigger? What if she made it back in time…but missed? She’d only get one chance to save Pierce. Clara wouldn’t be stupid enough to allow her a second.

  Brea stood on her tiptoes and kissed Pierce for what she prayed wouldn’t be the final time. “No matter what, I love you. I didn’t know who I was or what I was supposed to do with my life until I met you.”

  “Same, pretty girl,” he whispered. “Do your best, and if it doesn’t work—”

  “Shh. I’ll make it work. You taught me to be strong and stand up for what I want. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  Brea pressed her lips to his, then cuddled to him as close as she could, feeling the quick but steady beat of his heart. Then she raised her head, stepped away, and set off to save her man.

  “Are you finally leaving?” Clara snapped.

  Brea held up Pierce’s keys with a nod. “I’ll be gone in two minutes.”

  “Good riddance.” As she walked away, Clara went on. “Look, Walker. Your woman is leaving you to die. You will depart this earth knowing you are nothing to her.” The woman laughed. “No one deserves it more.”

  As soon as Brea left the circle of the light, she ran. Her pulse throbbed and adrenaline ripped fire through her veins. She wasn’t exactly sure where Pierce had parked his Jeep, but it couldn’t be far, probably near the road.

  Dragging her phone from her pocket, she turned on the flashlight. The Jeep sat dark and silent a few feet away. Brea dashed to it, yanking the back door open and fumbling around in the pocket behind the driver’s seat.

  Her fingers found the cool metal of the Glock, and she wrenched it free. Then she darted back for the repair shop, crouched and on her tiptoes. Brea hadn’t heard anything that sounded like a gunshot yet, and she counted her blessings, even as she counted the seconds. Pierce was clever enough to keep her talking…but Clara craved blood now.

  When Brea reached the edge of the light, she found Pierce standing taut with his arms around the wide pole, wrists still cuffed. Clara hissed something in his ear. He merely shook his head once, but didn’t acknowledge her in any other way. If he knew Brea was back to save him, she saw no indication of that.

  Clara stomped her feet, her face red with fury. “You killed him! Say you’re sorry.”

  Pierce pressed his lips together mutely, refusing to say a word.

  The woman shoved the gun against his head. “Say you’re sorry. Now!”

&nb
sp; “You want me to lie?”

  Brea’s eyes widened. Was he crazy?

  With trembling hands, she raised the gun and aimed at Clara, then she hesitated. She’d only had a few weeks’ practice with a firearm. She’d never shot this gun. Fear coursed through her veins. Her hands shook. What if she missed? What if she hit Pierce instead?

  Clara screeched in rage. The sound gave Brea goose bumps. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, nearly drowning out everything else.

  “Say. You are. Sorry,” the woman demanded. “Or I will kill you where you stand.”

  “You’re going to anyway.”

  “I hate you!” Her voice got higher; her hand shook more erratically. “You killed my only brother. The only person who loved me and took care of me.”

  Her finger curled around the trigger. Pierce didn’t respond at all.

  Clara bared her teeth. “I want you to die.”

  She meant that.

  Brea’s heart leapt to her throat. She’d never thought she could willfully kill anyone, no matter the circumstance. The good girl in her who loved family, God, and all His living things had never imagined that she would intentionally snuff out anyone. But in that moment, she realized she fucking would. Yes, she might hit Pierce, but if she didn’t try, he would die. It was that simple.

  She swallowed, sent a quick prayer up, then aimed. Her heart beat so fast now it inhibited her breathing and threatened to choke her. Her palms sweated. Her entire body trembled. But she focused on everything she’d learned and took a deep breath.

  Then she pulled the trigger.

  The recoil nearly sent her tumbling back. An instant later, Clara jolted and glanced down at the red stain blooming from her left shoulder. Then she started searching beyond the circle of light. “Bitch! I will definitely kill your man now.”

  No, she wouldn’t.

  Brea risked creeping a few steps closer as Clara made her way back to Pierce. She held her breath, dredged up her courage, and fired again. This time she was prepared for the kickback and managed to stay steadier on her feet.

  A second scream ripped through the air, this one filled with pain. Clara looked down at the stain forming on her yellow sweater two inches closer to her heart. Blood drained from her face. She stumbled back. “No.”

  Brea tried to stay strong. She didn’t speak; it would give away her hiding spot in the shadows. She didn’t argue her perspective; Clara had already made up her mind. She simply waited to see what the woman would do—fight to the death or surrender. She prayed for the latter.

  “No,” Clara repeated, her voice sounding more like a gurgle. “He dies before me.”

  Despite weaving unsteadily, she raised her weapon in Pierce’s direction. Brea tried to fire first, but Clara’s shot resounded in the air a split second sooner. Thankfully, she missed.

  Brea didn’t.

  The third bullet lodged in the middle of Clara’s chest. She stumbled, then crumpled to the ground, prone and unmoving.

  “Pierce!” Brea cried out as she ran across the yard toward him. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Check her first,” he barked.

  Brea wanted to touch him more than anything, but the urgency in his voice reached through her trembling relief. “For what?”

  “Kick the gun out of her hand, then see if she’s breathing.”

  Brea did. No heartbeat. No exhalations. “I-I think she’s dead.”

  Oh, God. She’d killed someone?

  Behind her, someone clapped. She whirled to find Matt walking toward her. “I just caught the end of that. You did good, little thing.”

  “Did I?” Now that it was over, she felt overwhelmed and dizzy. She felt like throwing up.

  Yes, she had killed someone. She had aimed a gun and pulled the trigger on another human being. It was horrible. The shock. The guilt. She wanted to cry.

  But what would have happened if she hadn’t?

  “Catch her,” Pierce shouted.

  Brea heard his voice as if through a narrowing tunnel. The edges of her vision went black. She fell back.

  Matt was right there to swing her up in his arms. “You’re okay.”

  “I don’t feel so good. And Pierce…”

  “Take some deep breaths. He’s fine. Let’s go cut him loose.”

  “Got it,” said another voice.

  Matt whirled, and Brea caught sight of a tall man with a blond crew cut and a badass vibe.

  “I’m Trevor,” the newcomer said with a friendly head bob as he tucked away the gun in his hand. “You must be Walker’s girl.”

  She nodded. “B-Brea.”

  “I’m Matt. Got a handcuff key?”

  He nodded. “On it.”

  Brea gripped Matt’s shirt as her head cleared. Her body shook as the adrenaline began to bleed from her veins, but she needed to get to Pierce now that she wasn’t going to faint. At least she didn’t think so. “You can put me down.”

  “You sure?” Matt raised a brow at her.

  She squirmed. “I need Pierce.”

  “And he needs you.” Matt set her on her feet, not letting go until she proved she was steady. “He’s a lucky bastard.”

  There was someone out there for Matt, but Brea swallowed back the sentiment. Her first priority was to reach the man she loved.

  As she strove to keep her balance, Trevor unlocked the handcuffs. They fell away. Pierce was free.

  He didn’t spare his friend even a glance. That black stare of his locked onto her, and he sprinted across the space separating them. Brea picked up her pace, too, willing her dizziness away. Her one and only thought was to reach him, touch him, be held by him.

  Forever.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she launched herself at him. Pierce caught her and held her tighter than he ever had.

  Relief hit her like a two-by-four. Her legs gave out. Sobs took over.

  “Shh.” He pushed her hair from her face and searched her as if he couldn’t look his fill. “You okay, baby?”

  She nodded, but her tears kept falling.

  Pierce was there to comfort her. “The first time you take a life is hard. I’m so sorry…”

  Brea shook her head. She would recover from having to end Clara. She would never have survived if Pierce hadn’t. “I’m just grateful we’re both alive. I’m grateful you’re all right and still with me and—”

  “Always, pretty girl. From now until you take your last breath, I will always be with you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  One-Mile rubbed his sweaty hands together, swallowed, then lifted his fist and did one of the most terrifying things in his life.

  He knocked on Preacher Bell’s quaint blue front door.

  If this didn’t go well, he was fucked.

  Interminable moments passed before he heard footsteps across the hardwood floor, then the door swung open. The preacher stood expectantly with a blank expression. He was just shy of medium height and medium build with kind eyes and a guarded smile. One-Mile felt as if he eclipsed the man.

  “Yes?”

  This was it. Now or never. Make or break.

  Time to find your manners, asshole. You remember those?

  Blowing out a breath, he stuck out his hand. “Hi, sir. We haven’t met yet, which is a mistake I’m here to rectify. Pierce Walker.”

  The instant he spoke his name, the preacher’s face closed up. The man eyed him from the collar of his leather jacket to the tattoos peeking above the buttons of his shirt and down to the hard tips of his combat boots.

  Fuck. The suit that had gotten ruined last night would have gone over far better.

  Reverend Bell gave his hand a cautious shake. “It’s good you came. This face-to-face is long overdue.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Since Brea is on her way home with her car—”

  “I know where my daughter is. I didn’t last night, however,” the man reminded sharply, arms crossed over his casual gray V-neck sweater.

  And he was squarely to blame
for that.

  Yeah, this wasn’t going to go well.

  One-Mile nodded, doing his best not to let the preacher’s hostility unnerve him. After spending most of the night panicking about his daughter’s safety, he was entitled to be rattled. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry about that. But I’d like to talk through a few things before she arrives. Man to man.”

  The reverend considered him, then finally stepped aside with a nod. “Come in. I won’t pretend to be excited that you’re a part of my daughter’s life. You stripped her innocence, used her, disgraced her, left her, put her in danger—”

  “None of that was my intention, and I intend to take care of her from here.”

  Brea’s father scowled and waved him onto the sofa in the homey living room. As One-Mile sat, the preacher lowered himself into an easy chair a few feet away, then cocked his head. “I’m willing to concede there are two sides to every story. I only know bits and pieces. If you think I’ve got it wrong, tell me yours.”

  “Both Brea and I will basically tell you the same story. We met and—”

  “I doubt it’s the same. She’s in love with you.”

  Did her father think he wasn’t mad about Brea in return? “I’m in love with her more.”

  That seemed to take Preacher Bell aback. “Then clearly, I don’t understand what’s happening. But I know what’s troubling me. In today’s day and age, things like tradition, marriage, and the family unit seem old-fashioned and unimportant to many—”

  “Not to me. I want those things.” He just needed a chance to prove that he could make Brea happy.

  “I’m glad to hear that. I grew up in a house filled with faith, love, and constancy. I tried to give Brea the same after her mother passed away. She deserves that in the future.”

  “She does. You did an amazing job, sir. I love everything about her, especially her enormous heart. I’ve never known anyone as kind and compassionate.”

  The man’s mouth twisted. “She was always that way—until she met you. Now she’s secretive and willful and—”

  “No, she’s private. And with all due respect, she’s not willful; she’s an adult who shouldn’t need your permission to live her life. She’s become so self-aware and strong. After last night, I know she’ll fight when she has to.”