by Police
For her.
"It's not even that cold outside, and you're chopping firewood?" Ashleigh puts her hands on her hips and watches me with a frown as I swing an ax to split the piece of wood.
I pull out the ax from the chopping block and grin at her. "What? I thought you would enjoy sitting by the warm fire. Cuddling? Isn't that what you read to me in your book last night?"
Ashleigh rolls her eyes. "I should have never told you about that." We were lying in bed last night when she told me about a hot scene where the romantic couple in her sexy erotic book put a fire on and pulled down a mattress in front of it before they had one crazy night of sex.
Before I made love to her, Ashleigh said that she wished something like that would happen to her.
And I'm in the business of both keeping her safe and making her wildest dreams come true.
I put another block of wood on the stump. "I'm glad you did." I make sure to flex my biceps as I heft the ax again. "It gives me a chance to show off for you. And I'm just trying to recreate that for you."
The nights are in the forties at night, so the fire won't be entirely necessary, but I think it would add a nice bit of atmosphere to what I have planned for her tonight. After Wayne and Magda left, I still haven't figured out a way to appease Gary's demands.
Frustration gave way to me needing to expend my energy somehow. And that's what gave me the idea for chopping up firewood. There's nothing like splitting wood to get rid of some anger.
Ashleigh shifts her weight to one foot, and she raises an appreciative eyebrow. "Well, you do look hot."
I snort. "Of course I do. I'm fucking Callum Young."
She leans into me, a delighted grin on her lips. "No, I'm fucking Callum Young." She winks, but there's heat in her eyes as she regards me.
"And what do you think of that?" I ask her.
"I think that I want another round of it."
I cup her chin, bring her lips to mine, and kiss her soundly. "After I cut enough wood and pull down the mattress. Because I'm romantic and will treat you right."
"You do," she murmurs softly. She straightens and plucks at the flannel shirt she's wearing. "Okay, fine. I'll go get us some water or something. You're sweating a lot."
I wipe at my face with the bottom of my shirt. "Kind of defeats the purpose of a fire then, huh?"
She laughs. "No, it doesn’t."
She turns away and goes back to the cabin, and sways her hips as she moves like she wants me to see it. And I do, watching her leave and appreciating the view as she walks to the cabin.
An ass like that needs to be appreciated.
I pick up another piece of wood and split it. And then another. And another. And it's on my fourth piece of wood that I'm splitting that I realize that Ashleigh hasn't come out again. My warning alarms go off. Because something isn't right.
Maybe she went to the bathroom. Perhaps she's getting gussied up for later.
Or maybe my gut is right, and I need to investigate.
I take the ax with me, hefted over my shoulder, and I go back to the cabin. I don't call her name, because that would alert any assailants to my position. I'm silent as I creep up the front steps of the porch, skipping the creaky step that groans with every step on it. I get onto the porch, open the door, peer inside.
And Ashleigh lets out a strangled cry through the gag on her mouth. Tears stream down her face. Her hands are tied behind her, and she's strapped to a dining chair. Her eyes plead with me.
Beside her, Gary holds a gun to her head, a shit-eating grin on his face as if he’s waiting for me. "Hello, Cal."
Fucking Gary O'Shea.
I grit my teeth and swing the ax around to hold it in my hands. "Leave her alone, Gary."
"But why would I do that?" He pushes the gun so hard against her temple that it forces her head to look away. "She's the one who made trouble for me. She's the one who's doing this to herself."
"I don't know what she did to you," I say, trying to diffuse the situation. "But this isn't the answer."
"Oh, Cal, buddy," Gary says. "That's where you're wrong. Because she brought you into this mess. I gave you such a generous offer to give her to me. I warned you about her yesterday. I warned you—and you still didn't follow my orders. So...what was I supposed to do, other than follow you here?"
Of course. When I returned from Windy Wood, I tried taking a circuitous route back here. I tried to shake off anyone who could be following me. And with Samantha's parents visiting us, he could have just been waiting for that confirmation that Ashleigh was here.
He would have just been waiting for Ashleigh to be alone and for me to be unarmed. Because, while I have an ax, it's nothing against a gun. Gary knows this, and so do I.
So many factors. So many fuck-ups.
And now we're paying for it.
He's grinning like a kid who stole the whole damn cookie jar and got away with it.
"I was getting you your money," I say. "To save Ashleigh—whatever happened, you don't have to kill her."
Gary frowns mockingly. "Aw, you expect me to believe that she didn't tell you? I mean, look at her, she looks terrified. She would have spilled the beans as soon as possible. Just so she's not alone with that fear." He looks to her and tilts her chin toward him. "Isn't that right, Ashleigh?"
She spits something to him through the gag, and he laughs loudly.
"You're something else, darling," he croons.
My mind is running a million miles a minute. He doesn't want to kill her. Not if he believes that I'm willing to come up with as much as possible to save her. Maybe this all started off as a revenge kill for Gary—but now that he knows what's between us, he’s going to exploit that by any means necessary.
I can do that. I can give him what he wants. And then, I just want to take Ashleigh as far away as possible from everything and keep her safe.
I don't know how I can get Gary the money, though. I play through different scenarios. I could take up Magda and Wayne on their offer. I have some favors to call in. There are more options.
But nothing that could really secure one-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars. And I want to be sure to give him enough to make him get off our backs. I'm wondering if it's even possible, then.
Then I remember the poker tournament at the casino. And thankfully for both Ashleigh and me, I'm better at Texas Hold 'Em than I am at blackjack. Especially if I set my mind to it.
"What if I were to offer you a million dollars?" I ask.
Both Ashleigh and Gary widen their eyes, her in shock and him in suspicion. She watches me like she doesn't understand. He's looking at me like I'm playing a game.
"You ain't got that kind of money," he says with a scoff. "You wouldn't have borrowed from me if you did, at any rate."
"I can get it," I say. I lick my lips. "In exchange for Ashleigh's safety, I'll get you the money. The poker tournament at the casino."
He blinks and then bursts out laughing. "You think you can win that tournament?"
I meet Ashleigh's eyes. "I can. I promise you." It's a promise to her, not Gary. And I hope she knows that I'm serious in every way.
"And if you don't win?" Gary presses, drawing my attention back over to him.
I shrug with my palms up in an act of surrender. "If you harm a hair on Ashleigh, I promise you, I will find you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. And I will kill you."
Gary narrows his eyes. "Interesting. You're serious."
"I'm not exaggerating, asshole."
"No, you're not. But I need some collateral before I think you'd actually put your life on the line." He looks back at Ashleigh, giving her body a cursory glance. "I'll take her with me."
"Over my dead body," I say through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I have no doubt about that." And he turns the gun on me and fires. The sound is deafening in such a small space, echoing over and over again in my head as the pain starts edging into my conscious. It begins where the bullet hits me in my shoulder a
nd radiates outward. I collapse to my knees as darkness edges into my vision.
Getting shot isn't like it is in the movies. I've had it happen to me before—adrenaline and sheer willpower can get you through a lot. But if you get a life-threatening injury, there's nothing you can do to work through it.
Someone's screaming as I reach for the hole in my shoulder, almost in disbelief. The floor comes up to meet me. As if in slow motion, I see Ashleigh come to life. She screams and thrashes while Gary grabs her wrists. She's too wild for him, and he nearly loses his grip on her. Good girl. But then he takes the gun and clocks her on top of her head.
She crumples to the ground right beside me, unconscious. Her hair covers her face, and I can't see the extent of how badly she's hurt. Only that he did hurt her.
I try to reach for her, but Gary pulls her away.
He talks to me, but I can barely hear him. All I know is that I need to stay awake. Not pass out.
It gets dark. So dark. Why the fuck can't I hold on?
The door shuts behind Gary, and I'm left alone.
And it hurts so fucking much.
Callum
I must have blacked out for a bit because when I open my eyes, I'm on my back in a pool of blood that's stemming from the wound in my shoulder.
Pain lances through me. I need help, dammit.
"Fuck," I mutter.
I turn my cheek, and there's blood all around me. I'm surrounded by my own bleeding out. Fucking asshole shot me. And like a pussy, I passed out, and he took Ashleigh.
I want a fucking drink, so, so damn badly, and darkness edges into my sight. I'm hyperventilating—and I get a tingly feeling in my extremities telling me that I'm about to pass out again.
I groan and shift over to take out my phone. I can't call the cops, not exactly, because as soon as Gary gets wind of involvement from the police, he'll kill Ashleigh regardless of how much money he thinks she's worth.
But there is someone else I can call to help.
I manage to find my phone in my pocket, and I call the one person I know who can be discreet.
"Hey, did you ever figure out what happened with that girl?" Quint's voice fills the speaker, and I nearly crush my phone with my hand.
"She's gone, Quint," I whisper, running a hand through my hair. "He took her."
"What?"
"She caught Gary O'Shea offing someone for not paying his debts, and Gary wants her to be kept quiet." I run a shaking hand through my hair. "And now he's kidnapped her. And I have to win the poker tournament." I'm no longer making any sense. I've gotten so emotional, I grunt because I'm constricting my breathing so much.
There's stunned silence on the other end. "Where are you?" Quint asks.
I gasp for air. Fuck, I am going to pass out. "In hiding."
Another pause. Then, "What's the address? I'll come to you."
"Good, because I think I'm about to pass out. Again"
"What? Why?"
"The bastard shot me."
"Callum, you need to go to the hospital."
I nearly laugh at the chiding tone in his voice. As if I have any other choice than to just lie here, dying in the middle of the cabin. "I would do that, except you don't want me behind the wheel of a car." I'm panting now.
“Call an ambulance, then!”
“No.” I shake my head. “No ambulance.”
"Okay.” He sounds reluctant. “Give me your address, and I'll be right there. But you owe me, man."
“I know.” I give him the address for the cabin, including some extra directions when it gets a little tangly toward the end.
"Okay," he says. "I'll head straight over there. Don't do anything stupid."
"I will try to contain myself," I reply dryly.
It's as if what's kept me going up until now has left me, and I drop the phone without ending the call. Quint should be able to find me here. Hopefully.
And hopefully, I can stay alive until then.
I close my eyes. And darkness overtakes me.
"You're lucky you have a pretty good first aid kit here. And that I top marks in the first aid class." Quint tightens the bandage around my shoulder. "In fact, you're lucky that this was a clean exit wound. And that you didn't bleed out before I got here. In fact, you're just damn lucky, Callum." He got here fast. Which is good, because I had been passed out until he arrived. Who knows what would have happened if he had waited.
I could have died. And Ashleigh would have been left to Gary's mercy. Or lack thereof.
"Yeah," I say, sarcastically. "Real lucky."
Quint frowns and snips off the excess bandage. "We'll get her back."
"Or I'm going to kill that bastard." I grit my teeth. "I offered to pay him a million and—"
"You have a million dollars?"
I glare at him. "I'm going to win the poker tournament."
He puts the first aid kit back together and closes the lid. "You mentioned a poker tournament on the phone, but I thought that was just the mumblings of a dying man."
"No, it's a real thing." I grimace and slip the sling on over my head. "It's at the Windy Wood Casino, and if I don't win it, he's going to kill Ashleigh."
"Should you be gambling, though?" Quint gets to his feet and puts the first aid kit in the cupboard over the kitchen sink. "Really, you should go to the hospital."
"No." With my good hand, I push myself to my feet from my seat. "I have a couple of days. I don't want to go to a hospital or file a police report. Or anything. I just need to win."
I make my way to the medicine cupboard and pull out a bottle of ibuprofen. After my alcohol problem, I hate taking any sorts of drugs, even painkillers, but I'll make an exception for the hole in my shoulder. I try to unscrew the top, but the damn childproof top keeps me from doing it.
Quint calmly reaches over and unscrews it. "How many do you want?"
"The whole bottle."
He raises an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. "Four." I know 800mg is the max dose, and it's what I'd get at the hospital anyway before they would move on to stronger painkillers.
"Callum..."
"Dammit, I have a fucking hole in my shoulder, Quint. I'm not going to go back to the bottle, but I need to dull some of this pain before I pass out again."
That's all he needs to hear before he pops out four pills and fills a glass of water from the sink. I toss back the pills and drink the full glass.
"If you can't even open a pill bottle," Quint says, "how are you going to hold a hand of cards?"
"I’ll figure it out," I say. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "He has her. And she's counting on me to save her."
Quint nods. "Okay, fine. That sounds good. So, what is the plan now?"
I consider this for a moment, playing out the different scenarios in my mind, and every way this could go wrong. Because there will be hundreds of poker players vying for the pot. I need to go in with a clear mind, which is hard, considering that my mind is full of worry for Ashleigh and dulled by painkillers.
But I’m not going to trust that Gary will keep his end of the bargain.
I wet my lips. "Here's what we can do."
And I tell him about my plans. As crazy and stupid as they are, I intend to save Ashleigh. At any cost.
Ashleigh
"You will be well-behaved, won't you?" Gary hisses in my ear, and I feel the barrel of a gun press into the tender spot just below my shoulder blade. The asshole is holding a gun to me in plain sight of everyone at the Windy Wood Casino, and no one notices because of the crowd. Or, maybe, because they don't care. And, as he has warned me time and time again, if I don't behave, he'll kill both Callum and me without hesitation.
I give him a cold look but don't say anything. Anything I say will be used against me, so I just stay silent. The top and back of my head still hurt from where he hit me with the gun back at the cabin. I'm surprised no one has seen the knot on top of my head, because it feels enormous when I touch it. It's probably a concussion, a
lthough I have no way of checking it.
But no one has noticed. Everyone is too absorbed in their slot machines and poker hands.
He takes this as my consent. "Good. You should be happy that you'll get to see him tonight."
My heart flutters at the thought of seeing Callum. The last time I saw him, Gary shot Callum and he fell to the floor. That was just before Gary clocked me, so when I woke up in a dark, dingy basement, I thought he was dead for a horrible forty-eight hours. In that time, I've grieved for him, faced a future without the guy that I've fallen for. And tried to come to terms with Gary kidnapping me.
The only solace I had was that I was still alive.
The nightmares were the worst. Between my throbbing head and the sight of Callum getting shot, my nightmares were of him getting shot over and over again, and there was nothing I could do but watch.
It wasn’t until Gary came to retrieve me to take me to the casino that I learned that Callum is still alive. The combination of joy and terror is the worst.
"He must really, really love you," Gary croons as he pushes me forward. "Because he is willing to win the million-dollar pot and give it to me in exchange for your life."
I suck in a deep breath because Gary used the words that neither Callum nor I had the chance to say to each other. And yet Gary notices before either of us did.
"Well, that is if he can win this silly thing." The barrel presses harder into me, and I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. "If he doesn't, you're still worth more to me alive than dead." He chuckles and leans in closer. I can smell the tobacco on his breath, and I fight the urge to spit in his face. "I have a buyer who's willing to pay eighty-grand for you."
A buyer for a woman. Like sex trafficking or any number of dark deeds that I can't even begin to imagine. I can’t imagine what kind of future I may be facing.
"If you do that," I hiss, "I will tell the cops everything." It's the first thing I've said to him, and it's a threat to turn him in for what I saw.
He doesn't seem as worried about this as I would think. Instead, he simply leans into me. "You'd be surprised how little you will actually care about that kind of thing when you're high as a kite." He snickers at my stoic expression at the mention of being drugged. "And besides, you'll be so far from any help, you can scream and shout all you want. No one will hear you."