CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Protect Her
LAKE
Serenity’s hiding place is behind the closest wall in the dining room. She’s safe, but only for now.
When Brooks gave me that entire speech, I didn’t fully understand it, but as that cold barrel pressed into my head, I got it. I could cross the world, I could go to the furthest point from my wife possible, and she wouldn’t be safe. I’ve wanted her to feel loved and protected, and I thought the only way I could was by leaving.
But now my wife is in danger, and I’m the only one keeping her from being hurt. These morons can rip me apart limb for limb it if saves her.
To Love Serenity is to be a changed man.
I love this woman, and I’m not letting her go. I can show her what love is even when my hair goes gray. I can protect her, even when I’m terrified. Keeping us apart only blocks me from showing her just how much I love her.
Fletcher coughs out more heavy breaths. He’s a bit frazzled after firing a damn gun at me. Boohoo. The bullet he shot created a cavity in the metal fridge. I’m alright, but my heart is pounding too.
“Oh, so I can’t kill anyone cause I’ll screw it up, right?”
Fletcher groans. “I wasn’t expecting him to fucking dive into the kitchen?”
“Right. Cause shooting him here will be easy to clean up.” Sarcasm rings in TC’s tone. “I thought I was the idiot for abducting her too early.”
“If we did this right, they’d be tied up and gagged. Far the hell away from here, surrounded by sheets.” Fletcher huffs and his voice raises. “So we could splatter some blood and burn it all. Not that hard of a plan to follow.”
I slide across the kitchen floor, staying in an army crawl. I move slower than a snail so I don’t make a single noise, otherwise they’ll snap out of it, and I’m relying on them tweaking out.
A memory flickers through me of my feet. They glide across the floorboards that don’t creak, so Serenity can sleep with no distractions. I’ll pretend she’s taking a nap. That’ll help.
Fletcher keeps blabbing. “We don’t know who comes around here. Serenity’s friend used to come by every waking hour. How did you think this was a good idea?”
“Where the hell is your gun?” he adds.
TC screams back, “the cops, man! The cops stole it!”
Alright. First, I gotta recap this and come up with an action plan. TC’s been stabbed. The last time I checked, his wound was still oozing blood. He’s also on a coke bender. I’m praying that he crashes soon. That’d be useful.
Fletch-tramp is fine, other than being damn near insane.
These two idiots are working together. Fletcher had nothing to do with Mancini’s death, but he played his part in screwing over Serenity. They both did. Now Fletcher’s trying to do damage control, but his partner is losing it.
My eyes flick around.
I don’t got a gun, but there’s a drawer of knives I can use. Not helpful when there’s a loaded gun in play, but maybe I can throw one. It could hit one of them, or it doesn’t—but it still buys me time to tackle someone.
Brooks and I used to throw knives at trees behind the trailer park. My aim isn’t total trash.
I move as close as I can to the knife drawer. I don’t want Fletch or TC to notice me until the last possible second. Then I peer back to the dining room to make sure my wife is secure, and panic lodges into my ribs when I can’t see her.
She’s not there, so she’s planning something, but I’m meant to protect her.
“You’re gonna let them send me to jail? Tie up your loose ends so you can find a new partner?” TC’s ranting makes my head hurt. “Keep my business going? Take all my work right out of my hands?”
I hear him slamming his hand onto his chest, saying, “I got you this far. I’m the reason your drugs are cooked and sold.”
“You don’t cook nothing, Dom. You call yourself The Cooker so you feel superior,” Fletcher spits back. “I’m the reason your ego is so damn big. My bad for inflating it, because you forget you’re only here from my supply. My knowledge.”
I drag open the drawer above me while the bozos have a close-contact staring contest. I have no idea if they’re about to have a duel or a kiss.
“Yeah, well.” I snoop above the counter and see TC licking his lips. “I just might rat on you, too. Wait till I’m safe behind bars and tell the pigs what I know.”
Fletcher chuckles. “Nobody would believe you. Who the hell is gonna take a minute to listen to your coked-out ass?” His eyes are enormous, nothing behind them but cruelty. “No. Fucking. One.”
TC grabs his knife from above me, draws back his hand, and smashes the blade across Fletcher’s cheek, tearing the skin right open. The slash, followed by Fletcher yelling, grants me the time I need. I snatch a knife out of the drawer, swap it for a sharper one, shut the drawer, and return to hiding.
I don’t know where my wife went. She’s still somewhere in the dining room, otherwise we all would’ve seen her rush by. I hope I’m wrong and she’s not planning anything. She better be hiding, and she better be waiting for me. Today is not the day for her to be my stubborn savior. Tomorrow isn’t either. Tomorrow she’s having a damn spa day.
“Okay. Okay. Stop!” Fletcher shouts. “We need to get him.”
They’ve been smacking each other for the past minute. I could’ve sashayed out the door and neither of them would’ve noticed.
“Fuck this. What’s even the point?” TC keeps the argument going, and I’m tempted to smash my head against the cupboards.
They’re stupid, that’s both crap and good. Stupid means reckless mistakes, like when Fletcher almost shot me in the face, but stupid also means I get the chance to be smarter and think quicker than these two. When I was sitting beside Serenity, and her asking simple questions was enough to distract Flicker-Licker from me getting out of my zip ties.
That wasn’t hard to do when he finally stopped eyeing me down. I rubbed them against the corner of the wall to create friction, wore down the plastic, and snapped them off my wrists.
Fletcher grumbles. “I can’t believe I ever went into business with an imbecile.”
Alright. Gotta act soon. If they tie me up again, we’re screwed. I can’t let them get me, or get near my wife.
I take a deep, silent breath through my nose.
Throw the knife. Just gotta throw the knife and run at them.
Protect her. Protect her. Protect her.
I clench the knife handle in my palm, just peering above the counter so I can watch them. They’re still standing there, fighting about their next move, neglecting the possibility that I’ve already planned mine.
Then I brace myself, and I shift to my feet, hiding low behind the counter. I charge back the knife in my palm like I’m playing a video game. I swap between the two of them, but I stick my aim on Fletcher.
Unless TC faints, they’re both equally intimidating. My worry is that TC’s coked-head is more likely to kill me straight away. Fletcher’s stunted from firing the gun before, and he doesn’t wanna kill me here. So I’ll damage him and attack TC.
That’s my logical reason, but then there’s also my new knowledge of Fletcher using my Serenity’s kindness to watch his idiotic partner. He used her, harassed her after the fact, and still has the ego to insult her.
My arm pulses, and I chuck the knife right at him, but then, in slow motion, I watch a golden candlestick hurl from the dining room. It’s going at the same speed as my knife. I look over, and there she is, the candlestick culprit. She brings her shoulders to her ears, giving me a tiny smile. Then she disappears back where I can’t see.
Her hands are free. She’s on her feet.
No damn time to waste. I grab onto the counter and leap right onto it. Then I fly like a wild coyote and throw my entire body at TC. Both of them stare at me in fear. Fletcher tries to reach for me, but the candlestick bashes him in the head, and my knife cuts into his back before sliding across the ground and slipping right under the TV stand.
Serenity was waiting for me. She helped me by throwing that stick, and it’s enough to shock him, keep him stalled. I know he’s the one with the gun, but he won’t make the same mistake of shooting at me unless I’m after him.
If I can get TC locked down, it’ll save me from his wild coke bender.
TC and I hit the ground. He’s screaming like a banshee and hitting me, trying to keep his knife away from my reach. Can’t-Satisfy-My-Wife-Fletcher crashes into the counter. I’d give it a minute for him to recover from the shock of his new injuries.
Sixty seconds. There’s no point in fighting over this damn knife just cause it’s sharp and shiny. All I need to do is hit him in the head and knock him out. I let TC take his knife, and as he struggles to grip the handle, I pull back my fist and slam him right in the nose I already broke. His green eyes go dull and shut. His arms falling to his sides.
“This is a damn mess.” Fletcher grabs onto my shoulder, reefing me off of my old dealer. He throws me onto my back. “Get your shit together, Caleb. Get it together.”
I cough. “Forget your antipsychotics today?”
He furrows his eyebrows at me. “I’ll just need to kill you two here. Get it cleaned up before anything and make you both disappear. It’s not like I don’t have the money for it.”
Alright. So, I should’ve tackled Flimsy Fletcher first.
“That’s not a good idea, Fletcher, my brother—”
He aims his gun at my head. Three times in a week, but if I think about each time TC pointed his gun at me, it’s more like six. My chances of getting out of this are diminishing. I reach over TC’s knocked out body, trying to grab his knife, but Fletcher kicks me back and presses his foot into my forearm.
“That’ll just need to work. I can finally stop worrying about you spilling secrets.” He cocks the gun.
I’m so close to death, I can taste it. But death tastes bitter this time, because my heart is going, throbbing right against my ribs. Beating for my lover. Hunting for my life.
If I meet it here, if I die this time, nobody’s going to beat for her.
I flex my forearm, releasing some pressure, using my legs and my back to toss me over. I knock Fletcher off of his balance, but I don’t need to do anything else. As I struggle to my toes, the sadistic grin is wiped from his lips, because my Angel latches onto his back. The bullet he fires lands next to where my damn head just was and dents the floor, splitting the wood.
Alright, Boston, that’s two bullets shot in the last ten minutes. Let’s get ringing! Who can call the cops faster?
I watch my wife, halo circling around her head, sink her teeth right into Flabby’s shoulder. He yelps and stumbles, trying to shake her off.
I grab onto TC’s hunting knife, ascending out of my damn body at the multiple near-death experiences I’ve had this week, but I can’t swing yet without the possibility of hurting her. They’re twisting and turning in circles. Plus, I’d much rather try to get Fletch-smells-like-ass’ gun.
He takes his empty hand, burying it into Serenity’s pretty blonde hair, and pulling it, making her wince, and he slams her spine right into the counter.
My feet pick up speed, but Serenity cries out a name that isn’t mine. She shouts, “Dom!”
There’s not even a second before TC flies on me, exactly how Serenity jumped Fletcher. He’s awake thanks to his damn coke. I didn’t hit him hard enough.
My wife is fighting for a gun while a grown, crazy, mid-life crisis is crawling and swinging all over me, but I can’t look away from her. I keep trying to chuck TC off of me, and I watch as Serenity somehow pries the gun from Fletcher’s fingers.
TC clocks me in the side of my face, and I almost let myself stumble, but the adrenaline, the rage, the fueling hope that this can end, and I’ll look back in eighty years, sitting on a damn porch swing with my wife—I punch him three times in one go, and I take his whole body and throw him to the ground.
My angel hops off of Fletcher’s back, but she doesn’t go for the gun. She starts booking it down the hallway. “I’ll go get help, cupcake!” She yells.
Cupcake? What is your plan, Serenity?
I tune out TC’s heavy breathing and approaching steps. Fletcher stays for a moment. His head swinging between her and his gun, and I do the same.
She got the gun and tossed it. Why’d she toss it? It’d be great if she actually ran out the damn door like she’s pretending to do, but Serenity would never do that.
Fletcher goes after her, instead of collecting his weapon, and TC slams his fist into the back of my head. Then my angel screams at the top of her lungs when Fletcher grabs her by the waist, and her scream throws me off. I tumble to the floor, rolling around with TC for a second time, but I keep hold of the knife.
“Serenity,” I yell, barely paying attention to my safety.
Cupcake. Serenity doesn’t know how to make cupcakes. She wanted to for my birthday, but she told me she almost burned the house down when she baked muffins after meeting me.
The piece shifts into place. She doesn’t know how to use the gun, and that’s not all. She wanted Fletcher to chase her, so he wouldn’t have the advantage over us. So I could take the gun and save us.
“Dom,” Fletcher shouts. “Take care of him. Get your revenge.”
I didn't want this crap to get messy. I’ve punched people until their faces are breaking. That was never an issue, but killing someone isn’t something I’ve ever wanted to do. Taking an eye for an eye—like when Fletcher gave my wife a panic attack, that’s different. We’re beyond equal now, though. I could kill them both and it still wouldn’t be enough.
They’ve insulted my wife. Broke into her home. Fletcher’s touching her where only she wants my touch, snagged on her pretty waist. I’ve reached my limit. I’m well fucking over it.
“The hell off of me—” TC silences me with a punch to the face. It makes my ears ring.
My angel hits the ground. Fletcher threw her onto the fucking floor. “Stop screaming, Serenity. Be happy this is the last face you’ll ever fucking see.” He pushes out his arms, looming over her body, and he’s crunching his foot on her ankle so she can’t crawl away.
My wife.
I need to get to my wife.
I want TC to rot in prison for the rest of his days for the stress he’s caused Serenity, but I have the handle secured in my palm. He needs to get off of me. I’m not feeling remorse for how that’ll happen.
He’s panting, he’s bleeding. I could stab him in his stomach. I could take my revenge for her. If I stab him, the gash will promise he can’t attack me again, but I think of my father. He’d take this chance without question, just to make it easy on himself. So I bite my cheek, and I choose to smash TC in the face, harder this time.
The skin on my knuckles shred, and blood breaks through the surface. I push his collapsing body off of me and get to my feet.
Fletcher stands with his back to me, his open arms close in, darting for her neck. She’s refusing to look at him. Her eyes go beyond him. They’re on me.
I’m coming, Angel.
This is the only time in my life I’ll step softly while she’s not taking a nap. I move quick but in silence. I tuck the knife in my pocket and go for the gun.
Fletcher’s having some moral crisis. He’s shaking like a leaf. He may be wrapped in the crime world, but he operates in the dark. Fletcher’s not the man breaking fingers and watching people bleed out.
Still, I know for sure, if he can throw her to the ground, attack her, and threaten her life, he can kill her. He will kill her. Once he convinces his hands to encase around her throat.
She’s out of my view for a second, and I hurry around the dining room floor, spotting the gun under a chair. The same chair Julie scowled at her daughter from. I’m not gonna be happy if I find out Serenity’s parents knew about her situation. I wonder how mighty they’ll feel when they hear about this.
The gun fits in my palm; I hold it tight, and I dart out of the dining room. I find Serenity pushed against the table, pictures falling and frames smashing. She somehow got to her feet, but he grabbed her.
He shoved her into that table. His hands are just sinking into her neck, while her scream is silenced, and she claws at him.
There’s no hesitation, no final words, because this isn’t a power trip for me. I’m not holding down an innocent woman, trying to make her beg for her life.
I’m just taking his.
I say, “Caleb.”
His grip loosens on her neck to look behind him. She scrambles away, tumbling to the ground.
The fear in his eyes transitions back to her when she thuds. I’m not sure what goes through his head, but he goes for her. Maybe it’s an attempt to make her his shield and ruin my plan.
It’s too late for him to pull that off.
The gun fires, the bullet spirals through the air, and it strikes right where I wanted it to. In the center of his back. Not only causing him to fall, but making him paralyzed.
Angel crawls away, saving herself from being stuck under his weight. He’s not crashed against the hardwood by the time I race past him and reach her. I drop to my knees, burying her face into the crook of my neck, and I turn her away from the massacre scattering through our hallway.
My blood filters through my eyelashes, didn’t even know my head was bleeding, but I don’t care. “Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods. “I’m okay. I’m fine. Are you okay?”
I’m shaking, altering the gun between the two knocked out bodies, in case they rise. “I’m okay if you’re okay, Angel.”
She squeezes her arms around my neck, crawling right into my lap. “I’m terrified.”
“That’s okay. Just breathe with me.”
The front door crashes into the coatrack. I grit my teeth and point the gun, only to aim it right between my brother’s eyes. Angel barely flinches, meaning she knows. She somehow told them.
Jimena’s eyes land on Serenity. She ignores her boss, literally bleeding out on the floor, and dips to the ground. “Serenity, everything’s okay.”
“Give me that, buddy. Cops are on the way.” Brooks holds out his palm. “Are you alright?”
I don’t answer him, but I hand him the gun, holding Serenity tighter when I feel her tears running down my neck. “Call an ambulance for these two. Hopefully, they live and suffer longer.”
“Serenity texted us,” Jimena says. “We got here as fast as we could.”
Brooks charges through the hallway. He grumbles to himself like a dad who just caught his son smoking a joint. That’s how he considers this situation.
Then Jimena leaves Serenity’s side. She gives me a tiny smile and follows it with a nod. Her silent approval. She trails down the mess and gives Fletcher’s limp body a dirty glance. Nothing more.
I tune it all out and I tuck my wife as close to me as possible, inhaling her scent, feeling her heart going crazy in her chest. She’s okay. She’ll be okay.
“Lake,” she cries. “You said you’re coming home, yeah? You’re still coming home?”
“I’m here,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Never going nowhere again. Except for some serious therapy.
She keeps crying, breaking my heart with every sob and sniffle. There’s gotta be something I can do. Somehow spin this night into a positive.
On my birthday, I wished for her to be happy. Now I wish to be the one that makes her happy. “I’m going nowhere without you, honey. We’ll get a nice house, I’ll clean it, and I’ll cook your meals.”
She hums, her voice changing octaves more times than I can count.
“Not only that, we’re gonna have babies, and we’ll raise them in that house.” I suck in a needed breath. “If that’s what you want. How does that sound?”
“That sounds nice. Isn’t it scary, though?” She sniffs. “The permanence of it all?”
That question’s become an easy one to answer in the last few hours. I smile to myself, and my head sways. “No. Angel. None of it scares me anymore. I only want you. A life with you. That’s all I need.”