Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
Ramsey
Haze is still coming down from the high of being thoroughly fucked while her ex watches. Curtis can’t seem to take his eyes off her, and I half wonder if I’m giving him more enjoyment than he deserves just by letting him see her fall apart for me. But I wanted him to know—needed him to know—that any thought he’s ever had about her coming harder for him, wanting him more, or loving him more than me is dead fucking wrong. Haze and I could be separated by thousands of miles, and our hearts would still beat in sync like we were made for each other. I can only imagine how much it fucking hurts to be the one who wants her but knows he could only ever come in second best.
I stand over him; his brow is sweaty, and his eyes dart between me and Hazel. He struggles against the tape that’s been keeping his hands secure again, trying to lurch forward in the chair like it might threaten me somehow. I rip the duct tape off and pull back the rag, grabbing his jaw in my hand and squeezing so hard I’m half worried I might break it. Then I spit straight into his mouth.
His eyes go wide with surprise, but when he starts to speak, I backhand him across the cheek. It’s so hard that I hear the crack of my bones against his, and I feel the sting of it.
“That’s the last taste of her you’ll ever get. So fucking savor it.”
He’s still dazed and blinking when I shove the rag back into his mouth and put the tape back in place. It’s struggling to adhere to his sweaty cheek now, so I double it, and then triple it. The last thing I want is to hear him say one more word about her. I look back at Hazel, who’s easing off the counter and grabbing her clothes. She slips back into them quietly, and then she looks at me. There’s a question on her face. It’s a simple one, but one I don’t have an answer to yet. I need time to think, and I haven’t had that. It’s only been act since the moment I saw his hands on her—wanting to kill him and then having to talk myself down, reminding myself that if I kill him, I’ll lose her in the process. It’s not worth it, however much I might want it. We need to find out who he works for. What he’s looking for that he’s willing to go to these kinds of extremes.
“Go pull the truck up to the back deck,” I say soft enough that only she can hear me. “And call Bo while you’re out there. Tell him I’ve got a one-point safety.”
She nods her understanding, trusting that I’ve got a plan—and I do, it just might be a little half-cocked. But we’ll figure it out, especially once I have Bo and my brothers’ help. That’s who I need more than anyone right now because I can’t shake the feeling that they know more about this than they’ve been letting on.
I send Haze on her way, and then I take Curtis—chair, duct tape, and all—and drag him over the den rug. I shove the furniture out of the way as he watches, and I can see his wheels turning. He thinks he’s going to die, and the panic is setting in as he struggles against his restraints.
“I told you not to fucking come back here again. But you couldn’t stay away.” I shake my head, keeping an eye on him always as I move the last of the furniture off the rug.
He makes a groaning sound against the rag in his mouth, clearly trying to bargain with me, but I ignore him.
“Nah. You should have thought about all that before you got anywhere near Haze.” I close the distance between us. “You thought you’d get to steal from my family and have some fun with my wife and you’d just walk away?” I slap his cheek playfully, grinning at the way the panic sets into his eyes as they go wide, and his pupils dilate. He tries to talk again, and it’s muted by the dirty rag half stuffed down his throat. I take both sides of his face in my hands, pinching a little before I do my worst.
“This is where you’re going to learn not to fuck with my family.” I slam his head down as I draw my knee up hard, the cracking of the cartilage and bone in his nose, a muted grunt, and the slump of his body in the chair is the only answer to the violence.
I make quick work of what I do next, grabbing the knife out of my pocket to cut the tape on the chair and rebind his wrists. I let his limp body slide to the floor, and I stretch him out. I roll him with the carpet, turning him into a little Swiss roll of stupid fuck filling. He could come to any time, and I need him immobilized and silent when I take him out to the pole barn.
I grab the rope off the decorative saddle stand, using the knife to cut it, and I tie either end of the rug. I’m just in time to hear Haze pulling the truck up to the back deck and idling it. I throw the rug and its contents over my shoulder and haul them out, meeting her at the back door while she swings the storm door open .
“No one’s out right now. I checked.” She nods to the truck where she already has the tailgate down, and I toss him inside and climb in alongside him.
“Take us through the garage door at the pole barn,” I direct her, and her eyes briefly flash over the carpet and me before she’s back in the driver’s seat, taking us through the gravel lot between the house and the pole barn in rapid order. I just need to get him somewhere no one will see him. Somewhere we can keep him quiet until we decide how we’re going to get the information we need out of him. I shoot off a quick text to Grant, hoping he’s not indisposed at the moment.
She pulls the truck inside a few moments later, and the garage door comes down automatically behind us as she shuts off the engine and hops out.
“Tell me he’s not dead, Ramsey.” She looks at the rolled carpet, and her eyes meet mine with worry.
“He’s not dead. I just knocked him out to make the transport easier. We can get him strapped to something in here while we wait. What did Bo say?”
“He said okay.” Her eyes search mine again for answers.
“Good. Help me pull this carpet out?” I pull the tailgate out and she takes one end from me. I bear the weight while she helps guide the carpet as we walk through the pole barn to a place we can dump it on the floor. I’m not being particularly careful with the contents. If he breaks a bone or gets a little bruised up, it’s no different than what he did to her as far as I’m concerned, and in his case—he deserves it.
She helps me move him along, getting him into the center of the room where it’s mostly storage. We might as well start here so he can tell us what he and his friends were looking for. Because while I’m not worried about Curtis, his friends have me nervous. I have a feeling he’s just their scout, trying to find an easy way to get what they want before they come with their full forces. We have no idea where they are or where they went or even if they’ll be back. Never mind knowing who they are. Which means anything we do here needs to be quick and tireless until we can move him on—whatever that’s going to look like—once Bo and my brothers get here.
“Where are we putting him?” Haze asks as she whirls around, looking for somewhere convenient.
“Can you go get one of the chairs over there? They’re mixed in with some of that office furniture.” I nod toward where I’d been hiding a few short days ago. I knew there were at least a couple there that might work.
“Sure.” She skirts past me.
I pull the ropes on the carpet in the meantime, unrolling it and letting Curtis’s body loose. He’s still limp, and my heart skips a beat that I might have done more permanent damage than I thought when I knocked him out. I can’t afford another dead body on my rap sheet right now. I doubt they’ll overlook the second one the same way they did the first.
I kick his side, but he still doesn’t move. Another flurry of anxiety floats through my stomach, and I turn to look around. I can’t remember if the sink is still in here or if Haze removed it since she expanded the storage out here. I need cold water. That’s the quickest way to bring him to again if the circumstances aren’t worse than I planned.
I don’t get to find it, though, because, a moment later, my legs are taken out from me with one swift kick. Apparently, I don’t have to worry about Curtis being dead. Now I have to worry about me. Somehow, he’s managed to cut through the duct tape, and he’s got a small knife to my throat.
“I always knew you were stupid. But too stupid to check my pockets—I expected more of a challenge,” he rasps, his throat still sore, and his mouth still dry from the gag. He has me pinned down with his body weight as he hovers over me, one knee in my gut. The knife brushes against my neck, and I swallow hard as I try to put distance between my skin and the blade.
“Curtis, don’t!” Haze calls from across the room.
He laughs in return, a cackle that’s cut short by the rawness of his throat.
“She’s much more compliant when you threaten something she cares about. I learned that one from you.” He presses the knife harder against my skin, and I close my eyes, cursing him and myself in the process. After what we just did, I worry about how he’ll punish her if I’m not there to stop him.
“Curtis, please. I’ll do whatever you want. If you want me to go with you, I will. Just don’t hurt him,” she pleads.
I open my eyes again. I have to fight him. I have to find a way to get him off me without him slicing my throat open because her fate will be worse. The damage he did already was when he thought he was playing nice.
“Oh, don’t worry. You’re going to do everything I want, sweetheart. Just as soon as I take care of him, you can blow me while you kneel over his body. Let him bleed out while you suck me dry.” Curtis chuckles to himself, and I start to move, but he digs the blade in, not enough to rupture an artery but enough to make me bleed. I grunt out a protest, and he laughs louder. “You’re fucked now, Stockton.”
“Fuck you,” I curse under my breath, my mind racing trying to think of how I can at least take him out with me.
“Curtis! Please!” Haze’s plea is desperate, and my heart hurts for her. I can’t leave her like this. Not with him.
“Shut the fuck up!” Curtis yells back at Haze.
“Don’t fucking talk to her like that.” I growl the words, and he laughs again, we tussle for a moment, but he maintains the upper hand by keeping the knife to my throat, nudging it against my jugular .
“Stop moving, or I’ll kill her too when I’m done with you.” Curtis grits his teeth, and the muscle at his jaw ticks, his face going red from leaning down over me. I hear Haze’s soft footsteps reverberate across the concrete under my head, but he doesn’t seem to register them. Too lost in his own rage to pay attention. “Now you better fucking listen to every word I say.”
“Get your hands off my husband.” I can see her just on the edge of my vision as I stare up at the ceiling. She’s hovering behind him, a menacing look on her face if I’ve ever seen one. He’s startled by her proximity, but he still grins like he’s amused.
“That eager to suck daddy’s cock?” He winks at me. “You can—” He stops short, and then I see why. She has the barn rifle I’d left sitting on the desk aimed at his head.
“Blow you?” I can hear the taunt in her voice.
“Hazel… you need to calm down.” Curtis’s tone changes immediately, and he turns back to look at her. I use the opportunity to shove him hard, trying to get him off me, but when he slips, his knee hits my balls, and he digs in. His attention snaps back to me, and I feel the knife start to press into my flesh a moment before I see red. Thankfully not mine own.
There’s a flash from the muzzle of the gun and the spray of a million tiny droplets of blood. I blink as Curtis’s body slumps on top of me, blood streaming out from the wound in his skull onto my chest. I look up at Hazel in shock, but she’s already in motion. She tosses the gun aside and pulls at Curtis’s arm as I push, and we manage to get him off me. I move to sit up, trying to get myself right and make sense of what just happened. But she’s already in my lap, straddling me as her hands go to my chin. She lifts it and tilts her head to look at my neck.
“Are you okay? Oh my god! Let me see!” There’s panic in her voice that starts to fade as she looks me over. “Okay. It doesn’t look like anything more than a small nick.” She lets go of me and sits back, looking into my eyes. “I was scared he got you before I could stop him.”
“No. But Hazel…” My eyes drift to Curtis’s lifeless body.
“He was going to kill you. I had to.” Her brow furrows as she looks at him, her face shifting as she takes it in.
“Are you okay?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her, because my wife is strong as fuck, but she’s never had to kill someone before. I’m not even sure she’s seen someone die or shot at anything living. She never went on any of her brother’s hunting trips, that I know of. But at least they taught her how to shoot. Thank fuck.
“I’m fine. As long as you’re fine, I’m fine.” She leans forward and her hands cup my face as she checks me again for good measure.
“I’m fine.” I reassure her.
“Fuck me with a rattlesnake…” Bo’s voice is low, barely above a whisper, as he takes in the scene. He’s doing the math in his head that this has just gone from kidnapping to murder. Hazel knows it too as they exchange a look.
“It was self-defense. He was going to kill Ramsey.” She pulls herself up from my lap, stepping one foot over my legs and then holding out her hand for me so I can try to stand again.
Bo’s eyes meet mine as I stand, a seriousness there I’ve only seen a few times. We’re both imagining the same fate. One where Hazel ends up suffering for her good deed. I look back at her, and she’s staring at Curtis’s body too, still trying to make sense of the situation.
“We can just explain to the police that it was a domestic dispute, and I had to do it,” she says softly, in a tone that tells me even she doesn’t believe that will work.
“Haze, come here.” I reach for her, and she takes my hand. I pull her close to my chest, kissing the top of her head, and she squeezes me tight. “We can’t call the police, sugar. But we’re going to make sure you’re okay.” I look over her head, and Bo nods to me, already plotting how we’re going to get ourselves out of this mess.
She’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it. I’m not letting her life go up in flames because of me. Whatever it takes.