Chapter 28 – LISA
LISA
The muzzle flash comes before the sound, both of which seem to happen in slow motion as I stand frozen to this spot.
Then Beau is there, charging out from between two cars, moving faster than any human being should be able to move, launching himself at me, arms outstretched. His back hits my chest, his body jerking against mine as the first gunshot fills the air.
Knocking me sideways and slamming me against the ground so hard the breath punches out of me, my head hitting the ground with a dull thud, he crawls over me and covers my body with his.
Everything goes black for a second and pain so sharp it makes my eyes water explodes in the back of my head while the noise around me fades in and out.
My brain is screaming at me to move, that the danger isn’t over.
Lifting my head and wincing as I try to roll to my front and get up, I find myself pinned under Beau’s massive body.
Unable to comprehend what’s happening, I shove him as hard as I can, needing him to get off me before Dimitri fires again, but it’s like trying to push a wall.
Panic threatens to overtake me, but I stuff it back down, knowing that staying calm is our best shot at getting through this.
“Beau, we need to move.”
It must only be a second of silence, but something inside me breaks open when he doesn’t reply.
The next shot hits lower, somewhere in his side, and a grunt tears out of him, but he doesn't let go of me, still shielding my body with his.
“No,” I whimper, dredging up as much energy as I can to lift myself just mere inches off the ground. He’s too heavy to move, not helping me at all as I struggle beneath him. That’s not good.
No, no, no.
His heartbeat is hammering against my chest, which would be reassuring if not for the heat of his blood that’s now soaking through his shirt and onto my hands where I’m clutching at his shoulders attempting to roll us.
“Lisa…” he moans, pushing up onto his hands and knees. Footsteps approach, and I freeze, eyes wide, knowing what’s coming.
So does Beau, because he moves at the last second, just enough, as the third bullet rips through his shoulder and sprays blood across the side of my face.
"BEAU!"
He sags, one elbow bending just a little before he surges up to his knees.
Dimitri is walking toward us, the gun still raised, closing the distance with a flat expression, while ignoring the screaming patrons behind us and the cars that are tearing out of the lot behind him. He stops close to Beau tilting his head, studying him.
“What is it with you fucking Lennoxes?” he snarls, then he adjusts his aim and points the gun at my face.
Beau's hand shoots up and grabs the barrel.
The gun discharges, the bullet punching through Dimitri's thigh, and his scream bounces off the warehouse walls.
Before he's even started to fall, Beau's other fist connects with his jaw, a devastating punch thrown from his knees with three bullets in his body, and Dimitri drops to the concrete, out cold.
Beau’s breath leaves him in one big exhale, and he tips forward. The shouting from the warehouse is still pouring out into the night, but here in the dark, it sounds distant, the only sound I hear is Beau's laboured breathing.
My hands scramble for a grip under his arms, fingers slipping in the blood that's everywhere now. He's too heavy. When he falls to the ground, I go down with him, the tarmac biting my skin through the torn leather pants, holding him against me, his head lolling against my shoulder.
“Beau? Lisa?” Van’s voice is in my ear. “I’m on the way. Police and ambulances are incoming.”
I ease Beau onto his back, and the wetness spreading beneath him is warm against my knees. My lip wobbles as I stare at his handsome face, twisting in pain with each rasping inhale that he takes.
“Mr. Black’s gone. He doesn’t have Amber,” Tripp confirms over the radio before his real voice approaches from the side, cursing as he drops to his knees beside us.
When Beau’s eyelids droop, threatening to shut, I press a hand to the side of his face.
"Stay with me."
Yanking his shirt up, my shaking fingers search for the wounds, expecting the worst, damage that no amount of pressure or field dressing is going to fix.
There’s too much blood.
“I can’t… I can’t see where it’s coming from…” I cry out to Tripp as I frantically search his torso with hands I can't keep steady.
Tripp is frisking a handcuffed Dimitri, making sure he has no other weapons. With a triumphant shout, he yanks a set of keys out of Dimitri’s inside pocket and stands. Scanning the lot, he presses the fob, and in the distance, orange lights flash.
“Tripp! Help me!”
Ignoring my pleas, I watch in disbelief as he takes off across the car park toward Dimitri’s vehicle with little or no concern for the state of his friend, who is literally dying right here in the dirt.
“Van, how far away are those ambulances?” I ask, running my fingers over Beau’s torso until I find one wound under his armpit, a dangerous spot to get shot in.
Except the entry point on his side is puckered and dark, and the edges are pulling inward, the skin already knitting back together.
That's not possible. Is this an old injury?
He moves, and blood oozes from a hole in his thigh.
"Beau." I press both hands against the wound, unsure where to concentrate on, where to stem the flow first. "Beau, look at me. Please."
His eyes flutter but don't open fully. His breathing is shallow, and his normally tanned skin looks grey. The fear clawing at my throat is so violent, I can barely keep it together.
“I’ve got her.” Tripp’s calm voice over the radio is a stark contrast to mine. “Fuck, I’ve actually got her.”
There’s silence on the line while we all try to wrap our heads around what Tripp is saying. His voice fades as he whispers quietly to someone close by, and a feminine voice replies, faint, but definitely a woman.
As he explains that we’re friends of Zara’s, that we’ve been looking for her, I stare down at Beau, my eyes burning. “She’s here.”
I’ve been trying to make sure Dimitri didn’t bolt, get away before we could find out where he’d stashed Amber. I never dreamed he’d have been bold enough to bring her here. But I guess he was desperate, and she was his only bargaining chip.
“Is she okay?” Beau’s eyes open, just halfway, and lock onto mine, praying just as I am that she’s relatively unhurt after her ordeal. His fingers find mine, and he squeezes them.
“Physically, she appears to be okay,” Tripp says quietly, and for a second, something inside me cheers. We got her back.
But what about Beau? I want to scream. Why the fuck aren’t his so-called friends more worried about him?
Tires screech as Van’s skids to a halt close by.
He hops down and hurries over, his bad leg obviously hurting as he runs with a medical bag in hand.
With his leg straight out to one side, he sits and scans Beau’s abdomen, poking and prodding at the wound there, before giving his thigh and shoulder a mere glance.
“He’s healing,” he says with relief, acting like this is a completely normal thing that’s happened.
I sit back on my heels, staring at him.
“Get Amber into the van, Tripp. We need to go.”
There are sirens wailing in the distance. While I’m thrilled to hear them approaching fast, Van and Tripp are getting anxious.
“What do you mean, go? Go where?”
Tripp moves past me, shepherding a tiny woman toward the side of the surveillance van, extending a hand to offer her help inside, if she wants it, but careful not to touch her without permission.
Van hastily wraps some bandages around Beau’s wounds and clambers back to his feet.
“Those aren’t going to do anything apart from get in the way…” I argue, about to pull them free, when Tripp pulls my hands away. I sit back, frowning up at him. “What’s going on?”
None of this makes sense. We have Amber. The police are coming to arrest Dimitri. Top priority now is getting Beau the help he needs. Why do they look like they’re leaving?
"Lisa." Tripp is back, crouching in front of me now, his hands on my shoulders. His face is calm, but his grip is firm. "We need to move him. Can you help me get him up?"
My hands are still pressed against Beau's side over the pathetic bandages Van put on, the blood sticky between my fingers.
"No ambulance. No hospital." Tripp's voice is steady, not unkind, but there's also no room for negotiation.
"Trust me, Lisa. I know you’re scared, but I promise, Beau's going to be okay.
But we need to get him into the truck and back to the motel fast. Before anyone sees him like this. Can you do that?"
Beau's hand pulls on my wrist. His eyes are fully open now, brown and glazed with pain, but he nods once and brings my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“Fuck, I…”
Beau nods again, imploring me to do what they say. His eyes slide to the road that’s stretching out in the distance, where blue and red lights are coming in hot, a line of vehicles about to converge on this location.
This is madness. Logically, I know that, but I trust him. So, I choke back the sob that's been building in my chest and agree. “Fine.”
Together, Tripp and I haul Beau upright.
He sways, grabs Tripp's shoulder, and lets out a string of curses that reassures me more than anything else could. When we get to the van door, Amber’s cowering in the back, pressed into the corner, with legs tucked up and knees tight to her chest, and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Beau leans heavily against me, his arm across my shoulders, and manages to hiss out, "Go first."
Easing out from under his arm, I switch into professional cop mode and approach Amber slowly.
"Amber." Crouching so I'm at her level, I keep my voice low and even. "My name is Lisa Harris. I'm a detective with the Black River police department and a friend of your sister, Zara. We've been looking for you for a long time. You're safe now."
Her mouth opens and closes, then her eyes dart between my face and the blood on my hands.
"This isn't mine," I add, which is mostly true. "We’re going to get you out of here and take you to see your sister. Is that okay? These are the good guys, I swear."
The smallest nod. She brushes her hair back from her face, red welts visible around her wrists from whatever he’s kept her arms bound with.
Sliding into the seat beside her, I’m careful to keep my distance.
Tripp helps Beau into the passenger seat.
He's moving from his own steam now, one hand pressed to his side, his colour marginally better than it was barely two minutes ago.
When he pulls the door shut, his jaw is clenched and his breathing is measured, but he's conscious. Which now seems absolutely ludicrous considering the injuries he’s sustained.
Van pulls out of the lot and turns left, away from the approaching law enforcement and the nearest hospital.
I stand, stooping so I can hurry forward to stick my head between the two front seats. "Van, where are you going? Turn around. He needs a doctor."
Panic swells inside me once more. What about this don’t they understand? He’s been shot three times. He needs surgery, a blood transfusion, life-saving intervention.
"Lisa." Tripp is beside me now, his voice low and calm. "Look at him."
Beau twists in his seat and reaches back. Without thinking, I take his hand, and he presses my palm flat against his side where the bullet went through him. The skin beneath the blood-soaked fabric is now smooth and unbroken.
That can't be right.
Afraid of hurting him, I gingerly run my fingers up and down, but there’s nothing there.
"Nobody can know about me," Beau says quietly. “About this.”
My grandmother's voice floats into my head. Stories from the kitchen floor, about men who could heal, who could change, who carried the mountain inside them. Stories I grew out of and forgot about or dismissed out of hand… until right now.
“What are you?” I whisper, but Beau holds my gaze and nods, somehow sensing that deep down, I already know.
Van is on the phone to someone via his earpiece as he races down the road, checking his mirrors to see if anyone is following us.
"Chase, it's Van. We have Amber.” A pause. “She's alive, she's with us. Dimitri's down with a gunshot to the leg, and we've called it in anonymously." Another pause while Chase speaks. "We're heading back to base to regroup. Beau took three rounds. He's healing."
How on earth is that the last thing he tells him? An afterthought?
Van gives Beau some side eye. “Being a bit dramatic about it if you ask me.”
Beau’s lips curl in a tiny smile, but I’m furious on his behalf.
“This isn’t right,” I hiss, struggling to accept that we’re not endangering his life, but Beau’s hand is still holding mine against his side, and his heartbeat is strong and steady under my palm.
In the seat behind, Amber's eyes are closed, her head against the window. She’s not asleep, but she looks relaxed, or as close to it as a woman who's been held captive for months and locked in a trunk can get.
Van turns to Beau. “Chase is trying to track Caleb, but he lost them on the traffic cams…”
“Don’t bother.” Beau shakes his head and looks out the window, not seeming particularly angry, just resigned. “He made his choice. He doesn’t want to be found. At least, not yet.”