Chapter 39
EVER
A breeze coasts over my face. Frogs are croaking in the distance. When did me and Bobby decide to stargaze in the fields of Cambridge?
“Wake the fuck up!”
Frigid water hits my face. I open my eyes as more water is thrown at me.
I choke on it. It blurs my vision, and I blink a few times.
A light shines in my face, forcing me to look away.
My kidnapper slaps me, hard. My ears ring and the right side of my head throbs. I bring my arm up, but it doesn’t move.
I’m handcuffed and sitting against a wooden wall. While the light is on, I hurriedly look around. We’re in a wooden shed without a roof.
“Where are we?” I croak. My mouth is so dry. I lick at the drops of water clinging to my lips.
“Where isn’t important. Bobby’s here. That’s what matters. I’m gonna put a bullet in his head, right between the eyes.”
I shake my head—wrong thing to do. The room spins. My stomach roils and I dry heave.
My kidnapper laughs. “Can’t fuckin hurl, can you? Thank fuck. That shit smelled.”
I heave a deep breath in through my nose and exhale through my mouth. My mind clears. The room stops spinning. The throbbing in my head doesn’t.
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“Why do you care for him?”
What an odd question to ask. Bobby said the hit on him was personal.
The killer aimed for his heart rather than his head.
The guy has a balaclava on, but with the light on, I see the resemblance: blueberry-blue eyes and dark-brown hair with auburn highlights.
A few strands stick out from under the balaclava.
“He’s your brother.” The realization doesn’t surprise me.
During one of our many talks, Bobby shared his suspicion that he had more siblings out there.
“He’s a goddamn bastard who deserves every ounce of misery when I kill you, the woman he loves.”
“Why do you hate him so much?” I ask again.
“Answer mine first.” He turns off the flashlight, plunging us into darkness. My kidnapper takes a spot across from me with his back against the wall and his sniper rifle resting on his bent knee. He aims the rifle at my head.
“He’s kind, considerate, funny, protective, smart—”
“Enough.” He slashes the air. “You saying he’s a saint?”
I shake my head, but stop when the room spins. Groaning, I go to hold my head, then realize I’m in handcuffs. I grit my teeth and glare at my kidnapper. “No one is a saint. We all have our vices.”
“What’s his?”
“What do you think it is?”
He laughs, but it’s not friendly. It’s maniacal. Fear slithers up and down my spine. “Reverse psychology won’t work on me. What is his vice?” He demands in a low and lethal tone.
“He drives too fast on his motorcycle. Spends money too freely on cars.” I still can’t believe he found all of Carlos’s project cars and bought them for double or triple what they’re worth.
“What else?” He tips the rifle from my head to my chest.
“That’s all I can think of.”
“The drinking, the womanizing, the partying?”
I shrug. “He stopped.”
“You fucking serious?”
I nod.
“I don’t believe you. Love doesn’t change a self-serving bastard like Bobby Bliss.”
“It wasn’t love. Bobby was already a good guy. Something in his life made him into the guy you remember.” I tell my kidnapper, Bobby’s half-brother, what he told me about his ex. “She was a monster, lying, cheating, and manipulating him. What she did would be toxic to anyone’s mindset.”
“Mindfucked?”
“Yes,” I say in a soft voice.
“You’re sad for him.”
I nod. “I would’ve turned out the same had I been with a monster rather than my first love, who loved me without conditions or demands. I would’ve lost my mind had I been with someone who cheated, lied, and manipulated me.”
My head is pounding. I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale. A sharp pain in my chest overrides the pounding in my head.
“Bobby isn’t to blame. Whoever hurt you .
. .” My words garble. Fatigue weighs down my body.
My eyes are heavy, and I blink away the urge to fall asleep.
“Whoever hurt you, don’t give them the power to keep hurting you.
They weren’t the right person for you. Your person is out there.
The past is the past and can’t be changed.
Live in the present. Look toward the future. ”
“Bobby tell you that?”
I can feel his smirk in the darkness.
I smile. “My dad. And if you hurt me, he’ll make sure you’re sent to the prison he’s in.
You’ll never have peace. You’ll always be looking over your shoulder.
He’ll beat you within an inch of death, but never to the point you die.
He will dole out his version of your personal hell on earth. Now, let me go!”
“Never.”
I laugh.
He lurches and knocks me to the ground with his fist. My head hits the ground. I see stars. Laughter shoots from my raw, scratchy throat.
“Never say never,” I croak in between coughing. “Your words will come back and bite you in the ass and rob you of your heart and soul.”
He grabs the front of my shirt, lifts my head off the floor, and brings his face close to mine. The moon is bright, highlighting his eyes. They are so like Gwen’s that it’s like she’s in the room with me.
“Are those your father’s fucking words?” he growls.
“Nah,” I say, sounding like Bobby. God, he’s rubbing off on me. “They’re Bobby’s, and he will burn your world down to get to me.”
“Let him.” He lets go of my shirt. My head hits the ground.
Gunfire erupts from around me. I don’t lift my head. Dad always said to stay low when there’s gunfire. Why would Dad tell me that? I was ten.
A dark shadow looms over me.
He stumbles.
Then he falls.
In front of me.
With a loud thud.
My kidnapper stares at me, wide-eyed, takes a breath, and lets go of whatever it was he hung on to. His body stills.
Mine moves.
“Ever?” I’m picked up by my waist. My head lolls from side to side. “Ever!” I’m clasped tight to a large, muscular body. Bobby tries to stand me up. My knees wobble. My feet slip from beneath me. “Look at me, sweetness.”
I blink. “Bobby?”
“Yes, baby, I’m here.”
“Your brother . . .” I look over my shoulder. “Is he—”
“Stunned the fuck out.”
“Thank you.” My tongue is thick. My words slur. I lift my arm to cradle his face, but I can’t move it.
“Fucking uncuff her. Now!”
Someone rushes past Bobby.
“My wrists hurt.”
“Too tight. He put them on too tightly.”
Muscular arms go under my knees, and I’m picked up and cradled against a heavily covered chest. “What’s this?” I toy with the straps.
“Bulletproof vest.”
“You saved me.”
“I let you down.”
“How is saving me letting me down?”
“I’m the villain, Ever. I should’ve burned the world down for you.”
“Don’t you know?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“Know what, baby?” Bobby’s brow furrows.
I cough. “Burning the world down is a lot of work, Bobby. I’m fine with only the saving part.”
He laughs. “You okay?”
“I think I broke a rib and have a concussion.”
“I figured as much. What I meant is, are you good here?” He dips his head to the top of mine.
He’s asking if I’m mentally okay? Why wouldn’t I be? I’m alive, and so is Bobby’s half-brother. No one died.
I bite down on my bottom lip.
“Did I leave you speechless? You know what happens when I do.”
He’s teasing. My mind is wrapping around that part. My body is doing something weird. Everything happens at once. I shiver uncontrollably. My teeth are chattering. My body goes cold.
“Bobby.” A strangled cry escapes my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck, tight. I’ve never felt this way before, even when I went in and out of consciousness, waiting for the firefighters to get me out of the stolen car.
“Baby.” There’s worry and panic in his voice. We’re walking one minute, and the next, he’s running toward the ambulance that’s parked next to a bunch of police cars. “Your body’s going into shock. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No. Why?”
“I’ve seen soldiers look fine on the outside but have internal injuries.
The truck took the brunt of the damage on your side, Ever.
He rammed your side for a reason. Took you to the hotel to throw us off his trail.
But the shed, why he didn’t shoot you right away .
. .” He sets me down urgently but gently on the rolling gurney that the medics brought over.
“I’m going to lift your shirt and look at your lower back. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you decent.”
He lifts my shirt.
“Fuck. Fuck!”
“What is it?” I try looking over my shoulder. My head hurts, and I grab it.
Bobby doesn’t answer my question. He’s yelling at the medics. “Call in for a medevac. She needs a trauma center. Retroperitoneal hematoma.”
“What? A what?” He’s panicking. Bobby’s panic is contagious.
“You’re bleeding behind your stomach. You have a large bruise along your side,” Bobby says near my ear.
Oh God, oh God. Bobby’s brother took me to the shed to die a slow death. That’s why he didn’t shoot me.
“You sure?” one of the medics ask.
“You betting your life on it?”
I hear the safety click. A memory surfaces.
The man with the scar transecting his face made me hold one of his large guns once.
He took off the safety and fired a shot into an old tree in the backyard.
There was no sound. When I went over his visit later, when I was twenty rather than eleven, I realized the gun had a silencer.
“No, man. I’ll call it in.”
The gurney moves. “Hang on, baby.” Bobby takes my hand and holds it tightly. His hand is so warm. He squeezes. I squeeze back. “Keep your promise, Ever. Live for me.”
“Always.”