72. Beckett
Beckett
“I’m okay,” she says it again, knowing I need to hear it.
But I continue to hold her against me, needing to feel her heartbeat against my own.
Covered in mud, soaked through with lake water, the cold hasn’t quite caught up to me yet, the adrenaline still coursing through my blood.
“He-” her voice hitches, “He’s still in there.”
“Good.” I whisper back. Knowing exactly what it means that he hasn’t surfaced.
I caught enough glimpses of him through the back window while I was chasing after them that I was able to recognize the man as Mr. Olson. And fury thunders through my veins.
She starts to tremble, “He had a knife.”
I pull myself back just enough to look at her. Flashing lights of arriving emergency vehicles streak through the night, but it’s not enough to illuminate her face completely.
“Did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head.
“Elouise.”
Her trembling fingers reach up to touch the side of her neck, “Just a little bit. ”
My teeth grind, and when she starts to cry again, I pull her back into my chest.
“It’s over now.” I glare at the lake. “It’s over now.”
The motherfucker is surely dead by now. And I don’t feel the least bit sorry. If he were to break through the surface of the water now, I’d swim out there and drown him myself for what he put Elouise through. For whatever he was planning to do.
I press my lips to the top of Elouise’s head.
The flashing lights are right on top of us now, and someone calls down from the road. After tucking Elouise’s head into my body, so I’m not shouting into her ear, I yell up to let them know we’re okay.
The slope is too steep and we’re too wet and muddy to climb up on our own. So I wrap my woman in my arms, giving her as much body heat as I can, while we wait for help.
When the first responders reach us, I have to force my arms to unlock from around Elouise so they can bring her up before me.
She tries to put up a fight when they tell her they’ll bring her up on the stretcher, but when I say please, she gives in.
The few minutes she’s out of my sight, my anxiety flares back to life.
Gripping the lowered safety rope with my frozen hands, I frantically scramble up the bank.
But I don’t have to search for Elouise. Because the stubborn woman is standing, arguing with a paramedic who is trying to get her into the back of an ambulance.
“Babe, you need to get checked out.”
Elouise turns at the sound of my voice and the look on her face breaks my heart all over again.
I open my arms and in two steps she’s colliding with my chest.
“I want to go home,” her words are quiet and I hug her tighter.
“I need you to get looked at. I won’t be able to settle down until you do.”
Her chest heaves against mine, and I know she’ll agree because I asked her.
I look over her head to the medic, “Can you treat her here?”
I can tell he wants to argue, but he nods .
Cupping Elouise’s cheek, I give her a nudge until she looks up at me, “He’ll look you over in the ambulance. But if he says you need to go to the hospital, then we’re going.”
She blinks up at me, “Okay.”
Someone hands over a jug of water, and we use it to clean the worst of the mud off. The room temperature liquid feels almost warm cutting through our current chill. And I know we need to get out of the elements soon or else we’ll end up with hypothermia.
There’s a commotion on the hill leading down to the lake.
Elouise starts to turn towards the sound, but I catch her by the shoulders and turn her towards me.
Her lip wobbles and I don’t know if it’s from cold or emotion, “Is it him?”
I slide my hands up until I’m holding her face still, then move my eyes over her shoulder.
A handful of first responders crest the edge of the road, pulling a stretcher up with them.
Once they’re all up, they lift the stretcher and carry it to the back of the other ambulance.
A few emergency flood lights have been set up, making it easy to see the hilt of the knife protruding from the dead man’s chest.
Some part of my brain is telling me I should be repulsed by the sight, but the knife sticking out of his heart is the same knife that threatened Elouise’s life. And if it wouldn’t land me in cuffs, I’d jerk that blade free just to stab him all over again.
I press my lips to her forehead, holding them there until the ambulance doors close on Mr. Olson’s corpse.
“He’s gone.”
She shakes her head, “I don’t get it. He always seemed nice…”
I kiss her again, “Later.”
Guiding her into the ambulance, I follow her in and sit down next to her. The heated air swirls around us as the medic checks vitals, asking Elouise questions and cleaning the cuts on her neck.
With no signs of a concussion and no need for stitches he reluctantly lets us go.
Of course, the cops stop us, needing questions answered.
With Elouise visibly shivering, I’m able to convince them to follow us to her house, so we can shower off the rest of the mud and warm up.
I help Elouise up into my truck and reach across to buckle her seatbelt. I wish there was a way to get her home without putting her right back into a vehicle, but there’s no other option.
She shivers, and I adjust the air vents so they’re blowing their hot air directly at her. “Sorry Babe, I wish I had another blanket in here for you.”
She holds her hand out over the vent, “It’s okay we’ll-” she cuts off and looks over at the lake, “Your sleeping bags!”
“Uh,” I glance out to where her eyes are pointing. “What?”
Her eyes hold far too much sadness when she looks up at me, “Your sleeping bags are still in my trunk.” She sniffles. “I meant to give them back to you. I’m so sorry.”
The tears break loose again and I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
“Smoky,” I kiss the salty streaks off her cheeks, “I can buy more sleeping bags.”
“But-”
I shake my head, “No buts.” My thumb runs over her skin again and I want to see her smile so badly. “I can buy a whole store of sleeping bags. I’m rich. Remember, Baby?”
Instead of smiling she just nods like I’m being serious, “I remember.”
Pressing a soft kiss to her mouth, I decide I’ll only make it through the rest of the night if I focus on one task at a time.
And right now, it’s getting us home.