Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
M allory
Huh. The light had flicked on over the front door. I needed to change the photocell into something less sensitive. Another item placed on the to-do list.
I pulled into my driveway, thankful to be home.
Like clockwork, the snow had begun to fall only minutes before. Thank God it wasn’t a whiteout, but by morning, the ground would be covered by several inches of white stuff. I grabbed my boots from the truck, swinging my purse over my shoulder and grabbing the bag of food. Thankfully, I had enough supplies to last for a couple of days and hopefully by then, the roads would be plowed.
At least the township was good about that.
The air was chilly-willy as my dad used to say as I scampered toward the door, now wishing my father had invested in a garage instead of a barn fifty yards away. The light popped on over the door like normal and right now, I was grateful for its sensitivity. With the door unlocked, I rushed in, also thankful for heat. While the heating bills were high, something I’d also need to deal with by having additional insulation installed, that wouldn’t be until spring and I was constantly cold.
The only thing I hadn’t organized was a delivery of firewood. I’d call a company over the weekend.
If the phone lines were operational.
I laughed. When someone said the town wasn’t in the boonies, I’d always told them they’d never lived through a Vermont winter.
As soon as I closed the door behind me, I realized just how dark the house was. Hadn’t I left a light on over the stove? I thought I had. There was nothing worse than coming home in the dark.
I had my reasons why.
A cold and determined shiver raced down my spine. I could work myself into a near panic within seconds thinking about the story I’d concocted about Beckett and the hunters . Whatever issues he was dealing with had nothing to do with me. I dropped the boots in the small foyer, feeling my way toward the kitchen.
If there was one thing that could be said about me, it was that I was extremely observant. That included paying attention not only to sights, but to sounds as well. Every house made sounds of their own and when homeowners turned off their televisions, fans, and other noise-making devices, they would hear a glorious, albeit quiet symphony of sounds.
The farmhouse my father had designed and had built had exposed beams in the ceilings and several walls. With expansion and contraction, creaks of every kind were often heard, differing depending on the time of year. A few floorboards creaked where nails had come loose. I knew where to avoid stepping on them and had since I’d lived here before.
There were also two windows that needed to be replaced and a couple of times I’d caught wind whistling through the cracks in the weather stripping. There was also a single faucet that needed to be tightened or to be replaced as water dripped continuously throughout the day and night. Thank God the faucet wasn’t located near the bedroom where I slept, or I’d have yanked it out myself.
The sounds gave the house character. At least according to my father.
The noise I heard had nothing to do with the joys of home ownership. It was entirely and completely manmade.
And it included the arming of a weapon.
I should have paid attention to the light outside. It had been a warning.
I lunged forward, crashing down on the floor just outside the kitchen. A high-pitched scream rushed from my lungs, but it was quickly cut short by my head and body being jerked back by my hair. I used the bag of food as a weapon, pummeling it over my shoulder.
The deep grunt indicated contact, so I kept bashing the attacker.
When the asshole’s full body weight shifted, I scrambled forward, almost making it to the kitchen counter before my hair was snagged again, this time the asshole snapping me back against the wall in the foyer.
Gasping, I pitched my hands out, able to shove him aside and jumped further into the room. I was briefly disoriented, which was just enough time for the attacker to grab me all over again.
“No!” I fought with everything I had, gasping for air as I tried to make my way to the butcher block.
Suddenly, anguish exploded in the side of my head from a backhand or punch and I was tossed to the floor. The air ripped from my lungs, I tried to remain conscious, clawing my way by a few inches.
“Bitch.” It was the single word he said and likely the last one I’d ever hear.
Nothing could have prepared me for either the sounds or understanding of what happened next.
Someone came to my rescue.
Someone huge and formidable, yanking the full weight of the man attacking me off as if the son of a bitch was nothing but a rag doll. The brutal thud as the assailant’s body was tossed against the wall became a call to action. I scrambled to get further away from the carnage, the air stolen from my lungs. I’d never felt so weak or disoriented in my life.
I managed to use the kitchen counter to hoist myself to a standing position, my body swaying back and forth as my foggy brain tried to process what was going on.
The horrible sounds of a savage fight continued and a small part of me was praying my hero was winning. Every grunt and moan of agony was exaggerated, echoing in my ears. The ringing was tremendous, my head aching to the point I was having difficulty catching my breath.
Every action I took seemed to be in slow motion, but I was finally able to turn the light on over the stove. As I swung around, I grabbed a butcher knife from the block, now gasping for air and so lightheaded I was certain I’d pass out.
The two figures were enshrouded in shadows, both throwing punches relentlessly. It was impossible to know who was winning. When one of the two lifted the other in the air, dragging him further into the kitchen and slamming the man’s face onto the table several times, the entire kitchen was jarred from the brutal actions. Everything on the tabletop flew onto the floor, the single glass I’d forgotten about from the morning smashing into a hundred pieces.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the melee, the fight so powerful and every action so quickly maneuvered, the entire scene unfolding in front of me was one huge blur.
The man beaten to a pulp and tossed on the table tried to fight back, using his heavy bulk to drive the other man away. Yet the larger of the two, the one I sensed was winning managed to throw his muscular arm around the other man’s neck, jerking back with his full weight as another weapon.
Snap.
The hard cracking sound didn’t need light or an explanation.
The poor bastard’s neck had been broken.
I held the knife in both hands, fighting to keep from whimpering. Whoever had won the fight had me cornered. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
The survivor was huge and through the ugly haze of my terror, I couldn’t help but wonder if his large frame had fit through my doorway without adding destruction to the mix. The thought was ridiculous, but a reminder I was alive and there was a dead guy crumpled on the floor in the middle of my kitchen.
My gaze lingered to the heap on the floor until a hard thud dragged my eyes toward the second attacker who remained alive.
I swung the knife in front of me, an instant snarl forming on my lips. “You better get out of here. I’ve already called the police.”
A few seconds passed and the unknown stranger remained in the shadows, the dim light only accentuating one side of his face. At least it was easy to tell he was rugged.
Why was he remaining completely silent?
He took another step and I crowded closer to the backside of my counters.
“Just go. I won’t say anything.” The strong tone in my voice was fading. Why had this man killed the other if he only intended on taking my life in the end?
He remained in the shadows, the only real movement I could see the rise and fall of his chest. I had two choices. I could try to run around him, bolting for the door. Or I could use the weapon on him. There were two problems, the first being I’d never manage to leave the premises before he grabbed me.
The second weighed heavily on my mind.
I couldn’t injure someone on purpose even if it meant possibly saving my life. I just wasn’t made that way.
But he didn’t know that. The third choice was ugly, but the only one I could make.
As my best friends would say, fake it ‘til you made it.
I lunged forward, wielding the knife with both hands, a primal roar in my throat. Pinging sensations in the back of my mind told me exactly who’d saved my life.
He snagged me easily before I got within a foot of him, snapping his hand around my wrist and holding my arm into the air as he pried the rather dull blade from my fingers with the other.
Then he pushed me back against the stove, the move finally illuminating the man who’d likely saved my life.
Beckett.
Beckett
I had to admire the doc’s chutzpa. Few people after being brutally attacked would have enough clear thinking left to organize a method of killing a possible second attacker. However, the moment I’d caught the whites of her eyes, I’d known she wouldn’t have gone through with driving the blade in.
Even so, I wrenched the knife from her hand, tossing it onto the floor several feet away.
Her breathing remained ragged as she continued to fight my hold.
“Slow down,” I barked.
“Fuck you. What’s going on? Who was that?”
“A very bad man.”
Mallory’s body was shaking and she managed to break free, stumbling backwards.
“I’m curious, doll face. Do you have a clue who that man is?”
“Are you fucking out of your mind? I came home to him being inside my house! My house.”
My thoughts drifted to the photograph.
“Look closely.” I turned on a light and she immediately winced seeing the angle of the man’s head where I’d snapped his neck.
She looked away and I closed the distance, forcing her to look at him. “He’s remarkably similar to a man you took a picture with.”
Her eyes opened wide, and she smashed her fists against my chest. “What the hell are you trying to say?”
Her reaction wasn’t faked. I allowed my gaze to travel over the length of her body, hissing the moment I noticed blood.
“You’re hurt,” I told her. Seeing the bloody gash near her scalp, the desire to kill the man all over again swept through me.
She acted as if she had no idea what I was talking about, instead staring at the blood soaking my shirt. “You broke through the stitches. We need to fix them. You could get an infection.”
I almost laughed. I had no way of knowing whether she’d initially been working with the mystery assailant and had killed someone right in front of her, but she was concerned about my health. I wasn’t certain what to think about her motivations other than she was either a damn good actress or she was clueless what the hell was going on. “I’m fine.”
Exhaling, she pressed her fingers to the gash, a single, very slight tic of fear appearing in the corner of her mouth when she pulled her hand away. “I’m fine also. Just get out.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
That was the moment she looked me directly in the eyes, matching my stern gaze. Few men were capable of doing so and she’d done it several times since we’d met.
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s apparent you’re in danger.” I decided to follow my gut on my thoughts. It was entirely possible the two of us had been seen together, which would present a problem. A serious one. Whoever was behind these attacks would use her to get to me. Fuck. This was the last place I wanted to find myself.
It took a few seconds for her to process what I was saying.
Mallory struggled, attempting to free herself from my hold. She was no real danger to me, but for some reason, her actions made me grip her that much more forcefully. As anyone in her situation would be, her breathing was ragged, perspiration clinging to her upper lip. I was forced to grab her wrist again to keep her from hurting herself any further.
She pressed her free hand against my chest and the magnetic draw of our combined chemistry sparked.
“You killed him. Why?” she asked and I was further impressed by her demanding tone. Plus, I was drawn to the way her jaw had clenched as well as her ability to resist reacting to the shot of electricity.
“Isn’t that obvious? He had designs on killing you.”
“Why?”
“I was going to ask you the same question. Now, if you’ll step away and promise not to reach for any other weapons, I’ll let you go.”
She eyed me warily just like she should be doing, but nodded. I sensed her terror, but she was far too busy attempting to figure out what was going on to allow the fear to crowd out her curious mind.
That would come when the adrenaline rush wore down.
I let her go.
I also underestimated her.
She tried to slap me.
My reaction instant, I grabbed her around the waist, spinning her body so her back was against my chest. “Perhaps you misunderstood me.”
“Not in the least. Why are you here?”
“I think you should be thankful that I was.” The scent of her hair was far too enticing.
“Thankful? You killed a man. You broke his neck. I don’t know what to think.”
“Then that makes two of us, Doc.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means I’m curious as to why a man you obviously knew fairly well attempted to kill you.”
Her breath hitched. “What? What are you talking about? I don’t know him.”
I dragged her with me toward the body a second time. “Now that you’re calmer, why don’t you take a good look at him.” I was so used to dealing with fucking assholes, men with zero conscience and no humanity that I treated her as I’d done with dozens of enemies and traitors over the years. I forced her to witness the fate of those considered damned and useless.
I turned her once again, wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck, manipulating her head so she’d be required to stare down at the dead man’s body. No one had ever accused me of being a nice guy, but the moment I processed his neck was twisted at an entirely incorrect angle, I pulled her away, this time easing her around gently to face me.
Seeing the look in her eyes would tell me almost everything including the truth.
They were glassing over, her pupils becoming dilated. Fear could very easily do that to a person, but as I watched her reactions, a strange and entirely new sense of protectiveness washed through me.
“Who is he, Doc? What does he want?”
“I don’t know him.” She was far too calm, detached.
Also not a good sign.
I had a firm grip on both her arms and instinctively knew if I didn’t, she’d either slump to the floor or against me. A single trickle of blood flowed from her wound. “We’re going to try this once again. What is your relationship and what did he hire you to do?”
“I’m telling you this one last time. I do not. Know. That. Man.”
She continued trembling in my hold and I sensed the armor locked tightly around her was slowly being corroded away. She wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever and when it fell, there was no telling just how much she’d end up freaking out, but that’s exactly what she’d do.
“He just surprised me. I came home and…” The furrowed look of her brow added another layer of concern.
“And what, Mallory? Tell me what happened.”
When she swallowed, her lower lip was trembling. “I, um…”
My actions gentler than was typical, I slipped a single finger under her chin, lifting until I was able to see her eyes all over again.
That was the moment her body gave way to the temptation of darkness.