THIRTY-EIGHT
My heart hammersas white-hot pain slices through my side. My vision darkens around the edges as I blink, looking down. A damp patch blooms on my right side, soaking through the black T-shirt. Lifting my head, I watch Beckham barrel into Brian with an animalistic roar. The two hit the floor, Beck taking quick advantage of finding himself on top, as it allows him to slug Brian in the jaw. Blood spurts from Brian’s mouth, painting his teeth an ugly red.
Another shot goes off, and my world spins, not knowing where the gun was aimed. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, even though the reality is that it’s happening too fast for me to keep up. Megan and Chase both let out blood curdling shrieks and duck. My eyes widen, seeing that the bullet has plowed into the wall over their heads. Over. My. Child’s. Head. A red haze obscures my vision.
I let out a bellow, and Beck must sense what I need because he shifts out of the way. I land on Brian with deadly force. He lets out a loud grunt as I pin him to the ground with my knee. My right hand clamps down on his throat and begins to squeeze so hard he can’t get out more than a gurgle. One singular thing runs through my mind: I might get a chance to choke the life out of this sadistic asshole.
The gun, though—I need to fucking control it before he gets another shot off. I grab Brian’s wrist and slam it into the ground, wincing at the pain that rips across the bottom of my rib cage as I do so. Biting back a groan, I apply pressure to his arm at the same time I tighten my hold on his throat. Brian loses his grip on the weapon, and it clatters to the hardwood floor.
“Got him?” Beckham asks, and I nod grimly. Regret floods my body as I make the choice to remove my hand from Brian’s throat to take control of his other arm. As soon as I give Beckham the go-ahead, he gets up and goes for the gun.
As I continue to struggle with Brian, twinges of agony ripple along my skin while Beckham advances on Megan. “Don’t make me shoot you. Let Chase go.”
Chase squirms, sobbing in Megan’s arms as she gets up, eyes wild, and begins moving toward the door. It feels like she’s reaching inside my chest and clawing pieces of my heart out with every step she takes in retreat.
“I could snap his neck.” The odd light in her eyes tells me she’s dead serious.
Chase lets out a heart wrenching wail. “I want my mama! Nooo! Daddy!”
The entire world will stop if she hurts him. My chest heaves as I let out one strangled breath after another. I will fucking end her in the most heinous way possible. I will tear her perverted limbs from her predatory body.
Beckham takes a step toward her and hisses out, “You’re scaring him. Don’t do this.”
“Let me leave, and you can have him.” Her lips twist cruelly. “Make me fight for it, and I’ll take him with me. I’ve got the keys to the van in my pocket.” Her gaze shifts to me. “How’d that roll across the pavement feel? I wish I had fucking hit you.”
Bitch.My jaw works to the side as I stare at the lunatic with our child’s life in her hands. “Put my boy down.” The words rip from my throat, raw and untamed. “Things will go better for you if you cooperate now. Things aren’t going to end well as it is. But maybe they’ll go easier on you if you were to let him go.” I clench my teeth, sucking air in, agony filling me from the heated burn at my side. I don’t give a fuck about myself. I would take a thousand bullets if it kept Chase safe. But Megan’s been steadily moving this entire time, and she’s almost to the fucking door.
“Stop this insanity, Megan. At this point, you’re in control of how this goes down.” Beckham’s voice is raspy and low, his attention never wavering from her. “But you’re not getting away with anything, so use your fucking head.”
As she slicks her tongue over her upper lip, she focuses on him again. “It’s nice to see you again, Beckham. I was so sad when your daddy took you away from me. Even sadder when I realized it was you who turned me in.”
“Did you put those fucking photos in our house?” Beckham has the gun at his side, doing his best to conceal it from Chase, but still keeping it at the ready. And I know my friend. He’s waiting for the best moment to make his move. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect our boy.
“Those photos are memories of some good times, aren’t they?” She gives him a smile that I can’t describe as anything but sick. “But no, that was Freya who snuck in and did that. Stupid girl. All she had to do was lure this little guy away with some candy or some shit like that and she wouldn’t have had to die. She was supposed to have skipped the party that night to do it, but she refused. I told Brent when she dug her heels in that we couldn’t trust her. She tried to make up for it by plastering those photos of you all over your walls for your entire fraternity to see, but… no.” Shaking her head, she lets out a disturbing cackle. “Not nearly good enough.” She takes another step backward, standing on the threshold of the cabin.
“Nooo!” Chase shrieks, his innocent eyes wide and scared. “Mama! Daddy!”
My heart is crushed. I don’t know where Echo is or if she’s okay. And I hate that these moments of terror could be the first real memory our son has. “Chase, baby. Look at Daddy. It’s gonna be okay.” My poor little guy, his lip quivers, but he nods, his eyes locked on me and the gurgling Brian, who continues to try to buck me off. Too bad for him, Wilder and I train for shit like this… and this is one fight I fuckin’ guarantee I won’t lose.
“Beck, if she tries to leave?—”
“I know.”
In the midst of this, Smith groans and begins to sit up. “Don’t you fucking move,” I hiss.
“I’m not helping them any longer. I ju?—”
“You just nothing. If you know what’s good for you, roll to your stomach and put your hands behind your head. Stay there until we tell you otherwise.”
“Megan,” Beckham growls, baring his teeth, “I have no fucking problem shooting you.”
Shifting around, I look over my shoulder to put eyes on the psychotic pedophile, wondering whether I’m going to have to let this fucker go to help Chase. There’s no question I will do whatever I have to do to keep him safe. But at the same second I’m about to release Brian, Echo and Wilder appear behind Megan at the doorway.
“She’s not going anywhere.” Echo’s intensity is downright terrifying. “You feel that, you crazy bitch? That’s the muzzle of a gun in your back. And if you think I’d hesitate after the damage you’ve done, you can fucking think again.” From the way Megan’s back arches before she stumbles forward into the room, I think Echo must have dug that cold metal in, forcing her to move.
I heave out an agonized breath, watching as Wilder sidesteps both of them. He gets right in Megan’s face. “Let. Him. Go.” Those dark eyes of his bore into hers. “Unless you think we’re fucking around,” he seethes. “Then by all means, go ahead and find out.” A second later, she loosens her grip, though her lips maintain a petulant twist.
A sigh of relief bursts from me as Wilder takes Chase from her. My son clings to him like a monkey, gripping him with arms and legs.
Brian chooses that moment to attempt to buck me off, so I have to tear my eyes from the action behind me. Suddenly, though, he stops.
“You disgusting creep,” Echo mutters, appearing over my shoulder, weapon in hand, “stop moving.”
Brian glances at her, blatantly disrespectful before snarling, “Or what?”
“Or I’ll end you.” She huffs out a laugh, aiming the weapon right at his face. “You think I wouldn’t? You beat your wife. You hurt my sister. You threatened your brother-in-law. And heaven help you, you kidnapped my child.” She disengages the safety and slides her finger to the trigger. He stills. “In what world does it not make sense for me to put a bullet between your eyeballs?”
Now that Brian isn’t fighting me, I glance over my shoulder to make sure Beckham still has Megan under control, which he does, then swing my head around to see Wilder checking on Kara.
“You’re gonna be fine. Maybe a lump on the head. I’m gonna get you free of the rope.” Hurrying, he unties her, then juts his chin toward Megan as he throws the first couple pieces to Beckham. “Tie her up.”
Beckham doesn’t hesitate, a grim, but determined look on his face as he secures his childhood tormentor.
While Beckham’s busy with her, Wilder frees his sister, talking softly to her. Chase maintains a death grip on him, which is kinda handy, as it gives him both hands to work.
I know I can’t deal with Brian myself. The fucker is a brute, and it’s all I’ve been able to do to keep him restrained, especially with the fire roaring at my rib cage. I glance down. There’s blood on the floor under me. I heave out a breath, close my eyes for a second.
When I open them, Wilder’s already turned around to talk to Beckham as he finishes up with Megan. “We left Brent outside. I knocked him out, and we belted his arms behind his back. We should get him in here.”
With Megan trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, Beckham stands, checking in with me again. I read the How bad is it? in his eyes without difficulty. I shake my head. It’s not awful, I don’t think, but it hurts like fuck. Burns like a son of a bitch. Sweat has begun to pop out on my forehead.
“Royal, are you okay if we go grab him, or should we tie up Brian first?” Wilder questions as he hands Chase off to Kara.
Beckham jerks his head, his face grim. “No, let’s tie up this asshole first.” He crosses over to the table and sets down the gun.
I catch the frown pull at Wilder’s mouth, but he hurries back to grab a few more pieces of rope. My skin has picked up a clammy feel to it as I lock eyes with Echo. “Keep that gun on him.”
She nods. “I’ve got it.” And I’ve never felt prouder of her in our lives.
Glaring at both of us, Brian clenches his teeth together before his gaze slices to Wilder. His voice scrapes out on an ugly rasp. “Gonna tell them what you did to your daddy.”
“Roll the fuck over, you asshole,” I bark, giving him a good shove to get him moving as I stand, but as he does, he tries to get his hands under his chest so he can rear up. His back meets my foot, and I slam him back down with as much force as I can muster. “Mother. Fucker.” He clearly doesn’t get that he’s not getting away with this. Not getting away physically, nor with all the suffering he’s caused.
Gasps from both Wilder and Echo alert me that they’ve finally spotted my injury, and I cover the wound with my hand, grimacing because it hurts like a bitch.
Wilder growls, “What the fuck, Royal.” Not a question, just a statement of fact that I kept it from him.
“Just tie him the fuck up, please,” I demand on a pain-filled exhale as I sit down at one of the seats at the table with a grimace.
“Oh god, Royal, why didn’t you say something?” Tonight’s been a lot, and Echo’s emotions are all over her face. She sets the gun down on the table, then swings her head to Kara. “Keep Chase over there.”
Echo’s sister nods, but it’s practically useless as he begins to squirm in her arms and cry out for us. “Daddy!” My little guy sucks in a wet breath. “Mama!”
“Chase, baby, I’ve gotta take care of Daddy.” She glances over at our son, giving him a bright smile, despite the complete shit show we’re in the middle of. But that’s what mothers do. They look out for their children like Echo did today. She could have lost it at any moment, but instead, she put on a brave face and took on those intending to harm us head-on.
Echo gingerly lifts my shirt to have a look, pulling it away from the torn skin. She winces. “Get pressure on that, Echo,” Wilder urges as Chase continues to fuss.
“It’s okay, bring him here,” I grunt as she puts her hand directly on my rib cage, holding it firmly. Her gaze narrows as she studies me, and I heave out, “Trust me.” Our eyes connect as I try to relay to her that the best thing for me might be to concentrate on something else.
She gives me a worried look, her brow furrowing, but nods. “I do. Okay, come over this way, buddy.” Kara lets him down, and Chase toddles past one tied-up person after another. People who stole him from us. It makes me want to vomit. Or maybe that’s the blood loss. He comes over to my uninjured side, and I scoop him up, letting him straddle my thigh. The poor kid must be exhausted because he rests his head against me, not saying a word, little fingers gripping my shirt. I nuzzle my nose into the hair on the top of his head, inhaling. My body immediately relaxes.
I don’t miss the look that passes between Echo and Wilder. Maybe it’s worse than I thought. With his eyes locked on the puddle of lost blood on the floor, Wilder’s voice remains calm as he murmurs, “River, Kara, can you look around for towels or anything that we can press against the wound? I’ll see what I have in the way of medical supplies in the truck.” He meets my gaze. “Gonna bring Brent in here, too. Hang in there.”
I nod, summoning as much of a smile as I can. “I’m good. Go.”
He and Beckham take off and are back only a few minutes later with a squirming Brent, who’s cursing and pissed off. “You will pay for killing my sister. All of you. I swear I will make it happen. You won’t get away with it.”
They dump him on the floor next to Brian, Smith, and Megan with an unceremonious thud. Kara hands Echo a kitchen towel that she presses to my side. Trying to keep my mind off the searing pain and blood that’s everywhere but inside my body, I grit out, “Did you happen to pay attention to what Echo’s sister said earlier? I wasn’t the one driving. So, you’ve harbored this hate for me for nothing. And the kicker is I didn’t ‘get away with it,’ as you said. I went to prison. For someone else’s crime.” My teeth grind. “You’ll be lucky if you see tomorrow’s sunrise, any of you. I can think of a lot of ways to get rid of someone.” I give them a crooked smile. “I heard a lot while I was in lockup. Learned a lot.”
There’s some shuffling as both Brian and Brent shift, glaring at me over their shoulders. Brent opens his mouth to speak, but Beckham gives him a well-placed kick to the side of his torso, making him wheeze for air. Thank fuck Chase is facing me and not watching.
“I don’t want to hear another word out of any of you. Keep your perverted, psychotic, abusive mouths shut. Now, it’s your turn to pay for your wrongdoings, motherfuckers.”
Chase has been quiet, but he looks up at me just as Wilder comes back in with some medical supplies. “Muthafucka?”
I meet Echo’s wide eyes, a look of chagrin crossing my face when she raises her brow. I wince, gently correcting our son. “Chase, that wasn’t nice of me to say. Please don’t say that again.”
He gives me a funny little grin and whispers, “Muthafucka.”
Beckham covers his mouth, trying to hide his laughter.
Leave it to the little guy to take my mind off this insanity, if only for a minute. He’s definitely my son.
I think Wilder would laugh, too, but he’s singularly focused on wearing his Nurse Wilder hat. He pulls out his keys and turns to Kara. “Would you take my sister out to the truck? She needs to rest.”
“Of course.” Kara accepts the keys, but stops beside me, her hand stroking the back of Chase’s head. She mouths, “Do you want me to take him?”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you, Kara.”
“If you need me to call anyone else, I will. Just say the word.”
Whether she means an ambulance for me, cops, or something else entirely, I’m unsure, but surveying the room… we definitely need a minute to discuss what we’re going to do.
Once they’re on their way out, Wilder places a hand on Echo’s shoulder. “I’ve got this now, baby.” She hesitates, turning her head to look up at him, and I see the emotion swimming in her eyes. Wilder presses a kiss to her temple, his chest heaving as his concern-filled eyes meet mine. “Time to let Nurse Wilder have a look.”
With a shuddery exhale, Echo draws her hand from my side and stands up, but doesn’t back away, she moves to my other side, putting an arm around my back, hugging Chase between us, then presses a desperate kiss to my lips. I can feel the way her body trembles. Her fingers rake over the hair at the back of my head, and her chest jerks with the effort it takes her not to cry. “Don’t you dare go anywhere, Royal Kaplan,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “Never. I love you, Echo. You did so fucking good.”
“Yeah, you did.” Echo turns toward Beckham’s voice, and he’s right there, waiting to enfold her in his arms. He holds her tightly, but his worried eyes are on me, strain beginning to show itself in the set of his jaw. “How are we going to handle all this?” he grits out, his gaze bouncing from me to Wilder and then Echo when she tips her head back to search his eyes.
It’s at that moment my phone buzzes in my pocket—in fact, it’s not just my phone, but Wilder’s on the table beside us and Echo’s and Beckham’s as well.
I gasp as I shift to get at it, and Wilder breaks his concentration for a second to mutter, “Hold still. Whatever it is, it can wait. We’ve got our hands full.” He clears his throat, putting the cloth back over the wound and applying pressure. “This looks mostly superficial to me, but you need an actual doctor to look at it. You’re still bleeding pretty badly.”
I grimace, trying to breathe through the burning sensation. Giving him a hard look, I rasp, “I don’t need to see anyone. I trust you.”
“I know you do, but it’ll put my mind at ease.” Wilder squeezes my thigh, his dark eyes locking on mine. “Don’t be fucking stubborn.”
I huff out a breath. “Fine.” I glance down at the same time Beckham mutters something about an unknown number. And sure enough, mine is from one, too. “Oh, hell.”
“For once, I think it’s okay, guys.” Echo looks up, her face full of relief.
“Don’t read it out loud.” The others pick up on the urgency in my voice as my gaze darts to the assorted assholes littering the floor. There’s no way in hell I’m giving these fuckers any idea that we were tipped off by an entire organization of individuals who appear dedicated to reaping karmic payback on the shitty people in this town.
Nodding, she and Beckham show each other theirs, then bring them over to show me.
You can trust the officers who show up.
Let the police take them away.
Then I glance down at mine before showing them.
Justice will be served.
Good to know. I grunt as Wilder probes my skin with his fingers. “Wilder, where’s yours?”
“Right there.” He juts his chin toward the table.
Echo snatches it up, reads, then shows it to each of us in turn.
You’ll be hearing from us soon.
A shiver runs down my spine—one of anticipation. I’ll be most interested in what they have to say, because there is zero doubt in my mind that these messages came from the Sin Keepers.
A few minutes later, colorful lights illuminate the night, a strobe effect coming in through the front windows of the cabin. Beckham walks over to take a look. “Two cop cars and a couple ambulances.”
Wilder nods. “Good. Now you don’t get to argue,” he mutters. “Beck, why don’t you go fill them in. Make sure they know Kara and River are already in the truck, but they should be examined to make sure they’re both okay.”
By the time the cops come inside, it’s clear Beckham has done just that, because they introduce themselves as Officers Minnick and Dubois and already seem to have a good grasp on what’s going on.
After that, it’s all a blur. Emergency responders take care of us while the cops ask a shit ton of questions. It’s exhausting.
Chase has the right idea. He fell asleep while I was being checked out, so when they helped me onto a gurney, they allowed him to lie cradled against my chest.
As we speed away in the ambulance, I could say I cared what was happening to the criminals that they’re hauling away, but I don’t. The Sin Keepers said justice will be served… and I’m going to choose to have faith in them. Turns out they’ve been watching over us all this time.
The craziest irony of this fucked-up situation we’ve survived is that the bullet hit me in the same exact location as my scar from the car accident. It tore right through it. It’s as if this night has brought everything full circle, closing the loop. Ending this torment. It’s over. I’ll feel one hundred percent better once we get to the hospital, and we’re all together again. And then… everything will be nice and normal from here on out.