Chapter 21 #2
The room wavered, and Pyro blinked, bringing everything back into focus. He was running on pure adrenaline, and they both knew it. All the man had to do was keep Pyro on his feet for a few more minutes and he’d pass out from lack of blood. Then he could go in for the kill with no interference.
The sound of the elevator’s engines humming had them both pausing for a split second.
“Sounds like the assholes upstairs finally got bored and are coming down to see what the fuck’s taking so long. You’re a dead man.”
Pyro’s lips pressed together. He could continue to fight one man for a little bit longer, but two? Or three? There was no way.
But he wasn’t giving up. It wasn’t in his nature. He had a future to look forward to. A family. Something he’d never had, and he wasn’t going to give it up without one hell of a fight.
The two men circled each other once more, but Pyro had to blink twice to try to rid himself of the black spots in his eyes.
As if he knew how much Pyro was struggling—which wasn’t difficult, considering how much blood he’d lost—the other man grinned. “This almost isn’t fun anymore. It’s too easy,” he taunted. His back was to the elevator as he bent his knees slightly, ready to pounce.
Pyro clenched his teeth against the pain coursing through him.
He was going to do everything in his power to take this asshole out with him.
His fingers tightened on the knife and his gaze zeroed in on the man’s throat.
All he needed was one lucky thrust and he could sever the man’s carotid artery.
Or slice through his esophagus. He normally wasn’t so bloodthirsty, but picturing a terrified Bowie in his mind did the trick, crawling across the back lawn as she blindly made her way toward the ocean.
“Bring it,” Pyro growled, narrowing his eyes.
The elevator dinged once more, and Pyro knew if he lived through this, he’d hear that sound in his nightmares.
He didn’t dare take his eyes off the knife in the other man’s hand.
He had to avoid getting hit at all costs.
He couldn’t afford to lose even one more drop of blood. Not if he wanted to live.
And Pyro wanted to live. Desperately.
“About time you got your fucking asses down here. Grab him!” Knife Man said without turning around, when the whoosh of the elevator door sounded.
“No problem,” a familiar voice drawled.
Startled, Pyro looked over his assailant’s shoulder—and saw Casper, Chaos, and Buck.
They all looked extremely pissed off.
Buck lunged, tackling the man and taking him down to the concrete floor like a sack of potatoes.
To everyone’s surprise, the guy grunted…but he didn’t fight back.
It was obvious why when Buck jumped off him, turning him over with his foot while aiming his weapon between his eyes.
No. He definitely didn’t need to worry about the man fighting back. The knife he’d been holding at the ready was now lodged in his throat—right where Pyro had been hoping to aim for next. His eyes were wide open in shock, his mouth opening and closing, making him look like a fish out of water.
Chaos leaned down to check the man lying by the elevator, the one Pyro had clocked with a chair.
Casper made a beeline for Pyro. “Stand down, soldier,” he said calmly.
Pyro hadn’t realized he was still crouched on his good leg in a fighting stance, ready to make a last stand for his life. It took a moment to understand that it was over. The men who’d kidnapped him and Bowie were either out for the count or dying, and his friends were there.
He dropped the knife he’d been holding in a death grip, and it clattered to the floor.
“Good God, it’s a bloodbath down here,” Chaos said.
Pyro glanced around. His friend wasn’t wrong. There was literally blood on almost every surface. The floor, the ceiling, the walls.
He swayed on his feet, and the blackness he’d been fighting returned with a vengeance.
“Shit, he’s going down,” Casper said.
But Pyro didn’t collapse. Casper caught him, with Chaos and Buck rushing over to help him ease Pyro to the floor.
“Bowie?” he asked desperately. “She’s out there! I sent her away.”
“Shhhh, she’s safe.”
“Safe?” he asked, almost afraid to believe what Casper was saying. He had a metric ton of guilt for what he’d done. For sending a blind six-year-old into an extremely dangerous situation. But then again, this basement hadn’t exactly been safe. Not even close.
“Yeah. She walked along the shore until she came across two men fishing. They let her use their phone to call Penny, and she told them what this house looked like. And here we are.”
Satisfaction made Pyro close his eyes in relief. He had no idea if she would suffer mentally from what he’d done, but the important thing right now was that she was physically unharmed.
“Shit, don’t close your eyes, Pyro. Look at me!”
Pyro had no idea why his team leader sounded so frantic.
“Hole in his thigh,” Buck said, as he probed his leg.
“Fuck!” Pyro swore, his eyes flying open when his friend touched his shin.
“And something’s wrong with his lower leg.”
“Yeah, that happens when some asshole hits it with a baseball bat. And before you go playing doctor, my knee’s fucked too,” Pyro said, sounding pissy even to himself.
Casper was already working to put a tourniquet on his upper leg, to staunch the flow of blood from the stab wound. It was much like a tornado alarm sounding after the tornado had already blown through a community, but Pyro wasn’t going to complain.
The sound of the elevator once more coming to life had Pyro swearing.
“Easy. We left Obi-Wan upstairs. He wouldn’t let anyone slip by him.”
But to be on the safe side, Buck and Chaos stood between Casper, Pyro, and the elevator, pointing their weapons at anyone who might appear.
Time seemed to stop as the four men waited to see who would exit the door. But Pyro once more shut his eyes. He was at the end of his rope. Tired. So damn tired. He’d done what he’d vowed to do when this nightmare started…protected Bowie to the best of his ability.
“Police, drop it!”
“Put down the weapons!”
Pyro sensed the tension around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Bowie was safe. Nothing else mattered.
“They’re down.”
“Don’t shoot, we’re the frickin’ good guys!”
His teammates’ voices seemed as if they were coming from far away.
“Pyro, open your damn eyes!”
Shit, his team leader was annoying. But Pyro did what Casper told him to anyway.
“You have to stay awake, bro. That’s an order, you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Pyro said, his voice slurring.
“Get a medic down here immediately.”
“No time for that. We’ll bring him up to them.”
“Jones, start documenting the scene. I want pictures of this shitshow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is the guy cuffed to the pipe alive?”
“Yeah. So is the one by the elevator. Just unconscious.”
“Okay, send a medic down after you get up there with him.”
The conversations between the police officers and his team sounded muted. As if his ears were clogged and he was watching them from far away.
“We’re going to lift you, Pyro. Don’t put any weight on that leg, okay?”
It took him a moment to realize that Casper was talking to him. “No problem. Hurts like a motherfucker.”
“I bet. You have a hole in your thigh and a busted knee and a broken leg. Not to mention another half dozen slices on various parts of your body.”
“How the hell is he still conscious?” one of the police officers asked.
“Because he’s a Night Stalker. And Night Stalkers don’t quit. And because he’s a tough son-of-a-bitch.”
Pyro didn’t feel tough. He felt like shit.
All he wanted to do was sleep. But when Casper and Buck lifted him and put his arms around their shoulders, wrapping their own around his waist to keep him upright, the only thing on his mind was trying not to puke.
The only reason he didn’t was because he had nothing in his belly to throw up.
One of the police officers joined him and the other three Night Stalkers in the elevator and they made their way back up to the main floor of the house.
When the doors opened, Pyro saw the looks of shock on the faces of the paramedics who were waiting.
Then they got to work, wheeling a gurney over to where his friends were basically carrying him.
The second Pyro was lying down, his eyes closed once more.
“Pyro!” Casper barked. “What did I order?”
With effort, Pyro slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry and his head felt stuffed. “Trying.”
“Try harder!”
There was a commotion in the room—and Pyro heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
Penny.
“Pyro?! Oh my God!”
Then she was there, leaning over his upper chest and face as the paramedics worked on cutting off his pants and getting an IV started in his arm on the opposite side from where she stood.
Pyro was confused. What was Penny doing here? She shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t safe!
“Not safe,” he managed to whisper.
“Yes it is,” she countered. “There are police everywhere. And of course your team. It’s over. Tex made sure Colvin’s going to prison. He won’t be coming after me or Bowie again.”
Relief swam through Pyro’s veins. “Bowie’s okay?”
“She’s perfect,” Penny told him quietly.
His gaze narrowed to her face, to the love he saw in her eyes. It was as if they were the only two people in the world, even though they were surrounded by strangers and friends alike.
“You saved her. Protected her. She’s already acting as if she just had a big adventure. I love you so much.”
“Love you too,” Pyro said.
“His blood pressure’s dropping,” one of the medics said.
Pyro barely registered the words. All he knew was that Bowie was safe and Penny loved him.
“Hang on, Kylo,” she said urgently.
Pyro felt her lips on his forehead. His eyes had shut once more, but he had no energy to open them again.
“And for the record, my answer is yes, I’ll marry you. Bowie informed me that she wants her name to match her Mommy and Daddy’s, and who am I to disappoint her? Don’t stop fighting, Kylo. We need you.”
Her words echoed in his head for a moment, before he finally gave in to the lure of sweet oblivion.