Chapter Thirty #2
She took a flashlight and slipped out quietly. She had to do something, anything to help hold back the fear for Brian, for Nathan. For all of them.
What if Nathan was shot too, lying out there bleeding, dying? There was nothing she could do to stop it. And how could she live if she only stood by?
He’s taken shelter, she promised herself, as she hurried down the stairs. He’d taken shelter, and when the worst of the storm had passed, she’d find him. They’d get Brian to the mainland, to a hospital.
She jolted at the loud crack, the crashing of glass. Her mind froze, envisioning another bullet, more flesh ripped by steel. Then she saw the splintered plywood in the parlor window, the flood of rain that poured in where the tree limb had snapped through it.
She grabbed a lantern, lighting it and holding it high. She would have to find Giff. As soon as she took the light to Kirby, they would have to get more wood, block the damage before it was irreparable.
When she whirled back, he was there.
“This is nice.” Kyle stepped forward into the light. “I was just coming up to get you. No, don’t scream.” He lifted the gun so she could see it clearly. “I’ll kill whoever comes down to see what was wrong.” He smiled widely. “So, how’s your brother doing?”
“He’s holding on.” She lowered the lantern so the shadows deepened. Beside her, the storm blasted through the splintered wood and spit rain into her face. “It’s been a long time, Kyle.”
“Not all that long, in the grand scheme of things. And I’ve been in close touch, so to speak, for months. How did you like my work?”
“It’s ... competent.”
“Bitch.” The word was quick and vicious, then he shrugged. “Come on, be honest, that last print. You have to admit the creativity of the image, the blending of old and new. It’s one of my best studies.”
“Clichéd at best. Where’s Nathan, Kyle?”
“Oh, I imagine he’s just where I left him.
” He darted a hand out, quick as a snake, and gripped her by the hair.
“For once, I’m not going to worry about taking my big brother’s leftovers.
The way I look at it, he was just . . . tenderizing you.
I’m much better than he is, at everything. Always have been.”
“Where is he?”
“Maybe I’ll show you. We’re going for a little ride.”
“Out in this?” She feigned resistance as he pulled her to the door. She wanted him out, away from Sanctuary, whatever it took. “You have to be crazy to go out in a category three.”
“What I am, darling, darling Jo, is strong.” He skimmed his lips over her temple. “Powerful. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you until everything is perfect. I’ve planned it out. Open the door.”
The lights flashed on. Using the split second of diversion, she swung back with the flashlight, aiming for the groin, but bouncing hard off his thigh.
Still, he grunted in pained surprise and loosened his grip.
Ripping away, Jo tore open the front door and rushed out into the teeth of the storm.
“You want me, you son of a bitch, you come get me.”
The minute he barreled through the door, she was pitting her will against the gale, and fighting to lead him away from Sanctuary.
The rain-lashed darkness swallowed them.
It was less than a minute later when Giff climbed the steps from the basement.
He felt the wild gust of wind the instant he turned into the hall.
The front door was open wide to the driving rain.
With his blood cold, he pulled out the gun he’d tucked in the waistband of his jeans, flicked off the safety, and moved forward.
His finger wrapped around the trigger, trembled a breath away from full pressure when Nathan fell through the door.
“Jo Ellen. Where is she?”
“What happened to you?” Hating himself, but unwilling to risk, Giff kept the gun aimed as he walked forward.
“I was coming, my brother ...” He swayed to his feet, brushed a hand over the raw wound on his temple as his vision doubled. “It was my brother.”
“I thought you said he was dead.”
“He’s not.” Shaking his head clear, Nathan focused on the gun. “He’s not,” he repeated. “Where’s Jo?”
“She’s fine and safe and going to stay that way. Brian was shot.”
“God. Oh, God. Is he dead?”
“Kirby’s working on him. Step away from the door, Nathan. Close it behind you. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Goddamn it.” He bit off the words as he heard the scream. The blood that had risen to his head to throb blindingly drained. “That’s Jo. She’s out there.”
“You move, I’ll have to shoot you.”
“He’s going to kill her. I’m not going to let that happen to her. I’m not letting it happen again. For God’s sake, Giff, help me find her before he does.”
It was a choice between instinct and caution. Giff prayed the choice was the right one and held the gun butt out. “We’ll find her. He’s your brother. You do what you have to do.”
* * *
JO bit back another scream as a limb as thick as a man’s torso crashed inches from her feet.
It was all swirling dark, roaring sound and wild, tearing wind.
Tattered hunks of moss bulleted past her face.
Saw palmettos rattled like sabers. Stumbling, she fought for another inch, another foot while the wind raked at her.
Finally, she dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around the base of a tree, afraid she would simply be ripped apart.
She’d led him away, she prayed she’d led him away, but now she was lost. The forest was shuddering with greedy violence. Rain came at her like knives, stabbing her flesh. She couldn’t hear her own breathing now, though she knew it must be harsh and fast because her lungs were on fire.
She had to get back, she had to get back home before he gave up his search. If he got back before she did, he would kill them all. As he’d surely killed Nathan. Sobbing, she began to crawl, digging her hands into the mud to pull her body along inch by straining inch.
* * *
INSIDE, Kirby clamped off the tube that was transferring Sam’s blood to Brian.
She couldn’t risk taking any more until Sam had rested.
“Sam needs fluids, and some protein. This has sapped his strength. Juice,” she began, wearily stretching her back before she lowered her hand to take Brian’s pulse.
When his fingers bumped hers, her eyes flew to his face.
She caught the faint flutter of his lashes.
“He’s coming around. Brian, open your eyes, Brian. Come back now. Concentrate on opening your eyes.”
“Is he all right? Is he going to be all right?” Lexy crowded closer, her shoulder bumping Kirby’s.
“His pulse is a little stronger. Get me the BP cuff. Brian, open your eyes now. That’s the way.” Her throat burned as she watched his eyes open, struggle to focus. “Take it easy, take it slow. I don’t want you to move. Just try to bring my face into focus. Can you see me?”
“Yeah.” The pain was outrageous, an inferno in his chest. Dimly he thought he heard someone weeping, but Kirby’s eyes were dry and clear.
“Good.” Her hand trembled a little, but she steadied it to shine a light in his eyes. “Just lie still, let me check you over.”
“What happened?”
“You were hurt, baby.” Weeping helplessly, Kate took his hand and lowered her cheek to it. “Kirby’s fixing you up.”
“Fuzzy,” he managed, turning his head restlessly.
He saw his father’s face, pale and exhausted, then the tube that connected them.
“Hurts like a bitch,” he said, then watched in amazement as Sam covered his face with his hands and shook with sobs.
“What the hell’s going on. What?” He sank back, weak as a baby under Kirby’s firm hands.
“I said lie still. I’m not having you undo all my work here. I’ll give you something for the pain in just a minute. Blood pressure’s coming back up. He’s stabilizing.”
“Can I get some water or something? I feel like I’ve been . . .” He trailed off as it snapped back to his mind. The figure on the road, the dull glint of a gun, the explosion in his chest. “Shot. He shot me.”
“Kirby and Giff found you,” Lexy told him, struggling to reach around and take his other hand. “They brought you home. She saved your life.”
“It was Kyle. Kyle Delaney.” The pain was coming in waves now, making his breath short. “I recognized him. His eyes. He had sunglasses on before. He was ... the day I cut my hand. It was Kyle in there with you. He was with you.”
“The artist?” Kirby lowered the hypo she’d prepared. “The beach bum?”
“It was Kyle Delaney. He’s been here all along.”
“Hold still. Hold him still, Lexy. Damn it, Brian.” Frightened by his struggles to get up, Kirby plunged the needle into him with more haste than finesse. “You’ll start the bleeding up again, damn it. Help me here, Kate, he’ll hurt himself before the drug can take effect.”
Kate pressed her hand on Brian’s shoulder and looked with frightened eyes around the room. “Where’s Jo? Where is Jo Ellen?”
* * *
LOST, lost in the dark and the cold. She wondered if the wind was dying down or if she was just so used to its nasty buffeting that she no longer felt it trying to kill her.
She tried to imagine herself springing to her feet and running, she wanted to will herself to try it, but was too weak, too tired to do more than belly along the ground.
She’d lost all sense of direction, and was afraid she would end up crawling blindly into the river to drown. But she wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop, as long as there was a chance of reaching home.
And if she was lost, he might be lost as well.
Another tree crashed somewhere behind her, falling with a force that shook the ground.
She thought she heard someone call her name, but the wind ripped the sound away.
He would call her, she thought, as her teeth began to chatter.
He would call her hoping she’d give herself away so that he could kill her as he had the others. As his father had killed her mother.
She was nearly tired enough to let him. But she wanted him dead more.