Forty-Seven
Think, Roxy. Fucking think!
She had no idea where Neal was trying to take her, other than away. And now that they were far enough away from the house, that she didn’t have to worry about Neal doubling back to make good on his threat to go back and hurt Jodi and Serenity, adrenaline and self-preservation instincts kicked into high gear.
After he’d fired off that warning shot at her feet, she’d allowed him to drag her toward the farthest barn with minimal fight from her, attempting to lull him into a false sense of victory. But she had no idea what his plan was for her; was his goal to get her away from Travis and back somewhere where he could have her for his own? Would he kill her? Her skin crawled with the realization that she’d rather die than go back with him.
Forcing her breaths to calm and her eyes to close for the smallest span of heartbeats, she assessed her situation. Her back pressed into his side, his arm around her neck, she focused on her breathing. And reminded herself tothink.
Her gun was still clutched in his right hand, though it hung at his side, pointing toward the ground. There was a thick forest of trees that ran on the far side of the property, behind thebarn they were headed toward. Maybe he had his car hidden somewhere. Maybe she could run through the trees.
No, that would let him head back to the main house, to Jodi and Serenity. She would have to disarm him, maim him somehow. Enough to keep him down until the deputy’s backup could arrive.
As they rounded the corner of the barn, he glanced behind them, swearing viciously. She swung her head around, too, gasping as his arm tightened around her neck, but the sight that greeted her, in the split second she had… she would not go quietly.
Because the cobalt blue truck breaking through the tree lined driveway, headlights flashing through the pouring rain, gave her the smallest glimmer of hope.
Travis had come back for her.
So as Neal continued to drag her farther away, she knew what she had to do. She would fight like hell. Even if it cost her her life, she was going to fight to get back to Travis. Because he had come back for her, even after everything she’d said.
I am not going to die out here. I’m not. Fight, dammit!
“That stupid son of a bitch just can’t take a fucking hint!” Neal seethed, yanking her forward again. She slipped in the wet grass, her knees buckling, and when his right hand swung forward to steady them both from falling, she struck.
With a primal shout, she shot her elbow back, sending it on an upward trajectory with all the force she could muster. His throat took the blow and he released her on instinct, clasping his now free hand to his throat as he choked from the power of her hit directly against his trachea.
Swinging her leg out, she used the roundhouse kick Travis had taught them in class to knock the gun out of his hand. It fell into the mucky grass several feet away, but he recovered quickly and lunged for it, beating her to it by half of a heartbeat. His armswung out and she had only a fraction of a second to register before the blast rent the air around them.
The shot rang in her ears, so loud it made them buzz, and then the searing pain in her arm forced an agonized scream out of her throat. Her brain went foggy for several heartbeats, pain and fear paralyzing her.No. She had to keep fighting. She had to get back to Travis!
Her left arm was on fire. Kicking out, nothing but pure adrenaline fueling her, she fought with everything she had. Her kick sent the gun flying again. This time she lunged for it before he could scramble to his feet. Picking it up, she spun and pulled the trigger.
The kickback sent a wave of agony through her arm, the bullet connecting with his stomach. He pressed one hand to the wound as he grunted with the pain, then bared his teeth, nothing but pure, unadulterated evil pouring from those dark eyes.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, and I’m going to enjoy it,” he snarled, taking another step forward, and she didn’t hesitate as she squeezed the trigger once more.
Forty-Eight
“Roxy!” Travis bellowed again, putting on a burst of speed. Twenty feet from the corner of the barn, a shot rang out, then another. He skidded around the barn, slipping on the rain slicked grass, catching himself by grabbing hold of the corner of the building. He raised his arm that still clutched Freeman’s handgun, but he slammed to a stop, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight that met his eyes.
Neal lay flat on his back. A gasping, choked breath stuttered out of his mouth, and then he went completely still. His eyes open, but unseeing. Two bullet wounds pumped red blood, one from his stomach, the other from the side of his neck, where it had severed the carotid artery.
Roxy stood three feet away, splattered in mud and rain and blood, her hands clamped tightly around the butt of the handgun, still pointing directly at Neal’s now lifeless body. She was soaked, her hair lying flat against her head and shoulders, clothes clinging wetly to her body. She was shaking, eyes wide and filled with horror, tears mixing with the rain sliding down her cheeks. A gash across her left bicep oozed blood, dripping down her arm and off the tip of her elbow.The bastard had shot her!
“Roxy,” Travis whispered, stumbling forward. He flipped the safety on, then tucked Freeman’s gun into the waistband of his jeans at his back.
When her eyes lifted to his, her hazel eyes were unfocused, faraway. She blinked away the rain, her eyes finally focusing on him, and she whispered, “Travis.”
And then her face fell as soul deep sobs wracked her body. She cried wretchedly, the sound breaking him entirely. Tears filled his own eyes as the anguish exploding from deep inside enveloped her. Her arms lowered, the gun falling from her fingers to the mud at their feet.
He didn’t waste another heartbeat, wrapping his arms around her so tightly he wished he could imprint her on his own body, burrow her under his skin to carry all of her pain. She cried miserably, her fingers clutching at the material of his shirt at his back, her face buried in his neck.
“Travis,” she sobbed, great, hiccupping breaths leaving her as she clutched at him desperately.
“I’ve got you,” he breathed, stroking her hair reverently. He pressed kisses to her forehead, to the top of her head, as he continued to chant, his voice raspy and broken. “I’m here, Red. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”
Picking her up beneath the knees and cradling her back in his other arm, he strode away from Neal’s lifeless body. She wound her arms around his neck, as if holding on for dear life. He held her as tightly as he would allow himself, fear of hurting her, not knowing what Neal had done to her before they’d gotten to her… He tamped down the fear, striding around the barn and back toward the main part of the driveway. As they got closer, he heard the sirens, and then saw the lights flashing as two, then three police cars pulled down the driveway toward them all. An ambulance was right behind them.
