Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

  He took one more swing and in dodging it, she threw them both off balance. They tumbled off the couch. Her hip took the brunt of the impact, eliciting a grunt. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, then rolled to her back. If she got out of this–no. When, dammit–when she got out of this, she was going to look like a tie-dyed t-shirt from all her damn bruises.

  Todd sprawled next to her, cradling his left hand against his chest.

  His empty left hand. Cradled by his empty right hand.

  Did she dive for the gun, or sneak for it slowly? No guarantee she could use it with her hands tied, but if she got the gun and told him she’d trained for such a situation, he’d believe it.

  Better to bide her time and inch her way toward the weapon. Keep him distracted. With her arms and legs bound, there was too great a chance she’d miss if she attempted to lunge.

  She needed to get him talking again. “Why didn’t you tell me what she did?” It wasn’t solely a stall tactic. The girl who’d loved and worshiped her older brother wanted to know why he hadn’t trusted her with his secret.

  His bark of laughter was cold. “Right. What could you have done? Told Dad?”

  “Of course not." She’d stopped going to Dad about Karen before she hit double digits. "We could've gotten you help.”

  “From who? One of the useless guidance counselors at school?” He pushed himself off the floor and onto the couch. It didn’t appear he had any urgent intent to retrieve the gun he’d left on the coffee table or the knife he’d dropped on the recliner.

  When his head turned for a second, she scooted closer to the table. A few inches at a time, she would get her weapon back.

  “Or one of the even more useless shrinks she sent me to?” Hatred infused his words.

  In his defense, most of the psychologists Karen had convinced Dad to send Todd to had been awful. With each, Todd got more withdrawn.

  “I work with people who help victims of sexual abuse. I could have introduced you to someone.” She sat up straighter, and in doing so scooted a few inches closer to her gun. “She did awful things to you. But that doesn’t make what you did right. You still have to take responsibility for yourself. You should have gotten help.”

  His stare was so vacant it sent a chill through her. There was nothing human left in him.

  “Dammit, you should have told me.” Before he’d disappeared inside this monster.

  “Right. You would have told Gabby. You tell her everything.”

  Oh my God. “That's what this is about? Your crush on Gabby?”

  “It’s not a crush.” His voice came out a growl.

  Fear zipped through her. She needed to get her gun before he attacked again.

  “You would have told Gabby I wasn’t a real man. So I proved to her I am.”

  Real men didn't rape women. She wanted to scream it at him, but it would only provoke his rage.

  "And now you're going to fix things with her," Todd said. "Some of this is your fault too. The least you can do is fix it."

  The words hit her almost as hard as his earlier attack. First he’d done this for her. Now it was her fault? "How is this my fault?"

  "Hank didn't have to die."

  "You're right. You didn't have to kill him."

  "I only killed him because you screwed things up."

  She screwed things up? Yeah, she was the one at fault here. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Dad was supposed to take the blame for this. It was easy. But you had to dig too far into it. Go snooping around in the attic."

  "Forgot about his hip, did you?" She dared to move a few inches closer. She was almost to the middle. When did her coffee table get so long?

  "He was going to cut us out of the will. Did he tell you that? She wanted us out and he said he'd look into—"

  "Did you hear him say that? Those exact words? 'I'll look into it'?" No. No no no. It wasn't possible. There had to be more to it.

  Todd stared at her as if she were the crazy one. "Yes, those were his exact words. So what?"

  "Whenever Dad says 'I'll look into it,' it's his way of saying he's not going to do something but he doesn't have the guts to say no right now." How did Todd not know that? Frustration burned through her. This couldn’t all be because of one misunderstanding.

  No, there were multiple factors at play. His mental decline was so profound, if it hadn’t been the will, something else would have triggered his break.

  "Whatever. The point is, he was going to let her cut us out of the will, even though she was fucking around on us with—"

  "Fucking around on us?" This was too twisted.

  "Dad. Fucking around on Dad."

  "It doesn't matter what she did or didn't do. Now or when we were kids." She scooted again. A few more inches and she could grab it.

  He went utterly still, staring at her, seething. She could feel the hatred radiating from him. It filled the room until she smelled it with every breath. It mingled with the starkest fear she'd ever known. In twelve years of being a cop she'd rarely feared for her life. Never as deeply as at that moment.

  In a flash of movement, he rose from the couch and grabbed both her knife and her gun.

  Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

  "I'm done with you." He gestured wildly, swinging the knife in her direction. She scrambled backward but only made it a few feet before she fell on her side.

  The fear kicked into high gear, sharp and potent. It flooded her with adrenaline and determination. She would not die on her own living room floor at the hands of her deranged brother.

  "I see where your loyalty lies. You'd take Dad's side over mine. You'd take her side over mine."

  "I'm taking the side of people who don't kill other people."

  "You love your stupid cops more than your own brother. You're even fucking one of them, aren't you?"

  She wouldn’t give in to his taunts. "That's irrelevant. I'm doing my job. And I’m doing the right thing."

  "I'll tell them what you did for Hank. You told me plenty of times you could lose your precious job if they found out. Will your cop still fuck you if he knows?"

  "Tell them what you want. The word of a nutjob versus a respected cop."

  Her head jerked back so hard she lost her breath. He held her hair in his fist, pulling tight enough to stretch the skin on her forehead. Her gun thunked as it hit the floor.

  The edge of her knife pressed against her jugular. She didn't dare breathe or it could slice the delicate skin. She'd cut herself with that knife before; she knew how easily it drew blood. And Todd knew exactly where to cut.

  Wild fear whipped through her. She held herself rigid rather than give in to the shudder that wanted to overtake her.

  He was going to kill her. She hadn't believed he would actually hurt her. Even after all he'd done, she'd naively believed he would spare her. Idiot.

  She couldn't stop a whimper. Dammit, she didn't want him to see any weakness.

  "That's right," he hissed, mouth close to her ear. His voice didn't sound like Todd. The monster who'd taken over her brother maintained complete control. "Cry for me. You should be scared."

  "This isn't the way to get what you want," she whispered. She didn't risk speaking in a full voice. Even that movement could be enough to open her artery.

  "If you won't give me what I want, why would I keep you around? You're obviously questioning your loyalty to me. Maybe I should do the same." He jerked on her hair, wrenching her neck farther. Pain shot down her spine and up her skull. An ache began in her bad knee.

  He shifted the knife and used it to slice through her shirt, between her breasts. He grazed her skin with the tip of the knife, enough to sting and draw a thin line of blood, but not enough to do real damage.

  Then he threw her to the floor. Her bound hands punched her in the stomach as her chin smacked against the wood. Pain jolted through her jaw. Great, now she'd have a bruise there to match the one on her cheek.

  Because a couple br
uises were the worst of her problems.

  He grabbed her shoulder and jerked her onto her back, slamming her head into the floor. Her brain rattled in her skull. He pinned her with a knee to her stomach, pushing the air from her abdomen. She struggled to catch her breath.

  Just when her brain stilled, he wholloped her across the cheek. Her brain felt like a ping pong ball in her head. She'd be lucky to get out of this without a concussion.

  Hell, she'd be lucky to get out of this.

  He swung at her again. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to jerk her head to the side and his fist grazed her neck.

  She opened her eyes and they immediately focused on her gun. Just sitting there. Todd didn't seem to be paying it any attention. If she could get him off her, maybe...

  No, there was no time to think in maybes. She would get him off her and she would get her gun. It was her only chance.

  Chapter 26

  "You fucking bitch." His knee ground into her and she coughed as she again lost her breath. The convulsion of her cough dislodged his knee and allowed her to suck in much-needed air.

  He lifted his right arm, knife held in his fist. It was straight out of a bad horror movie. In different circumstances, she would have made a snarky comment to Gabby about how corny it was and how real life was completely different. Except the fear was real enough she could smell it, could taste it burning the back of her throat.

  Just like in the movies, time moved both in slow motion and fast forward. She could see the individual hairs on Todd's arm. A ray of sunlight coming in the window glinted off the metal of the blade and made it shine. It looked twenty times bigger. Like it could chop down a redwood with one swing.

  She only got one shot at her gun.

  Gun. Shot. Haha.

  As his arm reached the pinnacle and he would have brought it down to stab her, she bucked her hips. It threw him off balance enough he fell to the side. The knife came down, and would have pierced her biceps but she rolled the opposite direction.

  Toward the gun.

  Behind her, she heard her beautiful blade thunk into the floor. Todd yelped but she ignored the sounds, twisted her bound arms and reached for her weapon.

  She felt fingers grip her ankle the same instant her hand closed around the butt of her gun. There was a God. And She wanted Amanda to live.

  Using all her strength, she kicked the man who used to be her big brother.

  "Bitch," he snarled.

  With an awkward but steady grip on the gun, she rolled to face him, in time to see him pull her knife from the floor.

  They froze, gazes locked. As she watched, something shifted behind his eyes. The dazed look cleared and he was Todd. He was her brother.

  "Amanda."

  She opened her mouth even though she had no idea what she was going to say. Her hold on her gun loosened, just a little.

  He pounced.

  You damn fool, Amanda.

  She squeezed the trigger.

  He howled like a wounded animal. Blood flowed from his shoulder.

  Still, she could tell she'd only grazed him. He'd played her, she'd hesitated, and as a result, she was still in danger. She’d missed her target.

  "You fucking whore!" Knife still in hand, he came toward her. She tried to raise the gun again but her wrists weren't strong enough. The kickback from the first shot had weakened them.

  Still, it was enough to make him stop. "This isn't over." He punctuated his words with her knife. Then he disappeared into the kitchen. She heard a drawer open, then shut.

  She listened as his footsteps moved through the kitchen toward the back of the house.

  She didn't let herself feel relief yet. Not until he was gone. Not until she got herself untied.

  Not until he was safely in prison.

  "You think about it real good, little sister," he called. "Either you help me get out of town or I send a nice long letter to your captain. I'm sure she'd like to know all the things Hank did back in college." The back door opened. He was leaving.

  She wasn't going to die. At least not today.

  She forced herself to move, to roll so she could see him. If she didn't watch him walk out the door, she wouldn't believe it.

  "Fascinating bedtime reading for her. And I'll bet your boyfriend would love a copy." He stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind him.

  Silence fell over her house. She lay on her back for a long time, staring at the ceiling fan. As the fear and adrenaline wore off, she started to shake. She didn't realize she was crying until the tears rolled into her ear, startling her.

  She had no idea how long she stayed like that, shaking and crying silently. It felt like days. Eventually Plato wandered by and butted her cheek with his forehead. He sat down next to her and placed his paw on her nose.

  Her tears turned to hysterical laughter. Leave it to a cat to keep on like there hadn't been a homicidal maniac in the house.

  She rolled to the side and nuzzled Plato, who answered with a chirp.

  "I need to call someone. I should have done that right away."

  Plato got up and walked away.

  Cats, always such great conversationalists.

  She had to find her phone.

  She sat up and bent to work on the knots around her ankles. It was awkward, but he'd used standard knots, nothing fancy. Still, with her limited dexterity, it took five minutes to work her feet free.

  She moved quickly around the living room. He'd taken the knife. Dammit.

  Dammit.

  Her hand tightened around the grip of her gun. At least she still had that.

  She wanted to give up, collapse on the couch and cry until she was empty. She wanted to scream and rant and rage at the unfairness of it all. She wanted to fly off to a tropical island and forget about everything. She wanted to hide away with Greg and spend a week having wild monkey sex.

  Instead, she did the responsible thing. She looked for her phone.

  She found it on the kitchen counter. With clumsy fingers, she called the department and reported the situation. When she was done, she called Greg. Because it was his case, someone would contact him. He and Al would show up soon anyway. But she couldn't wait.

  She needed him now.

  WANTED: TODD SCHREIBER

  His picture loomed over the interstate.

  Usually Amanda paid no attention to the billboards, but the familiar face caught her eye. An anguished noise squeezed from her throat.

  Greg swerved, barely missing the median. "What?" He looked at her, then back to the highway.

  She was shaking so badly she couldn't speak, so she lifted a trembling hand to point.

  ARMED AND DANGEROUS. DO NOT APPROACH

  "Ah, shit." Greg shot her another glance as he eased the car down the exit ramp.

  She forced herself to keep breathing, not give in to the panic squeezing her chest. Against all logic, seeing that billboard suddenly made it real. Apparently a knife to her throat or shooting her own brother hadn't been real enough.

  Tears began streaming down her cheeks and before she could get control of her emotions, a sob wrenched from her chest. By the time Greg pulled the car into the parking structure, she'd doubled over, crying into her lap.

  What a fucking wonderful time for the tenuous dam she'd had on her feelings to collapse. But seeing his picture, those familiar brown eyes staring at her from the billboard, was her personal breaking point. Her life had changed irreparably. Nothing could fix it.

  Greg threw off his seat belt and maneuvered over the console between them. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped her into his embrace, stroking her hair and rocking as if she were a child who'd had a nightmare.

  It felt like a nightmare. Too bad it didn't go away when she woke up.

  "Why? Why did this happen to us? Todd and I were good people." She pounded her fist against Greg's chest, too deflated to do any damage. "Why did she have to destroy him? He was the only thing I had."

  "I know," Greg murmured.
And it wasn't an empty platitude. He did know. He'd lost his brother. Todd was alive, but her big brother might as well be dead.

  She drew in a shuddering breath and let him hold her. Let herself feel the pain and panic she’d been holding at bay.

  Gradually the tightness in her chest eased until she could breathe. Her hands unclenched, releasing Greg’s shirt. The throb in her head receded to tolerable and the tears ceased. She was left with the omnipresent ache and exhaustion no amount of sleep could cure.

  Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket but she let it go to voicemail. She needed another minute before facing the world.

  Good thing she had a toiletry bag in the trunk. What little make-up she wore was probably smeared all over.

  Breath still shaky, she met Greg's eyes. "Just once, why can't something good happen in my family?"

  He stroked his hand over her head and cupped her cheek. "I don't know."

  At least he wasn't trying to feed her bullshit intended to make her feel better. She'd take blunt honesty any day.

  She sought his mouth and pressed her lips to his. Immediately hunger sparked between them and she slid her arms around his warm, solid body.

  His phone rang but when his hand slid toward his pocket, she grabbed it and pressed it to her breast. She needed him. Now. Needed him more than the damn city of Indianapolis needed him.

  His hand flexed and he tweaked her nipple with his thumb. Then he turned his head and leaned away from her.

  "Amanda, no."

  She pressed against him where his body screamed, “Hell yes.”

  He leaned his head back and groaned, a sound of frustration, not pleasure. "We can't do this here."

  Her skin hummed and she was as hot and ready as he was. Damn him for being right. All they needed was for someone to look over and see her sitting in his lap. The parking garage was poorly lit but it wouldn't take much imagination to figure out what they were up to.

  Her cell buzzed again. This time she pulled it out of her pocket. "Schreiber."

  "You planning to grace us with your presence any time soon?" Al barked.