by Jessica Berg
Dominick reached for her. She retreated a quick step back. He didn’t care. Advancing on her, he pinned her against the front desk, placed his hands on the desk behind her, locking her in between his arms. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He bit back a groan and captured them. This time there was no hesitation, only tasting, seeming to sip from his lips. He tightened his hold on her, coaxing her deeper, faster.
The fire inside him threatened to consume them both. Needing to release her before she burned with him, he broke the kiss, receding a whisper from her. “I want you to go, Spitfire. If something happened to you, I’d lose my mind.” She opened her mouth to retort. He laid calloused finger on her lips and blinked in surprise when she nipped at it. “Grace, somewhere between seeing you kill an innocent window shutter to finding out you wear days-of-the-week underwear, I fell in love with you. So it’s high on my priority list that you are safe.”
Her eyes widened, the green depths sucking him in. For a blessed second, he waited for her to taste him again, to say those three words, but her eyes shuttered themselves, and whatever warmth had been there vanished. Without a word, she pushed away from him and ran.
***
This had been the opportunity Leo had been waiting for. All night he’d watched the police buzz around the house like worker bees. Too bad for them, they would find nothing. And now his prey, his quarry, came straight at him. He knew the trees would hide him well if he chose to stay hidden, but today was not the day for hiding. Today was the day for revenge.
If his father was watching from hell where he belonged, he would be proud of his son. A man took what was his. Paid back insult with insult, fist with fist, life with life. Leo slicked back his hair with a sweaty palm. He clutched his hand into a fist to stop the tremors. He would not be that cowering child, weeping and speechless. He would not be the child beaten into submission and love. He would not be the child dumped and picked up only to be dumped again, over and over again. He was a man.
Grace McIntyre would pay for her father’s sins. Reaching around to his back, he grabbed his favorite hunting knife from the waistband of his jeans. Sitting back on his haunches, he sat and quivered at the quick footsteps bringing Grace to him.
***
Grace ran. Ran from Dominick. Ran from the house. Ran to the woods. Her knee throbbed, but she was determined to get to the woods. His words reverberated in her mind. I fell in love with you. In vain, she tried to skew their meaning, but it was no use. Why he loved her, she had no idea, and she couldn’t escape the realization that she loved him too. She didn’t know what the heck to do with it.
The humidity and her bum knee zapped her strength, and she slowed to an awkward hippity-hop gait. Before too long, she was deep within the little woods behind the house. The only other time she had been in the woods was when she had come to inspect the weird light she’d seen the first few days after arriving. All the weird phenomena that had happened in the last month clicked. The odd light in the woods, the dead squirrels, the dead raccoons—it all led to one conclusion: someone was targeting them. Maybe Dominick was right. Perhaps she and Phoebe did need to leave for a while and come back when this nightmare ended.
She turned to head back to the house when a single footstep cracked a twig behind her. She wasn’t alone. Bile oozed up her throat and fear snaked through her body and constricted her heart as a wisp of cigar smoke assailed her senses. And she remembered. She remembered the sticky, hammy hands that had manhandled her and her sister in the panel van, the green couch, the stench of the same sweet-smelling cigar smoked by the fat man who’d taken her from her home.
“Grace.”
Grace closed her eyes in resignation. So this is it. Pivoting on her good leg, she faced the man intuition told her would kill her. “Andrew.”
“Leo. Leo Muldoon.” Gone was the shy cowboy. In his stead stood a seething human body of hatred and malicious intent. His grey eyes swirled to green in the filtered light of the woods. Perspiration glistened on his face and ran in rivulets down his arms. One tiny river of sweat beaded down his arm and off the hilt, the blade of a large, scary knife. “You like my equipment?”
“Never been a big fan of knives, to be honest.” She tried for nonchalant. Failed.
“I don’t think this experience will cause you to change your mind.” Leo giggled to himself. “Do you remember me?”
Grace shook her head.
“How could you not remember the little boy left fatherless.”
She sucked in a deep breath, held it. Released it. This is where the poor boy had ended up. With her, in the woods, with a knife. “I was only a little girl when your father kidnapped my sister and me. Why are you doing this?”
“The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.” His eyes danced with insanity.
She clutched to this one opportunity to distract him. Maybe if she could keep him talking, Dominick would come looking for her. But why would he? She’d basically slapped him with another rejection. Only a patient man could take no for an answer as many times as she’d doled them out. No, he would not come looking for her. Her blood froze. The sweltering humidity crushed her, her leg and head ached, and she fought to stay on her feet. If today was her day, she’d go fighting. She’d get her punches in.
“The Bible also says one should not kill and that we are to forgive one another.”
“Shut up!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “An eye for an eye. That’s what I believe in.” His face split into a slithery grin. “You ready to meet this God you believe in?”
Yeah, I am. But maybe, today was not her day. She darted away from him, but before she could pick up speed, he tackled her, pressing his body onto her. Pain shot through her when he kneeled with all his weight on her bad knee. He flipped her over on her back and pinned her to the ground.
His free hand grabbed her hands, and in one swift motion, he tugged her arms above her head and stuffed a dirty handkerchief into her mouth. “And here is the part where you’re going to really hate knives.”
He sliced downward with his knife. Her body bucked in agony. Her eyes bulged. Her stomach spewed forth the last thing she ate. The foul gag forced her to swallow the vile stuff. Pain melted her bones and pulsated from the center of her hands where Leo had staked them to the ground with his knife. She would never escape now. She struggled and vomited again from the pain. Every movement, every breath caused the blade to slice a little more into her palms.
“You should be more careful, Grace.” He kneeled beside her head and gently, tenderly brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “The more you struggle, the more it will hurt.”
Looking into her attacker’s eyes, she knew what it was to stare into the eyes of a shark: cunning, cruel, and deadly.
“Why?” Her muffled question humored her attacker.
“Why?” He leaned his face an inch away from hers and shouted, “Your father killed my father and left me with nothing!” Regaining his composure, he cracked his neck, his face catching the first rays of the rising sun filtering through the tree canopy. “It was my job to watch you and your bratty sister, making sure you two didn’t make a sound. My father needed me. I was important.” His voice rose in hysteria. “I watched. I watched as your father killed mine.” Leo pulled a gun from the back pocket of his jeans and caressed it across her cheeks. “Your father gunned down my father, who was only protecting himself, protecting me.”
Click. Grace nearly passed out as the gun pressed to her temple clicked on an empty chamber. He smirked at her terror and leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I have another secret, but I’ll wait for the finale. You’re going to love it.”
Tucking the gun in his waistband and producing a length of baling twine from his pants pocket, he tied her wrists together and, with one swift movement, wrenched the knife from her hands, freeing them from the ground. Thousands of tiny white stars slammed into her vision. Dampness from her hands spread down her arms and into her armpits, her own blood. Her vision
blurred, and she fought to stay conscious. She had to. Doing otherwise would be a death sentence.
Leo held the bloody knife in his shaking hand and skittered it up and down Grace’s cheeks. Not hard enough to break skin, the blade kissed her skin in tiny tic-tac-toe patterns. “And now for my little secret. The day your father’s horse came back into your yard with your dead father slung over the saddle —”
“You sonofa—”
Leo’s fist slammed into her face. Tears she’d been holding back broke the dam.
“He was only the beginning. Your mother’s new fiancé? Well, she fell easily enough for such a shy young cowboy. Now don’t go getting all teary-eyed on me,” Leo admonished, “I’m not going to kill your mother, yet. First I need to comfort her when she gets the news that her two precious little girls are dead, the only descendants of Jeremiah Wallace gone. Oh, who will get all that money?” Leo leaned into her face again. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Who?” Spittle clung to his lips in white globs.
“You,” Grace mumbled, hoping the daggers of hatred knifing from her eyes would kill the man.
“Very good, Gracie.” Tenderly he traced her jawline with the dull edge of the knife. “You are beautiful. Too bad I have to kill you. But before I do…” He ripped the handkerchief out of her mouth and smashed his lips on hers.
She bit. Hard. He screamed and lurched backward, holding his hand to the gaping hole in his bottom lip. Springing into action, she flung her bound wrists and whacked Leo on the head, and rolled out from under him. Free at last, she army crawled along the ground.
With a howl of rage, Leo grabbed her and forced her against a tree, bashing her head against the trunk. “You little bitch, you bit me.” He yelled at her. “Just for that, you can die first. But I want you to die knowing I will make Phoebe’s death a torturous one.” Sitting on her knees, he grabbed a hunk of her hair and bent her head backward, exposing her neck. Seemingly fascinated, he watched the rapid pulsing of the artery transporting warm, life-giving blood throughout her body.
Grace finally gave up the fight and closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for forgiveness. Prayed for protection for her sister. Prayed for Dominick. Peace settled upon her. She’d see her father again. Suddenly all her senses came alive. Leo’s hand released her hair, and his body slid sideways off her legs. She smelled her blood and his body odor. She tasted her own vomit and the salty flavor of his blood still clinging on her lips. She heard the gentle rustle of leaves as they danced in the breeze and breathing that wasn’t her own.
She peeked open one eye and stared into the empty eyes and gaping mouth of her attacker. Phoebe, brandishing a large tree limb still held high in the air, gave a war cry. Her wild black hair streamed down her back, and her sapphire eyes glowed with angelic light. Phoebe lifted her sneakered foot and gave a swift kick to Leo’s face and stomped it in the dirt.
Phoebe rolled Leo’s inert body off of Grace’s legs. Tears streaked down her face as she caressed Grace’s hair back. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie.”
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but her throat burned, and she didn’t have the energy. She brought her hands in front of her face to inspect the damage. Her body went cold as all her blood drained from her face. Tiny black dots danced on the peripherals of her vision. She wanted to clutch her sister to her but couldn’t make her hands work.
“That … that … son of a …” Phoebe stopped herself and kissed Grace’s tear-soaked cheeks. “He’ll never, never hurt you again. Not on my watch.” She yelled, “Help. Grace needs help! Call 911. Now!”
Chapter 22
Grace squinted against an invading light. Pain had become part of her. She needed the inky blackness. The light, brighter and brighter, beckoned to her. Her eyelids strained to stay open, and as her vision cleared, she scanned the room. Flower arrangements and stuffed animals crammed every nook and cranny. A mountain of boxed chocolates took up an entire corner of the room. A mindless talk show host on the television jabbered about some new miracle diet. Phoebe lay lightly snoring in a cot on the opposite wall. The massive headache driving spikes into her brain kept her from shaking her head in confusion. Her gaze slid to her left, and her heart leaped.
“Hey.” Dominick’s deep voice soothed her jumbled thoughts. He scooted his chair closer and laid his hand on the thick bandaging of her left hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been steamrolled,” she croaked. He grabbed her water glass and held the straw so she could take a sip. “Better.” She eyed the IVs sticking out from her right arm. She avoided looking at her hands.
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “The doctor says you’ll be fine. The knife did a little damage, but they fixed you up well. With a little therapy, you’ll have full use of your hands again.” He brushed a stray tear trickling down her face and traced the scratches she knew littered her face. “These will fade within days.”
She pressed her cheek into his warm, calloused hand. Tears clogged her throat.
“He won’t hurt you again. Phoebe took care of that.” Dominick shuddered. “Oh, Grace, what if Andrew … Leo … whatever his name was …”
“Was?” She jerked forward, pain shattered in her head. She clutched at it with her bandaged hands to stop the torment.
He stroked her hair, avoiding the bandage circling her forehead. “Take it easy, Spitfire.” Dominick kissed her bandaged head. “Phoebe’s whack to his head killed him.”
Pity. Elation. Closure. Sadness. They all warred for dominance. Leo had been a victim of his father as much as she and Phoebe had been, but he had chosen a path of revenge, and she couldn’t be sorry he was dead. Maybe the pain over her past could die too. She needed to visit her father’s grave, tell him his little warrior princess had avenged evil and set the world to rights again.
The little warrior princess snored and twitched on the hospital cot tucked in the corner. Grace bit her lip against another onslaught of tears.
He caressed her hair. “I’m sorry, Grace. I’m sorry I drove you to run away. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be safe …” She opened her mouth to protest, but he laid a finger on her lips. “Let me say my piece. I’m sorry I hired him, granted him an opportunity to get close to you.”
As if trapped, he paced by her bedside. He jammed his hands in his hair and yanked.
She said his name, tried to get his attention.
He halted, brought his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry. I’m a coward.”
“What?”
“I should have run after you. I should have taken better care of you. I failed to protect you, as I failed to protect my wife.” He collapsed back in the chair and laid his head on the edge of the bed.
She awkwardly caressed his head with her boxer, glove-like hands. “Don’t do this to yourself. You can’t control me any more than anyone else. Ask my sister.”
He lifted his head and loosely held on to her bandaged hands. “When you left the house, I watched until you entered the woods. Concerned, I started after you, but my pride got in the way. I feared another rejection. I didn’t think I could take the pain. I busied myself around the house, anything to keep my mind off you. About five minutes later, I glanced toward the wood and saw Phoebe disappear into it. Relieved you wouldn’t be alone, I tackled the shelves in the cellar storage room. I lost track of time. That’s when I heard the men scrambling and yelling about something. They told me Phoebe was yelling from the woods, something about 911.” He scooted as close as possible and caressed his thumb over her cheek.
“My heart stopped. I ran, Grace. I ran as fast as possible. You were covered in blood …” His face whitened, and she feared he’d faint. “Let’s just say, I’ve never fainted before in my entire life, but right then and there, I thought I’d fall like a tree. Grace, I almost lost you … again.” His voice cracked, but before she could respond, he forged ahead. “When you moved, I thought my heart would burst. You were alive. Phoebe got me up to speed on the situation
. It wasn’t until then that I noticed Leo’s body on the ground. When I checked for a pulse, there was none.”
“You cannot blame yourself. You didn’t know what he was, what he was capable of.” Tears rolled down her face. “He would have gotten to me anyway. Please don’t blame yourself.”
Dominick kissed Grace’s wrapped hands. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears when his gaze locked with hers. He ran his thumb over her lips. “I’m sorry my stupidity caused you such pain. I pushed you when you didn’t want to be pushed, and for that, I’ll never forgive myself. But I’m begging for a second chance. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready.” He played with a tendril of her hair. “I’m not like Kevin. If you want me, my spunky, quirky, little Spitfire, you will have all of me forever.”
She closed her eyes against tears threatening to drown her and nuzzled her cheek against the warmth of his hand. The calluses scratched a little, but she didn’t care. Her stubbornness and mistrust had nearly killed her. She knew exactly what she wanted. She kissed his palm. Even under the influence of pain killers, her insides liquefied when his eyes darkened. “If you ever break your promise, I’ll send Phoebe after you.”
As if on cue, Phoebe snorted, shot her butt in the air, and plopped on her other side.
He grinned. “I’m terrified.”
***
“Surprise!” Lilly bounded into Grace’s hospital room two days later with a fistful of dandelions. “I brought you flowers.”
“Why, thank you. This is a nice surprise.” Grace brought the proffered weeds to her nose to take a big whiff.
Dominick followed closely after his daughter, his eyes apologetic. “She insisted on bringing these we—”
“Pretty flowers.” She beamed at Lilly. “These dandelions mean more to me than any bouquet of flowers in this room. “
“Even more than these?” He brought his arm from behind his back. A simple bouquet of wildflowers shook slightly in his extended hand. He leaned over and kissed her. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.”
