If I Love You

by Tmonique Stephens

  He wouldn’t.

  Their eyes locked and not an ounce of fear registered in her sea-green eyes. The absolute faith he saw in her gaze stripped the fear out of him.

  Noah had a shot, his weapon locked on target. One squeeze of his finger and the top of the guy’s head would be gone. Fifty-fifty odds with Kensley so close. He couldn’t risk it. That didn’t mean he lowered his weapon. He kept it locked on target because an opportunity would arrive, and he would be there to take it. “What do you want?”

  “All you had to do was let us leave,” The man grumbled.

  That moment had come and gone.

  “Brandan!” The man shouted.

  Silence.

  “Brandan!” He screamed, terror and anger layered his voice. Yet, the gun pressed to Kensley’s head didn’t waver. He wasn’t a profession, but he wasn’t an amateur. This was a man who had killed before and wouldn’t hesitate to again. “What did you do with my brother?”

  Aw shit. Was Brandan the one with half a brain or the one Tobias was tracking. “I’ve been here with you, man. I got nothing to do with your brother.” Noah kept his voice neutral.

  The guy eyed the door to the mudroom and shifted that way with Kensley. Noah wanted to look at her. Reassure her. He couldn’t take his eyes off his target, not if he wanted to get her out of this alive.

  “If he’s dead…” His arm tightened around Kensley’s throat. “This bitch is dead.” Her eyes widened, and her back arched as she went onto her toes.

  It took everything Noah had to not lunge at the fucker and remain calm. Remain focused. He would get her free and clear, and the fucker better hope he was already dead.

  A sound caught Noah’s attention. A subtle grinding overhead followed by an ominous crack. Noah stared into his target’s widening eyes as they both came to the same realization. Suddenly, the roof buckled, and he had no time to choose between his death or her death as everything came crashing down.

  Kensley lunged for him while the guy dragged her toward the mudroom as she screamed. Instinct had Noah reaching for the woman he loved. Survival forced him to dive for cover. At the last second, he dived into the kitchen. Not a smart move when everything slid off the open shelves. He covered his head with his arms and curled into a fetal position to make himself smaller, like that was possible with someone his size. Plates, glasses, all of it crashed on top of him, along with half of the roof. Something smashed into his bum shoulder, and god it hurt. The entire arm went numb down to his fingertips. Something else bounced off his head, scrambling his few marbles.

  Yet, one thought remained…Kensley.

  As fast as the collapse started, it was over, the abrupt silence startling. He had to move, kill that fucker and save her, but he was buried, and without a doubt, Kensley was gone.

  Thirty-One

  I dropped the gun. How could I have dropped the gun!

  Worse, she had no idea when or where she’d dropped it. And really, it was too late to matter. Led by a hand fisted in her hair, Kensley was dragged from the cabin seconds before the front half of the roof gave way. Her first impulse had her lunging for Noah only to be cuffed on the side of her head and thrown into the mudroom. She landed hard, cracking her knees and spraining her wrists on the floor. The pain didn’t register. How could it when she’d left Noah buried. In excruciating slow motion, she saw it all and couldn’t even scream a warning. Shock had stolen her voice as Noah was buried beneath half of the roof and a cloud of dust and snow.

  “Get your ass up.” He fisted her hair again and snatched her from the floor. Her scalp screamed. She had no choice but to stand or end up bald. He kicked open the door leading to the outside and paused to take in the falling snow.

  “Just go,” she threw out the suggestion hoping he would take the not so subtle hint. “The boat. Take the boat and escape. No one will find you in this storm.”

  The hand tightened in her hair. “Come too far. Can’t leave without it,” he muttered. Bears barking jerked them around. The beautiful animal crouched a few feet away, half growling, half whining. The sweet dog didn’t know what to do.

  “Who does he love more? You? Or the dog?”

  In horror, Kensley watched him take aim at Bear. She shoved herself into his body. Thrown off-balance, the shot went wide and hit the side of the shed. Bear took off back into the house while they tumbled into a snowdrift.

  “Fucking bitch!” he grunted and hauled her up by the hair. He opened the door to the shed. He forced her ahead of him into the building she’d seen Noah exit dressed in that bloody apron.

  A coppery scent tainted the air. He’d butchered the deer here. There had to be something here she could use. No window, the room was dark, just a minuscule amount of light filtering from the cabin. Enough light for her to see the table along the wall and the glint of what she hoped were knives.

  Purposely, she struggled against him. He shoved her again, and she made sure to stumble into the table and grab hold of the first thing she touched.

  She dropped the gun. This time she held onto one of the knives. Thin. Curved. Sharp by the sting across her thumb. Boning knife, she guessed, slipping up her sleeve. Hair fisted again, and he yanked her back to him. “You led me in here to trap me.”

  “I told you to take the boat.” Asshole.

  He shook her, and tear leaked out of her eyes, and she grabbed the hand holding her. “Where is it? Where’s the boat?”

  “In the lake, dipshit,” she gritted between clenched teeth.

  He cuffed her with the gun. The flash of pain took her breath away. Her knees buckled, but he had her by the hair and slammed her into the wall. “Now’s not the time to be a smart ass. Take me to the boat.” Back to the door. “Open it.”

  She fumbled with the knob before finally opening it. He shoved her out first, then popped his head out for a peek and pulled back. They were alone. He hustled her along, half dragging her because she gave him just enough resistance to slow him down. Noah may be injured, but he wasn’t dead. No way.

  Please God. Let him be alright. She wouldn’t survive burying another person she loved.

  They rounded the cabin and he dragged her past her car and a crumpled nearly headless body half covered in snow. Vomit rushed up her throat. Tobias! she thought and immediately realized it couldn’t be. Wrong clothes. Wrong build. He was still out there with the other guy, the last of the three. That’s all she saw when she opened the door.

  In the distance, the faint warble of a siren reached through the night. Mick! He must’ve been close when she called. Spirits buoyed, she stepped over the body and didn’t react when he slammed her into the rear of Noah’s truck. The liftgate caught her on the diaphragm, and she grabbed hold of the item in the truck to keep from falling.

  “I’ve come to close. I’ve come to close,” he muttered, panicking.

  “You still have time to get to the boat,” she teased. “The keys are in the ignition.” She had no idea if that were true.

  “So close,” he mumbled not paying attention to anything she said. Suddenly, he yanked her head back, straining her neck and ripping more than a few strands out. “I’m not leaving without that safe! Pick it up.”

  Safe? That’s when she noticed a silver, medium-sized, dented, and scorched wall safe.

  “Pick it up!” he screamed, the barrel of the gun forced against her temple.

  Kensley sobbed. “If this is your game plan, you are ass out of luck. There is no way in Hell I can lift that by myself!” The safe couldn’t be her only ticket out of this mess. If it were, she was a dead woman.

  Thirty-Two

  Dog breath and a wet tongue bathed Noah’s face. Noah pushed Bear away, and he came back whining. Was he in here before the crash or did he somehow manage to get in afterward?

  Wonder later! Get up now!

  Quickly, he ignored the pain in his arm and scrambled from under the pile. He lost his Ruger in the rubble. Good thing he had another weapon in his shoulder holster and the small of hi
s back. The front entrance was blocked by the car and the roof, no way to get out there. Add the entrance to the mudroom to the blocked list. He didn’t have time to dig his way to either exit. Rather, Kensley didn’t have time.

  Up was the only choice left. His bum arm tingled as if it had fallen asleep and was now just awakening. He couldn’t wait for it to come back online. He had to go. Using his other hand, he grabbed hold of the railing and swung himself over and landed in the middle of the staircase with Bear on his heels. Pain tightened his left thigh, and wetness had a section of his shirt sticking to his right flank, followed by a burning ache. No time for pain, he ignored it all and focused on Kensley.

  Four steps brought him to the bedroom. A few more brought him to the windows. They were large and opened out to the back of the house with a view of the woods.

  Noah climbed out of the window and held on with both arms. Parts of him ached, sending up warning signals. He was hurt and didn’t have time for that shit. Dangling from the ledge, his shoulder gave an ominous pop.

  Aw fuck! His damn shoulder had just dislocated, causing agony to cascade to his fingers and into his chest and back. He fell silently into a snowdrift next to the house. A sharp pain raced up his leg, and it gave out. Tumbling headfirst into the snow, his shoulder hit something solid, he guessed the tree stump he used to split wood, and slammed back into place.

  Damnit. This was not how to mount a rescue.

  He popped up, reeling as his nerve endings reconnected and pain, sharp as a fistful of needles stabbing him, flared across his chest and down his arm. It took everything he had to free himself from the snow and pull his gun from its holster. Carefully, he held onto the side of the cabin and climbed to his feet. Locking down the pain wracking his body, he eased around the back corner of the cabin. The door to the mudroom was open. A rapid sweep confirmed the room was empty. However, enough light filtered from the cabin and through the snowstorm for him to notice the pair of footsteps in the snow leading from the cabin to the shed.

  He could be in there with her. Or he could’ve left her there dead, giving him a chance to escape.

  No. She wasn’t dead. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept that scenario. Either way, he had to go in there.

  Noah prayed for the former and gripped the knob as the first strains of a siren caught his ear—and the soft crunch of a footstep behind him.

  He spun and faced the wrong end of an AR.

  Tobias peered around the scope and whispered, “Getting sloppy, man.”

  No doubt that was true, but now wasn’t the time. “You kill your target?” he needed one less thing to worry about.

  “Hobbled. He ain’t going anywhere. Where’s Kensley?”

  His answer came with a sharp cry that whipped Noah around.

  Thirty-Three

  “Carry it, or a bullet goes into your brain.”

  Out of options, Kensley grabbed the edges of the safe. Using every ounce of strength, she managed to slide it across the flatbed a few inches, which was not carrying it.

  “Then a bullet goes into yours.” Noah’s voice jerked Kensley and the gunman around.

  Kensley gasped. He’s alive. The relief was sweet and left her weak. He was filthy from the top of his head to his boots. She drank in the trail of blood stretching from his hairline to his scruffy beard, the dirt and snow clinging to him, and the bloody spot low on his right side. He’d never looked better or deadlier with a gun pointed at the man holding her hostage.

  He stepped closer, and she noticed he favored his left leg and held his right arm close to his body. No longer happy fisting her hair, the gunman wrapped his arm around her throat and used her as a shield.

  “You want the safe, take it.” Noah tipped his head toward his truck.

  The gunman tightened his grip. Back painfully arched, Kensley went to her tiptoes for a sip of air. “You want this bitch? Get my safe and take it to the boat.”

  Noah’s gaze darted to hers, then back to the gunman. “I get this to the boat. You let her go.”

  “I’d give you my word, but it won’t amount to a pile of shit with you.” The gunman edged backward, one step at a time, and took her with him.

  Noah stayed by the truck. “Damn straight.” He moved to the flatbed. He took a peek inside then refocused on the gunman, the weapon in his hand never wavered. “What’s in the safe?”

  “Her life. Pick it up.”

  Noah lowered his gun and let it slip from his fingers.

  The weapon pressed to her temple was gone and now pointed at Noah. “No!” she screamed and struggled to break free.

  Noah didn’t move. He didn’t even raise his hands. “Shoot me, and you won’t make it two steps.”

  A whistle pierced the air. She barely spotted Tobias through the falling snow. He was a dark shadow on the roof of her car, the AR extended in front of him. A chill ran down her spine, and it wasn’t from the frigid weather.

  Sirens grew louder. Not one car, but multiple. They’d get here and not necessarily make things better with three armed men. She’d added Noah to the count. He threw down his weapon, but she’d seen him load up in the house when the bullets started flying. No way was he unarmed.

  The gunman repositioned her in front of him. Now, Tobias would have to go through her to get to him. As big as the gun was, she didn’t think that would be a problem.

  Noah pulled the safe to him, wrapped his arms around it, and carefully lifted it. Muscles straining, he picked it up with a low grunt. The pier and his boat were twenty yards away. He started shuffling that way.

  “I hope what’s in here is worth it?” Noah grunted. The bloody spot on his side spread over his shirt.

  “Keep walking.” Voice urgent, the gunman dragged Kensley backward. He stumbled and nearly took her down with him. It wasn’t easy walking backward on unknown terrain in a growing blizzard, and she refused to help him.

  It seemed like forever, but they made it to the pier. The wood was slick with ice underfoot. All she needed was for the gunman to slip and blow half her brains out. She steadied herself and him. Surviving this was the plan. Not sure how that was going to happen with Noah straining under the weight of the safe and Tobias creeping closer on Noah’s left. The cold metal of the knife she’d slipped under her sleeve rubbed against her wrist. The adage, Never bring a knife to a gunfight, circled her brain. However, something was better than nothing. All she needed was a chance.

  The bow of the tarp-covered boat appeared to her left as the first flashes of red, white, and blue, zigzagged between the trees. Mick was on the road leading to the cabin. They’d be here any second, and the microscopic truce the four of them had would go to hell in a handbag. Would Mick be able to tell friend from foe? Or would Tobias end up a casualty along with her?

  I have to do something, she thought as they cleared the rear of the boat. Noah rested the safe on the pier. With one hand, he loosened the tarp and yanked most of it free of boat and the accumulated snow on its surface. The remaining snow weighed the tarp down, enabling it to slide into the water. Noah could’ve stopped it, then she remembered his shoulder injury and wondered how bad was it.

  “All this trouble for a safe. Must be something important in it,” Noah pressed. “Enough to get one of your boys brained and the other tied up in the woods, left for the wolves.”

  “Brandan.” She heard the gunman mumbled.

  Noah untied the boat. It wouldn’t stay near the pier long. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the safe. Sweat popped out on his brow, and he edged closer to the boat as the boat began drifting away like a skittish animal.

  Two police SUV’s rolled up and skidded to a halt between the cabin and the pier. Their doors opened, and Mick and another officer peeled out of the cabs, weapons drawn.

  Noah spared a glance over his shoulder, a pained grimace on his face. “You want your safe? Take it.” He dropped the safe. It sailed between the pier and the boat and hit the water with a soft splash.

  The gunman screamed, and f
or a precious second, his arm loosened around her neck. No time to think about the consequences, Kensley yanked her head to the side, at the same time she grabbed the hand holding the gun, and shoved it toward the sky.

  He fired, but it was too late. That didn’t mean he didn’t try again, but Noah barreled straight at them. Tobias did the same along with the police. Their voices clashed in her head. So many lives balanced on a razor’s edge. She did the only thing she could.

  Kensley locked onto the gunman and fought for control of his gun, and the arm still around her neck. She threw her head back and connected with his nose. Now, he screamed in pain. His feet slipped, and instead of trying to correct the slide, Kensley went with it, shoving herself into his body and taking them over the side of the pier.

  She hit the water and for a split second didn’t register the cold because the fight for her life wasn’t over. The gunman still had her by the throat, though he suddenly shoved her away and swam for the surface. The cold was a thousand needles stabbing her at once, shredding her sanity and demanding she escape. She ignored the instinct and grabbed onto the gunman’s coat and dragged him down into the water with her.

  He fought, swinging wildly, delivering a glancing blow to her jaw and shoulder. She pulled the knife from her sleeve and swung just as wildly. As close as they were, eventually, she hit something and prayed it was vital. The knife struck and sunk deep. A screamed, muffled by water, reached her. The arms clawing her fell away, and Kensley kicked for the surface, leaving the man who terrorized her to slide deeper into the murky depths.

  Lungs aching, she swam for the surface, but something wrapped around her waist and held her down. The tarp, she realized. Now it wasn’t a man trying to kill her, but an unforgiving length of fabric meant to protect against the elements would now spell her doom. She struggled for the surface, only to sink deeper into the water. She fought even as the cold seeped into her bones, making every effort sluggish and futile.