Seven Crows

by Kate Kessler

  “Argh!” she cried, falling to one knee. He raised the cane again, but she swept out with her foot, knocking his good leg out from underneath him.

  “Fuck!” He fell onto his back like an insect, squirming.

  Killian crawled over to him, grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and drove her fist into his face twice. Then an incredible pain lanced through the side of her head as he whacked her with his cane. She fell back onto the concrete. He struck her again in the arm, then the shoulder, then the ribs.

  Her entire body screamed in pain as he kicked her in the thigh. Jesus Christ, he was a sadistic son of a bitch.

  “I’m going to destroy you,” he growled at her—all pretense of awkward politeness vanished. “I’m going to ruin you the way you ruined me.”

  This time when the cane came down, Killian was ready. She grabbed it in her hands for leverage before kicking him as hard as she could between the legs. He crumpled like a rag doll, dropping the cane. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, the brunt of her weight on her good leg. She hobbled closer, bent down, and picked up the cane from where it had fallen, tested the weight of it in her hand.

  She wasn’t feeling particularly polite, either.

  “I made you a promise earlier,” she reminded him as he tried to get up, “of what I’d do to you if you hurt Shannon. You hurt her, you spineless sack of shit. You let that asshole take her, let that other douchebag rape her, and then you laid your hands on her yourself.” Each charge stoked the fires of rage smoldering inside her.

  First she struck him in the head, knocking him down once more. Then, as he lay before her, she let the rage take over. It wasn’t about Jason anymore; it was about the fact that there was a small part of her that was a mother, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Rank had taken her baby and threatened her. Hurt her. There was no forgiving that.

  She didn’t beat him with his cane. That was too good for him. Instead she grabbed him by the foot and flipped him over. He kicked her in the chest with his other leg, but she didn’t let go, even as he thrashed like a fish.

  “Get off me, bitch!” he snarled, kicking again. This time he got her hip. She staggered, almost losing her grip on his leg. He almost pulled free, but she used her body weight to twist his leg until she felt the bone snap. He screamed.

  “You fucking cunt!” he shouted, pain in the pitch of his voice. “You dirty fucking—” She punched him in the jaw and felt the hinge there snap, too.

  “You talk too much,” she snarled.

  Jaw off center, he didn’t speak, just kicked at her again, catching her in the knee. Off-balance, her weight came down on her injured leg. She fell to the wet pavement. Out of the corner of her eye Killian saw his leg move again. She moved, but not fast enough to avoid his shin smashing into the side of her face. It could have been worse—it could have been his boot.

  Grappling in the pelting rain, they slipped and fell against each other. Killian grabbed for his arm, wrapping her own around it to keep him from escaping, then she twisted her lower body just the right way, increasing tension on the limb until it cracked like a chicken bone. Then she pulled him close by the front of the jacket and drove her fist into his face until her knuckles were numb. She didn’t remember breaking his left orbital bone, but it looked as though she had. He was a mess, and she couldn’t bring herself to feel even an ounce of guilt over it. If she were a better person, she’d just kill him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that, either.

  Even though he was practically delirious with pain, his good arm reached for his discarded handgun. She ground the heel of her boot into the back of his hand until he screamed. Then she bent down and picked up the gun.

  “You have a decision to make,” she told him. “You can end this yourself, or you can let them put you back together again.”

  He looked up at her with one eye, glittering and bright under the light. “Fuh oo,” he spat.

  Killian opened her mouth but was cut off by a searing pain in her side. She looked down and saw the bloody blade of a knife in Rank’s hand. Son of a bitch had tried to stab her. Felt like it hit a rib.

  He pulled back to strike again, but she shot him in the forearm. “Ungh!” he cried, dropping the blade. Killian pressed the muzzle of the gun against his forehead.

  He was crying. “You bitch. You fucking bitch. Just fucking kill me. Kill me!”

  Her finger was on the trigger. All she had to do was squeeze and that would be the end of him. He wouldn’t haunt her anymore. Couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  His suffering would be over.

  Killian took her finger off the trigger. She rolled off him, onto her good leg, and slowly pushed herself to her feet. Her left leg threatened to give out, but she managed to catch herself before she fell. Pressing her free hand against her side, she slowly began to limp toward the rooftop door. Thank God the cement wasn’t slippery despite the rain.

  “Come back here!” Rank cried. “Killian, you fucking bitch! Don’t leave me like this!”

  It took all of her remaining strength to open that heavy door. She leaned against it for a moment to capture her breath. Then she turned back to look at the man lying under the light, twisted and sobbing in the rain.

  There was no satisfaction in leaving him like that, either.

  She glanced down at the gun at her hand, then tossed it underhand toward him. It skittered on the roof, kicking up water as it slid into his hip. Then she stepped into the building, letting the door slam behind her.

  She was halfway down the stairs when she heard the shot. Even though she was expecting it, she still jumped a little. Then her legs gave out and she sagged to the metal step, shivering and exhausted. She just needed to sit for a second.

  It was over.

  Outside, the gunfire had quieted as well. Had the SOBs taken out all of Rank’s men, or had his security taken out the bikers? Maybe they’d all killed each other. That would be perfect. She had no idea how long it had been over. Still no sirens, but they’d come eventually.

  Her phone rang. She answered it without looking, thinking it was probably Megan. “Hello.”

  “Killian?”

  She almost laughed as she leaned against the railing. “Hey, Donna. What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to check in with you. I heard that your niece has been found.”

  “What?” She didn’t have to fake her surprise.

  “Yes. She wandered into a town police station and told them she’d managed to escape from Rank Cirello in the middle of a shootout with a motorcycle gang.”

  Killian closed her eyes. Fucking Story. She didn’t know if she should be thankful or pissed that the woman had seen fit to direct how this played out. “Where is she now?”

  “They were taking her to the children’s hospital in Hartford to be checked out. The police will be on their way to Cirello’s compound soon if they’re not already.”

  Something in the woman’s voice made her frown. Was Donna warning her? “That’s good to know.”

  “I imagine it’s going to be a mess there when they arrive. Probably going to be difficult to determine everything that happened.”

  “Well, if he had a shootout with some bikers, I don’t imagine there are too many left standing.”

  “No. I don’t suppose so.”

  “Thanks for calling and telling me.”

  “You’re welcome. I couldn’t imagine not calling. I know how worried you’ve been. I hope this gives you some peace of mind now that it’s over.”

  Jesus Christ, she did know. Or at least she suspected.

  Donna cleared her throat. “So, I’ll see you on Tuesday at our regular time?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” The woman wished her a good night and hung up. Killian sat there, staring at her phone for a few moments, before hauling herself to her feet. By the time she made it to the bottom floor of the garage she could hear sirens in the distance. She opened the door of the first car she found and dropped into the driver’s seat. She pulled down
on the visor and the keys fell into her lap. She started the Benz’s engine and drove out of the building.

  The sirens were louder now. She could see flashing lights in the distance. Instead of heading out the front gate, she steered the car down the same road Story had used when she left. It was winding and twisty through a bit of an industrial area, but eventually it came out not far from a strip mall. She pulled out onto the main street and started toward Dash’s. She drove the speed limit the entire way, listening to her own blood drip onto the floor mat.

  When she reached Dash’s house, Story’s car was in the drive and the lights were on. She parked the Benz behind Dash’s garage so it wasn’t in sight from the road. Then she opened the car door and fell out onto the ground.

  “Shit on a stick,” she heard someone say. She lifted her head to see Story coming toward her. “Girl, you look awful.”

  “You should see the other guy,” she said, trying to push herself up.

  Story caught her under the armpits and helped lift her to her feet. Then with her arm around the other woman’s neck and a helping arm about her own waist, Killian slowly limped toward the house.

  “What’s your blood type?” Story asked.

  “AB positive. Why?”

  “Universal recipient. That’s good. I’m a universal donor. I think I’m going to have to give you a little transfusion, sweetheart.”

  “You can do that?” Killian’s head was starting to spin.

  Story glanced at her with a smile. “Haven’t you realized yet that I can do anything?”

  “I’m starting to see that, yeah. You got a med kit in that bag of tricks? I’ve got a hole in my leg.”

  “Don’t you worry about anything. Just let Miss Story take care of it.”

  “Okay,” Killian agreed.

  Then she passed out.

  Seventeen

  Dash came home from the hospital the next day and the two of them played invalid at his house. Killian used a crutch to get around—she refused to use a cane because it reminded her too much of Rank—and he moved like an old man, but they made it work. Megan flew home from Florida that afternoon, much to Willow’s upset. They would arrive just in time to take Shannon home from the hospital.

  “I like your house,” Killian said to him as they watched a movie in bed.

  “You are welcome anytime.”

  She snuggled against him—her good side against his. “I think I might look for a new job. And a new apartment. Know anyone who might want to hire an ex-con?”

  He pressed Pause on the remote. “Yeah, I do.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about fixing cars. You know that.”

  “Not me. My employer.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.” And that was all he said about it, which made Killian wonder if he was trying some kind of reverse psychology on her.

  When the movie was over, they went out to the kitchen to start dinner. “I could get used to lying around doing nothing,” he said.

  “Mm. I think you’d get bored real quick.” She dug some chicken breasts out of the freezer.

  The doorbell rang. They exchanged glances before Dash went to answer it, Hank at his heels. The dog had become super protective of both of them.

  The door opened to reveal Megan, Shannon, and Willow. Killian barely had time to turn toward them before her sister had her in a hug that made her battered body scream in protest.

  “Meg,” she gasped, seeing spots. “You gotta let me go.”

  Her sister did. Tears glistened in her sweet eyes. “Thank you, Killy.”

  “Aunt Killy,” Willow began, “what happened to your face?”

  She could lie, but she never understood the concept of lying to kids. Well, except when she was their mother. “I got into a fight.”

  Green eyes went wide. “You did? Did you win?”

  She nodded. “I did.”

  “Aunt Killy always wins,” Shannon said. Killian met her gaze with a gentle smile. Their relationship had been forever changed, and she didn’t know to what extent, but she had a hopeful feeling it was for the better. The kid was going to need therapy, and even so, she’d carry the memory of the last few days with her for the rest of her life. This experience would change what kind of person she was destined to become.

  “Yeah!” Willow enthused, then demonstrated her own MMA skills by throwing a few punches and a front kick.

  “Whoa!” Dash cried. “Someone’s going to get hurt.”

  The little girl laughed. “Who are you?”

  “Willow,” her mother admonished. “Be polite. This is Dash, Aunt Killy’s friend.”

  “Are you her boyfriend?” Willow asked, eyes twinkling.

  “Yep,” Dash replied without hesitation. Then he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Willow.”

  She accepted the handshake. “Nice to meet you. Can I play with your dog?”

  “Knock yourself out.” When she ran over to Hank and his wagging tail, Dash offered his hand to Megan as well. “It’s been a while.”

  Megan dismissed his hand and went in for a hug instead. “Thank you for helping Killy get my little girl back.”

  “Mom,” Shannon said.

  “I’m going to thank him, Shannon. I’d like to meet this Story woman as well.”

  Killian cleared her throat. “You already have, Meg. She took you and Wills to the airport.”

  Her sister’s eyes widened. “Really? Huh. She looked so normal.”

  “Mm, no. You guys want to stay for dinner?”

  They did end up staying. Killian took out more chicken and while Dash cooked, she, Megan, and Shannon went into the living room to talk.

  Shannon took Killian’s arm as she lowered herself into a chair, helping her. “Thanks, sweetie, but I’ve got it.”

  The girl sat on the sofa with her mother and shifted awkwardly. “This seems weird.”

  Killian nodded. “It does, yeah.”

  “Is he dead?”

  She nodded. “He is. They all are.” From what she’d heard, there hadn’t been a soul left standing after the shootout at Rank’s compound. For once, fate had decided to toss her a bone and they’d wiped each other out, including the guy who called Shannon baby girl.

  “Did you do it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Shannon watched her for a moment. “No. I guess not, but I’d still like to know.”

  “He did it himself.”

  She didn’t look convinced, and that was all right. It wasn’t as though Killian hadn’t put the gun in his hand. “He beat you up pretty bad.”

  “I’ve had worse. That cane was pretty nasty, though.”

  Shannon rubbed her shoulder through her sweater. “Yeah.”

  Megan wiped her eyes. “I’m just so glad you’re both okay.”

  Killian and Shannon shared a slight smile. For the first time since the girl’s birth Killian didn’t see Jason when she looked at her. She saw a little bit of herself. She wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about that.

  “How’s Cam?” she asked.

  Her sister straightened her shoulders. “He was upset when I told him, but more because he felt helpless than anything else. I think he understood once I explained the reason behind our secrecy.”

  “It was a good idea at the time,” Killian lamented. “I just wanted to protect everyone.”

  “But why didn’t you tell my father?” Shannon asked. “Jason, I mean.”

  She shrugged. “I was afraid, I guess. Afraid he’d leave me, or want me to have an abortion. I just knew you deserved better. I didn’t know he already had two kids.” Talk about babies having babies.

  “Can I meet them?” she asked.

  Killian thought about Jonah and how angry he was at his father and at her. “I don’t know. I can approach their mother if you want.” She glanced at Megan to make sure it was okay. Her sister nodded.

  “I do.”

  “Okay, then I’ll ask.”
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br />   “Do I have grandparents?”

  She shook her head. “They died a few years ago.” She wasn’t going to tell her they were both addicts and petty criminals. Not now, at any rate. Maybe later, if she was still curious.

  “I saw Madallya,” Shannon said after a moment’s silence. “She said you saved her.”

  Killian didn’t want to be anyone’s hero. “Story and I found her, yeah. She doing okay?”

  The girl nodded. “I think so. She’s still waiting on the HIV test. I guess that takes a while.”

  “She’ll need some therapy, probably,” Killian remarked. “Both of you will.” She couldn’t help but notice that Shannon hadn’t mentioned her own tests, or what medications she’d been given, though she was pretty sure it would be the same as Madallya, or at least similar.

  “I’ve already made an appointment,” Megan informed her, taking her daughter’s hand in hers. “Whatever she needs.”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” Shannon said softly, but it was a lie and they all knew it.

  “You will be,” Killian promised her. “It will take time, but you’ll come back from this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I know it for a fact.” She wasn’t going to tell the kid they had a rapist in common. It just seemed…wrong. And it might make Shannon think Brand had targeted her for other reasons than the simple fact that he was a douchebag. There was going to come a moment in her recovery when Shannon blamed Killian for what happened to her. She knew it was coming, and she’d be ready for it, but that didn’t mean she was going to give the kid more wood for the fire.

  “What are you going to do now?” her sister asked.

  Killian shrugged. “Go back to work, I guess.” Though, she had to admit, the idea of mixing drinks and handling drunks really didn’t appeal to her after the last few days. She wanted…more. Take away the personal anxiety of the situation and she had felt more alive than she had in years while looking for Shannon. It made her feel like she had a purpose. Maybe it was stupid, but it was how she felt.