by ML Guida
A jolt of helplessness shot through Skye, twisting her stomach into a jumbled mess. Blood seeped down Walfea’s shoulder and down his side, pooling onto the hardwood floor.
Skye put her hand on her forehead. “I don’t think we can lift him, especially when he’s passed out.” She limped over to the couch ignoring the throb in her ankle. She seized cushions and tossed them onto the floor. “Let’s roll him into the living room and put him on top of pillows to make him more comfortable.”
Sandra nodded. “Okay, but first, I need to make sure everything’s locked up tight.”
“Sure.” Skye wiped Walfea’s white hair off his sweating face. “Walfea, can you hear me?”
But he didn’t answer. Only the ticking clock answered her.
She examined his wounds. What if his organs were different than humans like Star Trek’s Mr. Spock’s? Who was she kidding? Of course, he was different. He could change into a bear.
She placed her head on his chest to see if his heart was in the same place as a human’s would be. A slight heartbeat thumped in her ear.
Sandra hurried back into the room. “Everything’s secure. Do you think anyone heard the shots?”
“Maybe. If they did, help should be here soon. In the meantime, let’s try and move him over there.”
They both put their hands underneath his armpits and dragged him. Skye’s arms shook and sweat rolled into her eyes. Pain throbbed in her ankle, but she refused to give up. Sandra panted as hard as she was. Finally, they dropped him onto the cushions.
“Now, what do we do?” Sandra sank onto a nearby recliner.
Skye sat next to Walfea. “I don’t know, but we need to stop the bleeding.”
“I’ll boil some hot water. Skye, we need to get help.”
Skye limped over to the linen closet and got some towels. “Sandra, Hector’s out there. Do you actually think we’d get very far with him tracking us?”
Sandra looked through the blinds. “One of us has to go for the truck or car.”
“I don’t have my keys. Do you have yours?”
Sandra shut the blinds. “No, but we have to try.”
Her desperation wasn’t lost on Skye. She shivered. No telling what Hector was capable of. The man was deranged. “I’m not going to leave Walfea here alone.”
Sandra brought over a bowl of water. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”
Sandra wasn’t fooling Skye. She was terrified, determined to get out of here.
Skye had to keep her calm. “Could you look for a first-aid kit? Or perhaps a needle or thread.”
“Yes, sure.” She looked at her questioningly. “You’re going to do surgery?”
“Not surgery.” Skye ripped Walfea’s blood soaked shirt and gasped. It was as if his skin had turned dark red. So, Arians had red blood.
Sandra covered her mouth. “Oh, God.”
Skye dipped the tip of the towel into the water and gingerly wiped down his chest. Blood washed away, revealing a one-inch puffy wound on his shoulder and another one near his ribs. Her churning stomach immediately went sky-diving.
“I have to do something to stop the bleeding. Getting him to the hospital is out of the question.” Skye’s voice was amazingly calm for someone who was one step away from running around the house screaming we’re all gonna die.
“Those are horrible.” Sandra rubbed her arms. Her face had turned zombie green. “I’ll go look in the bathroom for a first-aid kit.”
“Thanks.” Skye examined his gun-shot wounds that were perfectly round and deep. She pushed back his hair with her shaking hand. “Walfea, can you hear me? Please, don’t die.”
A shadow moved across the window. Her breath ceased. Her heart jumped around like a jack rabbit. She jerked her hand back.
Shitshitshitshitshit.
Skye crawled over to the window. A doe stared back at her with large questioning brown eyes.
“Jheez.” She rested her sweating forehead on her hand. She wasn’t the praying type, but she said, “Please, please, please God, send help.” Tears blurred her vision and her throat choked up on her tiny plea. “Please don’t let Walfea die.”
He groaned a pitiful sound that stole her heart.
Losing him sent her into motion. Adrenaline pumped through her as if God had thrown a thunderbolt.
Sandra came back with first-aid kit. “Here. I also found a needle and tweezers.”
Skye took them with her shaking hand. “Thanks.” She could do this. “Did you sterilize them?”
“Yes. Are you sure you can do this?”
“No, but if I don’t, he could die.”
This was too far out in left field. What if she did something wrong? But she found herself sticking both the needle and tweezer in the bowl of alcohol that Sandra had brought her. What if this was the opposite to Arians? For all she knew, she could be killing him.
She bit her lip and studied the wound closer on his shoulder. “Sandra, I can’t tell if the bullet exited or not.”
“Roll him over.”
“You’re going to have to help.”
Skye’s arms shook as she pulled on his front, Sandra pushing from behind, sweat rolling down her face. “Sandra…can you see…anything?”
“It…it went through…There’s an exit wound.”
They gently dropped him, both sweating.
“Okay. Now for the fun part,” Skye murmured.
She took out bandages and a wheel of suture. God, could she really do this? She’d never stitched up a wound in her whole life. Nursing was not her thing. Her hands were shaking so bad, she could barely thread the needle. She peered at his wound. “Here goes nothing.” She stuck the needle in his flesh near the wound on his shoulder.
Walfea hissed and his body arched up.
She yanked her hands away as if they were on fire. “Oh, God, Walfea, I’m so sorry!”
He didn’t answer, and his body went slack, but he was drenched in sweat. What if shrapnel had exploded inside him, hurting him? Or worse, killing him.
Skye wiped her forehead with her arm. “Sandra, I think there may be some shrapnel along the wound. You need to hold him while I try to dig out the bullet.”
Sandra looked at Walfea as if he were a snake ready to strike. “Skye, I can’t hold him down. He’s too strong.”
She glared. “Sandra, please. I can’t do this by myself.”
“Fine.” Sandra held down one arm.
“I’ll sit on the other.” Skye hoped her weight would hold Walfea down, so she could at least attempt to take out the bullet.
Someone banged on the door. “Open up! Police!”
Skye’s heart nearly bolted out of her ribs. She and Sandra looked at each other. Sandra’s face was almost as pale as Walfea’s. Neither Sandra or Skye spoke. Only their loud breathing broke the silence. Was this the police or Hector pretending to be the police? Hector was a master of disguise. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d posed as a cop.
“We know you’re in there open up. Ms. Rotella, are you all right?” This time, the voice was louder and stronger.
Sandra wet her lips. “I’m…I’m here. I’m fine.”
Skye tilted her head. “Go look, Sandra.” She squeezed Walfea’s hand, willing him to survive, but his hand remained limp.
Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.
“Ms. Rotella, we need you to open the door. Or we’ll have to break down the door.”
“Sandra, you need to answer.” Skye’s hard voice seemed to penetrate Sandra’s deer-in-the-headlights look.
“Okay.” Sandra peered through the peep-hole and rested her head on the door, breathing hard. “Skye, it’s the police.” She unlocked the deadbolt.
“Are you sure?” Skye lifted her hands that were drenched in blood. God, the cops were going to think that Walfea was a human sacrifice.
“Yes, I’m sure.” She opened the door to two scowling cops.
Over Sandra’s head, Sandra could see one of them. With his beard and bushy hair, he
looked like he’d be more at home in a flannel shirt and jeans rather than a stiff blue uniform.
“Ms. Rotella? I’m Officer Bradley.” He flashed out his badge. “This is Officer Drummonds.”
Sandra nodded. “Yes?”
“There were reports of gunfire out here.” He tilted his head. “We found blood over by the tree. Was anyone hurt?”
Walfea moaned.
Bradley narrowed his eyes. “You need to stand aside, ma’am.”
Skye wiped her bloodied hands off on the towel. “Sandra, let them in. We need to get Walfea to the hospital. Now.”
“Yes, of course.” Sandra stood aside as the two cops rushed inside.
“Arms in the air where I can see them.” Bradley unleashed his gun faster than Skye could say Jimmy Crickets.
“Don’t shoot!” Skye raised her shaking hands slowly. “He was shot. We were trapped here with no way out.”
Sandra jerked her arms straight over her head, her eyes as wide as saucers.
“Over against the couch where I can see you.” Bradley spoke into the microphone on his collar. “We’ve got a man-about thirty. Shot at two-four-five Blue Jay in Bill’s Ranch. At least two gun-shot wounds. Looks like he’s lost a lot of blood. We need paramedics and back-up.”
“Drummonds, check the rest of the house.”
“I’m on it.” Drummonds pulled out his revolver and proceeded to move through the house.
Bradley knelt down next to Walfea, his revolver still aimed at Sandra and Skye. He put his hand over Walfea’s nose. “He’s still breathing.”
“All clear.” Drummonds returned.
Now, Sandra and Skye had two police specials aimed at them.
“Please, help him,” Skye murmured. “I wasn’t sure what to do.” Tears blurred her eyes. “I thought…I thought…he was going to die. We had…no way…out of here.”
“Check them out.” Bradley tilted his head. “I’ll cover you.”
Drummonds nodded and shielded his revolver. He quickly patted down Skye and then Sandra. “They’re clean. No weapons.”
Don’t look behind the mirror. Don’t look behind the mirror.
Or she’d have a host of questions to explain. If the cops messed with Walfea’s weapons, they could all be blasting to the moon.
“It was Hector Savage,” Sandra blurted. “He’s been stalking Skye. He’s crazy.”
Skye felt the blood draining from her face. Shit, they just went from the frying pan into the fire.
Drummonds stared at Skye with a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Shit, I know who you are.”
Bradley frowned. “Who is she?”
“She’s the lead singer for the Vandals. I’m a big fan of yours Ms. Carr.”
A tremor went down Skye’s back and she shivered. Hector had said the same thing, then made her life a living hell.
She pasted her rock-star smile on. “Thank you.”
Sirens echoed in the background.
“You can lower your arms.” Bradley slid his gun back into his holster. “Now, who is Hector Savage?”
Skye didn’t want to go through the whole torrid history that Sandra had opened, but she didn’t have much choice. “He was a roadie of mine and became obsessed with me.”
“Go on.”
“I had one drink with him, and he took it the wrong way, thought it meant something, but it didn’t. He broke into my home once, then I got a restraining order.”
“Was he arrested?”
Skye wasn’t going into details about that night. If Bradley wanted to find out more, he could look into the file. “Yes, but he got off on a technicality.”
“How did he get off?”
“His attorney was able to prove that the arresting officers didn’t read him his rights and claimed I was making this up for a publicity stunt.” She couldn’t hide her bitterness. It was as if someone had paid off the judge.
“When was his trial?”
“About a year ago. I just can’t seem to shake him. Look, what’s important is Walfea.”
“I know, Ms. Carr. The ambulance is almost here. Can you give me a description of Hector Savage?”
“Latino. Thirty-three years old. He’s about six three, all muscle, and mean. He’s got long black hair that he always wears it in a ponytail and gray eyes.” She folded her arms across her chest.
Sandra jumped in. “He also has a mustache.”
Skye shuddered, thinking of how the hairs on his mustache had scratched her skin.
Bradley pulled down his microphone attached to his lapel on his jacket. “Check on the whereabouts of one Hector Savage. Latino. Age thirty-three. About six three. Long black hair in a ponytail” He looked between her and Sandra. “Are you sure it was Hector? Did you actually see him?”
Sandra and Skye glanced at each other. Skye shook her head. “No, we can’t swear to that. The forest was too thick and we couldn’t see who was shooting. It all happened so fast.”
“What’s Walfea’s last name?”
“Walfea Arian,” Sandra said. “He’s the caretaker for this place. My mother hired him about a month ago.”
Skye hid her smile. Smart little bear.
Two young paramedics rushed inside with a stretcher. The blond one knelt down next to him and pulled out stethoscope and put it on Walfea’s chest. “Heart-rate is low.”
The other one opened Walfea’s eye lid. “Looks like he’s going into shock.” He put an oxygen mask over Walfea’s nose and mouth. “We’ve got to get him to the hospital.”
They quickly lowered the stretcher.
“God, he’s heavy,” the blond groaned. He glanced at Drummonds. “We need help.”
The three men grunted and hissed, as they maneuvered Walfea onto the stretcher.
“I want to go with him,” Skye blurted.
The blond paramedic frowned. “Only family––”
“I’m his girlfriend.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “I won’t leave him.”
Drummonds smacked the blond paramedic in the arm. “Don’t you idiots realize who this is?”
The blond paramedic’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God, it’s Skye Carr.”
Drummonds nodded. “Let her go with him.”
The other paramedic frowned as if he were deciding whether they should break procedure.
His partner gestured. “Come on, Bobby, it’s Skye Carr.”
Skye held her breath and clenched her fist. Even if she had to ride on top of the ambulance, she wasn’t going to leave Walfea. Sandra would be safe with the cops, but her gut told her that Walfea would be in danger. Hector wasn’t finished with him.
“Take her with him.” Bradley’s strong voice made the decision for them.
“It’s on both of your heads,” Bobby grumbled.
Skye smiled. “Thank you.” She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck. She’d definitely send them something for helping.
She limped as she followed Walfea. Bradley clasped her arm.
“Why are you limping?”
“Sprained my ankle a couple of days ago.”
Bradley gestured with his hand. “Go ahead, but we’ll be back with more questions.”
Her heartbeat sky-rocketed. Things were about to get much, much worse. She wanted him to bring the marines, because that’s what they’d need to defeat Hector.
“Sure, fine.” She couldn’t hide the fear settling on her like a thunderstorm.
Chapter 16
Walfea slowly woke to beeps and pings, but his eyes refused to open. He inhaled the smell of antiseptic and ammonia. Burning pain blazed in his shoulder and side, erasing all rational thought. Cramps swelled in his gut as if something were rotting inside him.
He released a loud growl.
“Walfea?” A feminine voice penetrated his misery.
He caught the scent of sweet vanilla.
“Skye?” His voice came out hoarse and his scratchy throat hurt.
She clasped his hand. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Where
am I?” He strained to open his eyes.
“You’re in a hospital. Do you remember what happened? You were shot.”
The memory of walking to the caretaker’s house…the sudden scent of danger…Pain…Hot pain…Flying…flooded over him.
“Vaguely.” His throat was scratchy. “I can’t open my eyes.”
“You just came out of surgery.” Her voice choked. “The doctors had to remove two bullets. They said you lost a lot of blood. If they hadn’t gotten to you…”
She cared. He could hear it in her shaky voice. He wanted to smile, but his numb lips refused to move. “Takes…more than…human bullets to kill me.” Luckily, his anatomy was similar to humans. Otherwise, he’d have ended up a science experiment.
He moistened his dry lips. “Hector?”
“The cops don’t know. We suspect Hector, but we’re not sure. Walfea, he’s going to be furious. He said if I ever went to the cops again…” Her voice trailed off.
She was so scared and he was as helpless as a newborn cub. This wasn’t over. She and the security team suspected Hector, but he wasn’t so sure. Hector was just a pawn.
Someone was helping Hector. Someone wanted Skye out of the way.
“Skye?” a male voice asked.
“Steve! What are you doing here?”
“I came as soon as I heard.”
Shades, Steve Walker was here. Walfea gritted his teeth and growled. He drew on his bear strength and pushed through the fog, puzzling his brain. He opened one eye.
A blurry white room went in and out of focus. His stomach jolted. He took deep breaths to keep all his jumping up and down gut from crawling up his throat.
He slowly opened both eyes again. Shades were pulled down, barely letting any light inside, but it was enough to see Steve Walker–enemy number one. Hugging Skye.
Sharp pain stabbed Walfea’s temples, and he tensed, clenching his fists tightly. His bear released a low growl. Skye was actually hugging Steve. She had on her cap and all of her red hair was tucked underneath. Why did she trust this guy so much? He was dangerous.
Skye stopped hugging him. She clasped his arms. “Who called you?
A blast of cold air blew onto Walfea. He shivered, and his teeth chattered. The air conditioner must be on full-blast.
