As they waited, Jason showed up.
He bustled into the lobby, brushing a faint dusting of snow from him coat.
“Kyara,” he said, rushing over. “I'm so sorry about this. I'm sure it's all a big misunderstanding. Let me talk to Rich, I can get this all worked out.
Kyara stared at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him, her voice cold.
“I came to help,” he said. “Your brother wouldn't even be here if not for me.”
“No need to remind me of that,” she replied flatly. “But we have it under control. You aren't needed here. Nor are you wanted here. I told you last night: I don't need a white knight.”
Jason stared at here. Everyone else looked anywhere but at them. Then, without a word, Jason turned and left.
Kyara turned to her brother.
“That reminds me, I'll put you and Marcus up in a hotel, unless you want to try to jam into my apartment.”
Before he could reply, Marcus came out, his face unreadable. Mr. Buckner came behind, talking with Sheriff Marsh. The tension between them was clear, but the lawyer had a determined smile on his face.
“I'm glad we could come to an understanding, officer,” Buckner was saying.
The sheriff nodded once. His squinting eyes moved to lock on to Kyara as he spoke.
“Bullshit. Threatening lawsuits. It's a dangerous game you're playing,” spat Marsh. He turned to face the people in his lobby directly.
“I live in this town, and I wouldn't want police being afraid to investigate for fear of having to wade through some shit outsiders ride into town and stir up. Otherwise they might not want to show up when they're needed.” His eyes never left Kyara, making it clear what he meant. Marcus and Trip both started to bristle, but Buckner was already on it.
“I'm sure the sheriff's record will speak for itself,” shot back the lawyer before turning and herding the group in the lobby out into the cold.
They reached their cars before anyone said anything.
“That man,” declared Buckner, “is a jackass. We'll put him on the watch-list and see if we can't find someone to run against him next fall. In the meantime, you should be free to go about your lives.”
“Thank you so much for coming out,” said Trip, shaking the other lawyer's hand.
Buckner shook his head, his dark curls bouncing around his face.
“I'm just sorry I can't do more. We got the charges dropped, largely based on the fact that Marcus here didn't get his phone call, but we should be able to nail him for profiling. If we do, though, it could mean years of legal fights on a slim chance of winning. Like I said, we'll see if we can't beat him at the ballot box next fall.”
Contact information was exchanged and goodbyes were said. Kyara noticed right away how close together Ashley and Marcus stood, and Caitlin happily chatted with Trip, huddling close to him in the cold. She couldn't focus completely on the couples which seemed to be forming, though. Her eyes kept drifting to the pair of footprints, walking off in the snow to where Jason had briefly parked his car.
The wind outside rattled the windows of Kyara's apartment, promising bitter cold to anyone who went outside. Despite the trail-making being long over, Kyara had kept Tuesday afternoons as her evening off, and she'd never been happier about that decision. The snow outside was so think it blocked most of the light from the street lights. Tonight was a night to pick up her apartment, make some hot chocolate, and enjoy being alone in her apartment for the first time in weeks.
Not that Christmas with my brothers wasn't lovely, Kyara mused. It was. And the girls dropping by was a bonus. But a little time to sort things out would be nice.
She puttered about, putting a pan of milk on to boil for hot chocolate. As she moved around, Kyara's thoughts kept going back to that Christmas. Before she knew about her brothers, she'd planned to spend it with Jan and Jason. Not doing so, not even seeing them, had left a hole in her heart. She needed to think about what that hole meant, and if she was willing to do anything about it.
Kyara drifted to her front window, trying vainly to see the house across the street through the storm.
A noise from the kitchen broke her out of her contemplation.
Is someone at the door? Who would be out in this weather?
The distinct sound of wind howling through the now open frame made her hurry to investigate.
Three men stood in her kitchen, snow-covered ski masks covering their faces. Their coats were far too thin for the weather, and all three huddled away from the storm.
“What-?” asked Kyara.
Then she saw the gun in the largest man's hand, pointed right at her.
“Hey, Kyara,” said the man in back.
She knew that voice. It was her ex-boyfriend, Devante.
The third man closed the door behind them, slamming the lock home.
The man with the gun on her took charge.
“Sit down, bitch.” he snapped.
Kyara slowly sat down in a dining room chair. The men advanced into the room, looming over her.
“The deal was, you don't talk to nobody, you get to live. Now we hear about your brothers coming up here. You was supposed to disappear. That's some bullshit.”
The gang member aimed the gun directly at her face.
“Who the fuck did you tell?”
Oh God. Oh God, protect me. They must have been watching one of my brothers. They think I told. Oh God, what do I do? Kyara's mind spun wildly for some way out of this.
“No one, nothing, I swear. They just came for Christmas. That's all.” Kyara fought hard to keep her voice steady.
“Bitch, don't lie to me,” screamed the gun holder. “We know you met with a lawyer and the cops. You were in there all day!”
Oh, God, I'm going to die. Please, protect me.
“No, it wasn't like that. My brother got arrested was all. We had to get him out. I swear, no one knows anything,” Kyara's voice sounded slightly hysterical, even to herself.
Another of the intruders stepped forward, up behind the gun holder.
“Man, that's what the old lady at the store said. See? I told you she was OK,” Devante's voice sounded young, almost boyish, compared to the obvious leader.
I didn't know he did that for me.
The masked figure in front shook his head.
“I don't know how you convinced D to let her live in the first place. And I sure as hell didn't drive my ass all the way up here to let her live. Her not telling anyone just makes it cleaner, is all.”
His hands tightened on the gun.
A knock came at the door behind them.
Everyone froze.
The knock came again.
Without a word, Devante and the third man disappeared into the bathroom. The gun-holder slid sideways, going to stand in the kitchen. His weapon never moved off of her as he jerked his head, indicating that she should get the door.
The knock came again, harder and louder even against the background of the storm.
Slowly, Kyara stood and walked to answer the knock.
Jason stood in the cold, his face red and chapped from the biting wind. Kyara's heart leapt to her throat.
No. Don't be here. If anything happened to you, I can't go through that. I can't bear to see you hurt.
“Kyara,” he said, his voice strained. “Can I come in?”
I have to get him out of here. I have to keep him safe.
“No,” she said shortly. “It's cold. Go home, Jason.”
Jason looked as though she'd slapped him.
“Alright,” he said, “It's just my grandma said that there were some guys in town asking about you. And they had Georgia plates, so she really wanted, and I really wanted, well, I just figured that, because you were worried about being found, you'd want to know.”
No. No, no, no. Now they know I told people something. You have to get out of here.
“It's fine,” said Kyara. “I'm not worried about it.”
Jason gave her an inquiring look, but Kyara cut him off before he could open his mouth again.
“I can take care of myself. Have a good night, Jason.”
Jason stared at her as she slammed the door in his face.
A huge, rough hand grabbed Kyara's head and threw her into the kitchen, slamming her head hard against the stove. Pinpoints of light exploded behind her eyes and pain shot across her face.
By the time she blinked the pain away, all three men were back in the dining room. They studied her as she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet.
“I told you the bitch would tell people,” said the gunman.
Kyara's head felt strangely clear, the way it did when she was cooking. Now that he'd hit her, it was as if the fear had cleared. These were almost certainly the men who'd killed her father, standing in front of her. They would almost certainly kill her, too. Worse, they might harm the people she loved.
But this time, she might be able to stop that. She might be able to protect the people she cared about.
If she could escape.
Devante was arguing with the other two.
“Man, she didn't tell them anything other than she was hiding out. And they can't prove nothing even if she did. No one even seen our faces here. We don't got to do this,” he argued.
The gunman wasn't having any of it. His eyes never even left Kyara.
“Fuck that. Snitches gotta pay. Ty, go down stairs. This place is above a diner or something. We can make it look like there was a fire after we're done.”
The third gunman, who had yet to speak, hesitated for a minute, then went to the front door and out into the cold.
He went on the outside! They don't know about the inside stairs! Kyara quickly saw her way out. The stairs were only a few short steps away from where she leaned in the kitchen.
The gunman turned back to her.
“First, though, we're gonna have a little fun.” His eyes narrowed behind the ski mask.
“We don't need to do that, man,” said Devante from behind him.
The gunman turned slightly to look at Devante, his whole body radiating menace.
“The hell we don't. She deserves it, and you need to learn that bitches don't come before us. You're gonna help, too, prove your loyalty.” His voice was hard, his breathing heavy and fast as he got more excited.
That was when Kyara hit him with the pan.
The last bits of boiling milk, still hot from the stove from where she'd left it to warm, splashed across his face as he turned back. The pan itself hit the gun, knocking it up and away. He screamed, a sound of rage and pain, like an angry animal.
Kyara ran.
Fast as she could, Kyara stumbled towards the door downstairs. Her head was still swimming, making the stairs difficult, but she managed to pull the door closed behind her.
Have to get out before the third guy gets in downstairs. She tried to focus.
Tumbling out downstairs, she caught the third attacker from behind. He turned, the confusion written across his face rapidly turning to shock and anger. He turned, groping at his pocket for a gun. But he was in Kyara's world now. She knew this kitchen better than any place on Earth. She lurched to her left, grabbing knives from the block on the counter.
Her throws were off, but the thug had to duck as the metal flashed through the air. Still throwing, she stumbled to the door and out into the dining area. From there, she ran for the back door, praying she could get there before he recovered.
She hit the door with all her weight, stumbling out into the freezing snow.
The cold hit her like a slap to the face. She stumbled forward, the night swallowing the door behind her in just a couple steps. She turned towards Main Street, but heard shouts from the front of the building.
One of them must have come down the outside stairs, Kyara realized.
Turning, Kyara fled into the night.
The snow was bitterly cold against her legs, protected only by her flannel pajamas. Worse was the wind, which seemed to ignore her clothes entirely.
Harsh voices echoed in the dark, muted and displaced in the snow. They seemed to come from everywhere at once. Not knowing where her attackers were, Kyara pushed forward.
If I step into the light of the street, they'll see me and kill me for sure. But if I don't get out of this cold, I'm just as dead.
For a moment despair threatened to overwhelm her. Then she took another step forward, and another. Her body carried her on its own, fighting against the cold and the feeling of hopelessness in equal measure.
Sometime later, a minute or an eternity, she saw a familiar sign partially buried in the snow.
The Trail. If I can get to the old mill, I can hide and stay warm.
Desperately, Kyara pushed forward.
Keep your core warm, Kyara heard Jason's voice in her mind. “Your outside can freeze, but not your heart.”
Holding her arms close around her, Kyara rubbed at her chest as she pushed forward. Months of hiking this trail helped, but her feet still found every bump and twist, and she had to fight not to fall.
If you get soaked all over, you’ll never keep warm enough. Stay dry, stay warm, stay alive.
A gun shot shattered the night, followed by cursing. It sounded like the gunman, but it was so hard to tell in the snow and dark. Kyara looked back and saw her trail, painfully clear through the snow.
Stupid. Of course they can follow! No matter where I go, they can come right to me.
Even the heaviest snows have trouble getting below these older trees came Jason's voice in her mind once more. The needles can give you away, but you have to be a much more experienced tracker to pick up on that.
Kyara started peering through the darkness, looking for a place in the trail she could leap out.
The trail curves west. She focused on the left side of the trail.
Spying a looming shape off to the side, she made herself jump for it, hoping to leave a break in the trail as best as she could.
Her foot slipped, sending her sprawling in the snow. Shivering, she made herself stand and stumble between the drooping branches of an old pine. The tree cut the wind, and for a moment she sagged, wanting nothing more than to just lie down.
From behind her came more cursing. If he hadn't found the end of her tracks yet, he would soon.
Teeth chattering, Kyara stumbled to the other side of the tree. There she stared at a tangled knot of interwoven branches and brush.
Twist sideways as you enter, you can ease between the branches. When one starts to catch on you, you can pivot and move past it.
Hunching forward, Kyara slid her body into the underbrush.
Behind her, she heard her pursuer find the end of her trail and start thrashing around. She narrowed her focus to moving, getting as much space as she could between her and the thug.
Time and space narrowed to the next moment, the next step. Kyara couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything but keeping going. Staying in motion meant staying alive.
Suddenly there was no ground beneath her feet. Kyara slid down the slope, rolling through the thick, wet snow before coming to a painful stop. Opening her eyes, she stared up a huge, dark mass. It took her a moment to put together what it could be, to decide if it was an enemy. Then her fogging mind put it together. It was the mill. She had made it.
Crawling, her hands numb in the snow, Kyara made her way inside.
Finally having a wall between her and the night was almost enough to cause her to collapse on the entrance. She couldn't though. She remembered that, though she was having trouble remembering why. The world was starting to swim, and she was starting to feel warm all over again.
For my next surprise, came a voice, rich and masculine. It seemed to be guiding her, teasing her onward.
Kyara dragged herself to a corner, her numb hands fumbling at the latch of an old travel case. Inside rested an old, blue sleeping bag. Close to collapse, Kyara pulled herself inside, too tired to even take off her wet clothes.
If you get soaked all over, you’ll never keep warm enough. Stay dry, stay warm, stay alive.
Darkness took her.
The Ranger's Passionate Love Page 14
