Bullets & Bonfires

by Autumn Jones Lake

  Brady picks up the call. “Car thirty-two, headed to the four-fifteen in progress.” He pauses. “Send additional back-up.”

  “We’re still at least ten minutes away.”

  “Liam. You need to chill. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll handle it when we get there.”

  My entire body freezes. My vision’s narrowed on the road in front of me, an object that stands in the way of getting to Brianna. “If he hurts her, he dies. Don’t interfere.”

  Brady sighs but doesn’t argue.

  Not wanting to spook Chad, I flip the lights and sirens off as we approach the street.

  I bring the car to a halt at the end of the driveway and throw open my door. The only other car is Bree’s, parked right next to the porch. The driver’s side door is wide open.

  The front door to the house is closed.

  “Easy,” Brady mutters as we slowly approach.

  From inside, there’s a shotgun blast.

  “Shit,” he mutters. I take off, headed for the front door, Brady right behind me. At the door, I pause, listening for any sounds. I won’t be any good to Bree if I get my head blown off.

  Brady motions that he’ll circle around to the back of the house and meet me inside.

  I step over the threshold, checking carefully behind the door. The closet door’s wide open and I check that too before closing it.

  No one’s in the living room, although it’s clear there’s been a struggle. Careful not to touch anything, I move farther into the house.

  The back door is busted wide open, splinters of wood everywhere.

  There’s a shotgun blast in the wall next to the door.

  “Bree!” I shout. “Where you at, baby?”

  “I’m here.” Her voice is so thin and strained, I don’t realize it’s her until she peeks out from behind the bathroom door. “Is he dead?” she asks as I approach, my gaze smoothly sliding over every nook and crevice of the house, freezing on the red droplets spattered across the white kitchen tile and out the back door. Dark spots mingle with a fine red mist on the wall.

  Brady comes through the back door, shaking his head. “Where is she?

  “I got her.” I focus on her reddened face. “Bree, where are you hurt?”

  “I’m alive,” she answers, sounding as if she’s going into shock.

  “Liam!” Brady shouts from the back door.

  I glance down at Bree. “Stay where you are.”

  Brady signals to me, and a second later I realize why. I jog over the wet grass to him. “This your guy?” he asks in a calm voice.

  From the ground, Chad gasps for air.

  “Jesus. He took it right in the gut,” Brady mutters.

  I stare down at Chad, not feeling a damn thing other than concern for Bree. “I told you to stay away from her.”

  Chad’s eyes close.

  “He ain’t surviving that,” Brady says. “I’ll give it a few before calling the ambulance.”

  “Shit.” I did not want Bree put through this. Being responsible for the death of someone—no matter how awful a human being—isn’t something that ever leaves you. Someone she was in love with? I can’t calculate the amount of emotional damage this might do to her. “Fuck!”

  Brady watches my outburst with a passive expression. “Your girl did good.”

  I let out another string of curses.

  “Go back and make sure she’s all right,” Brady insists, giving me a slight push away from the body. In a lower voice he adds, “You know there’ll be a lot of questions thrown at her.”

  “Not tonight,” I snap. “She needs to go to the hospital.”

  He shakes his head, knowing as well as I do that Bree will have to be questioned tonight. “I’ll do what I can,” he promises.

  Sirens fill the air and the sounds of cars skidding to a stop on the street reach us.

  “I’ll take care of it. Go get her.”

  Bree’s on the couch when I return to the house. Her cheeks are devoid of color and she looks so much like the frightened teenager she’d once been. I crouch down in front of her and place my hand on her leg. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “Everywhere,” she whispers through chattering teeth. “He hurt me. He kept coming at me,” she says without meeting my eyes.

  In a gentler tone, I say, “Bree, look at me.” I give her leg a tender squeeze.

  She blinks and stares right through me.

  “I finally fought back.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Pain.

  Crashing into me from every part of my body. Battering and dragging me into a dark undertow then spitting me back out onto a jagged shoreline.

  I killed him.

  A man I once thought I loved is dead because of me.

  My hands ache and throb. They’ve fought hard and it shows. They’ve been tested for gunshot residue, even though I told everyone I did it. I shot him.

  It was either him or me.

  Those last few minutes are a whirl of pain and fear. So much fear that he’d reach me before I reached the shotgun. Fear that he’d pry the gun out of my hands and use it against me. So much terror racing through my body.

  Then his fear as he realized, too late, that I wasn’t fucking around. That I was done being battered by him.

  Him or me.

  More fear when I wasn’t sure if I’d hit him or scared him off. If he’d been hurt or I’d just made him even angrier.

  So much relief when I heard Liam’s voice.

  Then the horror of knowing I actually killed someone.

  Liam stays by my side the whole way to the hospital. Refuses to leave while I’m questioned by the sheriff’s office. They warn him the State Troopers will be called in because of our relationship.

  He still doesn’t leave my side.

  My nails are ragged and torn. My cheek, throat, and jaw hurt. My knees, legs, hip all ache. Bruises are already showing, like a map of everything I endured tonight.

  The painkiller they gave me barely took the edge off.

  Nothing’s broken. On the outside, anyway. Inside, I’m shattered and splintered.

  I want to go home.

  Wait. I don’t have a home.

  Liam brushes his hand against my arm. Afraid to touch me. Afraid he’ll hurt me. “Let’s get you home.”

  “I don’t have a home,” I utter the words out loud this time.

  “Yes, you do. With me.” He tucks some hair behind my ear and kisses my forehead. “Always.”

  “Liam,” I croak. I want to tell him how much I love him and how sorry I am that it came to this. That if he needs to put some distance between us, it’s okay. We both know that eventually my shitty life choices might end up costing him his job.

  An imposing State Trooper steps into the small hospital room where I’m waiting to be discharged. I can’t focus and my throat’s so raw I’m barely able to answer his questions.

  Liam fills in the blanks, which only seems to irritate our interrogator. I pick up on the subtle insinuations woven into his questions.

  How did Deputy Hollister arrive first on the scene?

  What’s the nature of your relationship with Deputy Hollister?

  How well did you know the victim, Deputy Hollister?

  Victim my ass.

  That last question, directed at Liam, pisses me off so much, it finally snaps me out of my fog. I throw the blanket off and point to my neck with one hand while holding out my other wrist. “Chad did this.” I don’t even recognize my voice, it’s so scratchy and rough. “He was trying to kill me. It was him or me.”

  He finally seems satisfied. Or maybe it’s the fact that the day Chad was released from jail for attacking me, he defied the restraining order and attacked me again. That can’t look good for the judge who granted bail.

  The hospital tried to call in a therapist, but I can’t do any more tonight. Can’t speak to another person.

  Except for the bruising around my neck and every single part of my body hurting, I’m f
ine and the hospital finally releases me.

  Liam drives us to his apartment while I doze on and off in the front seat.

  “Did someone call my brother?” I ask when we step into Liam’s apartment.

  “I’ll call him in the morning,” he assures me and I’m too tired to argue otherwise.

  “Can I…I need to take a shower.”

  “Okay.” He leads me into the bathroom where we both undress and he flips the water on. I don’t dare look in the mirror. I don’t need another reminder of the damage Chad inflicted on me.

  “He didn’t… Did he hurt you? Anywhere else?” he asks, holding his hand out to help me into the shower.

  “No.” I flip both thumbs up. “I went for the soft tissue like Sully taught me.” I try to force a smile, but it hurts too much.

  He kisses me on the forehead. “Good girl.”

  This is no sexy-time shower. It’s a please-wash-this-nightmare-off-me shower. When I’m clean from head to toe, I turn in Liam’s arms and press my face against his chest. Under my cheek, his skin is slick and warm. His heart beats strong and steady.

  A harsh sob breaks free from my throat, maybe from my very soul, it hurts so much.

  The pain, anger, fear, uncertainty, all of it spills down my cheeks.

  Liam holds me tighter.

  “Shhh, everything’s okay, Bree. You’re safe. You did so good.”

  I know he’s right, but I can’t accept it right now. Instead, I hold on to him tighter, until the tears stop rolling down my cheeks.

  When we’re finished, Liam gently pats me dry and slips a T-shirt over my head. His jaw clenches with every new bruise or mark he encounters, but he doesn’t say a word. He tucks me into bed and slides in next to me. Neither of us seem to be able to sleep though.

  “I’m scared,” I whisper.

  “You’re safe now,” he assures me. I wrap my fingers around his. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it there sooner. When I got the call that he’d been released, I hauled ass. That’s when the 911 call came in.” He pauses and faces me. “I thought I’d lose my mind if I didn’t get to you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I rasp.

  “Why were you at Vince’s?” he asks gently. “Were you uncomfortable here?”

  “No. I forgot my phone charger and I didn’t want you to try to call me and be worried if you couldn’t reach me.” Hot tears pour down my cheeks. I’m surprised I have any tears left.

  He runs his hand over my hair gently soothing me. “Shhh, okay. It’s okay.”

  “I’m scared—”

  “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

  “Not for me.” A little frustration enters my voice. He doesn’t see the bigger picture. “I don’t want this to ruin your career.”

  He reaches out and snaps on the light. The expression on his face is all intensity and passion. “Bree, please hear me when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about my job or anything else. Your safety is the only thing I’m worried about.”

  “You might regret that one day.”

  “I’ll never be sorry for loving you.” He snaps the light off and pulls me into his arms. “You’re worth any risk, and I’ll protect you with my last breath.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The next morning I call in to work and stay with Bree. She mostly sleeps and cries. I feed her soup, water, and pain meds.

  On the second day, she seems better. I still call in to work.

  On the third morning, someone’s fist against my front door wakes me way earlier than I planned on rolling out of bed.

  Brianna sits up and stares at the bedroom door with wide eyes and I decide I’m going to punch whoever’s on the other side of the door.

  I’ve been dreading this. So far, I’ve held off anyone coming to question her again. But that’s only going to fly for so long.

  “Bree,” I say in my calmest voice. My gaze lands on the bruises around her neck and fuck, but I’m ready to explode. “It might be someone here to question you. I want you to stay here.”

  Her frightened eyes meet mine. “Why?”

  I’ve thought about this a lot in the last few days, even paid a hefty retainer to the best criminal defense attorney in the area. Just in case. “I have an attorney I want you to speak with before you answer any more questions.”

  “Why? I didn’t do anything wrong.” Her lips settle into a grim line. At least her mood seems better today.

  “Please. For me. Stay in here.”

  She runs into the bathroom and locks the door.

  When I’m sure she’s safe, I throw on a pair of sweats, pad out to the living room, and open the door.

  Vince.

  Fuck. He called yesterday. He’d gotten stranded at the airport in Hong Kong.

  Despite looking like someone who spent the last forty-eight hours sleeping in an airport and on a plane, he shouts as soon as he sees me.

  “What the fuck!?” he explodes, shoving his way into my apartment. “You didn’t say my house is a fucking crime scene. Where’s Bree?” he asks, stomping from room to room. “Where the hell is she? Is she okay?”

  “Calm down.”

  He rubs his hands over his face. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. Where’s my sister?”

  “I’m fine, Vince,” Bree answers from the doorway to my bedroom.

  Match, meet powder keg.

  My best friend’s gaze goes from Bree—standing there in my shirt and nothing else—to me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice drops to a deadly calm tone.

  “Vince—”

  His fists tighten at his sides. “Liam, so help me God if you offer up some lame excuse for fucking my sister, I’ll punch you in the crotch.” His angry glare swings back to Bree. “Get dressed and get in my car.”

  She takes a few steps closer until she’s standing by my side. “No,” she answers in the strongest voice I’ve heard her use in days.

  “Vince,” I snap, taking his attention off Bree. “She’s staying with me. She’s with me,” I repeat. Fuck, it feels good to say that out loud. To finally say it to my best friend. Next to me, Bree bumps against my arm and wraps her fingers around mine. “We’re together.” I feel like shouting it a hundred more times.

  “The fuck you are,” Vince growls. “I asked you to look after her and instead you fuck her?”

  “So help me, Vince, if you talk about us that way one more time, I’m tossing you out on your ass.” Bree squeezes my hand. “Watch your mouth,” I add.

  “My love life is none of your business, Vince,” Bree says.

  Vince isn’t used to backtalk from his baby sister. “The hell it’s not. After Chad, you’re out of your fucking mind if you think what you do isn’t my business.”

  “Don’t,” I growl, stepping forward. “We’re not just messing around. I love her and we’re together. Deal with it.”

  His icy glare melts a little when he turns to Bree. “What the fuck!?” His eyes widen when he finally notices the bruises covering her legs, arms and neck.

  “Chad attacked me. At the house,” she answers softly.

  He stomps over to us, and I push Bree behind me. “You were supposed to be looking out for her. You say you’re with my sister and you let this happen? That’s how you take care of her?” Venom drips from every word.

  “Don’t you dare blame him,” Bree defends.

  Vince doesn’t need to blame me. Guilt’s been wrapped around my neck since the moment I heard the 911 call. I did fuck-all to protect her and that stings more than any words or punches Vince might throw at me.

  If Vince hadn’t lashed out at Liam, I’d almost feel bad for him. Too stunned to say anything else, he drops down onto the sofa and shakes his head.

  He throws another glare at Liam before settling his gaze on me. We stare at each other. Him taking in my injuries. Me taking in how much older and more tired he seems.

  I swear my big, strong, scary brother seems ready to break when he says,
“Come here. I’m sorry.”

  He stands and beckons me closer.

  Still mad at him for blaming Liam, I approach slowly. Vince embraces me carefully and I let out a muffled sob. This is the brother I remember. I may have tried to convince myself otherwise, but I’ve missed him so much these last few years.

  “Tell me what happened, Brianna. Please.”

  I sob harder and can’t get the words out.

  “That little shit got out on bail and attacked her,” Liam explains for me.

  “Where were you?” he asks, with less accusation than before, but I still don’t care for his tone.

  “It’s not Liam’s fault,” I mumble against his shirt.

  He makes a growly-grumbling sound that doesn’t suggest he’s convinced.

  “Bree dealt with him,” Liam says with a note of pride in his voice. I’m not quite there yet. I’m still too relieved that I’m alive. I don’t think I’ll ever be proud I killed someone. But I am proud that I survived.

  Vince’s hands lightly grip my shoulders and he pulls away. “Tell me everything.”

  I swallow hard. It still hurts to talk and it really hurts to go over the events again. “I stopped at the house to get something. He broke in. Tried to choke the shit out of me.” I turn and take Liam’s hand. “I broke free finally and went for the shotgun.”

  “Since when do you even know how to use a shotgun? I thought you were terrified of it.”

  “Liam taught me how.”

  His gaze darts to Liam. No wild interpretation skills are needed to recognize the accusation on his face.

  “I’m fine,” I say, pulling away. “Or I will be.”

  “Where’s Chad now?” Vince asks.

  “Dead,” Liam answers.

  A strangled cry rips out of my throat and Liam takes me in his arms.

  “Jesus Christ,” my brother breathes out. “What kind of bullshit is that, Liam? He was out on bail and attacked her. They better not even think of charging her with anything.”

  “They’re investigating. The State Troopers were called in. But it’s plain as day what went down.”

  “Will they question her again?”

  “I have it covered.”