Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)
Page 14
"Oh my god, I think your engine's on fire!" I exclaim, and begin frantically waving my hand in front of my face.
"What the fuck!?" the man yells, and the tires screech as he turns onto the shoulder and slows down.
That's what I was waiting for. I take a quick glance behind us to check for oncoming cars, and then in one motion, I unlock my door and push it open. The car is still in motion as I launch myself out onto the pavement. I don't roll as much as I intended to and I yell in pain as I take most of the impact on my shoulder. But I know I can't waste whatever little head start I have.
I sprint across the highway, jump over the shoulder. I look around for cars to flag down, but there aren't any. I head straight into the trees, praying the man isn't a fast runner himself.
"You bitch!" I hear him scream behind me. I risk one glance back to see him vaulting over the shoulder. He has to wait for a car to pass, and I look around frantically. I can't see an end to the tree line. No houses or another road. Fuck. Maybe I have enough of a head start to loop around back toward the road. I curse myself as I head diagonally back to the highway. I should have run straight along it in the first place and waited for a car to come along.
I see the branch underfoot too late, and catch my left toes squarely on it. I go down hard, slamming my hip and chest into the ground. As I scramble to my feet, I taste blood in my mouth. I must have bit my cheek as I fell. My ankle pounds as I try to regain my speed. There's a crashing noise to my right and the man appears, holding a black handgun. He's almost cut me off from the road, but I change direction as quickly as possible.
He's fast. I can hear him gaining on me. "Help!" I scream out, hoping someone driving by has their car windows open. "HELP!"
There's a loud noise like a pop behind me and I fall to the ground. I gasp and try to sit up, but my right arm doubles in pain.
"That was a warning. I won't miss again," I hear the man grunt behind me. I touch my left hand to my shoulder and look in shock as it comes away covered in red. I'm bleeding...he shot me. I begin to shake uncontrollably as I turn around and slowly stand up. "They want it to be slow."
My legs almost give out, but I manage to stay up. He's eyeing me warily, and his chest is heaving and his shirt soaked with sweat. At least I gave him a run for his money.
"I have wealthy friends," I gasp. "They'll pay—"
He begins to chuckle, a weird, high-pitched giggle. "I'm being well taken care of. Though truthfully, I'm not in this for the money."
"But the cartel—"
"Your father had a chance to pay them already. But he thought he was invincible, up here with his gated neighborhood and his fancy security. Luckily, I'm patient. I knew he'd make a mistake eventually."
"He didn't, actually." There are tears streaming down my face, and my right arm is starting to go numb, but for some reason I'm resisting the urge to laugh. "He cut me loose on purpose. See, we really don't get along, so he doesn't care if you kill me. It won't make a difference to him either way."
"Nice try."
"It's true."
"Well, unfortunately for you, I'm not a big picture kind of guy. I just do what they tell me. I have to say, though, you really surprised me, and I don't get surprised easily. They told me you'd be easy, but you're actually a pretty tough cookie."
"Gee, thanks."
He laughs again. "Back to the car," he orders me, gesturing with the gun.
"Why not here?"
"I need my saw," he states with a shrug. "I'm going to send you back to your father in pieces." I feel bile rise in my throat and the ground starts to swim in front of me. "Don't faint now, you were doing—"
"ALEXA!" The ground stops moving and I jerk my head up. Am I hearing things? But by the expression on the man's face I know he heard it, too.
"Don't say a word," he hisses, moving toward me. He steps behind me and wraps my hair around his hand. I resist the urge to cry out as he painfully pulls me behind a wide tree and sticks the gun against my ribs.
"Alexa!" The voice is farther away. It's Carter, I'd know his voice anywhere, but he's moving in the wrong direction.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I want to let myself crumble. I can't even hear him anymore. My body is humming with pain. My father doesn't care what happens to me. It would be so easy just to let it happen.
Carter's fierce anger when he found me in the pool flashes back to me. How dare you... My own anger begins to build. I'm not just something to throw away. I'm strong...stronger than I know...
I feel the man's grip on my hair loosen slightly, and without thinking, I pick up my foot and stomp as hard as I can down on his. I hear him grunt and fling myself out from behind the tree.
"CARTER!" I scream as I feel the man yank me back by my hair and cry out as I feel a chunk of it ripping out in the process. He slams the front of my body up against the tree and presses himself behind it.
We both stay frozen like that for what feels like a long time. I don't hear anything in the woods except for the occasional sound of a car passing in the distance. I watch an out-of-focus ant crawl across the tree bark just a centimeter from my eye.
A twig snaps behind us and the man spins me around. He's not a big man, but he's shockingly strong. Tears spring to my eyes again as I see Carter standing not ten feet away from us, gun raised.
"So close, yet so far," the man sneers. I can feel his breath on my ear and want to shed my skin.
"Hi, Alexa," Carter says quietly, though his eyes remain trained on the man's trigger finger. I want to laugh, and cry, and hug him, and tell him to run away. As much as I want to escape, now he's in danger, too.
"Drop the gun," the man orders him.
"If El Nuevo Muerto just wanted you to kill her, you would have taken her out with a sniper shot weeks ago," Carter replies, his arms steady.
The man pauses for only a second. "Lieutenant Carter Driscoll, Naval Special Warfare Group Two, SEAL Team 10, recipient of the Purple Heart. I've been very impressed with you, so I decided to do some research. How's that leg?"
"Good as new," Carter replies. "I got some information on you, too. Edward Smith, failed the Army's mental health test in 1983. Couldn't even get in. Said you were mentally unfit."
Smith's gun digs deeper into my ribcage and I press my lips together to keep from crying out. "Do you have nightmares? I bet you do. Which one were you closest to? Stewart Kelly? Adam Littleton?" The corner of Carter's mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. "Ah, Adam Littleton," the man sighs with satisfaction. "You were quite nearby when he blew up...you probably got little bits of him on your uniform." Carter's eyes get that distant stare that I first saw on the plane.
"Carter, it's—" I begin, but Smith yanks my hair back sharply.
"I read that before you passed out, you tried to stuff his intestines back inside his body," the man begins to laugh as Carter's gun shakes. "Was he still alive for that? Imagine the pain of dying as you manhandle his insides! And then you get an award! For what? For being three feet to his right, shielded by his body? You live in a mansion, while he rots in the ground!"
Carter's right leg breaks and he sinks down, his gun toppling out of his hands. I hear him take deep, gasping breaths. My physical pain disappears, replaced by the pain of seeing him broken.
"Pathetic," Smith sneers. "And I'm the one who's mentally unfit?" He pushes me forward. "You, kick the gun away," he orders me. I take five steps forward and kick Carter's gun. "Again." I follow it and kick it further toward the trees. The man gestures with his gun toward the road. "Now back to the car, both of—"
Like a flash, Carter leaps from the ground and tackles Smith. His gun goes off, but I can't tell if anyone's been hit. The gun...I race toward the direction where I kicked Carter's, frantically scanning the ground as I hear grunts and cracks behind me. I nearly trip over it, and pick it up with shaking hands. I've never held a gun before.
As I slide my finger over the trigger and turn around, I see Carter sitting on top of Smith and p
unching him in the face over and over. One look at Smith tells me the man is well past the point of unconsciousness.
"Carter!" I yell, but he can't hear me. His face is a blank as he raises his right fist again and again. I wince at the sound of bone cracking in Smith's face. Without thinking, I raise the gun above my head and fire it into the air. I yelp as the recoil shivers down my arm. I forgot I've been shot on the right shoulder, and now it feels like it's on fire.
Carter turns to me and blinks, almost as though he'd forgotten I was there for a moment. "Alexa...are you alright? You're bleeding..." he jumps up and runs toward me.
"Take this," I whisper, pushing the gun toward him. "I don't want to touch it anymore." He takes it and tucks it into his pants, then quickly picks up the other one from the ground. "Sit," he tells me, and my legs practically collapse under me. "What happened to your arm?"
"Shot me," I murmur. Sirens sound quietly in the distance, but I feel like I'm retreating into a daydream.
"Hey, keep talking to me! You're going into shock," he says, taking my head in his hands. "You're safe now, OK? I've got you."
"My arm..."
He gently examines it. "It's a flesh wound. The bullet just tagged you. I know it still hurts like hell, though."
"How'd you find me?" I ask in confusion.
"Roger had a pang of conscience, and came to me. After a while, I was able to convince him to use a contact he has in the police force to trace your credit card, which is probably how Smith found you, too. When I finally got to the airport, you were gone, but when I was driving back I saw a car on the side of the road, and your purse on the seat."
"Your hands..." I gasp, gingerly touching his bloodied knuckles.
"They'll be fine," he assures me. The sirens get louder and then stop. They must have pulled over on the road. Carter stands up and then bends over and picks me up.
"I'm alright," I insist, though I'm far from it. He snorts, and I lay my head on his chest. I can just hear his heartbeat, and I can feel mine slow down to match it. "Was it an act? When you dropped your gun?"
"Not at first. But then I figured I should play into it," he admits quietly.
"I'm sorry he said those things about your friend," I whisper.
"Over here!" a voice calls, and I hear brush being trampled as the responders spot us. I glance over and spot an ambulance and three police cars. Officers are busy surrounding Smith's car on the opposite side of the road, and the EMTs are pulling a stretcher out.
"I'm the one who called the police. There's a man about fifty feet straight back," Carter tells the first officer as we reach them. "Edward Smith. Unarmed, unconscious. He abducted her."
"And who's 'her'?" the officer asks, eyeing me with alarm. I must look like a bloodied mess.
"Alexa Stratton, daughter of Ray Stratton," Carter explains, setting me gently on the stretcher.
"Christ," the officer swears, rubbing his forehead, but he signals the other officers into the woods.
"I'm going to reach behind me and take out his gun," Carter says as I lay back on the stretcher. The paramedics swarm around me. "The other one is mine, and yes, I have a permit." I reach through the people and manage to grab Carter's hand.
"I'm going to need to ask you some questions," the officer says. "Lots of them."
"I understand completely," Carter replies. "You can find me at the hospital." The paramedics push the stretcher toward the ambulance, forcing me to drop Carter's hand. I'm jostled as the stretcher legs bend as they push it into the ambulance itself.
"Carter?" I cry out, an unreasonable amount of panic spreading through me. My head is strapped down and all I can see is the white ceiling of the ambulance. Suddenly, his hand is around mine and his face appears above me.
"I'm here."
"Don't leave."
"I don't intend to."
Chapter Thirty-Four
"Can I come in?" I turn my head to see Bree paused uncertainly at the threshold of my hospital room.
"Of course," I reply. She smiles and walks toward my hospital bed, then turns to Carter.
"Police want to see you outside. I can stay with Lex." Carter turns to me, and I nod. He hasn't left my side since we got here a couple hours ago. Bree waits until he passes outside, and then seats herself in his chair next to me. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she whispers quietly.
"Well, you got your fair share."
"That was different. You were aware the whole time of what could happen...sorry. Maybe it's not helpful to talk about right now. I'm just glad they got the guy."
"One of them. What if El Nuevo Muerto sends another—"
Bree grabs my hand. "Don't worry. I was with my mom when Carter called. It's not going to be the same anymore, trust me."
"Really?"
She nods. "It's over between them. She's with him now."
"But the cartel could still—"
"I know you didn't see this side of my mom, because she changes a lot when she's with a man, but she's actually a really shrewd businesswoman. She knows Ray can't have the information about this deal get out, so she's going to use her knowledge of it to get him to resolve it."
I actually begin to smile. "I think that's called blackmail."
Bree grins. "Let's call it leverage. So much classier."
"If they do break up, that could...make things easier," I murmur. Bree blushes. I'm sure Jack told her that I know about them, but she's never talked about it around me, and I didn't want to bring it up. I think she's embarrassed.
"Well, maybe after some time has passed, it wouldn't cause such a scandal," she admits, her cheeks bright pink.
"He's crazy about you, you know."
"I know," she says with a grin. "Hey, have I told you my novel's almost finished?"
"No, that's great!"
She nods. "Lots of nights sitting out on my balcony, writing. I have a great view of the ocean, the backyard...the boat house. It's amazing what you can see...so many late night comings and goings..." she says with a mischievous smile.
"You knew this whole time?" I gasp.
"Well, I knew a little. Just about a couple late night meetings. None lately, as far as I can tell," she adds probingly.
I sigh. "It got a little complicated. He got distant, and I started seeing someone else...hopefully now...maybe..." I trail off. "Everything's going to be so different now, isn't it?" I realize.
"Yes. But maybe it will be better. We're friends, even if we won't be sisters, right?"
"I hope that's a promise," I reply, grasping her hand a little tighter.
"Oh, and Jack's on his way," she adds. "He was in practice, but I called the front office and asked them to let him know."
"I'm fine, he doesn't have to—"
"Don't be silly," Bree interrupts. "How do you think Carter will react, when he finds out about...us?"
I giggle. "Honestly? He's going to—"
"What's so funny?" Carter asks, reentering and looking between us suspiciously. "Why do I always feel like you two are talking about me?"
"Because we are," Bree replies.
"Alexa, my mom's outside," Carter says, turning to me. "She wasn't sure you'd want to see her."
"Of course, tell her to come in."
Carter sticks his head back outside, and a moment later, Anne walks tentatively with him into the room. Her lips begin to wobble as she sees me, and her eyes threaten to spill over with tears.
"Do I really look that bad?" I joke.
"No! I mean, well...a little," she gushes, then rushes over to my bedside. "Oh, Alexa, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you."
"It's OK. He has lots of people fooled," I reply.
"I went and saw him in his office. He's ending Burke's shipments to Mexico entirely, and paying both cartels enough money to satisfy them."
"Wow, you got him to do that?"
"I threatened to go to the press." I look at her strained, beautiful face, and find I feel no anger towards her.
"For the
record, I think he did love you. I don't think he would have conceded to anyone else's demands," I tell her.
A tear slips down her cheek and she hurriedly wipes it away. "Well, it doesn't matter now," she murmurs, then glances down my body. "They have you all stitched up?"
"It's mostly just scrapes and bruises. Only the shoulder needed stitches," I tell her. "Luckily, the bullet only knicked my skin—"
"Bullet!?" Anne's eyes widen. "He shot you?"
"That fucker shot you?" Jack exclaims, barreling into the room. He's covered in sweat, has a smear of dirt across his forehead, and smells like a locker room.
"Only a little," I reply. Jack begins to pace back and forth across the room.
"Look, my mind was racing all the way over here," he says. "And here's what I'm thinking. Clearly, we can't stay at the house anymore. And you guys need to get out of there, too. I've got this small apartment that I only use...infrequently...so Alexa, you can stay there. Carter, maybe it would be best if you stay in the second bedroom to keep an eye on her. And Anne, you can move in to my apartment with us."
"Who's 'us'?" Carter pipes up.
"Jack, sweetie, slow down," Anne says. "I'm confused. Who do you live with?"
"No one, now," Jack stammers, as I bite my lip to keep from laughing. "I mean, my housekeeper. That's who I was talking about."
I can't help it. A giggle escapes from between my lips, and then it's too late to stop it. Before I know it tears are streaming down my face as I laugh and I have to pull my hospital gown up to hide my face.
"Alexa, are you alright?" I feel Anne's hand on my leg. "She's hysterical. Maybe we should get the nurse."
"No, no, I'm fine," I gasp. "Sorry, it just struck me funny, is all. How things that seem like a really big deal suddenly aren't anymore, after something like this happens," I say, indicating my cuts and bruises. "Getting kidnapped really puts things into perspective."
"Maybe she's right," Bree pipes up, though I can hear nerves under her voice.
"Bree..." Jack says from across the room.
"I mean, after what's happened to Alexa, and what Ray's been doing, maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal," Bree continues.