by Angi Morgan
His fists relaxed, he steadied his breathing, found his calm and waited for Simmons to advance.
“You think you can beat me?” Simmons danced from side to side in his work boots.
Brian watched for the first kick and deflected it with one of his own. He turned and kicked backward, connecting with the center of Simmons’s chest. He absorbed some of the momentum when he took a few steps back.
Brian followed with two punches to the abdomen and then received a right cross that he had not seen coming. They both used trained punches and blocks, sending each of them into walls and the truck. Each time Brian thought he was getting Simmons close enough to Lindsey to jump stop his heart, the older man would kick or roll or throw a punch that could loosen teeth.
* * *
LINDSEY STOOD READY to blast Victor Simmons with a shock, hoping that she understood how to use the darn things. Braced against the wall, she’d loosened Brian’s T-shirt so she could hold the paddles in her hands. She had to wait for the men to get close to her, unable to drag the machine away from the counter.
Brian was an excellent fighter. He could take a punch, but the way his body rippled was something to admire. If it weren’t a life-and-death situation, she’d let him know how impressed she was. And she’d allow herself to be more excited about seeing his shirt off.
Each time the monster in black kicked or shoved or swung, Brian countered with a beautiful kick or punch of his own. She was so caught up in the actual fight, wanting Brian to knock this horrible person out for the count, that she almost forgot what she was holding.
Simmons crawled on his belly, trying to get to something. The gun. Should she drop the paddles and run to the other side of the garage for it? She couldn’t run. Just balancing on her foot was too painful for words. Gripping the paddle with the hand of her torn shoulder was excruciating. She had to stay where she was and hope for the best.
The fight was slowing a bit, both men drawing longer breaths, both a little slower to get up. Brian threw a punch, pounding Simmons’s inside thigh, and he gave a scream. Brian hit him time and time again. The psycho couldn’t get his arms up to deflect or defend. Brian kept at him, backing him toward her. One last hard kick and Simmons went flying into the office door next to her.
“Are you okay?”
Brian winked at her. It was over.
Simmons lay on his back, crumpled and passed out.
“Get the gun. It’s at the front of the engine by the door,” she told him.
Brian turned to pick up the weapon. She turned to set hers down just as a bloodied hand grabbed her from behind. Simmons wrapped one paw around her chest. And held the knife to her throat, ready to slice her from ear to ear with one stroke. He used her body as a shield from the gun that Brian pointed in their direction.
“Put the gun down or you can say goodbye to her forever.”
“Won’t that mess up your accident plans, Victor?”
“I have contingencies.” Simmons tugged on her neck a little. “I can still make this look as if you decided to kill her. That you abducted her and me and held us captive. Drop the gun.”
Her eyes locked with Brian’s. He looked as though he was apologizing. He couldn’t do it. This devil couldn’t win.
“He’s not going to win.” She didn’t want Brian to surrender. He was the only hero in her life and she trusted him. She knew what she had to do.
“No!” Brian shouted.
Trusted that whatever happened, he’d save her.
Brian ran, the gun falling to his side.
“I trust you,” she said, raising the paddles to Simmons’ arms. She pushed the buttons that sent the electric shock jolting through both of their bodies.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lindsey jerked and the paddles fell from her hands. Brian wished everything happened in slow motion, but it didn’t.
He erupted forward as soon as he saw the look in her eyes. She’d placed both paddles directly on Simmons, but didn’t she know the electric charge would travel through her, too? She had. I trust you. Dear God, to bring Simmons down, she’d shocked them both.
Lindsey trusted that Brian would bring her back from having her heart stopped. She crumpled to the floor, the murderer falling on top of her. Brian ran to the paramedic case and half dragged, half kicked it near the defibrillator.
Not so gently, he rolled Simmons off the bravest woman he’d ever known. The only woman he’d ever loved or wanted to love. The murderer had no pulse. Lindsey was facedown; there was a flutter, a chance. He’d told her he could keep her alive with a rig full of equipment. It was time to keep his promise.
The backboard was in place. He’d left it there, ready for Simmons. He skidded it next to Lindsey and gently turned her over to rest on it.
Training took over. He went through the steps that eight long years of practice had turned to muscle memory. Pulse. Breathing. Airway. Air bag. Monitor. AFib. Charge. Paddles. Jolt. Stop. Pray.
Pray harder, it’s Lindsey.
Listen.
Give it a second. No more.
He was about to shock her heart another time when he detected a regular rhythm. Where was the phone? He searched the room perimeter. Nothing. He broke the window on the office door, grabbed the phone on the wall and dialed 911.
“Send emergency vehicles to Aubrey Fire Station. Police and ambulance.”
“Please stay on the line, sir.”
“Brian?” Lindsey called, her head twisting from side to side.
Brian dropped the phone, leaving the line open. He knelt between Lindsey and Simmons, attempting to block her view of the dead man. Taking her hand between his, he brought it to his lips, more grateful than he’d been since his dad’s stroke that she was alive.
“I’m so...tired. Is he...?”
“Dead? Yes. You shouldn’t talk. Just rest.”
“Will they think we... That...I killed him?”
“He was a serial killer. We did what we had to do.”
“You saved me.” Her hand curved around his chin.
He caught it and kept it there, wanting to kiss her and tell her everything would be all right and she was perfect. But he didn’t know if it would. Simmons was dead from the shock. Lindsey was still in danger.
“Shh, sweetie. I called for help. If I had the keys to this engine, I’d take you to the hospital myself.”
“Selling Jeremy’s house. Never step foot again. I want my beach. Don’t you love beach?”
“I don’t think there are too many horse ranches on the beach, hon.”
“Nope. Not many boots...in sand. So sleepy.”
“Lindsey, wake up, sweetheart. Stay with me.” Brian patted her check and her blue, blue eyes opened, acknowledging him with a soft smile. “I hear the police, darlin’. Stay awake now, okay? Concentrate and promise me.”
“I prom— Kiss me bye.”
“Not bye.”
He bent down and dropped his lips against her cool cheek. She turned her head, sealing their lips together. He wanted to devour her; the need hadn’t gone away. If anything, it got stronger the more they went through. He straightened onto his knees again, hearing the squeal of tires on the pavement outside.
“Get away from her,” Ronnie Dean shouted, pulling his handgun. “Cindy, I have two down,” he spoke into his radio. “Confirm ambulance needed. Where the hell’s the volunteer EMT?”
“Holy smokes, it’s the fugitive, Brian Sloane,” a second officer said, charging through the door. “What’s he doing, trying to kill her?”
“Step back, Sloane.”
The dialogue continued between the two officers who had pulled the Sunday night speed trap duty. He ignored them. The most inexperienced. The youngest.
Lindsey’s eyes closed. Her head fell slack.
“Lindsey? Come on, hon.” He shook her chest. “Wake up.” He grabbed her wrist, her pulse was erratic. “No. No. No! I am not going to lose you.”
The monitor showed her heart was AFib again.
“I told you to get away from her,” the guy he didn’t know shouted.
“Ronnie, you guys can shoot me and let her die. Or you can let me do my job and try to save her life.”
Ronnie nodded and stuck his hand out to stop the other officer.
“She’s in AFib. I need to get a regular beat back. Clear.” Brian shocked Lindsey’s heart a third time.
“But you’re not a doctor. Should we let him do that?”
“Do you know how to work that machine?” Ronnie asked the younger man. “Go outside and call Cindy. Check on the ETA of the ambulance.”
Lindsey had a regular heartbeat. Brian dropped his head to his knee, more than a little emotional and not wanting to lose it in front of these guys.
Once the younger cop was gone, he knelt to feel for a pulse on Simmons. “He’s dead.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How long until your rescue unit shows up?”
Ronnie shrugged, “Who is she?”
“Lindsey Cook.”
“She’s wanted for questioning. You kidnapped her?”
“No. He did.” Brian nodded to Simmons’s body.
“How do I know you didn’t kill him, too?”
His beautiful, brave woman did.
“You don’t. But you’ll be the next one lying here if you try to move me before help arrives for this woman.”
The younger cop came back inside. “About five minutes on the ambulance. What should we do?”
Brian listened to Lindsey’s heart, now beating in a normal rhythm. Her chest rose with normal breaths.
“We’re going to watch. If anything looks wrong, we’ll take him down,” Ronnie ordered.
They stared at him and he stared at Lindsey, willing her to beat the odds and survive. She had to live. They were a good team. She thought so, right? He stroked her hand and saw where the plastic cuffs had bit into her wrists. He dressed the gouges, biting back the emotion. Using the back side of his hand to indiscreetly wipe his eyes.
Then he secured her shoulder and strapped her to the board for transport. He didn’t want there to be any delay. It was a long way to Denton Regional.
The ambulance arrived, he gave them Lindsey’s vitals and history, they loaded her and they were gone.
Brian didn’t care what happened next. He was handcuffed and stuck inside a squad car while Ronnie argued with the Denton P.D. that had been patched through and wanted him transported ASAP.
Lindsey’s care was out of his hands. If she forgave him for getting her captured by that monster, as she called him, he’d go anywhere and do anything she wanted.
Terror that she might die hit him. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He dropped his head as low in the car as possible and let go. He kept the noise to some sniffs and a couple of deep breaths. If anyone had been watching him closely, they would have seen the tears of fright mixed in with the prayers.
Lindsey Cook wanted to go to the beach.
Brian Sloane would make sure it happened.
Just let her live.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brian was asleep—or should have been—on the couch in his home. Or what would be his home for about six more weeks. Until the bank took possession of his family’s ranch.
He’d showered and was glad to be clean, ready to smell like horses again. Even if it was only for a couple more days. He scratched his morning stubble and scrubbed his face, ending up on the new scar on his forehead. He hadn’t received it fighting one of the worst serial killers in Texas history, but it would always remind him of finding one.
Brought home by a patrol car, he’d been released from jail in the middle of the night with the apologies of the P.D. No media frenzy. No reporter to tell the world he was innocent. No longer newsworthy. No longer employed as a Fort Worth paramedic. And no longer with a reason to follow Lindsey around night and day.
Except one.
He smelled toast, bacon and coffee. Time to get the day started. Time to face the family and tell them his decision. He heard the discussion and stayed quietly on the couch so he could listen. While in jail, no one had bothered to tell him why Simmons had killed the Cooks.
“The news said he wrote everything down,” his sister-in-law explained. “In the beginning, he wanted the Cook family mineral rights. He faked their sale, was discovered and began killing. When he got away with it, he killed again. It became an obsession. The authorities said he enjoyed it and considered it a challenge to outsmart the police, so he began killing prostitutes. They aren’t releasing how many died until they notify all the families.”
“That was one sick SOB,” his dad said. “If he confessed and they had a blasted book about it, we should sue someone for keeping Brian in jail almost a week.”
“There wasn’t a paper manuscript, JW. Simmons dictated tapes and hid them in a safe. So it took the police longer to sort through it all,” Alicia explained patiently. “We’re not going to sue anybody. We’re darn lucky they didn’t press charges against John for helping his brother escape from the hospital.”
“Come on, Dad,” John said. “We’re burning daylight. Gotta get this place in shape for the appraiser if that financing is going to come through in time.”
Financing?
“John, Dad, wait a sec,” he called from the couch, looking long and hard at his boots. He’d miss them. His family and the boots, but he’d made a decision.
Alicia was drying her hands on a dish towel, John had just put his Navy SEAL ball cap on his head and his dad leaned lightly on the cane that was more for Mabel’s peace of mind now than for real stability.
“What’s up?” his brother asked, standing at his normal parade rest.
Brian leaned forward on his knees, tired when he shouldn’t be after “resting” in jail for four days. “I need to say something, so don’t interrupt. Got it?”
They all nodded their heads.
“First off, I’m sorry that I dragged you kicking and screaming into finding Lindsey and ultimately Simmons.”
“Right, like we’re going to be mad that you single-handedly stopped one of the worst if not the worst serial killer in history,” Alicia said, putting the towel around her neck and leaning into John’s side. “Right?”
“He said not to interrupt.” John wasn’t smiling, but he did drop his arm around his wife.
“We should apologize.” His dad sat on the arm of his reading chair. “We could have been more supportive.”
“That’s not what this is about.” He looked at his dad. “We’ve avoided talking about the ranch long enough. You’re moving in with Mabel. Don’t deny it, Dad. You practically have already. John and Alicia will have her properties to run. And I’m leaving. Well, there’s no reason to refinance the ranch. I won’t be here. I’m giving it up, heading to Florida with Lindsey. If she’ll have me.”
All three of them spoke at once. Irate, indignant, mad and just plain hurt. Then he realized there weren’t just three people yelling at him, there were four.
Lindsey’s sweet voice rose above the rest and asked from the kitchen, “What’s he saying? I promise he told me he wanted the ranch.”
“He told me the same thing the night in the hospital,” John threw out.
“What are you doing here, Lindsey?” He stood, pulled her to him from behind his brother and kissed her as though he hadn’t touched her in a year. “You still feeling okay?”
“I’m great. Are you? Okay, I mean?” His family had gotten strangely quiet. “I think we’re all a little stunned by your announcement. I thought you wanted to be a
rancher?”
“It’s not that I don’t. I—” He looked at his father and brother. “Any way we could get some privacy?”
“We all live here, bro.”
He grabbed his boots and Lindsey’s hand and pulled her through his family, straight out the back door with no explanation. His brother’s laughter didn’t slow him down.
“Hey, cowboy. Take it easy, my ankle’s still swollen.”
Taking the gravel in his stocking feet wouldn’t have put a hiccup in his pace, but Lindsey reminding him she’d been severely injured recently changed his mind. He swung the best thing in his life into his arms and proceeded straight to the barn, where he set her on some feed bags. Once inside, he shut and bolted the door.
“Wow, it’s dark in here.”
He sat and pulled his boots on, letting his eyes adjust, watching her shy away from the horse stall. She watched for critters that might be near her feet. What was he thinking? She hated this place. She wanted to live at the beach, not in an old house falling down around his ears. But he had to explain, had to tell her.
“Don’t get comfortable. Follow me.” He led the way to the hayloft and opened the east doors, sitting down and dropping his legs over the side. The sun was just peeking over the treetops of the oaks that lined the drive to their house.
“It sure is pretty here.”
“I love watching the sunrise from up here. Some mornings, especially the first week Dad was home after his stroke, it was pretty much the only pleasure I got during the day. I love the smell of hay, working with my hands, the feeling of success when one of the mares foals.”
“I’m not sure I know one end of a horse from another. And I’m hopeless where cats are concerned. They don’t like me and hiss all the time.”
“It means something to me that this place has been in my family for over a hundred years. I was looking forward to setting things right, getting it back on its feet.”
“What’s stopping you? Money? Because I think we have someone willing to refinance the place.” She paced behind him while he tried to understand.
Did that mean she planned on staying here? He craned his neck to watch her as she told him her plans.
