by Terry Towers
She could hear his movement in the bathroom and felt slightly relieved that she could at least hear him, if not see him. The little cubbyhole he'd thrown her into was small, just large enough to fit one person and as she touched her fingertips to the walls, she realized it had been plated in steel.
She leaned back against the wall behind her, pulled the pistol from her pants and held it tight to her chest. She allowed the tears to freely slide down her cheeks for the first time since the whole ordeal began. Several minutes, which felt like hours went by with not a sound coming from the cabin, finally she heard movement.
The footsteps were light, but she could hear them, just faintly in what she thought to be the kitchen. She wondered where Scott was, she hadn't heard him leave the bathroom, but he was so light on his feet it would have been hard for her to tell.
Silence again. It was so quiet that she could hear her own accelerated heartbeat in her ears.
She was just starting to lull herself into a false sense of security when a soft 'whoosh' sounded from the bathroom. She heard a couple of normal, loud shots and then a thud came from the kitchen. She gasped, and then put her hand to her mouth. Feeling for the safely on the gun, she found it and clicked it off. He'd told her to stay in the closet until he gave word, but she couldn't. What if he'd been hurt and was lying on the floor bleeding?
He told her to follow her instincts and her instinct was telling her to find out.
Holding the gun tightly in front of her, its muzzle pointed to the ground like he'd instructed her, she crept from the closet. Crouching low, to make herself less of a target, she slowly opened the closet and peeped out. The bathroom was vacant so she silently eased herself out from her hiding spot and crept to the doorway of the bathroom with her back planted tight against the wall.
Peeping out of the bathroom, her eyes immediately jumped to Scott, crouched over the body of a blonde man of average build. Something caught his attention then; a figure suddenly appeared in the doorway with a gun raised to Scott's head. Luckily, Scott was quick drawing his weapon and exchanging shots with the man.
A slight movement caught the corner of her eye as she watched them exchange shots, a figure in the window. Instinct took over, rushing from the bathroom she raised her gun to the head of the figure in the window and pulled the trigger, sending three rounds into the surprised man, who hadn't seen or expected her.
Chapter 7
Pain shot through Scott as his body took the assassin's bullet in the shoulder and he was thrown to the floor from the force of the impact. But the pain was the least of his worries. The two assassins in the living room were both dead. He'd gotten lucky and been able to pull off a kill shot to the second assassin. However, he had suffered from a shot to the shoulder in their exchange of bullets.
But Lily had defied him and was now standing in the middle of the kitchen, a prime target if there were any more men out there, though he doubted there were. He’d assumed there would be two, so the third had been a complete shock to him.
He glared at her as he struggled to his feet. "You could have been killed," he snarled. He wasn't in the mood to sugar coat the situation for her, or spare her feelings. She’d done a stupid and reckless thing and he intended to let he know just how stupid.
Her eyes widened as they landed on him, and then on his shoulder where the bullet was lodged. He looked down and saw that his t-shirt was beginning to color with his blood. He ignored the problem of his shoulder for the moment. "Stay here and stay down," he ordered.
"But…" her eyes stayed locked on his shoulder. "You're hurt, let me…" she took a step towards him but he raised his hand to her, palm up.
"Stay back and hide. Now!"
She visibly flinched at the hard, icy tone his voice had taken, but he didn't care.
Nodding, she complied, scurrying back into the bathroom like a scolded puppy.
Dammit to hell!
Knowing he needed to check on the status of the third man, he walked out of the front door and around the side of the building to where the man's body should be if she’d managed to kill him. As he turned the corner, Scott came face to face with the dying man, spread eagled on the forest floor, lying in a rapidly increasingly large pool of his own blood. Scott guessed it would take about ten minutes for the man to bleed out onto the forest floor and it would be ten of the worst minutes of his life.
Marching over to the man, he kicked the gun from the assassin's limp grip and placed a booted foot on his chest. He cringed when he saw the dying man's face. He knew him well, had worked with him on a couple of jobs in the past as a matter of fact.
Upon seeing Scott, the man's eyes took on a look of relief. "Kill me," he rasped, his words so faint Scott could barely make them out. "Kill me, please."
"How many of you are there?"
The man gurgled, presumably choking on his own blood, but managed to gasp out: “Three”. Scott nodded and aimed the gun to the man's forehead. "Good-bye, friend." With that he squeezed the trigger ending the man's suffering.
With the immediate threat averted the intense burning pain of his shoulder took precedence in his mind. He made his way back into the cabin, barely giving the two dead men, bleeding out onto the floor a second glance as he made his way to the bathroom. By the time he reached the doorway of the bathroom he found himself becoming a little unsteady on his feet and at that moment realized that his blood loss was more substantial than he'd anticipated.
He needed Lily.
Leaning his good shoulder against the door jamb, his gaze immediately landed on her petite body sitting on the floor, her legs tucked against her chin, her golden hair draped around her and her shoulders heaving in what he assumed to be silent sobs.
Hearing him enter the room, she looked up and pushed her hair from her eyes. Her blue eyes, now red and swollen from her tears looked up and caught his. "Scott. Oh my God! I thought you said it wasn't bad." She immediately sprang to her feet and rushed over to him.
"I didn't think it was," he admitted stumbling to the toilet and sitting on the cover. "Get the first aid kit from the bedroom, it's under the bed.”
Nodding, she rushed from the bathroom. As he waited for her to return he managed – with some effort and lots of pain - to pull his shirt from his body so he could examine the wound. Moments later, she came rushing back falling to her knees on the floor and flipping open the lid.
"Alright before you do anything I need you to go get a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen."
She frowned, but instead of asking questions she did as he asked.
"Open it," he instructed as she came back with the bottle in hand. Again she nodded and removed the top, passing it to him. He took a long swig, the alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but because of the pain in his shoulder, he barely noticed the whiskey. "Alright, I need you to go into the first aid kit and grab the tweezers."
She nodded; fell back down to her knees and searched the contents of the large white metal case until she came up with tweezers sealed in an airtight bag.
He nodded to his shoulder, "I'm going to need you to take those and remove the bullet with them."
Her mouth dropped and her face lost several shades of its color as she considered his request. He hated asking her, but he had no choice, there was no way it would have been possible for him to do it himself. "You're my only hope, Lily. Please."
"I can't... I... What if I hurt you?" Tears began to run anew down her cheeks.
Gritting his teeth against the pain he leaned over and cupped her cheek in his hand and then kissed her lightly. "I'll die if you don't, Lily." he admitted, sitting back up. He hated having to admit that, admit that he needed help. But there it was. He needed her more than he'd ever needed anyone in his life.
She took a few moments to gather her composure and then nodded her head. "Okay. What exactly do I need to do?"
He took another swig of his whiskey, explained what he needed from her and then sat back and waited for the additional pain
to begin.
****
Lying naked under the blankets on her side, curled up in a ball, Lily waited for Scott to join her. He was 'taking care of' the bodies. How, she didn't want to know, she would have offered to help, but by the time she was finishing sewing up his shoulder, she felt emotionally drained. So, she stripped her bloody clothing off and slipped into bed. The very thought of the dead men in the kitchen and the man she'd killed outside made her literally sick to her stomach, so Scott had insisted she lie down while he did what had to be done.
After an hour or so of waiting she finally heard Scott re-enter the cabin and a wave of relief washed over her. All she wanted at that moment was to curl up into his arms and have him tell her everything was going to be alright, even if it was a lie.
She listened to the sounds of his movements throughout the various rooms for close to an hour before he finally came into the bedroom. He hesitated at the bed and she could feel his eyes on her back, before he slipped in beside her.
"I'm sorry I was so long, I had to take a bath to…"
"I know." She didn't want to hear the remainder of what he was going to say. He had to take a bath to wash the other men’s blood from his body. One of those men being the man she'd killed. As she lay there, waiting for him to return, the thought that she'd killed a man plagued her.
He wrapped his arms around her and she took comfort in the feel of his strong arms, hard body and musky scent of his body wash. "I killed a man, Scott."
He kissed her shoulder. "No, you didn't, I killed him."
She attempted to turn in his arms to face him, but he held her in place with her back to him. "But, I'm sure I did."
"No, you didn't. You barely scratched him." He chuckled softly. "You must have closed your eyes again. I took care of him when I went outside to see if you'd hit him. So don't worry, you had nothing to do with his death."
She wanted to believe him, but deep down she knew he was lying to her. She was responsible for the death of someone. Instead of arguing with him about it, she pretended to accept his explanation, hoping that, as time passed, maybe she'd be able to convince herself that it was true; that she'd just grazed him and that it was Scott who had actually caused his demise.
"I figure we have about a day before more men are sent after us. So I've made arrangements for you to be taken to a safe place."
Alarmed, Lily turned in his arms to face him. The day was surrendering to the night, so there was barely enough light filtering through the dark curtains on the single window of the room to see the outline of his features. "Just like that? You're leaving me with strangers?"
"They'll keep coming until I put a stop to the root of the problem, Lily."
"And then what?" She couldn't help the panic rushing through her. She knew that whatever was going on between them was a limited time deal, but now that the time had run out she was scared to go back to being alone, to being without him. Not only scared of being attacked, but she'd already grown to care for him and she knew he was feeling the same things for her.
"And then you live the life you were supposed to and hopefully the nightmare I've put you through these past few days will fade." He ran his fingers through her hair as he looked down at her. "If things were different, if I were a different man, a better man, then I'd do whatever it took to be with you."
Damn him, she could feel the tears threatening to spill out onto her cheeks. Damn him for making her feel that way. Damn him for making her care.
"What I wouldn't give to be able to take you on just an average, typical kind of date. Show up at your place with a bouquet of red roses, and take you to an overpriced restaurant where the waiters are snooty and the food pretentious."
She chewed at her bottom lip, if only things were different...
"I'm so sorry to have dragged you into this, Lily. You have no idea how sorry." He touched her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "So sorry," he whispered, kissing her forehead.
Not saying another word, she buried her face in his neck and held tight to him, pressing the length of her body in close against his and savouring the feel of him next to her. Part of her hoped he was right that she'd forget about everything that had happened as time went on, but the other part knew she would never be able to forget.
Chapter 8
Three Months Later
As Lily stepped out onto her front porch and picked up the morning newspaper she could feel their eyes on her. She didn't know who they were - the people that watched her - but she did know that they were associates of Scott's. She hadn't heard a word from Scott since the morning he'd put her into a car with a couple of strangers and sent her on her way.
The people Scott had entrusted her with had given her a key to a safety deposit box at the American National Bank, and told her the contents of the box were hers to do with as she pleased. When she arrived at the bank to receive the contents of the box, she was shocked to find half a million dollars in it.
With the money she bought herself a house, a small house in the suburbs and a brand new Ford Shelby Mustang. The mustang was her pride and joy. Instead of going back to work, she decided to go to college; she figured with the house bought and paid for, if she lived frugally, she could pay the tuition in full for the entirety of the program and live without having to work while she attended school.
Life should have been good now. But it wasn't.
Every night since leaving the cabin she’d had nightmares of killing the man she'd shot through the window. The vivid nightmares reminded her that it hadn't been Scott that killed that man - it had been her - regardless of what he'd told her. She knew it was self-defence, but that still didn't stop the guilt from welling up within her.
Opening up the newspaper she flipped to the world events portion to read the headlines. One caught her eye.
'Known Columbian drug lord assassinated in home'
She read the article while standing on the porch, and under the watchful eye of her 'protectors'. When she finished reading the article, her instincts told her that it was the man Scott had gone after, and by the looks of it, succeeded in killing. Scanning the tree line to the left and right of her she attempted to see some sign that someone was there watching her to give some back-up to the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach that she was not alone.
"Was this him?" She called out, knowing she must sound crazy to the neighbors but not caring. "He did it! It's over. Tell him I want to see him."
Nothing but the sounds of chirping birds responded.
Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair and continued to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was lurking out there.
"Please, just come out. Talk to me. Please."
She waited, but still nothing.
Anger overtook her and she tossed the newspaper to the porch. "Fuck you all and fuck him! And you can tell him that!" she screamed out, with tears in her eyes and threatening to escape. She stormed back into the house and slammed the door behind her.
****
Eight Months Later
"I had a great time Andrew, thank you."
This was her third date with Andrew, the accountant. Andrew was the first man she'd accepted a date from since her time with Scott. He was a pretty decent catch; handsome, loyal, dependable, and as boring as hell. But she needed to get out and start dating since it was apparent to her now that Scott was never going to show up in her life again.
He'd told her she'd never see him again, and he had lived by his word. She no longer felt like she was being watched either; she hadn't had that feeling for a few weeks now. In an odd way, she missed the feeling. When her 'protectors' left, they took with them the hope that she might see him again.
Slipping his arms around her waist Andrew pulled her into a tight embrace and lowered his lips to hers. She went with it, wrapping her arms around his neck and attempting to lose herself in his kiss, but it was useless. She simply didn't feel the spark with him, no matter how hard she tried.
Pulli
ng away from him, she gave him a soft smile. "Good night, Andrew."
He hesitated. Considering it was their third date, she imagined he expected her to invite him inside, perhaps for a nightcap, but that wasn't going to happen. At least not tonight.
"Good night, Lily, I'll call you." Giving her a curt nod, he turned and walked back to his car. After a quick wave, he slipped in, started it up and drove away.
Lily watched until she could no longer see his tail-lights, before turning to unlock the front door. As she slipped the key into the lock, she froze. The door was already unlocked. Her heart accelerated. Giving herself a moment to calm down, she opened her handbag, unzipped the side compartment and pulled out a pistol along with a suppresser. She attached the sound suppresser and turned off the safety.
She took in a deep breath and released it slowly, calming herself in the process. She’d known this day could happen and she was glad she was prepared. Whoever was in her house wouldn't take her without a fight.
As silently as possible, she opened the door and crept inside. She didn't turn on the light. Instead, she gave herself a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only light in the house was from the moon and the streetlamp at the end of her driveway filtering in around the breaks in the curtains.
She slipped her feet from the heels she was wearing and crept into the kitchen, keeping her back firmly planted against the wall. When she was certain the kitchen was clear, she proceeded on into the living room. Peering in from around the corner she noticed a figure - male, judging from his frame - sitting in her armchair across the room.
"What are you doing with Andrew, Lily? He's not the guy for you."
The voice was unmistakable. She'd dreamed of him every night for the past eight months. Some dreams had been horrific, some sweet and sensual, but always of him. Her body sang out with joy at the thought of him being here, but her anger and resentment posed more immediate forces.
