KATE: MADISON KATE #4

by James Tate

  "Just be careful not to get your head wet, Princess," Archer murmured as he adjusted the angle of the spray. "I don't know if you can get that glue wet so soon."

  I just mumbled some sound of agreement and leaned against his hard body to stay upright. It was safe to say that was the worst beating I'd taken in a long time. Or... ever. Not even my car accidents had bruised me up so badly.

  Then again, I hadn't been stabbed this time, so there was a small victory.

  "I can't believe he fucking shot you," Archer whispered in outrage, his lips feathering over my forehead near the bullet graze.

  I let out a small laugh. "I told him to do it, Sunshine, so stop being a bear about it. You know how good Steele is; there was no way he'd take that shot if he thought for even a second he might miss."

  Archer just made a sound in his throat that was neither agreement nor disagreement. Regardless, he was the definition of caring as he gently washed dried blood, dirt, and grime from my battered skin. When I was clean, he hurried to rinse off himself, then bundled me up in a towel to carry me out.

  "I really can walk," I told him with a laugh as he carefully deposited me into bed.

  He just shrugged. "So?"

  That was an argument I couldn't win, so I just let him fuss around to get me comfortable. When I was all tucked in, he fetched me more painkillers and a sleeping pill, which I happily accepted.

  Before he could leave, I grabbed his hand. "Stay with me. Just until I'm asleep or something? I don't... I just need to feel you close."

  Archer gave me a small frown of concern, then nodded and climbed into my bed beside me. I clenched my teeth against a grimace of pain as he got comfy, then carefully snuggled into his embrace.

  "I thought you got shot for real," I confessed, my words mumbled into his chest. "I thought..." I couldn't even get the rest of those words out. It was bad enough watching Steele almost die of a shot to the chest, so when I'd seen that gun, heard a shot fired, then seen Archer collapse, my heart had stopped.

  Archer knew what I meant, though. He just rubbed soothing circles on my back and kissed my hair.

  "Baby girl, I'm like a cockroach. I can't be taken out so easily."

  I smiled at that image, then let my eyes close as the sleeping pill worked its magic over me. Terrifying, shadowed creatures lurked in the edges of my mind, though, filling me with anxiety and holding true sleep at arm's length.

  "It's not over yet, is it?" I whispered into the darkness.

  Archer's chest rose and fell under my face as he heaved a sigh. "No, Princess. It's not. But it will be really soon. I promise."

  38

  The next two days passed in a flash, mostly due to the fact that—aside from a trip to the hospital that next morning, for x-rays on my broken ribs, and to check for facial fractures—I slept almost around the clock. I woke up for occasional meals that the guys brought to me in bed and to pee. That was about it. By the time I dragged my ass into the shower on day three, I was feeling a hell of a lot better, even if I didn't look it.

  Actually, I really didn't look it. My face was a mess of purple and yellow bruising, and my ribs made me cringe just to look at. No amount of concealer was going to hide the state I was in, though, so I just tied my hair up—careful not to tug on my healing head wound—then headed downstairs to find the guys.

  "Hellcat!" Steele was the first to notice me enter the kitchen. "What are you doing out of bed?"

  I gave a small shrug. "I slept for the better part of three days; I got bored. And hungry. Is that pizza I smell?"

  "It sure is," Anna replied, pulling a fresh one from the oven and sliding it onto her chopping board. "But girl, you look a mess. Have you put any bruise balm on that face?"

  I blinked at her in confusion. "That's a thing?"

  The look of utter exasperation that she gave the boys over that comment was priceless.

  "Unbelievable," the cook muttered. "Just because you three think bruises make you look cool, doesn't mean you should let Madison Kate suffer. Goodness me. Wait here, sweetheart." She patted me on the shoulder and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving the fresh pizza uncut on her board.

  I wrinkled my nose at the guys in confusion, then winced as it moved my bruises. Yeah, if she had something to help, then I was all for it.

  "Come here, babe." Kody reached out his hand to me. When I took it, he pulled me—carefully—into his lap rather than onto the empty bar stool beside him. He kissed my slightly less-bruised cheek and gave me a light squeeze. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like I got beaten the hell up," I replied with a snort of laughter, "but actually a shitload better than I was. What time is it, anyway?" I had no idea where my phone was and hadn't even tried looking for it.

  "Dinnertime," Steele told me, grinning wide as he cut the pizza up in Anna's absence. He had flour streaked over his face and an apron tied around his neck, so I had to assume he'd been assisting.

  Anna came back in carrying a little purple tub of cream and instructed Kody to spread it all over my bruises. He did as he was told, smoothing the peppermint-scented cream over my face with gentle fingers.

  "We might need to move to the couch to do the rest," I told him when he finished rubbing the bruise balm onto my puffy cheekbone. He followed me over to the sofa in the open plan living area off the kitchen, and I pulled my T-shirt up for him to access my ribs.

  Kody's brow furrowed as he worked—carefully avoiding the area where my ribs were broken—and I knew it was out of concern for my injuries. When he was done, I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him hard.

  "I'm fine, Kodiak," I whispered against his lips. "It's just bruising."

  He kissed me back, but his brow was still tense and furrowed as he smoothed my T-shirt back down over my peppermint-scented skin.

  "You shouldn't be getting hurt like this, babe," he murmured in a low voice. "What fucking use are we if we can't keep you safe?"

  I got it. I did. I’d felt the same fucking way when Steele was shot. But self-pity never changed the past, and there was nothing to be gained by entertaining what-ifs. So I bopped him on the nose with my finger.

  "Stop it."

  His brows shot up in surprise. "Uh..."

  "No, seriously, Kody. Stop it. What's done is done, and you know what? It actually worked out for the best. We killed Kruger. The hit on me was canceled. We got rid of Zane and his slimy little lieutenants. I feel a hell of a lot better with Cass in charge of the Reapers, don't you?"

  A loud crash of breaking glass cut off whatever he might have replied, and Kody all but threw me down into the couch. He covered me almost completely with his body, blocking my view of whatever the fuck was going on.

  Not that I needed to see.

  "Gas!" Archer shouted, the alarm in his voice clear as day.

  "Stay behind me," Kody ordered. He rolled off me and deftly caught a gun that Steele tossed him from the cutlery drawer. "Cover your mouth and nose," he added, coughing.

  It wasn't hard to see what he meant. Several canisters of gas had been tossed through the smashed windows and were spurting thick plumes of chemical smoke into the room.

  A moment later, four men clad entirely in black with full-face gasmasks climbed through those broken windows with guns drawn. More fool, them. They should have waited longer for the gas to do its trick because all four of them were dead before they’d even taken two steps into the kitchen.

  "MK, get to the panic room!" Kody barked, covering his face with his T-shirt and holding his gun steady as he waited for more attackers to enter.

  The gas was getting thicker, making my head swim and my vision blur, but I staggered in the direction of the foyer. I needed to get across the garage to the hidden panel.

  "Here!" Anna shouted, tossing me a wet washcloth. She had one clasped to her own face and a heavy skillet in her other hand.

  I followed suit, breathing through the wet fabric to filter the gas somewhat, then watched in shock as a gas-masked man appeared from the
corridor and grabbed for Anna. She was ready for him, though, and smacked him so hard in the face with her skillet that blood splattered the wall as he collapsed.

  "Fuck," I exclaimed as she smacked the man one more time before collapsing herself.

  "Run, girl," she croaked at me, then dissolved into coughing as her eyes rolled back.

  Tight fingers circled my upper arm, and I almost lashed out before recognizing Steele behind me. "Hurry," he told me in a strained voice. His face was deathly pale, his lips turning a weird shade of blue, but his eyes were determined.

  I dragged a lungful of air through my washcloth and raced out into the foyer, leaving Kody and Archer shooting at people behind us. Fucking hell, how many attackers were coming for us? But more to the point, why? The hit had been canceled. Kruger was dead. What the fuck was even happening right now?

  Steele ran with me through the marble foyer to the garage, but jerked me out of the way a fraction of a second before I passed through the doorway. Not a moment too soon, either. Two gasmask-wearing men came through the doorway, and Steele dropped the first one with a shot. Then his gun clicked empty. Thinking quick, he charged at the second man, shoving him back through the doorway, and slammed the door shut and locked it.

  "Shit," he wheezed. With a panicked look, he pushed me in the direction of the stairs. "Other entrance," he ordered me. "Run, don't stop. They must have gassed the AC."

  That was all he managed to tell me before several gunshots fired through the flimsy door and narrowly missed hitting him.

  "Go!" he roared, ducking out of the way as the door burst open in a shower of splintering wood.

  I stumbled, coughing, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins pushed me forward. Taking the stairs three at a time, I barely even breathed, not wanting to inhale the gas and succumb to unconsciousness. Shouts and gunfire echoed through the house below me, but I didn't look. Anyone who'd watched a slasher flick knew the second you looked, you'd trip, fall, and ultimately die a painful, gruesome death. No thanks.

  The guys had said there was a panic room access point from the second linen closet; I just needed to get there without being caught. Or, fuck, was it the third linen closet? On the left or the right? Who the fuck had so many closets anyway?

  Taking a gamble, I went with my first instinct and yanked the door open as my vision swirled dangerously. I needed to hurry the hell up, or I'd pass out.

  Someone had to be smiling down on me, though, because it only took a few seconds to pop open the hidden panel and slip into the darkness of the narrow staircase. I descended so fast I practically tumbled the last few steps, then slammed my palm onto the biometric scanner.

  The door slid open immediately, and I threw myself forward. My vision was almost entirely black and my limbs felt like they were moving through custard as I reached up and pressed the button to close the door.

  It slid closed silently, but not before I saw a gasmask-wearing man storming down the tight corridor toward me.

  "Too late, fucker," I croaked as the door sealed, cutting him off from me as securely as Fort fucking Knox.

  There was a moment of dead silence, then a soft whirring started up and a cool breeze washed over my face from the vents near the floor. A spike of panic shot through me, but I quickly remembered the panic room operated on an independent AC unit from the main house. Thank fuck, too. I inhaled deeply, groaning as the clean air filled my lungs and cleared my head.

  A buzz sounded through the panic room, and a chill crept over my skin. Whoever was outside was using the intercom.

  Drawing a couple more deep breaths, I climbed up off the floor and opened the panel beside the door, which would show me whoever was outside. Unsurprisingly, it was the gas-masked attacker who'd just missed me as the door closed.

  Biting my lip, I stared at the screen. Did I know this person? Or were all the gas-masked fucks just hired muscle? I sure as fuck wasn't letting him in, regardless of whether I knew him or not. So I didn't know what the point of buzzing me was.

  And yet he buzzed again.

  My temper got the best of me, and I stabbed the talk button on my panel. "What the fuck do you want?" I snapped.

  "Open the door, Madison Kate," the man responded. His voice was muffled by his mask, his identity still a total secret. He was head to toe in black, even wearing gloves, so there were no distinguishing tattoos or marks.

  I scoffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah sure, let me just open the door and let you murder me. Shall I make it easier and just shoot myself in the head so you can save some bullets?"

  There was a long pause where I imagined my attacker might be pondering how useful that would be. If my offer hadn’t been dripping in sarcasm, that was.

  "Open the door, Madison Kate," he repeated after a moment. "I won't hurt you. I'm trying to keep you safe."

  My jaw dropped. Then realization washed over me. This was my stalker. My actual stalker. In the fucking flesh. Holy shit. Holy shit!

  "Madison Kate, they can't keep you safe," my stalker continued, his tone totally flat and even. Not a shred of emotion carried through, and that just scared me all the more. "Look at what happened the other night. You almost died because those boys don't care about you. Not really. Not like I do."

  What. The. Fuck.

  All the messed-up, sick, and twisted things my stalker had done over the last year crossed my mind in a flash. The dead animals. The Barbie dolls. Drew getting her throat cut, me getting drugged and locked in a trunk, the human heart, the mutilated blogger... the list went on. And then there were the crimes against my mom. Her attack and rape. Her pregnancy.

  Fuck. Holy fuck.

  Terror flowed freely through my veins, making my whole body tremble, but I didn't take the bait and reply. Instead, I turned my back on the door and made my way over to the surveillance desk. There were eight flat-screen monitors mounted on the wall, and a tap to the keyboard brought them all to life. In an instant, I had eyes on the entire estate, but I couldn't see my guys anywhere.

  I spotted plenty of unconscious or dead assailants, all in black and none of them looking remotely like my guys... So that was something.

  "Madison Kate," my stalker at the door called out again. I must have left the intercom turned on. "Just open the door and come with me. I won't hurt you. I've never wanted to hurt you. Just look at all I've done to keep you safe."

  My gaze scanned the screens again as I desperately searched for my guys and still came up blank. Fuck. Where were they? Had they gotten out of the house? That was the logical thing to do when the vents were pumping gas through the house. They'd have gone outside to stay conscious.

  Unless they hadn’t made it that far.

  Shit. Now what the hell did I do? Were there guns in the panic room? Of course there would be. There was a gun in the cutlery drawer; there would definitely be at least one in the panic room.

  "Do not keep me waiting, Madison Kate," my stalker snapped, finally showing some emotion. It was anger, but still. It was something. "You do not want to piss me off."

  Sneering, I returned to the door panel. "Or fucking what? You're gonna stand there and stamp your feet like a brat? You can't get in here, and you fucking well know it. You lost this round."

  I was confident his primary objective was me. He wasn't here to kill the guys; he was here to abduct me. So as long as I was out of reach, we were at a stalemate. Right?

  "Very well, you want to play hard to get." My stalker sounded almost amused. How was it that being amused was scarier than angry? "I'll fetch some more incentive, then. Don't go anywhere, my sweet. I'll be right back."

  He didn't wait for me to reply—if I even had anything to say—just spun on his heel and stalked away from the panic room with determined strides. His gait was strong and confident with not even a hint of a limp. That crossed Officer Shane off my list of suspects.

  After he disappeared from my door camera, I raced back to the surveillance panel and followed him from screen to screen.

 
"What the hell are you doing?" I muttered aloud, chewing at my lip as he passed through the den and exited out to the back patio. A burst of movement on another screen grabbed my attention, though, and I spotted Archer locked in a hand-to-hand fight with one of the black-clad attackers.

  My heart in my throat, I watched enthralled as they traded punches, but instantly I knew something was wrong. Archer's movements were too slow. Sluggish. And he was massively favoring his right side, like he'd taken an injury there recently.

  Even so, he was getting the upper hand on his opponent. Until my stalker entered the frame. How I knew it was him, I had no idea. Call it a hunch.

  I gasped, internally screaming because there was nothing I could do to warn Archer. Every fiber in my being wanted to scream at him to turn around, to look behind you! But it was futile. They were in the gym, way too far for me to get up there. I could do nothing but watch as my stalker picked up one of the dumbbells from the weights rack, then struck Archer in the back of the head with it.

  Archer crumpled, a smear of blood showing vividly against the light blue floor as my heart tore in half.

  My stalker turned his masked face directly towards the surveillance camera, and I knew perfectly well he was sending me a message. Not only was this my fault for taunting him, he was also telling me he knew exactly where the hidden cameras were. But of course he did. He'd been hacking the footage and tampering with angles right up until Leon and Danny secured our network, after all.

  "Holy shit," I whispered, my voice fading into a bit of a whimper.

  In the gym, my stalker used the assistance of the guy Archer had been fighting and between them, dragged my man out of the room. Once again, I followed them from screen to screen, even though I knew full well where they were going.

  By the time they’d dragged Archer's unconscious body along the narrow corridor outside the panic room, my face was wet with tears and my stomach churning with bile. Where were Kody and Steele? Were they even still alive?