by Wendy Davy
Sierra crossed her arms and leaned forward, her blue eyes intent. “If you’re serious about staying by my side, we need to get one thing straight. You can pretend He’s not there, but don’t expect me to.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’m not pretending He’s not there, I’m just...” How could he explain he was angry at God for Amber’s death? He knew God wasn’t to blame, but the feelings remained. Chase shook his head—there was no easy explanation. “You’re not keeping your part of the bargain. Eat.” He looked pointedly to her untouched plate.
Sierra picked up her sandwich. “For what it’s worth, I do feel safer with you around.”
Chase liked being with Sierra and having her look at him as if he was some kind of hero did some crazy things to his insides. But, he couldn’t afford to lose sight of what was most important, and that meant keeping a diligent watch over Sierra, not wondering what it would be like to kiss her.
After giving her time to finish eating, Chase signaled the waitress for the bill. The sooner he checked himself into a room, the sooner he would be able to think his way through this.
****
Chase escorted Sierra outside. The brisk night air swept around them, and a sliver of moon peeked over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Insects and tree frogs created harmonic sounds, reminding Sierra of nature’s peaceful symphony. She wished she could internalize some of that peace. It never would’ve crossed her mind the worry stone Kevin carried around with him would be connected to Chase and Amber. The thought of Kevin keeping a trophy like a serial killer made prickles of fear crawl up her spine. She could only imagine how Chase had felt. But, after his initial reaction, he’d reigned in his emotions effectively. Too bad she couldn’t do the same.
Sierra took in a deep breath and paused on the sidewalk. “I wish I were here under different circumstances.”
Chase stepped beside her, scanning their surroundings. As if satisfied they were momentarily safe, his gaze landed on hers and held. “I do, too.”
Something shifted between them—something subtle, but very real—sending electrical pulses through her veins. Aware of every slight move Chase made, Sierra studied him closely. The diner’s outside lighting illuminated his eyes and showcased dark flecks within the emerald depths, reminding her of precious gemstones dug from the earth. She wondered what other treasures lay in wait beneath his surface.
He lifted a finger and traced the line of faded bruises on her neck. “I wish I could’ve prevented the pain you’ve been through. I despise what that man did to you. I should’ve—”
“You are not responsible for Kevin’s actions.”
Chase continued looking at her as if he had been the one who’d inflicted the bruises.
Pain and regret flashed in his eyes and on impulse, Sierra stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. A slight hint of aftershave lingered on his skin, and she breathed in the soothing scent. His heart beat fast, strong and steady against her cheek. After a moment, she backed away, lightheaded and off kilter. Touching Chase had awakened a dormant need for human contact, and Sierra struggled to keep from diving straight back into his arms.
His eyes darkened, and his gaze dropped to her lips. “Sierra.”
She felt desired, just by the way he said her name. Her breathing suspended. Her heart sped. Then her cell phone rang, shrill in the night air. She jumped, and then groped for her phone nestled in her back pocket. “My sister’s been worried about me.”
Chase straightened, cleared his throat and tucked his thumbs into his pockets. “Yeah. Of course. You should let her know you’re OK.”
“I am OK. Now that you’re with me,” Sierra admitted, unable to hold back a smile.
Chase returned her smile, making her wish the moment hadn’t been broken. He’d looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her, and she wondered if he would’ve followed through. Sierra fought to steady her voice as she answered her cell. “Hey. You can stop worrying.”
“Oh, I’m not worried at all. I warned you. You can run, but you can’t hide, bien-aimée,” a haunting male voice sounded over the line, low and familiar.
Ice sliced through Sierra’s veins, constricting her airway. Tears stung her eyes. She struggled for a coherent thought as she gasped for breath. Her head whipped from side to side, searching as if the voice’s owner could slither from a dark crevice like a deadly python and squeeze out her life. “How did you get my number? What do you want?”
Chase grabbed her by the shoulders. “What is it? Sierra, who’s on the phone?”
Silence ensued until Sierra thought Kevin had hung up, then his menacing voice came back. “It’s too bad that good-for-nothing scoundrel took a liking to you. I might have let him live if he hadn’t touched you.”
Tears erupted and sobs tore at her throat. “This is between me and you. Don’t—”
Kevin disconnected.
The phone slid from numb fingers and clattered to the sidewalk. “He’s here. Kevin’s watching us.” Sierra willed her feet to move, but fear paralyzed her, and her rubbery legs refused to cooperate.
A motorcycle roared to life. Tires squealed, and a single headlight speared the air as the bike propelled down the street toward them.
Alarm widened Chase’s eyes, and then he shoved Sierra. “Get down!”
Sierra slammed into the sidewalk, the jarring impact stealing her equilibrium. “Run, Chase. He’s after you!”
Kevin emerged from the shadows. He wore no helmet, and Sierra read the intentions in his wicked eyes as he approached.
“Look out!”
Kevin’s arm rose. Steel glinted beneath the street light as he took aim and fired.
12
Three earth shattering shots echoed off the surrounding buildings as Kevin pulled the trigger in quick succession. Chase drew a gun, pointed, and returned fire, squeezing off a single shot before jerking backwards. Blood sprayed from his upper body as he spun around and landed face down on rock-hard cement.
The motorcycle careened out of control, and both rider and machine fell to the asphalt, skidding, bouncing and rolling. The haunting sounds of scraping metal and gunshots abated, and Kevin’s shadowy silhouette lay motionless, sprawled on the street.
Sierra crawled on trembling knees toward Chase. It took all of her strength to roll him onto his back, exposing his blood soaked shirt. Sierra choked on a sob. “Dear God, save him. Don’t let him die.”
Chase’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and Sierra searched his pale face for signs of consciousness, but found none. Sierra’s hands roamed his neck, chest and arms as she looked for more wounds. Kevin had fired several times. How many bullets had torn into Chase’s flesh? What kind of damage had been done?
As the questions sank in, Chase’s blood continued to seep out. Crimson stains surrounded a hole torn in the material, growing into a wider circle. Putting her shock aside, Sierra pressed her palms against the gushing wound in his upper arm. An acrid scent filled her nostrils and tears fell haphazardly down her face as the possible implications whirled through her mind. Chase could bleed to death on the cold, unyielding sidewalk, all because he’d been protecting her.
Heavy boots scraped and crunched on asphalt as Kevin climbed to his feet and staggered around the downed motorcycle. Streetlights illuminated his cruel expression as he approached, and blood dripped from a deep gash running from temple to jaw.
In desperation, Sierra searched for Chase’s weapon. She spotted the gun several feet away, lying useless, leaving her at the mercy of a man who held deadly intent in his gaze.
With narrowed eyes, Kevin spread his legs wide and slowly lifted his arm, pointing a pistol straight at her. “It’s your turn.”
Sierra held her breath, waiting for the explosion that would end her life, but when shouts erupted from the diner, Kevin let out a curse, backed away, and shoved the weapon into his jeans. He struggled to lift the heavy motorcycle, but managed to bring it upright.
“This isn’t over.” Kevi
n hissed, with one last fleeting glance at Sierra. He kicked the ignition and revved the engine, tearing off down the street.
Footsteps approached and sirens wailed in the distance as Chase’s blood seeped through Sierra’s fingers. “He’s gone, Chase. He’s gone. Wake up. Please.”
“Are you all right?” A woman’s breathless voice came close as she knelt beside Sierra.
“I…I’m OK. But Chase isn’t.” Sierra looked aside to find the waitress dressed in yellow kneeling close.
“The ambulance is on its way.” She placed a hand on Sierra’s shoulder. “What on earth happened? Why would someone want to hurt your boyfriend?”
“Because of me.” Sierra answered, not bothering to correct the waitress’s assumption. Guilt slammed her, making her voice waver. “Kevin shot Chase because of me.”
“You know who did this?”
Before the woman could ask any more questions, police cars with sirens wailing, screeched to a halt. Flashing blue lights wound around Chase’s pale face as he lay unconscious. The scene before her seemed surreal as if she were on the set of an action packed movie, only in this case no director stood around to yell ‘cut’, and real blood oozed from the hero.
“Help,” Sierra whispered. “Help him. He’s been shot,” she cried.
Hands gripped her shoulders. “Move aside ma’am. We’ve got him.”
Sierra released Chase, scooted away and sat, drawing her knees to her chest as EMT’s and various authorities swarmed the area. One EMT checked Chase’s vitals while another pressed a thick gauze pad against his wound.
A young police officer spoke into his radio. “Officer down. I repeat, officer down.” He used codes and various numbers Sierra couldn’t decipher. Her gaze dropped to her hands. Chase’s blood began to dry and cake, darkening into a sick, dingy hue. Voices drifted in and out as dizziness ensued. Resting her forehead on her knees, Sierra took deep, steadying breaths and closed her eyes as seconds, minutes or hours passed. She couldn’t tell. Time took no meaning as her world collapsed around her. Again.
A warm blanket surrounded her, and Sierra opened her eyes. A blurry officer swam before her. Blinking away tears, she addressed the man with concerned, gray eyes peering down. “He’s out there. Hunting. Stalking. He won’t stop until I’m dead.”
13
Bright lights invaded the darkness. Pain and a sense of urgency filled Chase. Every instinct screamed to get up and fight, but his body refused to move. A steady beeping sounded along with his heartbeat and his head throbbed in tempo. Each time his head pounded, he felt as if his brain would explode.
Chase had always hated hospitals. He had more experience visiting the morgue than a patient’s room, but the effect was the same. His skin crawled as the scents of antiseptics coated his nostrils. Fluorescent lighting burned through his eyelids as if the sun joined him inside the room, directing blinding rays at his pupils. He turned his head searching for relief, and nausea claimed him. His arm ached, and each muscle in his body protested as he shifted. Wires and tubes hampered his movements, holding his left arm in a temporary prison.
He had never liked the feeling of being restrained, and today proved to be no exception. Chase fought against rising anxiety, knowing he could easily rip out the tubes and escape. But, the knowledge offered him little comfort as his thoughts turned to the reason he lay vulnerable in the bed.
“Sierra.” His voice cracked through his dry throat.
Forcing open his eyes, Chase looked for her. Various machines with glowing numbers made ominous noises, and an IV bag dripped some kind of solution into his vein. But, he was alone in the small, white room.
What had happened to Sierra? Was she still alive?
The thought of Sierra lying lifeless flashed in his mind, and fear jerked him fully awake. Had he failed to protect her? The thought sent a jolt of panic through him. He had to find Sierra. He had to know what happened. He attempted to sit up, and a sharp pain radiated down his arm.
A young nurse swept into the room and then skidded to a halt. Her wide eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The short-haired brunette attempted to settle Chase back onto the bed, but he refused to allow her. He read her name on the ID badge clipped to her scrubs. “Lisa, I have to find her.”
“Find who? You won’t be moving too fast with a hole in your arm. You should be thanking God that bullet didn’t land a few inches the other way. It would’ve torn clean through your heart.” She drawled out the words with a deep, southern accent.
Chase glanced to the bandage peeking out from under his flimsy cover-up. The nurse was right. He should be thanking God he was alive, but his thoughts weren’t on his own life—they were on Sierra. “Where are my clothes?”
“I’d imagine they’re in hazardous waste. You were shot. Blood got all over them. You probably don’t recall much about coming in here last night, do you?”
He remembered pain ripping through his body and seeing abject terror on Sierra’s face, but after that he couldn’t remember anything. “I want some clothes and I want out of here. Now!”
“You can’t go anywhere until Doctor Howard signs the discharge papers.”
“You want to make a bet?” Chase stood and then swayed as his vision narrowed.
Lisa grabbed his arm, coaxing him to sit again. “Besides”—she continued as if he hadn’t spoken or moved—”Sheriff Nelson wants a word with you. The nightshift nurse said he’s been waiting here for hours. Seems you being shot has woken up this sleepy town of ours. Nothing this exciting has happened around here since Old Man Ned got drunk and set his own barn on fire.”
“I was with a woman last night. Where is she?”
“I wouldn’t know. I just came in half an hour ago. Maybe the sheriff can tell you.”
“Go get him.”
“Now I’m sure he’ll come around shortly.” Lisa adjusted the IV bag, slowing the drip. “He was real anxious to talk to you. Rumor has it the guy who shot you was spotted outside the hospital last night.”
Chase broke out into a cold sweat and automatically reached for his Glock. He only found air where it was supposed to be. He had no doubt the weapon had been taken into evidence, leaving him without protection.
“I don’t put much stock in the rumors flying,” Lisa continued, oblivious of his dilemma. “You know how it is. Word gets around that a maniac’s on the loose and people start seein’ all kinds of things.”
Chase didn’t care what anyone thought they might have seen. His patience thinned. “I want clothes. I want my weapon. And, I want the woman. If you can’t help me, send in someone who can,” he said through clenched teeth.
Lisa’s eyes widened. “All right now. It’s gonna be OK. Just relax and I’ll see if the sheriff is close.” She scrambled out of the room.
Chase checked the clock. He would give the nurse five minutes, then he’d take matters into his own hands, even if it meant combing the hospital himself. One by one, he flexed his fingers, and then moved his legs. Although weakened, his muscles complied. Pain radiated from his upper arm, but it was bearable. At the moment, his pounding head concerned him more. He probably had a concussion and would have to be cautious for a few days.
As Chase waited, his anxiety grew. His mind swirled with possible scenarios. Sierra had been terrified. Even if she hadn’t been hit by a bullet, she might’ve fled the state. Eason could find her. Unless he already had her. Images flashed through his mind at what that man could do. A cold, numbing fear coursed through Chase’s body, tensing his muscles and heightening his urgency.
Please, God. Don’t let him hurt Sierra.
Chase realized he’d just talked to God for the first time in months, and a strange sensation swept over him. What had made him turn to God for help? Hadn’t he learned long ago God didn’t hear his pleas? Still, something inside told him God was listening.
A loud knock sounded on the door and a tall, thick man wearing a sheriff’s uniform and a
grim expression came in. His dark hair, graying at the temples, stuck out beneath a beige ball cap with the words ‘Shenandoah Sheriff’s Office’ embroidered on the front.
The man smoothed thick fingers over his full moustache as he settled into the room’s only chair, grunting as if relieved to take pressure from arthritic legs. “I’m Sheriff Neil Nelson. I suppose you know why I’m here, Mr. Price.”
Chase sat up, ignoring his throbbing head. “Where is Sierra Malone?”
The sheriff withdrew a notepad from his shirt pocket and flipped it open. “Let’s start with first things first. How about telling me what you were doing in my county pretending to be someone you’re not?”
14
Sierra steadied a cup of coffee while carrying a package of orange crackers. Vending machine snacks had never whetted her appetite, but considering it had been several hours since she’d eaten, her desire for food needed little encouragement. Even the scent of hospital cuisine smelled good as she passed a cart loaded with trays.
Taking care not to burn herself with coffee, she blinked to moisten her dry eyes and headed down the corridor. All through the night she’d waited at Chase’s side, praying he’d wake. He’d stirred a few times, but hadn’t opened his eyelids.
Sierra avoided a doctor making early morning rounds and approached Chase’s room. Deep voices sounded from within and she paused, listening. “I’m taking full responsibility for Sierra Malone’s safety. With all due respect, Sheriff, I’m not answering any questions until you answer mine. Where is she?” Chase’s smooth tones carried into the hallway, and relief weakened her knees.
“May I help you?” A nurse Sierra hadn’t seen before appeared at her side. “Only the sheriff and family members are allowed in to see Mr. Price. Are you his wife?”
“Wife? No.” The nurses had changed shifts, and this one had no way of knowing she’d spent the night by Chase’s bedside. “But, I need to see him.”
