Jared grabbed her by the arm and slammed her against the wall. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he snarled. “Finally.”
She gasped, adrenaline and panic scrambling her brain. “H-how—”
“You come here alone?” He pressed his forearm across her neck.
She nodded.
“’Bout time you came home, bitch. Where’s my boy?”
“H-he’s with friends,” she stammered. Jared backed off, kept the rifle aimed at her and glared. Her heart pounding, she sneaked her hand into her purse, searching for the small leather-clad canister of pepper spray.
Jared slammed the butt of the rifle into her ribs. “Ahh.” She bent over, the wall behind her the only thing keeping her upright. Pain radiated through her side, and she couldn’t breathe. Her purse slipped to the floor, and he kicked it out of her reach.
“Where’s your bodyguard now? Huh?” He laughed, and the sound cut through her like fingernails on slate. “Damn, Kara. I’ve been waiting for this for far too long. Wasn’t nice of you to make me wait. I knew you’d have to come home eventually, knew you’d need more of Ty’s stuff . . . or yours.”
“Wh-what . . .” God, she had to pull it together. She wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t without skills of her own. “What do you want, Jared?”
“I told you. I’m not leaving this hellhole without my son. He belongs to me, and you had no right to take him. A boy needs his father.” He put a hand around her neck and slammed her head against the Sheetrock. “That big goon. You sleeping with him?” He squeezed her throat, then he suddenly let her go and paced before her like a zoo animal in a concrete cage. “Of course you are. Once a whore, always a whore. I’m gonna kill that fucker.”
No! Her eyes stung, and panic choked the air from her lungs. Dammit, think. She forced herself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Wes was a Marine. He was armed, and he’d know how to deal with a lunatic. Plus, two US Marshals and three combat veterans had his back. No way Jared could get past them to hurt Wesley.
What were the men in her yard doing right now? She should’ve left the house immediately, and they had to know something had gone wrong. She needed time, and she didn’t want to tip Jared off that her house was surrounded. Things would get really ugly if she became trapped inside between the marshals and Jared. Think.
She knew Jared. He had an ego. The idiot had always believed he was smarter than everyone else, and the man loved to brag. If she could keep him talking, she could buy some time to pull herself together and make a plan. “How did you get inside my house?”
“Easy.” He stopped pacing, pointed the rifle at her and puffed out his chest. “The day that big dumb lug of yours broke down the door, I hid in the woods and waited until you all left.” He shot her a look of disdain. “We were married for five years, Kara. I know your habits.”
He started pacing again, as if he couldn’t stay still. Was he high? She tried to catch a glimpse of his eyes, but the light in the hall was too dim for her to see them clearly. If he was high . . . Oh, God.
“I pried the broken door open, slipped in and went through your kitchen drawers.” A look of triumph suffused his face. He pulled her spare set of keys from his back pocket and dangled them in front of her. “You’re so dumb. Predictable.” His burst of frenetic laughter sent shivers down her spine. His lips curled into a sneer. “You’re so stupid, you made it easy. You always kept our spare keys in a kitchen drawer. Remember? All I had to do was get inside and look for them.”
She knew that manic laugh. Jared was high on something. Meth or crack. Her heart slammed against her aching ribs. That made him ten times as unstable and unpredictable.
“Once I had the keys, I put the door back and hammered the nails in place with a rock. Then I made sure to destroy any signs that I’d been there.” He swiped his sleeve across his forehead, his eyes darting around the house and back to her. “You came alone, right?”
“You already asked me that. If somebody was here with me, you’d know by now.” She swallowed the fear lodged in her throat and forced herself to get air into her lungs. “You managed to elude an entire SWAT team, the sheriff’s department and a heat-detecting helicopter,” she said, stroking his ego. “How’d you do that?”
Jared wanted his son. He wouldn’t kill her until she led him to Tyler—unless the men outside stormed the house. God, don’t let them do that! A plan began to take shape. Pretend defeat, go along with him and get him outside. She was no longer the defenseless victim she’d once been. She knew a few moves. Once they got to her car . . .
“Too smart for those idiots.” Jared tapped his temple. “The second I heard the helicopter, I knew what was up. I took off, went across the river to Louisville and laid low for a few days until the heat let up.” He smirked. “Of course, I knew better than to move in here right away. Nope. I waited and watched. Once I was sure nobody was keeping an eye on your place, I made myself at home. By the way, we’re out of groceries, honey. Sorry ’bout that.” He laughed at his own joke, sniffed and swiped his sleeve over his forehead again.
“You’re smart, all right,” she lied, wrapping her arms around the throbbing ache in her middle. “So what’s the plan? I’m not going to fight you anymore.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes narrowed. “But it doesn’t matter. You either cooperate, or I’ll put a bullet in your head and dump your body in a ditch.” He snorted. “Not until I get what I came for, though.” He pressed the barrel of the rifle under her jaw again. “If you behave, maybe I’ll let you live.”
Anger freed her from the stranglehold of fear and panic. No way was she going to let this lowlife scumbag get anywhere near her son. She knew what she had to do. “OK, OK. I want to live,” she cried, feigning submissiveness. “Please, let me live.” She poured on the pleading tone. “Tyler needs me. If you take him, take me, too. You know you can’t take care of him by yourself.”
Jared straightened. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He yanked her away from the wall by her jacket. “We’re going outside to your car, and we’re going to drive to wherever it is that these friends of yours have my boy.” He wrapped his arm around her neck and forced her toward the front door. “You’re going to walk up to their house like everything is all hunky-dory and you’re just there to pick up our son.” He squeezed her neck. “If you don’t act like everything is fine,” he whispered in her ear, “I’ll have to shoot you . . . and your friends, too. You understand?”
Seething, she nodded. Thanks to the Warriors’ Den, she knew how to get out of the hold he had on her. She must have practiced the technique at least a thousand times. She just had to wait until the time was right, and then she’d make her move.
She said a prayer that everything would go the way she hoped and that Wesley would know what she was up to. She had to come up with a way to show him that she had things under control. If he didn’t get it, he’d do something rash, putting himself at risk. If only she could text him.
Trust me, Wes, and wait until I’m out of the way before you do anything.
Wes shivered and drew his collar tighter around his neck. Minutes went by, and silence blanketed the area—the kind of quiet that only happened in rural areas. The moon rising on the horizon peeked out from between the clouds, its silver light casting ghostly shadows in the surrounding fields. An owl hooted, and then a cow mooed from the farm down the road before everything once again went still.
His phone vibrated in his breast pocket. “Dammit, Ken,” he muttered under his breath. He pulled it out, ready to order his friend to knock it off. He hit the message icon, and his blood turned to ice in his veins as he read Bruce’s text.
Ms. Stewart did not come out of the back door as planned. Repeat, Carlie has not exited the house.
Wes shot up and drew his gun, his blood going from ice-cold dread to fiery rage in an instant. Baumann was inside the house with her. How? Wes would tear the place down with his bare hands to get to her. He took a step, the need to p
rotect Carlie overriding good sense.
“Get down,” Andrew hissed. The marshal grabbed Wes’s arm and yanked him to the ground.
“He’s in there with her,” Wes hissed back. His heart pounded so hard, he was sure Baumann would hear it from all the way inside the house.
“Maybe.” Andrew kept hold of Wes’s arm. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean the guy knows we’re outside. Baumann wants his son, and he knows no one is going to hand the kid over to him. Carlie’s the only one who can get to Tyler. If Baumann is in there, he’ll come out . . . with Carlie.” The marshal drew out his phone and texted to everyone to stay put.
When? Baumann could keep Carlie prisoner for hours, torturing her into compliance. The thought of that asshole’s hands on her turned Wes inside out. Fear and rage arced along his nerves, alternately setting him on fire, then chilling him with dread. “Fuck, fucking fuck!” he huffed out under his breath.
“Pull it together.” Andrew gripped Wes’s shoulder. “Or back away. You’re no good to Carlie if you lose it.”
Wes sucked in a breath and nodded. Andrew slipped away into the darkness. Seething, Wes undid the safety on his gun and stared at Carlie’s front door. Time crept by, each minute a century. Wes tried to flip the Off switch to his roiling emotions—and failed. Dammit!
Letting Carlie down was not an option. If she had a single bruise on her, not even the marshals would be able to stop him from tearing Baumann apart. He’d fucking eviscerate the guy. How the hell did Baumann get into the house? They’d all checked. No one saw any signs of a break-in, or they would’ve alerted the team before Carlie went inside.
The front door opened, and Wes’s full attention centered on the two emerging figures. Carlie and her ex walked out and down the concrete steps to the yard. Baumann had his arm wrapped around her neck, and he held the stolen hunting rifle loosely slung over his left arm. Carlie held her arms around her middle like she was in pain.
Wes saw red—murderous red. Carlie scanned the yard, her expression determined, calm. He knew that look. She was planning something. He only hoped the marshal saw what he did.
Once she and Baumann got to her Ford, Carlie twisted out of her ex’s hold and shoved him away from her. Then she dove to the ground and scrambled under her SUV.
“Goddamned bitch!” Baumann shouted, bringing the rifle to his hands. He started to go after Carlie.
Dammit! He had to do something. Wes shot up with his gun raised and ready. If he needed to kill the bastard, he would, and the consequences be damned. “You’re surrounded, Baumann. Give it up.”
“US Marshal,” Andrew shouted at the same time. “Drop your weapon.” He leaned out from behind his cover with his gun aimed at Baumann.
“You!” Baumann straightened and swung the rifle in Wes’s direction. Glaring, he lifted the barrel and fired.
The impact sent Wesley staggering back. His left side stung, then burned like holy hell.
“Get down, Wes!” Ken shouted.
Wes dropped, all right. Not because he’d been ordered to, but because the searing pain brought him to the ground. He fell flat on his back, writhing in agony, unable to get breath into his lungs. Shouts and three more shots filled the air. Liquid warmth spread along his side. Somehow he managed to get his jacket unzipped. He pressed against the wound, and his hand came away covered in blood. His vision began to narrow, and he felt himself slipping out of consciousness. “No,” he groaned. “Not now . . .” Not when he had so much to live for.
Everything about his life came into sharp focus then. He loved Carlie and Ty, dammit, and he wanted a lifetime with them. He wanted to grow old with Carlie and watch Ty turn into the fine young man he knew he would become. I’m a fool.
He’d been too stubborn and afraid to grab the gift he’d been given, refusing to surrender completely, heart and soul. What he and Carlie had was worth far more than his fear and his stupid pride, and yet he’d refused to set aside his baggage for her.
His breaths came in shallow, pain-filled gasps. Don’t let it be too late. Please, God, don’t let me bleed out before I tell Carlie I love her! She needs to know.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CARLIE’S HEART PUMMELED HER BRUISED ribs. She hugged the dirt under her car as the rifle Jared held went off, sending shock waves through her. Someone shouted, and she peered out from between the rear tires. Horrified, she watched helplessly as Wesley fell. More shouts and gunshots reverberated through the air, and her ex thudded to the ground a few feet from where she hid.
“Wesley!” Carlie cried, scrambling out from under her car. Let him be alive. Please let him be alive! She grimaced as she stood. Shoving the pain aside, she took off toward the spot where Wes had disappeared behind the brush.
Kyle grabbed her by the arm as she ran by him. “Let me go!” She tried to twist out of his hold, desperation to get to Wes clawing at her.
“Wes needs our help, Carlie.” He gave her a shake. “Go get clean towels and a blanket.” He pushed her in the direction of the house, and then he took off at a run. “Now!” he shouted over his shoulder.
In a haze of shock, she dashed back to the house, hurried to the linen closet and snatched an armload of towels and a thick woolen blanket. Racing back outside, she hardly spared a glance at Jared’s still form sprawled out in the dirt. Bruce Murphy was checking him for a pulse. Was he dead? She didn’t know or care. Both marshals were there. Let them deal with her ex. Nothing else mattered but getting to Wesley.
Kyle took the towels and blanket from her trembling hands. She dropped to her knees behind Wes and cradled his head between her palms. “Wesley,” she sobbed. “Oh, Wes . . .”
Turning him on his side, Kyle probed around his back, eliciting a wince and a sudden indrawn breath from Wes. Kyle unbuckled Wesley’s belt and yanked it out of the loops of his pants, laying it out under him. “The bullet went straight through. Hang on, buddy. I’ve got you.” Kyle pressed a towel to the wound on his back and laid him down gently on top of the leather belt. Then he placed a folded hand towel over the entrance wound and brought the belt around to fasten the makeshift bandages in place. “Damn, should’ve brought a medical kit,” Kyle muttered.
“Ambulance is on the way,” Ryan said, hovering over them with Ken coming up fast behind him.
Kyle nodded. “Cover him with the blanket, and prop his feet up on a few of the towels.” He glanced at Carlie. “The bleeding is slowing.”
She kept Wes’s face cradled between her hands, needing the contact. If only she could will her strength into him through her palms, or somehow take the injury from him, she would.
Wesley’s eyes flickered open, and he brought a hand up to grip hers. “Carlie . . . want to . . . need to tell you . . . I . . . I want to . . . surrender . . .”
Surrender? What the hell did that mean? Surrender to death? She gripped his large hand with both of hers. “Don’t you dare,” she commanded, but her words were wasted. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went slack. A wrenching sob tore through her, and she brought his hand to her face, pressing it against her cheek.
“Wes has lost a lot of blood.” Kyle placed two fingers over the artery under Wes’s jaw. “But he’s got a pulse and he’s breathing. He’s just fainted.”
Relief swept through her. Sirens approaching grew louder by the second, splitting the air with their shrill warning. Let the ambulance get here in time. God, please let them get Wesley to the hospital in time! A few minutes later, the ambulance and the sheriff’s vehicles turned her yard into a light show of pulsing red, amber and blue. The EMTs wheeled a gurney over. The two attendants started working on Wes even as they lifted him onto the gurney. They checked his vitals and slipped an oxygen mask over his face as they wheeled him to the waiting ambulance.
Carlie hurried after them. “I want to ride with him to the hospital.”
“Sorry.” The closest EMT shook his head; the two of them hoisted the gurney into the back, jumping in after it. “Can’t let you, not in a tra
uma situation.”
“Where are you taking him?” she asked as he began to close the doors.
“Trauma center at St. Mary’s in Boonville.” The double doors shut, and the ambulance took off with the siren slicing through the air again.
Carlie stood in the yard, her gaze fixed on the ambulance taking Wesley away. Her world crumbled around her. This was all her fault. She’d allowed him to get involved in her problems, and look where it led. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She lifted her hands to swipe them away. They were covered in blood. Wes’s blood. Raw, aching grief tore her heart in two, and bile rose to the back of her throat.
“Hey.” Ken laid his hands on her shoulders gently, turning her toward the house. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“I . . . I can’t go back into that house. Not ever.” She glanced at Jared’s prone form. He hadn’t moved. The sheriff and the marshals stood around him, talking and making notes. Two deputies were putting up yellow plastic tape all around the yard. One of them walked over and sprayed a white outline around Jared. The shaking started up again.
“OK.” Ken patted her shoulder. “You wait here, and I’ll see what I can put together.” He took off at a trot toward the house.
She didn’t want to be left alone, but she didn’t want to get any closer to her ex’s corpse, either. She was free, free from the terror for good, but at what cost? Wesley. The price of her freedom was far too great. She choked on a sob and wrapped her arms around her aching rib cage. The group conferring around her ex broke up, and Andrew and the sheriff walked over to her.
“How are you holding up?” Andrew asked.
She shook her head, swallowing convulsively.
“Maybe you should sit down.” Paul took her by the elbow. “Is your car unlocked?”
“I . . . I want to get away from here.” Crime scene tape surrounded her house and yard, a stark reminder of the terror the night held. “I have to get to the hospital. Ken offered to drive me there.” Speaking of Ken, he strode toward her with the plastic dish tub she kept in her sink, a couple of dish towels draped over one shoulder and her purse slung over his wrist. “Can I leave?” she asked.
The Twisted Road to You (Perfect, Indiana Book 4) Page 21
