In response he heard that same muffled, strange scream, even more urgent this time than before.
It took him more than half a minute to realize what was going on, the lag due to the fact that it all looked so surreal, literally as if it had been lifted from some bad slasher movie.
Susan had silver tape wrapped around over half her body, sealing her to one of her kitchen chairs. There was blood on her, blood on the floor and a deranged-looking man wielding a knife which he nervously shifted back and forth, holding it to Susan’s throat, then aiming it toward Duke to keep him at bay. The man continued to move the knife back and forth in jerky motions, as if he couldn’t decide which he wanted to do more—kill Susan or kill Duke.
Duke wasn’t about to give the man a chance to make up his mind.
With a guttural yell that was pure animal, Duke sailed through the air and threw himself against Susan’s attacker, knocking the man to the floor. The assailant continued to clutch his knife. Duke saw the blood on it.
Susan’s blood.
Sick to his stomach, he almost threw up.
And then a surge of adrenaline shot through him. Duke grabbed the man’s wrist, forcing him to hold the knife aloft where, he hoped, the sharp blade couldn’t do any harm.
Restraining Susan’s attacker wasn’t easy. The man turned out to be stronger than he looked, or maybe it was desperation that managed somehow to increase his physical strength. Duke didn’t know, didn’t have the time to try to analyze it and didn’t care. All he knew was that he had to save Susan at any cost, even if it meant that he would wind up forfeiting his own life in exchange.
It was at that moment, with adrenaline racing wildly through his veins as he faced down a madman with a knife, that Duke realized that without Susan, he didn’t have a life, or at least, not one that he believed was worth living.
It was a hell of an awakening.
“Who the hell are you?” Duke bellowed as he continued to grapple with the man.
“I’m Hank McWilliams, the husband of the woman you killed,” he replied angrily, stunning Duke.
McWilliams wrenched his hand free and slashed wildly at Duke’s shoulder. He hit his target, piercing Duke’s flesh and drawing blood. He also succeeded in enraging Duke further.
The fight for possession of the weapon was intense, but ultimately short if measured in minutes rather than damage. Disarming McWilliams amounted to Duke having to twist his arm back so hard that he wound up snapping one of the man’s bones.
Sounding like a gutted animal, McWilliams’s shrill scream filled the air.
Duke was aware of the sound of running feet somewhere behind him and cries of dismayed horror. Prepared for anything, he looked up to see Donald and Bonnie Gene charging into the house.
“I need rope to tie this bastard up,” he yelled at Bonnie Gene, sucking in air. “Donald, call the sheriff. Tell my brother I caught the guy stalking Susan.”
Grabbing a length of cord from one of the upper kitchen cabinets, Bonnie Gene ran back into the living room.
“Someone was stalking Susan?” she cried, alarmed.
Panting, Duke had already allowed Donald to take over holding McWilliams down. Donald had done it wordlessly by planting his considerable bulk on the man, who was lying facedown on the floor. Taking the rope from his wife, he tied McWilliams up as neatly as he’d tied any horizontally sliced tenderloin that had come across his work table.
Not waiting for an answer to her question, Bonnie Gene hurried over to her daughter, who was struggling to remain conscious.
Duke had already begun removing the duct tape from around her. Susan was trying not to whimper but every movement he made, however slight, brought salvos of pain with it.
“I’m sorry,” Duke kept saying over and over again as he peeled away the duct tape. “I’m trying to be quick about it.”
“It’s okay,” Susan breathed, struggling to pull air into her oxygen-depleted lungs.
“Oh, my poor baby,” Bonnie Gene cried, feeling horribly helpless. A sense of torment echoed through her as she took in her daughter’s wounds.
Standing back as Duke worked to remove the rest of the duct tape, Bonnie Gene quickly assessed the number of wounds that Susan had sustained. A cry of anguish ripped from her lips when she reached her total.
Bonnie Gene swung around and kicked McWilliams in the ribs six times, once for each stab wound that her daughter had suffered. As she kicked, Bonnie Gene heaped a number of curses on the man her husband had no idea she knew. Donald looked at her with renewed admiration.
“You’re going to be okay, Susan, you’re going to be okay. I don’t think the bastard hit anything vital,” Duke told Susan as he looked over her wounds.
He felt his gut twisting as he assessed each and every one. As gently as he could, he picked Susan up in his arms and turned toward the door. He almost walked into Bonnie Gene, who was hovering next to him, trying hard not to look as frightened as she probably felt.
“I’m going to take Susan to the hospital,” he told her mother.
Bonnie Gene bobbed her head up and down quickly, glad for the moment that someone had taken over.
“We’ll use my car,” she told him, digging into her pocket for her keys. “It’s faster than your truck,” she added when he looked at her quizzically.
“I’ll get…blood…all over…it,” Susan protested haltingly. The fifty-thousand-dollar car was her mother’s pride and joy, her baby now that her children were all grown.
“Like I care,” Bonnie Gene managed to get out, unshed tears all but strangling her. Getting out in front, she quickly led the way out of the house.
“Don’t let him out of your sight until my brother gets here,” Duke cautioned Donald just before he left the house with Susan.
“I’m not even going to let him out from under my butt,” Donald assured him, raising his voice. “Just get my daughter to the hospital.”
But he was talking to an empty doorway.
Looking back later, Duke had no idea how he survived the next few hours.
The moment Bonnie Gene drove them into the hospital’s parking lot, he all but leaped out of the vehicle, holding an unconscious Susan in his arms, pressed against his chest. Silently willing her to be all right.
Terrified that she wasn’t going to be.
A general surgeon was on call. One look at Susan and Dr. Masters had the nurses whisking her into the operating room to treat the multiple stab wounds on her torso. The surgeon tossed a couple of words in their general direction as he hurried off to get ready himself.
That left Duke and Bonnie Gene waiting in the hall as the minutes, which had flowed away so quickly earlier, now dragged themselves by in slow motion, one chained to another.
There was nothing to do but wait and wait. And then wait some more.
Duke wore a rut in the flat, neutral carpeting in the hallway directly outside the O.R. His brain swerved from one bad scenario to another, leaving him more and more agitated, pessimistic and progressively more devastated with every moment that went by.
Sometime during this suspended sentence in limbo, Donald arrived to ask after his youngest daughter and to tell them what had happened at the guest house after his wife and Duke had left. The sheriff had arrived soon after they drove off for the hospital, and Donald had quickly filled Wes in on what he knew, which wasn’t much. After turning McWilliams over to the sheriff, Donald had sped to the hospital.
“She’s a strong girl,” Donald assured Duke, taking pity on the young man. “She takes after my side of the family.”
Bonnie Gene looked up, leaving the dark corridors of her fears. Though she was trying to keep a positive outlook, it was still difficult not to give in to the fears that haunted every mother.
“Susan gets her strength from my side of the family,” Bonnie Gene contradicted.
“Right now, she needs all the strength she can beg, borrow or steal from both sides,” Duke told the pair impatiently. The last thing he was i
n the mood for was to listen to any kind of bickering.
Bonnie Gene rose, taking a deep, fortifying breath and doing her best to look cheerful, even as she struggled with the question of how this could have happened to her baby. And right under her nose, too.
She put her hand on Duke’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. “She’ll pull through, Duke. Susan might not look it, but she’s a fighter.” Her eyes met Donald’s for affirmation. “She always has been.”
Duke made no response. He really didn’t feel like talking. So, instead, he took a deep breath and just nodded, silently praying that Bonnie Gene was right.
With effort, he maintained rigid control over his mind, refusing to allow himself to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t come when he had.
If he’d worked more slowly and arrived an hour later.
There was a definite pain radiating out from his heart. A pain, he was certain, he would have for the rest of his life if Susan didn’t pull through.
“She didn’t look very strong when they took her into the O.R.” Until he heard his own voice, he wasn’t even aware of saying the words out loud.
Bonnie Gene pressed her lips together, pushing back an unexpected sob.
“That’s my Susan, soft on the outside, tough on the inside. You’re not giving her enough credit,” she told Duke. “But you’ll learn.”
The woman said that as if she believed that he and her daughter would be together for a long time, Duke noted. Bonnie Gene had more confidence in the future than he did, he thought sadly.
The next moment, the O.R. doors swung open, startling all three of them. It was hard to say who pounced on the surgeon first, Bonnie Gene, Donald or Duke.
But Duke was the first who made a verbal demand. “Well?”
Untying the top strings of his mask and letting it dangle about his neck, Dr. Masters offered the trio a triumphant, if somewhat weary smile.
“It went well. She’s a tough one, luckily,” he declared.
“I told you,” Bonnie Gene said to Duke. She almost hit his shoulder exuberantly, stopping herself just in time, remembering that McWilliams had sliced him there and he’d had to have it treated and bandaged.
Duke wasn’t listening to Bonnie Gene. His attention was completely focused on the surgeon. “Will she be all right?”
Masters looked a bit mystified as he continued filling them in. “Yes. Miraculously enough, none of her vital organs were hit. Don’t know how that happened, but she is an extremely lucky young woman.” He looked at the trio, glad to be the bearer of good news. “You can see her in a little while. She’s resting comfortably right now, still asleep,” he added. “A nurse will be out to get you once she’s awake.”
Duke didn’t want to wait until Susan was awake. He just wanted to sit and look at her, to reassure himself that she was breathing. And that she would go on breathing. He slipped away from Susan’s parents and went in search of her.
He slipped into Susan’s room very quietly, easing the door closed behind him.
She did look as if she was sleeping, he thought. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to push a strand of hair away from her face and just let his fingertips trail along her cheek.
She was alive. Susan was alive. She’d come close to death today, but she was still here. Still alive. Still his.
He let out a long, deep breath that had all but clogged his lungs. He never wanted to have to go through anything like that again.
Seizing one of the two chairs in the room, he brought it over to her bed, sat down and proceeded to wait for Susan to wake up.
He didn't care how long it took, he just wanted to be there when she opened her eyes.
Chapter 16
Consciousness came slowly, by long, painfully disjointed degrees. Throughout the overly prolonged process, Susan felt strangely lightheaded, almost disembodied, as if she was floating through space without having her body weighing her down.
Was this what death felt like?
Was she dead?
She didn’t think so, but the last thing she remembered was Duke carrying her to the car—her mother’s car—and she was bleeding. Bleeding a lot and feeling weaker and weaker.
After that, everything was a blank.
Was heaven blank?
Struggling, Susan tried to push her eyelids up so that she could look around and find out where she was. But she felt as if her eyelids had been glued down. Not only that, but someone had put anvils on each of them for good measure. Otherwise, why couldn’t she raise them at will?
She was determined to open her eyes.
Something told her that if she didn’t open them, she was going to fade away until there was nothing left of her but dust. Dust that would be blown off to another universe.
She liked this universe.
This universe had her parents in it. And her siblings.
And Duke.
Duke.
Duke had saved her. Did that mean that he loved her? Whether he loved her or not, she didn’t want to leave Duke, not ever.
With a noise that was half a grunt, half a whimper, she concentrated exclusively on pushing her eyelids up until she finally did it.
She could see.
And what she saw was Duke.
Duke was standing over her, looking worn and worried. More worried than she remembered ever seeing him. His left arm was in a sling, but he was holding her hand with his right hand.
He didn’t believe in public displays of affection, she thought. But he was holding her hand. In a public place.
Was she dead?
“Duke?” she said hoarsely.
He’d never cried. Not once, in all his thirty-five years. Not when Damien was convicted of murder and they had taken him out of the courtroom in chains. Not even when that horse had thrown him when he was ten and had come damn near close to stomping him to death, only his father had jumped into the corral and dragged him to safety at the last minute, cursing his “brainless hide” all the way.
He hadn’t cried then.
But he felt like crying now. Crying tears of relief to release the huge amount of tension that he felt throbbing all through him.
She was alive.
“Right here,” he told Susan, his reply barely audible. Any louder and she’d be able to hear the tears in his throat.
“I know…I can…see…you,” she answered, each word requiring a huge effort just to emerge. Her hand tightened urgently on his. “Charlene’s…husband…tried to…kill…me.”
“He won’t hurt you any more,” Duke swore. Not even if I have to kill him with my bare hands, he promised silently.
“He…didn’t want to…hurt…me, he…wanted to…hurt…you,” she told Duke, then rested for a second, the effort to talk temporarily draining her.
“Hurt me?” Duke echoed incredulously. Was she still a little muddled, reacting to the anesthetic? She’d been the one to receive all the blows, he thought angrily. Again he promised himself that if by some miracle, Hank McWilliams was ever released from prison, he was going to kill the man. Slowly and painfully, to make him pay for what he’d done to Susan. And even then it wouldn’t be enough.
“Yes… By hurting…someone you…loved,” she told him. A weak smile creased her lips. “I…guess…he…wasn’t…very…smart.”
Duke realized what she was saying. That McWilliams had made a mistake. But the man hadn’t. McWilliams had guessed correctly. “No, I guess he’s smarter than he looks,” he told her pointedly.
Susan’s eyes widened. The words were still measured, but were now less labored coming out. “That…would mean…that…you—”
“Love you,” he finished the sentence for her. And then he smiled. “Yes, it would. And yes, I do.”
This had been the hardest thing he had ever had to say. But today had taught him that not saying this would have taken an even heavier toll on him. Because he would have carried the weight of this lost opportunity around with him for the rest of his life.
Susan passed her hand over her forehead. She was back to wondering if she had indeed died. At the very least, “I…must be…hallucinating.”
He smiled. “No, you’re not. I’ll say it again. I love you.”
It was a tad easier the second time, he thought. But not by much. If he was going to say it the way he felt it, it was going to take practice. Lots and lots of practice.
“Maybe I’m…not…hallucinating,” she allowed slowly. “Maybe this…is a dream…and if it is…I just won’t…let…myself…wake up.” Because hearing Duke say he loved her made her supremely happy and ready to take on the whole world—in small increments. “So, if that’s…the case…if I’m…asleep…then I don’t…have to worry…about sounding…like an idiot…when I…tell you…that I…love you.”
“You wouldn’t sound like an idiot. You don’t sound like an idiot,” he assured her softly.
So this was how it felt.
Love.
Exciting and peaceful at the same time. Duke grinned to himself. Who knew?
“Ask her to marry you already.” Bonnie Gene’s disembodied voice ordered impatiently from the hallway. She’d gone to fetch them both coffee and arrived back in time for this exchange. She’d been waiting outside the door for the last ten minutes. “I can’t stand outside this door much longer.”
Duke laughed, shaking his head. These Kelleys were a hell of a lively bunch. They were going to take some getting used to. In a way, he had to admit he was looking forward to it.
“So don’t stand outside the door any longer. Come on in, Bonnie Gene,” he urged.
The next moment, Susan’s mother, carrying two containers of coffee, one in each hand, eased the door open with her back and came into the room.
“The heat of the coffee was starting to come through the containers,” she informed them with a sniff, putting both coffees down on the small table. “I felt like I was standing outside in the hall forever, waiting for you to get around to the important part.”
“And what makes you think I was going to get around to the ‘important part’?” he asked, wondering if he should be annoyed at the invasion of his privacy, or amused that the woman just assumed that everything was her business. He went with the latter.
Colton by Marriage Page 16
