Savior (The Kingwood Duet Book 2)

by S. L. Scott

  “Fucking Chad. What the fuck? He killed him. He killed Chad like he would kill me.” I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends this time. Shit. “What about Shelly? His parents? The kid never even held a gun yet he was gunned down with Sara Jane.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “I will,” I reply. “I owe Chad that much.”

  “You don’t owe him anything. You’re not to blame for his death. That fucker is.”

  “But why was he there?”

  Cruise shrugs. “Wrong place. Wrong time.”

  “No, that doesn’t add up. Why would he be with Sara Jane in the middle of nowhere? Why was Sara Jane even there?” Glancing over, I add, “Were they set up?”

  “If they were set up, why them?”

  “The question is, why have they not come after me?” How did they know where she would be?

  Pulling up to the manor, he enters the code and while the gate opens, he replies, “It was you. They just hit when you weren’t looking.”

  “Sara Jane isn’t a cheap shot. She’s their death wish. If they were looking for a fight, they found one.”

  Checking the time, it’s been twenty minutes since I left her. Twenty minutes of her fighting for her life. I need to get back. I need to know how she’s doing. After he parks, my pulse races as I walk to the door, the blood in my veins still pumping. I can feel it. I can feel her inside me. She’s alive. Her pulse courses through me, giving me life. She surrounds me even when we’re not together. “Get an update from Jason. I’m going to shower.”

  Not five minutes later, I’m standing under the shower spray, my head lowered, my eyes closed as the only tears I’ll allow fall to the basin.

  My story.

  My alibi.

  My statement.

  My Sara Jane.

  My girl.

  Her parents. They’re going to be an issue. They’ve watched her change, grow into the woman I knew she could be. She isn’t the sort of girl who would be content to just be some man’s wife, waiting on a man hand and foot. She wouldn’t feel content with a nine-to-five job. She would never be someone’s possession to own.

  No, that’s not Sara Jane.

  She was born to fly. To soar.

  They think they know what is best for her, but I know she needs to live freely and have known that from the moment I first saw her. Her innocence cloaked the woman beneath, the bold and strong woman I knew she would become. They’ll say she ran away from me, but I know the truth. She only ran because she was scared of what she was feeling and experiencing. The change scared her, though she had nothing to fear. That was then.

  This is now.

  I will never be above her, always her equal or beneath.

  She’s mine.

  I’m hers.

  My queen must live.

  2

  Alexander

  Who is he?

  Who is he really?

  Where did he come from?

  What is his story?

  There’s more to Jason Koster than what we know, but he offers little detail. Chad found him as soon as he found where Sara Jane had disappeared to. The perfect operative in the perfect place at the perfect time. A little too perfect. Our fates aligned. He needed money, and I needed someone to watch over my Firefly.

  Jason doesn’t flinch under pressure, and I’ve begun to wonder who we’ve let into our lives. What was he running from? How did he end up in a small town in the middle of nowhere? I watch how he has so purposefully gone through details of “handling the situation” as he and Cruise call it. He says, “New gravel’s already been poured.”

  “The fucker’s car?” asks Cruise.

  “Sold for parts. It will never operate as one vehicle again. The plates have already been melted down.”

  Wondering at one point when life became so insignificant that it’s not even mentioned by them, I ask, “And Chad?” My throat is dry, the loss of one of my best friends beginning to take its toll. I hide my feelings when it comes to him, a skill I’ve perfected over the years. But one thought of Firefly fighting for her life and my shield cracks.

  Jason looks at me. He sits too comfortably, too smug on the couch across from me. There’s something eerie about the way he can hold my stare as if he sees through me. He sees my weakness. He knows what brings me to my knees. We’ve not talked about his time with Sara Jane, but it’s there between us, waiting for one of us to broach the topic. I’m not afraid to go there with him, but now is not the time. He says, “His body was put in the river. We thought it only right that his parents have a body to bury.”

  Cruise looks away, his fists clenching, but he says, “The police will find him by sunrise.”

  My stomach twists as I stare at him, not sure I’m processing what has happened. If any of us deserved better, it was Chad. Shelly needs us. “I need to call Shelly.” Both of them look away from me. “What?”

  “She called me.” Shaking his head, Cruise continues, “I know you wanted to contact her first, but I couldn’t ignore the call. She was looking for Chad and Sara Jane.”

  Jason adds, “She already knew Sara Jane needed help.”

  “That’s why she called me and told me where we could find them,” Cruise adds, standing.

  “So she knew from Chad, but she stayed behind?”

  “Yes. He told her to wait for us to return, but she called me as soon as he left. Worried.”

  “That’s why you told me to follow you. Why didn’t you tell me what happened?”

  “I didn’t know what we were walking into.”

  He knew I’d be worried about Sara Jane. I want to be mad at him. I am deep down, but I get it. He’s right. I wouldn’t have been rational had I known prior, and if Nastas hadn’t already shot them, he would have when we showed up. “I reacted on instinct.”

  Looking around, his eyes settle forward. “This place is huge.” I don’t bother justifying my life to him. He doesn’t say anything else about my quarters, and pulls my gun from the back of his jeans and sets it on the coffee table. It’s almost shining it’s so clean. “I brought your gun back,” Jason says. “It’s good to have a sense of right and wrong.”

  “You’re saying it’s right that I killed that guy?”

  “I’m saying he killed your friend and tried to kill your girlfriend. It’s not wrong in my book.”

  “I know you wanted to wait and talk to Shelly, but it wouldn’t have eased her pain, so I told her Chad is missing and Sara Jane is at the hospital,” Cruise says.

  Jason says, “She’s a good cover. She’ll tell the story she knows, which is nothing. Sara Jane called her, Chad went to help, and she called Cruise. There’s nothing more for her to tell.”

  My eyes dart to his. “Why the fuck was she calling everyone, but me?”

  Jason leans forward on his knees, his eyes steady on me with condemnation. “She tried to call you.”

  “No. She didn’t call me.”

  Standing, I feel around the outside of my pockets. “Where’s my phone?” I run into the bathroom and grab my phone from my jacket pocket. When I see the screen, it shows one missed call. Unknown. Shit. Firefly. “No. No, it didn’t fucking ring.”

  I rush back into living room area of my quarters. “Where were we when it happened?” I ask Cruise. “Why didn’t I get the call? Where the fuck was I?”

  “Down by the docks? There’s no reception there,” he replies.

  I think back to hours ago. Shit. “Fucking nothing. No bars. I had no signal, so I left my phone on the bike.” I throw my phone on the bed and turn my back to them. With my hands over my face, I hold back the raging tears that want to surface. I could have saved her. I could have saved Chad. “Fucking hell, this is all my fault.” My breath becomes harsh, every exhale tainted with guilt and every inhale a sharp pain. I turn around and ask, “She called Chad for help because I didn’t fucking answer?”

  Jason sits on the arm of the couch like we’re fucking hanging out, watching fucking football. �
�She was looking for you. Shelly told Cruise she didn’t know where you were, so she told Chad.”

  Cruise picks up where Jason leaves off. “They knew something was wrong, so Chad tracked the unknown number and the location and found her.”

  Grabbing the gun, I take it into my closet and hide it behind a box of baseball cards I collected as a kid. I grab a clean jacket from my closet and look to Jason as I slip it on. “Why were you there?”

  “I was doing the job I was paid to do. She left town, and I knew it was for good, so I followed her back. Just like you told me to.”

  My shoulders stiffen, his demeanor borders on agitated. What’s his stake in this? “You always checked in with Chad before. Why not this time if she was coming back?”

  “I thought she had a right to do things her way.”

  “I don’t pay you to think.” He shrugs. I know I shouldn’t be so fucking angry at him, but I can’t work out this link. Him? Nastas?

  “But how did Nastas know where she’d be? Who else knew where she was? That she was on her way home?” At that, he looks even angrier.

  “Fuck if I know, King,” he growls. “I have the fucker’s phone. If I find anything on it that gives us answers, I’ll let you know.”

  Walking to the door, he says, “You should get back to the hospital. You need to find out if she’s okay. The police will be suspicious if we all just walk in there at this point.”

  My eyes narrow, and I stop beating around the bush. I want to know what this fucker’s end game is. “Why do you care? What’s in it for you?”

  “She and I are friends. I’m not trying to be insensitive, King, but I care if Alice . . . Sara Jane lives.”

  His asshole front slips for just a moment, messing with my head. On some weird base level, I see it. We’re the same. “You care about her.” Not a question, but a realization.

  He shifts, putting his back to me and walking into the hall. “Of course I do. Like I said, we’re friends.”

  I follow him with Cruise behind me. “You sure that’s all you are, Jason? Or is it Eric?”

  Stopping, he stills with his back to me. I see the rise and fall in his shoulders, his anger building. When he turns back, his arms are crossed defensively over his chest. I study him and everything that will give his truth away if the words don’t when he says, “I’m sure. You accusing me of more, King?”

  Cruise steps in between just as I step forward, and says, “This won’t do Sara Jane any good. We should go.”

  Focusing back on him, I ask, “I haven’t received a call, so that’s good.”

  Jason replies, “Yes, but you should be there just in case.”

  Something different, less suspicious, maybe honesty, lies in his tone that makes me believe he could be telling the truth. “Let’s go.”

  On the drive back, I catch glimpses of Jason in the side mirror since he’s sitting behind me. Why is he here? What does he want?

  Jason Koster has a story, and from my experiences in life, it’s one that’s driven by something dark. I don’t know what he was escaping in that small town where we found him, but clearly he doesn’t want it to catch up to him. That much is evident. I’m not sure who I put on my payroll, but right now, I’m glad I did. If for no other reason, he was quick in hiding evidence from the attack on Sara Jane and Chad. He took care of bodies and got rid of Nastas’s car. How did he even know how to do all that? I’m not sure I want to ask for fear of what his answer might be. He may be breeding vengeance against the world, but he also took care of Firefly when I couldn’t. I look back once more. “Thank you.”

  “Just let me know how she is.”

  I nod when I should hesitate. Once I asked him to keep tabs on her, Sara Jane affected his life too. If anyone can understand her appeal, it’s me. She draws people into her light with one little smile. “I will.” I turn to Cruise. “Don’t wait for me. I’m staying as long as I have to.”

  “You got your story straight?”

  “She’d been gone for months. Shelly heard from her so we went to look for her. We saw her car, we found her on . . .” Terror strikes my chest like lightning when the memory of her lying there flashes through my mind. I exhale and shake my head, trying to free the nightmare image. “I grabbed her, and we rushed to the hospital.”

  Jason adds, “We left her car there. They’ll search it for evidence. They won’t find anything beyond the vehicle, except her blood.”

  Staring straight ahead. I try to overlook his matter-of-fact tone. How can he be so clinical? So detached? That’s my fucking soul bleeding from her body, but he doesn’t understand the depth of my love for her. No one does.

  I thought the last three months were painful. Those were nothing compared to the chance of losing her forever. Visions of her body—limp and pale—bloody, lying on that dirt and gravel . . . I close my eyes, my fists tight. Cruise pulls up to the hospital, and I take a deep breath and breathe out slowly. Please God, let her live.

  The car stops, and I get out, slamming the door behind me, and rush inside. As soon as I cross the threshold, two police officers are talking to a nurse. Looking away, I keep walking to the nurses station just beyond them. Pressing my abdomen to the counter, I ask, “Any word on Sara Jane Grayson?”

  I don’t recognize the nurse. She’s not the same one from earlier. “Your name, sir?”

  “Alexander Kingwood.”

  She types on the keyboard in front of her, then glances back to me. “She’s not out of surgery yet. Her family has received one update.”

  “Her family?”

  “Yes, they’re in the waiting room.”

  “What was the update?”

  “You’re the one who brought her in, right?”

  “Yes.”

  A kind smile appears. “She’s been stabilized, but she’s not out of surgery yet.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I turn toward the waiting room and her parents, my heart racing already.

  The nurse adds, “Hold on to hope. She’ll pull through.”

  She will pull through. Please, God, let her pull through.

  The irony that I’m praying to the same God that took my mother isn’t lost on me. I can’t think about that. Something more powerful than this existence has to be pulling the strings of fate. I’ll pray on bended knee to whoever that may be as long as Firefly’s safe.

  What I won’t do is be cut out of her life. If I have to take on her parents, so be it. I start walking. Her dad stands when he sees me. We’ve not gotten along in the past, but I’m staying in this hospital as long as Sara Jane is here.

  David Grayson has more gray hair since I last saw him. The stress of saving his dental practice runs through the lines carved into his face. He’s still too tan for someone who allegedly works all the time, but I’m not supposed to judge his golfing habits. Standing in golf attire, I wonder if he finished the round or cut out early when he heard his daughter’s life was on the line. We’re not coming together as friends, and I need to remember what Firefly always told me. “Hold your temper.” I hear her sweet voice reminding me.

  It’s been about two years since I saw her parents. The incident that led to the final rift in our relationship was minor. He was upset. I was cocky. I only let him get in one punch. I didn’t care who the fuck he thought he was. None of his demands persuaded me to leave Sara Jane then, and if he still thinks I will walk away willingly now, he’s a fool.

  I hold my breath, trying to calm the agitation I feel from seeing him, but I’m intercepted. The two cops step up to me and put their hands out, blocking my path. The taller one, one not much older than I am and barely eye level, asks, “Alexander Kingwood?”

  Just over his shoulder, I see her father crossing his arms over his chest with a smug grin on his face. Eyeing the cops, I reply, “The Fourth.”

  “We need to talk. Outside.”

  3

  Alexander

  I’m led out the doors and look to
my right. Cruise isn’t around, which is good, but I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to hide what I’ve done. We walk about fifteen feet and stop. I cross my arms over my chest and ask, “What’s this about?”

  “We need your statement. I’m Officer Langley,” the taller officer says.

  “I want to wait for word on my—”

  “Usually when someone walks in with a gunshot victim, we tend to want to know how they got shot. I’m sure you can understand this,” the moodier short cop says.

  “My mother was murdered, so I understand how the process works, but I’m curious if the police were this diligent with her case.”

  Langley sighs. “I’m sorry about your mother. We saw the case was never solved. It was a high-profile case—”

  “That the cops stopped caring about,” I say. “I need to go inside. I want to be there if they come out with any news.”

  “We won’t take long,” Langley says. “We’ll take a quick statement and then you can come down to the station if we need more.” With a pencil and small pad in hand, he starts into his questioning. “How do you know the victim?”

  “She’s my gir—” I don’t know why I do it other than I wish she was. “She’s my wife.”

  Their eyes land heavy on me with that slip as they search for the lie they’ve already convinced themselves they’ll find. I refuse to give them anything more than I want them to know. Brown cuts to the chase. “How was Ms. Grayson—”

  “Kingwood.”

  If a glare could be classified as a felony, Brown just committed a crime against me. “Kingwood?” he questions as if he’s not onboard with the correction.

  Fuck him. I can play this game all fucking night. “Yes. Kingwood.”

  “How was Mrs. Kingwood shot?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” I look right into his beady eyes, but the ache of my soul fighting for life grips my heart like a vise, causing me to close my eyes. I rub the bridge of my nose and exhale quietly before I look up. They’re staring, but I don’t care. I can’t stop the emotion wavering through my voice when I add, “She’s the reason I breathe, the reason I wake up in the morning. She’s everything that matters in my life. I can’t lose her.”