Frostbite (BearPaw Resort Book 3)

by Cambria Hebert

  “I will cut that kid right out of you, you bitch.” He snarled, pushing the knife a little harder against me.

  I tried to twist away, then cried out in pain. “Ow!” I yelped.

  Instantly, I looked down, reaching for my stomach and the small slice he’d made through my shirt and against my skin.

  Rage unlike anything I’d ever known before lashed through me. I went slack, giving him every ounce of my weight. It was hard to let my head fall forward, but I did, wanting him to think I’d passed out.

  “Fuck,” he spat. “Damn women. My baby, my baby.” He mocked.

  My heart was literally tearing its way out of my chest. It hurt so much that I didn’t even breathe. My hands shook so violently I was scared they wouldn’t work when I needed them to.

  He dragged me near the sink and laid me on the floor. The urge to curl into a fetal position to protect myself until help arrived called to me, but again, I resisted. The knife that I’d put in his shoulder was lying half under the island, its bloody blade sticking out like a savior.

  He straightened with a grunt, and I watched him reach for a towel, the towel my mother gave me, to press against his wound. I felt him move toward me, so I shut my eyes and went slack.

  “Killing you is going to be a pleasure.”

  He glanced away, and I seized the moment. The blade cut my skin when I grabbed it and went for the handle. Since the man was standing over me, his feet were in perfect range. Using everything in me, I rose onto my knees and plunged the knife down through his boot and into his foot.

  His scream was one that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

  His back arched, and he buckled. The keening sounds he made echoed into the stainless sink where he fell.

  I scrambled back and watched as he tried to lift his foot and come forward.

  He couldn’t. I’d pinned him right to the floor.

  “That was for my baby, you nasty son of a bitch!” I screamed and lurched up. Wrapping an arm around my middle, I ran forward, fully intending to escape this time.

  I almost made it.

  My long, flowing hair that Liam loved so much was like a billowing curtain that the man was able to grab and yank me back.

  “When that husband of yours comes home tonight, he’s going to find pieces of you scattered all over this kitchen,” he vowed. “But first, perhaps I’ll cut out that kid and lay him on the island like some kind of sick Thanksgiving turkey.”

  A sob ripped out of me. Dear God. That was the most heinous thing anyone had ever said!

  I kicked him, and he grunted but didn’t let go. The timer on the oven started going off, reminding me the bread was done.

  “Looks like dinner’s ready. But you won’t be alive to eat it.”

  I tried to lunge off again, but he pulled me back, making it feel like the hair on my head would come out at any second.

  Another horrible, grinding sound went off through the kitchen.

  I jerked around, the twisting motion causing more pain in my scalp, but I pushed it away. He was standing there maniacally staring down into the sink, in the direction of the noise.

  The garbage disposal.

  Oh shit, he’d flipped the switch to the disposal.

  My eyes widened in pure horror when he palmed the back of my head and shoved my face into the sink. The scent of the disposal rushed up and hit me in the face. The grinding sound of blades against blades made chills break out over my entire body.

  Even as I panicked about being somehow cut up by that… death trap, I shoved backward, trying not to put all my weight on the baby as he forced me over the sink.

  “No!” I begged. “No…”

  He laughed and shoved me closer. My long hair fell over my face and around me, reaching into the sink like dead octopus arms.

  “Shall we start with a hand before we move to anything else?”

  The hole of the disposal was so close I could almost touch my nose to the rim. In one last desperate attempt, I lifted my foot and stomped down.

  Thankfully, I hit my mark, forcing the knife a little bit farther through the man’s foot.

  He roared and let go.

  I lunged away but then felt pain that threatened to rip my skull in half. “Aghhh!” I screamed and reached around to see what was happening.

  My hair!

  My hair was caught in the disposal, winding tighter and tighter around the blades! Even as I realized it, I was pulled in, closer and closer to the sink.

  The man choked out a laugh because he didn’t even have to hold me anymore. I was trapped.

  I tried to run off, to pull my hair free. All I got for it was severe pain. A warm sensation trickled over my head, and I fell against the counter. My head was bleeding.

  I grabbed the length of my hair with both hands and tried to take the pressure off my scalp while at the same time backing away from the man as much as I could.

  He reached out a bloodied hand and wrapped it around my neck. Bending me backward over the sink, he squeezed, choking me.

  I slapped at him, tried prying away his hands, but it was no use. My strength didn’t match his, and my hands were slick with blood from the two cuts I had.

  I started to wheeze as my mind scrambled for another way.

  I thought of my unborn son, my brand-new husband… After everything, was this how it ended?

  After all the fighting I’d done, I was going to die anyway.

  Liam

  The sound of a grinding motor, a spastic dog, and the beeping oven slammed into me when I burst open the downstairs door.

  I didn’t say anything, just ran full speed across the room and took the stairs three at a time.

  Rushing into the kitchen, I took in a scene that could belong to a cult-favorite horror flick.

  A huge bleeding man was bent over Bellamy, who he was holding into the sink while he slowly choked the life out of her.

  I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t even think.

  With a roar, I lunged into the room, grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and pulled him off my girl. He made a surprised sound as I yanked, and then a crippling yell. I didn’t care or pause. I kept pulling, slamming his back onto the island and dragging him across it. Everything in our path scattered and flew as he skittered over the top and I flung him off the end.

  He hit head first into a bank of cabinets, landed on his stomach, and barely moved. I noted the large wound in his back, so I stomped on it with my boot, and he jerked in pain.

  I glanced around me to Bellamy, who was still scrambling away from the sink. She was caught somehow, struggling to get free.

  Blood smeared all over her, hair wild, and her eyes… Holy shit, her eyes were dilated so much they were almost black.

  “Bells,” I said, starting forward.

  “Watch out!” she shrieked, focusing behind me.

  I spun and kicked the man, who was rushing me, in the center of his chest. He fell back, but it wasn’t enough. I went forward and rained blows upon him until his body turned to jelly beneath mine. I hit him still.

  Blood coated his face, and his head lolled to the side, but all I saw was the image of him strangling Bellamy and the blood all over her hands.

  I was going to kill him.

  “Liam,” Bellamy said from somewhere close by. “Liam!” she yelled, snapping me out of it.

  I stopped and turned. Bellamy stood just behind me, her hair kind of hacked off at uneven angles, blood on her face, hands, and smeared on her shirt.

  I glanced over her body, my eyes stopping on her stomach, on the tear in her shirt and the blood trickling out the side.

  “Is that…?” I intoned, pointing.

  Her hand covered the tear, and her face fell. “He tried to hurt the baby,” she whimpered.

  A beastly roar filled the kitchen as I spun, lifted the passed-out man by the front of his shirt, and dragged him over to the sink.

  I tossed his body over the side and grabbed his hand.

  Hi
s eyelids started to flutter, and I pushed my face close to his. “You threaten my kid?” I asked, utterly calm and low.

  His eyes popped open, and he tried to scramble away.

  I laughed.

  “Did you come into my house, attack my wife, and then try to hurt my son?”

  “I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

  I shoved his hand into the still-running garbage disposal. The sound of flesh grinding coupled with his shout of pain fueled my anger. I pushed his arm inside farther.

  “Please, staaahp!” he begged, gurgling.

  Blood splattered around the inside of the sink. I liked the sight of his blood far better than the sight of my wife’s.

  “This is nothing,” I said, leaning into his ear. “This is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you. You come after my family… and I’ll rip you apart.”

  “Crone sent me!” he wailed, his body beginning to jerk as though he were having some kind of seizure. I didn’t feel bad for him.

  I felt nothing in that moment but insane anger and the bitter bite of frost.

  “Perry Crone sent me to kill her. He hates you!”

  The garbage disposal shut off, making a horrible choked sound. I glanced around at Bellamy, who was pale and wobbly on her feet. “The police are here,” she whispered, swaying.

  I let go of the asshole and reached for her, scooping her against my chest and hunching around her.

  Behind us, the man slumped to the floor, his hand mangled and half missing.

  I carried her to the top of the steps, and the door was forced in. Police with drawn weapons surged into the house, and Bellamy’s head fell against my shoulder.

  “I need a medic!” I bellowed. “Now!”

  The EMTs rushed past the police officers, and I carried Bellamy over to the couch where they could look her over.

  “She’s twenty-three weeks pregnant,” I told them. “He tried to stab her stomach, and it looks like he stabbed her hands.”

  “No, I grabbed the knives,” Bellamy said, coherent.

  Oh. She grabbed the knives. Rage flushed over me again, and I wanted to race back into the kitchen and inflict some more damage.

  “Liam,” she said as the paramedics basically rushed her.

  “I’m right here.” I promised, glancing behind me as the cops filled the kitchen.

  “Jesus,” one of them spat, and another started to hurl.

  I turned back to Bells. “How are you? How’s the baby? How bad are you hurt?”

  “We’re going to be fine. We’re all fine.” It was more like a mantra she was saying to reassure herself.

  “What the hell happened here, Mattison?” the chief of police yelled, barging through the door.

  I pulled out my cell and dialed Frost. When he answered, I said, “You better get here. Now. Crone sent someone to kill Bellamy again, and you will want to get his confession before he bleeds out.”

  “Bleeds out? Jesus, Mattison, I told you to let me do my job!”

  “You weren’t fast enough.”

  “Where are you?” he asked briskly. I could tell he was already on the move.

  “My mom’s place.”

  “She needs to be moved to the hospital,” the EMT said, standing.

  All that numbness I felt when I was grinding up asshat in there? It all went away, and the brutal sting of too much emotion nearly took my breath.

  “Mattison,” Frost yelled in my ear.

  “We’ll be at the hospital,” I said, then disconnected the call.

  “I need a stretcher,” the one EMT said to the other.

  Bellamy looked at me with panic and exhaustion in her eyes. I went forward and gently lifted her into my arms. “Where to?” I said.

  They looked as if they were about to object, but I gave them a look.

  “This way,” one of them replied and led us out of the house.

  The sound of Charlie barking and growling erratically made me look back.

  “Charlie!” Bellamy cried, hearing him.

  As I was lifting her into the ambulance, the dog leapt up and sat beside where she lay, gently laying his large head on her belly. He was protecting her. Her and my son.

  “No dogs,” the EMT said.

  I turned and glared at him.

  “Just this once,” he muttered.

  Sirens blazing, the ambulance drove away, leaving behind a busted house, crowds of police, and a half-dead killer on the kitchen floor.

  Bellamy

  The baby was healthy. Of this we were absolutely sure.

  Liam stood over me at the hospital like a WWE wrestler (the kind that was super grouchy) and pretty much scared everyone that came in the room to look at me.

  At one point, one of the doctors suggested we have the officer outside my room come inside.

  Not for our protection.

  No.

  For the protection of the staff.

  Needless to say, I had an ultrasound (yes, Liam took all the pictures and then demanded more), a panel of blood drawn, an IV, and I was still currently hooked up to a monitor so they could keep a close watch on the baby overnight.

  Yep, I got to spend the night.

  I guess being the wife of an Olympic medalist with crazy eyes had its perks.

  Um. Not.

  Regardless, I was happy that my little boy was getting all the care and attention he deserved. I would spend a thousand nights in this hospital if it would make sure he was safe.

  Knowing he was okay made everything else easier to bear. Like the twelve stitches in my hand. The four stitches in my head. The bandage covering the cut on my stomach, which was the most minor injury I had but the most traumatizing.

  And then there was my hair.

  “I look like someone took a weed whacker to my head!” I wailed when Liam finally helped me into the bathroom and I glanced in the mirror.

  “Your face is still real pretty.” Liam consoled me.

  How rude!

  “I can’t even do anything with it until these stitches come out!” I said, reaching up to tenderly finger near them. When Liam was beating the crap out of the criminal, I was so desperate to get free, I got a pair of scissors out of the drawer and cut off the length trapped inside the disposal.

  Needless to say, some of it was still very long, and some of it was… well, not.

  Liam pulled my hand away, gently scolding me. “Don’t touch that.”

  “It hurts.” I pouted.

  “I know, sweetheart,” he said, leaning in to kiss my temple.

  “I have to pee,” I declared.

  He gestured toward the toilet.

  I was horrified. “Get out.”

  “No.”

  “I can’t pee in front of you!”

  He rolled his eyes and turned his back.

  “Liam,” I whined. He seriously wasn’t going to get out? This was absurd!

  He reached over and turned on the faucet, allowing the water to run. Like that made this totally acceptable. This was stupid, but I was genuinely exhausted. I had no energy to argue with him. So I peed, glaring at his back the entire time and sneaking glances at the mirror to make sure he wasn’t watching me through it.

  When I was done, I washed my hands and reached for him. He was there, lifting me and carrying me and the large IV pole attached to me back into the bedroom.

  One of the nurses was waiting patiently and smiled when she saw us. “I knew your bark was worse than your bite,” she said, and I glared at him, just daring him to say something I would want to kick him for.

  Wisely, he didn’t.

  When I was back in bed, she went about strapping the monitor around me again and making sure everything was registering correctly.

  “I’ll be back in a while to check on you,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Liam told her.

  When she was gone, I held out my hand to Liam, and he sat on the edge of the bed, caressing me with his eyes. “You scared the shit out of me tonight, Bells.”


  “It was terrible,” I said, feeling a rush of panic fill me.

  “Shh, shh.” He soothed and scooted farther up on the bed with me. I wanted him closer, but I knew he wouldn’t because of the monitor.

  “Thank God you showed up when you did.”

  “I seriously wanted to kill him,” Liam said darkly.

  “I thought you were going to.” I admitted.

  “I might have if the cops hadn’t showed up when they did, and he started squealing Crone’s name like a pig.”

  “Do you think that matters?” I puzzled. At this point, I didn’t even know.

  “I sure as hell hope so.”

  As if on cue, Agent Frost walked into the room, followed by a few of his agents, the Caribou chief of police, and one of his uniformed officers.

  I sank into the bed a little farther.

  “Can’t this wait?” Liam asked, standing to move between the bed and the men. “She’s been through enough.”

  “It really can’t,” Frost replied.

  “It’s fine,” I said, rallying. “I won’t let him get away with trying to hurt Shaw.”

  “Who’s Shaw?” Frost said, and everyone’s eyes sharpened as though they missed some giant piece of the puzzle.

  “Shaw is my son,” Liam said, gesturing to my belly.

  “Mine, too.” I corrected softly.

  He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Yes, sweetheart, yours, too.”

  “I just came from your house,” Frost said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “That was quite a scene.”

  “Try living through it,” I muttered.

  “I need you to recount everything that happened,” Frost said, and everyone had their notebooks poised and ready.

  I recounted. Twice.

  Both times, Liam paced the floor. After my turn, Liam went. His turn was much faster because he hadn’t been there as long.

  “The man who assaulted you,” Frost said when all the questioning was done, “is in ICU. He was airlifted to a hospital in Denver because of the, ah, limb loss.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking of the horrible grinding blades. Subconsciously, I touched my hair—or what was left of it. Liam brushed a hand gently over my face, and I opened to see him watching me with a frown.

  “Is he going to make it?” I asked.