Commanding Casey

by Nicolina Martin

  “Good luck up there,” I say and disconnect. The relief that floods me surprises me. It’s as if the thick air is suddenly easier to breathe; despite the stench of exhaust it feels crisp and new.

  I get the car that I rented, start up the GPS, and tap the address to a hotel that lies within walking distance from where Casey lives. I can’t exactly assume she’ll give me a bed. On the contrary, I suspect she’ll show me the door to the tune of a thousand curses.

  She’s stubborn, but I’m persistent, and I know which buttons to push. I just need to remind her of what she wants.

  Finding her wasn’t hard at all. Keagan. Racing. Daytona. Check. Her and her dad’s business is advertised everywhere. I’m impressed, but why am I surprised at all? Her choosing to work at the pipeline was a badass move few women would undertake. She’s strong, proud, skilled, and so soft, warm, clever, curious, and cocky.

  I’m so fucking infatuated by her that I don’t recognize myself anymore, and I just need to make this right.

  After checking in, I take a shower. I’m hot and horny, and excited as all hell at the thought of seeing her again. I wonder how she’s been, what she’s been doing with herself. It’s good that she could move back home, but a selfish part of me can’t help thinking that I wouldn’t have minded if she’d have needed to keep running. Say... to LA, for instance. To someone who could care for her, someone she’d trust her innermost secrets to.

  And yeah, trust. Not me, then. Because I’m a fuck-up. She set me on the path to redemption. She’s the sole reason I have reconnected with my kids, that I have a chance at life again. She believed in me when no one else did, and tonight I’ll show her that she wasn’t wrong. I don’t care what it takes.

  I drive past the garage where she works with her dad, and then the famous Daytona racetrack, needing to pass the time. It’s midafternoon on a workday, and I don’t expect her to be home until much later. I drive to the beach instead, fighting off the urge to just walk inside that garage, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her off. That’s not the way to win a girl back.

  Or so they say.

  It might be just the way to win Casey back. Guess I have my plan B.

  * * *

  Casey

  I have an old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. It took four men to get it up here and Dad and I had to re-enamel it to get it back to its intended brilliance. Pouring a hot bath, I bring a plush bathrobe and shed my jeans and T-shirt. The Stones are playing ‘Jumping Jack Flash’ on my stereo in the living room and the music lightens my mood a little bit. It felt good, talking to Gregory, as if I got some kind of closure. Putting the gun within reach, I sink into the steaming hot water. I fight to get my life back, but fate keeps throwing rocks in my path. As if it wasn’t enough that I will miss Cole acutely for the rest of my life, I also need to live in constant fear that Alex will show up again. I didn’t ask for any of this. I had begun looking for that special someone, and look where it got me. It brought nothing but pain.

  Thinking about Alaska again reminds me that I still have to talk to Grandma about my dreams, about the tribe, but she’s sliding into the fog of dementia and I have yet to catch her on a good day.

  I sink deeper and close my eyes, letting my arms float, weightless. I miss a touch, rough hands, my butt burning, a gravelly voice, soft brown eyes. Oh, God, I miss him so fucking much. Losing myself in memories, I have no idea how much time passes, but I finally twitch to life as the water has begun to cool off.

  Stepping out of the bathtub, I wipe off the worst, pull on my robe, and wrap the towel around my head. I look down at my bare feet and realize I forgot the slippers in my bedroom. I push open the bathroom door, a cloud of mist following me. My eyes fall on a pair of feet and jeans-clad legs, I raise my gaze and cry out as I stare at the face of Alex Trey. He cocks his head and opens his mouth as if to speak, but I throw myself backward, into the bathroom, trying to get the door closed. His foot sneaks in and stops it before I can slam it shut.

  “Casey!” he roars.

  “No!”

  I hold the door handle as I try to reach for my gun, but it’s too far away and when Alex pulls the door open I lose my grip and my balance, falling on my butt. Scrambling back, I feel for the stool, for the gun, my fingers frantically patting behind me.

  He steps in, slowly, as if he owns this space, as if he has all the time in the world. Then his eyes dart up. He takes a long stride past me, and I don’t have to look to know I’ve lost.

  “A gun, Casey? A gun?” He weighs it in his palm, takes it in the other hand and turns it over. “What were you going to use this for?”

  I shoot away from him, aiming for the doorway and scream as his hand strikes out and grips my hair. My bathrobe slides open, and I fight to keep it closed with one hand as the other clutches his fingers in my hair, trying to get loose.

  “Alex, please!”

  “Please? Please? What were you gonna use a fucking gun for? Me, Casey? Me?”

  The pain in my scalp is unbearable. It feels as if he’s trying to rip my hair out. “No, I—”

  “No? Really? Your first fucking instinct when you saw me was to get the gun. Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

  “I’m not! I-I thought you were someone else.”

  “Mm-hmm?” He crouches and pulls me up on my knees. Tears stream down my face as I fight to get loose. My eyes are trained on the gun. If I could just get loose and take it from him. Alex holds it up before me. “You want this? Do you even know how to use it? Would you shoot someone in cold blood? Do you know what a bullet does to a chest? Could you live with that, Casey?”

  Looking into his slightly bloodshot blue eyes, I’m thinking of seeing the light go out in them. I remember the dead in Alaska, the torn-off limbs, and nausea rises in me. “Please, let me go. I... I can’t...”

  Alex stands and puts the gun to my forehead. “You can’t. I know. Because you’re good, and kind, and young, and so fucking innocent. You know what pulled me to you?” He presses the gun harder, the cold metal hurting as it digs into my skin.

  My mind spins, I can’t breathe, it’s as if hands squeeze my throat, as if ropes tighten around my chest with every stutter of my heart against my ribcage. I shake my head, pleading to every God that has ever been worshipped by mankind, to the giant hawk I dreamt of. Please take me away from here.

  “You made me so fucking horny, Casey. The awkward little girl, so fucking innocent, so new to everything, straight outta Papa’s garage. I had to have you, every little piece of you.”

  “You’re sick,” I whisper, then I scream as he slaps me, throws the gun out of reach and grabs my hair again. I watch the gun slide over the tiled floor. It bounces and flies out the door, out of sight.

  “You,” he snarls, “have no fucking respect!”

  “You don’t deserve my respect,” I cry.

  Alex pulls me by my hair toward the bathtub. “I’ll give you some incentive to think of that last statement, baby.” Clutching my hair even tighter, he pulls me up, and then pushes my head under water. I flail and scream, getting water in my nose and mouth.

  He pulls me back up and leans in, his mouth to my ear. “What am I?”

  I gasp and cough and barely hear him but he can go fuck himself. I’ll send his ass back to jail for good after this. He’s on probation and he can’t do this to me!

  “Okay.” He pushes my head under water again. This time I inhale a deep breath before I go down, a little more prepared. There’s no use fighting. He’s much stronger and I’ll waste oxygen, but instinct takes over as my chest begins to tingle with the need to breathe. Finally I kick and scream into the water, bubbles shooting up along my cheeks. As he pulls me back up, I inhale a deep raspy breath, then I cough up soapy, strawberry-tasting bathwater.

  “What am I, Casey? Tell me I’m yours!”

  “Fuck you,” I scream, then I cough violently.

  Alex snickers and pushes me down again. My attempt at inhaling comes too late and I fill my lungs wi
th water. Panic seizes me completely, my every cell crying out with the need to breathe. I cough and then inhale more water. I fight to break free of his grip. I slam at his arms, kick out and try to hit his legs, to no avail. When he pulls me back up, I’m like a ragdoll, my vision flickering, every sound too harsh, my limbs numb.

  He slaps me and turns me over on my side, slamming his fist in my back repeatedly. “Don’t die on me, sweetie. Are you gonna give me what I want?”

  I vomit water and cough. “What do you want?” I finally whisper.

  “I want your complete and utter obedience. I’m taking you with me tonight, because this just won’t do.”

  No! Don’t go with your assaulter. Never go with your assaulter. That’s survival 101.

  “That’ll never happen.”

  “I thought your survival instincts were a little stronger than that, babe.” He pulls me up again, toward the water. I scream. In vain. Who will hear me?

  “Get the fuck away from her!”

  I’m dreaming. I know that voice. It’s as if time freezes.

  Cole?

  Did I die?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cole

  When I knocked on her door and, instead of footsteps and her husky voice asking me who the fuck I am, heard a scream, I slammed open the door and sprinted through her apartment. I ran toward the sounds of splashing water and whimpers, snatched up the gun that lay by my feet and barged into the bathroom.

  A tall blond man with dreads splayed over his shoulders holds Casey, my Casey by the hair. She looks like a drenched cat. Her eyes are wide and frightened, her mouth open like in a wordless scream. I raise the gun and flip off the safety switch.

  “Get the fuck away from her!”

  The guy, I have no doubt that this is the infamous Alex, pulls up Casey as a shield before him. She screams and flails, her hands shooting up to try to ease his hold in her hair.

  “Now, who the fuck is this? Did you go behind my back, you bitch? Did you fuck someone else after you put me behind fucking bars?”

  “No,” she whimpers, the sound of her fear and pain searing through me. “It’s not like that.”

  Alex shakes her and grabs her arm, twisting it behind her back.

  “Let her go. What kind of a fucking pussy are you? Hiding behind a woman? That’s what gets you off? Hurting a girl half your size?”

  “Pathetic? Look who’s hiding behind a gun.”

  I look pointedly at Casey and then back at Alex. Who’s hiding? His lips twist into a sneer and then he darts forward, his arm shooting out, aiming for the gun. I can’t fire without hitting Casey, and instead I battle off the arm, trying to slam the gun against his temple.

  Casey twists and turns, flailing to break free. Slamming her elbow into Alex’s stomach, she then stomps on his feet, screaming at the top of her lungs. She slips on the floor and Alex stumbles with her as she falls to her knees, hitting them much too hard on the white tiles, smearing blood as she drags herself toward me, Alex’s hand still gripping her hair.

  Kicking her hard in the side, making her fall toward me with a cry, he then throws himself at me and grips my gun arm, aiming the gun away from him.

  “Get out of here, Casey,” I roar. If a bullet goes off, if she’s hit, I’ll never forgive myself. She lies curled up, gasping for air, clutching her stomach. I fight with one arm to keep the gun aimed in the direction of Alex. I can’t fucking fire, not with her here. With my other hand, I grab her arm and pull, moving back toward the door, trying to drag her out of harm’s way, all the while keeping my eyes trained on Alex.

  “The little whore is such a good fuck, isn’t she?” he sneers. “But, man, she isn’t worth the fight.”

  I glance at Casey, then back up. Her eyes are bloodshot and tears stream down her cheeks as she mutely shakes her head.

  “Then get the fuck out of here,” I growl. “No one needs to get hurt. Just leave, and leave Casey the fuck alone, or I will find you and I will fucking kill you.”

  Alex’s eyes darken, then he throws himself over me, hanging heavily on my gun arm, slamming an elbow into my face, once, twice. I kick out, jabbing a knee into his midsection as I twist to get him off me. My vision wavers, and something wet trickles into my eyes. The gun sways in all different directions. I roar from the effort. If only Casey had been out of the fucking room.

  “Go!” I shout, as much to Alex as to Casey. My head rocks back when Alex throws a fist in my face. He’s got the upper hand but I can’t fucking lose this. Casey lies in a defenseless bundle by my feet, whimpering, sobbing out loud, and I have very little space to maneuver. He doesn’t care about her though, or about anything. He’s only out to get me, and probably her, and whoever gets in the way won’t matter to him. I dodge a second fist and manage to get a hit in on him, but my fingers scream in protest, being squeezed against the hard metal in the guard, fighting not to fire and despite my efforts, he manages to angle the gun against me. I take yet another hit. I need to wipe the blood out of my eyes, but I have no free hand. A metallic taste fills my mouth and I spit out blood.

  The sound of the shot is deafening in the little room. My chest explodes in pain. For a moment, I think that I can keep fighting, that I have this under control, but then my legs lose the battle and my knees fold. I clutch my chest, blood oozing between my fingers. Casey screams. Alex stands, for a moment frozen, looking between Casey and me. I sag, realizing I’m still clutching the gun in my hand. At the same time as I hit the floor, I raise my hand and pull the trigger. Alex jerks backward, his mouth forming a surprised ‘O,’ then he falls and everything is suddenly dead quiet.

  I fight to stay in the light, fight to keep my eyes open, but my eyelids are so heavy and darkness seeps into the periphery.

  “Cole! No. Cole, stay with me!” Casey scrambles to her knees and puts her hands over mine.

  I try to tell her everything’s going to be okay, but I can’t form the words, and honestly, I don’t think I will be all right.

  Alicia’s and Sage’s faces appear before me and I want to scream at the injustice.

  But I had to come, and I can’t regret saving Casey’s life.

  * * *

  Casey

  “Cole!”

  I forget everything. I forget that I’m half-naked, cold and wet, and that I nearly died a few minutes ago. A high-pitched noise rings in my head; the sound of the shot felt as if it thrashed my eardrums. My heart slams in my chest as I scramble to find the entrance wound. The hair on my nape rises at the sight. A little to the right of his chest bone. Not good. Not good at all. Blood pours on the white tiles under him and I try to remember where I put my phone.

  “Don’t go,” I cry. “Stay awake, you fucker! Don’t leave me.”

  My every sense is tuned to him as I stumble out of the bathroom, my gaze darting around my apartment to find the fucking phone. Finding it on the living room table, I snatch it up with violently trembling hands and dial 911.

  I run back to Cole. His eyes have rolled back, showing only whites. His breaths are shallow and rapid.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  I scream. I scream out my address, that he’s shot, that there’s blood everywhere, that he’s dying.

  “Stay with me,” I cry. “What do I do? Help me!”

  She talks and talks, asks about active shooter.

  I stare at the heap of flesh in the shape of Alex Trey, unmoving on my living room floor. “He’s dead! He’s dead! Help us, for fuck’s sake!” I push my hands against the wound. Cole is pale, unresponsive. I shake him. He doesn’t move. “Cole! He’s not moving,” I shriek.

  “Ambulance has arrived on the address, but they can’t find a house—”

  “It’s the garage,” I cry. “I live on top of the garage! The door is open. You have to come now!”

  I fight to feel his pulse. There is nothing. I put my ear against his chest that is slick with blood. Nothing.

  “Don’t go!” I throw the phone to the side an
d heave myself over him, putting my hands over each other and compress. Blood. So much blood.

  “I’ll never forgive you if you leave me.”

  A hand on my shoulder. Feet. Everywhere. Bags being opened on the floor next to me. “We’ll take it from here.”

  I scramble back as the paramedics take over, putting pads on Cole’s chest and needles in his arms. There are syringes and bags of fluids.

  I keep pleading as tears flood my cheeks. Live! Live, goddammit. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  New voices, new feet.

  “Miss?”

  Cops, a whole bunch of them.

  “Let them do their job. Can you tell us what happened?”

  Alex Trey. Alex Trey happened. I stare at his body and the paramedic who kneels by his side, shaking his head as he looks up at one of the cops. I want to scream at them to let him die if there’s any life left in there. He’s evil.

  “I want my mom.” I’m staggering on the edge of a bottomless pit. Down there lies insanity, a never-ending scream that will cry inside me for the rest of my life. “I need my mom,” I whisper.

  They lead me to the couch, but I can’t tear my eyes off the backs of the paramedics who are still working frantically with Cole. I see his dark hair, the rest is behind the wall.

  “Can we help you call your family?”

  I gesture helplessly toward the blood-smeared phone. I can’t remember a single phone number.

  “We’re ready to move him.” One of the paramedics comes out of the bathroom and disappears down the stairs.

  I shoot to my feet. “Is he alive?”

  No one answers. I try to make it past the cop, but he holds me back. “Let them do their job, miss.”

  The paramedic and a cop come back up with a gurney and a couple of minutes later they have tied Cole to it and carries him down the stairs.

  “I have to go with him!”

  The cop almost hugs me as I try to make it past him. “Put on some clothes and we’ll take you there.”

  I stare at him, at the now-empty door opening, hearing an engine come to life and the sound of tires on gravel, then I look down on my half-naked state, blood smeared all over, a bathrobe hanging open. I twitch to action and run to my bedroom, pushing off the robe as I run and toss on pants and a shirt.