by Sandy Vaile
Neve reached a hand towards him. “We’ll find her, too, but we have to go right now.”
“I can’t find a key for the window,” Tony said. “We’ll have to go out the front.”
“We could break it,” Neve whispered.
“Too much noise. I’ll have eyes on you.” He sounded so sure; the kind of surety a person could have only after being in a situation where co-reliance was the only option for survival.
She didn’t feel the same way.
Rowan was collecting handfuls of toy soldiers.
Neve grasped one small hand. “Leave the toys. Daddy will buy you new ones.” She tugged the reluctant child towards the door.
“Carry him!” Tony said urgently.
She scooped Rowan’s hot little body into her arms and held him close as they dashed outside. Something caught her eye as she turned sideways, and she stopped dead. Tony was so close behind; his breath was hot on the back of her neck, an arm held out to one side in a protective gesture.
“Mummy!” Rowan called.
Beside the rainwater tank, a woman struggled in the grip of an immense, denim-clad bloke sporting a wild black beard, and stars tattooed up his neck and jaw.
Chelsea!
Neve swallowed. The biker looked solid enough to repel a bullet. Next to him, Chelsea appeared juvenile. Her blonde bob swung beside her horror-stricken face.
Rowan wriggled in Neve’s arms.
Her gaze locked on to the pistol by the biker’s side. It seemed to take a long time for him to raise it and even longer for her to turn her back and run, Rowan cradled in the protective wrap of her arms.
Please let the bullet stop at me.
The report from the pistol sounded. Neve gasped and ducked her head. Metal pinged the shed wall and the sound reverberated from the hillside, but she was around the side now. Micah caught her in his arms as she staggered forward.
“Was that you screaming?” he asked.
“Chelsea.” She gasped for air.
“She’s here?” He grimaced.
“Yes, and Tony needs help.”
Micah’s expression was torn as he stared at his son. Another shot rang out.
“I’ll get Rowan out of here,” she assured him.
This would not be the last glimpse he would have of his son. She’d take care of him. Her own life depended on it.
Chapter 34
Micah kissed Rowan’s head and made for the front of the shed, shaking a can of capsicum spray furiously to charge it. The palpitations in his chest reached a crescendo as he took a deep breath and stuck his head around the corner.
The scene smouldered in his retinas. Tony slid along the ground feet first towards an enormous wall of a man. Spittle sprayed from Chelsea’s mouth as she screamed and struggled.
She’s alive!
Tony’s feet made contact with the rock holding Chelsea and swept his legs from under him. She screamed again and broke free from her captor, staggering towards Micah’s open arms, but the big guy rolled on the ground and grabbed her ankle. She went down hard.
Tony sprang to his feet and dropped an elbow onto the guy’s belly.
“Get her out of here,” he yelled to Micah. “We’re going to have company after all that noise.”
A bloke with a taut beer belly overhanging tatty denim ran around the bushes from the direction of the motorbikes. He had a greasy rag in his hand, his mouth agape as he stood there.
Micah judged the distance between this new threat and Chelsea, who still panted and sobbed on the ground. The bloke’s interest moved towards her.
“No!” Micah fumbled with the capsicum spray, pressed the nozzle, but the biker was out of range.
The bloke reached to the back of his pants and Micah waited for the gun that would end it all. He threw the aerosol can, and the big man automatically raised both hands to fend it off. Too late to avoid Micah’s shin kick, followed by a punch to the nose. The guy stumbled back from the force, bright blood dripping over his lips and down his chin. Just like he’d seen Tony do, Micah bent the guy’s arm backwards and secured his wrists with cable ties.
Chelsea scrambled to her feet, still sobbing.
Boiler appeared beside the rainwater tank. The thug looked just as mean as his mug shots and rap sheet suggested. Tony was busy, so it was up to Micah to save Chelsea. Thank goodness Neve had gotten Rowan safely away.
He took a step.
“I wouldn't do that, mate.” Boiler was still a couple of metres away, but his sawn-off shotgun was aimed steadily at Chelsea’s head.
That kind of firepower wouldn’t miss.
Micah swallowed. "Don't hurt her."
A menacing grin stretched Boiler's lips, and his attention turned to Tony. “You, old man. Over there.” He motioned with a wave of the gun barrel.
Tony was crouched beside an unconscious biker whose pistol was a metre away on the ground.
“Don’t even think about it,” Boiler growled.
Tony hesitated a moment, then raised his hands in surrender. He stepped close enough to bump Micah’s shoulder, causing him to sidestep. Then repeated the move. What was he trying to do?
The malice that spread across Boiler’s face made Micah’s stomach flip. This wasn’t a man you could reason with or who would back down under pressure.
Tony shouldered Micah again and they both shuffled to Boiler’s unarmed side.
“That’ll do.” Boiler’s shotgun barrel pointed at Micah.
Chelsea either didn’t realise she was free or was too terrified to make a move. Her shoulders and hands visibly shook. Tears leaked from her eyes and collided with the arc of her pink lips. Violent, hiccupping sobs rent from her.
“Shut the fuck up.” Boiler cuffed the back of her head, and she fell to her knees again.
How dare the bastard! Micah calculated how close he would get to the biker before he could get a shot off, but Tony’s restraining hand gripped his forearm.
Boiler pumped the shotgun to chamber a bullet, and Micah’s already thundering heart took flight.
This was it. Everything he’d achieved in his life was going to be blown away by this money-hungry thug. All he’d ever wanted was to protect his family, and he’d thought his wealth had given him the means to do it. Now it was the reason they were all going to die.
Boiler aimed a malicious stare and his weapon at Micah. “So you thought you’d come and take them without paying, did you?”
Micah’s mouth popped open. He would give this greasy bastard every penny in each one of his bank accounts in exchange for his son and Chelsea’s safety.
I don’t want the damned money without my family.
“Just let Chelsea go. The money is being transferred tomorrow morning. You’ll see it in your bank by the afternoon. It’s already organised.” He needed to keep Boiler busy long enough to give Tony an opportunity to do something.
For crying out loud, what is the man waiting for?
“I think we’re a bit past promises now, don’t you?” Boiler sneered. “In fact, my feelings are hurt that you didn’t take my offer seriously. I would’ve thought ten mil for your kid would’ve been a no-brainer, but I guess you like having money more than you like having a brat, eh?”
“No! That’s not what this is about.” Micah moved another step to the right, turning Boiler farther away from Chelsea. How much more does Tony need to take him out? “All I want is to keep my family safe. I read about the woman buried in the forest and thought you’d already killed Chelsea. Why don’t you lower the gun, and we can figure this out. I can see I’ve underestimated you. You’ve taken good care of them, so you deserve your money.”
“Damn straight. It’s only fair for the shit this bitch has put me through.” He nudged Chelsea’s back with his boot, and she sprawled on her stomach.
Micah leapt towards her.
“Hey! You don’t wanna be doing anything stupid,” Boiler told him, realigning the barrel of the gun.
From the edge of his vision, Mi
cah watched Tony step closer to the biker.
Boiler’s eyes widened and he turned his body, but the gun took longer to follow. Tony rolled under the first shot and used momentum to slam his head into Boiler’s stomach. Arms wrapped around the man’s waist, his tackle toppled them both.
Another shot resounded in the clearing, and Micah ducked.
Tony and Boiler hit the ground together with a grunt, scattering gravel and dust. The biker rolled free and sprang to his feet, heading for the house with Tony in pursuit.
Micah turned towards a wet gurgling sound. Chelsea was prone, a small patch of crimson spreading across the back of her cream blouse.
An animalistic sound bubbled from his throat as he ran to her.
“Chels!” He knelt, rolled her over to assess the extent of the injury.
She winced. “You came.”
A heart-shaped stain seeped from a jagged wound on her chest. “Of course I came. You needed my help. I told you I’d always be here for you.” With Chelsea’s head cradled in his lap, he applied pressure to each side of the wound. “I’m going to call an ambulance. Everything will be all right.”
“Make sure our baby is safe.”
“Neve already has him. Everything is going to be all right,” he repeated like a mantra.
He dialled 000, turned the mobile phone to loudspeaker, and put it on the ground so he could continue to apply pressure to the sticky wounds. An operator picked up the call.
“What is your emergency?”
“A woman’s been shot and there’s a lot of blood.” Micah relayed as much information as he could to the soothing female voice and then the call was transferred to another operator.
Chelsea whispered, “Don’t waste your time.”
A pressure at the back of his eyes built as he stroked her blonde hair. Her clammy face blurred. “Don’t ever say that, Chels. You’re part of my family, and I’ll always fight for you.”
She sobbed. “I wish . . .”
“Shh, you don’t need to say anything. The ambulance will be here soon.” How long will it take to reach this isolated property? Chelsea’s skin looked grey.
The second operator fired questions at him. “Please state the address where the emergency is, sir.”
“I just told the other operator. Will you please get an ambulance here? She doesn’t look good.”
“An ambulance has been dispatched, sir, but I need to relay as much information as I can to make sure they get to you as quickly as possible.”
The operator took his call-back number and name.
“Okay, Micah, now tell me how many people are hurt.”
“There are four men down but not dead, and my wife has been shot.”
“Did you check the men’s pulses or injuries?”
“No, but they’re not moving. I don’t care about them; I just want someone to help my wife.”
“I understand, Micah. Help is on the way. Did you shoot your wife?”
“No! There are gang members with guns.”
“Are you still in danger?”
“Yes. Maybe. I can’t see anyone else at the moment. My wife has lost a lot of blood.”
“What is your wife’s name and age?”
“Chelsea, and she’s thirty-three years old.”
“Is she conscious?”
“Yes, she’s talking to me, but she’s very weak.”
“Can you put pressure on the wound, Micah?”
“Yes, I’m pushing on the entry and exit wounds, but my hands are covered in blood. I don’t think it’s helping.”
“What part of her body has been injured?”
“She was shot in the back.”
“Keep applying pressure. The ambulance is about ten minutes from you. Don’t hang up. I should warn you that the property you are at has been flagged as a potential high risk, so the police will be the first ones on the scene.”
He yanked his T-shirt over his head, balled it up, and pressed it against the wound on Chelsea’s chest. “Keep your eyes open, Chels. You keep your eyes on my face, all right?”
She smiled. “You’re a good man. That’s why I wanted to be with you, you know.”
“I’m not going to leave you. Not now, not ever.”
“I know that now. I’m sorry, Micah, for running away with Dave and keeping Rowan from you, for everything.”
“You were afraid.”
She frowned. “Yes, but it wasn’t an excuse to hurt you. I shouldn’t have let Dave make that deal with you.”
“I don’t care about the money, Chels. Only about you and Rowan.”
“But I need you to understand. It wasn’t always about money.”
She coughed, and blood spattered his chest.
Shit!
“Chels! Don’t talk anymore.” He cocked his head. “I can hear the sirens.”
She stared into his eyes and blinked. It was an exaggerated movement, as though it took a huge effort.
“Help is nearly here, Chels. Just hold on.”
“I did love you in the beginning, Mikey.” Her lips stretched to reveal red-stained teeth. “It wasn’t your fault I didn’t fit.”
“Shh. You don’t need to tell me this now. Wait until you’re feeling better.”
“Just couldn’t s-stay in your world.”
Her eyes rolled back, her head rested heavily against his stomach.
“Chels?” He shook her shoulder gently. There was so much blood now. The delicate silk blouse was tie-dyed red.
All the money in the world wasn’t worth this. Everything he’d done was for his family, and without them none of it mattered.
Chapter 35
A bee hovered lazily in front of Neve’s face, but she daren’t swat at it. Rowan was pressed against her belly as they crouched under a bushy protea. One finger rested lightly across his lips to remind him to be silent. Soundless tremors vibrated through him and into her.
Dusty, leather boots had been waiting in the nearby grass for several minutes. They were an arm’s length away and joined to denim-clad legs and muscular thighs. The hunter sighed and turned, as though to walk away.
A lick of wind rustled leaves, and Rowan whimpered.
“Gotcha.” The boots spun and rushed towards them.
Bent over like this, Neve couldn’t defend herself, so she settled for protecting Rowan. She pushed him behind a tree and braced for impact as steel-capped leather connected with her ribs. Every molecule of air was expelled from her body in a loud huff. Using the momentum, she rolled backwards, ribs screaming in protest.
Not good. Need to take this bastard down and get Rowan out of here.
The pain in her side prevented her drawing breath, but she gasped through it and pushed onto her hands and knees—a vulnerable position. A searing pain ripped across her scalp, and she was jerked to her feet, by her hair . . .where she looked straight into Dave Wilks’s eyes.
“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” He bared slightly yellow teeth.
When he released her hair, her first instinct was to rub her scalp, but she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity. Her knuckles connected with his exposed trapezium muscle, right where it joined the front of his shoulder.
“Shit!” He clamped his arm to his side and rubbed the injury.
This wasn’t a fair fight while he was still on his feet though, so Neve spun and kicked the back of his knee. Dave wasn’t as solid as some of the other gang members, but he obviously wasn’t a lightweight. The move should’ve dropped him, but he just stumbled. Worse still, now he looked really pissed off.
Damn. I need to bring him down to a manageable size.
She somersaulted across the twigs and leaf litter, coming into a crouch and swinging her own booted foot into his ankle. This time he toppled sideways. It was the break she needed to gain the upper hand. Pushing off a tree stump, she launched.
A familiar click turned her tensed muscles limp mid-air. Impetus carried her into Dave’s shoulder, and they ended up flat on th
e ground in a tangle of limbs. It was close enough to gouge his eyes or something . . .if he didn’t have a Smith and Wesson pointed at Rowan’s head.
“Baby, I didn’t know you felt that way.” The pig thrust his pelvis into her. “Normally I’d be happy to oblige, but how about you get off me now? You wouldn’t want this gun to accidentally go off, eh?”
She glanced from Rowan to the silver pistol. All I need is a moment.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Dave growled.
Rowan’s eyes were wide and dark from fear. The fight went out of her in an instant.
“Don’t hurt him,” she begged.
“Then how about you stand up and put your wrists together?”
She complied. How could she release the blade on her calf without him getting suspicious? Damn it, she couldn’t.
Surely, Tony had incapacitated Boiler by now and would be headed this way with Micah and Chelsea. There had been several shots from the vicinity of the shed. Perhaps there was no one left to come to her aid. Rowan might have a better chance if he ran away. No, Dave wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.
It was too late to make a decision as Dave ripped the leather belt from his waist and wrapped the thick binding tightly around her wrists. At least he hadn’t been to Tony’s school of “always bind hands behind the back.” Although it didn’t seem like it just now, every mistake Dave made could be to her advantage.
“Right, now we’re going to walk back to the house and see what Boiler wants to do with you. This little bloke”—Dave ruffled Rowan’s hair, and Neve wanted to punch his nose—“is worth a whole lot of dough.”
At least that meant he didn’t intend to kill them right away.
Dave grabbed the belt around Neve’s wrists and dragged her forward. He turned to
Rowan. “Come on, kid, let’s go see your mum, eh?”
Neve stumbled as she was pulled along.
Hell, this sucks. It should’ve been easy to get Rowan out with Tony and Micah occupying the other men. Bloody Dave. “You don’t have to do this, Dave. You know there isn’t any way you’re going to get away with this. Micah’s accountant isn’t going to transfer the money if anything happens to him. Your cover is blown.”
“Shut up.”
