Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom)

by Callahan, Shannon

“She’s fine, babe, completely fine. She’s been staying with me. Stella actually just took her to school about an hour ago. She insisted on taking her exams yesterday and today. She’s been studying by your bedside since you were brought in. I think she wants to be a doctor now,” he chuckles.

  I point to my shoulder and then to him. He pulls down the corner of his shirt, exposing a white bandage. “Went straight through—I’ll be back to normal in a few weeks. It’s healing well,” he promises. I nod, feeling a lot better than I did a few minutes ago … Blaze and Marie are both okay. Then I remember Carl, and dread takes over my body.

  “Carl?” I mouth again, worried that he’s still at large.

  “He’s dead, Brynn, but not from the axe,” he says cautiously, as if expecting me to be upset by the news. All I feel is relief coursing through my veins. I didn’t want Blaze to get into trouble for protecting me. “He died from smoke inhalation before anyone could get to him.” I just nod my head and squeeze his hand tightly, my eyes growing heavy again.

  “Sleep, baby,” Blaze whispers.

  Chapter 19

  One week later…

  “Babe, it’s happening. I already talked to Marie, and she wants to stay there, too. She’s been staying there the last three weeks with me anyway,” Blaze argues.

  “Look Blaze, I love you, I really do. I just feel like I’m forcing this to move too fast,” I admit.

  “Brynn, I wanted you to move in even before the fire destroyed the condo, did I not?”

  “I guess, but …”

  “The only butt I want is yours … in my damn bed. Now let’s go,” Blaze commands.

  It’s been three long weeks since the fire. Well, that’s a lie—the first two flew by for me, considering I wasn’t even conscious. The coma was thought to be caused by smoke inhalation. They have every hope that there should be no lasting effects. The last week has been a challenge, though. I am still in a lot of pain, but I know I need to work through it if I want to get better. It’s kind of hard to do when everyone is babying me, though; oohing and ahhing over every little thing I want to do. I can barely even use the washroom in peace.

  All broken bones have done most of their healing, and the only thing I’m left with now is a fractured cheek bone and two healing ribs. Not bad, all things considered. I can walk and function just fine, and I stopped my pain medication yesterday. It’s still probably not going to feel the greatest on Blaze’s Harley, though.

  Marie has been in the hospital every day. She studied her butt off and finished her exams despite everything. She told me while I was in the hospital that she wants to become a doctor. I promised her I’d do anything I could to make sure her dream became a reality.

  Damien Flynn was charged with aiding and abetting an attempted murder and is now in prison with no chance of bail while he awaits trial. I feel like I can finally breathe and rest easy.

  We walk through the hospital doors, and I look around for Blaze’s bike, but it’s nowhere to be found. He pulls a key fob from his back pocket, clicks on the button, and I look in the direction of the beep.

  “You bought a Jaguar?” I ask him disbelievingly as I stare at the beautiful new Jaguar XKR-S in French racing blue. It’s absolutely beautiful.

  “Not quite,” he says.

  “What do you mean ‘not quite’?” I ask, walking toward the car, and rubbing my hand over her shiny exterior.

  “Babe, I drive a Harley, not a car,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Oh,” I say, not quite understanding. “Did you rent it or something?”

  “No. Just thought you and Marie wouldn’t quite fit on the back of my bike. Figured you should have something to get you two around.”

  “No, no, no,” I start. I’m not taking this. He throws the keys to me, and I catch them so they don’t fall to the ground.

  “Get in,” he says, opening the driver’s side door.

  “I can’t.”

  “Jesus, woman, you’re as stubborn as a mule. My shoulder hurts, so you gotta drive,” he says with a wink. I’m not sure if he’s lying or not, but I feel a pang of guilt and climb into the plush leather seats.

  I swear I feel an orgasm rip through me from just putting my hands on the wheel.

  “Sexy, isn’t she?” he says, climbing in the passenger side and closing his door. “She reminded me of you, except, you know, less stubborn. When you hit the gas she doesn’t question you before she purrs,” he says with a laugh.

  “Hey now, be nice! I’ll drive her home, but then you have to take her back. I can walk just fine,” I argue.

  “Babe, I live twenty minutes out of town. You can’t walk. If you don’t like it, you can pick out another one,” he says slyly.

  “Sure, like an ‘89 Volvo. That would do the trick just the same,” I laugh, thinking back to the only car Ma ever owned.

  “Not safe babe,” he growls.

  “Oh, and a motorcycle is?”

  “It is when I’m driving it. Now say thank you, and listen to her purr,” he orders, and for once, I do as I’m told.

  We arrive back at Blaze’s a little while later. I was tempted to speed the whole way home, but managed to keep myself under control. I would love to let her loose, but it’s not going to happen. As pretty as she is, she needs to go back. Blaze grabs my hospital bag, and I rush inside to find Marie on the couch with a solemn look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, moving quickly to her side. She’s clutching her cell phone tightly.

  “The doctor just called … Ma died last night,” Marie says, tears now falling from her eyes.

  “What? What happened?” I ask, knowing full well. I am actually incredibly surprised she hung on this long. I guess I inherited something from her after all, my stubbornness.

  “They said she passed in her sleep last night. She had nobody there, Brynn. She died alone, because I left her,” Marie says, weeping loudly.

  “I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Blaze says, sweeping Marie up into a hug.

  “I guess I should book some tickets to go back home,” I offer.

  “I’ll do that, beautiful,” Blaze says, kissing my temple and leaving the room.

  I’m left in the incredibly awkward situation. I wish I could cry over Ma passing, but I feel like it’s almost a relief. I’ve had this hanging over my head since we last left Oregon. I’m at least glad we’re now safe, so we’re able to go back for her funeral, though.

  I truly can’t believe that Carl is dead. I thought I would live the rest of my life in fear of him not going to prison, being released from prison, or even escaping prison. His death has finally given me peace. The hospital tried to make me see their therapist about the fire, but I told them it could wait until I could see my own. Watching Carl get hit with an axe was surprisingly not as traumatic as seeing Blaze get shot. He still isn’t able to lift his arm perfectly, but the doctors are hoping he’ll be back to one hundred percent in another week or two.

  I look to Marie and whisper some comforting words until Blaze comes back in the room.

  “Earliest flight I could book us was tomorrow night. We’ll be able to sleep through the flight, though, and make it in time for the funeral in the morning,” Blaze says.

  I start to panic, wondering how in the hell I’m going to pay for a funeral. I don’t even know how much they cost—just that it’s probably more than I have. Oh well, we may not have always gotten along, but she deserves a nice funeral, and Marie deserves to have that closure, as well. I excuse myself from the room, and look up the number for a local funeral home. I decide to cremate her as I know the thought of bugs crawling through her eye sockets would freak her out. Or at least she always hated that worm at the bottom of the tequila bottle. Same thing, right?

  The funeral home says they will work with me on a payment plan, and I call the hospital to thank them for all that they’ve done and let them know the funeral home will be picking up her body.

  I stay up late scanning social media sites for p
hotos of Ma. I manage to come up with two that I blow up to 8x10 and send in to a one-hour photo place. We can pick them up tomorrow before going to the airport. When I feel like I’ve done all that I can do, I search out Blaze. He’s in his office on the phone, talking to what sounds like a potential client.

  While I was in the hospital, I finally found out what sort of business Blaze’s father left him. It turns out my good friend, Antoine, is actually one of many. His father ran a business that supplies bodyguards and safety personnel to high profile celebrities and political figures all over New York, as well as nine other locations in the United States. Now Blaze runs it all for him.

  Maybe I should offer to be Ian Somerhalder’s personal bodyguard? I’m guessing that wouldn’t go over very well with Blaze. He feels terrible for not forcing me to get a bodyguard the night of the fire. In all honesty, I’m still relieved. He could have shot and killed them as well, and I’d always have that on my conscience. Marie and I are safe now, and that’s all that matters.

  I look back to a very distracted and stressed looking Blaze and decide to relieve some of that stress for him. I close the door and walk over to his desk, spinning his chair around and dropping to my knees. Blaze’s eyes widen in confusion, but when I run my tongue over my lips, he seems to understand where this is headed. A smile plays across his face as he continues to argue with whoever is on the phone. He lifts his butt as I pull his pants down to his knees, effectively freeing his already hard cock.

  I lick the tip first, slowly, watching Blaze’s face as I do. He’s biting his lip intermittently, but still managing to keep up with the conversation he’s having. That won’t do. I wrap my mouth around the edge and suck hard, swirling my tongue over the tip.

  “Fuck,” he cries out. I giggle, watching as he tries to work it into the argument.

  I pull him into my mouth, as far back as I can get him in, going slowly, so I can watch his face while I do. I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft and start to work him faster and harder. His breathing quickens and he starts answering whoever is on the other end of the line in one word, breathy answers. I work harder and harder until he finally clips out, “Gotta go,” hangs up, and throws his phone on the desk. He puts a hand on the back of my head, moving me up and down, and I let him control the speed. I feel him growing harder, and his cock starts pulsing as he shoots his release down the back of my throat. I swallow eagerly, milking every drop until he’s completely dry.

  “Mmm,” I say, pulling away.

  “Fuck, Brynn, that was unbelievably hot,” Blaze says with a smile, pulling me up for a kiss. He pulls away, and using one arm, effectively clears everything off his desk in one swift swipe. He lifts me up, laying me back on the desk and pulling my pants off.

  “Your turn,” he says throatily.

  ~

  We arrive in Oregon the morning of Ma’s funeral. We check into a hotel, and I leave early to go to the grave site to help set up. Blaze is bringing Marie before the service begins. I take the two framed photographs I have of her and set them beside her urn. I pull the medallion Mr. Howard gave me out of my pocket and set in inside the pre-dug hole. Someone has been looking out for me, and now it’s time for someone to look out for her. I’ve found my peace.

  There’s nobody here yet, so I decide to sit down and talk to her for the last time. “I’m sorry you went out suffering, Ma. That’s no way for anyone to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to know you better and that you left so many unanswered questions for us. I wish we had gotten to know you better. I wish you didn’t let alcohol consume your life. Maybe then you would have loved me,” I say, letting a tear fall down my cheek.

  “She did love you. I’m sure of that,” I hear from a deep voice behind me. I turn around, a little scared. The voice is coming from a man in his late twenties, and I wonder how in the hell he would know my ma. I’ve never seen him before in my life. He has dark brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, and a five o’clock shadow. He’s tattooed and looks like he’s led a hard life, but his eyes are gentle, and I don’t feel like I’m in any danger.

  “Sorry?” I ask.

  “The name’s Terry. I met Cindy at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting about five years ago. She talked about you girls a lot these past few months. If I’m sure about one thing, it’s that she loved you and your sister,” Terry says sympathetically.

  “I think you have the wrong Cindy …” I start.

  “Brynn?” he asks.

  “Yeah, it is actually,” I say, now completely astounded.

  “She didn’t say much when she first started coming in. God, she didn’t say much at all for the first few years. I always got the feeling she just didn’t want to be there, but every week she would show up,” Terry says, shaking his head. “She didn’t tell me much until she went into the hospital.

  I’d go and visit her, try and keep her company, you know? Nobody should have to die alone. I thought she was a bitter old lady, until she started talking about you and Marie. She was proud of you both. She said you took care of Marie when she couldn’t, and Marie, she said she just never stopped trying. She still cooked for her every night, even though she couldn’t keep anything down because of the alcohol. Your ma thought she was a saint.”

  I feel tears streaming down my face now, and I look up at Terry, pleading for him to continue. He sits down beside me in the grass and starts plucking the shards one by one until he speaks again.

  “I really don’t know if it’s my place to say this, but there’s a reason she drank the way she did. She didn’t want to hurt you girls. She hated herself for it every day, but she just couldn’t stop, no matter how hard she tried,” he says, pausing for a minute as if he’s trying to decide if he should tell me or not.

  “Please,” I plead, and he nods his head.

  “Your mom, she had a hard life growing up. She said her dad started raping her before she was even old enough to go to school. He threatened her, and he’d beat her when your grandmother wasn’t home, which she said was often since your grandmother was the only one who worked. She hid that pain for eleven years, the abuse almost daily, until he finally died. She was sixteen then and moved out on her own. She couldn’t stand your grandmother crying over him. Your grandmother never knew, and from what your mom told me, she never told a soul about it … until me. I’m guessing she only told me because she was on her death bed,” Terry says, and he truly looks like his heart is breaking.

  Tears are now pouring down my face, and I don’t even attempt to wipe them. My whole life I hated this woman, and now I can almost understand where she was coming from. I spent five years, as an adult, with my husband raping me, and I still get lost in the pain. I can’t imagine dealing with that as a child, and from my own father no less. I weep openly, and Terry reaches over and rubs my back.

  “I’m so sorry. I’ve been fighting with myself, wondering if I should tell you. I just couldn’t leave her story untold. She wasn’t a bad woman; she just had a lot of pain,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I say, looking up into those caring brown eyes. “You have no idea what that means to me. I only wish she had told me sooner.”

  “I can’t tell you why she didn’t. I do know that she only wanted to protect you both, though. That’s why you’ve never met your fathers and why she never had a man in your home. Even though she might not have shown it, she loved you both. Living in the same trailer she was abused in, though, was really tough for her,” Terry says.

  I give him a little smile because I’m thankful for everything he’s told me, and I’m rewarded with one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve ever seen in return.

  “You don’t seem like you belong in an AA meeting,” I tell him honestly.

  “We’re not bad people, you know, we’ve just all got our own demons. Sometimes alcohol just helps those demons disappear,” he says thoughtfully.

  I think back to the plane ride home from seeing Ma in the hospital and how easy it was to just have a drink and forget all my
pain. I had too much to lose to keep up the behavior, though, and I guess I was lucky to have Blaze there guiding me.

  “I understand that now, thank you again,” I say as I watch the priest exit his car and start walking up to where Terry and I are sitting.

  “Well, unfortunately, I have a few other friends to visit here. I’ll be back for her funeral to pay my respects, though,” he says, standing up. He offers me a hand, and I take it. He helps me up and pulls me into a hug.

  “Take care of yourself, Brynn,” he says warmly.

  “You too, Terry,” I tell him, and with that, he walks off, moving on to another headstone.

  I wipe the tears from my face and walk down to meet the priest. I’ve got something important I need to tell him.

  ~

  Marie and Blaze arrive later, as do a handful of other people I’ve never met before. The priest speaks first before asking if anyone has anything to say. I hesitate a moment, trying to remember everything I decided to say after meeting Terry, but in my hesitation, Marie decides to speak. She moves up to stand beside the priest.

  “Ma, I can’t tell you how much I’m going to miss you …” she says with a tear streaked face, but before she can finish her sentence, I hear a loud bang and watch in horror as Marie’s arm is torn open by what I can only assume is a bullet. I scream as I hear another gunshot go off, but there’s nothing I can do; I’m too far away. Terry, who is standing closest to Marie seems to notice where the shooter is standing and jumps in front of Marie, taking the second bullet in his chest. I rush to their sides as Blaze takes off in pursuit of the shooter.

  I don’t have time to worry about Blaze, though. Marie is bleeding profusely but seems to be in better shape than Terry. I place my hands on top of Terry’s wound and scream for help. I vaguely hear someone on the phone behind me calling 9-1-1.

  “It’s going to be all right Terry, it is. Please, please just hang in there,” I pray. His wound is gushing, and I do my best to apply pressure to it.