Page 85 of His Saving Grace

Chapter 21

Masonstretchedout,arms and legs flailing, trying to grab hold of something, anything, to stop his fall. Panic crashed through his veins, sent his heart careening. His fingers scrabbled for a hold, snatching handfuls of crumbling earth. Mud surrounded him, went up his nose, in his mouth. He choked, tried to cough, to pull in air. His lungs burned, pressure building inside him. His face smacked into something hard, his cheek caught something sharp. Searing pain burned the side of his face. He tumbled down, down, down the slope forever, the roar of the slide drowning out the world.

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over. The slide unceremoniously dumped him face down in the creek. The water rushed over him, washing away the worst of the mud.

He came up sputtering, pushing onto his knees. He ached to his very core and was confident he wouldn’t be able to move tomorrow. His bad thigh burned, the ache worse than any of the others. And there were plenty of others. He growled and brushed the water off of his face, taking a moment to get his bearings.

He glanced over his shoulder. The slide had taken out a good chunk of the hillside. The slope wasn’t very high, no more than twenty feet, but it seemed massive when you were sliding down it on your face.

A large tree had come down behind him but had gotten stuck near the bottom of the slide, parallel to the water. Good thing, or this would have been way uglier. It also held back a good chunk of the mud and debris, which prevented the creek from becoming fully blocked. What remained of the hillside was littered with remnants of brush and tree limbs, rocks and leaves.

Mason staggered to his feet, standing in the creek, which was almost up to his knees. He was lucky it wasn’t deeper or it might have swept him away. If he’d been knocked unconscious on the way down, he would have drowned. Something else to be thankful for.

“David?” He scanned the area for any sign of the idiot. “Where are you, you asshole?” He sloshed through the water, heading for the bank. A sharp pain lanced his bad thigh, and his leg almost buckled. He swore and pushed through.

The ground at the edge of the creek bed didn’t look all that stable. He tested it with a tap of his foot. His shoe sunk into the muck, but he was confident it would hold. He climbed out of the water.

“David?” He raised his voice, sweeping his gaze over the ground. A foot stuck out of a pile of debris about twenty feet away. He heaved out a breath and headed in that direction. His hip continued to protest, pain radiating through him with every step. The slippery ground made it treacherous, and he took cautious steps to avoid another dip in the creek. It took forever, but he finally got there. He gave David’s foot a kick.

No response.

He gave it another kick, which was more of a full-on boot. Still, nothing.

His gut knotted. He kicked some of the brush aside. “Don’t do this to me, asshole.” The plea came out more like a hiss, and he dropped to his knees. His hip screamed in protest, but he ignored the agony.

He tore through the debris, tossing sticks and leaves aside in his haste. “Come on, you bastard,” he said, brushing mud off David’s torso. A branch protruded from the opposite side of David’s stomach, embedded in his flesh. He stopped, his heart battering his ribs, and waited, watching for movement. Nothing.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He pulled more of the debris off David. Time seemed to slow the farther along he went. He pulled a clump of leaves and sticks off David’s face and held his breath.

David’s sightless eyes stared straight ahead, his head tilted at an odd angle. His skin, beneath the streaks of dirt, was ashen, the back of his head sunk into the mud.

“You-son-of-a-bitch,” Mason said, dropping his chin to his chest. He closed his eyes, sitting back on his heels with a sigh. There would be no trial, no reckoning, no real closure.

David had gotten off easy. And although he was angry about that, a small part of him was relieved it was over.

He sat there, just breathing, letting reality wash over him, trying to get his chaotic emotions under control. Should he take the body with him? The idea of lugging a hundred-and eighty-pound corpse around was less than appealing. Besides, he didn’t want anyone thinking he killed the bastard. Best to leave everything the way he found it. Even dead, the asshole was making things difficult.

The adrenaline high was wearing off. His entire body ached, the cuts and bruise starting to sting. He staggered to his feet and let out a sound that was half a groan and half a yell. His thigh throbbed, the muscle on the brink of seizing. He kicked David’s body one more time for good measure, and then turned and headed back up the embankment.

It took an eternity for him to limp through the woods. Every step needed to be a cautious one, because he knew if he hit the ground, he wasn’t getting back up. At least not right away. Finally, the gleam of the house lights through the trees buoyed his spirits.

He rounded the pool fence. The scream of a siren roaring up the driveway dumped another hit of adrenaline into his veins, and he forced the pain aside and broke into a limping run. He burst through the back door at the same time that Declan came racing into the kitchen from the hallway. Mason skidded to a stop.

Simon stood near Grace’s head. He reached out and brushed the hair off of her face. Jake was on the table, straddling her body, staring down at her. He held his hands hovering over her chest, like he’d just finished giving her CPR. They were smeared with blood. She wheezed and Jake’s shoulders slumped. Mason didn’t know if it was in relief or defeat.

“Uh,” Mason said.

Jake tossed him a look over his shoulder and then slid off the table. He looked at Declan. “It’s about fucking time the two of you got here.”