Page 100 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Fifty-Five

“God, help me please!”

Brec’s body froze halfway up the path, Molly’s fading scream snatching the air from his lungs. The gift-wrapped box of gourmet chocolate almonds she so adored plummeted from his hands as he tore up the trail like a madman, ice water coursing through his veins when he crested the hill.

He gaped at the abandoned picnic lunch, and panic petrified his limbs, his voice shredded and hoarse when it finally scraped past his lips. “Molly!” he shouted, frantically spinning around when he heard the frail sound of a sob.

“Oh, Molly …” It was barely a whisper of pain as he sprinted to the far ledge. He stopped several feet shy of where she lay sprawled on its jagged edge for fear of breaking the shale. One of her arms dangled in space while she lay whimpering on her back, eyes closed and blood marring her face. “Molly …” His throat convulsed while he knelt as close to her as he could, quickly assessing for signs of serious injury while he noted bruises on her arms and neck. He winced at one of her ankles, almost swollen twice its size. “Sweetheart, who did this to you?” he whispered, his voice cracking against his will as he scanned the area for any sign of an intruder.

Body quivering, she lifted her eyelids just barely, allowing a shaky nod while tears welled so much, they slid into her hair from the corners of her eyes. Her voice was a rasp of pain. “H-Harley tried to k-kill m-me …”

“Harley?” Fingers fumbling, he canvassed the area once more while he dialed 911, suspecting a concussion if she couldn’t remember that Harley was dead.

“911, what's your emergency?” a voice answered, and Brec rattled off the necessary information, giving them Aunt Lilly’s address before he disconnected and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Can you move your arms and legs, sweetheart?”

She managed a faint nod followed by a groan.

“Good. Then listen to me, Molly. I’m going to slowly move you back from the ledge, all right?”

She nodded again, and he went to work, gently sliding her further back to stable ground. Once she was secure, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her unmarred cheek, tasting the salt of her tears while he battled his own. “Help’s on the way, sweetheart, so tell me what happened.”

“Oh, Brec, it w-was a … a n-nightmare …” Her voice quivered on a heartbreaking heave, more streams of saltwater mingling with the blood on her cheeks. “H-Harley ch-choked me and almost r-raped me, then tried to k-kick me off the l-ledge …”

Rage flashed through him like the heat of an explosion, singeing the temper he worked so hard to control. Hand poised against his conceal-carry holster, he glanced around once more, more than ready to fine-tune his shooting skills. “Where is he?” he bit out, his tone as toxic as his mood.

Her throat muscles worked as she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing more moisture to leak down her cheeks. “He’s dead,” she finally whispered, attempting a shaky nod toward the cliff while a broken sob escaped from her throat.

“Dead?” He blinked, then rose to walk to the secure edge of the cliff, peering down into the pristine waters of the bubbling spring below. His stomach rolled at the sight of a man sprawled lifeless on the rocks below like a broken marionette, eyes open wide in horror.

His own eyelids shuddered closed for a moment before he returned to Molly’s side. He gently brushed blood-matted strands of hair from her face, revealing more bruises and scrapes. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart,” he whispered.

A shudder rattled her body before she finally looked up, eyes rimmed raw with pain and sorrow. “I … I … w-was settting up our picnic, when I heard s-someone coming, and I thought it w-was you, so I didn’t t-turn around.” When she continued to shiver, he stripped his jacket off and wrapped both it and hers more tightly around her.

By the time she’d related the entire ordeal, Brec felt as near as battered as she, at least emotionally. His mind whirled with a tumult of emotions from fear and fury, to horror and hate.

Until the grace of God finally won out with a gratitude so profound over Molly’s life being spared, that he shed tears of his own. “Rest,” he whispered, gently stroking her face, “while I contact Miss Lilly and the police, all right?”

Her eyelids drifted closed in response, and Brec bent to graze a tender kiss to her lips before rising to call Miss Lilly.

“What’s wrong?” Miss Lilly was quick to ask when she answered the phone, and Brec instantly schooled his voice into a calm and reassuring tone he sure didn’t feel.

“Molly’s been hurt, but it doesn’t appear to be anything life-threatening, so there’s no need to worry. I called 911 and gave them your address, so can you direct them to the waterfall bluff?”

“Of course I can, but what happened?” she demanded.

“I’ll fill you in later, Aunt Lilly, because I need to get back to Molly. She’s pretty bruised up.”

“Don’t you put me off, Breccan McGill,” she snapped, the worry in her tone the main reason he hadn’t wanted to go into it now. “Something bad happened to our girl, and I want to know right now what it was.”

Our girl. His eyes misted all over again at how close they’d come to losing her. He expelled a shaky sigh. “She said a prison mate of Harley’s attacked her, the same one who attacked her the day she went to Pete’s house, when she mistook him for Harley.”

“What!? Where is he now?”

Brec glanced over his shoulder to where Molly was lying with eyes closed before his gaze veered toward the cliff. “Dead. He was trying to throw Molly off the ledge, but our girl was too smart for him. Seems Chase taught her a ton of defensive moves in the Navy, and several came in handy today, saving her life.”

“Sweet God of Mercy,” Miss Lilly whispered, voice raspy with emotion, “I need to give that boy free rent for all he does for us.”

A faint smile tugged at Brec’s lips as he thought of Chase Griffin, no longer harboring jealousy toward a man who was quickly becoming a good friend. “I’ll second that.”