AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But from what?
There is no sign that the house has been disrupted. So, whatever danger she was running into was not here.
I dial her number again, and this time it goes straight to voicemail. When I hang up, I don't redial. Instead, I call Ford. As soon as he picks up, I order him to come back to the house. Then I open the tracker app on my phone and load the details for the car she took. After a moment, a little blue dot comes up on the screen, telling me the location of the car. It takes me a second to realise where it is. Outside her sister's house.
Did she call me because Letta is in trouble? And I ignored her. I told her I would be there any time she needed me to stand between her and her brother-in-law. I fell at the first hurdle.
I take some comfort in the fact she is armed. At least she had not gone in without any weapons. But my wife, for all her fire, is never going to be able to stand up against a grown man.
It feels like it takes an eternity for Ford to return with the car. When he pulls up outside, I jump in the back. I reel off the address of where we’re going and order him to get there fast. Nervous energy sings through me in a way I’ve never experienced. Not even when Zeke was shot. Yes, I had been out of my mind with worry, but Zeke can take care of himself. I have no doubt Elena is a strong woman, but she is no match for Michael Maloney.
And that man has already proven he has no qualms about taking a fist to a woman. If he has laid a hand on my wife, I will spill his guts on the floor. I don't give a shit about his political connections. I will end his miserable life.
The drive over drags along at a snail's pace. By the time we pull up outside the house, I am on edge. I see the car parked alongside the curb and the meat in the centre of my chest gives a solid thump. She's here, just as the app said she would be.
I climb out of the car quickly, Ford following me. I don't order him to stay back. I might need the backup and I'm not willing to risk Elena's safety just to prove a point.
An unease crawls up my spine as I try the front door. It opens, and I glance at Ford before I step into the house. As soon as the door shuts behind me, Ford hands me a wicked-looking blade before pulling out his own.
The house is quiet,but I can hear voices rumbling from within the depths of the building. I can't tell if they're male or female, but it doesn't matter. I step into the first room carefully and see signs of a struggle. Things have been overturned, ornaments smashed on the floor, and there is a body sprawled out on the highly polished wood floorboards. Ford moves to her, rolling her over. I recognise her from the wedding, though it’s difficult to make out her features because of the beating she has taken. There is no mistake though. It is Elena’s sister. Letta's head lolls on her shoulders, her eyes closed, blood weaving down the side of her face. She is swollen, her cheek double the size it should be, and her eyes are starting to blacken.
Ford meets my gaze before he lowers Letta back to the floor. Then we proceed through the house, checking every room we pass and clearing it. As we get towards the back of the building, the voices start to get louder, and I realise it isn't two voices, but one. A pissed off male one.
I pause at the door, readjusting my grip on my weapon. Then I hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a female cry. I recognise the tone as Elena's immediately.
Without thought for my own safety, or concern about if Michael Maloney is armed, I push into the room.
The scene that greets me makes my blood run cold.
There is a column in the centre of the room, affixed to the central island in the middle of the kitchen. Elena has her back to it, her hands pulled behind her, and from the looks of it, tied behind the column. Her top has been removed, leaving her in just her bra and her jeans. Seeing her exposed like this makes my blood boil. Her head hangs low to her chest, as if she is barely keeping herself conscious, and I can already see the bruises starting to form on her arms. My gaze lowers and my anger feels like it's going to explode out of me. The word 'Whore' has been carved onto her stomach. Blood stains the top of her jeans from the slice wounds, turning my gut inside out.
Michael hasn't noticed us yet. He is at the stove, holding the blade over the open flame. I know precisely what he's going to do with it, because I have done it to more men than I can count over the years.
Elena's head raises slightly, and her unfocused eyes scan the room before falling on me. The pain in her eyes, the anguish, unleashes the demons I normally hold back by sheer will.
I explode. Like a volcano erupting, I blow my top. I don't stop to consider the danger. All I can feel is the anger, the torment of seeing my wife bound like that. I move like lightning, crossing the room faster than should be possible. Michael turns at the last moment, but it doesn't stop me from doing what I intend. I slam the knife into his flesh, not caring where it finds a home. It gets him low in his gut, and I can see the surprise before the pain registers. I twist the blade, making sure to drive it deeper as I do.
Michael fights back, shoving me against the counter behind me. My back hits hard enough to wind me, but I don't take the time I need to recover. Instead, I drag the knife out of his body. He tries to block me, and half succeeds, meaning I only manage to slam it into his upper chest, instead of his neck.
Leaving the knife where it is, I slam him back against the wall behind him and punch him with everything I have. I know I have a lead fist, because it’s one of the things people always say about me. So I know my beating hurts. That gives me some pleasure as I slam into his gut over and over, trying to get as close to his wound as I can. He grunts and moans as I attack him in a frenzied motion. I'm going to rip him apart with my bare hands. Elena is a Fraser, and she is my wife. No one lays hands on her.
I get Michael onto the floor and straddle him so I can continue to beat the fuck out of him. I rain down punches to his face, relishing the way his head snaps from side to side with the force of my fists.
Then I grab the knife from his shoulder, twisting it as I drag it out, and I slam it into his eye. He doesn't scream, but his whole body jerks before stilling.
My knuckles bruised, my skin coated in blood, I remain on top of him as my breath tears out of me. I would have liked an hour with him, maybe more, and I regret my rash anger.
“Mr Fraser.” Ford's voice barely penetrates through the fog of my rage. “Kane.” It’s the first time he has ever used my first name, and it's enough to have my head whipping around. He has Elena in his arms bridal style. Her head lolls to the side as if her neck is unable to support it, and her arms hang loosely like they are made of wet noodles. I go to him and take my wife from his arms, my heart racing. She was awake a moment ago, but now there is no sign of consciousness. The only thing that soothes my panic is the fact I can see her chest rising and falling in slow, steady beats.
“Get Letta. We need to leave.” I head out to the car carrying Elena in my arms, hugging her against my chest as sticky fear clings to me. I've never felt terror like it. I'm going to shred him. I'm going to rip him apart piece by piece.
It takes a little manoeuvring to get the car door open while keeping hold of Elena, but I manage it, sliding her onto the back seat and then climbing in behind her myself. I lift her head onto my lap, stroking her hair. Her dazed eyes open and seek me out.
“You came.”
It feels as if she has shoved an ice pick into my chest. I did come, but too late. If I hadn't been such a stubborn prick, my wife would not be lying here maimed and hurt. I've never needed forgiveness before, never coveted it, but right now I want to get on my knees and beg her to grant me it. I failed her.
“Why did you go there alone?” I ask in a bitter tone. She shouldn't have put herself at risk like that, even if she couldn't get hold of me.
