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His voice cracked, soon to disappear as the call fell away.
“Johnny!”
“No service,” Marc let go of the phone, letting it slip off his lap to the floor.
I cursed.Loud. Something I never did.
The curves and twists terrified me even though I drove at no more than walking speed to make sure the car stayed on the road. Then, around another bend, a lake appeared, and I abruptly hit the brake. The motion jolted Marc alert.
“Where the f—” he cut himself off as the car again jerked into motion. “Just stop,” he hissed. “I can’t—”
A cottage at a rocky beach caught my attention, and I took the car over to it and stopped. I hesitated, studying the old gray wood and listened for the sound of life. Only waves against the rocks, and birdsong reached my ears. Everything was still. Calm. I felt myself relax and let go of the wheel. “I think it’s vacant.”
Looking between the cottage and Marc, I made a quick decision. We couldn’t go on further. He couldn’t. And by the endless turns that led us here, the chances of anyone being behind us were slim.
I shut off the engine and tumbled to the ground. My legs trembled as I tried to stand. Weak from tension and fear, I clung to the door until I hoped I was strong enough to walk without passing out.
*
A rock to the little glass window in the door was enough to poke a hand through and unlock it. As I helped Marc inside, I couldn’t help but be amazed how my life changed in the last few days. Despite the danger and the drama, I liked it. I felt more alive since I left the estate than I did in my twenty-three years of safety behind our walls. Too bad it had to end…
Marc’s eyes took in the place, and mine followed. Spiderwebs clung to the ceiling and the windows, confirming what I hoped. No one had been here for a long time. It was a shame, though. The place was lovely. And during any other circumstances, I would have enjoyed it. I could even see myself drawing my last breaths here, surrounded by stillness and nature. Safe under a timber ceiling and four log walls.
Marc collapsed on a dusty red coach the moment I let him go. I stood staring, torn between the need to warn him about the dirt, and allowing him the well-needed break. The latter won, if only just barely. Ignoring the stirred-up dust, visible in the rays of sun filtering in from between a white net-curtain covering a small window, I sunk to the floor next to him. Exhaustion overwhelmed me. Everything I hadn’t had time to feel, washed over me. But I had no time to rest. My hands trembled so bad I could barely grasp his hand.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I got you.”
Lifting his hand, still sticky from blood, I tried not to let it scare me. It was hard not to. Nausea rose in my throat as the metallic smell wrapped around me, reminding me of just how bad this was. I swallowed it down and tried to breathe through the second wave.
He shifted, pulling the hand free to fumble with the belt tightened around his arm.
“Let me,” I said, and his hand dropped as I reached out. The belt fell away, drawing a wince from him as the circulation flooded his muscles.
No fresh blood came, which I took as a good sign. But that was about all I knew. How did one treat a bullet wound? Was this something I could do? He needed professional medical treatment. Not…me. Yet, I was all he got.
“I’ll be fine. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m going to die.”
I swallowed the sudden emotion choking me. The way he said it was more than I could take. It was too…real. Hit too close to heart.
“Fucking hell, Kaylie,” he growled. “It’s nothing.”
Right.Nothing. That’s why he was soaked in sweat and looking like he was about to faint at any second.
“Okay.” I tried to pull myself together. I needed to do this. If I too passed out, there was no helping him. “Do you think the bullet is still in there?”
He let out a sharp laugh that quickly turned into a groan. “Is there an exit wound?”
I blinked, realizing I didn’t know. “Can you sit?” I asked, and he huffed, shooting me aduhlook before straightening, giving me access to the arm.
*
The first-aid kit I stole from the motel proved to be more useful than I ever dared to imagine.
When I was done, Marc slept, or probably more like blacked out, and I woke up on the floor next to the couch with no memory how I ended up there. The last thing I remembered was watching him, making sure he was still breathing. I wasn’t surprised the crazy last couple of hours knocked me out as well.
