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The first thing I saw as I entered the pitifully small shack was my beautiful girl laid out, tied to a wooden table. She was completely naked, and it appeared that she had put up quite a struggle. The ropes had rubbed her skin raw, and then was blood where the rough fibers were pressing tightly against her delicate flesh. Her chest was heaving, and there were sounds of distress coming from her. It wasn’t until my eyes took in the man hovering above her head that I noticed the knife he was holding that was still embedded in her chest.
“Fuck! Dollface—“ Brent moved as if to go for her when the asshole pulled a gun out from behind his back and pointed it at Brent.
“Stay back!” His scream had spittle flying from his mouth. His eyes were wild as he stared at us in shock.
“Brent,” I warned in a low tone. “Step back.” I flashed my eyes between the gun that hadn’t left its target and the knife that was piercing Casey’s clavicle, filling me with concern for its location. I didn’t think it was close enough to her heart, but, fuck, I was trying to think back to any biology lesson I’d had to remember where all the arteries were in a human body.
I tore my eyes away from the blood that had pooled around the knife and took in the man that was the cause of so much pain and heartbreak for so many people. He was nondescript with little notable about him. Average height, average build, brown hair, brown eyes. Much like all the men that Brent meted out justice to.
“You have nowhere to go, and you can’t take out both of us,” I warned. “It’s over.”
He slid his panicked gaze over to me, and before I could react, he yanked the knife out with a hard jerk. Casey screamed out as Brent took a step forward, his hand reaching toward her. The loud sound of a gunshot had my ears ringing as anguish filled me. My heart stopped, and I watched in horror as Brent clutched at his stomach, redness already seeping to cover his t-shirt.
Through the haze of disbelief, I heard Casey’s screams turn from those of pain to those of fright. “Please, please don’t hurt them! Kill me instead! Kill me! Please. Please. Please don’t hurt them!”
Brent dropped to one knee. One hand still covering his wound and the other bracing himself on the floor. His head was down as he breathed through the pain. I wanted desperately to go to him. Motionless, I didn’t know who to go to, I needed to see to both of them, but I couldn’t move. I was sure the only thing that was keeping them alive was the gun I was holding, pointed right at the Castle Killer.
I swallowed hard. “Brent? Brent, talk to me.” I couldn’t help the pleading in my tone.
He grunted, swaying in place and looking like he was about to fall over.
“B-Brent? Is Brent okay? Ethan!” Casey was crying hysterically, not even seeming to notice that the killer had placed his bloody knife at her throat, digging it in.
I watch the small trickle of blood sliding down her pale skin. “He's fine, sugar. It will be okay. Calm down for me, love. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Don’t call her that!” The man screamed in outrage and turned his gun from Brent’s form that was slumped over, to me.
“What? Don’t call her love?” I asked without flinching. “But I do love her. Brent and I are going to marry her, and we will have a beautiful life together. She’s going to be the mother of our children. And twenty years from now, no one will remember you existed.”
He roared in anger, and so many things happened at once I could barely make sense of it all.
Thirty-Five
BRENT
Fuck,that hurt.
Fiery pain exploded through my system from the motherfucking bullet wound as I pressed hard against my abdomen and cursed under my breath. I tapped my fingers on the wooden boards that made up the shack floor, knowing that Ethan would see. It had been a long fucking time since we had played a game of football together, but I knew he hadn’t forgotten. We were the goddamn dream team. There wasn’t a play that we couldn’t win together because we had learned how to communicate.
I moved the fingers I had braced against the floor, doing my best to make sure he would understand what I was trying to tell him. I had to pause as my vision went black for a second, and I had to breathe through the pain. I panted and then repeated the gestures again once I could continue.
Ethan tapped his foot the same as he used to when he was the quarterback and was ready for the next play to begin. I hung my head as the relief washed over me. I tensed my body in preparation, biting back the instant sharp pain that stabbed through my abdomen. And waited.
Seemingly from nowhere, a commotion sounded outside the door as several feet ran up the porch steps and through the open doorway. There was another gunshot and a scream of pain. Not taking the time to see where it came from or who had been shot, I launched myself forward, both arms extended, ready to wrap them around the asshole and tackle him to the ground.
Unable to get the full movement I had hoped for, I did manage to get a good grip around his hips and, with all the strength I could muster, pushed him backward until our bodies had nowhere else to go. Through the fog of pain that took over my senses, I heard the clatter of the knife as it fell to the floor beside my head and the heavy thud of the gun as it hit the floor. Another shot boomed out next to my ear, and then I couldn’t hear anything but a sharp ringing as my vision blurred, and the pain in my stomach almost made me vomit.
I rolled onto my back, but when the pain threatened to overwhelm me, I curled into a ball. Hands began to run over me, trying to turn me back over, but I shoved them away, only to have them come back. Slowly, sounds other than ringing began to filter back in. I cracked my eyes open to see Ethan above me, his mouth moving and looking frantic.
“Brent! Can you hear me?” Brent!”
“Dollface?” was all I could rasp out. Ethan was obviously okay, but was our girl? She’d had a knife held to her neck and already had a stab wound. Did my attack make things worse? Oh god! What if I’d caused the knife to dig in deeper and slice her throat open? I needed to get up. I shoved at Ethan, needing space to get to my feet. I fought through nausea and weakness while Ethan stood next to me and grasped me by the arms, lending me his strength and helping me to stand.
I staggered to my feet and leaned heavily against the table, ignoring Ethan’s muttered curses about me being a stubborn son of a bitch. I glanced back down at the floor to see the killer lying at an odd angle with his head at the base of the wall and the rest of him on the floor. There was a puddle of blood coming from his head, expanding along the floor at a steady rate. I would have spit on his body, if I could. Turning away from him to what was really important, my eyes took in Casey as she lay there silent and still, blood covering most of her chest.
“Dollface?” My words were dragged from my chest as I choked them out. “No…” I hovered my hand over the main source of all the blood, ignoring the fact that my hand was as bloody as her chest.
Movement caught my attention, and I stiffened, looking up to see one of the other detectives that worked with Ethan. I vaguely remembered her from high school as a cheerleader or something, but didn’t give enough of a fuck at the minute to try to remember. I relaxed as I saw her bend down and pick up the knife that had fallen to the ground, and quickly but carefully started sawing the ropes that were binding Casey to the table.
