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The sound of heavy footsteps crossing a wooden floor echo from inside the house but is moving away from me. Deever is walking out to the front porch. Moving quickly and quietly, I pull the door open and step inside. It’s dark as hell and I have to creep along slowly to keep from bumping into something or giving myself away. As my eyes adjust to the dim ambient light, I can see Deever out on the porch, pacing back and forth. It’s so quiet, I can hear him muttering to himself.
“Where are you, Lane?” he’s whispering. “Show your goddamn face so I can put a fucking bullet in it, you rich prick.”
I had no idea he held such animosity toward me, but whatever. It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is putting this piece of shit down and saving Lanie. Without her, nothing else in my life even matters. My jaw and stomach clenched so tight it’s painful, I cross the floor of the cabin’s living room in a crouch and am just a few steps from the front door when the floorboard beneath me squeaks. I freeze in place and feel my stomach drop as I hear the shuffling footsteps as Deever turns around.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
All I can see in the murky light of the night outside is his silhouette and the outline of the gun in his hand. Knowing I've got scant seconds to act, I launch myself forward, lowering my shoulder, and drive straight through him. It's a perfect form tackle and I drive the both of us through the railing on the porch.
Wood splinters and cracks as we crash through it, and I come down on top of him as we fall a few feet to the hard-packed earth below. Deever grunts as the wind is forced from his lungs by my weight, but he’s still aware enough to swing his arm, clipping me on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol.
My ears are ringing, and points of light are bursting behind my eyes from the blow as Deever scrambles out from under me. Something in my mind is screaming at me. Move or die. Knowing Deever still has the gun, I jump to my feet, and even though I’m still disoriented, I launch myself at him again.
I hear a thunderous boom and feel a searing pain in my arm. I crash into him and drive him to the ground again. My upper arm feels like it's on fire, but with him pinned beneath me, I ignore it and rain down blow after blow, the sound of my fist meeting his face sounding like a baseball slapping an old leather mitt.
Blood is flying and a wet, gurgling sound is coming from his throat. Deever tries to raise the gun again but a wild haymaker catches him in the side of the head, snapping it to the side and he goes limp. I grab the gun and toss it away then raise my hand to deliver another blow, but the strobing of red and blue lights and the wail of the sirens stops me.
Men jump out of the police cruisers, their guns drawn and trained on me, yelling at me to put my hands up. I comply. The cops pull me off Deever’s still form and stand me up against one of the cars. My breath is labored and my body aches in a thousand different places. But it’s the agony in my chest that drives me.
“I need to get to Lanie,” I shout. “He’s got her in the cabin. I need to see if she’s all right.”
“Just stay where you are and keep your mouth shut, pal,” one of the cops says.
“He was holding her here—”
“I said shut up.”
“No, no, no,” Eddie yells as he emerges from the crowd. “I’m the one who called you. This is Lane Landers—the guy on the ground is the kidnapper.”
An old cop follows Eddie through and nods to the one holding me. “Let him go. The guy on the ground is the one we want.”
He holsters his sidearm and steps back. “Apologies, Mr. Landers—”
I don’t wait to hear the rest of it as I turn and sprint into the house. The door cracks and splinters as I kick it in. Flipping on the light, I step into the bedroom and go cold with fury.
Lanie is tied to the bed. A deep purple bruise mars her cheek, and a thin rivulet of blood is trickling from the corner of her mouth. But she turns her head and a look of relief crosses her face as tears begin to flow.
Stepping over to the bed, I pull a small pocket knife out of my pocket and use it to saw through the hard plastic cuffs. When I finally have Lanie free, she sits up and throws her arms around me, holding onto me the way a drowning man might hold onto a life preserver.
I lean into her and soak it in. It’s the absolute best feeling I’ve ever had in my life. It’s a feeling I want to hold onto forever. I pull off my jacket and wrap it around her, and when she looks at me, her eyes widen.
“You’re shot.”
“It’s nothing,” I say and pull her back to me, breathing a sigh of relief at her warm and very alive body pressed to mine.
“You came for me,” she sobs.
I plant a soft kiss atop her head. “I will always come for you. No matter what and wherever you are, Lanie. I am going to protect you. Always. I love you. I love you with everything in me.”
Her body stiffens and she raises her gaze to me with an inscrutable expression on her face. I didn’t expect to say anything of the sort since those are words I’ve never uttered before in my life. Not to anybody. But even as the last syllable falls out of my mouth, I know it’s true. I love this woman with a ferocity I never knew. I could and I would literally walk through fire for her.
Lanie places her hand on my cheeks as a warm but wavering smile touches her lips.
“I love you too, Lane. With everything in me.”
I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips as the sound of footsteps at the door makes me pull back and turn to the cops standing in the doorway.
“We need to take a statement and get you looked at, Mr. Landers,” the tall and burly veteran cop who’d walked up with Eddie says.
