Cold-Blooded Beautiful

Lunging for me, he pressed the barrel of the gun to my temple. “You tell me, pet.”

  “Two hundred sixty-five million dollars, David. My father gave up everything to get that money. Do you think he’d share it with you, instead of his own blood?” God. Please let this work. Holy crap, I was making this shit up as I went along. But it was just like dissecting the trauma. Think fast, go through all the scenarios and take the best actions for the wounds.

  “Who else’s fingerprints and retina scans do you need?” The hand that held the gun lowered to his waist, no longer aimed at me.

  Hell yes, it was working. I smiled at him tightly, “My father’s of course.” I slowly slid my hands along the snowy ground, searching for something, anything I could grab to smash him in the face, and then go for his gun.

  “It’s so unlike you to lie, Samantha. Might it be that you like this game we’re playing? I’ve seem to have lost one toy,” he ticked the barrel of the gun in the direction of Aurora’s body. “Maybe I’ll keep you around until I find another one.” He closed the distance between us, hovering over me, taunting, and hunting.

  Psycho son of a bitch. How could we all have been blind to his madness? My hands searched frantically along the cold ground for anything I could use to defend myself.

  Well, hello sharp rock. Meet David’s eye socket.

  Squeezing the rock around my fingers, I kicked out my leg at the hand that held the gun and swung my arm around, slamming the jagged rock into his temple. I saw one second of blood spurt from his head, before I slammed my other foot into his chin. I had no idea where the damn gun was, but both his hands were empty, clawing at his eyes, so I ran. I kept the rock in my hand. The crunch of the snow was beneath my feet, and then the wet dark spongy earth as the snow melted immediately under the heat of the flames surrounding us.

  Under the rush of the fire, I could hear sirens. Under the snapping and hissing of the searing fire raging closer and closer towards us, I could hear…people. That means we’re close to a road.

  We’re close to a road.

  The skies above us clouded with thick choking smoke, and the smell of burning timber singed the inside of my nose. I covered my mouth with the crook of my arm and started fumbling through the brush, praying to get lost in the billowing veil of thickening smoke. Wildfires can move a hell of a lot quicker than me running. And the flames are bearing down on me. Soon, if the flames didn’t burn me, I’d be suffocating from the raging fire that was quickly devouring up all the oxygen. Crackling and popping. Smoke drifting through. A large wall of flames rushed towards us with the deafening sound of a freight train, and I ran. I knew nothing about forest fires. I knew nothing about how to survive in one, so I fucking ran. I ran toward the blackness, where the air smelled cleaner, choking and gasping for breath. My feet hit the blacktop of a road. A road?

  Oh God, I’m on a road.

  David’s loud panting and footfalls right behind me.

  I stumbled, coughing out into the open. I needed to get to someone before David got to me. Through the thick smoke I could make the blue and red flashing lights of an emergency vehicle, but it was too far away.

  Instantly, there was a heavy arm around my waist and I was tumbling into a shallow ditch, my face scraping against the sharp rocks and pebbles that filled it. David’s weight crushed me.

  Then white hot fiery pain.

  I roared some kind of inhuman scream. The pain was agonizing, unbearable. David crawled off me laughing and shoving my body hard against the trunk of a tree.

  Looking down, my brain screamed, when I saw the hilt of that huge rusty knife David had in the cabin. Right into my femoral artery. A kiss of white-hot agony, my entire body felt it, as the pain screamed across every inch of my flesh. As if I was being wrapped in barbed wire and squeezed. Sweat burst out of every pore of my face, and my stomach clenched and heaved violently. Blood poured out of the wound, around the knife, and I knew I had about twenty minutes to live. Fuck. If I pulled out the knife, I’d have less. Fuck. Fuck. I didn’t want to fucking die. I wanted to see Kade. I needed to see him.

  I can’t take out the knife, but I have too. I have to put pressure on the wound. I have to save the leg. I had to stop the blood flood. I have to save the life.

  But, David’s there. Remember? Tears blurred my eyes.

  He slammed his body over mine, causing the knife to angle itself up, opening me more, then laughing loudly, he pulled it out and fucking showed it to me. “Just think about the infection that will set in if you don’t die quickly. Rusty, filthy dull blade. I might have even used it on raw chicken before I used it on you.” God, he was still playing on my fears.

  “And…you still won’t have your money…you weak pathetic…little boy…”

  Through my blurry vision, I could see a pair of headlights in the distance, and way down the road, I could just make out the flashing lights of the volunteer firefighters, trying to fight the monstrous blaze that was torching the trees. But everyone was too far away to hear my screams. To far away to watch as David slammed my bleeding body against a tree and break with his bare hands. I tried to fight him, clawing at his face, with the jagged sharp rock still in my grasp.

  Yet, his hands overcame me. Doctor David Stanton, trained surgeon, with his long elegant hands. Hands with long, graceful, talented fingers, which once saved the lives of so many, were balled up fists of hate and malicious corrupted evil. Not caressing or saving, but, striking, bruising, breaking, and shattering me.

  My brain was at war with my limbs, thinking faster and moving faster than I could physically do; all I wanted to do was find an opening. One where I could get to skin and slice, gut him while he’s still alive. Except I couldn’t, because I could hear my small, shallow breaths, as I tried to fight and felt the bitter agony of every savage strike against my skin. He hovered over me, straddling my body, his weight unintentionally pressed down against my thigh, numbing the burn. I knew he wasn’t thinking straight, because putting pressure against my thigh, even though he was punching me in the face and chest, was actually saving my life by stopping the blood flow. Or maybe he did know, maybe he just wanted me to last a little bit longer for torture.

  The shrill roar of a car sliding and brakes skidding tires along the snow exploded in my ears. I wanted so badly to have hope, so badly, but I knew I was running out of time.

  “Freeze and put your hands where I can see them…” Through the smoke and haze, over the crackling and spitting of the flames, I heard Deputy George’s deep voice.

  Then I heard one last gunshot ring out. It bounced and echoed along the burning trees, drifted like a ghost amongst the smoke. After a raspy breath, a dark chuckle whispered into my ear, “See, my pet, I did have more bullets,” the evil taunted. “But it’s more fun to kill you with my bare hands…” Panting, and coughing from the thickening smoke, his body shifted off mine.

  I wanted to look at my wound. I needed to clean it. Wrap my skirt around it. My vision doubled, my head throbbed and the trees spun around me. Trying to lift my head, his hands were instantly at my throat. I tore, and clawed at them, the warmth of my blood poured down my leg. Shit. The blood ran thick and fast. Need a tourniquet. Need pressure.

  With a singing pain that made me shriek out in agony, I jammed my fingers through my wound, applying all the pressure I could muster.

  Cringing, I looked toward the body of the deputy. God, is he still breathing? Where was he shot?

  “Oh, pet. What is going on in that stupid little head of yours? Are you still trying to save the piggy? I just ripped a hole in your leg, and you still want to save his life?” Pain blasted and crashed up my spine as he shoved my body against the rough hard bark of a tree. Hands released my throat, but panic filled it.

  I look around desperately for anything. Anyone. George couldn’t have come here alone. Fuck, Kade has to be here somewhere.

  “Kade!” I screamed.

  “Oh. Ah…I see. You’re looking for your lover? Lover. That reminds me, pet. Wha
t did he think of my name branded on your skin? Did he need to fuck you with his eyes closed so he wouldn’t see me?”

  The night was black and wet. Smoke and flames stung my eyes. David’s voice was buzzing and humming, but all I heard, all I looked for were exit strategies.

  “Ah, are we playing the quiet game, my pet? Should I make you scream then? I like when you scream, pet.”

  Yes. Screaming. Then they’ll hear me.

  I didn’t have to force myself to scream either, David did that with the next sharp blow. I shrieked as I felt my skin tear, not that it mattered.

  I saw my own blood. It dripped between my fingers fast and thick. My head swam and floated up. And I knew. I knew.

  I couldn’t save me.

  My knees buckled. I didn’t even know I had been standing until they collapsed on the wet snow. Down.

  Down.

  Down I fell.

  But I never knew if I hit the ground. Before I landed, I was gone.

  Please don’t let Kade ever find me. Please don’t let him see me like this. It will destroy him. It’s going to destroy everything.

  Then I waited for death to come.

  But David’s fists came for me first.

  Chapter 17

  Lost in a world of irrepressible dread, I prayed to whatever higher power that would listen as my fingers tightly gripped the steering wheel. The speedometer sat at a steady one hundred miles per hour, yet it still wasn’t fast enough. Grinding my teeth with tension, I muttered, “The snow and frost should slow down the fire. The trees are too wet to stay ablaze. Something else must be burning.”

  With his hands braced against the dashboard and a harried expression, Dylan turned to look at me, “Kade, keep your eyes on the road. Don’t look at me when you’re driving this fast.”

  “This isn’t bloody fast ENOUGH!” I roared, pressing my foot further down against the gas pedal. My truck crept up to one hundred and five and something started clanking under the hood. I ignored the noise. “It’s not bloody fast enough,” I repeated in a strained voice.

  A small hand touched my shoulder and squeezed with what felt like mirrored sorrow. Jen sat behind me, leaning forward, her hand stayed fixed there. A somber and weighty touch. She cleared her throat before speaking. Then she whispered in a gruff tone, “The dispatchers said there was an explosion. Maybe there was an accident somewhere and this has nothing to do with Samantha.”

  “Or,” I snapped, locking my eyes on hers through the rearview mirror, “Or, you could shut the bloody hell up!”

  “Kade, you have to…”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Kade, mate, Jen is just…”

  “SHUT. UP!” I hollered. My head pounded with tension and a heavy knot twisted in my stomach. It was working its way up my chest, ready to wrap its talons around my throat and squeeze the life out of me.

  Mumbles and muttered curses flittered through the truck, until quite suddenly, a heavy silence fell, one filled with intense fear. Through the next break of the trees, we saw it. The horizon. It was on fire. Bright orange flames licked up into the dark sky, reaching wildly towards the stars with jagged spikes. Dark gray columns of thick smoke twisted and spiraled up, staining the sky. White wisps poured over the road. I couldn’t see the road ahead of us, only the faint blue and red flashes of an emergency vehicle’s lights that bled through the clouds.

  I slowed the truck and drove towards the blaze in the sky. Puffs of thick white clouds rolled across the windshield, obstructing our view, and the strong smell of burning pine drifted in.

  The sight of a police cruiser, cherry top lights flashing with its door slung open in the middle of the road, had me slamming on the brakes and skidding across the blacktop. My truck lurched to a stop, nearly crashing into the police car.

  “What the bloody hell is that?” Dylan asked, in harsh whispers. “Is this an accident?”

  No, there wasn’t any accident.

  Accidents aren’t done on purpose.

  In the surging smoke and wind, a large shadow moved, hovering just off the side of the road. A gust of wind noisily blew against the windshield, and in the shadows, David Stanton’s face appeared.

  Smiling.

  Smiling.

  Smiling. A dark motionless shadow of something lay at his feet. Time stilled and the world muted, hushed completely, except for the sound of my erratic beating heart. The smoke shifted, flowed left, and on the ground near the police cruiser’s back tire, lay Deputy George Tatum, sluggishly moving as if he were hurt.

  Automatically, my fingers wrapped themselves over the coolness of my gun. Unconsciously, my empty hand pushed open my door and my body ejected itself from the driver’s seat. Kicking the door shut with my foot, I slid across the hood. The tightness in my chest was overwhelming, and I staggered forward without a care for my safety. I needed to see who was lying at David’s feet.

  The acidic smoke stung my eyes, yet I didn’t stop. The dark unmoving form on the ground was my target. I needed to see who was lying there, on the ground, at David’s feet.

  That couldn’t be Samantha. No. No. Samantha was full of life and smiles. She was not lying still on the cold filthy ground.

  I didn’t want that to be her.

  I didn’t want…

  The pounding in my ears became louder and louder, until it was deafening. My throat burned hotter, the closer I walked. Wisps of smoke swirled around the small figure that was lying in a fetal position. Her beautiful ginger hair splayed out over the black tar of the road, coated with blood. A torn, muddy red skirt clung to her legs, her shirt shredded into thin curled ribbons exposing her bloody beaten torso. Her face was barely recognizable, yet her eyes…her eyes were open, staring past me.

  “Oh, Mr. Grayson, the famous Cory Thomas, it’s nice we finally meet, I was wondering when…” There were no weapons is his hands, and there was no emotion to his voice…

  There was no thought at all.

  This wasn’t self-defense.

  This was cold-blooded, and so well deserved, because he took away my beautiful Sam.

  The gun was weightless in my hand. Flying to a perfect position on its own accord, aimed straight towards David Stanton’s smiling face. Deputy George, crawled toward my feet, face full of blood and mud, but I didn’t care.

  I pulled the fucking trigger.

  Dead center.

  Right between Stanton’s eyes. Dark liquid splashed out of the back of his head, spilling from his mouth, as he collapsed with a thick wet thwack onto the bloodied ice and snow.

  Then I emptied my gun on him, hitting him with EVERY… SINGLE… BULLET. This isn’t a movie. He doesn’t get to have a monologue where he could explain all of his bullshit excuses…this was life and his is over.

  This doesn’t make me Thomas.

  This does NOT make me Thomas. My knees buckled and crashed against the dirt in front of my Samantha.

  My trembling fingers opened. My gun thudded against the muddy ground.

  Jen was on top of Samantha, instantly. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. No. No. No.”

  That’s not going to help her. Empty words. Empty prayers. Empty pleas. I have to help her. Only actions will save her. I have to help her. The flames flickering in the sky above her body made me seriously wonder if God ever cared at all.

  Through dirt, mud, and filth, cold, ice and rock, I crawled to her. It was not over. I would NOT doubt her again. I would not give up on her again.

  Never again.

  Never.

  “DYLAN!” I roared. “Get George! Get George!” I shoved Jen off her body and as gently as I could, I gathered her limp broken body to my chest. “Jen, get in the police cruiser and start it. Don’t forget her aid-pack! Dylan, put George in the front seat and get us to the hospital, yesterday.”

  I carried her to the cruiser and delicately shifted my body into the backseat, keeping her on my lap. Jen slid in the backseat, while Dylan dragged George into the front seat and quickly ran around to the
driver’s side.

  Jen’s hands were on Samantha’s neck, “Pulse! There’s a pulse. Dylan Drive!”

  She didn’t look like my Samantha. She looked like…I can’t even…her leg, her thigh was spurting blood until Jen yanked out the same kind of tourniquet Sam had saved Dylan’s life with months ago. But this time, Jen was using it, and her fingers trembled and her tears poured down her face in rivets, blinding her. I needed to save her. I grabbed the bandage out of Jen’s hands and wrapped it around the flesh I loved, and pressed the gauze into the fucking hole in her leg. I squeezed and squeezed as tightly as I could, and used the Velcro to strap it down. She was pale, so pale, and her entire body trembled and quaked in my arms.

  George was grunting instructions to Dylan and the lights and sirens came on. Sam’s eyes fluttered, her hands grabbed for me, but they slipped and slid with her blood. “Don’t move, baby. It’s me, Sam, I found you. Don’t move at all. Just feel me. Just feel me around you, love. You’re safe now.”

  One small squeeze of her fingers was all that she could reply with.

  Jen sat on top of her leg, talking in small whispers, listing everything she saw, just as Sam would do in her head at a trauma. I lowered my head softly against her chest and listened for her heartbeat. There, in the silence of my mind, was the weakest of pulses. The most beautiful sound I had ever heard. The slow but steady beat of her heart as if under water, and I jumped in, drowning myself in it.

  Chapter 18

  You want to know, don’t you?

  What it was like, during those last moments?

  I know that ache you’re feeling. It’s what I would feel for my patients as they were thrust through the emergency doors. I wanted each and every one of them to live, no matter who they were…no matter what they’d done. I just wanted to take away people’s pain. I wanted to heal.

  Nobody on this earth deserves to endure moments like these, no one. No one deserves to look into the face of a monster and feel pain so intense that they pray for death.