Wrecked

  “That’s not her fault.”

  But Cathy had turned around and gone back to the woods, leaving that dead bird at his feet.

  He backed into the house, worry gnawing at him. He’d hidden the bullets in his room, and he wanted to make sure she hadn’t found them. He headed into his bedroom, checked in the bottom of his closet—

  Still there.

  Relief had him feeling a little light-headed. He hurried out of his room but found himself pausing near Cathy’s closed bedroom door. She was outside, so it would be okay to glance in, just to make sure . . .

  Make sure of what? That Cathy doesn’t have more weapons?

  He’d taken the gun. Taken the knife. And . . .

  I need to be sure.

  He opened her bedroom door. Its hinges squeaked. He’d have to oil them soon. He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping around. Cathy liked to keep things clean. Even when she got bloody in a kill, she liked to clean up fast. She—

  A phone was on Cathy’s bed. One of his phones.

  Billy ran toward that phone and saw—

  It’s still on . . . a call is connected. Hell, no! He grabbed the phone as rage washed over him. He slammed it onto Cathy’s nightstand again and again and again.

  “What are you doing?” Cathy cried out from behind him.

  He whirled around. “What did you do?” But he knew, in his gut, he knew . . .

  Just as he knew they were both lost.

  She smiled. “I took him up on his offer.” Then she clapped. “I get to kill the monster!” She looked so pleased with herself.

  She—

  Whoop. Whoop. Whoop.

  He could hear the sound of a helicopter, approaching quickly.

  Coming for them.

  Sad now, he walked toward Cathy. “You won’t kill any monster.”

  “But—”

  “You just killed us.” Because the FBI had tracked them through that call. The helicopter was too close. And Billy didn’t think there was any way to escape.

  Not this time.

  Chapter Twenty

  “What’s the plan?” Asher demanded as he lowered the helicopter.

  “I go in alone and I bring Ana out.” Cash spoke into the microphone. They were both wearing pilot headsets so they could communicate easily. They were right above the cabin. Hold on, Ana. I’m almost there. Cash saw no sign of anyone out there. Were they all holed up inside?

  “Negative,” Asher snapped back. “You’re injured. You’re not up to par. We go in together—and you don’t do any dumbass shit like trying to get yourself killed. Ana will be pissed if something happens to you.”

  They heard a grunt from the backseat. Faye and Sarah were back there—and both were armed.

  “Faye,” Cash said into the headset because she was linked up, too. “You and Sarah guard the perimeter. If you see the perps come out, then do whatever it takes to stop them.”

  “Understood.”

  Sarah was silent.

  The helicopter began to lower to the ground.

  “You love my sister, don’t you?” Asher said.

  “Enough to die for her.”

  “Yeah, well, like I said, let’s try not to do that shit.”

  Whoop. Whoop. Whoop.

  Ana jumped from the bed when she heard that distinct whoop sound. A helicopter. One that was coming closer.

  Whoop. Whoop. Whoop.

  Cash. Cash is okay. Cash is—

  The door to her prison flew open. Cathy was there, with wild eyes and a big smile on her lips. “I get to kill him! He’s coming for you and I get to kill him! He’s going to trade and you’re going to die! You’re going to—”

  “Cathy, stop!”

  Billy yanked Cathy around to face him. He had the gleaming knife in his hand. The butcher knife.

  Is he going to use that on her . . . or me?

  “We have to think of a way out of this, Cathy,” Billy said. “Maybe we can make a deal. We can buy some time, we can—”

  In a flash, Cathy had grabbed his hand. She twisted his wrist—the same way that Ana had twisted hers earlier. And the knife sliced into Billy’s side. Blood spurted out, soaking Cathy, and she laughed.

  Billy staggered, then fell to the floor.

  Cathy stood there, still holding the knife in her left hand. “Look what you made me do!” She pointed a finger at Billy.

  Oh, hell.

  He was shoving his hands against the wound and blood was seeping through his fingers.

  “Get up,” Cathy told him. “Come on, come on, let’s go make the trade . . . Get up!”

  But Billy had gone pale. He was bleeding so much.

  “I don’t think he can get up,” Ana said softly. “I think you cut him too deeply.”

  Cathy whirled toward her.

  “You . . . like hurting people, don’t you, Cathy?”

  The woman smiled. She looked far, far from innocent then.

  “You hurt Billy too much, though.” Ana picked up a pillow that had been on her bed. She was afraid Cathy would stab her any moment and if she did—

  Like the pillow will be much protection. But it was all she had.

  “Billy needs help,” Ana said. “That helicopter outside? Those people on it will help him. Go get them. Bring them to Billy. Get their help.”

  Cathy nodded quickly. “I will! I will!” Her finger swiped over the bloody knife. “But I have to do one thing first . . .”

  “What?”

  “Kill you. You’re ugly, Ana. Ugly.” Then Cathy ran across the room, slashing with her knife. “And I don’t like ugly things. Daddy Jon was ugly. Monsters are ugly. You’re ugly.”

  Cash ran toward the cabin, his gun drawn. Asher was right on his six. There was still no sign of the perps and the house was dead silent. It was—

  A woman’s scream pierced that silence.

  Asher kicked in the front door.

  Cash rushed inside, following the sound of that dying scream. Following it and—

  He burst into a smaller room. Ana was on the floor, fighting with a woman who had dark brown hair. The woman who’d shot him before. The woman was swinging her knife. She’d already cut Ana—he could see too much blood.

  “Freeze!” Cash roared.

  The dark-haired woman looked over at him. She laughed for just a second. “Monster. I’ll get you next—”

  No, you won’t.

  She started to lunge at Ana with her knife. Swiping down hard in an arc that would send that blade into Ana’s chest.

  He fired. The bullet hit the dark-haired woman right between the eyes, a shot that went straight through her head and had her brains—

  Don’t think about it. Ana. Ana is what matters.

  Asher beat him to Ana. Asher pulled his sister off the floor and held her tight. Ana was bleeding. It looked like the knife had sliced her on her hands and arms, defensive wounds.

  Cash pulled her from Asher’s arms and his gaze frantically flew over her. No deep wounds, despite the blood that had terrified him. She was—

  “You’re okay,” Ana said, smiling up at him as her body swayed a bit. “You’re alive.” Her smile trembled. “And you came.”

  He yanked her closer. He held her so tight and didn’t even care about the pain radiating through him. Ana was alive. Ana, his Ana was okay. “I love you,” he rasped. “Ana, I love you. Love you . . .” He kissed her. Desperate. Frantic. So happy she was alive. So—

  “You killed her!”

  Cash whirled at the roar.

  A man stood in the doorway, swaying. Bloody. Tall with dark hair and wild blue eyes.

  “You killed Cathy!”

  Cash made sure he was blocking Ana with his body. That joker hadn’t been there moments before. He’d checked the room. He’d—

  The guy lifted his gun. Cash had holstered his when he grabbed Ana. He’d been so desperate to get to her.

  “You’re going to die now,” the man promised him.

  Cash squared his shoulders.

/>   And Asher stepped in front of him.

  What? What the fuck?

  Asher had his gun out and aimed. “The only other person who is dying today . . . that would be you, hoss, unless you put that gun down right the hell now. You kidnapped my sister. That means I already want to send your ass to hell. You know what I did to the last two men who tried to hurt us.”

  “Y-you killed them . . .” His voice stammered out, but the man didn’t lower his gun.

  Cash pulled his weapon from his holster. Asher might think he got to play the hero, but he was wrong. Cash wasn’t about to let anything happen to Ana’s brother. That would hurt her too much.

  “That’s right,” Asher snarled back. “I did. So drop the weapon or I’ll be shooting you.”

  “I can’t—won’t go to jail . . . I’ve . . . already been . . . in prison . . .” The guy mumbled. “My . . . whole life . . . was prison . . . ever since . . . I was . . . kid . . .”

  “Drop your weapon,” Asher said again.

  But Cash knew the guy wasn’t going to do it. He’d just said he wouldn’t go to prison. I’ve seen this shit before. Men pushed too far. Men who won’t give up because they’d rather die than face justice.

  This guy has already lost everything. There is nothing else for him to lose. Nothing—

  Cash shoved Asher out of the way. The perp wasn’t aiming at Asher, though, and not at Cash, either. He was putting the gun to his own temple.

  “I’m sorry, Ana . . .” the guy said.

  “No!” she screamed.

  He was about to pull the trigger.

  Shit.

  Cash fired, aiming for the guy’s leg. The bullet hit him, tearing into bone and flesh and the man fell, slamming into the floor. Cash rushed forward and kicked the guy’s weapon away from him. “You’re not going out that way.”

  The perp was howling in pain now, bleeding from some wound in his gut and trying to reach for his wounded leg.

  “Cash!” Ana called after him.

  Asher eased closer to Cash. “I’ll keep watch. You take care of Ana.”

  He looked back at her. She’d tried to rush after him, but a damn chain was around her ankle, holding her back. Her eyes were wide and desperate. And she was so beautiful.

  Cash went to Ana. His hand was trembling when he lifted it to touch her cheek. Her head turned and she pressed a quick kiss to his palm.

  “Ana . . .”

  Her lashes lifted. “Get me the hell out of this cabin, Cash.”

  He nodded.

  “And . . . Cash?”

  He waited.

  “I love you.” She threw her arms around him, holding him tight. Her body shook against his. “I love you so much.”

  His arms curled around her. He just . . . held her.

  He heard the thunder of footsteps behind him and Faye’s quick voice—he knew she’d come running at the sound of gunfire. She was on her phone now, trying to get the ETA for the rest of the team.

  Cops and EMTs would be coming soon. “Tell them to bring a fucking blowtorch,” Cash rasped. “A blowtorch, a crow bar, whatever the hell we can use on this chain.”

  Ana squeezed him tighter. She was alive. She was—

  Ana tilted back her head and stared up at him.

  She was his whole world.

  “I knew you’d find me,” Ana said, rolling on the bed so that she faced Cash. It had been twenty-four hours since she’d been airlifted out of that cabin. Twenty-four hours of madness—reporters, police interviews, and even that long denied one-on-one chat with FBI Exective Assistant Director Darius Vail. “I just figured I had to stay alive until you found out where I was.”

  His gaze slid slowly over her face. They weren’t making love. She wanted to, oh, she definitely did, but he was injured—injured far more seriously than she’d realized. When she’d seen him storm into that cabin bedroom, she’d thought he was fine . . .

  Then she’d hugged him and felt the blood soaking his shirt.

  He’d had to go back to the hospital. Had to get more stitches.

  But now he was in bed with her. They were both safe.

  “If you’d died, Ana, I don’t know what I would have done.” His voice was so gruff.

  Her head tilted as her finger trailed lightly over his hand. “You would have been okay, Cash. You’re strong. You would have—”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think you understand how important you are. You keep me sane. You keep me grounded. You give me hope—and when I look into your eyes, Ana, I think the world might not be such a bad place. Because you’re in it. You make it better. You make me better. Without you . . .” He shook his head. “I’d be the one who was lost.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Well, don’t worry, I’m not planning on going anyplace.”

  His gaze slid over her, like a tender touch. “I know we moved fast.”

  She gave him a little smile. “I don’t know. Some would say our relationship started two years ago.”

  “I want to marry you, Ana. I want to spend every day and every night with you. I want to be at your side. I want to see you smile. I want to see you happy.”

  She had to blink quickly. “That’s funny . . . because all of those things? I want them for you. I want to be at your side.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “I want to see you smile. I want you happy. So happy, Cash.” He deserved to be happy. He needed to let go of his guilt. Let go of his past.

  They both needed to bury the past.

  And to start a future. Together.

  “Your brother hates me,” Cash said.

  She waved that away. “He’s coming around.” She knew this, with certainty. “After all, you’re just the kind of man he wanted for me.”

  Cash began to shake his head again, but she kissed him once more.

  Her brother had already told her the type of man he wanted to see her with . . . Someone who will always put you first. Someone who would walk through fire for you. Someone who looks at you and knows just how wonderful you are. A guy who can’t be bought, can’t be threatened, a guy who won’t back down from anything or anyone, not when it comes to you. Because you are his everything.

  Yes, Asher was coming around because he’d seen for himself just what Cash would risk for her.

  His life.

  “I love you, Ana.”

  She would never get tired of hearing that.

  Ana snuggled close to him. The light from the nearby lamp spilled onto them. Sleep was tugging at her, a bone deep exhaustion, and she wanted to slip away cradled in his arms. “I love you.” Saying the words felt right, just as he felt right.

  Finally, someone just for her. Someone who filled all of her dark spaces. Someone who held her in the night and in the light.

  Someone to trust.

  Not just a lover.

  So much more.

  “I love you,” Ana said once more, then she closed her eyes, knowing she was safe. Always safe.

  In Cash’s arms.

  Epilogue

  Dr. Sarah Jacobs stared at the man across from her. His hair was longer, his blue eyes were wide, a bit confused. He wore an orange inmate uniform, though she doubted he’d see the inside of a prison for much longer.

  No . . . William “Billy” Marshall had recently been evaluated by not one but two court-appointed psychiatrists and those guys both had thought that he was, well . . . insane. Though they’d used other words, of course. Nicer, more clinical words.

  Suffering severe posttraumatic stress as a result of his abduction.

  Dissociative personality disorder.

  Intense psychological trauma.

  “Hello,” Sarah said softly after too much time had passed and Billy remained silent. “Do you know who I am?”

  He shook his head.

  “My name is Sarah Jacobs.” She waited, trying to see if her name would ring any bells for Billy, but he just stared back at her. “I work with Ana at LOST.”

  He straightened. His hands were cuffed in
front of him. “Ana?” He leaned toward Sarah. “Is Ana okay? Is Ana—”

  “She’s all right.” Sarah stared at him. “She wants you to answer some questions for me.” Actually, Ana didn’t know about this little talk, not yet. Gabe had pulled strings to get Sarah this one-on-one conversation, an off-the-books type of chat. “She wants to know . . . she wants to know about all the people you and Cathy killed.”

  He stared down at the table. “They weren’t people. They were monsters.”

  Right. That would be the dissociative aspect of his condition. He’d distanced himself from the crimes by dehumanizing the victims.

  “Was one of those monsters . . . Murphy?” Her father. A serial killer. A man who’d slaughtered so—

  Billy’s gaze sharpened on her. A faint smile curved his lips.

  Sarah went very, very still.

  He knows who I am. He knew all along. He’s playing a game with me.

  “Tell Ana . . . come see me . . . I’ll tell Ana . . .” His shoulders fell, as if he were exhausted.

  But Sarah was already on high alert. This man—he was smart. He and Cathy Wise had killed God only knew how many people.

  Once upon a time, he’d been the victim of a horrible crime. After Jonathan Bright’s death, though, Billy had managed to live, to thrive on his own off the grid for years, and to keep Cathy Wise in check. He’d handled her, brilliantly, for so long.

  “They’re wrong about you,” Sarah said as she studied him.

  He kept looking down at his hands.

  “I know my killers,” Sarah said.

  He still didn’t look up.

  “You wanted Cathy to kill them all, didn’t you? Did you help Cathy to break apart? You and Jonathan? Did you work together on her?”

  His head slowly lifted.

  Her mind was spinning. “You were the first one he took. The one he kept the longest. What happened during that time?”

  The other psychiatrists thought that Billy’s mind had fragmented during that time but she . . .

  I think he became a killer. “You were the bait, weren’t you? That’s how he got the others. You brought them to him.”

  Once more, a faint smile curled his lips.

  “You brought them in and then you watched while he hurt them. Until . . . Cathy.” How old would Billy have been then? Seventeen? “You were a man then, so you decided that it was time for you to take charge. To stop following his orders.”