Dawson's Stand (Welcome to Covendale Book 4) (17 page)

Mike exhaled through his nose. “Give me that soda,” he said. “You’ve had enough.”

With a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking, she complied.

He took it almost gently and set it aside. Then, just as calmly, he raised an arm.

The backhand knocked her off the bed.

“You used this phone!” The ringing in her ears muffled his roar, and the heavy tread of his feet as he circled the bed. She tried to move, to crawl beneath it, but he grabbed her hair and yanked her upright. “Who did you call, you traitorous bitch? The police?”

She couldn’t answer if she wanted to.

His fist rammed her stomach, knocking the breath from her. But he didn’t release his grip. “We’re leaving,” he said. “Right now.”

He let go.

She dropped like a stone, curling inward and gasping for air. Even as her lungs burned, she reached out and dragged herself along the carpet. She’d go for the window. Or the lamp, and bash his brains in. Anything to keep him from taking her—because if they left this place, no one would ever find her.

She was almost under the bed when he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back out.

“You’re only making things worse for yourself.” He hauled her up coughing and spluttering, and started dragging her toward the door with an arm locked around her chest. “If you’d just behave, I wouldn’t have to hurt you so much.”

Sudden fury drove away most of the pain. She struggled and kicked, striking any part of him she could reach. Her flailing hands grabbed for anything, knocking a lamp over, digging furrows into the wall. She squirmed lower—and sunk her teeth into his arm.

He howled in pain. His grip relaxed slightly, and she slid free to run for the lamp. He wasn’t far behind. She grabbed it and spun, wielding the lamp like a bat.

At the last second, he half-turned and took the blow on his arm, instead of his head.

Then he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

Without another word, he strode to the door, opened it, and burst outside. She tried to grab the doorframe, but he yanked her through easily and went straight to the car.

Just as he opened the back door, the snarl of a powerful engine filled the parking lot—and a huge red truck blasted toward them, squealing to a crooked halt behind the car.

Her heart stopped as the truck door opened, and Gage jumped out.

* * * *

Gage hit the ground running.

He’d seen her the instant he turned into the parking lot, beating ineffectively at the monster who carried her like a sack of feed toward the red car. His heart soared when he realized she was very much alive—but her ex-husband wouldn’t be for long.

The man was apparently too surprised to react as Gage grabbed her and pulled her away. He kicked the son of a bitch, spinning him around, and set Kyla gently on the ground. “Can you stand?” he said.

She nodded, her eyes wide and panicked. “Gage, look out!”

A split second later, an arm as hard as stone locked around his throat.

“Is
this
who you called?” Mike snarled. “Some brainless, redneck cowboy? I’m disgusted with you.”

“Let him go.”

“Oh, I will. When he stops breathing.”

Gage went limp. The grip relaxed a fraction, and he bent low and flipped the bastard over his head, slamming him on the ground. “Get out of here, Kyla!” he shouted. “He’s not taking you.”

If she understood him, she gave no indication. Unfortunately, he couldn’t worry about that just yet. Mike was already scrambling away, trying to gain his feet. He kicked the man in the side, then tried for a head stomp. Mike twitched back. He missed by a fraction.

The man rolled and sprang to his feet, charging forward. Gage balled a fist and swung hard, landing a powerful blow to his face.

It barely fazed him.

“He’s crazy!” Kyla was backing around the red car, edging toward the passenger side door. “Don’t let him near you. He’ll never let go.”

“Yeah. Got it.” Gage arched back, narrowly missing a blow aimed for his gut. Another fist flew and glanced off his shoulder. He sidestepped, crouched low, and rammed full-force into the man.

Mike went down. Gage dropped on his chest, hoping the crack he heard was something breaking, and drove a fist into the bridge of his nose. Blood gushed from his nostrils.

With an incoherent roar, Mike bucked him off and came up swinging.

Gage couldn’t gain his feet in time. He weathered a storm of blows, forearms crossed in front of his face, until he caught a few precious breaths. Then he dropped and rolled fast to the side. He stood again, panting, and glared at his opponent.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Mike advanced slowly, one hand behind his back. Everything below his nose was a mask of blood, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You put your dirty, redneck dick in my wife.”

“She’s not your wife, you sick bastard.” Gage raised his fists, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. “And you’re not taking her anywhere.”

“Aren’t I?” Mike grinned, flashing a perfect row of bloodstained teeth.

It happened impossibly fast.

Mike’s arm snaked out, grabbed his wrist and wrenched him forward. At the same time, he brought his other arm around in a wide arc. Something glittered wickedly in his hand—a blur of metal.

He realized what it was an instant before the knife plunged into his side.

“
Gage!
”

Kyla’s desperate scream reached his ears as he thumped hard to his knees, and the world swam out of focus.

* * * *

The minute Gage dropped, Mike whirled and headed for Kyla.

“You
bastard!
” she cried, sobbing uncontrollably as she scrabbled for the passenger door handle. “I’ll kill you myself. I swear to God.”

“Really, Kyla. One might think you had feelings for that piece of trash.”

She yanked the door open, reached in and snatched her purse, praying he hadn’t gone through it. “He’s a thousand times better than you,” she spat.

“Well, he’s dead now. So I’m just going to collect my prize.”

No.
She refused to believe that. Unable to look toward the place Gage had fallen, she unzipped her purse and plunged a hand inside. Her fingers found the cool metal can instantly. She gripped it and held a firing position, waited with a pounding heart for Mike to get close enough. “I’m no one’s prize,” she said.

“I’ll agree to that,” he said. “You’re no prize. But you
are
mine.”

“Never,” she whispered fiercely.

She yanked the Mace out, aimed briefly, and pushed the nozzle.

The thick spray hit him directly in the face. She held it down, making sure both eyes were drenched. His mouth opened in a silent scream—and when he raised an arm to shield his eyes, she emptied the rest of the can into his throat.

But he didn’t go down.

He forced his gleaming red eyes open and rushed at her with a gurgling roar. She threw the can at him. He batted it away.

She was too startled to run.

Seconds before he reached her, she caught a flicker of movement behind him. And then a solid figure tackled Mike to the ground.

Gage.

Bleeding and gasping, his lips peeled back from his teeth, Gage fisted a hand in Mike’s hair and wrenched his neck back. He smashed his head against the pavement—once, twice, three times.

Mike shuddered violently, and stilled.

“Mother
fucker,
” Gage rasped and staggered to his feet, one hand clamped against his side. “Sorry. I mean, what a jerk.”

She sobbed. “No, I think you had it right the first time.”

“Okay, then. We’ll go with motherfucker.”

Unable to stop shivering, she moved toward him in fits and spurts. “He stabbed you.”

Gage glanced down. “Just a scratch,” he said.

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, it takes more than that to stop me. I’m stubborn.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head slowly. “When are you going to stop apologizing?”

“When I stop screwing up.”

“Kyla. This is
not
your fault.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He moved closer and put an arm carefully around her. “I told you I’d never give up on you,” he rasped.

“Thank you.”

For a moment neither of them moved. Then she said, “We need to call 911. You’re bleeding, and he won’t stay out forever.”

Just as she finished speaking, sirens wailed through the night.

“Or maybe we don’t need to,” she said. “Did you…”

He frowned. “No.”

A police car swung into the parking lot, lights flashing, followed closely by a dark blue sedan. Both of them slammed to a stop. The police car said
Covendale Sheriff’s Department
on the side—and when the doors opened, Dean Wesley and Nick Donovan emerged.

Jonah and Mark, who’d come in the blue car, weren’t far behind.

“Goddamn it, Dawson, I told you not to engage!” Dean shouted, removing the cuffs from his belt as he ran toward them.

Kyla’s heart twisted painfully. Was he actually going to arrest Gage? Before she could start screaming at him, she realized with a start that Gage was grinning.

“Hey, I didn’t kill him,” Gage said. “So that’s probably less paperwork for you, right?”

“You asshole,” Dean muttered—but he smirked as he said it, and then bent to handcuff the unconscious Mike. Within seconds, he and Nick were dragging her ex-husband to the waiting police car.

Kyla stared at Gage, a question in her eyes. He shrugged carefully.

“Gage!” Mark was jogging toward them, with Jonah lagging behind a few paces. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You go off to fight some psycho, and don’t bother calling us?”

Gage sighed. “It was my problem,” he said. “You keep telling me to handle my problems myself.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean alone.” Mark’s eyes shone bright under the lot lights. “You know we’ve got your back. Always.”

Gage smiled. “I love you too, bro.”

“Damn it.” Mark made a strangled sound, and pulled him into a rough embrace.

“Ow.”

He flinched and let go. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s been stabbed,” Kyla said.

“
What?
” Mark whirled and sprinted for the squad car. “Dean, get an ambulance out here, right now! Gage is hurt.”

Gage laughed, but it turned into a pained wince. “All right, Jonah,” he said. “How’d you guys find us?”

“Albie Switzer saw you tearing past his farm, and decided to follow you so he could report you to the sheriff,” he said. “He called Dean. Dean called Mark. Here we are.”

Gage shook his head. “Dean called Mark.”

“Yeah. Said he might need our…talents.”

“Well, thanks for coming.”

“You know it, bro.”

Gage shivered suddenly. “You know, maybe this cut’s a little deeper than I thought,” he said, sagging against Kyla. “Think I’ll sit down.”

“Oh, God.” She helped him ease to the ground, and sat beside him so he wouldn’t fall over. “I thought you said it was just a scratch.”

“Didn’t want you to worry.”

“I can’t help it,” she whispered, smiling as tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m kind of in love with you.”

His smile was brighter than the sun. “Yeah?” he rasped. “Well, I’m kind of in love with you, too.”

“Then let’s be together,” she said. “Kind of official-like.”

“All right. I’m game for that.”

He closed his eyes, and she held him until the ambulance came. He wasn’t heavy at all—because she had more strength than she’d ever imagined.

Chapter 18

Covendale Hospital was surprisingly cheerful, with pretty yellow walls and flowers everywhere. This was one small-town quirk Kyla didn’t mind—standard hospitals were depressing places.

She paced nervously by the entrance. The receptionist had told her it wouldn’t be long, but the ten minutes that had already passed seemed like forever. If she didn’t hear something soon, she was going back there to find him.

Finally, a doctor carrying a clipboard under one arm approached her. Right behind him was a nurse pushing a wheelchair, filled with an irritated patient.

They’d kept Gage overnight for observation. He hadn’t been thrilled about that.

The doctor stopped in front of her. “Are you here for Mr. Dawson?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “He can go now, right?”

“As soon as you sign this.” The doctor gave her the clipboard and pointed to a line at the bottom. She signed
Kyla Harding
without a second thought.

There was no more confusion about who she was.

“These are his prescriptions,” the doctor said, handing her a few slips of pinkish paper. “Antibiotic, pain medication, a topical ointment. He needs to take the full course of antibiotics.”

“I’ll make sure he does.”

“Mr. Dawson!” the nurse said. “You have to stay in the chair.”

Gage, who’d been trying to escape, slumped back down with a sigh. “I can walk,” he said.

“We have to wheel you outside. It’s hospital policy.”

“Well, it’s a stupid policy.”

Kyla stifled a giggle. “Is that everything?” she said to the doctor.

“Yes. You’re all set.”

“Thank you.”

She went out first, and waited while the nurse wheeled Gage through. He was standing before the chair stopped. “Okay,” he said. “I’m outside.”

The nurse shook her head and smiled. “Goodbye, Mr. Dawson.”

“Later, Veronica.”

When the nurse went back in, Gage turned and beamed at Kyla. “Not that I’m complaining, but Jonah said him and Mark were coming to spring me.”

“I did say I’d pick you up next time,” she said.

“Hey, you did! Does that mean we’re going on a date?”

She laughed. “If by date you mean bed, then yes.”

“Going to bed works for me.”

“To rest,” she said firmly. “You have stitches.”

He sighed. “All right. But there’s something I have to do first.”

Before she could ask what it was, he kissed her.

She groaned softly, returning the kiss with all she had. His arms locked around her waist, and she clasped her hands behind his neck as the heat of him rushed through her. She’d never get enough of this. He’d saved her in more ways than one—and she hoped, at least a little bit, she’d saved him too.