My Mistake (Stories of Serendipity #7) (26 page)

Her stomach lurched at the thought of Kevin actually living in the same house with an infant. If he was capable of this, what would he do to a baby that cried too much?

“You know we bought a house together?” She nodded, as he seemed to be waiting for a response. “Patricia wanted this amazing house, and my buddy Dan at the bank managed to get me a loan for it. Even with all the shit you left me with.” He ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up wildly. He was lost in his own world now, and nothing Casey could do would snap him out of it, not tied here with a gag in her mouth, so she let him talk. And she was forced to listen.

“Well, Patricia quit working to have the baby, so I didn’t have an assistant, and I couldn’t pay for the house, or the cars…” His fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling at it now. Kevin’s eyes were bulging wildly and his face was red. “Dan foreclosed on the house, after only three missed payments, and the cars got repossessed. I couldn’t show my face at work anymore, and the damned baby wouldn’t stop crying at all hours.”

“I realized what I’d lost, Casey.” She had no idea if he was talking about her or the house and cars, or his assistant. “Patricia threatened to leave me. Leave
me!
I got fired for not showing up for work. I lost everything, and so I came up here to try to find you.” His eyes were pleading with her now, and the idea of doing anything with him revolted her in a way nothing ever had before. “To see if you could fix it. But I found you watching
him
.” He was pacing around the small cabin now, ripping at his hair, while his voice rose into a fevered pitch. He was losing all semblance of reality, and Casey wondered what exactly had made him snap.

“And when you moved in with
him,
I knew I had to do something.” He looked off into the distance, and she saw a faraway look in his eyes, followed by a determined glint she’d never seen before. She felt the terror in her toes. “I knew I had to take you for you to ever be mine. But I had to make him pay, so I fucked with his precious horses…If you wouldn’t come willingly…You’ll see. It’ll be good again, Casey.” He clutched at her hand tied to the corner closest to him. “I got rid of his horses, so he won’t be able to support you. He doesn’t deserve you, Casey. Not like I do.” He was squeezing her hand so tightly, she thought he might break fingers.

A chill of fear passed over her. What did he intend to do to her? She realized he was unbalanced. Maybe he’d realized how beyond his means he’d been living, and something had snapped inside him. She wanted to ask him what had happened, why he’d lost it. She needed to get out of this gag, and try to talk some sense into him. She might be the only person who could.

She pleaded with her eyes for him to let her go, but he only chuckled at her. Standing, he went to his suitcase and rummaged around. “I’ve always liked this cabin, Casey. Something about it just brings out the primitive side of me.” He pulled a brand-new looking hatchet from his suitcase. “Now. We’re going to come to an understanding…”

When he advanced on her, Casey screamed around the gag in her mouth.

Brent didn’t wait for the police. He told them what had happened, that he suspected foul play, he thought Kevin was in town, and gave the best directions to the cabin he could provide. Then he raced down the highway to the turn off he remembered.

Thank god the sign was still there. He remembered making fun of it, and getting a dirty look from Casey’s dad. It had been a bright purple no-trespassing sign posted in front of a nondescript gravel road. As soon as Brent saw the faded lettering, he turned his truck and barreled down the road, spraying gravel in all directions. He remembered it was a long road, the cabin secluded. When he got to a tree that had been freshly cut to fall over the road, he gunned his engine and barreled over it. It wasn’t a large tree, and whoever had put it there, had done it recently. It was still green and the branches were pliable, bending under his massive four wheel drive truck tires. Once he’d gotten over the tree, he slowed his truck to a crawl, and finding a break in the wooded area next to the road, parked his truck. He didn’t want to alert anyone to his presence.

As silently as he could, he crept up to the house. When he saw Casey’s Acura, he took to the trees, hoping to disguise his footsteps as a wild animal crashing through the brush. If anyone was listening, they would recognize boots on gravel. Brent hoped no one was listening.

Please let Casey have just run away.

When he was just across the yard from the house, he concentrated on hearing any noises. A man’s voice came from the other side, and Brent sprinted across the yard, knowing he wasn’t under the cover of trees anymore, and praying there was only one man and nobody else.

Knowing she wasn’t alone kicked his fear for her up a notch.

He flattened himself against the side of the house, and crept to the corner, before peering around the side. He slunk around to the window and peered in. He could see Casey tied to the bed in her underwear, eyes wide and terrified looking.

Brent could hear his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears. The man standing next to the bed had his back to Brent, and he was only about ten feet away. There was nothing stopping him from turning around and seeing him, but Brent was frozen. He couldn’t move, he could only watch events unfold in front of him

He was relieved she seemed to be okay. Sort of. There was a bloody gash on the side of her head, but other than that, she appeared to be in one piece. Brent watched as her eyes widened further at something in the man’s hand. When the man turned his head slightly, Brent recognized Kevin from the pictures in the photo album, and his fists clenched on the windowsill. Brent didn’t dare move now, he stood rooted to his spot, willing the man not to notice him. If he moved, Kevin would see him in his peripheral vision and there wasn’t anything he could do to save Casey from the hatchet.

He couldn’t lose control. Kevin had a hatchet, and was running the blade up and down Casey’s skin, scaring her to death. She was screaming bloody murder around the gag in her mouth, and every cell in Brent’s body told him to go inside and save her. When Kevin’s head turned away, Brent turned and sank to the ground below the window. He had to think, and he couldn’t watch that monster do that to her and think about how to save her at the same time.

Of course, as soon as he turned away, the image was burned into his psyche. The hatchet blade, pressing into Casey’s smooth creamy skin, leaving red indentations as the bastard dragged it up her legs.

He fervently wished he’d brought his grandaddy’s Colt pistol out here with him. Hell, even his hunting rifle would do. His Winchester was in the truck, but he didn’t have enough time to go get it. It was a varmint caliber anyway. It would likely just piss off Kevin before he did something to really hurt Casey. As it was, he had no idea if he was armed beyond a hatchet or not. He had no plan.
Think, man!

Carefully, he raised his head above the windowsill again. Kevin’s back was to the window, and Casey was facing him, which meant she was facing Brent. He managed to get her attention, then put his finger over his lips. He wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.

The recognition in her eyes before they flickered back up to Kevin’s face garnered him a brief respite. At least she knew now that he was here for her. Maybe she could do something while he thought frantically.

He watched as she started to writhe against the restraints. Was she trying to get free? He listened. Christ. She was moaning. She was trying to distract Kevin by pretending to be turned on. At least he hoped that’s what it was.

He watched as Kevin murmured something before his hands went to his belt buckle. Brent decided that now was the time to act. He’d been standing around doing nothing for long enough.

Still not having any plan besides brute force, he crept around to where the front door was, and took one of Casey’s cleansing breathes before bursting in. An inhuman roar escaped his lips when he saw Kevin grasping his cock in one hand while the other still rubbed Casey’s skin with the hatchet. Without giving him time to react, Brent launched himself at the man and tackled him to the ground, the hatchet flying wildly against the far wall.

He shook his head briefly to dispel the jarring sensation of crashing to the floor, and started pounding on Kevin’s face, one punch after another.

His ribs hurt, and he couldn’t catch his breath because he hadn’t stopped yelling since he’d burst in the door, but he was a man possessed. He continued hitting Kevin on the face and head.

At some point, Kevin grabbed onto a chair leg, hurling it against Brent’s head. It was a flimsy ladder backed chair, nearly rotten, and it did as much damage as hitting him in the head with a toothpick.

Kevin reached up and pressed on Brent’s eyes, weakly pressing into the sockets. Brent twisted his face and bit his wrist until he released. Kevin then tried wrapping his large hands around Brent’s neck, but Brent was stronger, and his neck muscles were corded with tension, and Kevin’s feeble attempts were useless, eventually dying down to ineffectual slaps. The whole time, Brent continued to pummel him, not stopping until the man beneath him was a limp bloody mass of pulp.

Gulping ragged breaths, he reached in his pocket for his knife, and unfolded it as he turned to Casey who looked on with tear-filled eyes. He didn’t bother with knots, just cut the gag off her mouth before moving on to her hands and feet. When she was loose, he gathered her in his arms and covered her face with kisses.

Casey clung to Brent, unable to focus on anything else. He was her sanctuary, her life-force. He had saved her from whatever Kevin had planned for her. Right now, he was cradling her face in his hands and kissing her cheeks and eyelids, murmuring shooshing noises at her while she fell apart.

Brent pulled away long enough to rip his shirt off, spilling buttons everywhere, before wrapping it around Casey and picking her up. She leaned into his strength, not having the energy to even wrap her arms around his neck. She folded them in her lap and let her head fall against his chest, as he carried her down the driveway to his truck, which was surrounded by the flashing lights of two police trucks.

“Freeze! Stay right where you are. State your name!”

“I’m Brent Baum, the one who called you.” He muttered to the top of Casey’s head. “Now might be a good time to tell them I’m a good guy, here.”

“I’m Casey Stewart Conway. My ex-husband is at the cabin up the road.” To herself, she muttered. “I hope he’s dead.” She felt Brent’s chuckle rumble deep in his chest.

Casey watched Brent speak to the officers. She wanted nothing more than to go to his house and curl up in his bed, but something told her that wasn’t going to happen.

She was right, the police had other ideas. They put her in an ambulance, and Brent grudgingly complied, leaving her with them to walk down to wherever he’d left his own truck. Once she was tucked into the wheeled ambulance bed, she closed her eyes against the odd lighting of the interior and shut off her consciousness to the incessant noise, willing herself to feel safe again.

T
he next thing Casey was aware of was being flat on her back, covered with warm blankets, and a weight on her left arm. She cracked open an eye and immediately recognized the hospital setting. She had to think to remember what had happened, but her initial panic was eased by the sight of Brent asleep next to her bed, leaning on her arm. His hand clasped hers, and the dark circles under his eyes gave evidence to her suspicions that he hadn’t been sleeping well.

So she let him rest, as her mind wandered to the experience at her family cabin and the realization that she had spent twelve years of her life married to a psychotic. She remembered all of the times he’d touched her and shuddered. The subtle movement woke Brent, who raised his head and smiled a sleepy grin at her.

“Hey there, pretty girl. You feeling better?” Still squeezing her hand, he raised his other arm to stroke her face. A bandage covered a side of his face, and she realized he hadn’t left the cabin unscathed. A shard of guilt pierced her.