Passion's Fury (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 2) (34 page)

“Copy.  Wait there until Ash gets into position.  Ash?”

“Gettin’ there.  Done tapin’.”  He gave the window pane several sharp taps with his elbow, breaking the glass, making short work of destroying it.  Slowly, carefully, he pulled the sheet of duct tape outward, bringing the shattered glass with it.  He dropped it on the ground, hoisted himself over the window sill and dropped noiselessly to the floor.  Unholstering his HK, he crept over to the bedroom door, pulling his NVG’s down in front of his eyes.  “Okay.  I’m in position.”

“Dwyer?  Sweeney?”

The two FBI agents were standing on the front porch holding a long black battering ram.  Hank Graham and Lou Giordano were behind them, one on each side, pistols drawn and at the ready.  “Just waiting for your signal,” Dwyer said.

Kylie’s blood-curdling scream froze everyone in their tracks.

“Holy Shit!”  Caleb threw all the breakers.  “Gogogogogo!” he yelled into his com link.

Plunged into sudden darkness, the room erupted into total chaos and confusion.  A loud crash outside sent the front door flying open, letting in just enough moonlight for Kylie to see four shadowy, helmeted figures, completely covered in solid black from head to toe, burst into the room, guns drawn.

She screamed again.

With a feral growl, John Bullard hurled the pliers he’d been just about to use to squeeze Kylie’s nipple at the head of the closest man.  It glanced off the man’s helmet with a loud, cracking sound.  He turned, and lunged toward the table to grab the remote that would blow the cabin and everyone in it to kingdom come.  Just as he closed his hand around it, Simon stepped through the basement door and jammed the tip of his pistol into Bullard’s cheek.  Enraged, Bullard lifted the remote and pushed his thumb down on the button.  When nothing happened, his eyes widened.  Staring at it with shock, he pressed it again.  Simon opened his left hand, letting something metallic and looking sort of like long, skinny bullets cascade down to the floor, with a clatter.  Bullard let out an angry grunt and rammed his shoulder into Simon’s solar plexus, his grunt instantly morphing into a howl as he encountered the ceramic armor Simon was wearing.  Immediately the two FBI agents grabbed the detective’s arms and jerked him back away from Simon, yanking his arms behind his back and cuffing his wrists together.  “John Bullard, you are under arrest for kidnapping, murder, drug trafficking, prostitution, illegal gambling, bribery, and a shitload of other charges too numerous to mention.”

Kylie was suddenly aware that yet another silent figure had moved up beside her.  The helmet he wore, with its deeply tinted face shield, covered his head entirely, and those goggle things made him look like a space alien from a video game.  She sucked in her breath to scream, but before she could let it out, the man placed his index finger to her lips.  He hunkered down in front of her and began slicing through the rope binding her left leg to the leg of the chair.  Her eyes never left him as he swiftly cut through the other ropes.  Then he removed his helmet and said, “Kylie,” and her pent-up breath dissolved in a choked whisper.  “Ash!  Oh, my God, Ash, it’s you, it’s really you!”  Her hand quivered as it lifted to touch his cheek.  It was wet.  Why was it wet? Was he bleeding? “How—how did you—he said—”

Suddenly the lights came back on and Kylie could see why Ash’s cheek was wet.  He was weeping.  “I’m sorry, baby,’ he said in an anguished whisper.  “I’m so sorry.  I never should have left you.”  He turned his head, pressing his other cheek against her leg, letting his sobs rip through him.
  Yeah, “letting”.  Like there was any stopping them
.

“No—No, sweetheart—you—”

“Kylie.”  Simon started toward her, holstering his pistol.  Pulling off his helmet, he tossed it on the sofa.  Bending over her from behind, he put his arms around her shoulders and pressed his lips to the right side of her face in a lingering kiss.  He drew back and looked at her.  The left side of her face was swollen and turning purple from Bullard’s backhand across her cheek.  He touched it with his fingertip.  “Jesus, Kylie, your poor face.  I shoulda just gone ahead and blown his head clean off.”

Caleb burst through the open door pausing only long enough to ascertain her whereabouts before making a beeline straight toward her.  “Kylie!  Kylie!  Oh, my God, sugar!”  He fell to his knees in front of her, throwing his arms around her legs and laying his cheek against her lap.  And all of a sudden Ash and Kylie weren’t the only ones weeping.  They all were.

“Thank God you’re all right.  When we heard you scream, we thought—”He broke off abruptly.  Better to leave that thought unspoken.  Giving himself a mental shake, he raised his head.  That’s when he saw the blood.  Her skirt was soaked with it, especially at the top, around her waist area.  “Jesus Christ!”  He gasped in horror.  “You’re bleeding!  That bastard cut you!”

“I—he—”Suddenly swept by a wave of dizziness, she closed her eyes.  Unshed tears scalded her throat.  The chill that shivered through her was bone deep, as though her insides were nothing more than a solid core of ice.

Caleb jumped to his feet.  “Move back, guys.  Simon, get that brain bucket off the sofa.”  Lifting her with infinite care and an aching tenderness, he carried her over to the couch and set her down so gently she had to bite her lip to keep fresh sobs from erupting.  “God damn it, Hank!” he hollered.  “She’s bleeding!  We need to get her to a hospital, stat!  Call an ambulance!”

“Already here,” the state trooper said even as the strobing blue and red lights of several emergency vehicles began illuminating the inside of the cabin as they rolled to a stop out in front.  He grinned at Caleb’s shocked expression, one shoulder lifting in a nonchalant shrug.  “You never know when you might have to switch to Plan B.”  He nodded toward Kylie.  “She gonna be okay?”

Caleb just shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I sure as hell hope so.”

The commotion of slamming car doors and heavy boots running up wooden steps preceded the entry of four uniformed Pennsylvania State Troopers, followed by two EMT’s pushing a gurney.  Looking around, they saw three identical men beckoning to them and wasted no time rushing immediately over to the sofa.  The troopers strode over to Dwyer and Sweeney.  Two of them grabbed a belligerent John Bullard by the arms and escorted him outside while a third read him his Miranda rights.

Caleb gave his friend a baleful glare.  “How far behind us were they?”

Hank’s look was one of chagrin.  “Actually…they were ahead of us.  Remember when I left the restaurant to go out to my car to get my laptop?  I alerted them then.  Told them what was going down and had them assemble and wait on an old logging road about a mile and a half down the road from this cabin.  As soon as we cut through the fence and started running toward the house, they moved to the end of the driveway, waiting for you to shut the power off so they could get through the gate.”  He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled up his phone.  ‘They’ve been listening to our entire conversation over my phone. Look, I know I should have told you, but if anything had happened to any of us, I wanted this guy caught.”  He tilted his head, giving Caleb an assessing look.  “You good with that?”

“Yeah.  Thanks, man.  Glad you thought of it.”  Caleb gave him a nod and a thumbs-up, then turned and went over to Kylie.  He looked down at her, worry prowling in his eyes.  She was so pale,
milk
had more color.  Silent tears slid down her cheeks.

Simon was seated at one end of the sofa with Kylie stretched out along its length, her head resting on his thigh.  Her purple silk dress lay in a ruined heap on the floor.  Something that looked like a dresser scarf lay low across her hips, just barely preserving her modesty.  Ash had stripped to the waist and she was now wearing his T-shirt, which had been pushed up under her breasts to allow one of the EMTs to swab her waist area.  A small pile of bloody sponges lay on the floor by the toe of his boot.  The other medic had checked her vitals and was inserting a second IV line into the back of her hand, one for glucose, one for plasma.

‘Holy shit!” Caleb exclaimed.  “What the fuck did he do to her?”

“He stabbed her!” was Ash’s indignant response as he grabbed his long-sleeved shirt off the back of the couch and thrust his arms into the sleeves.  He began buttoning it with sharp, jerky motions.

“He-he nicked me with the knife w-when he was c-cutting my dress open,” Kylie sobbed, swiping her hand across her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time.  The tears simply would not stop flowing. 

“Some of these are more than just nicks,” the paramedic contradicted, addressing Caleb directly as he continued gently sponging the wounds.  “He used the knife like a hacksaw.  She sustained some deep puncture wounds as well as a couple of gashes.  She’s lost a lot of blood and will need stitches, possibly even surgery.  She’ll definitely need cosmetic surgery down the road.”

Caleb, Simon, and Ash just stared at one another, their expressions bleak.  Every word out of the EMT’s mouth was like a sharp, stabbing blade straight to each of their hearts.  They had failed her.  They had let that motherfucker take her from them and she had nearly been killed as a result.  They would never be able to forgive themselves, not in a million years.

“Excuse us,” the other paramedic said, “we just need to—”he gestured to Kylie, then the gurney.  The brothers stepped aside, watching as the two men lifted Kylie onto the gurney in a smooth, efficient motion that bespoke years of practice.  One hung the IV bags and covered her with a blanket while the other closed their supply box and placed it on top of Kylie's legs, being careful to avoid her skinned knees.  “One of you want to ride in the back of the ambulance with her?”

“Ash, you go,” Caleb said.  “You’re the only one of us who’s not still in tactical gear.”  At Kylie’s whimper, he bent down and placed a loving kiss against her tear-wet cheek.  “Don’t worry, sugar, we’ll be right behind you.”  He held out his hand and she grabbed it, holding on as if she were drowning and it was her only hope of surviving.  “I love you,” she sobbed, looking from one to the other, their faces blurred by a fresh rush of tears that flowed down the sides of her face.  “All of you.  I’m so glad you found me.”

“Darlin’, we will always find you.  You’re our life.  Our heart.  We can’t live without our heart.”  Simon bent and placed a lingering kiss on the opposite cheek from Caleb.  “We love you, too, Kylie.  Never doubt that for a minute.  We intend to spend the rest of our lives showing you exactly how much.”  He gave her a smile through his own tears.  “Be warned, though.  It may be years before we let you out of our sight again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, her smile equally as watery.

Ash’s face hove into view, his eyes shining with relief and love.  “Yeah, you are, baby.  You and I are goin’ to the hospital and get you taken care of.”  He put his hand on her thigh.

All three men walked with her out to the ambulance, never releasing whatever part of her they were holding onto until the EMTs collapsed the gurney and pushed it into the back bay.  One went around to the driver’s door, the other climbed into the bay, followed by Ash.

“We’ll be along as soon as we finish up here,” Caleb said, lifting his fingers to his lips.  He kissed them then blew the kiss to Kylie.  As a gesture, it could have been cheesy, but the sheer alpha masculinity of this man and the intensity of the love shining from his eyes made it so profoundly special, that no one witnessing it would ever forget it.

“Behave, darlin’,” Simon teased, although the love in his own eyes was no less intense than Caleb’s.  “See you soon.  Take good care of her, Ash.”  He closed the doors, then banged on them twice with his hand.

* * * *

Ash looked up as his brothers walked quietly into the room.  Without asking him how Kylie was, they both approached the bed to see for themselves.  She was lying propped up in the bed, sound asleep.  A heart monitor beeped softly in the background, accompanied by the slight hiss of the tank delivering pure oxygen into her lungs through the cannula in her nose.  A drip bag filled with a clear liquid hung on a pole beside the bed, attached to the needle in the back of her hand.  Beneath it, also connected to a needle in the back of her hand, hung another plastic bag, this one filled with whole blood donated by Ash.  She was so pale.  They could see the fine blue tracery of her veins beneath the translucence of her skin.

“They had to take her to the OR,” Ash said quietly when they turned questioning glances toward him.  “Some of the deeper cuts were leaking blood into her abdomen.  They had to give her two pints of whole blood, but she’s patched and stitched and the doctor says she will recover fully.  Physically, at any rate.”

“We’ll get her any help she needs, Ash,” Caleb assured him.  “You know that.  And we’ll love her enough to get her through the nightmares.”

“Yeah, well what about
my
fuckin’ nightmares?”  Ash pushed himself up out of the chair and stood there, fists clenched at his sides, fighting his need to punch a hole in the wall.  Better yet, John Bullard’s face.  “This is all my fault.  I never should have let her go into the store alone.”

“It’s not your fault.” Simon insisted.  When Ash didn’t answer, both Simon and Caleb approached him and enveloped him in their strong, loving arms.  None of them knew how long they stood there in that three-way embrace.  They just knew they hadn’t done it in a long time and they all needed it.

Finally, Caleb pulled back slightly, placing his hands on either side of his younger brother’s head, giving it a slight shake on every accented syllable for emphasis.  “No one is blaming you for this, Ash, including Kylie, and we will not allow you to blame yourself.  We love you and we’re here for you.  Whatever help you need dealin’ with this, we’ll see that you get it.”  His hold softened, became more of a caress.  “Just talk to us.  I know that, of the three of us, you’re the one who tends to keep whatever’s botherin’ you hidden deep down inside.  But you can’t keep this hidden inside you, bro.  It will fester and grow like a cancer and eventually it will wind up destroyin’ not just you, but all of us.”