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A large hand gripped tightly around her ankle. Reese screamed as he dragged her out from beneath the tree. “I’ve got a spoon. Very sharp edges. I’ll cut your eyes out before I carve the meat from your bones.”
She sliced at his hand with the box cutter. Hit flesh. Was gratified when he yelped.
Whipping the weapon back and forth, she cut him over and over while he screamed in mingled pain and fury.
Stevie, Stevie, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when I come for you?
He released her. Reese scrabbled away from the tree until she could half lurch to her feet and began to run. She didn’t get more than a few strides before a weight tackled her from behind, taking her to the ground. She thrashed and fought beneath him. He grabbed the hand that still held the box cutter and slammed it against the ground repeatedly until her fingers loosened. She felt the weapon drop and shrieked, a long wail of despair.
Thorne flipped her over. Something metal glinted in his fingers. With his free hand, he pried open her right eye.
“Cord Severin says he’ll see you in hell,” she panted. “You’ll never be free of him. His memory is devouring you.”
“Three minus three is none. Done!” He bent over her. She saw the spoon coming toward her face. She turned her head, and the sharpened teeth stabbed her skin.
A shot rang out. Thorne stiffened. Then let out an inhuman scream of agony. Something fell to the ground near the side of her head. “I’ll gouge your eyes out. I’ll…”
Two more shots sounded in quick succession. The man above her half-climbed, half-fell off of her. He attempted to get to his knees. Failing that, he crawled forward, his elbows digging into the ground.
“Stephen Thorne! Stop! Hands…behind your…head.”
Hayes. His voice, slurred but recognizable, weakened something inside her. For a moment, Reese lay there, muscles frozen. Then she stumbled to her feet. Swung around, half afraid she’d imagined him.
“You shot me! I’m bleeding!” Thorne moaned.
Hayes reached her in a few steps. “Reese! Did he hurt you?”
Something trickled slowly down her face. She was uncertain whether it was her blood or Thorne’s. “I’m fine.”
He moved past her to where the killer lay whimpering on the ground. “I need a doctor!”
“Plenty of doctors…where you’re going, asshole.” Hayes put a foot on the man’s back to hold him prone while he shifted his weapon to the other hand to dig in his pocket for something. “Reese. Come help.”
She sprang toward him, worried about the sway in his stance. But he handed her a little key. “Unlock the cuffs on…beltloop.”
She felt around the cuffs until she found the keyhole and attempted to guide the key into it. The sirens were closer now. Maybe at the facility or close to it. Too late. If not for Hayes, she’d already be dead. Finally, she slipped the cuffs free and handed them to him.
“Hold this.” Her fingers wrapped reluctantly around the grip of the gun, its weight unfamiliar in her hand. Hayes straddled Thorne, who was now shrieking and crying incoherently. He pulled the man’s arms behind him and, with some difficulty, worked the cuffs on and snapped them in place. Then rose, stepped aside, and nearly pitched forward.
“Hayes!” Reese hurried to him.
“Give me that.” Gently, he pried her fingers away from the weapon and returned it to his holster. Then, he sank heavily into the grass. “Just need…a minute. Feel…like boxer in…tenth round.”
Reese knelt beside him, concern chasing away her earlier alarm. “You need to go to the hospital.”
His arm came around her. And for the first time since she saw Thorne in that garage, a stream of relief coursed through her.
“Not…without you. Not going…anywhere…without you.”
39
(THREE DAYS LATER)
Reese collapsed against Hayes’s bare chest, her pulse galloping like a racehorse in the home stretch. His heart thundered beneath her ear, making her lips curve, even as her lungs heaved. He was addictive. The fever in her blood had been vanquished for the moment, but it took so little to spike again.
“I think I’ve gone blind.”
It took effort to glance up at him. “Your eyes are closed.”