Page 39 of Closer Than You Know (Vera Boyett #2)

The sound of sobbing penetrated the haze cradling Vera’s brain. She told her eyes to open ... drew in a breath as if it were the first in hours. Her heart started to beat faster. Damp. The air smelled wet ... moldy.

Where was she?

Open!

Her eyes refused.

Her mouth felt dry ... lips. Needed to lick her lips.

More sobbing ...

Was she crying?

Her eyelids fluttered open.

A spot of light high above her head held her attention. Craggy ... rocky. What was she looking at?

A cry of anguish pierced the air.

Vera tensed.

Eve.

Vera attempted to move. Her body resisted. Felt too heavy.

Wake up! Move!

She opened her eyes wider and tried to move her head. It felt like a bowling ball. She forced it to turn so she could look around.

Eve. Her attention settled on her sister’s profile. Some sort of light sat on the ground, providing just enough illumination for Vera to see her sister’s face ... to see this place ...

The cave. They were in the damned cave on the farm.

Eve lay on the raised ledge where they had placed their stepmother’s body what felt like a million years ago. A darker form hovered over Eve.

Patrick. Solomon’s grandson.

Adrenaline shot through Vera, and she sat up as if she’d risen from the dead—her movements disjointed. Determination and an unparalleled urgency roared through her.

He was here ... with them ... torture ...

Fuck!

A scream ruptured the dank air. Eve’s head whipped from side to side in agony.

Vera went completely still ... even her heart seemed to stop. But her eyes widened to see more clearly. Her pulse raced ... heart pounded ... blood rushing through her veins screamed in her ears.

The Messenger always secured his victim’s hands and feet in some manner. And then he made each carefully planned incision in just the right place to exact the most pain.

The remaining layer of fog in Vera’s brain cleared. Rage fired through her limbs, giving them the power to move. Her wrists were bound behind her back. She tried to move her feet, but they were fastened together as well. She peered at them. Rope. He’d evidently run out of zip ties. She twisted her hands and wrists, allowing the movement to reopen the injuries caused by the straight razor Eve had used to cut her loose in the van. She needed the blood to seep down and help with her escape now. She twisted her feet and ankles, tugged with all she had to loosen the bonds. She would get loose ...

The bastard should have started with her. Big mistake.

The burn in her hands and her sister’s cries only made her work at twisting and tugging harder until first one, then the other hand slipped loose. She lifted her feet and drew them back toward her torso. Fingers fumbling, she didn’t relent until the bindings at her ankles went slack. She tugged the rope free, then she rocked onto her feet in a crouched position, using her hands for balance. Eve’s tormented moaning covered any noise she made.

She was going to kill this son of a bitch.

Vera pushed upward. Swayed a little. Caught herself.

She glanced around for a weapon. The cold blade burned against the skin of her ankle. She needed something more substantial.

Something ... like a rock. Her gaze landed on one about the size of a baseball, more oblong than round.

The pounding of her heart thudded in her brain as Vera watched Patrick stoop over her sister. She bent down, closed her fingers on the rock, and picked it up. She weighed it ... tightened her grip. She was going to bash his head in.

She took a step toward him. Be quiet. Be quiet. Then another. Her pulse and heart rate rose with each one.

Just a little closer.

He abruptly wheeled around, the knife in his hand bloody. “Well, well, you’re awake.” He laughed. “Ready to join the party, birthday girl?”

A new rush of fury crowded in on her. “Can’t wait.”

He lunged. Vera stepped to the right and twisted around, slamming the rock into his shoulder.

He hit the ground. One grappling hand grabbed at her, took her with him. The fall onto the unforgiving stony surface jarred her to the bone. A gasp escaped her.

He rolled upward. She threw up her left arm just in time to deflect his knife. The blade sliced through flesh. Stinging pain flashed. She growled and smashed the rock into him again, aiming for his head. The contact with his skull vibrated along her arm.

He howled and toppled over.

A smile tugged at her lips even as pain scorched through her.

A new rush of adrenaline had her scrambling up onto her knees and aiming once more. She hit him even harder on the forehead. Die!

She had to stop him ... had to save Eve. Urgency hammered at her. Hit him again! She readied to hit him again, her face contorted with the effort.

He plunged the knife at her ... she blocked it with the rock, sent the knife flying free of his hand and clattering across stone. Surprise flashed on his face.

Now! Kill him! Do it!

Then she was on top of him, ready to slam the rock into his head one last time. He reached for her throat, squeezed with all his might. Ignore the pain ... ignore the seizing of your lungs. Do it!

She raised the rock and slammed it against his head with every ounce of strength she could muster.

His eyes rolled back in his head. Hands went slack, then fell to the ground.

Relief gushed through her, sucking the fight out of her limbs. For a moment Vera only stared at him to ensure he was down for the count. Move! Move! Then she scrambled up and rushed to Eve.

“Hey.” She surveyed the damage. Dozens of cuts to her bare torso ... her arms. Her top was gone, but she still wore her sweatpants. No blood on her pants, so no damage there, it seemed.

She was alive. Oh thank God! Thank God.

This time the relief was so profound, Vera’s knees nearly buckled.

Eve moaned. Her eyes fixed on Vera. “Did ...” She moistened her lips. “Did you kill him?”

Vera glanced back at the bastard on the ground. “Not sure, but he isn’t moving.” She reached for the blade at her ankle and severed the zip ties binding Eve, then she helped her to sit up. “I just need to get you out of here, then I’ll take care of him. Can you walk?”

Eve stood, her legs shaky. “Think so.”

Thank God. Thank God.

It wasn’t until they were making their way to the cave opening, more slowly than Vera would have liked, that she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks.

They were almost out of here. Just a few more feet. Slowly, they lowered to their knees.

“You go out first,” Vera said, still struggling with the alternating waves of solace and fear. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Her movements sluggish, disjointed, Eve crawled out.

Vera felt giddy that her sister was free ... away from the danger. Now she could escape.

The sting of a blade sliding into her side sent Vera diving away from the threat. She twisted around.

Blood slipping down his face, Patrick drew back his knife and dove for her again.

She dodged the move with a blast of adrenaline. Grabbing for him, she wrapped her fingers in his hair and slammed his head into the rock wall. The knife sliced across her free arm. Pain radiated along the limb. She cried out, but still she rammed his head into the wall again and again until he collapsed on the cold, uneven ground.

Air sawing in and out of her lungs, she watched a moment to ensure he stayed still.

“Piece of shit.” She glanced at the knife lying on the ground and then the blood pouring from her side and her arms. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her sweatshirt. He’d cut her, but not too deep, she didn’t think.

Big breath. She reached for the bastard, then—dragging him by the arm—she crawled out of the hellhole that had haunted her life for more than twenty fucking years. He snagged on rocks, and she jerked harder. She didn’t give a damn if she pulled his arm out of its damned socket. A new massive boost of adrenaline gave her the strength to keep going. The need to end this once and for all kept her pulling, dragging, stumbling.

“What’re you doing?” Eve called, pain in her voice.

“Not taking a chance on him escaping,” Vera said. She wrenched him the last few feet out of the damned hole, then she collapsed onto the ground.

“Oh my God, you’re bleeding. It’s bad, Vee.”

Eve was suddenly next to her. Dozens of little cuts on her chest and stomach oozing blood. Despite the fire and ache swelling in her body, Vera worked up a smile. “I’m okay,” she lied. She wasn’t okay. She could feel the blood leaking from her torso wound faster than she would like. “We have to get to the van.”

They didn’t have a cell phone unless there was one in the van. They needed out of here, and she needed medical attention.

“Help me up.” She held up her free hand to her sister.

Eve struggled to assist in pulling her up. The accompanying discomfort took Vera’s breath. Had her gritting her teeth.

“You are not okay,” Eve wailed.

Vera rode out a particularly nasty surge of pain. Grabbed the bastard’s arm again. “Just get me to that van.”

They took a step, then another, the weight of Patrick’s body dragging at her arm.

“Just let him go,” Eve cried, tears streaming down her face. “We can’t keep going with you dragging him.”

“The only way I’m leaving him behind is if he’s dead.”

Eve’s face went hard. “Then let me kill him.”

Vera stalled. Almost laughed out loud. “Don’t think I’m not tempted.”

“Vee!”

Bent’s voice.

Her body sagged with relief. “Over here!”

Eve hugged her tight and started to sob once more. Vera hugged her back. Grimaced at the pain pulsating through her torso.

They were going to be okay. Bent was here. Thank God!

She stared down at the bastard on the ground. He was still breathing. Too bad, really. Then again, sudden death was too good for him. Let him suffer over time the way he’d made his victims suffer. She wanted to kick him, but she couldn’t find the strength to move her leg. She was fading fast. Everything hurt. Her brain was getting foggy again.

But they were alive. She kissed Eve’s forehead. “Love you,” she murmured.

Bent was suddenly there, pulling her into his arms.

Eric was right behind him. He took care of Eve.

Vera tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate.

A half dozen deputies emerged from the woods and surrounded the piece of shit on the ground.

Vera laid her head against Bent’s chest and closed her eyes.

She was done.