Page 10

Avery

“Fucker,” I yelled, observing Max’s twitching body on the TV room carpet.

The man garbed in black, a black balaclava concealing his face, aimed the Taser at me. Charging at full speed, I backhanded the Taser from his hand before he pulled the trigger. It bounced off the carpet somewhere behind me, then I punched him across his jaw.

He stumbled back but recovered far faster than I’d anticipated. He yanked a long knife from the small of his back, and now I was on the defensive. The dude was maybe ex-military, or an MMA fighter, for he was fast and light on his feet. He swung the blade in short arcs, never leaving himself open for attack.

Forced to leap back, I ducked and dodged the knife, the intruder advancing on me with icy, cold gray eyes above the balaclava. He gave me no opportunity to find a weapon of my own –

Until I stumbled over the fireplace tools.

I sucked my gut inward, feeling the blade slice a thin groove across my belly. Spinning, I bent and seized the first object that came to my hand. The broom I’d used to clean the ashes from the hearth. I didn’t care that it was a damn broom. The long handle was made of solid steel, and I blocked his next swing with it. I heard a muffled curse from behind the black cloth, then attacked. Swinging in short arcs as he had, I both blocked his weapon and aimed to either hit him on the head or his wrist, whichever came first.

If I got him to drop the knife, I might just win this fight.

Unfortunately, he was a better fighter than I was.

I swung hard at his head. In a lightning-fast move, he grabbed the handle and tugged. I didn’t let go, of course, but the brief tug threw me off balance. His returning slice went for my throat. I both dodged it and threw my arm up in a defensive move – and his blade slashed deeply into my forearm.

I cried out at the sudden, burning pain, stumbling into the sofa’s back. Bleeding profusely, I tried to ignore the wound as the intruder came at me again, knife lifted for the killing blow.

With my back to the couch, I was trapped.

His body suddenly jerked.

A grunt emerged from behind the balaclava.

He fell to his knees, the knife skittering from his hand.

Jacy advanced on him, her mouth a grim slash across her face, the Taser aimed at the dude. He half-lifted his right arm in a gesture of surrender, pleading, perhaps, for her not to hit him again. She paused, a short distance away, and glanced at me, the blood gushing from my arm.

“Are you –” she began.

The intruder lunged at her from his knees, dashing the Taser from her hand. Jacy cried out, the Taser flying across the room. Without either weapon, the dude staggered to his feet, then ran, limping, for the front door. Unable to pursue him in my current state of going into shock, I merely watched as he yanked it open and vanished into the night.

“Shit,” Jacy yelled.

She seized the Taser and ran after him.

My vision blurry, my head spinning, feeling that I should sit and put my head between my knees, I couldn’t call her back. I made my way to the kitchen, flipped on the light, trailing blood across the carpet and flooring. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped my arm in it and pressed tightly. I managed to sit at the table just as Jacy ran back in.

“He’s gone,” she snapped. “Why didn’t the Taser knock him out?”

Unable to speak, I couldn’t tell her that in some instances, a Taser does little good. For another, he could have had training in which he’d been Tased over and over. Instead of telling her this, I hung my head and hoped I wouldn’t pass out.

“You need an ambulance.”

Garbed in her shirt and undies, she dodged around the kitchen, searching for a cell. Ours were upstairs, charging and unavailable. Jacy seized another towel, then unwrapped the soaked one I had. She rewrapped it and put pressure on the wound herself.

“This isn’t good,” she stated. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

I slowly shook my head. “No. Hospital.”

“You’re bleeding out,” she cried.

“No. It. Will. Stop.”

Already, I felt the blood flow slow to a trickle. The towel soaked it up thirstily but kept much of its original color. The urge to faint passed gradually, and my mind cleared once it was gone. I breathed deeply, but the burning agony didn’t cease with my blood flow.

“Dad!”

Declan charged into the kitchen, followed, on four shaky legs, by Max. Max whined, his ears slack, his tail thumping on his hocks as he slowly walked toward us before flopping to the tiles. Crying, Declan hugged me as best he could, shutting his eyes against the sight of my blood all over the place.

“I’m okay, little man,” I murmured. “Do me a favor, kay?”

His tears running down his cheeks, he lifted his face to mine. “What?”

“Look after Max. He’s not feeling good right now. He needs a bit of pets and love. Kay?”

Declan eyed Max, then nodded. He trudged toward our dog, then sat beside him. He stroked Max’s ears and down his neck, whispering words I couldn’t catch. Max heard, however. His tail thumped the floor tiles.

“Fuck, this hurts,” I muttered through my clenched teeth. “Can you sew?”

“Sew?” Jacy’s green eyes widened in sudden horror. “Oh, no, Avery, you can’t ask me –”

“I am asking you.” I stood shakily. “No hospital. This is a clear knife wound. It’ll be reported to the cops. I don’t want them involved.”

“But –”

Ignoring her protests, I made my slow, careful way across the kitchen, then up the stairs. Jacy followed, silent, but her tension vibrated against my back. In the bathroom, I sat on the toilet seat, then unwrapped the towel. Jacy stood in the doorway, her eyes huge in her white face. The knife had cut a deep gash nearly from my elbow to my wrist, the wound gaping wide. Still, it had stopped bleeding.

“Helluva scar, eh?”

My attempt at levity wasn’t well received. She stared at the gaping wound, her hands shaking. If I could stitch my own wound, I would. But I couldn’t. I needed Jacy. I needed Jacy calm and collected. Right now, she’d jump and hit her head on the ceiling if I shouted boo.

“Look,” I said, breathing heavily against the pain. “In the drawer there. Yeah, that one. There are needles, suturing silk, scissors. Alcohol to sterilize.”

“Avery.”

“You can do this, babe. I trust you. It’s not that hard. It’s like sewing two pieces of cloth together.”

Jacy nodded slowly and found the items I mentioned. My arm would heal faster and cleaner if it was sutured. I needed Jacy to do that. My kind healed fast, true, but trying to heal an open wound would take ten times longer than if I had it sewn closed first.

“Run the silk through the eye,” I said, “then splash alcohol on the needle.”

Jacy obeyed me, her hands still shaking. Slightly alarmed by this, I watched her kneel beside me, then reach for my arm. Her choked sob cut itself off as she pinched the end of my wound shut with her left fingers and lifted the needle.

I dared not flinch. I dared not tense up. When the needle pierced the edge of the wound, the flaring pain all but had me curled up on the floor in a fetal position. My inner discipline forced me to remain relaxed, breathing deeply, despite the sweat trickling down my cheeks.

Thankfully, Jacy didn’t look up. With all her attention focused on sewing my skin together, her trembles ended and little by little, she was able to complete her job. Though I hoped the pain would ease after a time, it didn’t. Even after she finished bandaging my freshly sutured wound, the burning agony continued.

I bent my head and shut my eyes, sweat dotting my entire face.

I heard Jacy wet a cloth, then her gentle touch on my head. She wiped the sweat away, cooling my cheeks and brow, dabbing dried blood from my belly. Her kind care sent my heart oozing down my chest to puddle on the toilet seat. Not the best place for it, but there you are.

Jacy cupped my damp chin in her hand and lifted it until I stared into her eyes. “Never make me do that again. Ever.”

I managed to smile. “No, ma’am.”

“Pain killers? Narcotics?”

“Cabinet. Top shelf.”

She gave me two pills from the bottle. “Antibiotics?”

“No need. I don’t get infections.”

With a skeptical grimace, she helped me to stand. “Bed then. And you won’t move from it.”

As she assisted me toward the door, we found it blocked by Declan. And Max. Both stared into my face as though reading my pain there and sorrowed by it. With my healthy arm, I pulled my son’s face into my stomach.

“I’ll be all right, little man.”

“Can I sleep with you, Dad?”

“You sure can. Max, too. Come on.”

Jacy got Declan and I settled into my bed she’d shared with me until a short while ago. Max, perhaps feeling insecure, hopped up to curl his big body at my feet. I didn’t bother to expel him. He needed comfort, too. Declan cuddled against my healthy right side, and almost instantly fell asleep. Shock, I thought.

“Rest,” Jacy murmured, her fingers stroking my hair from my brow. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Thanks,” I muttered thickly. “Check the doors. Windows. He got in somehow.”

“He won’t get in again. Not this night.”

“Max will help you.”

I saw her quick glance at my dog, his body resting against my ankles, then her soft smile.

“Rest now. He left his Taser.”

“And the knife. But don’t touch it, we’ll need it for prints.”

Jacy’s brow rose, but she said nothing. Instead, she bent to kiss me full on the lips, then briefly rub her nose against mine. “Sleep. You won’t be going to work for a while.”

“I reckon not.”

The medicine began to hit me by the time she ambled to the door, her delicious butt cheeks swaying gently under her tiny shirt. She flicked the light off, and paused to look back, her body silhouetted against the light in the hall.

“This is my fault,” she said. “I need to leave. Or others will come. And you may not make it out alive next time.”

She then shut off the hall light, leaving me in darkness. I despaired even as the pain killers made my head swim, my vision blurry. No, I can’t lose her. Not now. I need her just as she needs me. I can protect her – I can. I must.

I sank into a mixture of sleep and unconsciousness, my pain swirling down into the darkness with me. I dimly heard Declan mutter in his sleep before we both were mired into deep, dreamless slumber. Or at least, I hoped his sleep was devoid of dreams.

As for me, demons chased me through my darkness, nipping at my heels even as I ran in terror.

God, please help us. Please.