Sweet Seduction Sacrifice (37 page)

I struggled, because despite what he'd just done, this was still Brett. And I couldn't see him killing me, shooting me to make a point. He might hit me again, but the way I saw it, I'd rather fight with my last breath than go meekly. I was not his. I hadn't been his for over a year. And I was never going to be his ever again. So, I fought. I punched and kicked and screamed and raked my fingers down his cheeks. And then Lofty stepped in and grabbed my legs, while Brett held me under the armpits and they tried to carry me to the other van.

Luck must have been on my side, because the van was parked a fair distance away. They hadn't planned on me struggling like a lunatic. And my mouth was free so I let them have it. Every swear word I'd ever heard I hurled at him. I screamed bloody murder. There were no other cars in the service area, but the sight we made on the side of the road surely had some of the drivers flying by calling the cops. And I knew, because he'd promised, that Nick was nearby with Ben. If I delayed getting in the next vehicle it might give them enough time to catch up.

It was exhausting, my cheek and head hurt, I hadn't managed to take any painkillers at ASI, too busy getting wired up and freaking out. My back and stomach muscles ached with the effort to twist and surge with all my might. With an almighty bend of my torso one foot came free and I landed a kick to Lofty's gut, he dropped my legs to double over. I used the moment to gain my footing and push Brett off kilter, slamming us both into the tar-seal on our sides. I bit my tongue in the process and my mouth filled with blood, so utilising every tool I had at my disposal, I spat the lot of it at Brett.

I didn't know I had it in me, to play dirty like that, but the fucker had backhanded me, done God knows what to Katie, seeing my blood spray all over his face like that felt bloody good.

"Fucking hell, Gen!" he shouted at me, wiping some of the blood and spittle from his face.

"Fuck you, Brett!" I yelled back.

"Get in the fucking car, bitch," he screamed in my face.

"Die, shithead," I screamed back and lashed out with a kick, from my inferior position on the ground, towards his groin. I'd done something to my back in that fall, getting to my feet fast hadn't worked, Brett had beaten me to it and now towered above me.

I missed his groin too, which just made me fuming mad, so when Lofty wrapped two arms around my shoulders, trying to make me sit still, I threw my head back and connected with his jaw, hearing a satisfying grunt from him as he released his hold and then Brett was on me. Pushing my body back to the ground, covering me with his. His fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing it shut, cutting off my air. I scratched at his wrists and the back of his hands ineffectually. I bucked my body but couldn’t shift him at all.

A gunshot rang out, but my world was getting hazy, the pounding in my ears making me think I had imagined the noise. Then I was up on my feet, being used as a shield by Brett, his arm around my throat, my back to his chest, as he pulled me towards the waiting vehicle. I blinked to clear my vision, trying to make out what he was protecting himself from -
with my body
. It took a second or two, but then I saw them. ASI vehicles, three or four, across the far end of the service area we were in.

I could hear shouting behind us. They had us surrounded, but do you think Brett would give up? Not a bloody chance. He shoved me in the back of the van between the first and second row of seats, climbing in behind me. A gunshot rang out, he grunted and fell forward, landing hard on the floor of the van behind the driver's seat. Lofty was in the front already, swearing blue murder, blood pouring down his left arm. Brett lay motionless on the floor of the van as it swung in a circle, preparing to exit the car park at great speed.

And the sliding door slid open with the momentum, having not been secured by Brett.

I looked at Brett. I looked at the door. I looked out the windshield.

And then I threw myself out the side of a moving vehicle, rolling like they do on TV across the pavement and landing in an undignified
splat
jarring my neck, back and head, and practically every inch of my poor, poor body.

Fuck! It hurt. I had grazes up my arms, through the overalls, on my chin where the tar-seal had met skin and made me bite my tongue
again
, down my left side where I'd rolled unevenly, and all over my hands where I'd thrust them out to stop me face planting completely into the ground. The world spun, my ears rang and further gunshots could be heard.

Heavy boots pounded over the pavement. I rolled onto my back and was ordered by someone to "don't fucking move" and then the sun was hidden behind people. Lots of people. Some of them seemed vaguely familiar, but most of them did not.

"Concussion, multiple contusions, possible fractured wrists," wafted through the haze of approaching unconsciousness, then added into the mix, "abdo and chest clear, pass me a C-collar, No Neck should do. She's bitten her tongue."

Another voice growled out, "Get him out of here, he's just making it worse."

"Just treat her, ignore him, he's not going anywhere."

"I can't see shit if he's blocking my light," a voice at my side ground out and then a sharp stab in the curve of my elbow. "Line's in. Set up some saline."

"Dominic?" I whispered into the cacophony of noise.

"Right here, sweetheart," came his familiar and much wanted voice at my ear.

"Katie," was all I got out before the lights went dark and nothing registered anymore.

I had no recollection of being taken to hospital. Of MRI scans and X-Rays and stitches and dressings and needles and drugs. None. I woke up two days later in a bed with rails up on the sides, the head elevated slightly and woven white blankets draping over my body. Machines bleeped beside me, hushed voices broke through the cloud of unconsciousness and something dripped relentlessly into a tube attached to my arm. And I ached. From head to toe, but especially at my head. My face felt swollen, my lips cracked and my eyes slitted. I licked my lips and squinted into the light of the room.

My Mum and Dad sat in chairs off to the side. Dad in a big blue vinyl recliner, Mum in a smaller padded armchair. They were sipping coffees from take-away cups - not mine - and chatting solemnly in hushed whispers, as if they feared waking me.

"Mummy," I rasped through my dry throat.

"I'm here, Genny-Benny. So's Dad." She appeared at my side, a huge smile on her face. "I am so happy you're awake. Joe," she called to my father, whilst grasping my hand, "buzz the nurse, they'll want to know Genny's awake."

"How long?" I croaked and Mum reached over and lifted a jug of water, then poured it into a plastic cup. She held the cup to my lips and I sipped gratefully, feeling my throat soothe with each minute swallow.

"Two days, hon," Mum replied, understanding my half question and returning the cup to the side table. "They said your brain was resting. You took quite a knock when you hit the ground." Mum's lips pursed together in the recognisable Cheryl Cain disapproval scowl.

I decided I wouldn't tell her how much my body ached right then, she had enough to be dealing with right now.

"Where's Dominic?" I asked, feeling a mixture of sadness and fear that he wasn't here by my side. Although two days is a long time to wait for someone to wake up and he was a busy lawyer with a firm on Queen Street to run, I was also acutely aware that things between us might not be the same ever again. His sister had been taken and harmed because of me after all, maybe he'd woken up to that fact and had pulled away when the opportunity arose.

I wanted to ask about Katie, but Mum had latched onto my question already.

"Dominic who?" she said a little prissily. She knew who, she was just being difficult.

"Dominic Anscombe," I replied. "My..." What was he? Boyfriend? Casual fling? Lawyer associated with my case? "My friend." Yeah, that was original, Gen.

"You mean that man that came in and tried to take over, ordering the staff around and bulldozing his way between your parents and you?"

Yeah, that would be Dominic. For some reason Mum's description of what Dominic had done made me smile. The smile hurt my cheek on the right hand side. The side Brett had hit. My hand came up and cradled my face, trying to make the ache go away.

"Oh, Genny-Benny," Dad said coming up to my side and taking my other hand. "What did that boy do to you?" I don't think he was asking me to catalogue Brett's sins, it was more a question to the universe, an attempt to understand how my relationship with Brett had come to this.

"He's not who I thought he was, Dad," I said softly.

"That he isn't," my father replied, a steely glint in his eyes. I was sure if he had five minutes alone with Brett Elliott, Brett would not be walking pain-free for quite a while.

I sighed. That hurt too.

"I want Dominic," I said pitifully. Then tried not to cringe at having said that aloud.

"We didn't know the man, Genevieve," my mother piped up in her you-will-listen-to-me voice on my other side. "There was no way your father and I were going to let a stranger take over care of you."

"He's not a stranger, Mum."

"He's a stranger to us. We've never even heard of him before."

I did cringe at her tone on that one, she sounded hurt.

"Didn't Jason tell you who he was to me?" I asked, wondering where my wayward brother was.

"Jason is chasing down Brett," Dad offered. "Taken a month off from the Army, called in some markers, trawling the country for the sonofabitch now."

"Brett got shot," I said, suddenly remembering  him lying unmoving on the floor of the back of the van before I did my stunt-woman impersonation.

"Yeah," Dad said pointedly, "and we hope it killed the bastard, but we're wanting to make sure. Your brother will catch him if he's still kicking. Don't you worry about that, Genny-Benny."

I closed my eyes, thinking this was getting entirely out of hand. But the instant my lids shut all I could see was a series of images leading up to my two days of forced bed rest.

"Katie," I said, trying to sit up. Mum pushed me back down with a well placed hand to my shoulder. Even that hurt. "What happened to Katie?" I asked, feeling my stomach pitch and roll.

"The woman Brett took?" Mum asked, I just nodded. "She's fine, I believe. Brett drugged her, she had minor cuts to her hand where she broke a glass cabinet fighting whoever took her, but she's been in to check on you twice. What a lovely girl."

"She's Dominic's sister," I pointed out. "You let her in, but not him?"

"She had every right to visit, seeing as your boyfriend kidnapped her and all."

"Ex-boyfriend," I gritted out, just as the nurse came in and cheerfully announced she was going to check my vitals and could my parents wait outside please.

They acquiesced and as soon as the door closed behind them I turned my attention to the pretty nurse taking my blood pressure.

"Would you please get Dominic Anscombe, of Anscombe, Drake and Kline on Queen to come visit?"

"Dominic Anscombe," the nurse repeated. "I think he's on the no-visit list."

"The no-visit list?" I asked dumbly.

"Yes, he caused some problems on the ward when you arrived and your parents requested he be denied visitation rights."

I felt my anger at my well-meaning parents rise, no doubt the nurse observed the physiological manifestations of that in my monitored heart rate and blood pressure as well.

"Well, I need him," I stated plainly. "Can you take him off the list? Please," I added for good measure.

The nurse looked at me, studied me even, for a few moments, then nodded briefly.

"They won't be happy," she noted. I sighed.

"They've been through a lot, my ex-boyfriend is a psychotic kidnapping, woman beating, money stealing, arsehole. They've shut themselves down to the possibility that I could have a sane and caring male friend at all."

"I can see why, with all of that to contend with," the nurse said softly.

"Yeah," I admitted reluctantly. "What injuries did I have?" I asked quietly.

She picked the chart up from the end of the bed and began to rattle off my injuries. "A very severe concussion, but thankfully no fractured skull. Contusions to your arms, shoulder, hip, elbows and wrists. One on your chin where I suspect you got your concussion from. A laceration to your tongue that thankfully didn't require stitches in the end, but we did need to place stitches in one of your wrist lacerations, it was fairly deep. Bruising to various spots, including that hip. It covers a good portion of your left side. Also bruising to your right cheek. Sprained wrists and left ankle. That about covers it."

I swallowed and blinked several times. Shit. Jumping from a speeding vehicle onto tar-seal was not as good an idea as the TV shows would have you believe.

"You were lucky," the nurse added, "It could have been worse."

And on those words the tears came. I'm surprised they didn't happen sooner, but she was right, as bad as it sounded, I was lucky to be alive. They should put a warning on those action TV shows,
do not try this at home, folks, hazardous to your health
. But what choice did I have?