I Will Not Run (16 page)

Chapter 22

Bruno

I stood over Dom’s body. “Worthless Arsehole.” The son-of-a-bitch was still alive and he didn’t deserve to be. His chest rose and putted into life like a beat-up old car, and then his breath slipped away again and he was still. He’d lost a lot of blood. His eyes were closed so it was hard for me to tell if he was conscious or not. That wound on his stomach looked bad, though. Some of his guts were spilling out.

“Hey,” I said, giving him a whack in the kidneys.

He didn’t move.

“You’re only breathing, you piece of shit, because
I
called my dogs off.”

The Dobermans were lying over his legs, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere, not that he was in any state to move.

“I reckon you should be thanking me.” I shoved him again, keeping my feet away from his innards. No sense in getting blood on these boots. They’re suede and pissy-hard to clean.

“Hey, what’s the story? You plan on stealing my wife, or what?”

It was no good. Dom was out to it, I was pretty sure of that. The blood from the tear in his stomach was leaking onto the grass, turning it red. I wasn’t going to get any info from him right now.

“Stay, boys.”

My dogs didn’t need to be told twice.

It looked like Dom had blacked out but it was hard to be sure. “Keep your mouth shut, arsehole, suit yourself. Winter will cough up, even if you won’t. By time I’m finished with her, she’ll talk. You sleep all you want, pretty-boy. My wife’s going to do the talking.”

“Hooonneeey, I’m hooome,” I yelled, walking up to the shed, using my best horror movie voice. This ought to be fun.

“I know you’re in there.” I laughed, really beginning to enjoy myself.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, or I’ll huff and puff and kick your bloody head in.”

I stopped right outside the shed door.

“There’s no sense in putting this off any longer. Winter, you know what’s coming. Face it like a big girl.”

Silence. The door stayed shut.

“Your boyfriend, he’s not looking pretty anymore. Wanna come out and see?”

Nothing. I’ve never been a patient man and already I’d had enough of this stuffing around.

“Open the friggin’ door. Now!”

I could hear her in there, whining. Whimpering sounds were leaking out of her mouth. I guess it’s true what they say. Once a coward, always a coward.

“You’re making me angry, hon. I don’t like waiting. You know that.” I planted my boot into the door, and the tin shook worse than an old woman.

“Open up. If I have to come in there, you’ll be sorry.”

Still nothing. Okay, I’d had it. I reached for the handle and began to turn. And that was when I heard it, or did I feel it first?

Bang, bang, bang.

The pain in my side, it was bad, real bad. I clutched myself and leant over. The bitch! She’d fired at me, three shots right through the bloody tin door. Two bullets missed but one got me good, smack in my side.

“You sodding troll. I’ll kill you for this.” I gritted my teeth, doubling over.

It took me a moment but I managed to rise above the pain. I snatched the shed door handle and pushed. But the door wouldn’t open properly. There was something behind it, something stopping me from getting in. The cow had barricaded herself in. Blind with rage, wild as a madman, I shoved the barricade away using every bit of strength I had. The door gave. Metal screeched against concrete and the opening grew into a gap.

There she was. The bitch was trembling, looking at me like I was a freaking monster, the gun jumping about in her hand. She shook so hard, I was worried she’d pull the trigger without meaning to. She was shitless, alright. She couldn’t aim if she wanted to.

The phobia, it was crippling her. Ha-ha. But how the hell had she fired the bloody thing in the first place? The gun was hanging now, from her fingertips, useless, about to hit the dirt. I watched a trail of sick slide down her chin, and I don’t mind admitting it, it made me smile.

My side was killing me but I wouldn’t give in to the pain. That could come later.

“What are you so pissed about, bitch? You were the one caught bonking someone, not me.”

She just stood there, saying nothing, waving about like a little surrender flag.

“You’re one disloyal bitch, you know that?” My temper was spiking now, red-hot jets of anger looking for a way out.

My fingers itched to lash out at her. “I’ve given you everything and look how you repay me.” I raised my own gun, tempted to blow her brains against the back of the shed. But then I’d have to cover that up somehow. Best stick to the plan.

She opened her mouth, but no words came. That gave me the idea. Maybe we’d play my favourite little game? Why not? She was my wife. I could do what I wanted.

“Come here, bitch. If you want your boyfriend to live, then you better play good. Put your mouth over my gun. Suck it like you mean it, like it’s your boyfriend’s dick. I want to feel both barrels against the back of your throat.”

Like to see how she was going to cope with this one! “Come on, play along. Don’t make me force you.”

She stood, swaying, about to topple.

“Geez, you’re no fun. Buttercup knew how to play. Shame you’re not more like her, ah? You want to know why she ran off that day? Why she took the keys and sped off over the gorge?

“Because I told her that you and I were through. I told her we were finished. She knew what I was going to do to you and your little sister didn’t want to watch the ending. Isn’t that sweet? She wanted you dead, though, no doubt there because of course she wanted me for herself.”

Winter mewed like a bloody kitten. “You’re lying.”

“Afraid not. She wanted you dead. You can be sure of that.”

Winter’s gun slid from her fingers, bouncing onto the concrete floor.

“Tears now, tears won’t help you, hon.” I shook my head. “It’s too late for tears. I’ve had enough of this. I’m losing patience. I’m not going to tell you again, come out here right now. Don’t make me send the dogs in to get you.”

She was frozen solid, and the tears were running down both cheeks.

“I’m going to count to ten. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven . . . All right then. Have it your own way.”

I fished the dog whistle from my jeans pocket.

“Okay, hon, this is how it’s going down. I’m going to blow but before I do, you can have the choice. What will it be, an arm or a leg? What would you rather lose? I can make my dogs take either one, or both if I want to.”

My bitch wife stood there, shaking her head.

“You choose or I will. Come on, last chance, what’ll it be?”

“Pleeaase,” she whispered, sobbing.

“You have to pay. I caught you two at it. I know what you’ve been doing in there. You just cheated on me, and that’s a very bad thing to do to someone like me. Winter, you have to learn not to upset me.”

She shook her head. “Arm, arm, take an arm.”

“Okay, arm it’ll be. I can work these dogs like robots. Money, it’s a bloody handy thing to have. Even weird little dog trainers like Ant can’t turn it down. With this here whistle, I can make my bad boys do whatever I want. I think you’ll be impressed when you see.”

That hole in my side, it hurt like hell. It was making me clumsy. My fingers, they were sticky from clutching my side, from holding back my own blood. The bitch cow deserved this. She had to be punished. I could blame the attack on Ant . . .
He didn’t train them
properly,
officer
. . .
Ant screwed up . . . I tried to save her from the dogs,
but it was no good
. A decent lawyer could turn this unfortunate event into an accident, either that or he’d make it all Mr Ant shithole’s fault. I didn’t mind which.

I brought the whistle to my lips, but my fingers were so slippery and coated in blood and the whistle was so small. Sod it. I dropped the bugger. I watched it fly forward. The whistle bounced onto the concrete floor inside the shed.

“Piss off,” I yelled, but that bitch wife of mine scabbed around on the floor too, trying to shove me out of the way, trying to get to the whistle first. And then my fingers slipped and the cow had it.

“Give it to me,” I roared, but she only raised her eyes, and then, for a moment she locked on to me and as slowly as the reaper himself, raised the dog whistle to her own lips.

She wouldn’t know how to do it right, wouldn’t know the combination, the sequence of whistles, she wouldn’t know them. They belonged to me,
only
me. I had paid Ant handsomely to program those dogs for my use, and only mine. She wouldn’t know how to blow right.

But she was. She was making the right sound, the right combination—one long blow followed by two short, then another long. The dogs, they were responding to her. I could hear their feet pounding along the ground, their breaths cutting the air, their hungry tongues dribbling.

My dogs were staring up at her, baited and waiting, itching for action. No, don’t let her say the words, not the right ones. Funny the things you notice at times like this. I looked at my boys and saw her boyfriend’s blood caked around their jaws.

She blew the combination again and pointed to me saying the right word. “Savage.”

I’d have to shoot them now. I had no choice. But I’d lost blood, lots of it, and my responses were slowing up. My arm wasn’t as quick as it used to be. I think I knew, before everything went black, that I wouldn’t fire in time. I knew that my boys would be quicker.

One of them had me by the leg and the other was trying to reach my neck. I was fighting him off of course, but I knew I wouldn’t win.

Winter blew again. I didn’t recognise the combination this time, hadn’t heard it before. She pointed and cried, “Kill to end.”

The pain, it was blinding. A gap opened up in my throat. I felt the watery blood rush all over my front. They were hacking me, tearing me to bits. Before I lost consciousness, I looked up at her, willing her to have a heart.

“I wasn’t serious about Buttercup, or the others. You’re the only wife I ever wanted.”

But all the bitch did was give me one last look before pulling the shed door closed, shutting me in. Thankfully, the dogs worked quickly.

Chapter 23

Winter

Sunday, 21st October

It’s been a while. Things have been hectic around here, so I haven’t had the time to write. I’ve been staying in town, sleeping at Mum’s. I spend every day in the hospital though. I’m here now, writing while Dom dozes.

It was touch-and-go for a while. I was terrified I’d lose him but after his op, he rallied and slowly recovered. He can sit up now and he’s just started drinking for himself. He’s going to have one mother of a scar, but he’s not bothered. He was never vain, not like Bruno, nothing like Bruno, not ever again.

I’ve offered Dom plastic surgery, if he’s interested. I’d happily pay. So far Dom has refused my money. He says he wants the scar. He says the scar is part of him, a map of his journey, and he’s not giving that up for anything. A badge of sorts. A reminder of the day he survived and Bruno didn’t.

The police pored over my rambling country home, and of course it became part of the crime scene. My lawyer said that I should have control of everything: Bruno’s money, his assets, and investments. Everything. I’m in no hurry. I’m grateful to be the one left standing. I feel a sense of peace that I’ve never known before.

No matter what, I can never bring Buttercup back. But I have money and a plan. I’m also going to make a sizable donation to The Asperger Organisation in Buttercup’s name.

Ant called in to the hospital to visit us a little while ago. He was carrying a bottle of vintage whiskey with a cigar taped to the glass.

“Hey, how’s he doing?” He smiled at Dom, bringing sunshine into the room. I kissed Ant on both cheeks and he hugged me back. The boys shook hands, no grudges there.

“Thanks again, Winter,” he said, shoving the medicines aside, clearing the tray for his gift.

Ant was, of course, thanking me for paying his fine of ten thousand dollars for selling dangerous dogs to the general public.

“Any news on the dogs?” Dom asks that same question every time Ant visited. “Have they been put down yet?” He’s forever hopeful. He hates the dogs now, wants them dead. But I feel differently. After all, the dogs were only responding to commands. They were doing what they were trained to do.

Ant beamed at me. “Actually, today I have good news. I think the military might be interested in taking the Dobermans. It’s a relief, I’ll tell you that much.”

I grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the bed tray, unscrewed the cap, and poured a measure into plastic cups for Ant and for myself.

“This news deserves a drink.”

Poor Dom, he has months to wait before he could join in, not that he would toast to the dogs survival anyway, hating them the way he does.

“I had some fast talking to do,” Ant admitted, knocking back his first shot. “I had to showcase my control in front of a yard of army men. I had to prove that my man-stoppers don’t kill out of anger. They attack on command only. The dogs don’t get a kick out of killing. What they like to do is obey. For them, it’s about doing their job. They attacked you mate, but only because they were doing what I’d taught them to do—respond to a signal.”

I nodded, agreeing with him, still feeling incredibly grateful. “I might not be alive today if it wasn’t for you and those dogs. If Bruno hadn’t bought your Doberman’s, then he would have found another way to punish me. I could have so easily been killed. Your dogs were my best chance of survival.”

“Yeah, well, I reckon because the dogs saved your life, they saved their own too.”

Dom winced. He couldn’t admit it yet but Ant’s skill and control of the dogs was the only reason I was standing today. But that same training had nearly ended his own life, so he still held it against the Dobermans.

The last few mornings I’ve woken up and pinched myself. I am so lucky. I stopped a psychotic madman and I stopped him from hurting anyone else too. I have no idea what happened to that bag of heroin that Dom planted. I think the cops whisked it away and I haven’t been told anything more. Dom really believed that locking Bruno up was the best way forward for us, but I know better. It wouldn’t have worked long term. Bruno always finds a way out of every situation. Although, not this time.

Dom and I have plans. We are going to put most of Bruno’s money to good use. I have to use it well because I have been given too much, too much of everything and need to share. I have the love of a wonderful man, and I have a loyal and lovely best friend in Ant, and to top all that off, I have money. These are too many gifts for one person to keep.

Dom and I plan to help others. There must be many women and children out there trapped in violent relationships, too scared to run, or unable to leave for one reason or other. I plan on being there for them. I have money and Dom has his psychiatry skills. Together, we want to offer desperate women and children another way of life, a life away from violence.

Ant had plans of his own.

“Did Winter tell you?” Ant asked.

Dom raised his eyebrows at me. “I doubt it. Why, what’s up?”

“The military are interested in my dogs? A special branch of the police is showing interest too. Not just in Omen and Bronx but in all the dogs. But this conversation is strictly between the three of us. As the police head guy said, “Some forms of peace keeping are not for general consumption.”

Dom rolled his eyes and tried to turn over.

I smiled and winked at Ant. “That’s fabulous.” I wanted my best mate to benefit. He had his son to provide for.

I looked at my two favourite men and felt warm inside. Buttercup wasn’t with us anymore, but I’d done what I could to make amends. My husband had treated her appallingly. I had let her down too, but I’ve done my best since her death.

I automatically reached for the gold chain around my neck. It’s not so much the chain that I’m interested in, it’s the small diamond ring hanging off it. The ring is sweet and innocent. It’s the ring Dom bought me, way back when he was twenty-one, living in Sydney and studying at university. He bought me an engagement ring and kept it hidden, and I knew nothing about it. He never said one word, or even hinted. I wish he had. But there’s no turning back the clock.

Dom wants to buy me a big rock but I won’t hear of it. This is the only ring for me.

Once things are settled, once all the legal stuff has been dealt with, and I no longer have to face courts and hearings and judging authorities, then I’m going to let Dom slip that ring onto my finger.

Once the ring is on, it’s never coming off. Ever.