Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2) (32 page)

“You’re not saving anyone this way,” he sneers. I watch as he points the gun at Bentley.

“Wait!” I scream, and he lowers his gun some. “Just wait.” I turn to Bentley and raise my pistol. “I’m sorry,” I mouth before pulling the trigger purposefully and shooting him in the leg. I swing back around immediately and fire at Ezra but only manage to clip him in the shoulder. It’s enough though. I sprint full force at him, tackling him to the ground. I fist his shirt, drawing him up to me and punch his face repeatedly. “Where is Cane?” I scream wildly. “I won’t stop until you tell me!” I repeat my process knowing I don't have much time before the van with backup arrives. A blow to the jaw, a blow to the temple, a blow to the bridge of his nose. Blood splatters me but I don’t care. It feels good hitting him.

“House...” he mumbles, so I stop and wait. “Southern point of Lake Saint Francis.” I pummel his face twice more for good measure before climbing off him and running to Bentley.

“I’m so sorry,” I sob at his handsome face. He says nothing but his eyes say he understands. I turn and jog to the car. He left the keys in it. I punch in Lake Saint Francis on the GPS and take off.

I reach the southernmost part of the lake an hour and a half later. There is only one house for miles. I slowly creep by to make sure I’m not going to be ambushed. Nothing. There are no lights on and only one car in the drive. I park down the road a bit and walk quietly up to the side of the house and peer in the windows. Nothing. The house is empty. I trot around to the front and check out the car from a distance but there are no people sitting it. Where is he? I push through the front door and into a kitchen. I flick the lights on and look around. I slow my breathing down and listen for noises. Faint mumbling. “Cane!” I scream and move towards the sound. At the back of the house is a
three-season porch, and I stumble over something on the floor and fall flat on my face. I panic and scurry to the opposite wall. A pained groan filters through the air. I crawl towards it and reach above the lump on the floor to find the light switch.

Chapter 25

“Cane!” I shriek. He lies in a bloody mess on the floor, is face beaten almost beyond recognition and a gaping wound that looks like a shotgun shot near his hip. I scoop him up into my arms as tears stream down my face.

“Please. Please don’t leave me,” I plead, holding him to me.

“I waited. I waited for you,” he mumbles groggily.

“I woke up every morning to the ghost of you. I love you. I love you. It’s only been six days you can’t leave me again now,” I sob.

“It was always you,” he whispers.
“I’d give up everything for just another second with y…” he gurgles. The sound is repulsive. Visions of blood filling his lungs, strangling him of oxygen, rape my mind. I shriek with horror as his eyes gently close. I shake him violently to wake him up and keep him with me but I know he’s gone. His head hangs limply over the crook of my arm and he’s heavy in my lap.

So heavy.

Dead weight.

I would give up every last breath just to make it all right but it’s too late to go back. My soul feels black and empty. I’m vacant. Destroyed. I try to scoot us backward so I can lean against the wall and hold him but he won't budge. In frustration I slam the floor next to me and he slips from my hold. I take in his body, it doesn’t even look like him. His hip and lower torso look like tenderized meat. His face is swollen with gaping wounds and bloody. His hair is crusty and disheveled. His ankle is chained to the wall next to the door. He never had a chance.

My hands and arms and legs are covered in his blood. My stomach revolts at the sight of it and I vomit all over the floor. Sirens blare in the distance. I don’t want them here. I don’t want anyone to touch him. I thought I could save him but instead I killed him twice. Once his heart and the second time his body. I wrap myself around him and hold on as tightly as I can through my violent trembling. Just let me die. Please just let me die too. I can’t do this again. Darkness seeps through the cracks of my heart, rearranging who I am permanently.

ATF swarms the house, probably sad to find nothing but me clinging to a dead body. Three of them try to coax me away from him but it’s not until they let Aster in that I can move. I wipe a hand across my face to remove tears and snot. I shift from Cane’s body to hers and wrap myself around her. I taste blood, metallic and revolting. It makes me gag.

“Shh. Shh. It will be okay,” she coos into my hair. I want to tell her that it won't. It can’t be okay, but my voice is frozen in my throat. She moves us to an ambulance where they treat me for shock on the long drive to the hospital. I’m so cold.
Hollow.

She holds my hand and talks softly to me the entire ride but I can’t really hear what she's saying. Nothing makes sense. It seems like an indefinite amount of time has passed when I feel the ambulance lurch to a stop. I let the black char of my heart drip into my soul. I don’t want to fight it. Not anymore. The back doors fly open and Bentley jumps up and into the cab and pulls me to him. I don’t have the wherewithal to hug him back. My arms hang limply at my sides as he presses my head into his chest. He’s so warm. I don’t want his warmth. I don’t want anyone to speak. I wish everyone would just disappear and leave me alone.

They move me to a room and treat the various scrapes and lacerations from injuries over the past twenty four hours. My right hand is broken from punching Ezra repeatedly. The nurse works silently to stabilize it. I don’t move. I don’t wince from the pain. I don’t feel as if I’ve even taken a breath.

“She needs
witsec
. Ezra won't stop till she's dead and has connections, even in prison. I promised Cane I'd take care of her. I promised myself I’d keep her safe.” I hear Bentley trying to reason with Aster just outside the room. He sounds wrecked. Decimated. Like my heart. Like my soul.

“No she needs family!” Aster snaps.

“You’re the only one she has who knows she's still alive! It’s better this way,” he barks back at her.

“What will happen to her? How can you think it will be better to leave her on her own? Can I go with her?” Aster breaks down into sobs. All because of me. This is all because of me. I have nothing.

Nothing.

“No. I’m sorry. You won't be able to see her or talk to her. It will be better for her. She will be safe. She’ll be able to start over and be safe,” he promises brokenly.
 

The nurse exits the room and lets them know they can come in now. Aster enters first. Her eyes are streaked with dripping make-up and her clothes are stained with blood, no doubt Cane’s, from me clinging to her. Bentley follows after her silently. His eyes are tired and dark circles rim them. His shirts torn and he’s limping. I follow his gate as he walks to the chair near the bed.

“You barely clipped me,” he says with feigned arrogance. I pull my eyes to his and cock my head to the side.

“I’m sorry,” I say but it barely comes out above a whisper. My throat is tight. I can barely breathe, let alone make a sound. Everyone in the room looks like hell. Because of me. Brock lies unconscious in another state because of me. Cane is in the morgue because of me.

Cold.

Dead.

Alone.

WITSEC suddenly seems like the best idea on the planet. I don’t need anything or anyone. I
should
be isolated. Everyone I care about gets hurt when I’m around.
“Mags,” he shakes his head at me. “It’s alright. You did what you had to do.”
Aster moves to the edge of the bed and sits with me as I sob silently, head hung resting in my hands.

The next morning I am discharged. There is a short debriefing with the ATF before Aster and Bentley take me back to the trailer park. I’ve barely been able to speak let alone stop the tears that refuse to stop rolling down my cheeks. Crushing sorrow envelopes me. I can’t shake it. When we arrive at the trailer two unknown cars are parked in front of mine. Bentley opens my door for me and helps me out. I feel weak and lifeless. Nothing seems appealing to me. I don’t want food, or a shower, or a nap, nothing. The door to my trailer pops open, slapping against the frame loudly. Startled, I look up to find Penny exiting the trailer followed by a thick round black women with warm eyes and graying hair.

“Thank God you’re alright,” Penny says, hugging me tightly to her. I lean into her as Bentley releases me. “We were so worried about you.” Her arms have never hugged me before, I feel stiff and awkward yet comfortably numb in her embrace.

“Hi there, Magnolia, I’m Luellen, Brock’s mother,” the round woman introduces herself. She folds me into a hug and whispers in my ear. “Brock woke up yesterday evening. They expect him to make a full recovery, honey.” My tears double at the relief I feel at her words. Her arms squeeze tighter.

“Thank God,” I mumble into her shoulder.

“He wanted to be here, but, well, he couldn't. I promised him I would come,” she says softly.

“Thank you. Please tell him I love him and I’m so happy he’s back. Tell him no more road trip games.” I smile briefly at her before being ushered into the house.
 

We sat, the odd pairing of us all, for an hour or so, chatting and having tea that Penny made. Well, they chatted and I mostly sat and pretended to listen. My heart and mind were elsewhere though. Once the small gathering was over and Penny and
Luellen left I turned to Bentley, willing my eyes not to shed any more tears. He looks me over with such intensity that I feel like I might implode but before I can even start to squirm he tugs me to him and rests his chin on my head, arms securing me to him. It feels wrong, being in his arms, yet comforting because he’s safe.

“I want WITSEC if I can choose where I end up,” I murmur.

“What’s your request?” he asks softly.

“Blacksburg, Virginia.”

“Why?” he asks.

“I want it, okay?” I snap quietly. I don’t have enough fight left in me to really raise my voice at this point.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he responds sincerely.

“Will I still be able to see you?” I ask.

“No. Well, I’m not supposed to have contact with you once they move you.” His tone is sad and resigned.

“Okay,” I sigh. Now I just have to break the news to Aster. I drag myself down the hall to my room where Aster is trying to busy herself tidying up.

“Aster.” I move past her to the bed and pat the mattress for her to sit with me.

“How you holding up?” she asks, watching me intently.

“I’m taking WITSEC,” I sigh, feeling defeated. Life’s bitch-slapped me in the worst of ways.

“You don’t have to do that,” she protests, albeit rather weakly.

“I do. It’s for the best.” Tears well up in her gold-flecked eyes. I wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her to me. “I love you so hard. So hard. Please, please know that. Remember that,” I whisper sternly into her hair at my shoulder.

“I know. I’ll miss you so much, but I know,” she relents.

The rest of our day is spent packing the few things I want to bring with me and getting my affairs in order while Bentley makes calls and prepares for my departure. By eight o’clock that evening most everything is straightened out and I get a surprise call. Bentley hands me his phone and smiles a brilliant smile at me.

“Hello?” I call into the receiver.

“Baby girl, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Brock booms at the other end. I collapse onto the couch and let relief wash over me. His voice sounds like home. Warm and welcoming.

“Ditto. God, I was so worried.” My voice wavers despite my determination.

“Cane got to me just in time. Saved my life with some first aid, I guess.” Tears trickle down my face. “Heard you’re goin’ away,” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” my voice falters.

“It’s okay, Mags. It’s good. Bent wouldn’t lead you astray. But hell, girl, I'll miss you.”
“I'll miss you too. So much,” I cry into the phone. We say our goodbyes and I hand the phone back to Bentley.

“How do I do this?” I ask of him and Aster, who both stare at me with unsure expressions.

“Without fear,” Aster says softly.

“Adapt or die
Mags.” Bentley’s sandpaper velvety deep voice repeats Cane’s words back to me.

EPILOGUE

He gives a waitress a bill and a note and says something to her. I wish I could read lips. I wait till he walks away before standing and stretching. The waitress runs across the street flailing her arms at me.

“Hey!” she chirps, slightly out of breath. “This guy wanted me to give this you.” She thrusts the note to me. I stare at it like it might contain the secret to life or maybe to death. “Take it, I have to get back,” she urges, wiggling the note at me again. I reach out and take the note from her and shove it into my hoodie pocket without reading it, turn and head back to the gym.