Sacrificing Sloan (Sloan Series Book 3) (3 page)

“I’ll hunt him down.” Ray tried to sit up and groaned. He laid back and blinked a few times at the ceiling.

“Stop it.” I ordered because I could. “You have to take it easy. It might not mean much to you, but you were shot, Ray. Shot. Like with a gun. Yeah. It grazed your head, and yeah, you’ll be fine, but not if you act all revenge-y. The police are looking for them. Or at least they will when it even stops raining. The creek is flooded… everything is flooded.”

Ray—and I could see how much he didn’t want to accept it—nodded and sighed. “You said they.”

Oh. Man. Did I?

“You said they. Who are they? Who else are they looking for?”

My mouth felt like the desert all of the sudden. My tongue was dry like sandpaper, and I couldn’t form words. He had to know, I knew that much. It wouldn’t be right for him not to know, but… I didn’t think I could do it.

“Sloan…” Ray sat up, which I knew had to hurt his head. He never took his eyes off mine.

“I hear some good news.” A doctor, who looked at least twice as tall as me, walked in the door with a smile plastered on his face, as he adjusted latex gloves on his hand. “How are you feeling, Mr. Hunter?”

“Never better.” He kept his eyes on me. I couldn’t take it.

Like a coward, I let go of Ray’s hand and backed away, so the doctor could get in to examine him. “Sloan.” The way he said my name cut my soul, but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell him.

“What’s going on?” The doctor asked directly at me. All eyes in my direction from every single person in that room. Why was it always me? “I don’t want Mr. Hunter agitated. It isn’t good for him. Do I need to ask you to leave?”

“No.” Ray answered for me. “No, she knows something, and she won’t tell me. What is it, Sloan?” He suddenly turned very pale. “Where’s Aaron?”

“He went over the falls.” I said in a very small voice. I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at any of them.

Ray’s monitors beeped faster as the words I said sank in. “He… are they looking for him?”

I bit my lip and looked to Mackenzie for help. “They have to wait for the rain to slack off. It’s becoming the storm of the century, apparently.”

“And… you two are here with me… I’m here.” He threw his covers off and tried to slide out of his bed. The doctor grabbed his shoulders to block him. “Let me go!”

“Mr. Hunter. Calm yourself! You’ve been through a traumatic experience.” He gave a look to the nurse next to him. She nodded and ran out the door.

“Traumatic! Yeah, I’d say it was, and my brother is out there. He needs me. God knows where he is, but he needs to be found.”

“You were shot.” The doctor stated the obvious.

“I’m fine.” Ray grunted and pushed the doctor out of the way. His feet hit the floor before Mackenzie blocked him from taking another step.

“You need to rest.”

“You need to get out of my way.” Never in the time I’d known Ray had I ever heard him talk like that. Aaron? Yeah. He did, but not Ray. Ray was always the calm one. Always the level-headed one.

“This is crazy.” I said and stood next to Mackenzie, blocking Ray from the door. I reached for his hand, and to my relief he didn’t push it away. “Ray, get back in the bed, so we can worry about finding Aaron instead of worrying about you.”

I thought I had him convinced. Maybe I was wrong, but I thought I did. By the way his shoulders slumped and the way he bit his lip, I thought maybe, just maybe.

And then the nurse came back.

And Ray saw the needle.

And things turned ugly.

CHAPTER FOUR

Aaron

N
OBODY HAD SPOKEN IN A GOOD
four hours, which wouldn’t be so terrible, if it wasn’t for the nervous tension it caused between all of us. Now, for my sake, I didn’t care if they ever spoke to each other for as long as they lived. They weren’t my family. I didn’t care about them. But what I did care about was what it did to me.

Because no one was talking, no one was coming up with a plan to get out of here. Because no one was coming up with a plan, we all were sort of stuck. I didn’t want to be sort of stuck. I wanted to be home. I wanted Sloan. I wanted Ray. I wanted my house that wasn’t even much to look at, but it made me happy.

The radio was our only company, and it sure wasn’t uplifting.

The only station we could get was old 70s music, which wasn’t horrible in its own right, but not really the best thing ever to listen to… and the DJ in between sure didn’t give me much hope with the ‘Storm of the Century’ weather reports. Yeah. It was bad outside. Yeah. I didn’t want to be there, but good gracious, there had to be a way out that didn’t depend on us just sitting there and waiting it out.

I needed something.

I had to have something.

I said nothing.

The storm of the century continues to pound Chapel County, specifically the falls area. Rainfall totals expect to hit the seven-inch mark, and that is a conservative estimate. According to some computer models at our affiliate in Nashville, Chapel Hill could get as much as ten to twelve inches of rain. That will cause catastrophic damage. Remember the Nashville flood of 2010? This will be similar in intensity, only the rain will linger longer. The small sunny break we got this morning was the last bit of the yellow stuff we will see until at least next week. Buckle up, guys. This is going to go down in history.

Now… back to the music.

I kept my eyes shut and my head laid back against the little piece of wall I’d claimed as my own, the one I could scoot up and lean against on my little window seat—
thing
. I couldn’t exactly call it a bed because a bed would require an actual mattress. This was more like a bench with padding. It didn’t have my ‘sleep number’ setting.

“Remember the Nashville flood of 2010? This will be similar in intensity, only the rain will linger longer…”
I remembered the Nashville flood. I was
in Nashville for that. Lived there for a few years while my mom tried to get on her feet by working on her back.

We lost just about everything we had in that flood, which wasn’t much, but still… it was bad. I remembered a building floating down the interstate. Not some little shed, either. It was a freakin’ classroom, I think. Or was it something to do with soccer? I don’t remember, but I do remember it was scary as all get out, and if this storm was worse than that storm, it wouldn’t be good for any of us.

The clock ticked as some song I didn’t know blasted over the speakers on the radio. The 70s…well, it could be worse.

A few more hours ticked by.

Mr. Lawrence and Boyd hadn’t spoken since their little spat. None of us had. Mr. Lawrence warmed up some soup for us on the wood stove and gave us some for supper.

Supper.

I’d spent almost an entire day in that cabin.

It absolutely sucked.

I was tired of hearing rain.

I was tired of the awkwardness.

My leg hurt worse than I let on because for some reason, I didn’t want Boyd to know how much he’d hurt me. And he had— he’d hurt me bad. Not that I ever wanted him to know. I’d walk out of this valley myself before I let him know how bad it hurt.

Pride? Yes, but really? He deserved it!

Boyd sat at the table with his legs drawn up to his chest and his fingers in front of his face. He’d move his hand up… then down… then up… then down. His eyes didn’t follow. I wondered if his blindness was temporary. Something had to cause it from the fall, right? Then I decided I really didn’t care. Boyd could be blind for the rest of his life, for all I cared. I just wanted home.

Mr. Lawrence straddled a chair and used a stick to tap the top of the stove.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Besides the clock this was one of the most uncomfortable things I had to listen to. Apparently, I can’t take rhythmic patterns.

I would have said something to him, but honestly, the man looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. His posture was rounded and his head was low. His lips moved every so often like he was talking to someone, and before long I realized he wasn’t just randomly tapping. He was writing… I use the word writing loosely. He was using the stick like an invisible pencil like I used to use my finger on my thigh when I needed to figure out math problems. Funny how you can ‘see’ what you write even when there is no way to actually see it. Sort of like Boyd.

“Time to go to bed, boys.” He said rather hastily, and I was too shocked to say something sarcastic back. Never in my life had a guy told me to go to bed… well, that’s a lie. A few had, so they could have some alone time with my mother… but in the grand scheme of things, it had never actually become the time to go to bed.

“What about the storm?” Boyd asked. I swore I heard a little hesitation in his voice but wasn’t entirely sure what it meant or why.

Mr. Lawrence got up and checked the stove one more time. He turned down the radio, so the sound of the wind and rain invaded our little shack worse. I wished he hadn’t done that.

“Time for bed.” He said again as he settled down with his back to the door. He pulled his old coat up over his body, and in seconds, he was snoring.

I wondered if it was real or if he was just a very good actor because I couldn’t sleep. The pain. The anger. The worry. It all kept me awake.

I kept one eye on the storm rattling my window and the other on Blind Boyd. If I made it through the night without him slitting his old man’s and my throat, it would be a victory.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sloan

12:34 AM

W
HEN
I
SAY THINGS GOT UGLY,
that’s what I meant.

Ray had calmed down. He had. He squeezed my hand, and I thought, for a split second, that everything was going to be okay.

Then Ray saw the nurse.

And he saw the needle.

For some reason he freaked. He started backing away and screaming. The doctor grabbed him. The nurse came running, and sometime in all of the commotion, Ray let go of my hand.

The medicine in the needle did its job— possibly more than it should have.

Ray laid on the bed.

His monitors beeped rhythmically. Slow. Steady. Easily.

Uneasily.

It wasn’t real.

Mackenzie sat next to him and held his hand. Her eyes were wide, and I could see fear in them.

I wanted to tell her that Ray would be okay. I wanted to believe it, too. And I was glad that Ray was resting. I was.

But…

I felt uneasy.

I wanted him to wake up again because, truthfully, I needed to see his eyes. This wasn’t right.

They had no right to do this to him.

I wanted to fall down to the floor and cry. I wanted to hit the doctor and demand to know why he did it. Instead, I sat in the chair numbly and took Ray’s ice cold hand. I didn’t say a word.

My mind screamed.

“How long do you think he’s gonna be out?” Mackenzie asked, as she rubbed her thumb over Ray’s knuckles absently.

Rain pelted the windows, and thunder rumbled. I wished it would all just stop. Just for one minute. One second. One… moment. I just wanted one small amount of time where my life didn’t feel like it was falling apart.

I shook my head and didn’t answer. What they’d done to Ray, what I’d seen… I didn’t want to think about it.

I didn’t want to think about the betrayal in his eyes. He’d looked up at me like I should have stopped the nurse, like I should have protected him like he tried to protect me from Boyd.

At least, that’s what I got out of it.

The clock read 12:34. After midnight. Another day. Another day without Aaron.

Please… take care of him
,
I prayed before laying my head down on the bedrails and allowed sleep to find me.

CHAPTER SIX

Aaron

Two Days Before

“
Y
OU CAN’T LEAVE!”

It had been the same argument for the last hour, since daylight broke—and I use ‘daylight’ loosely. Another day. More rain. From what little I could see through my muddy window to the outside world, the creek was almost knocking on our door. I’d bet by tomorrow morning, it would surround the cabin.

That didn’t make me feel good in the least.

A guy with a broken leg, a sprained ankle, and a big knot on his head shouldn’t be swimming in rough creek waters.

Crap, a guy with a broken leg, a sprained ankle and a big knot on his head shouldn’t be in a cabin in the woods, secluded from the outside world. But there I was… secluded.

I needed help. I knew it. Mr. Lawrence had done what he could to splint my leg and clean my wounds, but there was only so much that could be done in the lovely craptastic cabin.

No, the cabin wasn’t craptastic. In the scheme of life, it was actually pretty decent. One room, but cozy. I could see myself camping there someday.

It wasn’t a place I wanted to hole up in during a storm.

Still…

I had to side with Boyd on this.

“I can!” Mr. Lawrence yelled back. Funny, I never saw Mr. Lawrence as the ‘yelling’ kind. But he was, especially since he woke up this morning. I didn’t think I would, but I did go to sleep last night. I went to sleep and dreamed about
her
. I held her. I kissed her. I told her I loved her.

She was gray in my arms.

Gray.

Lifeless.

Dead.

And I couldn’t accept it.

I jumped awake at about 4:00 and hadn’t slept since.

My body hated me for it. It wanted so much for me to sleep, to rest, to just take a second to breathe. I refused. If I let my guard down, who knew what might happen? I sure didn’t trust Boyd. The jerk tried to kill me twice. Almost succeeded, once. I liked Mr. Lawrence from what I knew about him, but truth be told, Boyd was his son, I wasn’t— and from all the Saturday morning cartoons I watched as a child, fathers always protected their sons, even when they didn’t deserve it.

Mr. Lawrence had his back to us both, frying some eggs and bacon on the wood stove. My stomach growled because I hadn’t felt like eating yesterday. I craved it today. The smell of the ever so lovely bacon nearly drove me mad, and I scooted up in my little bench seat to get a better angle to eat when my food arrived.