Taken - Before her very Eyes (13 page)

“Shit!” He grabbed the small
pouch of belongings and ran around the corner and out into the hall, but John
Scott was gone.

****

Nate didn’t know if he was doing
the right thing or not, but he slid open the drawer marked with Summer’s name
and stared at the newly issued badge and gun. She’d never worn either since the
night John Scott had stripped her of her old ones. There was hatred bubbling inside
at the mere thought of that fucker laying a hand on Summer and he would never
forget the day he found her. The image of her small naked body, battered and
bruised, covered with blood, clawing up the side of the weed choked ditch was
enough to make him sick.

Summer never did anything to
deserve what he’d done to her. The amount of physical damage was so massive
that he didn’t think she’d survive for a single day. It had only been a matter
of twenty-four hours that she’d been stolen away from him, desecrated, then
left to die like a wounded animal on the side of the roadway.

Nate reached into the drawer,
withdrew Summer’s service revolver and clip of ammunition. The cold steel felt
good in his hand and he wondered if he should just walk into that interrogation
room and sink every bullet into that fucker’s skull.

What did he have to lose? His
wife left four years ago. Packed up, left in the middle of the night and moved
across the country. The last he’d heard, she was shacked up with some other
guy, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered to waste another thought on
someone who’d left without saying goodbye. Besides, he had Summer as a partner.
What else could he ask for? She was ten times prettier than Julie, and despite
her tough exterior, he saw Summer for what she really was, a beautiful, caring
woman who didn’t seem to realize just how captivating her appearance was. She
knew she was a looker, but he doubted that she really understood exactly how
she made him feel.

Even without any chance of a
sexual relationship, he still counted himself lucky just to spend time with
her.

Nate shook his head and tucked
the gun in his ankle holster. He could get in a lot of trouble for this, but
hell, he owed Summer so much more. He’d never forget that day he ran off into
the woods after the hit and run driver, leaving Summer alone with John Scott.
How could he ever forget? How could he have left her alone? Why did he always
have to be the hero and capture the criminals? Why couldn’t he have stayed at
the scene of the accident and let the other cops try to track the runner down?

Nate slammed the drawer shut and
pounded his fist on the top of the cabinet. If only he’d stayed at the scene,
he and Summer would be out patrolling the city like old times—And she wouldn’t
be reminded about his failure every time her body shook.

Nate slipped into the adjoining
room and opened his locker. He stood staring at the two photos clipped inside
and felt the nagging, burning pain in his stomach intensify. He grabbed for the
bottle of antacids and popped four in his mouth as his eyes darted between the
two photos of Summer. There was one taken at the staff party where Summer
looked like a supermodel posing for the camera, then the one taken for
evidence, illustrating the massive damage that had been inflicted upon her
body. Every time Nate looked at these pictures they reminded him of how much
he’d let her down and how stupid he could be when he didn’t take the time to
think.

Nate could hear the chief’s voice
echoing down the hall and knew he was busy releasing John Scott while he stood
there, reliving the nightmare that the bastard had caused. He glanced in the mirror
and saw the puffy bags hanging from his eyes. He knew he looked like shit and
owed it all to that guilty bastard. Nate tried to smile, hoping to look less
like he was capable of ripping someone limb from limb, but it didn’t work. The
effort it took to smile right now was just too much, so he let his frown lines
live and headed for the door.

If the chief found out he’d
retrieved Summer’s gun for her, he’d be strapped to the reception desk for the
rest of his life, but when Summer asked, he didn’t have to think about it, he
had no choice in the matter. He owed her a lot. More than he was capable of
giving. Besides, a little reprimand would take his mind off the guilty feeling
that has been eating at his stomach for the last five months.

Nate slammed the locker door,
hearing footsteps out in the hallway. Everybody in the station knew about the
pictures in his locker—everyone except Summer. How could he explain why he had
those pictures posted in there? The guys let it go, thinking he was secretly in
love with her, but how would she react? Nate knew exactly how she’d react. She
would fly off the handle and rip them into tiny shreds and request never to be
his partner ever again.

Stepping through the doorway,
Nate tried to look happy for her sake, but it wasn’t Summer coming down the
hallway heading toward the back exit. It was the cause of all his pain, heading
straight toward him.

Seeing that bastard walking
calmly down the hallway with no one else in sight ignited the furry inside. His
body quivered with excitement at the thought of putting an end to all Summer’s
pain. He could try, convict and sentence John Scott right here and now in this
hallway and nobody would know what had really happened.

When Nate stepped from the
doorway, into the middle of the hallway, blocking John Scott’s exit route, he
thought he would see fear in the bastard’s eyes, but there was none. John Scott
stopped in his tracks, waiting for Nate to move out of his way as if he owned
the place.

Anything from John Scott would’ve
been better. A scream. An attempt to run in the opposite direction. Hell, Nate
had hoped for him to land a free shot to his chin, but there was nothing and
that pissed him off even more. John Scott was acting like he was king shit and
Nate was his toilet paper.

Nate lunged for his throat,
gripped him by his shirt collar and paused a second to see if there was a small
bit of regret in those blackened eyes for what he’d done five months ago, but
they looked empty. As empty as a vampire’s soul.

“You son of a bitch!” Nate
unleashed his furry with a blistering series of right hands to John Scott’s
face. He landed each blow harder and harder, hoping to snap John Scott’s neck
with each one. It felt so good, like nothing he could’ve ever imagined. He
welcomed the pain in his fist and savoured each impact.

“Stop!” Chief Dickson grabbed his
arm and only managed to slow the last blow before restraining Nate.

“He tried to escape,” Nate said,
feeling his nostrils flaring so much that it was painful. “But I stopped him.”

John Scott stepped back and spit
the mouthful of blood onto the white ceramic floor. “What the fuck is going
on?” He turned to the chief. “You said I was free to go and that’s exactly what
I was doing until he started pounding on me for no reason!”

“Oh, I’ve got a reason. A good
reason!” Nate glared at John Scott who was standing behind Chief Dickson, just
out of reach. “Her name’s Summer Demure. Officer Summer Demure.”

Chief Dickson wiped the smile
from his face and turned to John Scott. “You’re not free to leave until the
paperwork is completed. So next time you think about sneaking out the back door
you’d better think twice, because there may be an angry friend from your past
waiting to catch up on old times.”

Chief Dickson paused at the far
corner and turned back to Nate. “Wait inside until this is over, understand?”

Nodding, Nate waited until they’d
disappeared around the corner before he tucked his swollen hand under his other
arm and bit back the scream of anger that needed to escape.

Crippling pain exploded in Dean’s
stomach as he struggled to pull the shirt over his head. He knew Gavin was
standing right beside, but would never admit that he needed help getting
dressed, even if it was from his own half brother.

“Sorry, man,” Gavin said,
standing beside the closet, holding a few pairs of pants in his hands. “These
are the smallest I’ve got. I guess you should’ve eaten all your fucking
vegetables like I did.”

Dean poked Gavin in the stomach.
“Don’t tell me that’s vegetables.”

“It’s a little of everything.”
Gavin sucked in his stomach. “I guess after eight fucking years of eating
prison crap I kinda went overboard on the treats.”

Dean ripped the top pair from his
hands. “Give me the jeans. Even if they’re a little baggy, at least they won’t
attract as much attention as these things.”

“That’s a fuck load of fucking
blood you’ve spilled on yourself. Are you sure you shouldn’t be getting back to
the hospital?”

Dean grinned. This was the first
time he and Gavin have been this close in a long time. Ever since Gavin got
hooked up with the wrong crowd, about ten years ago, their close relationship
had slowly deteriorated until they never talked at all. “Now you’re starting to
sound like mom.”

“Fuck you!” Gavin threw the other
pair of pants at Dean then headed to the bedroom door and glanced at his watch.
“Put your fucking makeup on and let’s get you the fuck down to the fucking
police station and find out what those stupid fucks have found out.” He started
down the hall and called back, “And hurry up! I’m not gonna wait all day.”

“Fuck this, fuck that,” Dean
muttered as he slid the blood covered pants off. “Is that the only fucking word
you know?”

He lifted his shirt and stood
before the mirror, staring at the crusted, puckered seam that the doctor had
stitched an inch above his belly button. It seemed so long ago that he’d been
stabbed on the street corner, but as he glanced at the clock he realized that
since Sabrina had been taken, his whole world had come to a crawling halt. Time
seemed to be barely moving and he realized at that moment he’d been wasting his
life, letting it race past without stopping to appreciate the important things.

How could he have been so stupid?
How could he have thought that time apart would allow Summer to come to grips
with what had happened? There was more to it, and it was all too clear now.
He’d never forget the look in Summer’s eyes when she told him that Nate had
found her crawling from that ditch. Dean shook his head, knowing that he’d been
the one searching the city and countryside nonstop, praying that she’d be fine.
Then lucky old Nate, Dean’s body tensed at the thought, had swooped in and
become the hero—Summer’s hero.

“Why couldn’t it have been me?
Why couldn’t I have been the one to find Summer?” Dean shook his head. He knew
that if he’d been the one to find Summer, then her life now would be different.
She’d still love him and wouldn’t be afraid of his touch.

Dean pulled on the fresh pair of
pants and buttoned them hastily. “I’ll bet she doesn’t pull away from Nate,
like she does me.”

“Come on, Dean,” Gavin yelled
from downstairs. “Hurry the fuck up!”

Dean took one last look at his reflection
in the mirror and agreed that his appearance did look better—at least his
clothing did—but his face was still pale and shinny, looking dramatic against
his dark head of curls.

He cinched up the belt and
stuffed the gun in his waist band, beneath his shirt, grateful for the added
insurance. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed Gavin was
waiting impatiently at the front door for him.

“You don’t have to come with me.
Just drop me off at the office and I’ll take the company van down to the
station.”

“Don’t be silly, Dean. What kind
of brother would I be if I let you go off by yourself in this condition?” Gavin
smiled and grabbed Dean’s arm, hurrying him to the car. “Besides, if Mother
found out I let you go on your own looking like you might drop dead at any
time, she’d kill me.”

“Don’t worry about her.” Dean
grinned. “I’m the one with the gun.”

Gavin’s face hardened. “You’re
bringing it with you? To the police station? Are you completely fucking mad!”

“What?” Dean pulled the
prescription bottle from his front pocket and popped another pill in his mouth.
“It’s not like I’m going to pull it out and start shooting everybody.”

Gavin ran around the car and
climbed in. “You fucking better not!”

“What’s your problem?” Dean
opened the passenger’s door and cautiously lowered himself inside. “You said
your prints aren’t on the gun.”

“No, but if they confiscate it,
they might just trace it back to some other job.”

“Like what? What else are you
messed up in?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying, I got
it from a friend, but I can’t guarantee that it’s completely clean. He’s
usually pretty reliable, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it.” Gavin gave Dean a
quick once over. “You on the other hand look like you could drop dead at any
moment, so go ahead and bet. The odds aren’t that high.”

“Oh, thanks for the confidence.”
Dean placed a hand over the wound and the warmth felt good. “The doctors did a
good job patching me up. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

When Gavin turned down Wellington
Street, heading toward the police station, Dean couldn’t believe the amount of
vehicles around the station. There were media vans parked all throughout the
parking lot and down the sides of the streets.

“That’s a lot of fucking press
for a kidnapping,” Gavin said.

“Kidnapping, plus the jailing of
John Scott. I guess they want to see that bastard locked away as much as I do.”

Gavin laughed. “You don’t get it,
do you? Jail doesn’t do that fucker justice, not after what he’d put Summer
through—and you.”

“Well, that’s all we have so it’s
the best we can hope for.”

Gavin pulled to the edge of the
road behind the Chanel 9 news van. “Yeah, too bad we don’t have the death
penalty here, cause he’d be fried crispy in no time.”