Chapter seven

After checking to ensure that our doors and windows are locked and secure, I sweep my lady up in my arms and carry her to our bed; hovering over her throughout the night with the fiercest of protectiveness.

Still, I wonder as I finally fall asleep, will all the locked doors and sealed windows be enough? Will even my love and protection be enough to save Winter?

My question remains unanswered the next morning, when we get an unexpected visit from a concerned Pete; one who tells us both the news that we already know, while all the while adding even more unsettling and infinitely disturbing tidings.

“Joey, I am so sorry to tell you this,” the man I’ve known as a father tells me, pinning me with set lips and a grave, narrow stare. “But as much as I would love to ensure your security here, I simply can’t.” he pauses here, adding in a lowered tone, “I have had to ask Cole Shipley to leave our group—that is, after I beat him to a bloody pulp last night.”

I blink hard, shaking my head from side to side as I process this unbelievable news.

“Cole? He’s like a brother to me—always has been,” I protest, making a broad, awkward gesture in the air between us. “How can you do this, Pete?”

Pete shrugs.

“It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” he insists, adding as he looks me straight in the eyes, “After I caught him sending an e-mail that listed the full address of your little hideaway here. Cole, and the computer, were turned over to the police after I doled out my punishment; who then determined that he was writing to a prison-based IP in Avondale.”

I double over on the couch, gasping out as though someone has literally punched me square in the gut.

Wrapping her arms tight around my shoulders, Winter seems to keep her sense of calm as she looks a solemn Pete straight in the eyes.

“So Nate knows we’re here,” she concludes with a deep frown.

Pete sighs.

“The police are working as fast as they can to track him down, Winter,” he releases on a sigh. “But to be frank, I just don’t know where to take you to keep you safe. This monster that we’re up against seems to have connections everywhere.”

Winter thinks a moment, then nods.

“We’ll hold our own here,” she assures him.

Slowly but surely I sit up on the couch, taking my lady’s hand in mine as I nod in agreement with her words.

Pete leaves us with a renewed supply of food and firearms as he assures us that he has sent armed guards to the home of Winter’s grandmother, to watch over her and Winter’s mother.

Then my makeshift dad gives me a big, tight hug; following this uncharacteristic gesture with a solid punch in the shoulder, to assure me that he hasn’t gone all soft on me or anything.

“I wish I could take you both back to town with me, seeing as to how Nate knows about our hiding place,” he tells me with a sigh. “But since he was in cahoots with Cole, he probably knows the address of our clubhouse too, along with all of the usual places we stash the people that we’re trying to protect.”

I nod.

“Wherever Winter is,” I vow. “I’ll always be there to protect her.”

Finally Pete takes his leave, lingering on the doorstep to make sure that I lock the door behind him.

After drawing the curtains and settling down with Winter on our favorite comfy couch, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hover over her in a protective manner; using my body as a shield even as I wonder if—or, more truthfully, when—the danger will strike.

Even as I cuddle her close and sweet, an obtrusive coal black pistol protrudes upward from my back waistband and digs painful into my back; a cold, hard reminder that a threat looms over the life and well-being of the woman in my arms.

“I love you, Winter,” I whisper in her ear, hoping against hope that it won’t be for the last time.”

“I love you, Joey,” she responds in kind, wriggling deep and contented in my embrace as we stare deep into one another’s eyes.

For a timeless moment we cling to each other, neither of us seeming to know what to say. Finally I just reach once again for our ever-reliable remote control, clicking on the television and mindlessly browsing through the vast selection of cable channels available to us.

Finally, I settle on an old episode of “I Love Lucy”; relaxing just a bit as we laugh at the antics of that wacky Lucy and Ethel.

“I used to watch this show when I was kid,” I tell Winter, adding in a wistful tone, “I even once pretended that Lucy was my mom.”

Reaching upward to plant two warm, soft pink lips against my cheek, Winter whispers in my ear, “Those days are behind you, Joey. I’m here now.”

For a few minutes we languish and cuddle on the couch, until finally a smirking Winter declares, “Enough mush already! I’m up for some popcorn!”

With this declaration, she pops up from the couch; delivering a cheeky smile over her shoulder as she hops like a kid in the direction of the kitchen.

As I hear boxes and bowls rattling about on the surface of our kitchen countertop, I continue to bellow out commentary on the show that unravels across our TV screen at a lightning pace; with the legendary Lucy delivering one sharp gag after another while getting into more and more trouble by the second.

“Hey Winter, you just gotta see this one scene,” I declare at one point, sitting up on the couch as I let loose with a loud, sharp chortle. “It’s the one where Lucy and Ethel go to work in the candy factory….”

“Oh, is it now? I tell ya, I just love this episode.”

My laughter dissolves, and I freeze in my place, as a deep, cold masculine voice answers my words; one that seems to be coming straight from the kitchen.

My eyes widen in horror as Winter emerges from that room—but she has not come alone.

A tall, scowling muscle thug walks with slow, melodic steps at her side; clutching my lady’s arm in one strong, beefy hand and a full cocked pistol in the other.

I watch helpless as this terrifying intruder—a hulking bald man with empty ice blue eyes, dressed in a tattered grey coat that covers an ominous orange jumpsuit—drags the petite Winter like a helpless rag doll into the living room; raising his gun to her temple as he fixes me with a slow, dry smile.

“You know, as much as she likens that ugly old man of hers, Winter here sure is a right pretty gal,” he snarls, adding as he clicks his gun in a grim, ominous manner, “It’s such a pity I’m going to have to blow that beautiful face clear off her ever lovin’ head.”

Even as I gulp hard in response to these words, I hold the madman’s gaze as he jerks a silent, petrified Winter closer to his side.

“Now before you do anything rash, Nate is it?, please just take a moment to think about something,” I bid him, fighting to keep my tone steady. “Surely in your life, and I might be overreaching a bit here, even you have known a woman that held your heart in your hand—someone you’d do anything to protect. Well, that woman right there beside you is everything to me. Surely there’s something left inside you, some shred of humanity or decency, that allows you to understand what I’m trying to tell you.”

Freezing in his place, Nate arches his eyebrows and purses his rough lips as he seems to consider this question.

Then he raises his head to sear me with a smirk that is downright evil; swirling his gun upward in what is supposed to be a dramatic motion as he shakes his head from side to side.

“Nope, dude,” he sneers outright. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Didn’t think so. That, after all, would require the brand of heart and mind that only a decent human being could possess.”

My head jerks wild in the direction of Winter, who breaks her silence and seems to come alive as she sears her father’s killer with a biting comeback.

One that I am more than certain will cost her her life.

But Winter follows up her words with actions, elbowing her now distracted assailant as she simultaneously delivers a sharp sidekick straight to his knee.

Gasping in shock, a wide-eyed Nate drops his gun to the ground and doubles over in pain; allowing me just enough time to retrieve my own gun and point it at his other leg.

With an angry growl, I pump two bullets straight into his leg; sending him falling to the ground with a scream of agony as he loosens his hold on Winter’s squirming body.

Immediately she jumps away from him, racing to my side as I welcome her with open arms.

Gracing her with a quick but tight hug of reassurance, I lean over to retrieve Nate’s fallen gun and approach his fallen body with slow, cautious steps; all the while whispering into the ear of the woman who regards her father’s murderer with cold eyes and a condemning glare.

“Tell me right now, Winter. The choice is yours, and yours only,” I tell her. “Do you want me to kill him? Say the word and I will avenge you and your father.”

Winter stops stock still, her face expressionless as she seems to turn this question over in her mind.

I see her eyes come alight as she seems to—just briefly—savor the thought of wreaking her vengeance on the man who changed her life forever.

With slow and purposeful steps she leaves my side to approach the still, injured form of her father’s assassin; looking him straight in the eyes as he returns her gaze, unwavering and even leering.

“Oh go ahead, Babe,” Nate grinds out, even as he winces in agony. “I’m not going back to jail, I’ll die first. So if it would make you feel better, go ahead and kill me.”

I keep my gun trained on Nate as Winter bites her lip; closing her eyes tight as she makes what I suspect is the toughest decision of her life.

Then she opens her eyes, retreating from the body of her sworn enemy as she tells him, “My father never sought the death penalty, Nate. Not even when he prosecuted an evil, unrepentant scumbag such as yourself.” She paused here, raising a finger for emphasis. “Taking a cue from one of the two most remarkable men I’ve ever met in my life, I have decided to spare yours. So you can thank him for your life—a life that, if I have it my way, will be spent in jail.”