Liam

 

The sound of a grinding motor, a spastic dog, and the beeping oven slammed into me when I burst open the downstairs door.

I didn’t say anything, just ran full speed across the room and took the stairs three at a time.

Rushing into the kitchen, I took in a scene that could belong to a cult-favorite horror flick.

A huge bleeding man was bent over Bellamy, who he was holding into the sink while he slowly choked the life out of her.

I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t even think.

With a roar, I lunged into the room, grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and pulled him off my girl. He made a surprised sound as I yanked, and then a crippling yell. I didn’t care or pause. I kept pulling, slamming his back onto the island and dragging him across it. Everything in our path scattered and flew as he skittered over the top and I flung him off the end.

He hit head first into a bank of cabinets, landed on his stomach, and barely moved. I noted the large wound in his back, so I stomped on it with my boot, and he jerked in pain.

I glanced around me to Bellamy, who was still scrambling away from the sink. She was caught somehow, struggling to get free.

Blood smeared all over her, hair wild, and her eyes… Holy shit, her eyes were dilated so much they were almost black.

“Bells,” I said, starting forward.

“Watch out!” she shrieked, focusing behind me.

I spun and kicked the man, who was rushing me, in the center of his chest. He fell back, but it wasn’t enough. I went forward and rained blows upon him until his body turned to jelly beneath mine. I hit him still.

Blood coated his face, and his head lolled to the side, but all I saw was the image of him strangling Bellamy and the blood all over her hands.

I was going to kill him.

“Liam,” Bellamy said from somewhere close by. “Liam!” she yelled, snapping me out of it.

I stopped and turned. Bellamy stood just behind me, her hair kind of hacked off at uneven angles, blood on her face, hands, and smeared on her shirt.

I glanced over her body, my eyes stopping on her stomach, on the tear in her shirt and the blood trickling out the side.

“Is that…?” I intoned, pointing.

Her hand covered the tear, and her face fell. “He tried to hurt the baby,” she whimpered.

A beastly roar filled the kitchen as I spun, lifted the passed-out man by the front of his shirt, and dragged him over to the sink.

I tossed his body over the side and grabbed his hand.

His eyelids started to flutter, and I pushed my face close to his. “You threaten my kid?” I asked, utterly calm and low.

His eyes popped open, and he tried to scramble away.

I laughed.

“Did you come into my house, attack my wife, and then try to hurt my son?”

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

I shoved his hand into the still-running garbage disposal. The sound of flesh grinding coupled with his shout of pain fueled my anger. I pushed his arm inside farther.

“Please, staaahp!” he begged, gurgling.

Blood splattered around the inside of the sink. I liked the sight of his blood far better than the sight of my wife’s.

“This is nothing,” I said, leaning into his ear. “This is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you. You come after my family… and I’ll rip you apart.”

“Crone sent me!” he wailed, his body beginning to jerk as though he were having some kind of seizure. I didn’t feel bad for him.

I felt nothing in that moment but insane anger and the bitter bite of frost.

“Perry Crone sent me to kill her. He hates you!”

The garbage disposal shut off, making a horrible choked sound. I glanced around at Bellamy, who was pale and wobbly on her feet. “The police are here,” she whispered, swaying.

I let go of the asshole and reached for her, scooping her against my chest and hunching around her.

Behind us, the man slumped to the floor, his hand mangled and half missing.

I carried her to the top of the steps, and the door was forced in. Police with drawn weapons surged into the house, and Bellamy’s head fell against my shoulder.

“I need a medic!” I bellowed. “Now!”

The EMTs rushed past the police officers, and I carried Bellamy over to the couch where they could look her over.

“She’s twenty-three weeks pregnant,” I told them. “He tried to stab her stomach, and it looks like he stabbed her hands.”

“No, I grabbed the knives,” Bellamy said, coherent.

Oh. She grabbed the knives. Rage flushed over me again, and I wanted to race back into the kitchen and inflict some more damage.

“Liam,” she said as the paramedics basically rushed her.

“I’m right here.” I promised, glancing behind me as the cops filled the kitchen.

“Jesus,” one of them spat, and another started to hurl.

I turned back to Bells. “How are you? How’s the baby? How bad are you hurt?”

“We’re going to be fine. We’re all fine.” It was more like a mantra she was saying to reassure herself.

“What the hell happened here, Mattison?” the chief of police yelled, barging through the door.

I pulled out my cell and dialed Frost. When he answered, I said, “You better get here. Now. Crone sent someone to kill Bellamy again, and you will want to get his confession before he bleeds out.”

“Bleeds out? Jesus, Mattison, I told you to let me do my job!”

“You weren’t fast enough.”

“Where are you?” he asked briskly. I could tell he was already on the move.

“My mom’s place.”

“She needs to be moved to the hospital,” the EMT said, standing.

All that numbness I felt when I was grinding up asshat in there? It all went away, and the brutal sting of too much emotion nearly took my breath.

“Mattison,” Frost yelled in my ear.

“We’ll be at the hospital,” I said, then disconnected the call.

“I need a stretcher,” the one EMT said to the other.

Bellamy looked at me with panic and exhaustion in her eyes. I went forward and gently lifted her into my arms. “Where to?” I said.

They looked as if they were about to object, but I gave them a look.

“This way,” one of them replied and led us out of the house.

The sound of Charlie barking and growling erratically made me look back.

“Charlie!” Bellamy cried, hearing him.

As I was lifting her into the ambulance, the dog leapt up and sat beside where she lay, gently laying his large head on her belly. He was protecting her. Her and my son.

“No dogs,” the EMT said.

I turned and glared at him.

“Just this once,” he muttered.

Sirens blazing, the ambulance drove away, leaving behind a busted house, crowds of police, and a half-dead killer on the kitchen floor.