Chapter Twenty-Four

Chase

“Lauren!”

I take my shaking hands off the wheel of the cruiser and turn to Lauren in the passenger seat, brushing strands of hair away from her face that’s pressed against the dashboard.

No blood. Thank god.

As I press my fingers against her neck, I feel a pulse, too.

She’s just unconscious. Probably, she’s just suffered a concussion.

That’s good.

But this whole thing isn’t.

The gate still stands tall and proud in front of me. The cruiser barely made a dent. Instead, it’s the front of the cruiser that’s wrecked, Steve’s body over what’s left of the hood and the rest of him trapped in between the wreckage and the gate.

“Fuck!”

I hit the steering wheel with both hands in frustration only to wince as I feel pain spread across my left shoulder.

I examine it, seeing the blood coming out from the cut where Steve’s bullet grazed my skin.

Well, I’ve been through worse.

I get out of the car, placing a hand over my eyes as I look at the top of the gate. If I was alone or if Lauren wasn’t unconscious, we could have scaled it. But there’s no hope for that now.

I just have to get Lauren, go out the back gate and run on foot – a grim prospect but it’s all I can think of.

I go around the car to get to the door of the passenger seat, pausing by the trunk. The force from the collision has caused it to pop open and inside, I glimpse a body, a red stain on the front of his black uniform.

Fuck.

I knew it. I knew something bad happened to the owner of this car.

Another innocent life caught up in this twisted game.

I cover my mouth as I grimace, running.

These murders, this madness has to stop. And only I can stop it.

Reaching the door to the passenger seat, I get Lauren’s body out.

With her in my arms, I run to the house but stop as I see my uncle coming out of the front door.

He’s alone. He’s still clutching his stomach, limping slightly. He’s sweaty and shaking just like I am. Even so, the hard gleam in his eyes tells me he’s not willing to give up.

It isn’t over yet.

Gently, I place Lauren down on the grass by some bushes, planting a kiss on her hair. Then I go to face my uncle, my hand on my bleeding shoulder.

“You just don’t give up, do you?” I tell him, walking toward him.

He chuckles. “Of course. You and I are alike after all.”

“We’re not. And you’ve lost.”

His thick eyebrows go up. “Have I?”

I gesture toward him. “Look at you. You’ve been poisoned.”

He gives another chuckle. “Your girlfriend is clever. I’ll give her that. But she hasn’t defeated me yet.”

Unbelievable.

“You’re sick,” I point out.

“And you’re wounded,” he points out in turn, grinning.

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. My shoulder is bleeding and I still have the cut above my eye and on my lip, not to mention the fact that my broken rib hasn’t healed completely yet.

“What do you propose?” I ask him.

He raises his hands, rolling them into fists. “Let’s finish this the old-fashioned way.”

“Old-fashioned, huh?” I clench my hands into fists as well. “Suits you.”

Terrence lunges at me first, going for my jaw. I duck to avoid his punch, punching him in the stomach.

He coughs, clutching it again as his features twist in pain.

“Sure you want to do this?” I ask him.

He lunges again and while I evade his first punch, the second hits my rib, causing pain to shoot across my side. The third hits my jaw.

I step back as I wipe off the fresh blood from the reopened wound on my lip.

Terrence snickers. “Have you forgotten, boy? I was the one who taught you how to fight.”

I remember. He even took me to a boxing gym once and bought me a pair of boxing gloves.

“I taught you everything you know,” he adds.

“Really?” I place my fists on my hips. “Maybe, but I’m better than you now.”

“Oh?”

I go for his jaw, missing it narrowly. He kicks me in the stomach, pushing me back.

I cough.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Terrence taunts. “Has life on the farm made you weak?”

Life on the farm.

Suddenly, I remember that time when I was ‘training’ to fight, just before Lauren arrived.

I was still wounded, hurting, but I was desperate to get back up and be better. Isaac saw me and he taught me a few moves.

I can clearly remember one now.

I raise my fists and shuffle my feet.

“What about you? Has having goons made you weak?” I try to provoke him into throwing the first punch. “Do you need them to do everything for you now? Maybe soon, they’ll be changing your diapers, too.”

It works. He throws the first punch and this time, I grab his arm, twisting it and then hooking it around my neck so I can throw his body on the ground. His bones crack, his scream piercing the air.

That didn’t work with Isaac the first few times I tried it since he was much heavier than I was but after lifting bales of hay, I guess I’ve grown stronger.

I’ve won.

As his face crunches in agony, I kneel by his side.

“You didn’t teach me everything.”

He opens his eyes, meeting my gaze. For a moment, I see a glimmer of remorse, of affection, but that disappears, eclipsed by wicked amusement as his lips curve up into a sick smile.

Before I can figure out the reason for his sudden change in expression, he brandishes the steak knife he must have been hiding in his clothes. I manage to jump back at the last second but the tip of the blade still cuts across my shirt and chest.

Wincing, I grab the weapon from him as he lets out another rumble of twisted laughter.

I’m tempted to push the blade through his heart, thinking of everything he’s done to hurt me.

He deserves to die.

I grip the handle and lift the knife, anger clouding my vision and my thoughts.

Suddenly, though, I hear a voice pierce that dark cloud.

“Chase!”

At the sound of Lauren’s voice, my mind clears. I throw away the knife, punching my uncle instead to knock him unconscious.

Lauren stumbles toward me, wrapping her arms around me.

I hug her in turn then pull away so I can get a good look at her.

“Are you all right?”

She nods. “Still a little dizzy but I’m fine. How about…?”

She pauses, gasping as she sees the fresh wound on my chest.

“You’re…”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” I assure her. “Just like the one on my shoulder.”

“Your shoulder?” She lifts my sleeve to look at my wound, frowning. “Wait. You were shot, weren’t you?”

“Like I said, it’s a flesh wound.” I cup her face. “Lauren, I’ll live.”

For a few seconds, she just stares at me, her amber eyes boring into my blue ones as they slowly fill with tears. Then she smiles before hugging me again, tighter this time.

“Oh, Chase!”

The relief in her voice fills my chest, which grows as I hear police sirens approaching.

“We made it,” she says softly.

“Yes,” I tell her, my own lips curving into a smile. “We did.”

She squeezes me tighter.

“Ouch,” I complain.

She quickly pulls away. “Sorry.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. Just take it easy. You can do whatever you want with me when I’m fully healed.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Really?”

I stroke her cheek. “I’m all yours, Lauren Calver.”

She blushes, her face lighting up. “And I’m yours, Chester Donahue.”

She kisses my forehead then throws me a puzzled look.

“Wait. Does this mean I should call you Chester now?”

I brush a strand of hair out of her face. “You can call me whatever you want.”

I nod. “In that case, I’ll call you Chase. My Chase.”

I smile. “I like the sound of that.”