Her body trembles more, but she glides her back up against mine. She shakes and shivers, whimpers and cries. I jiggle and finagle, digging deep to try and get the end of this thing inside the hole. It’s no use. The hole is too small. But I’m not about to give up. I’m left with no other choice.
“Deidre, baby. You have to take this now and run and stab him in the side of the neck. Don’t argue. Don’t say a word. DO IT. If you don’t, he’s going to kill her. Aim for his jugular. Do it now.”
I drop the screwdriver into her sweaty palms. I will survive this. We all will. What my woman does next makes me fall for her even more. She sprints forward, her body lunging in the air, and she nails the maniac right in the side of his neck. The world stops for these pieces of scum who think they can control my world. Stan releases his hold, staggering backwards, blood gushing out where my screwdriver is lodged in his neck.
There’s screaming, gunshots, and dust flying. “Get up,” Junior barks in my ear and places a gun at the back of my head.
“Where is she?”
“Who?” I’m acting like I don’t know who he’s talking about.
“Our mother, asshole. Where is she?” He presses the gun in farther.
“She’s in hell, Junior. I do believe she’s been there since the day she had you.” My voice has no tone. No care. Nothing.
“All right. You want to play. I have about fifteen minutes to play. Watch, big brother.”
“Matthew, tie them all up against those trees.” I look to where all three of the women are now huddled together. All I see is her. My brave one. We’ll get out of this. I have to believe we will. This is not the time to be thinking about this, and yet I cannot help it. I love her, every part of her. I hope against hope that she is strong enough to handle what she just did. She killed a man. His dead corpse lies ten feet away from her. She’s clinging to her mom, and I stand here watching all that hope drain out of her.
“Deidre,” I call out. Her head whips in my direction. Our eyes lock for one brief moment before she is pulled out of my view.
“You won’t get away with this. Our family will find you. It won’t take them years, months, or even days to get you.” Deidre looks Junior right into his eyes. Her lips tremble slightly, there’s no happiness, no sweet, no tart, just a blank, deadly stare. She’s giving up. Her sassy spark I dove right into and fell in love with is gone.
One by one he snatches them up, drags them by their hair, and ties each one of them to a tree with their hands stretched behind them and pieces of material shoved in their mouths.
“You are sick man,” I spew when he pushes me forward.
“Maybe so. Bring me the kid.” He reels around in front of me. I refuse to look at him. My only concern right now is to watch her reaction, the mother of my child, the woman who taught me the meaning of love.
“I say leave the kid in the van, don’t let them see him. Besides, the little punk has obviously slept through this whole thing. And we need to get the fuck out of here.” Matthew steps in front of Deidre. My view of her is gone. All I see are her unsteady legs. Wobbly. Unstable.
“I really wanted to make you choose which one of these bitches to kill first. By the look in your eyes, you’ve made my mind up for me.” Junior completely ignores Matthew and squares his shoulders back like he’s already won.
That’s when it happens. The only perfect explosion of my still beating heart is when I see Matthew slump forward, and before his knees even hit the ground, Junior screams out in pain when he’s shot in the shoulder of the arm holding his gun.
I lift my foot, slamming it into his arm, kicking the gun out of his hands as I do so.
“Jesus, John, get these damn cuffs off of me!” I yell. I know it’s him. There is no one else I know who can sneak up undetected and shoot two people within a matter of seconds.
“I got him.” Roan. Fuck me. I may kiss the motherfucker after I have my family safely tucked close.
“She told you you wouldn’t get away with this. You fucked up asshole.” Roan punches the piece of shit lying on the ground in the face, while he squirms around like the little bitch he is.
“Do you have a key in these pockets, man? If so, I need it. My brother here has a job to do.” He shoves his hands into Junior’s pocket.
“Fuck you,” he shrieks out in pain.
“No, thanks. Dead stinking pussy ain’t my thing.” He then stands up and looks me in the eye. No words need to be exchanged right now. He knows this as well as I do. Walking behind me, he takes my hands, and I hear the sweet sound of the cuffs being unhinged. I’m running to the van before they even hit the ground.