A SEAL's Vow (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 2) (31 page)

She needed a weapon. Something.

The front door bulged as if something heavy was being pushed against it. She heard a muttered curse. Was it stuck? Nora prayed frantically under her breath as she searched for something to arm herself with.

There was nothing. Except—

Nora pulled at one of the rotten desktops, and it came free of its metal undercarriage with a squeak. It wasn’t much. Just a rectangle of wood, solid in the middle, soft and splintering away on the sides. She hoped it was enough.

Something banged against the door. Andrew’s shoulder? Nora sprinted across to stand beside it where she’d be hidden by the door when it finally swung open. She lifted the wooden desktop over her head and held her breath, her heart beating so fast she thought it might burst from her chest.

Another bang. More swearing.

Andrew burst inside.

He was taller than she remembered. Without his chinos and pressed shirt, he looked rougher, too. His hair had grown out of its neat cut. He wore jeans, tennis shoes and a jacket that looked like he’d salvaged it from a Dumpster. When he turned his head, she saw he had a week’s growth of beard, at least.

Nora didn’t wait to see more. She bashed the desktop down on his head with all her might. When Andrew staggered a few paces, she ran—

Out the door, down the dirt track and toward the road beyond.

She’d never run so fast in her life. Her shoes were sensible, but they weren’t meant for this kind of activity, and Nora cursed the day she’d ever agreed to wear a Regency gown. Lifting her skirts in both hands, she put her head down and raced like her life depended on it.

It did.

“Nora!”

She sobbed out a garbled plea at the sound of Andrew’s voice and sped up. She hadn’t hit him hard enough. He was following her. Sprinting even as pain stitched through her side, Nora turned onto the road and hesitated only a fraction of a second. Which way to run? She didn’t know where to turn. Where was help? There wasn’t a car in sight.

“Nora!”

He was getting closer. Nora dashed to the right, in the direction she thought would lead back to the manor. She ran flat out, gasping for breath, praying for help as she fled down the road.

When a hand clamped down on her shoulder, Nora screamed, lashed out and dislodged it, but Andrew came back a second time. He caught her, hooked an arm around her middle. She tripped, their feet tangled together and they both crashed onto the macadam, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Still, Nora fought with everything she had, kicking and clawing and scrambling to try to stand up again. Andrew caught her arms, pressed them to the pavement and straddled her.

“Shut up. Shut. Up.” He let go with one hand, fumbled in his pocket.

Another syringe? Chloroform? Something to knock her out? She didn’t wait to find out. She grabbed his arm with her free hand, yanked it toward her mouth and bit him as hard as she could.

“Bitch!” Andrew slapped her, and Nora tasted blood in her mouth. “Fucking bitch. Always screwing things up. Why can’t you do what you’re supposed to?” He slapped her again. The next time he hit her, his fist was closed.

Pain blossomed in her cheek and Nora sucked in a breath. All her struggles hadn’t dislodged him and she was losing strength. Where was everyone? Why hadn’t a single car driven down this road?

Suddenly Andrew surged up off her, but Nora’s relief was short-lived when he yanked her up with him, ducked down to throw her over his shoulder and headed back the way they’d come. Hanging nearly upside down, it took Nora a minute to orient herself and lash out again, but once she did she fought like a wild thing. He wasn’t going to get her back in that school. Because when that door closed—

She turned and twisted, flailing like a fish in his arms until she finally managed to hook her elbow around his neck. She linked it in her other arm and squeezed as hard as she could, trying to choke the life out of him. Andrew clawed at her wrists, but she held tight until he tangled his fingers into her hair and dragged her down by it.

She wasn’t sure what happened next. One minute they were grappling. The next she was down in the dirt at the side of the road. She couldn’t breathe. Andrew lifted her up again, and this time half-carried, half-dragged her back to the dirt track that ran to the school. She dug in her heels when she could, made herself as heavy as possible, but to no avail. Andrew, while not a large man, was strong—far stronger than she’d given him credit for.

Finally getting her feet underneath her, she lashed out again, dug her nails into his skin, and when that didn’t slow him down she twisted around and bit him again.

“Goddamn it!”

Nora had just thanked her lucky stars that Andrew didn’t seem to have a weapon when he dropped her to the ground and kicked her in the head.

He didn’t need a weapon.

Nora’s head ached and her ears rang. When she tried to sit up, the world spun and the contents of her stomach emptied on the ground.

“Jesus Christ. You bitch. Now look what you’ve done.”

She’d thrown up on his shoe.

Good.

That was something, she thought, but as she fell back in the dirt, she felt the hot tracks of her tears and knew she was losing this fight.

Andrew stood over her, his disgust plain in the twist of his lips.

“Fuck. You,” she managed to spit out, the first thing she’d said since he’d opened the door.

“Yeah. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You always wanted to fuck me, but you couldn’t handle it.” He moved forward, one foot on either side of her, looming over her like the Colossus of Rhodes. He thought he was as invincible as the stone that had once made up that ancient statue, didn’t he? No one was invincible, Nora wanted to tell him. Not even Andrew. “That’s why you said no. Well, guess what? You’re going to find out what it’s like to take me inside you. You’re going to beg me—”

In one quick jerk, Nora brought her knees to her chest and kicked with both feet at Andrew’s crotch.

He crumpled with a cry, and Nora tried to scramble up. But Andrew had fallen on top of her, and even when she freed her legs, her long skirt was trapped underneath him. He writhed in the dirt, but just as she pulled free, he caught a handful of fabric and yanked her back to the ground.

No way. She wouldn’t let him win.

Nora scrabbled and kicked until she was on her hands and knees again, and pulled until the fabric ripped and she came free. Not pausing to look back, she ran, gasping and heaving, toward the street.

She was going to get away. This time she’d get away. There had to be a car—

When the first shot rang out, Nora shrieked and ducked to the side, nearly tripping over the remains of her gown. The next one came to the left, and she raced back the other way. A quick look back told her Andrew was on his feet. He was pursuing her.

Shooting at her.

“Clay!” she screamed as she dashed forward again. “Clay! Please!” She didn’t know if she was praying or begging or both. She only knew what she wanted. Clay’s arms around her. This nightmare over. To be back at Westfield. At Base Camp.

With Clay.

Nothing else mattered. Not teaching, not writing, not Baltimore—

Just the man she loved. The man who loved her. The one person who made her feel safe and whole.

A third shot buzzed by so close, Nora dropped to the ground, then scrambled forward, half running, half crawling. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t—

A crack and a thud and something cold and hot all at once slammed into her shoulder. Nora hit the ground hard enough to black out, but she came to all too soon.

“Crazy bitch.” Andrew stood over her. “Playtime’s over. Let’s get to work.”

‡

C
lay slammed the
steering wheel with the heel of his hand. Damn it, the turnoff to the school couldn’t show up soon enough.

There. There it was.

He barely slowed down as he rounded the corner. Another glance in the mirror told him Dell was still with him. He pulled up in front of the schoolhouse, but Dell leaped from the truck and past him before he could even get the door open. Clay lurched out of the truck behind him, his service weapon heavy in its holster at his hip as he followed Dell to the door. He’d grabbed it from Base Camp’s gun safe after the fire the previous evening and was grateful now he had.

Dell pointed to the ground, and Clay saw what he meant. Footsteps and tracks in the dirt. Someone had been here. Several someones.

Dell pointed again.

Clay’s heart lurched as he bent closer to look.

Blood.

Nora
.

He burst past his father, slammed against the battered door to the schoolhouse and launched himself inside. What he saw would stay with him for years to come. Nora’s lifeless body on the floor, a stranger bending over her, fumbling with her gown. Blood staining the shoulder of her pale dress, an enormous, deadly blossom that nearly stopped Clay’s heart, before rage started it pounding again triple time.

That rage propelled him forward like a furious bull, his shoulder lowered so when he hit the man, he knocked him flying. He dropped to his knees beside Nora and took in her pale face, her closed eyes and slack muscles.

“He’s got a gun!” Dell’s shouted warning let Clay duck and cover Nora with his body just in time as a shot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. A muffled grunt made him turn around to see Dell crumple.

“Dad!”

Time slowed down. Without thought—without awareness—Clay drew his gun, aimed and took his shot, even as the stranger pivoted to put him in his sights.

Clay didn’t miss.

The man hit the floor, the neat bullet hole between his eyes already filling with blood.

Clay spun around, looked for another source of danger, saw there was none and scanned the room to assess the damage.

Three bodies. The stalker—at least Clay assumed that’s who the man with the gun was.

Dell.

And Nora.

And for one moment—one long moment—something else. A shadow. A ripple. Something he’d seen before on the battlefield.

Death.

Fear ripped through Clay with a jagged knife.

“No.” Clay struggled to clear his throat. He had to make noise. Do something to scare it away, because Death didn’t appear after someone was gone—it appeared when someone was going. And he’d be damned if he let either his dad or Nora slip away.

“You got one body,” he shouted at the empty room as he sprang into action, still feeling that otherworldly presence. “You don’t get any more.” He tugged his shirt over his head, fell to his knees, pressed it to Nora’s wound, then moved awkwardly to get closer to Dell, still keeping pressure on Nora’s shoulder. There was so much blood on Dell’s clothing he couldn’t tell where his father had been hit.

“Neither of them. Do you hear me?” he shouted again.

But Death didn’t answer. It never did, though it hovered close.

“Damn it.”

Clay fumbled his phone out of his pants. Hit 911.

“I’m at the old schoolhouse—the abandoned one. I’ve got two down. They’re bleeding out. I need an ambulance, now!”

“Sir—”

“This is Clay Pickett, from Westfield. I’m in the abandoned schoolhouse near the highway. I’ve got two people shot. I need an ambulance—”

“They’re on their way.”

He dragged Dell closer to Nora, hating to move him, but unwilling to let him lie where he couldn’t tend to him, either. His phone fell to the floor, but he kept one hand pressed on Nora’s shoulder and searched Dell for a wound, finally locating it on the side of his neck. He couldn’t tell how deep the bullet had gone, but he ripped the tail off the bloodied shirt he pressed to Nora’s wound and did the same for his father.

“Nora. Nora, honey, you gotta stay with me.” Of the two, he thought she was hurt the worst. Dell’s breathing was even, but as he watched, Nora’s was getting shallower. “Nora! Do you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and Clay’s breath caught. Thank God.

“Nora? You’re safe, honey. You’re good. An ambulance is on its way.”

“Andrew,” she breathed, fear sparking in her eyes.

“Andrew? Is that the man who attacked you? He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.”

She closed her eyes and a tear squeezed out from under her lid. Clay wanted to scoop her into his arms. Wanted to will the life back into her, but he couldn’t take his hand from Dell’s neck. “Nora. Come on, honey. Stay with me.”

Her eyes opened again. “Cold.”

Clay swallowed past a lump in his throat. He hadn’t frightened Death away, after all. “You’ll be warm soon. You’ll be safe and warm, I promise. Just another minute. You can do this.”

“He keeps… coming. Keeps… coming.”

He hated the pain and fear in her voice. When he spoke again, Clay’s throat was raw.

“He’s gone now, sweetheart. I swear. It’s over.”

“Over,” she repeated.

“That’s right. He’s gone. Nora? Nora!”

She’d faded away again. Afraid he was losing her, he shook her gently, wincing because he knew he must be hurting her even more.

“Nora! Stay with me, baby. Come on.”

Her eyes opened again. Another tear slid down her cheek.