Rescue Me: A Bad Boy Military Romance (21 page)

“
What
,” Jason hisses through clenched teeth. I can feel his hand is shaking, the tremors vibrating through his muscles and down the scalpel to the tender skin of my stomach.

“Everyone thinks you’re just a daddy’s boy walking joke. They all say that your dad paid off the dean of the medical school to get you into a better residency. They think you’re an embarrassment. A walking sham. You are
nothing
, Jason.” My body is shaking now.

He lifts the scalpel up off of my skin. “You know what? I changed my mind. The thing I hate the most about you is your fucking bitch mouth. I think I’ll start there.” Jason moves up to my face and I squeeze my eyes shut as he presses the scalpel into the skin above my lip. I feel sharp pain and then a warm cascade of blood as he slices into my lip. “That’s better already, you little fucking –“

BAM.

The front door slams open, scaring Jason. He jumps away from me and I hear footsteps rushing into the living room.

“Ella!” Luke calls out.

“LUKE!” I scream back.

Jason fumbles for the gun.

“He has a gun!” I yell before Jason presses his fist onto my mouth, the pressure against the fresh wound causing me to scream. It’s muffled by the palm of his hand though. I realize Jason is distracted enough that he’s dropped the scalpel on my abdomen. I reach for it slowly. He’s pointing the gun at the entrance to the living room with one hand, the other still on my mouth. The pain is unbelievable.

I hear Luke enter the room before I see him. Jason is blocking most of my view. The gun goes off and I take my opportunity. I push upward against Jason’s hand and jab the scalpel into his neck, slicing through his carotid artery. Blood spurts everywhere as Jason howls and the gun goes off a second time. He falls onto the floor and I scramble to sit upright. Jason is still holding the gun but he’s losing blood quickly.

I hop off the table and grab my bathrobe, pressing it to Jason’s neck to stem the bleeding. I leave the scalpel in place. “You fucking bitch,” he says, exhaling. He’s pale underneath the makeup on his face. “You fucking-“

BAM.

A gun goes off and I see Jason’s head explode underneath my hands. My ears are ringing and tears are stinging my eyes. The room is blurry and I think I hear more people shouting behind me but I can’t be sure.

I feel Luke’s hands under my armpits and I hear screaming. He drags me off of Jason and picks me up. I see red and blue lights flashing outside and blurry figures walking into the house. Something warm, wet, and sticky is covering me. I realize it’s Jason’s blood.

Luke carries me upstairs. It’s not until he’s put me into the bathtub do I realize the echoing screams are coming from my own mouth.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

LUKE

I sit in the plastic chair, my hands in cuffs at the county police station. They’ve brought me coffee, which I rejected. It’s not like I can lift my hands anyway and I’ll be damned if someone’s going to hold it up to my lips like I’m some fucking infant.

I’m not an infant. I’m a fucking man.

There’s still blood on my clothing, and I figure I’ll have to strip naked and have my clothes put into evidence bags before this entire thing is over.

I shift my weight and the plastic chair creaks under me. The metal table with the handcuffs is cold under my forearms. All I can think about is having to leave Ella in that bathtub, the water rushing over her, tears in her eyes as they took me away.

The door to the interrogation room opens and I’m torn from my reverie to see the rotund belly of a balding police officer. Next to him is a young woman with a dark, low ponytail. She has her thumbs in her belt loops. She introduces herself and her partner but I don’t bother retaining their names.

I just don’t care. All I want is to get back to Ella.

“I’m guessing you’re gonna play the role of bad cop,” I say to her.

She isn’t amused and her partner pulls up a chair with a smile. “We just have some questions for you.”

“Shoot,” I say.

“Interesting choice of phrasing,” says the woman.

I shrug. “Don’t care.”

The guy opens up a file and reads notes from it. “Looks here like you might have tried to punch the sheriff upstairs at your house?”

I nod. “That’s correct.”

“You are aware that is considered resisting arrest along with the attempted assault of a police officer?” the woman says haughtily.

“Sounds about right,” I say casually.

“Why’d you do it? Why didn’t you just go along with them? I hear the sheriff’s your friend. Small town. You must know him.”

“I didn’t want to leave Ella,” I reply simply. “Where is she?”

The woman almost looks sympathetic to me in that moment. “She’s with a friend.”

“Alexa?” I ask.

The man laughs a little. “Not only Alexa. Seems like you’ve got a full house of folks watching over her. Dean, Tim, a few other people stormed up there, crime scene and evidence be damned.”

I feel proud of my friends in this moment. “As long as she isn’t alone. She doesn’t like being alone.”

The woman leans up against the table. “We’ve got a guy downstairs at your place, head blown off. Tell me about that.”

“He’s Jason Martin Bradley, twenty-nine years old out of Santa Barbara, California. Graduated from UCLA medical school by the skin of his teeth, went on to do his residency down in San Diego. Plastic surgery specialty. He used to date Ella Hanover but doesn’t like taking no for an answer.”

The guy looks impressed, and even his woman partner gives me a nod of approval. “You’ve certainly done your research, Mr. Davis,” the woman says. “Why was he in your home?”

“Presumably to butcher my girlfriend using his little surgical toys,” I say.

“How did you come across the two of them?”

I explain. I tell them everything: about how I beat him up a few weeks ago, how I’ve been having him followed. The text messages from Ella, the warning from Tim, the blood at the clinic. Tracking her iPhone to my house. Grabbing my gun from the safe I have buried in front of my house.

“And what was Ms. Hanover’s condition when you found her with Mr. Bradley?” the woman asks.

I ball my hands into fists. The handcuffs clink against the table from me shaking with rage. “She was naked. He was cutting into her face. He had a gun in his hand and he pointed it at me.”

“Then what happened?”

I hedge my bets with my next sentence, trying to weigh whether or not Ella told them the truth. Then I realize the autopsy will give this all away. Better to be honest. “He shot at me and missed. Then Ella took the scalpel that little shitrag was going to cut her open with -” I pause. “Using her medical knowledge, she drove the scalpel into the side of his neck. She punctured his carotid artery and left the instrument in his skin, probably so he wouldn’t bleed to death. She just wanted him on the ground.”

“And then what-“

“And then Ella did what Ella does. What she’s supposed to do.”

“And what is that?”

“She did no harm. She jumped off the table to try to save his life. She took her bathrobe and held it against his neck.”

The two officers are silent as I collect my thoughts and how I’m going to say the next thing.

“And then I did what I’m supposed to do. I’m a Marine. I aimed the gun at his head and blew it off.” I take a deep breath, Ella’s screams still echoing in my head like some sort of nightmare. “I took Ella from the scene to go clean her off. I didn’t want her sitting there with blood on her. I knew the sheriff was close behind us. I didn’t want her to be bloody and naked in front of him.”

“Were you trying to conceal evidence?” the woman asks me.

I shake my head. “No. I just told you I blew off a defenseless guy’s head. Why would I conceal evidence?”

The guy groans and shifts his ample weight, shutting the file. He folds his sausage fingered hands on the table, clasping them together and leaning forward. “Why’d you do it?”

I look him dead in the eyes. “Because a rich asshole like that wouldn’t go to prison. I wanted to make sure he didn’t have the chance to get out again.”

I lean back in my seat as the door opens and a court-appointed attorney comes rushing into the room wearing a cheap suit. “No more talking,” the lawyer says.

“It’s fine,” I reply.

The woman officer looks like she’s going to leave, but instead she opens the door. “I need you to leave,” she says to the lawyer.

He looks appalled. “Absolutely not-“

“Go,” I say. “I don’t need you.”

The man walks out, flabbergasted.

The officer sits down. “What we’re putting in our report is that you had no choice but to kill him. It was in self-defense.”

“What about the autopsy?” I ask, incredulous.

She waves her hand. “We make the part about you shooting a defenseless man go away. I’ve seen too many fuckheads who stalk women just go free after ninety days in jail. You add onto that the fact that this kid is loaded? You’re right. He would be in a cushy resort prison for a month and then be free to go terrorize another woman. Not on my fucking watch.” She has a tic going in her jaw. She composes herself. “You did the right thing. This all ends here. Well, the murder charges end here. The officer assault charge and resisting arrest is going to keep you here overnight.”

“I want to see Ella,” I say resolutely.

“You can see her tomorrow. I wouldn’t push your luck right now, son, if I were you.” The guy officer unlocks my handcuffs. “We’ll get you a change of clothes and you’ll be arraigned in a few days. You’ll be free to go first thing in the morning.”

I nod. They’re nearly to the door when I find my voice again. “Thank you,” I say.

“For what? This never happened,” the woman says to me, exiting the room.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

ELLA

“I want to see Luke,” I say to Alexa and Tim, who are at the foot of Luke’s bed.

“You were screaming your head off when I got here an hour ago,” Alexa says. “I really think you should stay in bed.”

“Besides, he’s in the jail for tonight,” Dean says, walking into the bedroom with a tray of cookies and tea. He sets it on the pristine white duvet.

“I’m not hungry,” I reply stubbornly.

“You need to drink some tea at least or I’m not letting you know what’s happening with Luke,” Alexa replies in her best mom voice.

I grab the scalding tea and blow on it for a full minute, finally drinking fully from it before setting the mug on the tray stubbornly. “You happy now?” I turn to Dean and Tim. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“There won’t be any murder charges. Self-defense.”

I open my mouth to object to this before wisely shutting it.

“Luke didn’t have a choice anyway, right?” Tim asks, biting his lip. He knows. I didn’t tell him, but he’s Luke’s best friend. He won’t ever ask him about it, but he’ll always know. He’ll always know that Luke didn’t need to shoot.

“He didn’t have a choice. He saved my life,” I say quietly. “So when is he coming home?”

“Tonight.” We all look over at the doorway. The sheriff is standing there with Tanya. “I’m not pressing charges for him tryin’ to beat the living hell outta me.”

I pull the covers off. I’m wearing Luke’s way-too-large sweatpants along with an oversized t-shirt. “I’m driving to pick him up, then.”

Everybody groans and Alexa shoves me back in bed. Tanya speaks from the doorway. “Amy Waters is picking him up. She volunteered. She was closest anyway since she was still at the fair.” Tanya claps her hands together. “I say we all sit around and talk shit about Jason. Ella won’t be getting any rest until Luke’s back anyway.”

“I’ll second that,” Tim says. Dean pulls a flask from seemingly nowhere and tips some liquor back into his mouth. Soon, I’m spilling my guts about mine and Jason’s entire relationship, the events that led up to tonight, and then exactly what happened downstairs.

Well. I leave out the part about Jason being defenseless. My brain is already trying to push out the memory of his face exploding anyway. I’m not sure I’ll sleep for a few days. Every time I close my eyes, I see it happening over and over and over again.

It takes me a good hour to get it all off of my chest. When I’m finished, I feel lighter somehow. Right as Dean leaves to get me more tea, I hear a truck pull up in the driveway. Nobody can stop me from flying down the stairs and nearly knocking over the crime scene guys who have taped off the living room. I jump into Luke’s arms, kissing him passionately and wrapping myself around him. The thick, gauze bandage on my upper lip is in the way but I don’t care. “I thought you were going to prison,” I whisper.

Luke grins, still holding onto me. “You told them the damn truth, didn’t you?”

I nod sheepishly. “I had to. I figured that the autopsy-“

“Would tell them all they needed to know anyway. Yeah. Well, I told the truth, too.”

I look at him, confused. He gives me a single shake of his head. “Later,” he mouths. Then he carries me up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Y’all planned a party and didn’t invite me?” Luke asks, setting me down onto the floor. I grab his hand and don’t leave his side. He doesn’t seem eager to be more than a few inches away from me, either, and climbs into bed where everyone else has gathered.

Luke goes through his side of the story, leaving out the more salient details that could end up with half the county police force rotting inside of a prison on corruption charges. It’s four o’clock in the morning when everyone, including the crime scene investigators, finally clears out.

Luke and I lay in bed just staring at each other. “I thought you were dead,” he whispers to me, running his fingers over the gauze bandage that’s covering my stitched-up lip.

“I thought I was going to die,” I reply.

“Did they get you all fixed up just in the ambulance?” he asks.

I nod.

“Jason didn’t…he didn’t rape you. Did he?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, no. Thank God,” I say hastily.

“Good. Then I might have to pull him out of the morgue and shoot him again for good measure.”

I sigh and kiss him lightly. “You need to get rid of that gun,” I say.