Rise and Shine (Shine On Series, Book 2) (35 page)

She let Paul drag her back a few steps. This was it. She had to get out of here or die. Smith moved to the window and kept watch while Will’s attention was diverted to Emmie. Steven was making his way to the back door. Emmie could tell by the scared expression on his face he wanted to run, but he didn’t get the chance, because just then the door busted open. It was Silas. His gun was drawn. His eyes met hers briefly then turned to Will. He shot him twice without a word. Trick took out Smith at the same time.

Paul landed on her and they both hit the floor when the door open. Steven took out through the open door. Emmie heard another gunshot echo through the woods. It all was happening so fast, yet time seemed to move in slow motion. She pulled herself to the stove, feeling Paul against her back.

“Don’t worry Emma, I’m getting us out of here. That devil won’t take you again,” he whispered in her ear. She felt his gun pressed into her back.

He started to pull her backward, keeping her body in front of his. Silas turned his gun from Will to Paul but couldn’t get a clean shot. He opened his mouth and shouted something but Emmie could hear only her pulse pounding. Paul was so close to her there was no way she could fish the knife from her garter belt. From the corner of her eye she saw a cast iron skillet she’d used to cook the apples. Without another thought she grabbed it tightly and turned on her heel, swinging it like a baseball bat, cracking him right in the head. His eyes went blank as he fell straight backward. The skillet made a loud thud when it hit the floor. She dropped to her knees and covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t find air; everything had been sucked from the room.

Silas pulled her into his arms and turned her so she could only see his face.

“You are safe. Was there anyone else that may come back?” he asked seriously.

She shook her head.

“Breathe, Emmie. You’re safe. Breathe.” He rubbed her face with his gun-free hand.

“Did I kill him?” she asked. “Oh God. Silas, did I kill him?” She covered her face in her hands like she was trying to hide from the ugliness that surrounded her. “I didn’t mean to kill him. His eyes went blank. Oh God, Silas.”

He pulled her into his chest and looked at Paul Thomas’s lifeless body and the steady stream of blood coming from behind his ear. He was dead, there was no question. Silas let out a sigh of relief that that crazy man wouldn’t be able to hurt her again.

“No sweetheart. He’s just knocked out, cold.” Silas looked at Trick as he spoke the lie.

Trick nodded at his brother, reassuring him that he’d said the right thing. Silas wrapped his arm around her head and pulled it as tight as he could into his chest. Then he raised his gun and fired two rounds into Mr. Thomas’s body.

She screamed and pulled away. “No… no more killing. No more…” She couldn’t get out the last words, sobbing as she fell to the floor.

“The rest of the Johnsons are here and the Sheriff’s department. They are headed up the ridge to cut off the buttons,” Gabe said, entering the cabin.

Vince entered behind him. “Mr. Johnson and Bo have Steven. Gabe shot him but he’s not dead… yet anyway.”

“Everyone shut up,” Silas said, picking Emmie up from the floor.

“Vince I need you to handle this. Can you do that?” he asked, nodding to the woods.

“Of course.” Vince put his gun in his holster and smoothed his hair out of his eyes. He knew Silas was asking him to represent himself as the Johnson’s lawyer.

“Gabe, I need you to get the butcher’s to clean this up.” Silas tucked Emmie’s face into his chest.

“Silas, we’ve got this. Get her out of here,” Gabe said angrily. She’d seen too much and Silas didn’t needed to be here telling everyone what to do while she was in the midst of a nervous breakdown.

Silas nodded and carried Emmie to the car. Trick followed them. Trick took the driver’s seat while Silas settled Emmie in the back of the car and scooted in next to her. He felt her sob the whole way back to the DeCarmilla house.

As they pulled into the drive, Emmie tried to sit up. She winced and rubbed her right side.

“Let me,” he said, picking her up and carrying her in the house.

When they got inside he laid her on the living room couch. That was the first time he really saw her. She was broken—body and spirit. He leaned down, kissed her forehead, and wiped a spot of dried blood from her temple.

“You’re hurt,” he said softly.

“Not too bad.” She looked at him.

“I’m not going to ask you to tell me everything that happened, not tonight.”

She closed her eyes. “Thank you.” Her lips trembled as she thought back over the day.

“I love you Emmie. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I should have kept you safe,” he said, his voice cracking.

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

He wanted to argue with her, this was his fault. They only wanted her because of him: for his access to speaks and for what he’d done to their family. She was the only way they could hurt him and they’d known that. He wondered what other greedy assholes knew that. They’d have to make an example of this, if he wanted to keep it from happening again. He shook his head to block his train of thought. Right now he needed to focus on her.

“Will you tell me where you’re hurt?”

Her lips trembled before she answered. “My heart.”

It took him a minute to understand her words. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She only nodded. “I know. We’re alive. It’s what matters.”

He was amazed by her courage.

She looked at him as he knelt over her. “Spotty’s dead too, isn’t he?”

Silas looked up at the ceiling. “I think so, sweetheart.”

She nodded and bit her lip. Emmie was sure there were many words she should be saying, prayers she should be praying, and tears she should be crying. But she couldn’t seem to do any of those things. She curled onto her side and closed her eyes to block out the world around her. When she closed her eyes she saw her mother’s face—beautiful and young. She pictured her mother brushing her hair until it shined, and humming, saying it was impossible to be anything but happy when you’re humming. Emmie took a deep breath and pressed her face against the couch cushion and hummed “I’ll Fly Away” with her mother.

Chapter Fifty-one

“S
ilas, you can’t leave her there like that.” Gabe’s voice came from above her.

“I know,” Silas said quietly.

Emmie didn’t know if she’d been asleep or just out of it. She winced as she tried to pull herself up to a sitting position. It was pitch black outside; she’d been home, well Ava’s home, for a while. Her head pounded, the pain medicine from earlier must have worn off.

“Emmie, you have got to pull yourself together enough to get cleaned up.” Gabe crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hey, watch it.” Silas elbowed his friend.

“What? This isn’t good for her. She’s a strong girl and shouldn’t be lying there all dirty and bloody.” Gabe rubbed his arm.

“He’s right.” Emmie’s voice was barely a whisper. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes.”

She turned on the couch and felt something stab her leg. Oh have mercy—she’d never taken the knife out of her garter belt. Emmie pulled the hem of her dress up without the fear of indecency.

“Emmie, I’ll take you upstairs to…” Silas grabbed her elbow to help her stand. His words stopped short as she pulled a small kitchen knife from the top of her stockings.

“Holy shit, Emmie. How did you manage that?” Gabe looked proud.

Emmie smiled. “They were pretty distracted. It didn’t do much good though, I never used it.” She looked down at the knife and her hands started to shake. Silas’s hands covered hers as he pulled the knife from her fingers and set it on the table.

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t use it. I’m glad you didn’t have to.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He knew she was brave but never really understood just how brave until he saw that knife. He’d known grown men that wouldn’t have had the guts to hide a knife on them surrounded by armed men.

He touched the gash on her temple. “Did they hit you with their gun?” He did his best to keep his voice level and calm.

She nodded.

“I need you to tell me where else you’re hurt, okay?”

“My ribs. Other than that my legs and arms are just a little cut.” She looked at her shredded stockings.

“Your ribs?” Silas made the phrase a question.

“Steven and Smith had a hard time chasing me at my house. Tackled me about a quarter of a mile from home… twice.” She limped toward the stairs.

Silas clenched his jaw and nodded. He was doing his best to stay calm but inside he was burning. He wanted to kill them again because once didn’t seem enough. It had been too quick, too easy on them after the way she had suffered. He turned to Gabe.

“Bring up some water, pain medicine, and wrapping for her ribs.”

Gabe nodded and went to the kitchen.

Emmie sucked in a breath for the first few stairs. She gripped the banister and took a break. Something was off with her ankle too, she must have twisted it on one of her falls.

“Sorry.” Silas was right behind her, clearly ready to catch her if she didn’t make it. “I moved much better at the cabin, I’m not sure why my body’s gone to hell now.”

“It was probably the adrenaline.” He watched her.

Emmie nodded in agreement and attempted to climb the staircase. She struggled up another step. Silas couldn’t watch this. Wrapping one arm under her back and the other under her legs, he swept her off her feet. He had expected her to argue, fight with him, or roll her eyes but she did none of those. She rolled her head over onto his shoulder and curled into him. He repositioned her weight and carried her up the stairs.

“Thanks.” She said timidly.

“You never have to tell me thanks, Mo Chuisle.”

He set her down on the bathroom floor while he ran a bath. Emmie realized how glad she was to be at Ava’s house—she had a proper bath, with hot water that came right out of the faucet, in an iron tub that would stay warm for longer than ten minutes. She thought about his words as he tested the water temperature.

“Where’d you pick up that phrase, Mo Chuisle?” She reached down and pulled off one of her ripped stockings.

He turned to face her. “It’s what my pop called my mom. It’s Irish.” He grinned like a kid and shrugged. “Mo Chuisle. My love. My pulse. My everything.”

Emmie smiled. She decided she liked that. In spite of everything that happened today, she liked being that part of him. He was that for her too, she realized. Silas walked over and helped her out of her dress, picked her up, and set her in the warm water. She could almost feel her skin absorbing the peace of the warm liquid that surrounded her. Closing her eyes she sank so deep into the water, only her neck and head were visible. When she opened her eyes she was surprised to find that Silas had seated himself on the floor next to her.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

She looked over half expecting to see him asking to smoke or something but he wasn’t. He was just staring at her.

Emmie frowned. “Mind if you do what?”

“That I call you that.”

There it was that insecure part of him that she’d only ever seen one time before. The part of himself that he kept hidden from everyone.

He licked his lips and continued. “As you saw today… I don’t always find myself surrounded with a lot of good. Other than my family, that’s about all the good I had, until I found you.” He swallowed hard. “And when I’m in that, that…” He rubbed his jaw trying to find the right word, “other world… you are my pulse. My heart. My good that I know I’m going to come back to. That’s what Mo Chuisle is to me.”

She smiled and a tear escaped her eye. Did he see that sort of thing every week? How could you keep your soul when were surrounded with that much ugly? She wanted to ask but couldn’t bring herself to do it right now; it wasn’t necessary. As much as she knew it should make a difference, right now looking at him, it just didn’t matter. Maybe it would tomorrow, or next week, or next month. But right here, right now, she just wanted him with her.

“You’re my Mo Chuisle too,” she said, reaching her wet hand out to cup his cheek. The words that sounded beautiful and Irish on his tongue, just sounded foreign on hers but it didn’t matter. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d said the right thing to him. His composure relaxed and he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes.

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “I’m sorry about today. You should never have seen… or been…”

She stopped him. “No, please don’t bring it up.” He looked at her surprised. She explained, “I know at some point, we’re gonna have to talk about that but not tonight. Please.”

He nodded in agreement. The conversation could wait. “Here, let me help.” He grabbed a washcloth and lathered it with soap, washing the dried blood off her arms and legs, and finally helping her wash the blood from her hair. She was surprised at the angry shade of red-brown the water turned when she was clean. He bent over and pulled her out of the water.

“Oh, Silas, you’re getting all wet. At least let me try.”

He grinned. That sounded a little more like his girl. She wasn’t broken beyond repair. This time anyway. He was going to have to be much more careful in the future or the good girl he loved was going to get lost. Silas took this as a warning, that’s why his father kept his mother and sister so far from business. He wrapped a soft white towel around Emmie and picked her up again. But he knew his girl would never be happy in the dark completely. His mother and sister weren’t closet bootleggers. He gave her a smirk. They were going to have to find a balance, but with her it was going to be tough. Silas carried her to his room where Gabe had left the needed supplies and laid her on the bed. He took his time wrapping her ribs and the larger cuts on her legs and arms. He went to his closet and pulled out a shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts.