Satyr’s mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. “Fine. If she doesn’t die now, she’ll die later. I’ll see to it, or James will. You lose either way, Johnny.”
“Don’t count on it.” In a barely perceptible move, Johnny planted his elbow in the throat of the man who’d frisked him. He used the man as a shield when his partner fired. Then he grabbed the dead man’s gun and put two bullets into the first guard’s throat.
Satyr froze. Only for a moment, but it was long enough for Johnny to kill the two men, spin back, and launch himself at his old cellmate.
Fire burst through the roof of the shack. Johnny’s mind gave a primal scream at the sound of rending wood, but he had to believe Melia had escaped. There was nothing left for him to do except believe.
He put everything he had into the punch he leveled at Satyr’s head. He knew enough about Mockerie’s habits to suspect that Melia wouldn’t have been tied down. Where was the fun in that? Add in the fact that she was resourceful and smart… She’d have escaped somehow.
Unless Mockerie had knocked her out.
“Goddammit!” He plowed his fist into Satyr’s face, rolled away, and started to run. But Satyr’s obsession gave him unexpected strength. He gained his feet and tackled Johnny from behind.
Johnny shoved a foot in his face, knocking his head back and his hands away. Blood gushed from Satyr’s nose. Howling, Satyr went down. “We’re not done yet, Johnny. No fucking way!”
The bullet caught Johnny in the hip. Grazed him just enough to slow him up. Another shot just missed his chest.
Johnny dropped, snatched a Derringer from his sleeve, and, twisting around, fired.
Satyr was maybe ten feet away. He stopped in his tracks, a look of bafflement and shock on his face. Blood dripped from his nose and the hole where his eye patch had been.
His mouth opened. “You killed…” He looked at Johnny in disbelief. “Me.” Then he gurgled out a breath and pitched forward into the weeds.
Johnny didn’t waste a second. He shot to his feet, set his sights on the burning shack, and took off toward it.
…
Melia’s heart missed so many beats, it surprised her that she didn’t have a coronary on the spot. The hollow click of a gun in her ear, the weight of the man who’d squeezed the trigger, the fact that she wasn’t dead when he tumbled with her down the stairs.
Tumbled down and refused to let her go.
“We die together,” he rasped and somehow strengthened his grip on her. She was pinned beneath him. As he flipped her onto her back, she glimpsed the glazed look of death in his eyes.
“AJ,” she whispered. “Don’t… I can help you.”
“No, you can’t.” He spat hugely to the side. “But I can sure as hell hurt you.” He was panting out the words, and she spied blood around his mouth and nose. “Misery loves company, doc, and I don’t want to die alone. If I’m going to face my judgment, you’re coming with me.”
A knife appeared, smaller than the one Mockerie had threatened to use on her, but plenty large enough to get the job done.
She fought him with her knees and her hands. Her fingernails raked his face, and she thought she must have kicked him at least once between the legs. But he still didn’t release her.
“Say goodbye to this life, doc, and hello to the hereafter.”
The knife rose. She bucked up, twisted her body, and screamed for Johnny.
Lightning flashed, smoke hung in the air. She heard the crackle of flames, saw AJ’s sweaty, bleeding face—then the knife was coming toward her.
“Johnny!”
The blade halted less than a foot from her throat. AJ’s hand simply stopped there, suspended in midair. Shock widened his eyes.
“Son of a bitch…” he croaked. And with one last look down at her, he released a breath and toppled sideways.
Thunder caused the ground to tremble. Melia didn’t wait for AJ to hit the ground before she scrambled out from underneath him and gained her feet. Direction didn’t matter. Escape was her goal. And finding Johnny.
She glanced back once at the shack, consumed by flames. When she turned around, she slammed into something soft but solid and almost catapulted over it. Over him.
“Gomer!” she exclaimed. She grabbed the dog’s collar. “You’re here. Why are you… Where’s Johnny?”
“Look to your right, babe.”
She whirled and spotted him immediately in the dense smoke. “Oh thank God.” Suddenly, she had no energy. Her muscles had turned to rubber, and her entire body began to shake.
Shock, she realized, in the wake of…whatever this had been. A near-death nightmare. A real-life horror story. Night of the Living Dead.
Johnny met her halfway, catching her as she stumbled into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “I thought… I was terrified you might be dead.” She breathed in the scent of his skin, mixed with the smell of wood smoke, greenery, and blood. “But I didn’t really believe you could be.”
“Cat with nine lives,” he agreed. He set his cheek on the top of her head, then hugged her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. “AJ was the last one standing, Mel. Satyr’s gone. It’s over.”
Her heart continued to beat hard and fast. She didn’t want to move, never wanted to leave his arms, but she forced herself to look up at him. “You’re bleeding.”
“We’re all bleeding. You, me, Laidlaw. Even Gomer. He hurt his leg while he was leading me to where you were.”
Whimpering, the dog held up a nicked paw. Melia smiled and, reaching down, ruffled his ears. “Bandage and bone when we get home,” she promised him. Laying her head back on Johnny’s shoulder, she said, “It’s not over. Not as long as there’s a chance Mockerie’s still out there.” She raised her eyes to his. “Did you say Satyr’s gone?”
“Body’s back there in the bushes. He was never going to give up trying to punish me. Not ever. There was no other way to end it.”
“If it really is ended.”
“Yeah, there’s that.” Tipping her head back, he stared down at her. “Let’s say it’s done for now, find Laidlaw, and go home.”
Melia managed a weak smile. “Best idea I’ve heard in years. ‘Hold fast to my heart, my love, as I will to yours. Our time together has only just begun…’”
Chapter Twenty
That was how Satyr had discovered the truth, Johnny realized. When his hotel room had been ransacked in Istanbul, his people had discovered a paper with Melia’s wedding vows written on it. Satyr had reasoned, quite correctly, that if Melia truly meant nothing to Johnny, he wouldn’t be carrying those vows around. He’d actually given Johnny a clue to that effect when they’d spoken on the phone recently. He’d told Johnny to hold fast to his heart.
The paper must have fallen out when he changed to a new wallet. The old one had been in tatters, so he’d broken down and bought a replacement at a nearby market. Stupid, Johnny berated himself. How could he not have noticed that something so important was missing?
The simple fact was he hadn’t, but fortunately, he and Melia had come out on the winning side. Still…sentiment and his inability to let go all the way had almost gotten her killed. Which was the very thing he’d sworn to avoid.
There was also Laidlaw, who’d be off his feet for at least three weeks. And the town’s medical clinic in ashes. Melia’s Ford Explorer, her cousin’s multiple bruises, Gert who’d been poisoned… Ah, but she’d been poisoned by Mabel Travers, not by Ben Satyr. Still…his fault.
They took the rest of the night to recover and get Laidlaw settled in the hospital in Bellwater. He grumbled all the way there, but refused to let Melia give him anything for the pain.
“If it feels like someone’s shoving knives in my thigh, I know I’m alive. Otherwise, I’d swear to God I died back on the old man’s land. All that whiskey up in smoke, too. Man, the town’ll never forgive us. I’ll never forgive us.” Right before she left, he regarded Melia with a lopsided grin. “Glad you’re okay, doc. Johnny, I expect to see some kind of hooch in this room by this time tomorrow.”