My heart rate sped up when the small cushion I sat on shifted under more weight next to me.  The warmth of Kade’s arm brushed against my skin and the slight touch made my body tremble.  Leaning in closer, he brushed his knuckles along my jaw, immediately making my eyes meet his.  So many thoughts were said between us in that stare, so many secrets were shared, so many strings were pulled that I lost myself a little drowning in those eyes.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” he whispered.

“Why would you ask that?”

“You haven’t looked at me all afternoon. Your eyes are constantly on the door, and you look ready to run…Please stay…I didn’t mean to scare you before…” Intense.

“Kade, I’m not scared of you.  There’s just…”

An explosive gritty crack rocked through the bar, a bright flash of light and the sizzling sounds of showering sparks and broken glass shattered out across the room, landing at my feet, and the music died instantly.

Even if I had never heard a gunshot before, it was not one of those sounds that you could mistake this close, but I knew for sure with every heartbeat what it was.  That explosive sound that could deafen for minutes after, the slow motion of events right after, as chaos prepared its introduction. My heart thudded hard and all my muscles tightened into fight mode.  For a half of a second, the room stilled and everything was bathed in thick silence.  The smell of burning wires and acid filled my nose.

“Now that I have all you redneck’s attention, where can I find Samantha Matthews,” the gritty voice said, and I felt it in every cell in my body.  This was it. Game over.  I’d been found.  My muscles tensed. Would he kill me quickly or drag me back home and kill me slowly in front of a live audience?

I still wore the stains of my decisions in slight white scars and discoloring on my skin.  The strong feelings that I once had for my husband were locked in a small hidden box, and once that gunshot rang out, once the knowledge that his heart still beat somewhere, the lid of that box popped right open.  My past exploded like warfare before my eyes. The feelings that I once had of love and comfort were twisted into hate and fear.

Holding Kade’s wide stare, anguish tore through me.  God, please don’t let him kill me in front of Kade. Please, don’t do this to him again. I slid down onto the floor, crawled in front of the safe, and focused on turning the lock without being heard, or missing a damn number.  Kade’s eyes pleaded with me. His hands grabbed after me to stay. His body slid across mine to protect me.  My heart surged in my chest.  Tearing my gaze away from Kade, I focused on the lock to the safe.

“I’m gonna repeat the question one more time.  Where the fuck is Samantha Matthews?” The voice wasn’t familiar, the son-of-a-bitch must have paid someone to hunt me down.  I dialed the lock to the safe.  Right 12.  Left 27… as Kade’s tense muscles hovered over my body mumbling low, just above a breath, in one of those horror movie singsong whispers… “2 exits. 5 windows.  4 customers.  1 waitress.  1 brother.  1 Lainey.  1 shooter.  How many guns…” His hands gripped the flesh on my arms protectively as my heart was pounding through my chest.  Oh, God, he was losing it.

The safe’s door bounced open and I grabbed for Dylan’s gun.  I knew it was there, and I knew it was usually loaded. All I had to do was click the magazine into place and pray the gunman didn’t hear.  Slipping the safety off, I tried to get out from under Kade’s arms.

“Don’t know anybody by the name of Samantha Matthews,” Dylan’s voice said.  Oh, God, Dylan shut the hell up.  I could see him at the other end of the bar, both hands raised, face probably looking into the end of the barrel of a gun, his fingers trembling.

“I’ll just get her to come out then,” the voice laughed dryly, as two more flashes of light and sound exploded from his gun.

Behind the bar, a mere ten feet from me, Dylan dropped instantly.

Jumping up, gun raised, I braced myself for impact.  “Drop the gun,” I said.  From the corner of my eye, I saw George, one of the regulars standing next to Bobby, with his gun already raised right at the shooter’s head.

I adjusted the aim of my gun a few inches to the right until it lined up flawlessly to the shooters forehead, knowing perfectly well George was about to pull his trigger.  Another shot ripped through the bar and the shooter collapsed. Shit, it was Deputy George and Deputy Bobby, as a matter of fact, all four regulars were cops.  The four men moved in sync, two surrounding the shooter’s body, the other two going out to see who else was around.

Bree screamed Dylan’s name, then mine.  It was crushing to hear the primal sound of her heart breaking as she crawled to get to him.  I recognized how scared and freaked she truly was. It was the same way when they told her about Michael. She looked at me then as she looked at me the day they found his body.  Please help me.  I didn’t realize it until then that she’d fallen in love with Dylan.  I nodded to her with watery eyes.

Kade reached Dylan first and slumped down mumbling next to him.  Bree slid next to us hiccupping and sobbing.  “He’s still breathing.  Please help him.  I can’t do this again.  I can’t.  I can’t live through another Michael, Sam.” Her tears spilled, cascading waterfalls of sorrow.  Desperation.

“Bree, get the car and bring me my bag.  Olaes is there.  Get Olaes.  Bring it all,” I said.

Kade was breathing heavily next to me, whispering, “Who the fuck is Elias? Is he a doctor?”

Dylan’s eyes looked into mine; fear and surprise.  “What?  What’s going…what the fu…” His eyes scanned his body, registering the blood.  “Oh, God…oh, God…I don’t want to die.”  His eyes shifted to Kade.  “Kade, I…I don’t want to die.”  Sweat started falling from his brow.

Tearing his shirt off, I scanned the wounds. Hunger and anger bubbled in my chest. Two bullets split through his skin.  Slipping my hands beneath his back, I searched, no exit wound on his back, one ‘through and through’ on his right arm. I was not worried about his arm, because it wasn’t a life-threatening hit, but the one in his torso could be.  It could be.  The scent of fear and metal stung at my nose and the guttural sob that ripped from Kade’s throat was like a steel vise that wrenched around my chest, squeezing so hard I gasped for breath.  I had to stop them, to calm them before their panic spread like frost against glass, freezing and paralyzing them both.  I had to stop them from making everything worse.  My hand shot out to Kade. I laid my bloodied fingers against his cheek and his eyes snapped to mine.  I’ve done this before.  “It feels like you can’t breathe, but you can.  It feels like you’ll never get through this, but you will.”  My own breathing regulated and I offered him an encouraging smile.  “Kade,” I said evenly. I slammed my hands down hard on both of Dylan’s wounds, applying as mush pressure as I could.  “Dylan is doing great.  Let’s keep him talking and thinking about other things and we’re going to get him some help.  Trust me.”

I could hear the men in the background of the bar. They had a cruiser and ambulance on the way.  However, the hospital was at least a twenty-minute drive from there.

Dylan wasn’t going to make that.  My throat thickened as visions of granite headstones stood like soldiers in a field of dead pressed up against the sky.  I pressed the weight of my body against his punctures, smiling…calmly…always show them calmness…always be the comforting voice in the middle of madness.

Bree was next to me in a flash of panting sobs and cold winds, holding my aid bag.  She had the zipper open and a torn Olaes pack in her hand before I could even ask her.

“What…What…What is that?” Dylan was asking.

“This is a tourniquet that’s going to save your life, sweetheart.  This is called an Olaes Modular Bandage.”  Calm him. Talk to him.  “It’s named after a very brave soldier.”

“I…I…don’t want to…to die,” Dylan pleaded.  His words sank in my belly, chilling my bones.

“Not on my watch you won’t,” I answered, wrapping and pressing, sealing and praying.  It wasn’t even a battlefield. This was not his fault. We should have never stayed here. These people were innocent.  Innocent and bleeding, spilling and splattering crimson sunsets across the floor.

Because of me.

Chapter 10

Someone shot the jukebox.