Pam Godwin - Deliver

Camila paused in her effort to kick gravel over a patch of blood-stained dirt. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

The red slicking Liv’s cleavage gleamed in the headlights as her chest heaved. She unwound their hands and walked toward the van. “We need to wrap this up.”

He shoved his fingers through his hair, watching the uncharacteristic wobble in her retreating strides. “Camila, why didn’t she tell me about you? About this?” He gestured at Ricky and Luke, who were pouring jugs of acrid-smelling vinegar over the crime scene.

“She freed you,” she said, softly. “When you return, you’ll be swept into the investigation of your disappearance. Lots of interrogations.” She jerked her chin at the group. “How are you going to keep this a secret? We’re killing people, Josh. And Liv is crazy protective of our identities. In fact, she’s terrified her expressions or reactions around Mr. E and Van will give us away. So she lies to herself when she’s in that house. She thinks of us as dead.” She turned toward Kate, whose eyes were glazed and distant, and stroked her hair. “Until she needs us.”

Across the road, Liv leaned against the passenger door of the van, stripping her boots and wiping the blood from her chest with a t-shirt, her expression downcast and inwardly focused. He never once suspected this endgame, and he liked to think he knew her better than anyone else did.

He watched her with a renewed appreciation for her mystery. She was a complicated puzzle, one he planned to enjoy for the rest of his life.

A new life. What did that look like? He wouldn’t return to his old life without her. Yet, she’d sent him on his way as if she expected him to do just that. His spine tingled. “She wouldn’t have freed me unless she had a solution to save her family.”

Kate’s shoulders bunched as she watched Liv wrestle with the front clasps of the bodice. “She’s going to kill herself.”

His nostrils flared, his pulse spiking in objection. “Did she tell you that?”

Her head shook as she hugged herself. “I was just thinking about her behavior since we left the house. She cried a lot on the way here. Then her voice grew cold and weird. She started singing “Last Resort”, you know, that suicide song by Papa Roach. Definitely not her usual genre of music.”

Muscle-clenching fear shot through his legs. He sprinted toward Liv, watching her movements, his entire body aware of her fingers on her corset and her feet pacing in a tight circle. Did she have a weapon on her? Would she attempt it right there? In front of him?

He skidded before her and slapped her hands from her belly. “Do you have a blade under your clothes?” He wiggled the remaining hooks free, dropped the corset, and tackled her bra, searching the seams. “Answer me.”

“Fuck you.” She gripped his arms, tried to stop his hands from unclasping the back hooks.

The bra dropped, her breasts bare and streaked with red. No weapon. He dropped to her latex shorts, shoved them past her hips.

“What the hell are you doing?” She glowered down at him, kicking off her shorts like she was going to kick him.

Well, screw her. He was a breath away from tying her up. He opened the passenger door and shifted her until the door gawk-blocked her nudity from the nosy onlookers.

With her arm twisting in his grasp, he pulled her chest against him and pinned her back against the inside of the door, his voice low and vibrating. “Did you consider me in your suicide plans?”

A gasp shuddered through her. Good. Let her feel some of his wretched horror.

Her shoulders rose, and her eyes sparked. “Yes, I thought of you. So much so I made a covenant with my heart to stop cutting you with its jagged, damaged pieces.” She spat the words, her voice growing louder, her eyes watering. “Don’t you see how wrong I am? I’m a kidnapper. A murderer. A fucking monster.”

“I see all of you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to her temple. “I claim every jagged piece of you.”

She shoved at his chest, tears escaping, screaming, “I freed you. For you.”

His feet dug in, his arms caging her against the door. He put his face in hers and stared directly into her eyes. “And I will free you. From you.”

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. She seemed to be struggling to hold her composure in place. Then a heartbreaking sound keened in her throat. She grabbed him, clinging, her arms twining around his neck, her thighs climbing his body.

He hoisted her backside and wrapped her legs around his waist. His heart fractured and bled out, but as he held tightly to her trembling body, his fortitude strengthened and beat anew.

With her face against his neck, her rushed breaths stroked his skin. “Staying alive is the most selfish thing I’ve done. Every day I live risks them.” She gestured behind her. “And you. Mom. Mattie.”

“Yet you rise out of the storm, faultless and upright.” He gripped her chin, angled it until he won her eyes. “With every delivery, you release another captive. Then you return to your cell to begin the cycle again. The predators exist with or without you. You lure them out, and stop them from preying elsewhere.”

She peered up at him, lips parted, her body going soft in his arms.

He kissed her lips, treasured the salty tears there, and rested his forehead against hers. “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone. You were the first slave. The one who has never been freed.” He cupped her beautiful, tear-stained face, and traced the scar with his thumb. “Don’t give up. On me. On us.”

The hammer of her heart against his chest slowed with her breaths. She hugged him tighter, nodded. “Thank you for coming. For shooting that man.” She trailed a finger over his lips, watching the movement. “You saved me.” She glanced up. “You can mark that off your to-do list.”

She still needed saving, as did her family.

Camila strode toward them and held out Liv’s handgun. He snatched it before Liv could and set it inside the glove box, along with Mom’s PT-22.

Camila’s face creased with concern. “You won’t come home with us, will you?”

The others talked amongst themselves in the background.

“She sure as hell ain’t going to kill herself.”

“Fuck no. But she can’t go back to that house.”

“He’s right. We need her. Our lives, this whole operation, is fucking pointless if she’s dead.”

Liv untangled her body from his, wiped her cheeks, and shook her head. “I have to go back.”

Using the wet rag Camila held out for him, he wiped Liv’s face, neck, and arms, removing the remnants of blood. The others hovered around the sedan, grumbling, dismantling the cell phones, and pocketing the cash and other valuables that had belonged to the dead men.

Questions piled up in his aching head about the dangers of this operation. “What do you do with bodies and evidence?” He tossed the rag back to Camila.

“I’ll explain on the way back.” Liv grabbed a t-shirt from the passenger seat and pulled it on. “We need to go.”

“What do we do with the Honda?” He handed her a pair of jeans.

“Where is it?”

“About a quarter-mile back.” He pointed down the road. “Keys are in the ignition.”

“It’s yours,” Liv said to Camila as she dressed. “I was supposed to get rid of it anyway.”

With the bodies stuffed in the sedan and the road cleared of blood, they said their good-byes. The guys hugged Liv a bit longer than he thought was needed, but there was no talk of future contact. Everyone knew the stakes, and no one had a solution.

Kate lifted a hand to him and gave a small smile. Her demeanor seemed to already be transforming, her chin lifting higher, her shoulders relaxing. She would be fine. Probably better than fine with that fierce pack of protectors.

“I’m driving.” Liv climbed in the van, her gaze lingering on her friends.

Some of them slid into the buyer’s sedan. The others faded into the woods. Her expression was wistful as she watched them leave, her fingers curling around the wheel.

“You’ll see them again.” He would make sure of it. “Under better circumstances.” He hoped.

As he moved her extra clothes from the passenger seat to the floor, his hand brushed a folded piece of paper. He held onto it.

The van crunched along the gravel road, the same path he’d taken by foot in his race to catch up with her. At the time, he’d had Mom’s pistol out and ready with no intention of using it. But when he saw that gun aim at Liv, it was a terrible ache, a flashing of his own life, a loss of breath. There was no falter in pulling his trigger. No guilt. She was alive.

He put on his seat belt and unfolded the paper in his hand.

“Don’t read that.” She stared straight ahead, navigating the winding road, her expression lost in the darkness.

When he flicked on the ceiling lamp, she tried to grab the paper from his hand. He caught her wrist, pinned it to her thigh, and held up a letter that was addressed to Van.

Van,

The reasons that chained me here were my reasons to go.

I’ve never asked you for anything. I’m asking now.

Keep them safe.

Liv

Every mournful word stabbed Josh in the gut. As he read to himself, Liv stared straight ahead, her jaw locked in unapologetic stubbornness. He folded up the note, turned off the light, and spoke as calmly as he could. “You were going to do this at the house?”

“Where he’d find me.” Liv’s whisper was cautious.