Uncontrollable (The Nature of Grace, Book 2) Page 22

  Wyn scuffles behind me, placing candles around the room. “Well, I know he’s not dead.”

  “Ha-ha.” I move down the hallway. “Maybe I should look for him.”

  Wyn comes to the den entrance and hangs from the door molding. “He’s probably upstairs. This place is a mansion.”

  I open the door to the basement and whisper, “Mo?”

  When I don’t get an answer, I walk down a few steps. Wyn is at my side in a heartbeat. “He told us to stay here.”

  I take another step and hold the flashlight out in front of me. “Last time he told me that, I never saw him again. Well, alive anyway. Until now, I mean.”

  Wyn shakes his head. “Geez, this whole situation is so messed up. How do you find this kind of stuff to get into? You’re just a simple girl from a simple town.”

  “It’s complicated.” I take another step. “You coming?”

  “Do I have a freakin’ choice?” Wyn follows next to me. “Just remember if I die, I’m going to come back, too. But instead of a dead lover-boy, I’m gonna haunt your skinny butt.”

  “You already do.” I take a step, and he squeezes next to me. “Can you not follow?”

  “Why can’t you follow?”

  We make our way down the stairs at the same time, our shoulders pressing into each other. I try to flip on the light without even thinking. The click echoes in the dark, reminding me the power is still out. My flashlight starts to dim. “Gah! Figures. Murphy’s Law.”

  I hit the tube against my hand, trying to knock some light back into. It beams bright and then flickers out.

  Wyn whispers, “Great. Now we gotta climb back up in the dark.”

  “Just give me a second,” I whisper and slap the flashlight against my thigh. It pops on and shines right into a face.

  I scream and drop the light.

  Wyn screams next to me, and I hear him thump down the steps as he falls.

  Mo calls out in the dark, “Crumbs. You guys scared the bejesus out of me.”

  I bend over and pick up the fading flashlight. “Me? What about you? Why didn’t you answer?" I shine the light around, looking for Wyn. He’s lying a few steps down. “Wyn? Are you okay?”

  He curses at my feet. “I think I hurt my leg.”

  I shine the light on him and go to inspect it closer. “It’s just a sprain.”

  He frowns. “Just a sprain? Guess I have to die and resurrect to get any attention around here.”

  “Oh stop being a baby.” I scowl up at Mo. “Why didn’t you say anything? You had me worried.”

  His face shows concern. “I didn’t mean to, I was trying to be quiet.”

  Without saying anything, he grabs Wyn’s arm and swings it around his neck. I can’t help but smile, knowing how much Wyn hates that Mo is carrying him up the stairs. At the top, we sneak back into the living room and turn off the flashlights. Wyn grunts as Mo lays him on the couch.

  Then Mo lowers his voice. “There’s definitely someone out there.”

  My hands are still trembling. “Do you know who it is?”

  “No, but my Jeep’s tires were flat, and I saw fresh footsteps around the cabin.”

  Wyn rubs his leg. “Maybe they were mine.”

  I think for a second and put my hands on my hips, frowning at Mo. “Wait. You went outside?”

  Mo wrinkles his face. “Yes.”

  I hit him. “Why in the world would you do that? You could’ve been hurt.”

  He pulls a gun out of the back of his pants. “I wanted to be sure I could protect you.”

  Wyn groans. “You left your gun in the car too? This is like something out of a bad movie.”

  Mo’s jaw flexes. I can tell he’s getting frustrated with Wyn’s jabs and constant comments, but before he can say anything, I face Wyn.

  “Shut up. We need to work together, and the peanut gallery is not helping.”

  Wyn mumbles. “Just saying it wasn’t smart.”

  Mo cracks under the pressure. “Look, I know it was daft of me, but I solved the problem. So on your bike.”

  Wyn laughs. “On your bike? Oh, gee, you got me there.” He looks at me. “And you think that’s sexy?”

  “I’m not doing this with you. You can either help us, or shut up about it.” I bite my lip. “I don’t think you realize what’s going on here.”

  “Yeah. I do. Porter is whacked and Sweeney is about to arrest him.”

  Mo puts his gun on the side table. “Only we don’t know if it’s Porter at all.”

  I gasp and my legs collapse beneath me as the obvious hits me. “Oh, God. It’s Al.” I start rubbing my hands together. “He’s going to kill me. I know it.”

  “Way to go, knight in shining armor,” Wyn says. “Send the damsel in distress into complete hysteria.”

  Mo kneels down next to me. “I’m sorry. I was just being honest.”

  Wyn mumbles. “There’s a first.” He points to the front window. “You sure this place is locked up tight?” When Mo nods, he reassures me. “There’s no way Al is getting in here.”

  I hug my knees and start to rock. “If he can find a way out of the ropes I knotted, he can get in here. Easily.”

  Wyn’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, come to think of it. How did he get out of that?” He stares right at Mo.

  Mo looks surprised. “Don’t look at me. I wasn’t even near him. Sweeney got me the hell out of those woods before anyone could see me.”

  Wyn doesn’t look convinced. “Well, someone must have set him free.”

  I keep staring at the ground. “Maybe I didn’t tie them good enough. I wasn’t in the best state of mind.”

  Wyn reaches over and cups my hand. “If you say you tied it, I know you did a dang good job.”

  Mo notices Wyn’s hand on mine, then he looks at me. I pull my hand away. I can tell by Mo’s face, he’s on the edge, and Wyn’s pushing him too far.

  I pat Mo’s knee. “Let’s just focus. What do we do?”

  “We hope Sweeney gets to us before anyone else.”

  Survival Skill #29

  Watch out for impulsive reactions, irrational behavior, and poorly thought-out decisions easily caused by frustration and anger.

  A few minutes later, a crunching sound comes from outside.

  Mo grabs his gun and heads out of the room. I race after him, leaving Wyn lying on the couch mumbling. Part of me feels bad. I know Wyn is moody because of me. He’s never mad or down, yet somehow I’ve pushed him to a breaking point. I hate that I’ve done it. He’s my best friend. But I love Mo, and I can’t let Wyn think otherwise. It wouldn’t be fair.

  Mo stands at the window. “I think it’s Sweeney.”

  My body relaxes. “Thank God.”

  He runs one hand through his hair. “Let’s not get too cocky. We don’t know what’s going on yet.”

  Agent Sweeney’s ranger truck pulls up the circular driveway and stops. He gets out of the driver’s side and walks toward us cautiously, gun drawn.

  Mo unlocks the front door. “I’d better go out and cover him. Just in case.” We walk out onto the porch. “You stay here.” But before Mo can take another step, a gunshot rings out.

  Agent Sweeney barely has time to raise his gun when he’s hit. He yells and spins around before collapsing to the ground.

  I hear myself scream out as Mo tears down the steps toward him.

  All I can do is stand there. My feet are stuck to the wooden floor as flashes of being back in the woods cloud my vision. Screams, gunshots, chaos. Tommy going down. Carl raising his gun. Mo getting hit. Al charging and shooting Dad. The chaos forces me to check out.

  I don’t hear anything except Mo’s voice. “Grace! Get inside!”

  I shake my head to snap out of my daze and turn, running back indoors. Once I’m safe inside, I slam the door and lock it behind me. Wyn hobbles out of the living room.

  “What the hell?”

  I shriek. “Call 911!”

  He shakes his head. “Can’t. The phones are out,
and Mo has the cell phone.”

  I knock my head on the glass and eye the ranger truck. “Sweeney’s radio! Maybe I can get to it?”

  Wyn limps up behind me. “Over my dead body you’re going out there. I know how these kinds of situations pan out. And so do you.”

  I press my face against the cold glass. What do I do? The panic and fear inside me have taken over, and I don’t know if I could get outside if I wanted to. My legs don’t seem to be working. I watch as Mo drags Sweeney behind the car just as another shot rings out. He hits the deck, and I can’t tell if he’s been shot or not.

  This cannot be happening again.

  I hear another shot ring out. In that split second, I make a decision. I’m not sitting here and letting Mo get hurt again in any way. I scream his name and grab the handle to open the door, but Wyn blocks it with his body.

  “No! We have to wait. You can’t go out there.”

  I growl at him. “Get out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you.” I shove Wyn aside, which sends him stumbling backward on his bad ankle. I don’t stop to see if he’s okay. I can’t. Mo and Sweeney are all I can think about. I throw open the door and run in a crouched position onto the porch.

  “Grace! No!” Mo screams at me.

  He’s cradling Sweeney with one hand and waving me back with the other. In that moment, I’m conflicted. Go to Mo and help, or slink back inside with my tail between my legs and let people die?

  I already know how that second option pans out.

  I hid with Dad in the cave and look where it got me. He still died as I sat there and watched.

  I ignore Mo’s demands and run to the porch steps as a bullet whizzes past my head. I’m so stunned I forget to hit the deck. Instead, I look over and spot a shadowy figure walking on the edge of the dark woods. An arm is stretched out, and a gun is pointed right at me.

  Mo screams, “Watch out!”

  He jumps up and leaves Sweeney lying behind the car. He bolts toward me just as a loud bang explodes.

  Before I can move or duck or dive, a bullet clips my shoulder. As I’m falling, everything slows down. I see Mo running toward me. His face is distorted in rage, but he’s running so slowly, it’s like he’ll never reach me in time. I slam onto the deck and land on my back. My head hits the pole, and stars twinkle in my eyesight. I writhe in pain as fire shoots across my shoulder and down my arm.

  “No! No!” Mo yells like a madman.

  I lie on my side with my eyes wide open, suddenly feeling nothing. I watch as Mo squats down in a stance and open fires on the dark figure in the trees. My head is so foggy, I can’t count how many bullets it sends. One? Two? The figure drops with a loud thud and doesn’t move.

  Mo calls out to Sweeney. “He’s down.”

  Wyn appears at my side. He lifts my head and props me on his leg. “Jesus, G. I told you not to go outside.”

  “Stay with her.” Mo stands above me with his gun drawn.

  I grimace, forcing out words. “You have to tie something around my arm.”

  Wyn takes off his button-down, leaving him in nothing but a t-shirt, and wraps my arm as I keep my eyes on Mo. It’s like I’m afraid if I look away for one second, he’ll disappear and I’ll never see him again.

  Mo slowly moves down the steps and methodically approaches the gunman, never dropping his weapon. He suddenly seems so much older to me. He’s seen his father die, and he isn’t afraid to use a gun on someone. How circumstances in life force us to grow older is crazy.

  He uses his foot to kick the shadow’s gun away and then kneels next to him. Mo stays alert as he reaches over and checks the figure’s pulse. He lowers his gun and looks at me then shakes his head.

  I let my head fall back against the deck and close my eyes.

  Thank God, Al is dead.

  And I didn’t even have to see his face.

  Survival Skill #30

  When our fight or flight system is activated, everything in our environment can be perceived as a possible threat.

  Everything speeds back up again, and before I know it, Mo practically trips up the steps and crumbles at my side. “Bloody hell! Grace, let me see.”

  Wyn moves back and lets him take over.

  Mo moves my bloody hand and checks my shoulder. Tears spring into his eyes. “You’re going to be okay.”

  I hate seeing Mo so upset. Over me. “Isn’t that what they say to people who are about to die?”

  He frowns. “That’s not funny. You’re lucky the bullet just grazed you.”

  “My first gunshot and it’s not even real?” I clench my teeth in pain.

  He shakes his head and strokes my face. “You’re crazy. Why did you do that? I told you to stay back.”

  I breathe hard and buckle in agony. “I listened to you last time, and I lost you.”

  “You are so frustrating.” He kisses my forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I try to smile through the pain throbbing in my shoulder and down my arm. “You can’t get rid of me. I just took a bullet for you.”

  I immediately think of the oath I made to Seth that I never got a chance to keep and go silent.

  Mo looks up at Wyn who’s leaning against the door. “Can you get me a towel?”

  Wyn salutes and doesn’t hide the fact that he’s annoyed. He limps back inside. “Yes, sir.”

  Sweeney’s not moving when I look in his direction. It’s like someone has pressed replay, only this time instead of Tommy, it’s Sweeney.

  I whisper to Mo. “Is… is he alive?”

  Mo shakes his head. “He was, but I’m not sure how bad it is. Everything happened too fast.”

  “Go check. I’m fine.”

  He stands just as Wyn limps back out of the house and throws the towel at his head. It hits Mo in the back.

  Wyn snaps. “You always protect her this well?”

  Mo doesn’t respond. He simply moves toward the steps, his eyes on Sweeney.

  “Wyn, stop,” I say, trying to head off his pending fit.

  He pokes Mo in the back. “Hey, look at me. I’m serious. Ever since you met her, bad things have happened, and she always gets hurt one way or another. You’re not good for her.”

  Mo faces Wyn. “Back off.”

  Wyn pokes him again. “I won’t. You back off.”

  Mo locks his jaw and gets in Wyn’s face. “Don’t be mistaken. I’ve put up with your crap for her. I wouldn’t give a monkey’s uncle about you. Touch me again, and I can’t promise I’ll be a gentleman any longer.”

  He lets go of Wyn and turns his back to walk down the steps, but Wyn charges him from behind.

  I force myself to sit up “Stop it! Wyn!”

  At that last minute, Mo moves one step to the side, and Wyn goes down on his bad ankle.

  Wyn charges again. This time plowing into Mo’s stomach.

  Mo grabs him, teeth gritted together and eyes dark.

  I start to cry. Not only from the serious pain screaming through my body, but also from the total breakdown happening before my eyes between the two guys I love most. All because of me. My voice shakes and I even spit a little when I talk.

  “Mo… please don’t.”

  Mo stops and glances over at me. His eyes soften when he sees how upset I am, and he tosses Wyn aside like he’s a doll. He kneels next to me and holds my face. “I’m sorry.”

  I nod. “Just go to Sweeney. He needs you. Please.”

  Wyn groans on the porch beside me.

  When Mo walks away, I reach over and hit his arm. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Defending you.” He sits up and moves closer.

  I cock my head and look up at him with tears in my eyes “No, you’re hurting me. This is not helping. At all. In case you haven’t noticed, Sweeney is down. Someone is dead. And I’ve been shot in the arm. So excuse me if your ego needs to take a backseat.”

  I move a little and grunt from the pain that shoots through my body.

  He sighs and wipes off his pan
ts. “This isn’t about my ego.” He checks the bind on my arm and adjusts it.

  I watch his face as he studies my wound. “Then what is it?”

  “I’m better for you than he is.”

  I sigh and hold his hand. “That’s not for you to say. It’s my decision. We already talked about this and we agreed—”

  “You talked. I listened. And I don’t know if I agree with anything anymore.”

  Before I can answer him, Mo comes up the driveway holding a bloody towel. He scowls at Wyn.

  “If you’re man enough to pick a fight, then you’re man enough to help me bring Sweeney inside.”

  Relief relaxes my body some. “He’s okay?”

  Mo nods and smiles. “Well, he’s alive. Sweeney’s too stubborn to die, but I need to stop the bleeding and get him some help.” He looks back over his shoulder at the other man still lying in the gravel. “I’m going to radio this in.”

  I look over at the figure still lying on the ground. “You sure he’s dead?”

  “Yes.”

  I lay my head back against the wall. “Thank God. I’ll never have to worry about Al again.”

  Mo is silent for a minute. “It wasn’t Al.”

  I check his eyes to see if this is a joke or if he’s mistaken, but Mo’s face is hard and serious.

  I whisper, “What?”

  “It’s not Al. It’s Porter.”

  I don’t know if I’m devastated it isn’t Al or happy it’s Porter. What I do know is I was right this whole time in thinking Porter was responsible for Seth’s death.

  I scan the woods. But if Porter’s here, that means Al’s still out there.

  Somewhere.

  Survival Skill #31

  Take note of details when in a stressful situation.

  Later, they may form a different picture.

  Inside, Agent Sweeney is placed in the chair, and I’m seated on the couch.

  Candles still light the house, and a fire roars in the fireplace with its orange flames popping and sizzling. Sweeney coughs and holds his bandaged side.

  “Man. What a crappy day,” he says.