As bad as it was though, I'd felt worse – and if there was one thing the pain was doing, it was making me focus. Making me sharp. Paul grinned and slipped another knife out of a second sheath in his boot. It was smaller, but the blade looked just as sharp and I knew if I didn't put him down and end this quickly, it might not end the way I wanted it to.
If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I needed to put Paul down. I needed to keep him away from Abby and protect her at all costs.
I staggered forward, grimacing and grunting in pain. I fell to my knees and doubled over, clutching my wounded side. As I howled in pain, I slipped the knife out of the sheath I had on my belt and waited, grunting in pain, working hard to sell it. I was playing it up and really overacting, hoping that Paul would take the bait.
He did.
Believing I was injured too badly to be a threat, Paul strode toward me, a look of malignant delight on his face. He loomed over me, his face etched with a manic sort of glee. The blade was still clutched in his hand, but he hesitated once more. This time, he hesitated not out of fear of killing me – I thought he'd somehow quickly gotten past that – but to savor the moment. He'd defeated me. He was the conqueror. Victory was his – and to the victor went the spoils. In this case, the spoils of victory was Abby.
I took the opening he gave me and, without hesitation, drove my blade into his gut. His eyes widened and he looked at me and then down at the knife protruding from his belly. Blood blossomed around the blade and begin to roll down his shirt. His own blade fell to the ground with a hard thud and he stared at the blade like he didn't know what it was or how it got there.
I got to my feet, a victorious little smile tugging at the corner of my own mouth. Grabbing Paul by the hair, I lifted his head, forcing him to look me in the eye. When he did, I saw panic on his face. Terror. I saw a man who did not want to die.
“Let me just tell you now, if you ever, and I do mean ever, come near Abby again,” I said, my voice colder than Minnesota in winter, “you are going to pay a hefty price for it.”
“Fuck you,” he managed to croak.
I pulled my arm back and then unleashed it, driving it straight into his face. He was out cold before he even hit the ground. I staggered backward, the pain starting to overwhelm me. I fell to my knees and tried to hold on to consciousness. I fell backward, onto the driveway, and stared up at the sky. I watched big, fluffy clouds floating by.
Then Abby's face entered my field of vision, and the sound of sirens shattered the still air around us, growing louder by the moment – she'd called the cops. Hopefully, she'd had the foresight to call an ambulance to go along with it.
“You're safe now, Abby,” I said. “You're safe.”
Tears rolled down her face, splashing upon my skin. She looked at me with fear and grief in her eyes. I guess my wound was worse than I thought if she looked like I already had a foot in the grave. She laid my head in her lap and leaned down, kissing me on the forehead.
“You're going to be fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. “You're going to be just fine. You'll see. You have to be, because we have a conversation that must be had. You have to be fine.”
“Abby, it's okay – ”
“Ssshhh,” she said. “Don't speak. It's going to be okay. You'll be okay.”
My vision began to waver and grow dark at the edges. The sirens grew impossibly loud, and just as the sky around me started to pulse with the red and blue lights of the sirens, the darkness overwhelmed me. It claimed me, pulled me under, and I knew no more.
CHAPTER TEN
ABBY
The bright, white fluorescent lights of the hospital were giving me a headache. As was the overpowering stench of the antiseptic cleaner they used. It smelled like a combination of bleach and oranges. It was enough to turn my stomach.
I stared up at the ceiling and counted the row of lights for the hundredth time. Waiting was the hardest part. I wasn't the most patient person by nature, but when it was something as stressful as this, my impatience grew even worse. Chase hadn't been released yet, so we couldn't see each other. Which meant I was alone. Thankfully, though, because of Chase, I was safe.
Paul had been arrested and, after being treated for his wounds, had been taken away. Far, far away. Chase was going to live, the news bringing me a greater sense of relief than anything else in my life ever had. Chase was going to live. That was all that mattered.
I was fine, just waiting for the results of tests I didn't need run. I wasn't the one battling it out in the driveway. Maybe it was shock but, except for the headache, I felt fine. Okay, I was less than fine. I was exhausted, my entire body feeling heavy and overcome with the intense need to sleep.
I couldn't sleep though. It was a lost cause. I was still riding an adrenaline high – and honestly, I didn’t know when I would come down from it. Probably not while Chase was still being held here. There was also way too much going on around me for me to get any decent sort of rest. There was too much noise and too many people coming in and out of my room. I kept asking to see Chase but, so far, nobody had made our little reunion a priority. I needed to see him though. I needed to thank him for saving me from Paul. There weren't a lot of men out there who'd be willing to take a literal knife for you.
I sighed and started counting the ceiling tiles this time, frustrated, scared and bored. I jumped and let out a small squeak, though, when there was a knock at the door – a knock that was quickly followed by Chase's voice.
“Hey, you,” he said quietly.
His posture was a little stiff, and he held his side as he walked into the room. He grimaced and I saw that his face was etched with pain, but he was smiling – and that smile went all the way to his eyes. He was okay. I was okay. No matter what happens from there on out – we were the survivors, and we never had to deal with Paul again.
Chase sat down at the side of my hospital bed, taking my hand in his. He kissed the back of my knuckles gently, pressing his lips to my skin and setting my heart fluttering. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, a powerful wave of relief washing through me. I felt the tension in my shoulders release the moment he sat down beside me. I looked at him and, somehow, managed to feel better about things.
“Hay is for horses,” I said.
It was a bad joke, but it still made us both chuckle. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of my nose, then moved lower to my lips, quickly pressing his mouth to mine. It was just a chaste little peck, nothing serious, but it warmed my entire body and made me open my eyes with a newfound energy flowing through me.
He stroked my hair, pushing a few loose strands back from my face and just stared at me, long and hard. It was almost like he was checking me over to make sure it was really me, that I was still alive and well. I squeezed his hand and gave him a smile, reassuring him that I was, indeed, alive and well.
“They released you, huh?” I asked.
“Yep. Said it was just a scratch. Nothing vital damaged at all,” he said. “Gave me some stupid pain pills, even though I told 'em I wouldn't need them. Ibuprofen usually does fine for things like that.”
“Get stabbed often, do you?” I asked, laughing.
“Farming is dangerous work,” he said, returning my smile.
“It's their job, baby,” I said softly. “They wouldn't want you to get home and not have anything to help if you needed it. Worst case scenario, you don't use them and they sit in your bathroom for ten years.”
“I suppose so,” he said. “But I'm more worried about you.”
“I'm alive,” I said with a crooked grin.
Our hands rested on my belly and I stared down at where our fingers were intertwined on top of me. Was it a coincidence? Or was Chase giving me a subtle, subconscious sign that he was concerned not just for me, but for our potential baby as well?
“About earlier,” I said. “I know – ”