Taming Her Beast Page 12

  “It was fate, don’t you see?” Finn says. “I really tried to get on the straight and narrow. I was doing well. I was off the drugs—stupid mistake, in hindsight, because drugs make me so much more fun. But for a while there, yeah, I was on the wagon. I was doing my talks. Do you remember?”

  I just stare, wishing I had a gun, a hammer, anything so that I could do harm to this twisted man.

  “And then what do I hear when I get there? Somebody calling out your name, Millie, Millie. And I say to myself, holy shit, that’s the name of the girl who survived the flames. So I ask them if your surname is Green, and it is, and I ask if you survived a fire, and you had … So I looked at you. I looked at you and tried to make you see. But you wouldn’t. You refused. You rejected me and I was so fucking torn up about it I had to go and get shitfaced that day. You did that to me, Millie. Why couldn’t you just accept me for who I was?”

  For a moment he looks almost human, his lips quivering, tears rising to his eyes as he stares at me.

  He’s a lunatic. He means every freaking word. He’s unhinged.

  “I was a child,” I gasp. “I didn’t know who you were. Surely you can see how wrong that is?”

  “Wrong?” he cackles. “We were bound in blood and flames. There’s nothing more right than that.”

  “So this is what you were talking about?” Markus says, turning so that he stands sideways, half facing me and half facing Finn.

  He glares at me, but behind it, in the depths of those perceptive green eyes, I see something.

  A plan.

  Just go with it, his looks roars.

  “All those times I just wanted us to be close and intimate,” Markus goes on, “and you kept saying you couldn’t give yourself to me, because you were promised to the fire. Jesus, Millie, is this what you meant?”

  I glance at Finn. His eyes are wide and fascinated, his mouth hanging open.

  I feel sick as I toss my hair, forcing myself to say the words.

  And then what?

  I trust Markus, but where is he going with this?

  “I tried to fight it,” I say. “But the flames called to me.”

  I hope that sounds crazy enough.

  “Fuck’s sake,” Markus snaps. “Fine, then. If you want the fire so much, you can have it. Take her. Come and get her.”

  Finn flinches for a moment. He moves as if to look around at his goons, and I sense that he does this when his grip on reality becomes particularly tenuous, as though he needs to check with them that whatever he’s doing is the right thing—or whatever breed of right they ascribe to.

  “Please,” I say, hating the words, hating this whole giant mess. “I need the flames, Finn. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have fought it. But I’m done pretending. I need the flames. I need the blood.”

  What am I saying?

  Finn walks toward us like a man possessed.

  A man with an eagle tattooed on his neck takes a step forward. “Boss, you might not want to—”

  “The flames,” I yell, raising my voice over his. “I can feel them. They’re burning me. They’re scorching me up. They’re taking me.”

  “The flames,” Finn repeats as though caught in a spell. “They’re burning me … they’re scorching me up … they’re taking me …”

  “I’m done with this,” Markus snaps. “You two deserve each other.”

  He takes a step forward, as though meaning to walk past Finn and toward his Chevy. His acting is so good that for a moment I believe he’s really going to stride away and leave me here.

  But at the last moment, he snaps, moving so quickly it’s like he’s the wind, a force of nature.

  Finn gasps as Markus bulk surges toward him.

  Lava’s barks rise louder.

  A gunshot goes off, echoing all around us.

  Somebody screams.

  And then I realize it’s me.

  I’m the one screaming.

  Because Markus is bleeding.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Markus

  I grab his wrist and redirect his aim at the last second, the gunshot hitting me in the upper arm instead of the center mass of my body. I feel it tear my skin and hear it hit the ground behind me, and I think, Thank fucking God. The thought comes to me in a flash as my body move in autopilot, the pulsing flare in my arm nothing compared to my deafening need to protect my woman.

  With a roar, I drag his wrists upward so that it snaps audibly. He yelps and stumbles backward, and I use the momentum to swing him around, still holding onto the gun, and throw his legs into the man with the eagle tattoo on his neck.

  “Fuck,” the man grunts, when both of them go toppling down.

  I grab the gun—raise it.

  The men leap on me and with a violent punch knock it from my hand.

  I make to dive for it, but so do the other men and soon we’re lost in a tangle of confused limbs and violence and mayhem.

  Somewhere Lava is barking, somewhere Millie is screaming, somewhere, somewhere … but all I know is the whirring closeness of the fight, my fists lashing out despite the throbbing in my arm.

  I duck a sweeping right hook and then come up with two vicious jabs to a stomach, pausing too long and taking a solid jab to my jaw.

  I grunt and dodge the next one, spinning so that my elbow clatters into a mouth, dislocating something, and then I carry through and hit another man with a spinning back fist.

  Pop, the sound of bone breaking, and then I slide backward and grab another’s arm and throw him into two of his buddies, the three of them falling like pinballs.

  We all circle the gun, the prize in the center of it all, the blood seeping into my shirt and dripping down my hand, making my grip slick as I dive and grip the back of a man’s neck, lashing my hand up with a ferocious speed that leaves him with no chance to react.

  I use him as a shield, squeezing so that all he can do is squirm and cry as I yank him in front of me.

  Several blows meant for me land on him in the confusion of the fight, the man screaming at them to stop, to leave him alone.

  I toss him aside and spin around, always keeping near the gun, fists raised and head ducked in a fighter’s stance.

  The world recedes.

  Sound stops.

  All I know is the fight and what I have to do.

  All I know is Millie, our future, and that I can never let anything happen to her.

  A quick scan—two of the men are clumsily climbing to their feet, but don’t look fit enough to fight.

  The remaining five, including Finn, are spreading out around me, a couple of them with knives in their hands now. Finn’s gaze snaps to the pistol on the ground.

  He leaps.

  I jump forward and launch into a flying knee, connecting with his nose and causing a torrent of red blood to spray into the air and onto the ground.

  The force of it almost sends me toppling completely over, and I have to grab onto another man’s shoulders to stop from falling.

  I end up dragging him to the ground and just about manage to roll over so that the kicks aimed at me land on him.

  I toss him up and spring to my feet, spinning into a whirlwind of violence, not thinking, not even feeling anymore.

  I just act, the same way I acted when I was overseas when training became everything, and instincts blotted personality when I just was whatever the fuck I needed to be.

  I catch a fist and crush it.

  Crunch.

  Breaking all the bones in the motherfucker’s hand.

  I dodge a hissing knife and grab him at the wrist and wrench him downward, bringing my knee up in another bloody kiss to his nose.

  Another knife—I spin around to the back of him, pushing him so hard that he falls onto his face, letting out an animal screech of pain.

  We all pause again, circling the gun, every single one of them sporting an injury now.

  Four of them are out of the fight, limping and whining and barely standing up.


  Finn and Eagle Neck and another stalk toward me, Finn gripping a knife, wheezing loudly with each breath from where I broke his nose.

  “What about the fire?” Finn moans, words distorted with his injury. “What about the blood?”

  “You’re a sick motherfucker,” I snarl. “She was a child. She came here to get away from you. And you followed her. You tormented her. You tried to ruin her life. Did you really think I’d let a bastard like you ruin my woman’s life?”

  He screams as he runs forward, but I sense that his men want to run away instead. They move cautiously, too cautiously.

  I dart forward and feint to the left, causing all three of them to move in that direction.

  And then I throw myself to the right and unleash a flurry of well-aimed punches, shattering ribs and jaws and then spinning backward, away.

  I lean down and scoop up the gun and fire a shot into the air, my eyes narrowed at the men.

  I lower the gun and aim it at them.

  “All of you on the ground, now,” I say firmly. “In a circle on the fucking ground or I swear to God, I’ll kill you, every goddamn last one of you. Now.”

  The men drag their broken bodies into a tight huddle on the blood and snow-wet lawn. I keep the gun trained on them, wincing a little when my shoulder wound gives a hot spike. I glance at it, glad to see that the bleeding is slowing now.

  Still, it hurts like a motherfucker.

  “Millie,” I call, not taking my eyes off Finn or his men.

  “Yes?” she yells back from the house.

  Lava has stopped barking.

  I didn’t notice it in the fray, but Millie must’ve gotten Jackie free and gotten them all into the house. Pride whelms in my chest.

  “The police?”

  “They’re on their way,” she says.

  “Good,” I growl, hefting the gun at Finn. “There’s just one last thing you’ve gotta do, you fucking bastard.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “Apologize,” I snarl.

  “W-what?” he says.

  There must be some ungodly fury in my eyes as I step forward and level the gun at his head. His face drops and his mouth hangs open in terror for a moment, but then he tries to mask it with bluster.

  “Tell her you’re sorry. Do it now.”

  “No way,” Finn says, sounding like an insolent child. “I have nothing to apologize—”

  I fire a well placed shot into the ground at his feet, causing him to squeal like a trapped animal and several of his men to flinch despite their injuries.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he bleats, bringing his hands to his face in a shivering cry. “Okay, Millie? I’m sorry.”

  “I hope you burn in hell, Finn,” Millie calls out, her voice strangled with savage intensity.

  I step back, making sure to keep my distance between us at all times. There’s no way I’m going to make the same mistake this asshole did and get close enough for him to get his hands on me, not that I think he’d be able to do much.

  The ground he and his men sit on is turning a deep rusty red with the combined outpouring of their injuries.

  “Why would you bastards follow this idiot?” I snap, eyes moving over his overinflated goons.

  “Why do you think?” Eagle Neck sighs. “Money, just money.”

  “Yeah, well we’ll see how that helps you in prison.”

  “We can make a deal,” Finn blubbers. “We can—”

  I whip another shot just past his head, hitting the ground behind the men.

  “It was you, Finn, wasn’t it?” somebody yells behind me.

  I realize it’s Jackie, striding from the house with her hands bunched into fists. She stops beside me when I give her a look, silently telling her not to go any further.

  “You left the door open so Lava could get out. You threw a brick through my window. You messed with Markus’s car and you wrote Millie’s name in glass outside the diner. I can’t believe you’d do this. I thought we had something … I wish you were dead.”

  I let out an icy sigh.

  So Finn must’ve been one of Jackie’s dates. That’s how he got his hands on her. He tricked her. The evil bastard.

  Sirens lace the air, growing louder, closer, and that’s a damn good thing. My arm injury might not be serious, but it’s starting to ache and twinge again. All that fighting didn’t help.

  But even with the injury, I’d stand here for a hundred years – a thousand – if that’s what it took.

  For Millie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Millie

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell Jackie, sitting just outside the hospital, Lava at her feet as though daring anybody else to try and touch her.

  The sky is still clear, the sun a shiny penny in the sky, and yet it seems off. I feel as though clouds should have moved across the sky and blotted the sun, darkened it like the day’s events. Once the police showed up, everything moved hyper-fast, Finn and his goons being carted away as Markus was brought to the hospital.

  We’ve all been questioned, given our statements. They said they might want to talk to us later, but for now, we’re free to just process it all.

  Now we sit outside – Lava isn’t allowed inside – waiting to hear that I’m allowed to go in and be with Markus.

  “I’ve told you about a billion times, all right?” Jackie says. “You don’t need to be sorry, Millie. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was him, the freaking psycho. I just can’t believe that I fell for his nice guy act for so long, you know? I feel so silly.”

  I place my hand on her shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. Lava watches us with an unsure smile on his face, waiting for Jackie’s dark mood to lift.

  “He’s an expert manipulator,” I say. “He’s been doing this for a long time. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  We stay like that for a long time, clutching onto each other. Lava finally jumps up into Jackie’s lap, no idea how big he is, that his puppy days are long behind him. Jackie grins and smooths her hands through his golden fur.

  “Thanks,” she whispers. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “Me too.”

  I try not to think about what Markus told me about my parents as we sit here, the pain of it moving jaggedly through me, hurting every part of me. But then I think about Markus instead, the furry he flew into as he took on all of those men, bravely spinning between them like a protective predator.

  Even if my dad was a lunatic and even if my parents are dead, I have Markus.

  I let my hand fall onto my belly, wondering if I can feel any warmth there already or if I’m just imagining it. It’s like there’s something different about me, a fluttering inside of me, almost too subtle for me to sense.

  My womb whispers, telling me to accept it, it’s happening.

  I’m so freaking ready.

  “Millie Green?” a nurse says, standing at the electric doors to the hospital.

  “Yes?”

  “You can go in now if you like.”

  “Thank you.”

  I turn to Jackie. “Are you going to be okay?”

  An impish gleam comes into her eyes. “Actually,” she says, “I was wondering if you could stay with me. I’m really upset. In fact, I’d feel a lot better if you told Markus he’s getting in the way of our friendship and…”

  She bursts out into laughter, the sound doing so freaking much to assuage my fears that this craziness has changed her in some unalterable way.

  “Okay, I can’t even keep a straight face,” she giggles. “Look, what happened was horrible. It was evil. I want to scream just thinking about it. But I’ve got Lava and there’s no freaking way I’m going to stop you from reuniting with your man.”

  I smile, reaching onto her lap to tickle Lava under the chin. “Aren’t you just the most loyal doggie ever, huh?”

  He beams under the praise, perking up and wagging his tail.

  “Are you going to wait here or go home?” I ask.<
br />
  “I think I’ll take Lava for a walk.”

  “Really? After what just happened?”

  She shrugs, and then her features harden. “I don’t want to live in fear for even one minute just because some absolute fucking loser decided to use me as a pawn in his sick game,” she says fiercely. “I’m going to walk Lava around town and hold my head up high.”

  “Okay, but … but stay in town, please? Just for me?”

  She stands and takes Lava’s leash from her pocket, attaching it even though it looks like he’s not going to venture far from her anytime soon.

  “Okay,” she says. “But only for you.”

  I lean over and we hug shortly, squeezing her to feel her warmth, to give her a piece of my warmth and let her know that it’s all going to be okay. I hold on for a moment longer than I normally would and then whisper, “Jackie, thank you so much for not hating me for what happened. And thank you for letting me stay with you. You’re the best friend a person could ask for. Really.”

  “And you’re the best person I know,” Jackie murmurs. “Now go and see your man before you make me cry.”

  I laugh, blinking back tears of my own.

  Then I head into the hospital, the automatic doors sliding aside for me. Giddiness begins to rise in me as I head down the hallway and then explodes in my chest when I see Markus walking toward me, his arm in a sling, and his characteristic smirk on his face, but with something lighter behind it when he spots me, his eyes shining.

  “Millie,” he growls, looping me into a one-armed hug and squeezing me close.

  “Your arm,” I gasp. “Is it okay?”

  He shrugs, rolling his eyes a little. “Goddamn fuss over nothing,” he growls. “The bullet barely grazed me. I can move it fine, but apparently I should keep it in the sling for at least a week.”

  I place my hand on his chest, feeling the blistering heat of him through the fabric of his shirt, his muscles, his essence.

  “Then you’re going to be in that sling for a week, mister,” I tell him.

  “Okay, boss,” he chuckles. He places his hand atop mine, pressing it closer to his chest. “Walk with me, Millie?”

  “Walk—where?”

  Light dances in his eyes, his smirk twitching a moment. “Just walk with me, okay?”