Sarah limped past the sink and sat down on the toilet. She popped the top to the ibuprofen and downed the remaining two pills. She placed her foot on the edge of the white-plastic tub and applied another generous coat of the cream to her ankle.

  The swelling looked better than the night before. It didn’t hurt as much since applying the cream and taking the pills. Plus, taking her weight off of it seemed to help.

  The silence of the bathroom mixed with the dimness and flickering candlelight lured Sarah into a lull. She leaned back against the tank of the toilet and gathered herself.

  A loud scream sounded from outside of the bathroom, followed by raised voices.

  Sarah removed her foot from the edge of the tub. Multiple footfalls charged her way.

  “Shut up,” William said, sounding more beast than man. “You and me are going to hash this out right now.”

  Tiffany whimpered and pleaded, but William’s voice trounced her words.

  A door slammed.

  Sarah flinched, then stood from the toilet. She feared what might come next.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  RUSSELL

  Cathy sighed, then rubbed her hand up and down her face. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s the culprit, but the bottom of the radiator is wet with fluid, so there must be a leak somewhere,” Russell answered. “I don’t know how bad it is, but we need some coolant. Everything else looked fine from what I could tell, but I’m no mechanic.”

  Cathy sat up, then slumped over. She yawned, then dug her knuckles into each socket. The skin under her eyes sagged.

  “Do we have any water anywhere we could add to the radiator?” she asked through another yawn. “It’s not ideal, but could buy us some time until we find a store that has some coolant.”

  Russell shook his head. “Not that I’ve seen. The hand pump out back isn’t working, and the only water we had we drank or used to clean your leg.”

  Max sat on his haunches at her side. He leaned in close and licked the side of her face.

  Cathy offered the loving canine a warm smile, then scratched under his chin. “Well, we can assume it’s been leaking late yesterday through the night, so driving it right now might not be the best thing. Without enough coolant in the system, it could mess the engine up.”

  Russell nodded in agreement. “That is what I thought as well.”

  Cathy shifted her weight, then moved her injured leg. Her lips pursed, and her hand pressed to the top of the entry. “Hand me whatever gauze and bandages we have left.”

  “There isn’t much. We’ll need to get more soon, so we can keep that from getting infected.” Russell grabbed the gauze and bandages and handed them to Cathy.

  Cathy took the supplies and sat them in her lap. “Let me get this dressed, then we’ll head out to see if we can find a drug store. There should be one a few miles back the way we came. I can’t remember the town, though.”

  Russell held up his hand, then pointed at her leg. “That wound looks a lot worse than what we thought, or what I thought since you didn’t tell me how bad it ended up being. Can you stand and put weight on it?”

  “I can do whatever is needed,” Cathy shot back, staring at Russell. She dressed her leg the best she could, then tried to stand.

  Russell held his hands out, ready to help her if needed.

  Cathy grimaced, then sat back down.

  “We need to get you some pain pills at the very least,” Russell said.

  “Damn it.” Cathy balled her hands into fists, trying to maintain her composure. She gripped her leg while breathing heavily. “This is total crap and wasting more time than helping. You’ll need to head back to that town. Take Max with you.”

  “Whoa.” Russell raised his hands in protest. “And leave you here alone? I’m not so sure that’s a good idea with those hillbillies out there.”

  Cathy shrugged. “I never said it’s ideal, but we don’t have much of a choice right now. For all intents and purposes, this place is home until we can get that Bronco working. I’m pretty much useless at the moment and can’t travel on foot without wasting even more time. It’s the only move we have to make. Besides, you’ll be able to travel faster on your own without having to help me.”

  Russell paced about the living room, unhappy with the lack of options before them. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone, but couldn’t formulate a better plan of action.

  “It is what it is, Cage. No use in wasting time on trying to plot out another course that isn’t going to work,” Cathy said. “This place seems to be secluded enough that I should be fine for a bit. Don’t worry. My leg might be hurt, but that doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself.”

  “Yeah, still, I don’t like the thought of leaving you here like this.” Russell placed his hands on his hips, then sighed.

  “You don’t have to like it.” Cathy grabbed the go bag, dumped the remaining supplies to the floor next to her, then tossed it at Russell’s feet. “Take that so you can load it up with any supplies you find.”

  Russell bent over and grabbed the straps. “So medical supplies and pain pills, then food and water if there’s space. Anything else?”

  Cathy dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “That should about do it, I think.”

  “At least take my piece since you want me to take Max. Only way I’m going to leave you here alone.” Russell yanked the 9mm from his waistband and presented it to her.

  “All right.” Cathy took the 9mm and placed it on the floor next to her. “I’d stick to the back road we came in on. Should reduce the chance of you being spotted.”

  “You’re sure about this?” Russell asked one last time. “I had to help Deputy Johnson through the woods when he got shot. It worked out all right.”

  Cathy nodded. “I’m sure. Besides, you have to come back here because of the Bronco, so like I said, it would be a wasted trip for me. This will give my leg a chance to rest up and heal without putting any undue pressure on it.”

  Russell slipped the go bag over his shoulders and tightened the straps.

  Max sat at Cathy’s side, looking at her. He leaned forward and sniffed, then flicked his tongue at her face. A soft groan escaped his maw as she turned his way. His tail wagged in excitement.

  “You watch over Mr. Cage here, and make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble, okay?” Cathy scraped at the side of his head, then the top. Max licked her face more and stood up. “That’s my big boy.” She gave him a kiss on the side of his head, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Is there anything I can do or get you before we head out?” Russell asked.

  “Just get what we need and get your butt back here, so we can leave,” Cathy answered, smirking through the discomfort.

  “You won’t have to worry about that.” Russell patted his palm against the side of his thigh. “Come on, big man.”

  Max’s tongue lashed Cathy one last time, then he trotted over to Russell.

  “We’ll be back as fast as we can,” Russell said.

  “You better, Cage.”

  Max trotted off through the foyer with Russell flanking him. They moved down the hallway, then through the kitchen.

  Russell opened the back door, allowing Max out onto the porch. He glanced over his shoulder at the front of the house, worried about them splitting up.

  Max groaned, then barked from the screen door.

  “Yeah, I’m coming.” Russell shook the unsettling feeling that weighed on his conscience and walked out onto the porch. “You know your mom is about as hardheaded of a person as I’ve ever met.”

  Russell closed the door, then checked to make sure it latched into place. It rattled inside the jamb some, but didn’t open.

  Max pawed at the screen door while looking at Russell.

  “Go on. It isn’t locked.”

  The German shepherd pressed his paw against the screen door. It swung open some. He nudged the door with his head, then darted outside.

  Russell followed Max out to the backyard. He stopped off at the Bronco, shutting the hood and closing any open doors. His hands patted the front pockets of his jeans, checking for the keys. He felt the rigid edges of the keys stuffed in one pocket and the bottle of liquor in the other.

  Max stood in the grass-covered drive past the corner of the ramshackle home, waiting for him to catch up.

  “I’m coming.” Russell stuffed his hand into the pocket of his jeans the bottle rested in and pulled it out. A quick sip to dull the stress and take the edge off.

  He twisted the cap off, then took a gulp of the brown-tinted spirit. Another followed right after.

  There. That should be good.

  Russell wiped away the whiskey from his lips with the back of his hand, then secured the bottle in the front pocket of his jeans.

  Max sniffed through the weeds, waiting on Russell to catch up. He sat on his haunches and clawed at his dark-brown coat.

  “Waiting on you, man,” Russell said, his arms stretched out to his sides.

  Max finished tending to the critter biting him, then stood up. He galloped past Russell and took the lead.

  They walked the remainder of the drive to the rocky road, then continued on in the direction they came from. Cathy said the last decent-sized town they passed had been a few miles back.

  Russell didn’t recall seeing any such town that close, but the lack of sleep and rest had his brain fried. Either way, he figured if they moved at a steady pace, they should be able to walk three or so miles an hour.

  A lot hinged on them succeeding, and Russell had no plans of failing.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SARAH

  The beating of her heart hammered against her chest. Sarah feared for Tiffany’s safety and that of her daughter. She limped toward the bathroom door, slow and cautious. The screaming from the other room grew louder, more violent as the seconds ticked by. Sarah listened through the closed door, trying to figure out what went wrong.

  William’s voice boomed like angry thunder.

  Tiffany yelled, pleading for him to calm down, and get out of her apartment.

  The demand only fueled his anger and made his voice rise an octave higher. “Don’t you tell me what to do. It’s you that has broken this family apart.”

  William had lost control, teetering on the brink of punishing Tiffany and anyone else he laid eyes on.

  Sarah needed to defend herself and her new found friends from the tyrant who had stormed into the apartment.

  The knife she took from the man in the alley would have to do since she no longer had her Glock 43 with her.

  Crap.

  Sarah patted down the pockets of her trousers for the blade, but came up short. It had to be in the living room somewhere.

  A loud crashing noise echoed through the apartment. Painful whelps tainted the air.

  Sarah took a deep breath, then grabbed the doorknob. She turned it, then pulled the door toward her.

  The bickering and fighting from Tiffany’s room escalated. The murk of the hallway made it difficult to see.

  “Don’t touch me again, you bastard,” Tiffany screamed, standing her ground against the overbearing and abusive man. “I’ve had all I can stand of this. No more. Do you hear me?”

  The door shuddered as if something slammed into it.

  Sarah moved out into the hallway, limping toward the living room. The strife from Tiffany’s room continued, then stopped.

  A horrible, sickening feeling clawed at Sarah’s gut. She skirted past the couch to the coffee table.

  “Hannah, sweetie. Where are you?” Sarah asked, whispering in the silence.

  The young girl had vanished, making Sarah even more fearful that William had done something to her in his fit of rage.

  The dull, nagging pain in her ankle throbbed. She scoured the floor near the couch and under the coffee table, but couldn’t locate the blade.

  A rush of adrenaline spiked through her veins, making her hands tremble and her mind race.

  Come on.

  Sarah caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. She turned with her hands balled into fists, ready to fight.

  Hannah stood before her, clutching her bear tight in one hand and the blade in the other. Tears streamed down her face, vanishing beyond the matted fur of the bear’s head.

  “Oh, thank God,” Sarah said, relieved to see her unharmed. “Come here, sweetie. Let me see that knife.”

  “Daddy is upset with mommy. He gets angry a lot.” Hannah kept hold of the knife, refusing to hand it over.

  Sarah kept her movements slow. “Can I see the knife? I’m going to go help your mom out.”

  Hannah stared at the blade, then back up to Sarah. “Here. You can have it.”

  “Thank you. Do you have a favorite hiding place you can go to?” Sarah asked, taking the knife from her hand. The fearful girl nodded. “Good. Go hide and don’t make a single sound, okay? We’ll come find you.”

  Hannah turned and ran for the kitchen. The darkness swallowed her tiny frame.

  Sarah held the blade, then peered in the direction of Tiffany’s room.

  The discord between the dysfunctional couple remained silent. No pleas for mercy or angered shouting loomed from the hall.

  The unnerving feeling that Tiffany met a brutal demise nibbled at the back of Sarah’s head. Her fingers gripped the handle of the knife a hair tighter. She swallowed the lump of uncertainty clinging to the back of her throat.

  The floor creaked under her weight.

  Sarah squinted, trying to pierce the dimness of the narrow hallway for any figures lurking in the shadows. Each step she took, her heart pounded harder, faster.

  The door rattled, then swung open.

  Sarah froze.

  A light flickered from Tiffany’s bedroom.

  William emerged from the room looking at his forearm and mumbling under his breath. “Damn bitch.”

  “Where’s Tiffany?” Sarah blocked his path, holding the knife toward William. “What did you do to her, you piece of crap?”

  He stopped, then flitted his angered gaze at Sarah. “Really? I suggest you lower that blade, and get out of my way before I plant another shiner to go along with the bruises you already have.”

  Sarah held her ground. Her hand trembled, but she wasn’t going to back down. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to leave this apartment right now because if you don’t, I will kill you. Make no mistake about that.”

  William snickered, then shook his head. “You stupid women are all the same. Not listening and causing problems when there are none. That’s ok. I don’t mind putting you in your place.”

  “I suggest you get–”

  William stormed up the hall, taking two giant steps toward Sarah.

  Sarah slashed with the blade, catching his upper bicep. The serrated edge cut through his sleeve with ease.

  He paused, then glanced over the wound in the dark. The vague outline of his face revealed gnashed teeth and a furrowed brow.

  Sarah attacked again, trying to find any part of his body with the blade. She thrusted the knife at his mid-section, sending him back into the darkness.

  William grabbed her arm and wrenched her close. His fingers wrapped around her meager limb and squeezed. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “I doubt it,” Sarah shot back, tugging her arm. She threw a right cross that landed across his square chin. He shook his head from the glancing blow, but recovered quickly.

  He punched Sarah in the gut, ripping the air from her lungs. She doubled over, gasping for air.

  William knocked the blade from her hand, then grabbed a handful of her top. “Time for your punishment.” He slammed Sarah’s body into the walls in the hallway, then shoved her back into the living room. The sore ankle gave, sending her to the floor.

  Sarah slid across the wood planks–her midsection on fire. She struggled to breathe as the heavy footfalls of her aggressor surged toward her.

  “Oh, you’re not going anywhere.” William bent over and reached for any part of Sarah he could snag.

  He grabbed her arm, then flipped her over. His legs stood apart–ten and two. Sarah kicked his low hanging fruit.

  “Ahhh.” William cupped his genitals and howled. He struggled to catch his breath as he stumbled about.

  The knife!

  Sarah flipped over onto her stomach and searched the floor for her blade.

  Where did it go?

  William huffed, then exhaled a deep breath from his mouth. “You’re so going to pay for that.”

  The blade had all but vanished within the apartment. Sarah couldn’t locate it in the dull lighting. She crawled away from the irate man, trying to put as much distance between them as she could.

  William trudged after her, removing his hands from his aching genitals.

  Sarah got to her knees, then grabbed the edge of the bar top. She pulled herself up, favoring her ankle as William grabbed a handful of hair.

  He jerked.

  Her head snapped back.

  She cried out. “Get your damn hands off me, you bastard.” An empty glass vase rested on the bar, mere inches from Sarah’s reach.

  William yanked harder.

  The pressure intensified, growing with each violent tug. The discomfort in Sarah’s ankle paled to that of her hair being ripped from her skull.

  She stretched her arm, reaching for the vase as she drifted backward. The tips of her fingers grabbed the top of the lightweight flower holder.

  William palmed her shoulder, then spun her around.

  Sarah turned on her heels and slammed the glass vase into the side of his head.

  It shattered.

  Glass rained down.

  His taut hold of her hair loosened, then released all together. William deflated against the wall, then crumbled to his knees. He swayed to and fro before falling back on the wood planks.

  Sarah panted, her chest heaving with a surge of energy that pumped through her system. She towered over the sorry excuse for a man, pissed at his deplorable actions.

 

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