Breathless (19 page)

“It hurts.” Warren placed the knife on the coffee table.

“We should put some ice on it.” She pushed herself from the chair, praying her shaking legs could carry her. As she neared the freezer, Lydia spotted a broiler fork next to a dish towel on top of the counter. Feeling his gaze upon her, she pulled the ice tray out and released its contents into the sink. She angled her body just right so Warren couldn't see her hide the fork under the towel. She startled at him stroking her back. He moved closer and took in a whiff of her hair.

“I wish it didn't have to be like this. But, we'll enjoy each other once before it's over.” While he stood with a hand on her back, the other with the missing tip rested on the counter top.

She yanked the fork out and jabbed the tines into his sore hand. He shrieked out in pain as she spun in the opposite direction. Warren fell to the floor. It gave Lydia a chance to dart out the door. After bounding from the steps, she raced toward the trees. Away from where she left Matthew to keep him from harm's way.

Her heart beat so loud she could hear nothing else. Not her panting. Not her feet pounding against the ground. Not even Warren as he approached. She slid on the snow covered grass as Warren tackled her. She screamed. Please let someone hear her. His hands wrenched her head back. Another scream escaped from her.

“You will never do that again.” He then slammed her face into the snowy dirt.

Lydia's stomach swayed as he lifted her.

He spun her to face him. His eyes wide with rage. “Do you think your preacher will want you after you've been with me?” Warren spoke through clenched teeth.

Lydia slammed her forehead against his nose. He released his hold. She landed on the ground. Momentarily dazed by the blow she'd dealt. Warren turned back to her, and she raised her leg. With all her might she kicked Warren in his kneecap. He fell to his side. She struggled to stand on the slippery ground. Warren grabbed hold of her ankle and pulled her back to him. His knee landed on her back and the air flew out of her. He flipped her over and backhanded her several times. Tears rolled from the sting of the slaps.

“You will never leave me. Never!” His volume raised two octaves making him sound like a frantic, hysterical female.

He hauled her from the ground and shoved her toward the lodge. As he propelled her forward, she darted in different directions. Any chance at freedom. Each time he flung her back. The fight had almost left her. He dragged her into the small cabin back to the bedroom with the false images scattered on the floor. He gathered her hair in his hands and crashed her face into the wall. Blood slid down her throat.

 

****

 

Matthew smelt gardenias in Lydia's coat. He couldn't tell what warmed him more, the wool coat or the aroma.
Yeah, she was worth fighting for.

He rose on his good arm and knees. It took work, but he was able to crawl to a nearby tree where he sat up. It took all his focus to unbutton his shirt. The blood seemed to have slowed. He leaned forward and reached over his shoulder. Blood covered his fingertips. Pain shot through his body. The shot penetrated his upper chest and went clean through.

“God, I'm going to need a lot of your help right now,” he said to the clear sky above. It was dusk and would get dark soon. And colder. He needed to get inside.

With much effort and discomfort, he removed his jacket and shirt. He tied the shirt and placed it over his head. His teeth gritted as he lifted the arm into the makeshift sling. He then replaced his jacket. Now all he had to do was wait for Lydia. A smile crawled over his face. Wouldn't she be surprised to see him awake and alive? He pushed his way up the bark of the tree until he stood. His hands shook and cold rushed through him with only a bare skin under the jacket.

He sucked in a deep breath. Thank goodness the snow had let up. And thank God Lydia had left her coat.

Something in his side pocket moved. He removed the vibrating phone as he took a step to the next tree. His breath came out in gusts with every move.

“Hello.” He cleared his throat. “Hello.”

A scream in the distance diverted his attention. Lydia!

“Matthew? Where are you?” Riley's voice came in strong but Matthew couldn't answer.

Another scream. He had to get to Lydia. He pushed through a large group of trees. Bushes smacked at him, but he didn't feel it. His total focus was on getting to Lydia.

“Please God. She is worth fighting for.” He continually whispered the words as he made his way forward. His legs felt as if walking through quicksand.

Matthew almost yelled out when he saw Lydia until he realized a man was shoving her back toward the cabin.

“Matthew!” The voice beckoned again over the line. He took a deep breath and raised it to his ear. “We're going to track you by way of your phone. Make sure you leave it on.”

“No need.” Matthew stopped to catch his breath. “I'm near one of the cabins at the ski lodge. I've been shot. It's Warren.”

“Warren's missing from the hospital. And his guard is dead along with the deputy guarding Lydia. Green found him in the woods. He'd been stabbed.”

“He's the one. Warren. Warren's the one responsible for it all.” Matthew fell against a tree for support. His legs wobbled. It took all his strength to talk.

“That makes sense. On his work computer we found pictures of Lydia where Warren superimposed his face over other people.” Riley let out a heavy breath. “Where's Lydia?”

“He's got her. Warren's got Lydia.”

 

 

 

 

 

20

 

Lydia's head and face hurt, but she couldn't dwell on the pain. Matthew had to be cold. She had to get out of here and get to that phone in the other building. She searched the room for a weapon. Tearing through the closet, she found more blankets. Nothing in the dresser drawers. She rushed to the window. It was nailed shut.

She would not let Warren win. She didn't want to hurt him, but he was no longer the friend she had grown to care for.

When she opened the nightstand, stationery and a pen beckoned to her. She prayed that someone found Matthew before it was too late for him. Her hands trembled as she wrote the quick note, but she hoped she made herself clear. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. She tossed the notebook into the safety of its drawer. Please God, let the message make its way to Matthew. Please let him be all right. She scooted to the corner created by the bed and nightstand.

“How can you say you care for me and hurt me like you have?” Lydia said as Warren entered.

“Why couldn't you love me?” Warren's stone-cold expression stared back at her. “Why couldn't you just try to love me?”

“I told you I did. I'm sorry it can't be how you like.”

“That's not enough.”

“God wouldn't want you to do this. If we pray, we can find an answer before it's too late.”

“God. Yeah. I prayed over and over for Him to let you notice me. You can't imagine how many times I asked Him to let me have you. Some God.”

“How can you say that?” She climbed onto her feet. “You taught Sunday school. You sat in church every week singing praise and worship. You're a godly man. I know you are.”

“I believed for you. You would only marry a Christian man, so that's what I became.”

“God doesn't always answer our prayers how we hope. Sometimes it isn't His will.”

“I'm really not in the mood for a sermon.”

Warren jerked her up by the shirt and dragged her to the fireplace. The living room lay in ruins. Torn pictures strewn across the floor and shattered glass throughout. More photographs where he had superimposed himself over others now destroyed. Lydia's throat constricted when she saw her face melting in the flames of the fireplace.

 

****

 

Lydia's scream still echoed in his ears. Matthew couldn't chance waiting on Riley. He had to get in that building. He slid around a pine tree, glancing in every direction. His palms hurt from having to use the limbs to maneuver. Matthew had no choice but to move slow. Sheer determination gave him the momentum to persevere.

No one about, he crept across a twenty-foot opening. Resting his shoulder against the wood frame of the building, he sucked in a deep breath. Man, his shoulder hurt.
Don't think of the pain. Think of Lydia. She's worth fighting for. She's worth fighting for
. The words repeated in his head.

He edged up to the first window And peered through. Lydia sat in an oversized chair. Fear glossed her eyes. A bruise covered her left jaw, and her hair was no longer in a tight, neat ponytail.

Warren's head turned as if glancing around while he paced. His hand rose to his mouth every few seconds. He spoke but Matthew couldn't make out the words.

Matthew's heart stopped when Lydia's eyes met his. She glanced at Warren, then back at Matthew. Her eyes deliberately moved to a nearby coffee table. Matthew followed her line of vision. A heavy gauge utility hunting knife, called a Skinner. He also knew Warren had a gun.

Matthew glanced around. Where was the car? If nothing else, a tire iron might be useful.

Matthew slid down the side of the house to his knees. He crouched under the window and moved toward the rear of the cabin. A black sedan was parked in back. He continued in a crawl until he got to the vehicle. He gave God a quick thanks for no alarm and an unlocked door. Matthew dug around under the driver's side seat. He felt a familiar grip as he pulled out the Beretta Tomcat handgun. Not good for a long distance, but up close, it'd work in a pinch. And you don't have to get as close as with a knife.

 

****

 

Lydia continually glanced at the window for any sign of Matthew. Her heart still lay in her throat from when she first saw him. It took all her power not to call out his name. Did she tell him about the phone in the main house?

She rose. If Matthew were anywhere near, she had to keep Warren distracted. “It's a good thing Justin died of cancer, or I would think you were to blame for that too.”

“I knew you loved him, and I could tell how much he loved you. As long as you were happy, that was fine. I decided to love you from a distance.”

“But now that's changed?”

Warren fluctuated between reality and fantasy. One minute he thought he was the man she married. The next he realized it was Justin she had been married to. How was she going to get through to someone this unstable?

“When Justin died, you grew to rely on me. That's when I realized we were meant to be together. But then that preacher had to show up.”

“I can't help my feelings. Anymore than you can. If you had told me sooner, there might have been a chance. We might have been able to see if something might have ignited. But now it's too late.” Lydia turned to face Warren. “I'm sorry Warren. Hurting me or anyone else isn't going to change the way I feel.”

She knew she was rambling, not even sure what she said made sense. “You just have to face facts and accept responsibility. And the phone calls started before Matthew came to town, so don't try to blame this on him. This is your fault. So I suggest we quit all this, and you take me home.”

“I don't think so. None of it matters anymore.” He walked over to the coffee table and stared down at the knife. “We'll have one last night, then it'll be all over. I need to have you, just once.”

“Even if it's against my will?” Lydia's pulse raced.

“You can either make it easy on yourself or hard. We both know I'm stronger, and I'll win.”

“Warren, it's all over.” Matthew's hands shook as he pointed the gun at Warren.

Matthew moved to the opening of the hallway. Lydia's heart pounded in her chest. He was pale, and sweat rolled down his face. She wanted to run to him, but she would have to pass Warren to do it. He was within feet of Matthew.

“Get away from the knife,” Matthew ordered.

“Or what? You'll shoot me.” Warren took a step toward Matthew. “She's just beginning to forgive you for Charlie. I'm not sure if she can forgive you for me.”

“At least she'll be safe.” Matthew motioned with the weapon for Warren to move aside.

“No. I can't imagine you'll shoot another unarmed man.” Warren smirked. “From what I read in the reports, killing Charlie took a real toll on you mentally.” He advanced another step toward Matthew. “Have you even held a gun in your hands since that day?”

Anger rose in Lydia. How dare he taunt Matthew like this over something that was an accident? Of course it bothered Matthew. He was a good man.

Warren raised his leg and kicked the gun from Matthew's hand. Warren then shoved him to the ground. The wince from pain showed all over Matthew's face. Lydia rushed at Warren, sending them both to the ground. She pounded on him with her fists. He shoved her sideways and rolled over on top of her.

“Now that your boyfriend's here, I say we let him in on some of the fun.” Warren ground his lips into hers. He jerked back with a jolt from her bite, bringing his hand to his mouth.

“Get off me, now,” Lydia yelled.

Warren slapped her across her face then rose, taking her with him. He held her by her hair and shoved her toward the other side of the room, near the fireplace. She landed hard on the floor.

Using one arm, Matthew scooted across the floor on his belly, his eyes on the gun. Warren landed hard with his knee on Matthew's right arm. A yell escaped Matthew's throat. He grabbed his injured arm and rolled onto his back.

Lydia had to find some way to stop this.

Warren stared down over Matthew. “I was going to let you watch me take her, but I think it's just better if she watches you die first.”

With Warren's focus on Matthew, Lydia scooted toward the gun.
God, please let this be a bad dream. Either Matthew and I die or Warren dies. That's not much of an option
.

Warren walked to the coffee table and picked up the knife. Lydia paused when he looked her way.

“I say we end him and get on with us.”

Warren carried a smirk as he continued to glare down on Matthew. He didn't look back as her fingers curled around the cool metal of the gun.

Warren took another step toward Matthew. The knife reflected in the window. Matthew grabbed a pillow from a nearby chair. Each time Warren sliced at him, stuffing flew. Anger creased Warren's face and his mouth stood in a sneer as he swiped the knife back and forth.

“I'm done playing with you.” He jerked the pillow from Matthew's grip and took a swipe. As Matthew raised his hand to block it, the knife sliced into his palm. Lydia gasped seeing the blood. She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.