Anything He Wants: The Betrayal(12)
“I’m coming, baby.” Lucas made a quick in-out movement with his head, peeking very briefly from cover, and an instant later a bullet tore a hole into the wall behind him. He cursed, then cast about and grabbed a pillow nearby. “This would really be easier without the cuffs, brother,” he called out.
Jeremiah dug around in his pockets and tossed a small keychain across the room to land behind the coffee table. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Probably getting myself killed,” replied Lucas, quickly unlocking his cuffs. He paused for a deep breath, and looked over at Jeremiah. “Wish me luck,” he added, then tossed the pillow sideways into the open area beside him. It exploded, sending bits of stuffing flying everywhere, but Lucas was already moving, grabbing Anya and pulling her toward his hiding spot. Another pop through the window and Lucas hissed, but he was back behind his barrier and managed to pull Anya with him behind the long table. Two bullets in rapid succession struck the wood table Lucas hid behind with loud thocks, but neither appeared to make it through.
Careful to stay hidden, Lucas moved to inspect the wound on Anya’s stomach. From the bleak look on his face, I could tell it was bad. Anya sobbed softly, one hand fluttering over her belly while her other hand held tight to Lucas’s arm. Out in the entryway, Georgia’s screaming reached truly operatic levels. “Mother, be quiet!” Jeremiah shouted, and instantly the screaming stopped. I wondered if it was fear for her life or that of her children that had the woman in hysterics, but right then wasn’t the time to consider that.
“Stay with me, Anya,” Lucas murmured, carefully removing his shirts and pressing it over the wound.
“I’m sorry,” Anya whispered, bloody hand fluttering weakly through the air. Tears tracked down the side of her face into her hair, and the bleakness in her eyes was heartbreaking. “I should have known, I never wanted…”
“Shh, don’t talk. You’re going to be fine.”
The lie was obvious; even from this distance I could see the amount of blood pouring from the wound and the increasing pallor in the Russian woman’s face. “I never should have listened to him, I only wanted you to be happy…”
“You’re going to be fine,” Lucas grit out, but the reality of the situation was increasingly apparent in his desperate gaze. His hands left the blood-soaked shirt against her belly to cup her face. “Who told you to do this? I need a name, Anya, stay with me here.”
She didn’t answer him as her breathing grew labored. Her body grew slack, her free hand falling to her chest. “I gave you everything,” she whispered, exhalations coming in uneven gasps. “Don’t forget me.”
“Anya,” Lucas said, smoothing back her hair, “stay with me. Hey, you never took me to that little town you were from. What was its name again?” Anya, however, didn’t seem to hear his question, her pallid face growing slack. “Everything,” she repeated, eyes staring off into nothing. Her hand slipped off the Orthodox cross below her neck, and she drew in a rattling breath. “I sold my soul…”
Lucas’s face contorted. “Anya, stay with me. Anya…”
But she was gone.
Lucas’s breath came out in a ragged hiccup, then he smacked the tile floor with a bloody fist and let out a string of curses. A bullet smacked into the wood behind him but he didn’t flinch. He sounded angry, but the masks were gone and I saw the profound defeat in his scarred features.
In death, Anya’s pallid body looked so small and young. I’d never wanted to see the woman dead, even when I had seen her at her worst. Learning about the young girl she’d once been, then seeing her crying on the ground, had erased my residual bad feelings toward the woman. Her final words had been a sucker punch to the gut, and I could only imagine it was worse for Lucas. Maybe he deserved it. The thought was unkind but I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d asked the Russian girl to do on his behalf, manipulating her obvious feelings for him no matter whether they were reciprocated. Does love mean so little to this family?
The lights in the kitchen flickered on as the electricity powered back up, but the glass lining the back of the house remained clear. “Get that safety glass on,” Jeremiah barked, holding me tightly against him. A second later someone flipped the switch and the glass fogged over again, the ocean disappearing from sight. The sniper, however, wasn’t finished; bullets continued to pop through the fogged glass, mostly centered around Lucas’s and Anya’s location.