Lace & Lead (novella) (15 page)

She could only watch in horror, finally understanding why her father had been so desperate to hand her over. Why Stone was here right now.

“He was your son?”

“Yes. And, as a little birdie told me once I finished with her,
you
played a part in his death.” He took a step toward her, eyes flashing with fiendish delight. “I can’t wait to offer Gregson’s virgin daughter up to my customers. What a prize...”

She waited until he was closer and used her captors to hold her in place as she kicked out, catching his knee with her foot. Stone stumbled just a bit and she wrenched in the men’s grasps to break free. But they recovered too quickly and instead she fell hard on her hip, her legs splayed awkwardly beneath her.

“You have fight,” Stone purred. “Good. I’ll make sure the right customer is able to knock that out of you.”

A sharp cry of pain to her left surprised both her and Stone. Peirce’s knife was sticking out of one man’s chest and his arm was tight around the other man’s throat as he scrabbled against the ground. A swift twist, sharp crack and the merc’s limp body fell to the side.

Her captors released her arms and rushed Peirce. She turned to run, but Stone was already there. His fist caught her cheekbone and she hit the ground, pain radiating through her face.

“Stay,” Stone hissed at her. His boot caught her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs and he moved toward Peirce.

His hands moved on his cane and suddenly the wood was sliding away, a thin blade in its place. Busy with the other two men, Peirce had no idea what was coming. And she couldn’t draw enough breath to warn him.

Things had been going well to that point. The first two guards were down. The third was mumbling incoherently on the ground, nose broken, testicles crushed and right arm with a spiral fracture from the way he’d torqued on it. The fourth was going down slower…

Or maybe I’m just moving slower
, Peirce mused.

Two kidney punches got the man off his back. He reached for his knife, handle sticking up from Merc #1’s chest. His fingers closed around it—

And he was ripped back by Merc #4.

Missed it by that much.

Merc #4 was doing an admirable job of squeezing the life from him. In fact, if the cute black spots on the edges of his vision were any indication, Peirce had about ten seconds to break the bastard’s hold.

He slammed an elbow back.
Dammit, a little too high. Just the ribs on that one.

Eight...seven...

Another elbow, this time lower. It sunk into the soft flesh of the side and the man grunted.

Five...four...

Peirce jabbed back as hard as he could. This time, the grip loosened. A slight drop and twist, a quick throw, and the man was stretched out on the road, unconscious.

Wow, the world’s spinning
.

He staggered to his feet, intent on reaching Emma, chasing her down if Stone had taken her—

He turned right into Stone himself, who had a surprisingly triumphant expression on his face.

He heard Emma’s choked sob and saw Stone look down.

He realised that the bastard had sunk his cane-sword partway into his side, right in the middle of all those lovely bite marks.

Fuck.

There were two options: fight with a freaking sword tip tickling his vitals, or play dead.

He let his knees go until they hit the road, hated pretending even for a moment.

Stone was a vindictive prick, just as he’d imagined. He made sure to turn the blade as Peirce fell. Peirce cried out like a good little actor should.

And, like he’d hoped, Stone pulled out the blade and moved back toward Emma.

Emma
.

Tears were streaming down her face and he could see the reddened swelling on her cheek from here.
I’m going to kill the bastard.

The knife was still there, just off to his right.

Stone was busy monologuing to Emma. Something about the sword being a gentleman’s weapon. Peirce held in his snort. He withdrew the knife slowly, refusing to give away his advantage before he had to.

“But, my dear, the problem with a man like Taggart is that he doesn’t know when it’s his time to die.”

Well, that got his attention.

Stone was turning back, so Peirce dropped his hand to his side, concealing the knife along his leg. He could feel something trickling down his hip...probably blood, since it was warm. Stone must have hit pretty deep.

Stone dragged Emma up to her feet, clasping her to him like a shield. Her face was pale, her expression terrified. But not for herself.

For him
.

Something else caught his attention. Stone was training a pistol on him. Lining up carefully. His mouth was still moving though. More whispered bullshit to Emma, no doubt.

Peirce stared into her eyes, focused on her. He had to make her understand him. “Look at me, babe. Just at me.”

She nodded once, small, barely noticeable. She was the bravest woman he’d ever met and she’d survive this.

“In a second you’re going to have to duck,” he said, fully aware that Stone could hear him, uncaring if he did.

Her lips moved.
Which way?

“Just breathe and choose.”

Again, the nod.

Oh, gods, please don’t let him miss. He’d lived for years on his instincts. He couldn’t fuck up now.

Stone was still gloating, some petty speech about the way he’d wait for Peirce to fail before shooting him.

Like Aerian roulette...

Emma wouldn’t look away from him.
I love you
, she mouthed.

“One...” he called out to her, keeping his voice steady.

If he missed, he didn’t care if Stone lodged a bullet in him or not.

“Two...”

His fingers tightened on the handle of the knife. He couldn’t miss.
Wouldn’t
miss.

“Three!”

Chapter 12

“Will he be okay?” Emmaline asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Kai nodded and Douglass patted the seat next to him. They’d been waiting at the med-centre for almost four hours. Peirce had gone into surgery minutes after they’d arrived with a Lawmen escort—an apparent perk of taking down a man like Stone.

The instant she’d pitched her weight to the side, she’d seen Peirce’s arm flash forward. But she didn’t stop to check on Stone. She was only focused on reaching Peirce.

He was bleeding out in a steady stream, unable to feel Stone’s wound. She’d ripped off her own shirt and pressed it to his side, praying it would be enough. Kai and Douglass had rolled up moments later, taking in the scene in seconds. Kai had fired a single bullet into Stone’s head, despite the obvious knife sticking out of his throat, while Douglass and Emma loaded Peirce up and they tore back to Monterrey as fast at the Stallion would go. Douglass had called in everything on the way and before she knew it, the roads to the nearest centre were cleared and an escort followed them in.

Still, it had taken forever to reach the place. Peirce was pale and clammy by the time they’d wheeled him out of the room. She hadn’t even had time to say goodbye before he was whisked away.

And now she was trapped in this purgatory, waiting for news that would make or break the rest of her life.

“The waiting’s the hardest part,” Douglass sympathised.

She just nodded and began counting the tiles on the floor for the thirteenth time.

“Hey, boss-man’s strong,” Kai chipped in. “There’s no way he’d let an asshole like Richard Stone take him down. Not when you’re waiting out here for him.”

She smiled a little at that one.

Another hour passed. Two. Three.

She was about to hunt down one of those registration robots when Peirce’s surgeon stepped out into the waiting room. “Mr. Taggart’s family?”

They all rushed him. It must have been intimidating, come to think of it. Douglass and Kai in their full body armour, weapons still strapped to their backs. She, in nothing but blood-soaked pants and an oversized shirt Douglass had thrown to her on their way into the centre. She must have looked feral.

It didn’t matter.

“Is he okay?” she blurted out, praying to all the gods that he was.

The surgeon smiled soothingly at her. “He’s fine. We were able to close everything back up. He lost a lot of blood, but with a few transfusions, he’ll make a full recovery. He was heavily sedated and is just coming out of it. Would you still like to see him?”

She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. She vaguely felt Douglass patting her shoulder, heard Kai’s gentle murmur of encouragement and she was speed-walking her way down the hall, the surgeon practically jogging to keep up with her.

Peirce was there in the bed, bruised, battered, hooked up to more machines than he had in his entire garage and
whole
.

Hers
. All hers
.

She hovered at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do. All those memories of her mother surrounded by machines, in so much pain she couldn’t stand a simple touch, were roaring through her head, poisoning this moment—

He blinked slowly and those gorgeous, light-blue eyes looked at her. The corner of his mouth lifted. He stretched out his fingers toward her and she clasped his hand in hers, so grateful for his warmth, the constant beep of his heart rate, the stench of blood and battle sweat and antiseptic. “Babe—”

She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry...

“—you look like hell.”

“Same to you, Mr. Taggart.”

He shifted in the bed, sending up a chorus of angry noises from the machines and patted the empty space next to him. She crawled up without hesitation.

The moment she was side to side with him, he gave a deep sigh of contentment and settled back against the pillow. They lay in quiet for a few moments before he groaned.

“What?” She was instantly alert.

“I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“I’m going to have to buy you a fucking ring now.”

She tried to hide her smile, but couldn’t manage it. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Yeah. I kind of committed back there, in case you don’t remember.”

“True. But you’ve forgotten something else that’s important.”

“What’s that?”

She kissed his nose, loving how groggy and pissed off he sounded. “I still owe you three thousand credits.”

“Oh.” His eyes narrowed. “You do. Buy your own damn ring.”

“Fine.”

She was just drifting off when he cleared his throat. “Emma?”

“What?”

“You never answered, you know.”

“Never answered what?”

“If you would.”

She smiled against his chest and dug his welding gloves out of her pocket, placing them gently in his hand. “William.”

“Huh?”

“Whenever we have him. That’s his name.”

“William? William Taggart.” He kissed the top of her head. “I guess that’s okay.”

“Go to sleep, Peirce.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And they both slept with no nightmares.

BESTSELLING TITLES BY ESCAPE PUBLISHING…

Red Moon

by M.A. Grant

Dark, moving and original, a story of family, survival, and getting on with life...

Flynn Sinclair understands pack loyalty — for years as his Alpha father’s enforcer, he has done things in the name of duty that he can’t ever forget. But the vast space of Alaska offers him a peace he’s never known. Alone, removed from pack life, he can focus on his research and try and forget his life before.

But duty has a way of inviting itself in, and Flynn finds himself doing two reckless things in one week: leaving the safety of Alaska to save his brother Connor’s life, and unwittingly falling in love with Evie Thompson, a woman who doesn’t deserve to be drawn into his terrifying world.

Connor carries news of their father’s descent into madness, and it looks like neither geography nor Flynn’s attempts at disengagement will put off a confrontation. Flynn had finally begun to believe that he might deserve something good in his life — something like Evie — but to move forward in the light, he must first reconcile with the dark.