BUFF (23 page)

“BECKY!”
Colt shouts from the top of his lungs.

His head whips around the immediate vicinity as his legs carry him with the speed of a race-track horse on steroids. Not bothering to think he just keeps moving, dodging around trees and bushes like a flash of lightning. He knows the area like the back of his hand. There’s no time to waste. Becky would have answered by now. Something’s wrong. The woods aren't that dense that she can’t hear his calls.

Where are you?!

Adrenaline shoots through him like a drug, sending him forward like an out-of-control missile. He’s sprinting so fast his heart is beating somewhere between his throat and his stomach. His legs burn from the pressure of his rapid pace, but those are minor nothings compared to finding Becky.

Did Kulich see right through him? Did someone betray them? Does Kulich have Becky?

“Fuck... Jenson!” He doesn’t waste time turning around or slowing down. The later it gets, the colder she will be, and the greater chance of her falling ill or… something worse. "Go back around the other way,” he orders Jenson, “toward the house. Now!"

Jenson's “Okay,” is a tiny vibration of sound next to the wind in his ears and the fear in his head.

“Becky!”

Fuck! Where the hell are you?

“Answer me!"

He sees something a few feet ahead. A shadow—movement… something had definitely shifted against the solid blackness of the trees. He sees it. He slows down a bit close to where he saw the supposed sighting.

“Becky?” he heaves into the air. No-one returns his answer.

His head spins around but everything looks the same, blurring together like a mesh of nature. Colt can’t decipher tree from tree. Every area looks the same as the other no matter which way his head turns. He feels like he’s in some sort of twisted funhouse in search of a way out that doesn’t exist.

Scurrying forward Colt licks his cracked lips, beating down the panic that awakes and stretches inside him like a demon rising from Hell.

She's okay… There’s nothing out here that can hurt her. She probably just…

Branches crackle underneath him. His large puffs of breath the only noise in the countryside. His fingers claw at his hair, digging through the top of his head. He steps closer to the edge of the small hill that drifts from the trail. His dark glare soaks in the details of the setting laid out in front of him, certain he has missed something. The meadow is clear, clean. There’s no sign of life or a disturbance of any kind.

“Becky!” he growls. His feet are moving forward but his head is darting in ten different directions, back and forth. He glances at the ground below the hill, his eyes skim the bushes below meeting only pitch darkness and then…

Pale, white flesh.

He sprints down the steep hill, tripping a few times, but it only helps to hasten his pace. He passes one of her sneakers on the side but doesn’t pick it up. His single-minded attention only on her.

He stops at the bottom, his body jolting into a frozen position as his brain wraps around the frightening sight in front of him.

Becky. Unconscious.

Her body L-shaped.

There’s a jagged cut that starts at the corner of her bottom lip and squiggles out. He takes in the lump on the side of her head, the purple bruise on her cheek, but even those healable marks aren't what paralyzes him in place.

Blood.

From her head.

The red substance trickles down the side of her face like a tiny river that never subsides its flow. The blood isn’t dry... That means it’s still very much oozing from some place on her head he can’t see.

Jesus Christ, has she been shot?

But he hadn't heard any gunfire. This is bad. Real bad. He crouches down over her body scooping his arm under her fragile neck.

“Jenson!” he shouts, lifting her in his arms. She’s light as a feather in his heavy-set arms. He holds her against his chest as he takes his first cramped breath, inhaling her hair. “It's okay,” he whispers, smelling her scent and kissing the top of her head. His heart pinches to life inside him. “You're gonna be okay, Becky. I promise."

It’s the first promise he isn’t sure he can deliver.

*     *     *

LIKE A BODYGUARD
at his post, Colt refuses to move from his spot.

He stands near Becky but doesn’t crowd her, watching her and nothing else. Besides for the small rise and fall of his chest he hasn’t budged from place.

Colt had surrounded her body with as many cushions as possible, using one to lay her head on. By the time Jenson returned with the warmest comforter he could find, Colt had already started a fire that’s still roaring with life.

Besides for the small incoherencies meant for Becky's ears only, Colt hasn’t spoken.

This is all my fault...

He is powerless in the situation and that’s not something he’s used to handling. With the blood drizzling down from her semi-deep head wound, Jenson tries to reassure him that head wounds bleed a lot, but it doesn’t cease Colt's worry.

He washes the dirt and blood from her face, cupping her so gently like she’s a breakable antique he doesn’t want to spoil. He works slowly and silently, only asking Jenson once if he thinks a doctor is necessary because she hasn’t woken yet. Becky stirs in that precise moment, opening her eyes halfway and murmuring something unintelligible as her unfocused gaze shines on Colt.

He smiles down at her, brushing his thumb over her smooth bruised cheek and whispers a
shsshing
noise against her forehead. The sound must have held some magic to it because by the time his soft command reaches her, Becky's eyes close and her breathing levels. Colt's features go back to stone again.

“Colt,” Jenson calls softly to his stiff back.

Turning his head a fraction of an inch, Colt replies, “She's sleeping. Lower your voice."

“Can I…”

Begrudgingly, Colt uproots himself from the place he’s been standing for the past half-hour straight. Nudging his chin in the direction of the hallway Jenson backs up as Colt glances once more to Becky in front of the fire. She’s so beautiful when she sleeps, it almost takes his breath away.

Sleeping Beauty...

Her bruises look worse next to the flames, darker, more pronounced like the fire is drawing out the worst of her fall. The cut on her forehead is too deep into her thick hair to see, but the one on her lip has crusted over already. The small scratch looks like a tiny bolt of lightning.

“What?” Colt's hands rest on his hips. He's ready to end the conversation that hasn’t even begun yet.

Jenson levels his gaze on him. “Sorry, man. I'm… I was wrong, I should've never let her go out."

“You're right.” Colt doesn’t spare him an inch of relief. “You shouldn't have."

Colt's stare is colder than any blast of wind. All Jenson can do is shrug. “I get it if you want another guy up here... For the next round I mean."

“There won’t be a next time."

“Colt, I—”

“It's over, Jenson.” Colt’s brow covers the expression of his eyes like an awning. “I'm taking Becky to her family. Soon.”

“Oh... So it will be over soon?"

Colt sighs, the small breath holding the weight of his thoughts. “Yeah... Soon."

“Guess that's good then... Things can go back to normal, finally, right?"

Patting Jenson's shoulder Colt gives the man a stiff smile. “Ride safe."

Jenson doesn’t move, even when Colt walks around him to open the door.

“Be careful,” Jenson says.

Colt peers out at the night Sky from the door, scraping his chin as he overlooks Jenson's words of advice. “I can take care of this."

Jenson turns and meets Colt's face, not blinking. “I mean with her, Colt. Be careful with her."

“What’d you think I've been doin’? I'm protecting her. I'm making sure she stays alive until I can get her and her family outta here. Told you it will be soon. Everything else is outta my control until then."

“You know what I mean, man. There's something going on with you two. Something more than just this damn situation." Sending him a glare Colt breaks eye contact. “Not trying to pry, Colt. Know it's none of my business but—”

“Goddamn right it's not."

“—but I see it. From both of you. Becky she cares about you, man. Just the mention of your name makes her all jittery and shit—”

“It's called hate, Jenson. She hates me. With good fucking reason."

“No you're wrong. That's why you're running scared shitless."

“Don’t push me, Jenson.”

“You’re still my brother, Colt. Not trying to bust your balls, man. I’ve known you since you were born—I know you. You don’t think you deserve good things so you're not seeing what's going on right in front of you.” Jenson shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Colt, you need to let your guard down, man. Let her fucking in. God knows you deserve to be happy again. It's been a long time coming, man."

“When’d you become such an expert on life?"

“When I saw and listened. Not that hard... But then again, I'm not the one falling for her."

“Fuck you,” Colt tosses out, his curse light and casual as it falls from his mouth. “Falling for her...?” He repeats the words as if they taste bitter, as if the preposterous idea has never entered his mind.

“You're such a stupid bastard—you know that?” Jenson goes on, unhindered. He comes to stand in front of Colt who is leaning against the wall, his head down. “You think I don't know why you did what you did for her. Why you saved her family. It's a lot more than just gratitude. Gratitude is one thing... you're risking your freaking life for this girl—your job, Kulich, everything. Because what?”

“She saved my life. I owe her."

“Bullshit.” Jenson shakes his head. “That's bullshit and you know it. You wouldn't have done any of this, gone this far for her if you didn't feel something. And the other day, man, I interrupted something in the kitchen... There definitely—”

“Jenson."

“What would've happened if I didn't come in, huh? You want her, you like her, its so fucking obvious, you just don't want to like her. Isn't that right?” Colt shakes his head. “She’s special, Colt, I get it. The world ain’t made up much with girls like her. Don’t fuck this up... You ain’t your dad."

Standing straight Colt reaches his full height, his stare heavily armored. “You don’t wanna go there," Colt says through clenched teeth. But seconds later he sighs, his shoulders lowering a little. "Just go. Know how scared you get when you ride at night."

“Is that so, Colt?” Jenson says with a grin, backing off before sighing. “Like I said, Colt, I'm not trying to piss you off. I just… I care about you, man, and Becky. She's sweet—too fucking sweet for all this shit. You gotta be careful with her.” Jenson glances at her sleeping form then swings his eyes back to Colt who’s watching over Becky.

“I'd never hurt her on purpose,” Colt admits, his voice for the first time defenseless. “I don't want her hurt... I'm trying..."

“I know, man. I know.” Jenson finds the keys hanging on the wall next to him. He grabs them and gives Colt a tentative smile before stepping out the door. “I'll be in touch."

“Yeah.”

Colt doesn’t turn his sight from Becky.

He isn't his father. He isn't.

*     *     *

WHEN SHE AWAKES
it’s to the sound of crackling fire and warm silence.

For a second Becky thinks she is dead. Or dreaming. The smell of sweet coffee, the peaceful lull of quiet invades her senses like a drug filling the crevasses of her insides that the cold has hollowed out.

Her lashes blink up at the ceiling; fluttering and off-beat with her foggy mind. She searches to remember where she is and what’s happened to bring her here. Trying to move she suddenly feels a shockwave of pain bolt up from her jaw to the center of her head. She stifles the painful cry in her throat; if it hurt just to speak now then this short-lived twinge is just the warning pain of a migraine if she dares to move an inch out of place.

Her eyes drift down to her body. A sea of pillows and blankets lay around her. The roaring fire beside her stokes higher; a gentle heat to her damp and bruised body. Becky feels like a rag doll that’s been trashed and gnarled on by a bunch of seething dogs. She attempts to move again, the vibration of pain just a slight introduction to God knows what.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Becky freezes. Her eyes travel right, her body lays still on its back. Colt is on the couch. He looks like he’s been there for some time, watching her.

Watching over her.

“I'm… I’m fine.” She clears her throat. It burns. “I… could use some Motrin or something."

Colt is in the kitchen before the last letter utters from her mouth. As he makes his way back to her she gets a full head-to-toe view of him.

He looks… good. Better than good. His complexion has held on to its golden-brown color while his eyes are diamond bright and piercing. Whatever weight he lost from the gunshot wound has been replaced and filled in his face and upper body, giving him an all around healthy male glow.