Buried Secrets (New Adult Dark Suspense Romance) (24 page)

“Dusty shot it twice,” he said. “It could be lying dead out there right now.”

She stared at him with wide eyes as he talked. He moved her behind him and motioned for Cody and Nate to do the same.

The shadow grew longer and longer, and Shane kept talking.

“This damn cemetery is huge.” Shane raised and quietly cocked the gun.

Dusty looked past him, toward the western fence, and then at the growing shadow. Nate and Cody stood protectively on either side of her.

“I guess it could be anywhere by now.”

The thing sprang from around the corner, claws raised, teeth bared, and Dusty did scream then. Her screams mingled with its laughter and Shane's voice. Both Cody and Nate jumped back, crushing her between them.

“But it's right here and it's going to
die!”
Shane began to pull the trigger.

The first bullet caught its throat, jerking it back. The second went into its chest, the third into its stomach, the fourth, the fifth—Shane just kept firing, watching it stagger back toward the fence.

“
DIE
, you son-of-a-bitch!” Shane screamed.

He was pulling the trigger and it just clicked, empty. Dusty looked at the thing leaning against the fence, its breathing ragged, but it was
breathing—

“You fucker!” Shane yelled, the rage in his voice thick.

He went after it with his bare hands and Dusty cried out, starting after him. Cody grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her back. Shane abandoned the gun, throwing it in the snow, and circled the thing’s throat with his hands, screaming at it.

“You killed my friends, you bastard!” Shane forced it backward and it struggled weakly. It didn’t even raise its claws.

“You’re—Going—To—Pay—For—It!” Shane cried, punctuating each word by pushing it farther back. It didn’t have much strength left and Dusty watched, horrified with herself when she felt pity as she heard it choking for air, spitting up blood.

It was dying.

Enough,
she thought.
Oh, that's enough.

Its eyes rolled back into its head as Shane pressed harder, harder. It was up against the fence now, squirming and wheezing.

Dusty screamed when a long spike pierced its throat, straight through Shane's hand. Shane cried out, cursing, pulling his hand carefully, painfully, off the spike. Dusty rushed toward him, screaming his name. He stood there, holding his hand, eyes closed.

“My God, are you okay? Shane, are you okay?” It was a stupid question, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She repeated it over and over until he dutifully replied, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

But it was obvious he wasn't.

They all looked at the thing dangling there. Its chest had stopped heaving. Dusty felt her stomach tighten, looking at the spike protruding from its throat.

“Is it over?” Nate asked hoarsely, coming to stand beside them. Cody stood just behind Nate, staring at the body with wide eyes. Then he turned and vomited into the snow. Dusty looked away, her own stomach heaving.

“It's dead,” Shane said.

And that doesn’t exactly answer the question, does it?
Dusty thought.

Is it over?

They had three bodies to explain and tomorrow to look forward to. Dusty thought of Nick. His killer was dead, but she didn’t feel relieved or unburdened or even satisfied... she just felt sick. She tried to imagine her brother's face and found she couldn’t. It frightened her. She couldn’t remember just what he looked like, couldn’t remember the exact tone of his voice, the exact color of his eyes.

She looked at the body on the fence.

It was dead.

But so was Nick.

“Can you guys do me a favor and take the guns back to my car?” Shane sat in the snow. “I'm not feeling so hot.”

“Sure.” Cody picked up the Glock. Nate was still holding tightly to the shotgun.

“I'll be there in a minute or two. I'm gonna rest here,” Shane told them. “I'll meet you at the car.”

“No, you won't.” Dusty knelt beside him. The blood ran freely from his hand. There was an actual hole right through it, the flesh parting in an odd, jagged way. She saw all sorts of things no one should see—tendons and bones. She reached into her pocket for her phone.

“No service. Damnit.” She glanced up at Cody and Nate. “Can you get service?”

They had their phones out already but both of them shook their heads.

Dusty began digging in Shane’s pockets.

“What are you doing?” he asked when she pulled out his keys.

“Cody, take the car,” Dusty said. “Drive toward town until you get service or find a phone. Call an ambulance. And the police. I'm going to bandage his hand the best I can and I'll wait here with him.”

Cody hesitated, looking at Shane.

“He's not driving my car,” Shane told her, standing up. “Last time he drove my car—”

He swayed unsteadily and then sat heavily back down.

Sighing, he looked at Cody. “Take my car.”

“Okay.” Cody looked worried. He glanced over at Nate, who was also frowning. “We'll be back.”

They started walking away and Dusty watched them for a moment.

“I feel drunk.” Shane looked up at her as Dusty turned back to him.

“You're losing too much blood.” She took off her coat.

Shane watched as she unbuttoned her blouse and took that off too. He stared at her then, at the flesh of her breasts over the top of her bra.

“Now?” He managed to grin.

“No!” Dusty laughed, pulling her jacket back on and tearing strips off her blouse. She turned her attention to Shane’s wound, wrapping the strips around his hand. He winced and shut his eyes. When she finished, he opened them and looked at her.

“I'm cold,” he confessed.

She moved toward him, putting her arms around him and sitting next to him in the snow.

“My ass is still cold,” he murmured against her hair. Then he whispered, “I'm tired.”

“I know.” She snuggled closer to him against the wind.

He stroked her hair with one hand, his bandaged hand resting on her thigh. The moon was sinking behind the trees. Behind them, the body dangled lifelessly and Dusty didn’t look back at it.

But she wanted to.

She was afraid it might be moving.

“We're gonna be okay.” Shane said it as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “We did it. We really did it.”

“Yeah,” Dusty breathed, a sadness settling somewhere inside.

Nick was still gone.

“Now what?”

She didn’t answer him. She honestly didn’t know. It had grown darker, the moon moving away from them, behind the trees. She could only see his outline.

“My hand hurts, Dusty.” He sounded like a child. She kissed the top of his head, closing her eyes and snuggling in closer to him.

“NO!”

Dusty looked up, gasping.

“NO! NO!”

“Sam!”

Sam looked behind her, beyond her, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Puzzled, she stared at him. In one hand he carried a gun and a flashlight. In the other—
Sarge, that’s Sarge!
—he held a dog by the scruff of its neck. It hung limply.

“Yuh-yuh-you b-b-bitch!” he spat at her, flicking the flashlight on and shining it in her face. She tried to shield her eyes. The light was so bright, she couldn’t see.

“What do you want?” Shane shaded his own eyes with his bandaged hand.

“Yuh-you k-killed huh-him!” Sam cried, distraught.

The dog thudded in the snow and Sam looked behind them with wide, frightened eyes. Dusty stared at him, thoroughly confused, questions coming and going in her mind faster than she could keep up.

Sam knew?

“Yuh-yuh-yuh-you kuh-kuh...” Tears began to fall down Sam's cheeks. “Yuh-yuh-yuh-yuh...”

“Sam, what are you doing here?” Dusty asked him, her voice gentle. She motioned for Shane to be quiet.

“Yuh-You k-k-
KILLED
huh-him!” Sam swiped a hand across his eyes. “Huh-he was m-m-my fuh-
FATHER!”

“You knew?” Dusty whispered.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her. “Yuh-you said you wuh-were m-my fruh-friend.”

“Sam, I
am
you friend, but...”

“Dusty,” Shane said softly beside her.

She motioned for him to be quiet.

“Huh-he wuh-was m-my fuh-fuh-fuh-father.” Tears glistened on Sam’s cheeks. He looked so young, staring behind them forlornly at the grotesque form speared on the fence.

In the distance, she could hear sirens.

“Dusty,” Shane said, much more urgent.

She looked at the dead dog in the snow—
Sarge, oh Sarge
—remembering the other missing animals. Mr. Cooper’s dog, Red. Other pets. Thought about Shane saying
, I can’t find it. I can’t track it. It’s like it disappears.

“You knew,” she whispered. “You were hiding him…
feeding
him..
.
”

“
Dusty!”
Shane shook her. “Damn it, Dusty, that's Nick's gun and there's two—”

Dusty met his eyes and then looked back at Sam. The gun was leveled at her.

“Sam,” she breathed, but she couldn’t follow it up with anything. The breath had been sucked from her body and she could only stare at the gun. The sirens that, just a moment before, had been piercing the air, now seemed very far away.

“Yes! Of course I wuh-was! I luh-luh-loved him.” Sam cocked the gun but she was frozen. “Huh-he was m-m-my fuh-
FATHER
.”

“No!” Shane yelled. “No!”

Sam glanced toward the sound of Shane's voice but Dusty couldn’t move.

Nick's gun.

She saw the lights, red and blue flashing, coming down the asphalt drive toward them, but she didn’t acknowledge them, she couldn't.

Sound had receded.

Sam paused, looking at her, and then glanced back toward the lights. It was the only chance Shane needed. He leapt, knocking the gun from Sam's hand, wrestling him to the ground. Dusty sat frozen, heart rising in her throat, cutting off air flow. They were a thick tangle and then a hand reached out blindly, searching.

It fell over the gun.

“No!” She found her voice, her breath, her thoughts, and she jumped up. Sam had gotten the upper hand and leveled the gun at Shane.

“No, don't!
Don’t!”
She screamed, starting forward.

“Kuh-KILLED HIM!”

Sam pulled the trigger.

Sheriff Thompson, stepping out of the squad car, pulled his gun, yelling, “What's going on here?”

Cody and Nate, following the sheriff, stared unbelievingly.

Dusty, sobbing, looked at Shane's inert form.

“Bastard!” Dusty looked up at Sam.

A bullet whizzed past her ear.

She didn’t stop coming toward him.

Buck Thompson’s gun went off and caught Sam in the chest. Sam fell back, looking at her, dazed. She couldn’t say anything—something constricted in her chest.

“The ambulance is coming.” Nate grabbed her arm.

“What the hell is going on?” Cody looked between the two bodies lying on the ground.

Dusty collapsed beside Shane on the snow. The bullet had gone through the left pocket of his leather, a chest wound. He was bleeding heavily, and it spread, thick and dark.

“Shane?” She tried to keep the tremble from her voice.

He didn’t answer her.

“Where's the ambulance?” she demanded, looking up at Nate and Cody. Tears streaked her face. “I told you to call a goddamned ambulance!”

“One's on the way from Millsberg.” Cody knelt beside her. “Is he...?”

“I don't know.” She covered her face with her hands. “I'm afraid to...”

“Hey.” The low sound made them all look.

Shane looked up at them, unfocused, but alive.

“You're going to be okay.” Nate dropped beside them. “Ambulance is on the way.”

“Get... him?” His eyes were slits, voice thick and slurred.

Dusty leaned over him, touching his hair.

“They got him.” Cody glanced back at Sam.

“Ambulance should be here in a few minutes!” The deputy called. Matt was on the radio in his car, and Buck knelt over Sam. No one made a reply.

“Ain't got—” Shane gasped and then coughed. He was panting.

Fighting for air
, Dusty thought,
oh, God, he's fighting to
breathe.

“Lie still, okay?” Dusty stroked his hair, his cheek, unable to stop the tears falling on the collar of his leather and trickling down his throat. “You're going to be okay. Like you said, all bullet wounds aren't fatal. Just... just lie still.”