Page 72 of Girl, Bound

Martin. She had to getback to Martin. Had to feel his arms around her one more time, smell the OldSpice on his collar, hear the rumble of his laughter in her ear. She’d get backto him, even if it meant crawling through the Devil’s asshole.

So she laid intoDraven with everything she had. Every ounce of skill, every dirty trick she'dlearned on the streets and in the BOGOs. She was a whirlwind of fists and fury,a force of nature that would not be denied.

And when it was over,when Draven lay broken and whimpering at her feet, Ripley stood tall amidst thecarnage. Bloody, battered, but unbroken.

‘You like needles,huh?’ she growled, yanking Draven's arms behind his back, the cuffs ratchetingshut like the jaws of fate. ‘Let’s see how you like the lethal injection.’

Ripley gave the cuffsan extra twist, relishing the yelp of pain it drew from Draven's split lips.Then she was moving, staggering back to where Holbrook lay prone and pale onthe blood-soaked earth.

She dropped to herknees beside him, fingers fumbling for a pulse. For one terrible, endlessmoment, she felt nothing. Just the clammy stillness of a corpse, cooling in thenight air.

But then, faint andthready, the flutter of life. The barest whisper of a heartbeat, stubborn as anold mule, clinging to the world of the living.

Ripley sagged withrelief, a ragged sob tearing free from her throat. She gathered Holbrook intoher arms, cradling his head against her chest, feeling the shallow rise andfall of his breath. Behind her, Draven lay face-down in the damp earth. Hemight have been dead already. Ripley didn't know or care.

‘You hang on, youtough old bird,’ she shouted into his ear. She reached into Holbrook’s pocket,pulled out his phone and dialled for backup.

‘You hear me?Cavalry's on its way, so don't you go punching your ticket just yet.’

Holbrook coughed andspluttered. It wasn’t much, but it was life.

Ripley looked up atthe pitiless stars.

She was coming home.

‘Call Ella,’ he said.His fingers spasmed. Lips twitched.

Alive.

‘She’ll be fine.’

‘No,’ Holbrook spat.‘First aid kit. In my car. Use it.’

‘You’re alive,Sheriff. Medics will be here soon. Hold on.’

‘Not on me. On… theother vic.’

Of course, Ripleythought.

She punched in Ella’snumber.

It rang twice, threetimes.

‘Pick up, goddamit,’Ripley shouted.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Ella knelt in thedirt, cradling Ava Schofield's head in her lap like a mother with a sick child.The girl was a rag doll; floppy limbs and rolling eyes, barely clinging to theworld of the living.

‘Stay with me, Ava,’Ella pleaded. ‘Don't you quit on me now, you hear? Your brother's waiting foryou, kid. You gotta fight.’

But Ava was slippingaway. Her lips moved soundlessly. Perhaps a final prayer or a curse on thebastard who'd sealed her up in that airless tomb.

Ella's mind flashedback to Christian Maddox, to the way he'd shuddered and gone slack in her arms.The memory was a knife in her guts, twisting with every stuttering beat ofAva's heart.

She couldn't let ithappen again. Couldn't bear to cradle another cooling body, to feel the weightof one more soul slipping through her fingers.

Ella gritted herteeth, a growl building in her throat. ‘Breathe, dammit,’ she snarled, shakingAva like a ragdoll. ‘Your brother’s waiting. He needs you.’

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