Page 83 of Bleeding Blackheart

Mason Barnes is a man who has haunted my dreams for weeks, and this is the first time I’m seeing his face. He’s ugly. Probably was good-looking at some point in his life, but not anymore.

He doesn’t waste time to tell me what scum I am or how much he hates me. Instead, he charges at me, and I shove Montana out of the way, knocking her out of her chair by accident so she doesn’t get tackled.

Mason lands on me, and his fist collides with my face. I spit on him, and we roll until I’ve got him on his back, slamming his head into the concrete floor. He knees me in the groin, but I ignore the pain, knowing there’s no way in hell I’m losing this fight. When he gets me on my back, I whip one of my knives out my pants and flip it open before lodging it into the side of his neck.

His blood squirts out of his flesh and oozes onto me like a thick sludge, but he doesn’t quit fighting. I get another punch to the face, but I catch his wrist before he can deliver a third blow and flip him until he’s face down on the ground.

With his nose against the cold floor, I stomp the back of his head repeatedly, smashing his face into nothing while I’m rewarded with loud crunches while my boot gets soiled.

I look over at Montana who’s sobbing, and when I pull out my gun and point it at Mason’s pile of head matter, she nods her head. Knowing he’s dead, I fire one round in him anyway, making sure that whatever part of his brain he had left neverworks again.

Montana sleeps in the back seat of the Camero while I drive slowly down the road to my house. I wanted her in the front next to me so I could hold her hand until we got back, but I needed both of mine on the wheel to focus. And, I wanted to make her as comfortable as possible. Looking in the rear view mirror, I see her still nestled up to her pillow with a blanket over her. I might be burnt out, but I can’t wait to take care of her and nurse her back to health.

When I park, I glance around the yard, making sure no one’s waiting for us. Blade did some digging as a courtesy for me, and no one else is left to hunt us, but I’m still paranoid all the same.

I see an old pick-up truck beside the house, and I smile to myself, thankful to have Dallas as a friend. I get out of the car and go to the back, easing Montana out of it slowly while I hold her bridal style, not wanting to cause her any more pain.

I got an X-ray done on her, and she has a cracked rib, but she’ll be alright. With some bed rest and an inhaler, I’ll have her lungs working at full capacity in no time.

When I get to the door, I wrap the blanket around her tighter and use my elbow to ring the bell. Dallas come up to it and opens it for us, and I step inside slowly, feeling like I just got home from war.

I’m in disbelief when I look past the entryway to the kitchen. There are a million grocery bags and some flowers on the table. Dallas starts unpacking things and putting them away. “I wanted to make sure you guys were set when you got back.”

I tell him thanks and leave him to it while I head upstairs with my injured little fox in my arms. The second we’re in our room with the door closed, her body softens as if she’s just realized she’s okay. A hospital would probably do her good, but I’m going to repair her myself just like I did the first time that I found her.

“You’re okay,” I tell her. My words are more of a reminder to myself. I dreamed of Montana every moment my eyes were closed, and I was devastated when I opened them and she wasn’t around. For the first time, I don’t have to worry about anyone coming after her. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if this day would come.

When her back is on the mattress, I swaddle her in her blanket while I fluff up a pillow behind her head. She stays still and quiet while I go down the hall to get medical supplies and bring them to her side of the bed.

I know she wants and needs rest, but I have to clean her up first, so I run her a warm bath without soap to ease her wounds and soreness without irritating her delicate skin. I let the water fill in the tub while I get her a glass of cool liquid from the sink to drink. She won’t want it, but she’s dehydrated. And she’s fifteen pounds lighter than she was when I saw her last, so I have to get her weight back up to what it was when I met her and then some before I’m comfortable letting her out of my sight again.

I change into a clean shirt and jeans then go to where she is on the bed. Once I get her undergarments out of the way, I carry her to the tub and place her in gently, staying right by her side so her head doesn’t go under.

She winces at the contact to her open wounds, but I keep her in the plunge, knowing it’ll help her more than it hurts her.

“Gunner,” she groans while she leans her head against the side. “You came back for me.”

I kiss her hairline next to the wound I bandaged up when I put her in the car. “Of course I came back for you, Montana. I know you didn’t leave me.”

I want to tell Montana how hard I looked to find her and how sick I was without her, but none of it even matters right now.

Her eyes water, and she grips my hand that sits on the edge of the tub. “I don’t want to be without you ever again.”

Grabbing the washcloth at the edge of the tub, I start to clean her gently, doing my best to hold it together. “You won’t be. Don’t worry about anything else. All that matters now is getting you better.”

Her eyes close, and once I get her body clean, I wash her face and put ointment on her injured eye as well as the scrapes on her face and neck. Once we’re done in the bathroom, I dry her off and get her in one of my shirts to go to bed.

I tuck her in gently and rest her head on the pillows. When I’m getting ready to go downstairs to make her something to eat, she grips my hand. “Do you have any painkillers?”

I look at Montana, still in disbelief that she’s conscious right now. She needs more than a little ibuprofen. “You want some morphine?”

She smiles through her bruised lips and gives me a thumbs up. “Yes.”

I give her one more kiss on her head and set up her IV, making sure she’s got everything she needs before she drifts back off to sleep.

It takes a full week before Montana can get out of the bed and walk around comfortably on her own. While it’s been a month since we’ve met, I’ve spent less than half of that time with her, and I’m eager to get back to the life we were building before that horrible day last month.

She sits at the breakfast table while I cook for her. I’ve made her breakfast, lunch, and dinner since she’s been home, and I’ll do it for the rest of our lives if that’s what she wants. Her hair is a little longer than it was when we met, and her thick waves hang past her shoulders. “Do you think I can go riding again today?”

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