Page 15 of Gator's Gambit
Giving it some thought, I realize I haven’t. “No, now that you mention it, I haven’t. I just assumed she was in the kitchen with y’all. Or hanging out with everyone over there.” I gesture to where a large group of our friends and neighbors are all gathered in Mama’s backyard.
“No, she isn’t in either place. I wanted to ask her something, but I can’t find her anywhere.”
“Give me a second and I’ll come help you find her.” Going back to where Dad’s stoking coals, I tell him I’ll be right back.
“No problem, son. I’ve got this.”
Em and I check the house, but still don’t find her. Standing in the middle of the living room, I’m not sure what makes me go over to the window, but I’m grateful I do. My gut tightens as I see a man with his hand clamped around Fancy’s arm, dragging her away from the house. Even from here his grip looks brutal. It’s going to leave a mark for sure.
I sprint for the door, intent on stopping the man from kidnapping Fancy. Despite being as quiet as humanly possible, thanks to my training, the man spots me as he scans the area. He’s wearing a baseball cap low on his forehead, obscuring a clean view of his face, but I get the impression I’ve seen him before. However, I’m more focused on preventing him getting away with Fancy than to ponder where.
Snarling at me, he stops long enough to shove her in my direction. In a split second, I need to decide which takes precedence – saving Fancy from another nasty fall or catching the fucker. No brainer. Fancy takes priority. I manage to catch her just before she hits the ground. My eyes do a quick scan to check for injuries, but there are no obvious ones.
“You okay, Pooks?” Her gaze connects with mine, and the terror I see there has my blood pressure spiking. If I could get my hands on the bastard, I’d break his neck and not think twice about it.
It takes her a moment to gather herself enough to answer me.
“Y – yes. My arm hurts but, other than that, I’m just shaken.” Fancy’s face tells a different story, but I leave it at that for the moment. Instead, I shift my focus to her arm and grind my teeth in anger and frustration. There’s an angry red handprint encircling her upper arm, and the skin is broken where he clearly dug his nails in.
Just then Em comes running up to us. “I tried to get his license plate, but I only managed to get a partial number as he sped off. Sorry, Ric.”
“It’s fine, Em. Thanks. Although, I should probably kick your ass for chasing after that psycho.”
“I wasn’t about to let him get away without at least trying to help.”
“I appreciate it, Sis. I just worry you could have gotten hurt.”
“I’m fine.” My sister kneels down on the front path. “How about you, Fan? You all right?”
“I’m okay. Thanks, Em.”
It’s clear Fancy isn’t okay – her skin is pale as milk, and I can feel how her body has begun to tremor since I’m still holding her in my arms.
“Let’s get you up and into the house, put something on those nicks in your skin. Up you come.” Helping Fancy to her feet, Ithen tuck an arm behind her knees and lift her up into my arms. She lets out an adorable squeak and wraps her arms around my neck, clinging to me for dear life.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe. I won’t drop you. Promise.”
Em goes ahead of us to open the door. “Take her to my room. We’ll have some privacy there.” Nodding, I do as I’m told.
I deposit Fancy gently in the chair Em uses for reading while my sister goes into her adjoining bathroom.
“I don’t understand. Why is he doing this to me?” My heart hurts at the expression in Fancy’s eyes – a cross between terror, confusion, and hopelessness.
“My question is,whois he?”
A startled look crosses her face as she realizes she’d spoken out loud, and I’m assuming hadn’t intended to.
Em chooses that moment to return, her little first aid kit in hand. Deciding to leave it be for the moment, I take the small bag from my sister and place it down beside me. “All right, Pooks. Let’s have a look at that arm.”
The skin is still fiercely red, but thankfully it seems it’s only broken where the man’s nails dug in. Just goes to show how hard he must have been holding her arm. A fresh wash of rage rushes through me at the thought of Fancy enduring not just fear, which is bad enough, but also the pain of his grasp.
Dousing a cotton ball with some antiseptic, I apply it to the open wounds. A sharp hiss of pain is the only reaction Fancy gives. Not so much as a twitch to get away from the burn. I guess a lifetime of living with her skin condition has taught her to be stoic in the face of pain.
Childhood was spent in dressings and Band-Aids. Ethan, Fancy’s brother, and I were always so protective of her. I guess I still am. But we couldn’t always save her from harm. I’ll never forget the first time I researched her condition and the imagesthat I saw. They haunted me for a very long time after, and it gave me a whole new respect for what she goes through.
“You good?” I ask. A nod is all the answer I get as she bites down on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I hate hurting you.”
“I know, but it can’t be helped. It isn’t your fault.”
