Page 65 of Heston
Obermeyer gurgled, but didn’t do a damned thing to save himself. Didn’t try once to compress the spigots Heston opened in his neck. In seconds, his heaving chest stilled.
It was over. Justice was done and revenge was sweet.
Stooping over, Heston wiped his blade on Obermeyer’s trendy camouflage pants, and finally looked for London. She hadn’t gone far. Sheathing his knife, he located her easily. She’d curled into a ball behind a bush. Typical of victims, making herself as small as possible. Her arms were around her bare legs, and her battered face was buried between her bloody, scraped knees.
Heston’s heart melted. Ripping off his blood-stained gloves, he stuffed them in his rear pocket and walked to her, uncertain of what she’d think of him now. She’d just seen him murder a man. Righteous? Abso-fuckin’-lutely. Legal? That remained to be seen. Heston wouldn’t contest a murder charge if it came down to that. He did it. He killed Obermeyer. He broke the law, and he knew the consequences. But he’d do it again to save London’s life.
Dropping to one knee at her side, he turned his comm link back on and asked, “Mother? You still with me?”
“Yes, Heston. I’m here for you, honey. How’s London?”
Honey?That was new. Heston had no idea how Mother knew he’d found London. He cared less when she told him, “Everyone not guarding TEAM HQ is on their way to assist you. Should I send EMTs or will Eric be enough? He’s closest to your location. Is she hurt bad?”
“Just Eric. Thanks.”
“Talk to me, Hes. How is she? Really?” Was Mother crying? Sure sounded like it.
“She’s alive and she’s scared. Not sure how badly she’s hurt yet. But Obermeyer’s dead.”
“Good,” Mother replied without hesitation. “Err, umm, I had drones overhead, remember?”
Oh, yeah. Drones. Damn. Mother’d seen everything.
“I’d do it again,” he growled defensively, daring her to reprimand him and ready to fight the world for London if he had to.
“I know. Honey, trust me, I know. I’m so glad you got to her in time. That rat bastard needed to die, and London needs you now. Take care of her. Eric is five minutes out.” Mother could be a nosy gal, but she really was all heart.
“Thanks, Mom.” London sniffed and Heston disconnected. “Babe,” he whispered, swiping his forearm over his forehead in case it wasn’t sweat dripping into his eyes.
London lifted her chin. Blinked. Then lurched forward and crashed into him. “Th-thank you,” she cried, pressing her bare body against his chest. “He… he was going to rape me, Hes. Him and… and those other guys. There’s seven of them, h-h-him and four bikers and two creeps in s-s-suits.”
Hiccups punctuated every sentence. Her shoulders shuddered and her chest heaved with short, hard gasps. She wassweaty and hyperventilating and still providing intel. Seeing her broken like this tore Heston apart. Gently, so as not to hurt her anymore, he gathered her onto his lap. It didn’t take long to jerk the roll of extra clothes out of his go-bag and get London dressed. She was all thumbs, tears, and stutters, trying to help, and he’d never been more sure of his love for this beautiful woman.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, as he tugged the extra pair of pants up her long, dirty legs. Those poor bloodied toes. She’d truly been in the fight of her life. “Sorry. No underwear. You’ll have to go commando. But you can’t walk, sweetheart. I’m carrying you out of here.”
“I-I knew you’d c-c-come. Only had to l-l-live long enough and… and f-f-fight… and… and…” Breaking down, she buried her face in her hands. Poor sweet thing hadn’t stopped fighting, not even after Obermeyer’d had her by the throat. The bastard!
“Lift your arms, babe.” Fighting to control his rage, Heston pulled his extra TEAM shirt over her arms, head, and shoulders. It was long enough it covered her bouncing knees. She was still in fight-or-flight mode, her nerves strung tight and adrenaline kicking her butt. But she was safe.
Tenderly, Heston tucked her under his chin again, one palm flat to her back, his other unholstering one of his pistols. There was no way he wouldn’t shoot the next fucker who came after London. He laid the loaded weapon within reach beside his hip, then wrapped both arms as tight as he could around London without hurting her.
She settled into him with an anxious whine. They were both shaking. Both suffering the after-effects of too much adrenaline. Her ear was flat against his heart. Her nails dug into his ribs, as if she didn’t dare let him go. He was her lifeline, and he’d never been more content than right then. Even with Obermeyer dead nearby.
“Am I hurting you?”
“I’m sorry, but, yeah. M-my ribs, Hes. It’s hard to… to catch a breath. I think one’s broken.”
Heston bit his tongue. She’d been beaten and nearly raped—gang-raped, for Christ’s sake! She’d been humiliated, made to strip for Obermeyer’s fucked-up idea of entertainment. In front of his asshole friends. The mere thought of what she’d lived through enraged Heston all over again.
His soul screamed to wreak the bloodiest vengeance on Obermeyer’s buddies. To rip every last one of them apart. To make them pay and cry and beg for mercy. The first chance he got, once London was safely out of there, he’d hunt those asswipes down, gut every one of them, and hang them by their intestines, high in the trees. They’d never, ever hurt anyone else—
“Th-thanks for rescuing me.” London’s soft whisper interrupted Heston’s feverish need to wreak mayhem.
He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting to be the gentle man she needed, not the brutal barbarian with blood-stained hands and the stink of Death clinging to him. Shewassafe. Shewashis. And best of all, Obermeyerwasdead. Sometimes a man had to focus on what—or who, in this case—was in his hands, instead of wishing the moment away and going after worthless scum.
A quiet, “Pssst” broke the moment. In a flash, Heston’s pistol was in his hand and whoever that fucker who’d whispered was, he’d better be prepared to die.
Zack. Thank God. It was Zack in the shadows with an index finger to his lips and his rifle across his chest, stock up, barrel down. Striding straight for Heston, he dropped to his knees. Digging out a black canteen from under his tactical vest, Zack unscrewed the cap and handed it to London. “Here, darlin’. Have a drink. Easy now. Not too much. Not too fast, either. There you go. My car’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away, MissLondon. Feel like letting me take over this hunt of yours while Heston gets you to a hospital?”
