Page 16 of Undone
My mind shouted contradictory orders. I sat half upright in the tub, ready to spring out and hit the floor, and at the same time prepared to throw myself down in the tub and hide, to cover my head with my arms and wait for the storm to pass.
Something slammed in the front room. My heart skipped a beat. The sounds of a scuffle crept under the door. Jasper grunted something. Through the door it came out mute and muffled. Then, a gunshot.
The sound turned my blood cold. That wasn’t a table breaking or a window smashing. That was the distinct, concussive bang of a firearm discharging. I’d never heard a gunshot before, but it was unmistakable.
After that, silence. What happened? I’d only heard one gunshot. That meant that one person had been shot, if anyone. That meant that there were two others. If Jasper and Jackson were the last men standing, then why hadn’t they come in to collect me? Maybe it had been a headshot. Maybe it was gruesome, and they wanted to spare me the sight. If that was the case, why hadn’t they at least told me everything was fine?
No, that couldn’t be it. One of them had been shot, I knew it. Either Jackson or Jasper was down. The idea that either of them had taken a bullet for me… In the darkness, I shook the thought from my head. I swallowed hard, but my throat was parched and dry. One of them had been shot, and now he was lying in the middle of the living room, bleeding out. That’s what had happened, I was sure of it.
Unless it had been a misfire. Someone had pulled a gun and fired and missed. The gunshot scared off my stalker, and now Jasper and Jackson were pursuing him through the woods. That was why everything seemed so deathly silent. The cabin was empty. My stalker was fleeing through the woods like a wounded deer being hounded by a pair of angry, ravenous wolves. That was why Jackson and Jasper were so silent—they weren’t around. They would come back and tell me everything was fine. They’d caught up to the stalker and put him down. Or maybe he was under arrest. Either way, everything would be fine.
Right?
Unless it wasn’t fine. Unless Jasper was the one in the living room, shot and bleeding, while Jackson fought a losing battle outside. Then my stalker would come in and drag me out into the living room and tie me up. We were too far from civilization for anyone to hear me. I’d scream and scream, but nobody would come and save me, and my last memory of living would be staring up at my stalker over the barrel of a gun—
No, no. That couldn’t happen. What had Jasper said? He’d protect me no matter what. If my stalker was strong, he’d get stronger. If my stalker was smart, he’d get smarter.
But we had to do it right. That was what he’d said, wasn’t it? He couldn’t save me from getting hit by a car if I was dancing in the road. This wasn’t right. Me, sitting in this bathtub like a teeny-tiny, helpless, fucking baby waiting for the grown-ups to handle the problem outside. Jasper could be bleeding out like a stuck pig just a few yards from me, and the smart thing to do was to go out and help.
Two against one was good. Three against one was better.
So, get up!
I pulled myself up. My limbs felt like they were filled with sand. I couldn’t just lie in the bathtub, but every instinct—and not to mention Jasper’s instructions—worked against me. I lifted one foot over the edge of the tub, toed solid ground, and followed up with the other leg. I moved silently, with the grace and precision of a cat’s shadow, listening for danger.
What would happen if my stalker kicked the door in? I’d be blinded by the light, probably, but I’d have the upper hand. I was ready for him. If that door came busting in, I’d go tearing out of the room like a banshee, a whirling mass of fists and feet.
I paused, squatting down to look under the door. If someone was on the other side, I’d see the two shadows of their feet against the light. No shadows. So far so good.
My fingers found the doorknob in the darkness, and I pressed against the wall, tilting my head toward the door so I’d hear better. Nothing, no sounds.
How long had it been? How long had I been messing around in this bathroom? It felt like a million years. It seemed like only seconds, but it was a million years I’d been in here. Civilizations had come and gone. They’d probably built pyramids on top of this cabin, and some archaeologist doing a television show in the year three million was going to find me and dig me up, a relic from an earlier time.
I eased the door open and looked out.
The cabin looked empty. No pyramids. Only a minute or two had passed, as far as I could tell. I leaned around the corner, assessing the situation the way I’d seen Jasper do it. Granted, when Jasper did it, he usually had a gun at the ready, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
A groan.
I froze. Jackson?
Jackson lay on the floor by the bed. A pool of blood had formed around his leg. His face was twisted into a grimace, a mixture of pain and annoyance.
“Get your ass back in the bathroom,” Jackson grunted. “It’s just a graze.”
“Where’s Jasper?” I asked, approaching Jackson. It was more than a graze. I wasn’t a medical doctor, but it looked like the bullet had gone all the way through his thigh, because there was blood on both sides. That meant two holes, right?
“He’s outside. He’s got everything under control,” Jackson said. “Now get back in the bathroom!”
“He needs my help,” I said. “I’ll be back. Keep quiet. We’ll call an ambulance for you.”
“Goddammit, Cari,” Jackson grumbled. He did as he was told, though. I crept my way to the front door, which stood opening like the gaping maw of a beast.
Stepping out onto the porch, I squinted. The lights in the cabin had shot my night vision to crap, and at first all I could see was Jasper standing with his gun drawn. I could only make out the silhouette he was aiming at, but it looked like the man—presumably my stalker—had a gun trained on Jasper as well.
My eyes cleared, and I recognized the man. Tall, lean-muscled. Golden blond hair flopping boyishly into his eyes.
“Nolan?” I asked.
