Love, Death and Justice Page 4

  “You quit, I didn’t. I was going to, but… Then when…when your sister died, I couldn’t stop. This is my life and it will be until I die or until a bullet ends me.” He still didn’t turn his way and Lance was pissed off.

  “You bastard!” he shouted, not caring if he woke Catherine up. Lance charged Ben, lashing out, and what ensued were two men evenly matched in any fight. As much as Lance had been away from the scene, he’d kept in top shape, even if his age was becoming a factor now.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Ben growled.

  Lance couldn’t believe he’d thought this bastard was his friend.

  “My sister loved you.” It was a cruel thing to bring up but it stopped Ben, made him pause.

  “You don’t think I didn’t know that? Fuck, Lance, the only time I could breathe was when I was with her. She made my life worth living. I thought to myself, one last mission—a big one—would set me up for life. So there was one more that you didn’t know about. I would have given her the world, Lance. The fucking world. I went on the mission, got the money. When I got back, the woman I loved—the woman who owned my heart—was lying in a body bag in the morgue with Cyril Woods as the culprit. There is no other woman out there for me.” Ben went back to the table and began going through the guns. “He’s a sneaky bastard, which is why I’ve not had any success, but I want Cyril dead!” Ben shouted out.

  Silence descended on the room and Lance looked over at the entrance to see Catherine.

  “You think I’m the key to helping you?” she asked Ben.

  He nodded. “Sid once told me she had a tendency to tell you the truth through over-dramatised stories—her way of feeling as though she kept you in the loop.”

  “She didn’t tell me many stories.”

  “Then let’s hope what she did tell you is enough to keep you alive. We’ve got to move out. I’ve already had warning that men are getting closer, and the farm is too open. We’re moving north.” Ben gathered the weapons and left the kitchen.

  “This is really happening?”

  Catherine looked so beautiful and dishevelled, Lance wanted to go over and comfort her but kept his distance. There was no need to add more pressure to her. Also, he didn’t like the way his wayward thoughts were going.

  “It’s moving so fast. I can’t think properly,” she continued.

  “Yes, this is all real, and we don’t have time to think. Grab whatever blankets you can get. We’re on the move soon.” He left her to fend for herself while he prepared to leave. He wished he could wrap her up in cotton wool and protect her but the world today didn’t allow it, and they were facing a much bigger threat than something like a mere financial crisis.

  Several minutes later, the loud growl of a truck came to life and Lance frowned. They’d come in a small car last night. He wondered how deep his friend was in the hideout scene. How long had he been preparing for this very moment? Catherine had spoken of the situation going by so fast, what about his life? It felt like only a short time ago he was with Ben, laughing and cheering about their success. Now Ben had been replaced by the stranger outside, with tools, cars, safe houses, weapons and all the intel to say he was on more than a quick weekend adrenaline adventure.

  Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he called out to Catherine to get her butt in gear. She jogged in, carrying an armful of blankets.

  “I’m ready to go,” she said, going to where he stood next to the kitchen window. Lance took her hand and urged her forward.

  For the second time in as many hours, a bullet shot right through the glass where Catherine had stood a moment previously. Lance reacted instantly, pushing her to the ground and falling on top of her as the rain of bullets careened around them. All six windows of the kitchen were smashed to the floor within seconds. A short break in the gunfire gave him time to check what was going on. He needed to get them out of the house and to the truck. His phone started ringing, and, cursing, he answered.

  “Told you we didn’t have enough time,” Ben growled down the line.

  “Well, I’ve got your fucking piece of evidence and no weapon.”

  “Shit. I saw them approaching and went to the front before they could see me. Get there before they see you.” The call disconnected.

  Great! How the fuck was he going to get to the front without being seen? Fucking brilliant plan, Ben.

  Shit, he didn’t have the fucking head for this.

  He rolled Catherine over, her eyes wide in shock. “We’ve got to get to the front. Do you want to live?”

  A jerk of the head was all he needed. Pulling her up, he forced her to follow him. They stopped when they heard the kitchen door being opened. Lance cursed and placed a hand over Catherine’s mouth to stop the sob he could see rising out of her.

  “They’re not here,” he heard one of the men say.

  “We’ve got to get out of here, and I need you to make as little noise as possible,” he whispered near her ear.

  She nodded and he removed his hand. Taking her hand in one of his, he moved out. They went through several rooms including the main sitting room—considering it was a small house, there were certainly a lot of rooms. He made sure to close every door behind him and they finally found the front door.

  They were out the front and down the steps when Catherine lost her footing, her leg twisting at an odd angle. She landed on the gravel with a crash and released a scream of agony, which echoed in the early morning air.

  Lance heard them coming but didn’t give himself the time to see. He lunged for Catherine, pulled her up and ran for the truck. Ben was braced against the top, firing at their pursuers. The moment Lance dumped her in the seat, Ben started for the car. Lance took the gun from him and fired, holding on to the car with his back to the open door. He fired until the culprits were out of sight.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” Catherine said.

  Lance shushed her and checked her ankle. Lifting up the trouser leg, he saw the mottled bruise and gently tested it. She cried out in pain.

  “It’s not broken but it looks dislocated. How the fuck did you manage to dislocate your ankle?” She could have fucking died, didn’t she realise that?

  “I’m a fucking klutz, that’s how. And, just so you know, you can’t dislocate your ankle. It’s sprained.” She had started by yelling back and was now whimpering.

  Seeing red streaks, he ripped her trousers from knee to ankle. Her knees were gashed and looked painful.

  “We need to go to a hospital.”

  “You think they don’t have any connection to London and Cyril? We don’t need a hospital but a medic. I can get you a medic.” Ben swerved a harsh right and carried on with his speeding.

  A medic would have to do. Lance would have tried twisting the foot back in place but he didn’t know how she’d cope with the pain. The ankle looked dislocated to him, but he wouldn’t risk it in case he hurt her more. Already her brow was sweaty and she looked on the verge of tears once again. Guilt at the way he’d spoken assailed him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  Lance moved her feet out of the way, sat down and rested her feet across his lap. “I shouldn’t have got you into this mess.”

  “You didn’t.” She touched a hand to his arm and he turned away. The guilt gripped him once more, reminding him that she didn’t know he was the one responsible for her sister’s death.

  Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he allowed his mind to drift. Ben would keep them safe and on the road. Lance’s head hurt and his heart ached and all he wanted to do was curl up beside this innocent woman and make all the bad shit go away.

  Chapter Six

  Catherine cried out as Lance and Ben pulled her from the car several hours later. Her arse hurt, her ankle throbbed and her entire body ached from the abuse and pain of the last twenty-four hours or so.

  If she had known following her sister would bring about this, she would personally travel back in
time and slap herself silly.

  Ben covered her mouth to muffle her exclamations. “We’ve got to be quiet and not alert the neighbours.”

  Catherine understood but that didn’t make the pain any less. Why was she cursed to be a fucking klutz at the most inappropriate moments? Her life was now a battle of one humiliation after another.

  Lance took her from Ben, and her relief was instant as his touch replaced the other man’s. Could it be possible to develop feelings for a man you’d only known for a short time, one who may or may not have fucked your sister?

  A woman cursed then whispered, “Be quiet.”

  Catherine looked to see a beautiful blonde peering out of the doorway, her robe parted to reveal a tempting body. She glanced at Lance to see if he would react to the woman but he seemed preoccupied with holding her. Morning was well and truly underway, but the woman appeared as though she’d just got out of bed.

  Ben followed the mystery woman, carrying the bags of guns and other shit they’d brought. Her heart squeezed tight as Lance moved through the doorway slowly, making sure not to knock her in any way.

  “I don’t want you to be in more pain.” He smiled down at her.

  Catherine couldn’t form words. She tried to smile back but her face ached more now from the slaps she’d received than last night when they’d actually happened.

  “Put her down there,” the woman said, pointing at a work table.

  The warmth of the room soothed Catherine, and she was thankful for a moment to simply relax. Lance laid her down and she tried to rest.

  He cupped her face and ran a finger along her cheek. “You shouldn’t be bruised.”

  Gulping past the need to lean into the touch, she pulled away and tried to get comfortable.

  “I’m sorry for invading you here, Beth,” Ben was apologising, and it was the first time she’d seen him looking unsure of himself.

  “Fuck off, Ben.” The woman spoke with all the malice of a woman scorned.

  Interesting…something must have happened between the two.

  “Now, let’s see about these wounds.” She sat next to her and started her inspection.

  “Dislocated, right?” Lance asked and Catherine couldn’t help but giggle.

  “No, not dislocated, just sprained but good.”

  Catherine stuck her tongue out.

  Beth bound the foot then gave her some pain pills. “I’ve got some spare crutches you can take. Try to keep your weight off it completely for a few days. It’s not as bad as it looks, but give me a call if you need me… What’s your name?” Beth asked as she worked on the rest of her.

  “Catherine.”

  “Are you one of Ben’s playthings?”

  Chuckling, Catherine shook her head. “I take it there was something between you two?”

  “No offence, but I’m not up for making friends. I don’t know who you are or anything. I was just making polite conversation.” Beth kept her head down.

  “And making sure the man you love isn’t screwing the female he shows up with.” Catherine got it and she understood, to a point. She’d had relationships through college, nothing permanent, but she related to the pain the woman was feeling. “Up until a few hours ago I didn’t know your friend or that man. It would seem we have a mutual acquaintance and enemy,” Catherine explained to her.

  “You don’t need to tell me.”

  “But I do. You may think I’m a slut, but it turns out we’re running from a man who’d sooner strip you apart than listen to your lies.”

  “This is about Cyril Woods, isn’t it?” Packing up her supplies, Beth glanced at Catherine. “Don’t look so surprised, honey. That bastard has touched people everywhere. I should know. Ben, I need to see you.”

  Catherine frowned, sure she’d missed something, but instead of dwelling on it she allowed the drugs to do their magic.

  Lance came and sat next to her. “We’ll be moving out shortly.”

  She decided not to get all that comfortable on the work table. “Where are we going this time?”

  “To a hotel. It’s morning, so we should have enough time to make it through and get settled to work out a plan before we leave.”

  “Why don’t I just give myself over to Cyril? It would all be over.” The tiredness was intense and she’d lost some of her fire to live. Running was such hard work.

  “No! We’re going to get through this.”

  “Look around you, Lance. Both of our sisters are dead… His hand touches everything. How can we hope to stop it?”

  “Because there are still people hoping to break the hold of the bastard once and for all. Please, Catherine, trust me.”

  Sighing, she lay back, closing her eyes for a second.

  I don’t want to think or feel. Just let go.

  * * * *

  “What the fuck is this about, Ben?” Elizabeth stormed into the kitchen, binning the rubbish from the wounds.

  “My friend needed help. I came to you knowing you’d help.”

  “Cut the bull shit. Why me?”

  Shaking his head, Ben refused to talk. This wasn’t about them. It never would be.

  “This about the girl you lost?”

  “Don’t, Eliza. I mean it.”

  “One moment I’m Beth, the next Eliza? You were once a straight-talker. Now why the fuck did you come to me?”

  Ben was beginning to wonder why. Elizabeth was the only woman to see him lose control, the one woman he would always feel guilty about.

  He was responsible for the death of the woman he’d loved, Lance’s younger sister, but with this woman he’d crushed her heart and shattered her soul that fateful day he’d taken her, used her and discarded her.

  The once beautiful, innocent and open Elizabeth Woods was now the hard-headed, hard-hearted woman of today.

  “I know you’d look after one of the women Cyril fucked with,” he answered.

  “Fuck you, Ben. You brought her here because you think I’ve got information on my father.”

  There was his shame. While the love of his life lay dead in a coffin, he’d been laying with this woman.

  He remembered Elizabeth from his bounty hunter days. A price had been targeted on her head as she was the only living daughter of a true crime lord. He’d been on that mission and had saved her from being killed. They’d been friends at one time but no more.

  Using her, fucking her, had been the biggest mistake of his life. The repercussions of that one night would stay with him forever.

  “We’re taking him down, Beth, whether you’ve got information or not.” Ben moved away from her, looking at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock, why aren’t you dressed?”

  “None of your business, hotshot. Stay out of my life. As for my dad, I’ve not heard from him since the last time you tried to take him out. Get your friends and get out of my house and out of my life!” she shouted.

  After all this time, she still couldn’t forgive him.

  “Mummy, why are you shouting?”

  Ben and Beth both turned towards the sound of the little boy.

  “Shit. Nothing, baby, come here.” Beth held out her arms and Ben stood still, stunned.

  Beth has a child…

  “Get out, Ben, and don’t come back.” She moved from him then and left him staring at them as they departed.

  His gut twisting, he watched the boy as she led him from the room. Something familiar struck him about the boy but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the day was uneventful. They packed their supplies up and left Beth and her boy to their own lives. Catherine smiled and stayed in the back seat with her leg propped up. If she made it out of this alive, she’d thank Beth properly.

  Ben had refused to stop anywhere until they were as far from Beth’s house as possible. By nightfall, Ben had pulled into a small motel stop and ordered them a couple of rooms. He gave Lance one set of keys and took the other.

  “You’re sharing with her.
I’ll stop by in an hour so we can talk business.” He didn’t give them time to speak as he left them there.

  They found their room was on the second floor. Thankfully the elevator was working. Catherine was stiff from the journey.

  The first thing to come into sight in their room was the large bed dominating the middle. Lance stared at the bed and then glanced her way. “Looks like we’re sharing tonight.”

  Catherine wondered what his problem was. “There’s enough bed there for the two of us. I won’t bite,” she tried to reassure him.

  “If you’re sure?”

  “Of course. What I’d like now more than anything is a wash.” She moved to the bathroom door. The room was small and poky.

  “I don’t think you can get your foot wet.”

  Catherine gazed at the inconvenience of her bound ankle and cursed her bad luck. It had been too long since her last wash and even she could smell the sour odour radiating off her.

  “Great. I’ll end up stinking like a cow’s field. All you’ll need to do is demand Cyril stand down is threaten to place me nearby.” Catherine knew she was being petty but she couldn’t help it. She desired a bath more than anything and she’d been told she couldn’t have one.

  Mortifying.

  “What if I help?”

  She glanced his way to see if she’d heard him correctly.

  “What?” she asked.

  “If I helped you to not get your foot wet.”

  “I’d be naked.” I should be repulsed by that notion, not turned on. Stop it, Catherine, you don’t know this man.

  “I’ll keep my eyes shut, I promise.”

  His offer—so tempting to take up. Why couldn’t she find a reasonable excuse to deny it? A proper woman would shut the door in his face, but then a proper woman hadn’t been faced with bullets, possible rape and everything under the fucking goddamn sun, let alone the devil incarnate. Catherine was sure any other girl would be freaking out about life at this time.