Promise Me Forever Page 4

  “Kid, under the sink there’s a bottle of Jim Beam. Get it for me.”

  Tate spun on his heel and left. I took a step closer to the bed, ready to tackle David if he put that trembling knife anywhere near Cat’s body.

  “What’s going on, old man?” I asked, my voice like death warmed over.

  He glanced up, sweat coating his upper lip. “Just give me a second. It’s been awhile.”

  I tilted my head, staring at him under the brim of my hat. “Not sure we’ve got a second but do what you’ve gotta do. You got a minute then I’m putting a gun to your head and making you.”

  He nodded nervously and fiddled with the medical supplies. Tate reappeared with the alcohol, almost tripping over his own feet. The bottle of booze was dusty and looked older than me. David grabbed it and unscrewed the top. Tossing the lid on the bed, he lifted the bottle and took a long drink. After half of it was gone, he offered it to me.

  “You’ll need it,” he said.

  I was tempted but I shook my head. “I need her more.”

  David eyed me then recapped the bottle. “Your call. But if you’re not gonna drink, I suggest you pray. It might be the only thing that gets you through this.”

  He put the whiskey bottle beside the bed and grabbed the rubbing alcohol. After dousing both of his hands with it, he set it aside and looked down at Cat.

  “Okay. Hold her, boys.”

  I tossed my hat to the corner of the room and grabbed her arms. Tate grabbed her ankles. She was unconscious but that changed when David started poking and prodding her with the paring knife. Blood poured from the half-inch hole in her side. She started screaming and fighting. It almost killed me, seeing her like that.

  She bowed off the bed, a loud wail escaping her, as David dug deeper into her side. He was sweating. Blood coated his thick fingers.

  Tate and I held her down, pushing her into the lumpy mattress. She thrashed about until I was afraid David would nick something vital. Tate was having a fit and I was about to lose it.

  “Do it,” David told me when she continued to fight.

  I didn’t want to but hell, I couldn’t take seeing her in agony any longer. When she screamed ‘please,’ it gutted me, leaving me raw. Saying a silent prayer for her to forgive me because I damn sure would never forgive myself, I whispered, ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ and cuffed her on the chin. It was just enough to knock her out but it still left a nasty bruise on her jaw. I had stared at it for days, sick with what I had done. Furious that I had caused all of it to happen to her in the first place. As I sat there beside her bed, day in and day out, I hated myself more and more.

  That’s where I was now. Sitting beside her bed with my head in my hands. I hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four. Cat had been out for a week. I had lost count of the days after three. David had gone looking for Gavin and Keely a few times. Each time he came back with no news. I left Cat only long enough to take care of personal business then I was back in the chair, silently begging her to wake up and return to me.

  “Anything?”

  I dropped my hands from my face and looked up at Tate as he walked in. He appeared scruffier than usual and dirtier than normal. There was dirt on his jacket and mud on his boots. I didn’t bother asking what the hell he had been doing. I didn’t have it in me to care.

  “She’s still burning up,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “Nothing’s changed.”

  Exhausted, I rubbed a hand down my face. I was worried about Gavin and Keely. Worried that the militia would find us. Worried about losing Cat.

  I had cleaned her up, wiping away the blood. The water in the bowl had been red. My hands were still stained with it. She was clean but I was far from it. My clothes were the same ones I had been wearing for days, stiff with dried blood.

  I felt Tate staring at me warily. I knew what he was thinking. He thought I had lost my fuckin’ mind. After David got the bullet out of Cat’s chest and dropped it on the quilt, I had stormed from the room and raised bloody hell. I had cussed and thrown things. Had a real tantrum that my mom and dad would have been ashamed of. Cat had been shot. She had jumped in front of a bullet for me. Goddamn it. For me. I had led her to that town. I had made love to her in that hellhole. I had lost my head and pulled a gun on that asshole, ready to deal out some retribution for Cat and Keely. Instead, I gave her a bullet and a fight for her life.

  I started taking out my frustration and fear on Tate and David. Day in and day out for the past week, I snapped at them whenever they tried talking to me. I roared at them when they tried to get me to leave Cat’s side. I wasn’t that calm, gentle cowboy that she had met years ago. I was mean and angry. So when Tate started talking, I tuned him out until his words got through to me.

  “So I got as close as I could to the town. There’s no way I can get in and get our supplies and I didn’t see any sign of Gavin or Keely,” he said, sounding older than his fifteen years. “I’ll try again soon.”

  I snapped my head up, glaring at him. “Who the hell said you could go near town?”

  He ground his teeth, always ready with an attitude. “No one, but I ain’t looking for permission. I’ll do what I want and what I want to do is find Keely.”

  I shot to my feet. I wasn’t one to lose a handle on my temper, but something happened to me as I watched Cat get shot. Something inside me just…

  Tore apart.

  I got in Tate’s face. He was tall but I was taller. I had seen more and done more. He might be a badass kid but I was a deadly man.

  “You don’t think I’m worried about my sister too? You don’t think I want to climb in that truck and haul ass out of here to find her? Fuck kid, I do, but I’m not moving until Cat wakes up and I sure as hell don’t need you with a bullet in your side too. So don’t walk out that damn door without asking me,” I said in a controlled voice that was laced with fury. “In fact, don’t even take a leak without checking with me first. Got it?”

  Tate thrust his chin up. So much like his sister that I felt a punch to my gut.

  “Who died and made you boss?” he snapped, defiant little shit.

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized what he had said. His tanned face went white. His gaze swung to Cat. “Shit,” he croaked.

  I suddenly felt guilty as hell. The kid had lost his older brother, Nathan, and he had never had much of a father or mother to speak of, according to Cat. That left only one person to boss him around and God only knew if she would survive or not.

  I let out a breath and ran my fingers through my hair. “Sorry, kid. Just…just don’t wander off, okay?”

  Tate gave me a guilty look from behind his long brown hair. “Yeah, okay.”

  We stood there a minute, not talking. Worried. Exhausted. I rubbed a hand over my eyes, trying to keep myself alert.

  “You look like shit. Go to sleep. I’m gonna go talk to the preacher,” Tate said, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

  I nodded and went back to my chair as he left. Resting my elbows on the arms, I slouched down and ran my fingers over my brow, barely holding onto my sanity. I wanted to throw the chair across the room and ram my fist through the window. I wanted to get in the truck and race back to Hilltop, destroy the men who had done this to Cat. Instead, I stayed in the chair and stared at her.

  Minutes past. Dark thoughts swirled in my mind the longer I sat there. I was sorry for not protecting her. Sorry for taking her to Hilltop. Sorry for loving her and getting her in this mess. She deserved better than a bullet wound and a lumpy bed in a two-room cabin. She deserved better than me.

  My helplessness turned to fury. It grew and churned in me. It ate away at that place where I had once been easygoing and calm. Cat was unconscious because of me. She was hurt because of me. The thought made me angrier than ever before.

  That’s when I lost it.

  I shot to my feet and started pacing beside the bed. My strides were furious. My fists clenched and unclenched.

/>   “Damn you, Cat,” I muttered between tightly gritted teeth. “Wake up. Wake up now and tell me that you hate me. That’s an order.”

  She didn’t move and I grew more furious. At her. At me. At this goddamn world.

  “You’re a spoiled, little brat that always gets her way. Well, princess, you got your way. You saved me. You jumped in front of that fuckin’ bullet and saved my life. You got what you wanted. Now wake the hell up so I can get what I want!” I shouted at her. “Now, damn you! Wake up!”

  Still nothing. She lay still and quiet. Her eyes didn’t open and glare at me. Her eyebrows didn’t arch haughtily.

  I stood over her and clenched my fists, my chest rising and falling with rage. “Fight, Cat,” I ground out between a tightly clenched jaw. “Fight now.”

  When she stayed still, all the anger left me in a whoosh. My exhaustion caught up to me. I fell into the chair and put my face in my hands.

  “Don’t leave me, Cat,” I whispered in a broken voice. “Please don’t leave me.”

  Anger and grief suffocated me.

  “Fuck,” I said hoarsely as my hands started shaking.

  At that moment, I started making deals with God. I would die in her place. I would walk into Hilltop and surrender myself to Frankie and his men. I would let them tear me apart limb by limb and not lift a hand.

  I would stop loving her if He only returned her to me.

  As soon as I swore the last one, I heard movement from the bed.

  “Cash?”

  My heart stopped. I lifted my head.

  Cat was staring back at me.

  Chapter Six

  Cat

  He was sitting beside my bed, looking larger than life. His elbows were on his knees and his legs were spread wide. Carefully controlled power radiated from him, leashed and barely contained.

  He was holding his head in his hands. As I watched, his fingers plunged violently into his hair. I wanted to touch his strong jaw and firm lips. Run my fingers over the whiskers that grew near them. I wanted to prove that he was real and I hadn’t died and gone to heaven.

  The idea of pearly white gates almost made me scoff. I would go to hell when I died, I was sure of it. The devil would be waiting for me at the fiery entrance and welcome me with open arms. I had done some terrible things in my life and never cared if they were right or wrong. Lying. Drinking. Fucking. Swearing. Men swore I had no soul. My grandmother deemed that hell was the only place I would go. I knew what eternity had in store for me and it wasn’t halos and golden wings. It was fire and brimstone.

  So if I were dead, I wouldn’t see Cash. He was the white knight to my black soul. He would go to heaven while I was on a one-way path to hell. It must mean I was very much alive.

  I laid still a moment, assessing my surroundings. The hum of a heater came from somewhere on the floor, making the room toasty warm. The bed I was on was soft and covered with a faded blanket, the edge pulled up around my chin.

  I moved then grimaced. My side felt like a white-hot poker had been stabbed in me repeatedly. I felt the pain down to my marrow and in every muscle and fiber of my body. It was agonizing. The kind of hurt that made you sick to your stomach.

  I bit my lips to keep from crying out and curled my fingers into the sheet. Gripping the threadbare material hard, I whispered the first word that came to me.

  “Cash.”

  He jerked his head up, his gray eyes going wide.

  “Cat?”

  He dropped his hands between his knees. His hair was spiked and standing up in all different directions. There were dark circles under his eyes and worry in his storm-colored gaze. Despite it all, he had never looked so good.

  I smiled weakly and said the second thing that came to me.

  “Cowboy.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was all I could gather enough energy to say.

  He didn’t smile. I didn’t even get one little quirk of his mouth. His eyes went from light to dark in seconds.

  “God, Cat.”

  Hearing him say my name never sounded so sweet. His voice could soothe me. Make me come one second and center me in reality the next. I needed to hear it like I needed air to breathe.

  “Say my name again,” I whispered. “Please.”

  He stood up slowly, rising over my bed. He was large and lean, towering over me like some kind of powerful warrior out of a video game that Keely had probably played. He put a hand on either side of me and leaned down.

  “I’ll say it a hundred times if you want me to,” he rasped, so close to me I could see the gray specks in his irises. “Cat.”

  “Again,” I demanded, my voice hoarse and scratchy from misuse.

  His gaze dropped down to my lips. “Cat.”

  I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me.

  “You’re real. You’re real,” I repeated against the warm skin of his throat.

  He ran his hands up my arms and to my back, careful of the bandage on my side.

  “I’m real,” he muttered, his lips against my hair. “And I’m holding you.”

  His fingers burned my skin and slid over me with possession. One of them moved to grasp the back of my neck and the other traveled across my back. They were gentle. Strong. Burying under my matted hair. Touching on the edge of my jaw. Tracing the top of my spine. Proving I was alive.

  I tried to look around as he held me, afraid we were still in Hilltop.

  “Did we get out? Where are we?” I whispered with panic, afraid Frankie or Paul would appear.

  Cash’s voice was deep. Calming. “We’re in a cabin, safe for now.”

  I grasped at his jacket frantically. “Where’s Tate and Keely? Did they make it out too?”

  Cash held me tighter. “Tate’s here. Keely’s with Gavin. He got her out but we haven’t seen them since.”

  Tears fell down my cheeks as I buried my face in his neck. The slight movement sent pain shooting through me.

  I grasped him tighter as waves of agony hit me. My abdomen felt like spikes were being driven into it. My breath caught when it grew worse and worse. Feeling something warm on my stomach, I pulled away and looked down.

  I was wearing a shirt but it had ridden up underneath my breasts, leaving the white bandage wrapped around my middle exposed. Blood was spreading on it, turning the bleached white a bright red.

  The pain became excruciating. Weakness made me go limp. The little bit of energy I had disappeared. I couldn’t fight it any longer. My arms dropped away from Cash and my eyes drifted closed. I started to lose consciousness when a harsh voice brought me back.

  “No!” Cash swore with panic.

  He lowered me back to the bed quickly and reached for the bandage on my side. When he peeled back the edge, blood started running down my body.

  “David! Get in here!” he shouted. “Hurry!”

  I flinched when he pressed something to the wound. It sent a stream of fire through me. I was losing consciousness fast but I fought it. Just like Luke told me to do.

  I heard the thump of heavy boots then the sound of voices in the room. One was angry, the other calm. Hands touched me, poking at the wound and wiping blood away.

  “I did this,” Cash spit angrily. “She was okay until I touched her and held her. Shit, what have I done?”

  “It’s okay, son,” a calm, gravelly voice responded. “She’s lost a lot of blood and she’s burning up with fever. Give her time. She’s getting better. She’s just weak.”

  “No!” The word was slashed out like a weapon, cutting through the air. “It’s my fault! I never should have touched her!”

  There was a shift in the air. I felt something fly by. It hit the wall with a bang and shattered. Someone roared. Another person yelled.

  I forced my eyes open. Cash was standing over me, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell, drawing in quick bursts of air. His fists were clenched. The look in his eyes was fierce and wild, the bunching of his biceps violent.

  He had
been the one to throw something. It was in the way he held himself. In the way he stared across the room. Fury rolled off him in waves.

  “Fuck, this is my fault,” he said, his voice broken. “I never should have loved her.”

  There was so much anguish and self-hate in his voice that my heart cracked. My eyes closed. A single tear escaped from one of them.

  Then the darkness claimed me again.

  Chapter Seven

  Cash

  I stared down at Cat. My blood ran cold. Seconds ago, I had held her and whispered her name. Now I was watching her bleed and lose consciousness.

  My throat closed up. My body went stiff. I went cold and hot at the same time. It was my fault she was in pain. My fault that she was suffering. I wanted to punch something or someone. I was so fucked up on the inside that I didn’t know which way was up or down. I wanted to drop to my knees and touch her again. Whisper her name and feel her breath against my cheek. But something inside me shut down.

  “She’s okay, son. Just let her rest,” David said quietly, putting a hand on my arm.

  I fought the urge to twist it off. Instead, I lifted my gaze to his.

  “I’m not your son,” I spit.

  Grabbing my cowboy hat from the corner of the room, I glared at him as I stalked past. Reverend or not, the man could go to hell.

  Tate was rushing into the room as I was leaving.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes wide with fear as they went from me to David.

  “Watch your sister,” I snapped. “Don’t leave her side.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I cut my eyes over at him. “To track my sister and Gavin.”

  He took a step closer. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Over my dead body.” I pointed at the bed. “Get your ass over there and don’t leave Cat’s side.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “I said you ain’t the boss.”

  I took a step closer to him and lowered my voice. “You leave her side or follow me, I’ll rip you a new one, Tate. Watch her!” I barked, thrusting my finger at the bed.