The Lair

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Carter

In a perfect world, I would have found Lily hunkered down for the night, somewhere safe and secure. Like an army compound surrounded by armed soldiers. And watched over by Iron Man and Thor.

But the last time I’d seen armed soldiers (via news footage, but still), they’d been running away from Ticks. And that guy who played Iron Man was worth like a gazillion dollars. I was pretty sure all the people rich enough to afford it had bailed on the United States and were off on some tropical island somewhere. Hell, it’s what I would have done if I’d had my own jet.

But this was Lily. She never played it safe. So instead of finding her locked in the freezer section like she promised me, I found her standing over the body of a dying Tick, contemplating how to cut off his head.

She turned when she heard me. Her face was pale and drawn. Her hands were shaking so badly the flashlight she held cast a trembling circle on the floor.

She dropped the stake from her other hand and launched herself into my arms. “God, it took you long enough to get here!”

I held her for a long moment. I wanted to kiss her so badly I was nearly shaking, but instead I pulled away enough to look down at her. “I thought we’d talked about you not risking your life. Especially not when there are Ticks out there.”

She looked at the dead Tick and gave a little shrug, looking diffident for a moment. Then she shrugged it off. “I couldn’t do it. I’m not even going to apologize. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure he couldn’t reach the baby. I had to protect her. Besides, I knew you were on your way and I wasn’t about to let you walk in with him wandering around.”

“Lily, we’ve been over this. You can’t—”

“I know I’m vulnerable, but a Tick can kill you just as easily as it can me.”

Even knowing she was right, I didn’t want to hear it. I blew out a breath but before I could talk, she continued.

“Besides, I had a choice. I could have waited for him to find me, or I could stand my ground. You’re the one who taught me to always stand your ground.”

She was right. I was the one who told her that. And I hated to have my own words thrown back at me, so I changed the subject.

“Leave me here to take care of this guy. Get the baby and get out to the car. We’ve got plenty of gas, we’re going to drive through the night.”

She nodded tearfully, and pulled away from me to head for the freezer at the back of the store. I could hear the baby’s plaintive cries even from here.

I was almost out the door when she called out, “You should check the back of the Cayenne. I think I saw an ax back there. You know, for . . .”

She let the words trail off with a curl of distaste to her lips. She had paused and turned back to face me.

Her distaste was mingled with amusement, like she was laughing at herself for not being tougher. I smiled, too, because that was so like her. And because just yesterday, I thought I might never see that smile again. Seeing it now made something in my chest ache. Maybe this was enough. Just this moment. Regardless of whether I could keep her safe forever. Maybe it was enough to keep her safe for now. For each day we had together.

Before the thought could even crystallize in my mind, shit went bad. I saw it in her expression before I heard the scraping of the Tick’s movements. I saw the flash of fear in her eyes. The mute terror as she fumbled for words that she couldn’t get out fast enough.

I whirled to see the Tick stumbling to his feet. He clutched a bloody arrow in either hand. Arrows he’d ripped from his own chest. The wounds gaped, pumping blood out onto the floor.

Lily screamed, the sound piercing the air even as I pulled the shotgun from the scabbard slung across my back. I fired at the guy, one round of buckshot and then another. It hardly seemed to faze him. He shambled forward a step and then another. My shotgun was nothing fancy. Its greatest virtue was simplicity, not speed, and it took me precious seconds to reload. If the Tick hadn’t been wounded, I’d be dead already. But the holes in his chest were pumping a lot of blood. Too bad he wouldn’t bleed out and just die peacefully. Instead, his extraordinary wounds just made him that much hungrier.

I needed a stake. Something thick and strong. Something he couldn’t pull out. Too bad I was fresh out.

“Carter!” Lily yelled.

I turned toward her and saw a stake—a whittled-down broomstick—in her hand. She tossed it underhanded toward me but she must have been nervous because the toss fell short by several feet. The Tick was on me by then. I grabbed the barrel of the shotgun in both hands and slammed the butt into his face. The heat of the metal seared my palms. I rammed it at him again, hearing a sickening crunch that didn’t even phase him. He automatically dropped the broken arrows and grabbed the shotgun, too, trying to pull it out of his way. He literally lifted me off my feet and flung me aside like a ragdoll. I was out of weapons and ideas.

Then, suddenly, the Tick froze. The shotgun clattered to the floor as he looked down. I followed his gaze and saw the pointy end of a stake sticking out of his chest.

He flailed mutely for a moment, then reached for the stake Lily had thrust through his heart from behind. He howled with rage, but his hands were too slippery from the blood to gain purchase on the shaft. Then he stumbled and whirled around. He fell to his knees and reared up one more time. At first I thought he was trying to get back up. Then I saw the arrow in his hand again. I was too far away to do anything about it. In one quick and deadly movement, he stabbed the bloodied arrow through Lily’s shoe.