Jill Sorenson - Set The Dark On Fire

Sniffling, she let his T-shirt absorb her tears. “Let’s go home.”

He patted her back. “No.”

She frowned up at him. “No?”

“I will take you to your aunt Espe.”

“I have an aunt Espe?”

“Sí . Your mother’s sister. Esperanza. She wrote me a letter a few months ago. You’ve never heard of her because she and your mother didn’t get along.”

“Where does she live?”

“LA.”

“Is she married?”

“No. She lives alone.”

“Have you met her?”

“Yes.”

“What is she like?”

“Different from your mother,” he said, choosing his words with care. “Quiet. Kind.”

Angel felt a flutter of nervous energy. “Well, I can’t just… barge in on her. What if she’s not home? What if she… doesn’t want me?”

He looked guilty. “She wants you. In her letter, she offered to put you in her extra room while you went to one of the local colleges. I didn’t think-” He broke off, swearing in Spanish. “I didn’t know you were so miserable.”

Her breath hitched painfully. “Oh, Papa. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I have her address in my truck.” He studied her in a way that made her sad and happy at the same time. “It is better if you go now.”

She knew what he meant. If she went back home first, Yoli would cry and cling to her legs and make it twice as difficult for her to leave. Her gaze skipped over to Dylan, who was watching her face, awaiting her decision.

“Yes,” she said, a strange lightness spreading through her chest. “I will go.”

Luke threw Garrett into the back of his squad car and got behind the wheel. “Trujillo,” he barked into the receiver as he pulled out of the driveway, tires squealing.

“Deputy Trujillo here, over.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

“On my way to back you up. Where the fuck are you, sir? Over.”

Luke met Garrett’s glowering visage through the rearview mirror. “Where does Betty live?” he asked, hitting the lights.

“Arroyo Drive,” he mumbled. “Number 331.”

Luke quickly entered it in the navigation system and turned his attention back to the CB. “Go to the Bighorn,” he told Clay. “I want you to pick up Shay.” When this request was met with silence, Luke realized he was ordering an officer who didn’t work for him to pick up his girlfriend at a café. “She might be in danger,” he added belatedly. “Over and out.”

A few minutes later, Clay communicated with him again. “The café is empty, Sheriff. No one here. And no answer at Shay’s house. Over.”

He swore offline, raking a hand through his hair. Betty lived on the outskirts of town, and although he was driving fast, he was still several miles away. “Meet me at 331 Arroyo Drive. And call for more backup. We have another lion situation.”

Signing off, he focused on the road in front of him, pressing down hard on the gas and taking the corners at a speed that was borderline suicidal. Garrett, handcuffed and unsecured in the backseat, went flying, slamming his head against the door.

Luke didn’t slow down.

After what seemed like an eternity, he was there, pulling into the driveway beside a new-model gray pickup, noting the custom bed-liner and a passel of dead rabbits as he drew Garrett’s revolver and exited the vehicle.

Somewhere close by, a lion roared, sending a hard chill down his spine. Abandoning stealth, Luke started flat-out running, both hands on his weapon and his eyes sharp. He went around the back of the house, drawn to the light, and was met with the goriest, most frightening scene he’d ever witnessed.

Two women lay in a pool of blood in the middle of a chain-link enclosure, like slave warriors in a gladiator arena. One was facedown, the same way Yesenia Montes had been, her lifeless arms flung out by her sides. The other was still moving, trying to creep backwards, her shoes slipping all over the wet ground.

Between them, the lion. A big fucking lion, jaws dripping blood. His muscles bunched in readiness, his odd green eyes alight with deadly intention as he leapt, sailing through the air in a flash of teeth and extended claws, graceful and terrifying, 250 pounds of poetry in motion.

Luke lifted his arm and aimed, squeezing off three shots in rapid succession. Hit mid-air, the lion’s body jerked from the impact. He fell as suddenly as he’d jumped, collapsing on top of the scrambling woman in a clumsy, boneless heap.

Hands shaking, because he’d never shot and killed a living thing before, Luke rushed forward, setting the gun on the ground and kneeling by the slain animal. It was unmoving, unseeing, unbreathing. Dead.

With a powerful heave, he shoved the lion’s body aside. Beneath it was Shay, her blue eyes wide with fright, face covered in blood.

“Oh my God,” he said, gathering her in his arms. She was hurt, maybe badly, but she was alive, and she was hugging him back. He knew he shouldn’t move her, but he was so relieved he couldn’t let her go. “I wasn’t sure it was you under there.”

She pressed her face to his neck and sobbed, clinging to him desperately, her entire body trembling. Or maybe that was his body. After a moment, he lifted his head to examine her, running his hands over her throat, searching for injuries. Her hair was hanging in ropy red strands down her back and her clothes were wet.

“Where did he get you?” he asked, tugging at the neck of her T-shirt.

“Nowhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine.” Her eyes darted to the other woman, who was clearly not fine.

Letting his emergency training take over, Luke went to Betty, assessing the damage. The wound on her nape was still seeping blood, and he found a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. She was alive.

In the near-distance, a police siren rang out and then quieted. His backup had arrived. Footsteps thundered along the side of the house.

“Holy Christ, what a mess.”

Luke turned to see Clay Trujillo standing at the entrance to the enclosure, flanked by two EMTs. Shay straightened self-consciously, running a trembling hand over her straggly hair. Both of the technicians kneeled next to Betty and started working to save her life. In a few moments, they had her body on a stretcher and were wheeling her away.

“I’m going to call Mike Shepherd,” Clay muttered, shaking his head. “This is the wildest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Luke turned his attention back to Shay, thinking she seemed a little shell-shocked, sitting quiet as a mouse next to the body of the fallen lion. He lifted her in his arms and carried her away from the grisly scene, setting her down on a garden bench near an outdoor light. Garrett was probably hollering in the back of the squad car and Luke had a lot of other responsibilities to attend to, but right now he needed to be with Shay.

“I should check on Fernando’s kids,” she said. “He and Dylan went looking for Angel, and I promised.”

“I’ll send someone over there in a minute,” he said, running his palm over her red-smeared cheek. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yes,” she whispered, inspecting her arms and legs. She was soaked in blood and covered with cat hair. “None of this is mine. But I must look a fright.”

He smiled. She was almost unrecognizable, and without a doubt the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. “You look beautiful,” he said, feeling his throat close up.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m glad you came.”

“So am I.”

Luke couldn’t bear to think about what would have happened if he’d arrived too late. The idea of losing her was excruciating. He’d finally found what he was looking for: permanence. And he’d figured out where he belonged: with Shay.