Cinder Road (Scorch Series Romance Thriller Book 2) Page 13

  The Sheriff nodded. “We’ll let him go outside of town.”

  “He must be unharmed.”

  “You have my word.”

  “I will have to watch to make sure you let him go.”

  “That can be arranged.” The Sheriff unlocked another door. “The doctor’s living quarters are up here.”

  Avital climbed the steps, the Sheriff following. The apartment was bare, with just a couch in the living room, no lamps or rugs, no art on the walls or pictures in frames. The bedroom held a queen-size mattress on the floor.

  “Our last doctor was a bachelor, but we can furnish this place any way you want. I think there are sheets.” He approached the closet and opened it. The dead doctor’s suits still hung on hangers—and the sight brought Dolf’s kiss in her closet back to Avital. Her face heated at the hot memory, and at the words she’d said after. This sick chapter in our lives is over.

  The feelings awoken by the danger they were in were only increasing, filling her with anguish at being separated from him.

  The Sheriff turned to her, holding folded sheets in his hands.

  Avital took the sheets from him, looking up at the man. Tension tightened the skin around his eyes. Deep frown lines bracketed his mouth. “Let Dolf go unharmed, and I’ll stay here and be your doctor. I promise.”

  Dearborn’s whole body relaxed. He didn’t want to be holding her prisoner. This was a man who was doing what he thought he needed to in order to keep his people safe. So, when she and Dolf escaped, he was sure to understand. “That’s wonderful, Dr. Luciano. I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

  But you will. She knew it in her bones. This man and his town were going to be sorry they’d messed with her and Dolf.

  Avital turned to the mattress and dropped the sheets on it, bending to make up the bed. “When will you let Dolf go?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Better to release him during daylight. I’ll have Molly bring you some dinner now, and we’ll get your brother-in-law going on his way first thing in the morning. I’m gonna lock you in the clinic building tonight, though. Sorry.”

  Avital nodded, stuffing one of the pillows into a case.

  After the sheriff left, Avital raced down to the pharmacy and found the pregnancy tests. She took two of them back upstairs with her. She’d taken pregnancy tests before, mostly in high school—she and Nando had been careful, but Avital’s cycle was irregular and they’d had more than one scare.

  Avital did her business and placed the plastic stick on the counter. She clasped her hands and watched the window—hoping, praying, a flurry of emotion whirling. She didn’t know what to ask for. She didn’t know what she wanted—but in a few moments, she’d have an answer either way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dolf

  Dolf woke in the dark, a cold, rough-grained surface beneath his cheek and under his hands. The density of the darkness and the muffled quality of sound told him he was in an enclosed space.

  He lay still, assessing his injuries, moving tentatively to check for anything broken. Nothing came back but the unwelcome throb of serious pain at the back of his head. He rolled onto his side, groaning, and reached a hand up to feel it. A sizeable swelling covered with the stiffness of dried blood met his probing fingers.

  A terrible thought stabbed him in the gut. Had Avital been the one to knock him on the head? Had she wanted to keep treating these people?

  No. After all they had been through together, she wouldn’t have done that to him. If she hadn’t hit him on the head, who had? A shaft of fear shot through him. Where was Avital? What was happening to her? And what about Slash? The old tom was a survivor. He’d probably be fine scavenging in the park until Dolf could escape and return for him, for Avital, for the Humvee.

  The Humvee. Another shaft of anxiety twisted his abdomen.

  That vehicle held everything he owned, everything he’d saved, everything he’d built up for the family’s survival. Even without the gold, it was a sturdy, valuable vehicle, useful in an apocalypse. Someone was going to steal it.

  Another thing he would have to retrieve when he escaped.

  He hoisted himself onto hands and knees, feeling along the cold floor. He reached the wall, his sensitive hands sliding up a steel surface. Moving slow, head swimming, Dolf explored the entire dimensions of his prison. He was in a metal shed.

  Dolf found the door’s opening and jiggled it. Of course, it was locked from the outside. But he could sure make some noise in a metal shed.

  “Help! Let me out of here!” Dolf bellowed as he pounded on the door. The loud clanging hurt his ears, and it got results.

  “Shut the hell up!” A man outside snarled.

  Dolf heard a rattle as the lock was undone. This was a chance to escape.

  The second the door began to open, Dolf rushed it, barreling into the man unlucky enough to be on the other side.

  They fell together, landing on soft ground. Dolf reared back and threw a hard fist into the man’s jaw, but two men grabbed Dolf by the arms, hauling him into the air and throwing him against the side of the shed. The metallic clang of the impact rang through Dolf’s already tender skull. He curled into a ball as, cursing, the two men rained blows down on him.

  The dim glow of a back porch light illuminated the yard. The house was three stories, white, and colonial. The men beating him wore police uniforms—Dolf recognized them from the park where they’d been handing out relief supplies.

  The man he’d punched slowly rose and dusted off his pants. He wore civilian clothes and a dark stare. He held up a hand and the two officers locked Dolf in place, facing him.

  Dolf spit blood onto neatly trimmed grass and a stone pathway leading to the shed.

  “I’d like to know what I’m being held for.” Laboring breaths made Dolf’s voice hardly more than a whisper. The man he knocked to the ground took a step closer and punched him in the gut, blasting the air out of Dolf’s lungs and swamping him in nausea.

  “That’s for being belligerent,” the man said, in a silky voice. “You’ve obviously been disturbing the peace.” He spoke to the men holding Dolf. “Give him a taste of his own medicine. And cuff him when you put him back in.” Dolf couldn’t see the man’s face, but he heard the menace in his voice as he leaned in close. “You’d better stay quiet or I’ll beat you myself.”

  The two beat Dolf, ripping off his shirt and using their fists, belts, and a savagery formed in desperate times. Afterward, they threw Dolf back into the shed and locked him in.

  Dolf was grateful for the darkness.

  He was grateful they’d left his pants on, and that his father’s lighter still weighed down his pocket.

  The men probably thought they’d taught him a lesson, but Dolf had grown up in Philly. At some point these men had been upright citizens, but Dolf had never played by the rules. The beating just hardened his resolve to make them pay.

  He couldn’t sleep. His bruises throbbed. With his hands cuffed behind him, no matter which way he turned or laid, the circulation soon cut off in his arms, waking him with painful tingling. When night receded enough to show a streak of light around the edges of the door, he heard voices and footsteps outside.

  The door screeched open, and the leader he’d punched last night was framed in the opening. The two uniformed officers he’d gotten to know picked him up by the arms.

  “Today’s your lucky day, asshole. You’re being turned loose,” the leader said. They hauled him out of the shed and threw him in the back of a pickup truck.

  What did this mean? Where was Avital? He bit his tongue to keep from asking questions he knew they wouldn’t answer. One of the men, carrying a shotgun, got in back with him for the short drive to the edge of town.

  “Thanks for visiting Newton! C’mon back soon!” The city’s exit was marked by a geranium-trimmed sign, twin to the one marking the entrance. A smooth, two-lane country road stretched off into the distance, passing through farms and cornfields. The officers pushed Dolf out of
the bed of the truck and stood him up. One of the men unlocked his cuffs. He rubbed his aching wrists as a big black Lincoln Continental drove up and parked beside the pickup. A man in a brown sheriff’s uniform got out of the front, and Avital got out of the back.

  She was wearing a fresh set of pale blue scrubs, as if she’d just come from the hospital, and her cabernet-colored hair was neatly braided. Her hands flew to her pale cheeks as she gazed at him. “What have you done to him? You animals!” She reached back inside the car and grabbed her black doctor’s bag. “I thought you said he was fine!” She yelled at the sheriff.

  “He was last night, besides that conk on the noggin,” the sheriff said.

  Avital ran over to Dolf and embraced him. “Oh, my God, Dolf.” She rested her head for a fleeting and incredible moment on his bare chest.

  Dolf’s arms came around her slowly, tentatively, as he was highly aware of their audience—but holding her in his arms, however briefly, was more sustaining than food to him. His strength and determination surged back. Whatever it took, he’d get her out of this spooky, evil town. But it had to look like they’d parted ways permanently. He lowered his head to rest on her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “I’m getting you out. No matter what. Never doubt it.”

  She stiffened as her small hand touched the dried blood on the back of his head. “Oh, Dolf. What did they do to you?”

  He knew he must look terrible. Blood from his head had trickled down his neck and dried over his black-and-blue torso. His dark cargo pants rode low on his hips since they’d taken his belt. He held up his left fist, and showed her his knuckles. “They missed a spot.”

  She took Dolf’s hand and kissed it. He felt the touch of her lips all the way to his toes.

  “I made a deal with the men of this town,” she said loudly, in her bossy doctor voice. “I’m going to stay here and take care of Newton’s health care. They need me, and I’ve agreed to be their doctor. But I want you to go and join your family out West.”

  Dolf’s chest tightened as his heart wrung out. He meant something to her, enough that she would trade herself for his liberty. No matter what she said, he knew that was the deal that had been struck.

  “You need to sit down and let me treat these injuries,” she fussed, digging in her bag.

  Dolf straightened to his full height, finding his pride, a reason to reject her publicly. “You traded my life for staying here, didn’t you?”

  Avital pulled out some ointment and bandages, her eyes down on her bag. “I want to stay. These people need help, and I’m going to help them. It’s what I do.”

  “You want to stay here? Stay here. I don’t need your B. You’ve made your choice. I hope it keeps you warm at night.” Dolf turned and walked down the road. He left her kneeling, hands still in the bag, eyes pleading for him to understand.

  And he did understand. Too well. That’s why he needed to leave with what dignity he had left, because he sure as hell had nothing else.

  Dolf strode away fast as he could, given his injuries. The memory of Avital’s head resting on his battered chest and the flowery scent of her shampoo lent him strength as he walked on bare feet across rough pavement. The sun was hot on his exposed body. He pushed his shoulders back in spite of his bruised ribs, holding his head high through dizziness.

  He was going to kill every one of the men who stood there, watching their little tableau. He’d marked their faces in his mind. The town of Newton was going to pay.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Avital

  The buzzing of bugs filled the air—they really were in the country here, where long grass lined the road and farmland stretched to the horizon. A bucolic setting, except for the uniformed police officers, staring at Dolf’s retreating back with smug smiles on their faces.

  Avital watched Dolf walk away with his shoulders squared—his body was beautiful in the morning sun, despite his wounds. A mottled cloud of bruising covered his stomach and ribs where they’d punched and kicked him. Welts on his back showed the marks of belts. His eyes and jaw had swelled from their fists, and blood from his head wound formed a line down his spine, disappearing into black cargo pants riding dangerously low on his lean hips.

  He wasn’t even limping. God, he was so strong.

  The sheriff touched Avital’s elbow and she jerked away from him.

  “We should get going. The clinic opens at nine.”

  “I thought I had autonomy over the clinic.”

  “Of course you do. But I assumed you’d want to keep regular hours.”

  Avital watched Dolf for another moment. Look back, let me see your face one more time. Just one more glance. I’ll tell you with my eyes that I want you to come back for me.

  But he didn’t turn. Not even once.

  His parting words resounded in her head: “You’ve made your choice. I hope it keeps you warm at night.”

  He didn’t mean it. He’d come back for her. But his words hurt anyway, burning her as if there was some truth there, lurking behind the lie. She’d made a choice, to honor Nando and not allow herself to even look at Dolf—but that choice hurt doubly, now that she might lose him.

  Avital returned to the Lincoln, climbing into the back seat. The sheriff followed, getting into his seat next to her. The driver turned the big, sleek vehicle back toward town.

  “I’m taking the morning off.” Since waking at dawn Avital had thrown up three times and her body trembled with exhaustion and hunger. She needed to eat and sleep before seeing patients. “I’m not feeling well after seeing what you did to my brother-in-law.”

  “Well, now, Deputy Stogwell tells me he got pugnacious last night and needed to be taken down a peg. But still, we want you to feel at home here.”

  Avital couldn’t suppress her hiccup of a laugh. The sheriff frowned. “Dr. Luciano, we really do want you to be happy.”

  She shook her head and looked out the window, grimacing as the Welcome to Newton sign whizzed by.

  The bedroom, which had belonged to the bachelor doctor, didn’t have curtains and despite the bright sun and the lumpy mattress on the floor, Avital slept hard and deep until ten thirty a.m.

  Pregnancy would do that to a person. The twin blue lines that had appeared on the test confirmed what Avital had suspected—new life was growing inside of her.

  Amidst all this death, treachery, and grief, life continued.

  That morning, when she’d seen Dolf, she almost blurted out, “I’m pregnant!” His swollen face, his expression soft as he looked at her, had almost dragged the truth out of her. But she’d held back.

  Dolf knowing she was pregnant wouldn’t help either of them right now.

  And she was afraid to tell him. Would he be angry? Turn “tin man” cold? Be incredibly happy, and take on the role of father? Of husband?

  She didn’t know what she wanted, and wasn’t ready to find out—and that audience of mockery hadn’t been the place to disclose such a tender secret.

  Avital brushed her teeth and dressed slowly. Looking in the bathroom mirror she was surprised to see how much she looked the same. While her face was thinner and her eyes sunken, nothing showed the huge transformation that the knowledge of what was inside her had wrought.

  Avital had helped kill a man on the road.

  She had saved lives, and she had lost many.

  And now she was going to be a mother.

  Avital touched her womb. “Don’t worry, baby. We’re going to be fine.” She glanced back at her reflection. She needed to take care of herself better, now. Her body was the vessel for her child, and she needed to treat it with respect.

  The receptionist whom Avital had met in the town square the day before was already in the clinic waiting for her when she got downstairs. The woman lit up with a big smile. “You’re here! I’m so excited to be working with you. Dr. Avital Luciano, right?”

  Avital nodded, incapable of faking enthusiasm.

  “I’m Erica. There are ten people waiting to see you. Sho
uld I show the first patient in?”

  “Sure.”

  A mother and her two-year-old entered. The little girl was crying pitifully on her mother’s shoulder.

  “Hi Sweetie,” Avital said. She checked the chart. “Sarah,” she glanced up at the mom. “And Rebecca.” She dropped her gaze to the girl again.

  The little girl turned her face and pressed it against her mother’s chest, hiding from Avital. “I think she has an ear infection,” Sarah said.

  Avital checked the child’s ears, making her scream louder. Avital’s heart squeezed at the sound and she had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling—pregnancy was making her so sensitive! Her emotions felt amplified, out of control. She wrote out a prescription for antibiotics. “Should clear right up. You can see Erica about getting the medication.”

  “Thank you so much, we’re very lucky to have you here,” Sarah said, as she rocked the little girl.

  Avital went to the cabinet and pulled out a lollipop from the stash she’d discovered the day before. Seeing it, the young girl sucked in a breath and reached out for the candy. “Here you are, honey. You’ll feel better soon.”

  They left and Avital barely had time to catch her breath before the next patient walked in—an elderly man who complained of chest pain.

  Did all of these people know she was a prisoner? Or was it just a few at the top?

  One patient followed another and Avital didn’t take a break until lunch. She ate a plate of food brought for her by Molly, the Sheriff’s wife.

  She’d met her the night before when she dropped off dinner. It was only about fifteen minutes after Avital confirmed her pregnancy and the woman’s kindness, even in the face of her captivity, had almost brought Avital to tears. Molly could really cook and Avital savored every bite of the chicken pot pie that was her lunch.

  Food was fuel and she needed it.

  She needed all her strength for when Dolf came for her. Hopefully Dolf would rest, recuperate from his wounds before returning. A stab of fear turned the chicken pot pie sour in her mouth. What if they killed him when he came back?