Lawson by Crystal Daniels
Lawson
Ten Minutes earlier
"Shit," I growl. I should have been back in town two hours ago, but the guys and I got hung up dealing with a skip case in another city. I didn't realize I'd left my phone inside the truck until I reached into my pocket for it to let Willow know I would be running late, so she could catch a ride with Genesis.
Rain begins pelting the windshield, and I have to turn the wipers on. To make matters worse, her last text stated she was walking to the hotel. Anger rises in my gut—a little toward Willow for not staying put in this storm but mostly with myself. Graystone Inn comes into view, and I whip into the parking lot, my headlights illuminating Willow's hotel room door.
I shut off the engine, step into the pouring rain, rush up the stairs leading to her room, taking two at a time, then knock on her door. "Willow." Getting no answer, I pound a little harder. "Will—" The door opens, and suddenly I'm staring down the barrel of a gun. The masked gunman forces me backward away from the room until my back hits the railing. "You knocked on the wrong motherfucking door, asshole," he growls.
The strong wind pushes the hotel door open, and my heart drops to my stomach when I notice Willow sprawled out on the bed, her face bloodied and her shirt ripped from her body. My eyes shift to the gunman, and my blood runs cold. He was about to…bile rises in my throat, knowing what the bastard would have done if I hadn't shown up. A rage like I've never felt before burns as it courses through my veins and my muscles tense. The guy presses the gun between my eyes then notices the shield I wear on a chain around my neck. "Well, look here. A fugitive recovery agent." He rips it from my neck and tosses it to the ground, then looks me up and down. "A wannabe cop and cowboy," he sneers. Lightning cracks overhead, and thunder rumbles as the storm intensifies. Then, he goes and knocks the cowboy hat off my head. "Got anything to say before I pull the trigger?"
I narrow my eyes. "Don't you think you should disengage the safety first?" I quip, which distracts the fucker for only a second. But a second is all I need to bring one hand up, grabbing the barrel, which forces the gun toward the sky and away from me, then grab his wrist and twist. The move loosens his hold, and the weapon falls to the ground. He throws a punch, his knuckles clipping me on the chin, then swings again. I dodge his second attempt at hitting my face and punch him in the side of his head. I go to pull my weapon, but the masked man tackles me to the ground. My back smacks hard against the concrete. His hand goes for my gun, and a struggle ensues.
"You're a dead man," the son of a bitch rages, getting in a jab to my ribs just before I roll him onto his back. I pound my fist into his face, which disorients him. I don't let up. I deliver blow after blow, feeling bones crunch as I beat his face.
"What in the Sam hell is going on?" I hear Walter yell from behind me. "Lawson, is that you?"
I'm still pounding my fists into the fuckers face as I hear Walter's steps getting closer. I rip the black mask from the man's head, exposing his identity and his jacked-up face. His nose is at an unnatural angle, missing teeth, and I'm positive his jaw is broken. I feel nothing as I gaze down at his empty stare and blank expression. The asshole is breathing heavily. I pull my gun and press it to his forehead. "I should kill you." My trigger finger twitches, and my jaw ticks.
"Fuck you," the bastard manages to croak, then spits at me.
I can feel Walter's presence at my back. "Lawson. You don't want to do that, son," Walter says.
I draw back and get to my feet. Walter looks at me. "You alright?" I give him a tight nod.
"On your fucking knees," I order Willow's attacker, and he slowly moves into the kneeling position. "Cross your ankles." I bark another command, and he complies.
My attention shifts toward the hotel room, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Walter looking in the same direction and hear the sharp breath he takes. "Willow."
As much as I'd like to exact my own brand of justice right now, Willow needs me more. "Walter, get the shotgun out of the back of my truck." Walter doesn't hesitate and quickly leaves to retrieve the weapon. He returns to my side a minute later. Walter inspects the shotgun, making sure it's loaded. I tell him, "If the son of a bitch moves, shoot him."
Willow's attacker snickers and looks at Walter. "You've got to be kidding me. What's an old man like you going to do?"
Walter, who is rain-soaked, raises the shotgun. "Sonny, boy, you're looking at a Marine. If you so much as flinch from a fart, I'll shoot you dead."
Knowing Walter has things covered, I rush into Willow's hotel room. "Jesus." My eyes travel to Willow's battered body, her face already bruised and swollen. Her shirt is missing and I find it lying on the floor beside the bed and quickly rush to cover her with the blanket. She groans as I pull her into my arms, but her eyes remain closed. "Wake up, beautiful. Open your eyes," I urge, brushing the hair from her face.
"Lawson?"
"I'm here, baby—I'm here. I've got you." Willow still won't open her eyes. This would have never happened if I'd been on time to pick her up from work. It's killing me on the inside seeing my woman like this. "I'm so fucking sorry." I pull the phone from my pocket and call 911.
"911, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher asks.
"I need an ambulance at Graystone Inn, room ten."
"Lawson?" she asks, and I finally recognize the dispatcher's voice as Julie Sumpter, who is a firefighter's wife.
"Yeah, Julie, it's me. I have a twenty-six-year-old female who has been assaulted."
"First responders are on their way. Is the victim conscious?" I can hear the concern in Julie's voice.
"In and out."
"Did you happen to get a look at her attacker?" I hear Julie typing away on her keyboard.
"Walter has the fucker at gunpoint."
"Be advised that the suspect is on sight, and Mr. Blank has him detained with a weapon," she relays to the officer en route. "Is the suspect armed?" Julie then asks me.
"He was," I state and hear sirens in the distance. "I'm going to hang up now. Thanks, Julie." As soon as I disconnect with 911, I call Ransom. He picks up on the second ring.
"What's up?"
"Willow was assaulted." The words taste bitter in my mouth. I look at Willow and swallow the lump of emotion in my throat. I hear Ransom talking to someone in the background and realize by the sharp "oh my god," it's Genesis.
"Is she okay?" he asks.
"She's breathing, but in and out of consciousness."
"You have the guy in custody?"
"Yeah."
"And he's alive?" Ransom asks.
"Unfortunately." Flashing lights flood the parking lot outside. "I have to go."
There's a slight pause before he says, "We'll meet you at the hospital."
Willow's eyesopen for a moment as they load her into the back of the ambulance, and they start checking her injuries. "Lawson?" Her voice is filled with panic and pain.
"I'm here." I keep hold of her hand.
"I didn't…Lawson, I wasn't strong enough. I tried." Willow begins sobbing, and I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and hold her tight. The moment the paramedic shuffles to the other side of the rig, I move closer to Willow and wipe the fallen tears from her cheek with the pad of my thumb.
"You're safe now," I say calmly, trying like hell to restrain the gamut of emotions running through me. Willow's eyes close, and she is out again.
"Masterson!" Sheriff West calls my name, and I turn my head. "Could I have a word?"
I shift my attention back to Willow and focus on the tears stuck on her lashes. Her battered face rips apart at my insides. I reluctantly let go of her hand and step out of the back of the ambulance. "Is the bastard talking?" I inquire, looking past West's shoulder at the patrol vehicle and staring at the sorry son of a bitch sitting in the back seat.
"He's not talking without a lawyer," West says. "How is she?"
"Not good," I say, feeling like someone has a hand wrapped around my throat.
"When she's better, I'll need a sworn statement, and I'll need one from you as well." Sheriff West clears his throat. "Looks like they're ready to go." He shakes my hand. "Take care of your woman."
I don't bother correcting his last comment. "Thanks." Turning, I climb back into the ambulance, and the doors close. I settle in at Willow's side, taking her hand in mine once again. Her eyes lift to mine as I run my palm over the top of her head. No words are spoken, yet the look she gives me says so much. She's thanking me, but I can't let the feeling of gratitude fully sink in because I blame myself for not protecting her from the assault ever taking place.
Less than thirty minutes later, the ambulance transporting Willow pulls up outside the county hospital, and I walk beside the gurney, holding her hand as they wheel her inside. "We can take it from here," a young nurse says.
"I'm not leaving her side," I grind out.
"Are you her husband?" she asks.
"No."
She shakes her head. "Then I'm sorry, you can't go back with her."
"Like hell, I won't," I bark, gaining the attention of the other staff members milling around.
"What's happening?" Willow asks, confused.
The nurse looks at Willow. "Are you comfortable with this man accompanying you to the exam room?" I know she's doing her job and most likely is aware of Willow's situation, but I'm not leaving her side. The nurse's eyes shift to my face, then back to Willow's.
I feel Willow squeeze my hand. "Lawson stays."
The nurse nods, giving Willow a soft smile. "Yes, ma'am." Entering through the double doors, they wheel Willow into a private exam room, and the same nurse steps to Willow's bedside. "I'm going to help you change into this hospital gown, then the doctor will be in to see you. Are you okay with that?" Willow nods, and the nurse carefully helps my woman change clothes.
It isn't long before Dr. Turco is walking into the room. She glances from Willow to me, then back to my woman. "Willow." She smiles, her eyes soft with compassion, and steps to the opposite side of Willow. "I'm Dr. Turco. Firstly, is there anything we can do for you to make you more comfortable?"
"Turn back time, so tonight never happened." Willow's words cut like a knife, and the wobble in her voice causes my chest to tighten.
Dr. Turco touches Willow's arm. "I truly wish I could do just that, Willow. I'm sure you've had enough people touching you tonight, but I need to examine your injuries." She waits for Willow to agree then begins her examination. Willow flinches when Dr. Turco presses on her side, then does the same when moving Willow's wrist. "Your wrist may be broken, but I think your ribs are only bruised. We'll X-ray everything to make sure." The doctor moves on to the small cut on Willow's left temple. "Doesn't require stitches. Some skin glue will fix that right up." Dr. Turco then says, "Willow, before I finish my examination, I need to ask…" She pauses and looks directly at Willow, before saying, "Did your attacker sexually assault you?" My free hand tightens into a fist, and I feel the rest of my body tense.
Fresh tears fall down her face, and I can't bear the pained look on her face. Willow inhales deep and releases a ragged breath. "I don’t remember. Could I get something to drink? My mouth is so dry, and the pain is unbearable."
"Sure. I'll have a nurse bring you some water. In the meantime, try and relax. Once we rule out a concussion, I can give you something for pain." The doctor gently touches Willow's arm. "I'd like to do a pelvic exam, just to rule out…."
Willow interrupts the doctor and rushes her words. "Please, don't say it. Go ahead and do the exam." Willow turns her face and closes her eyes. I pull a chair next to the bed and continue to hold her hand while the doctor examines her.
"Mrs. Keaton," Dr. Turco finishes, and Willow looks at her. "You did well. Someone should be here soon to take you to do the x-ray." Dr. Turco gives another soft look at Willow, then at me before exiting the room.
Before I can speak, someone knocks on the door, and the nurse from earlier walks in with some water for Willow. "There are some people in the waiting room inquiring about you, Mrs. Keaton." Willow looks at me.
"It's probably Ransom and Genesis. I called them while waiting for first responders to arrive."
"Are you allowed to bring them back?" Willow asks the nurse.
"Only for a few minutes. I'll go get them," she states, then leaves.
A couple of minutes later, Genesis rushes into the exam room, straight to Willow's side. Ransom strides in behind her, and with him, standing outside the doorway, is Gideon. "Willow." Genesis takes hold of Willow's free hand.
"I'm okay." Willow takes a shuddered breath and gives Genesis a weak smile.
"Baby, I need to talk with Ransom," I say to Willow.
Her eyes shift toward the door, looking at Ransom and Gideon, then back at me, yet she says nothing.
Leaving Willow with Genesis, I step outside the exam room, into the hallway with the guys, and pull the door halfway. "How's she doing?" Gideon asks.
"She is in a lot of pain." I let out a heavy breath and try letting go of the guilt eating at my insides.
"I gave West a call a few minutes ago," Ransom says, crossing his arms. "They ran the guy's prints. His name is Vincent Bozzella, from Chicago. The man has an extensive rap sheet. Prior offenses all linked to robberies and sexual assaults."
"Why the hell is a career criminal from Chicago in Graystone?" Gideon says what I was thinking.
Aside from the fact my woman was attacked tonight, something is not adding up. I look back, peering through the crack in the exam room door, my eyes settling on Willow, who has her eyes closed again. "I don't know about you two, but my instincts keep telling me Vincent Bozzella being in our town is not a random act of violence, and I mean to find out why."