Still dizzy and bleeding, Ava wheeled around instantly. She saw Spurlock in two forms—his true self and as a blurred copy because of the dizziness. She decided to aim for the center and hit whatever she could. She doled out two rapid-fire jabs, the first of which caught him right in the nose. The second clipped the side of his head and spun him around. He fell into the bar and even then, Ava did not let up.
Still roaring, she took two large strides over to the bar. This time it was Ava that grabbed Spurlock by the hair. She lifted his head up and then slammed it hard into the desk. The makeshift bar rattled and shook, sending two glasses to the floor where they shattered. He rebounded fiercely, his right hand reaching for her purse. Ava, driven by an anger and hatred she’d never experienced before, drove a knee up into Spurlock’s lower back. As he was sent forward again, she brought her right elbow down on the wrist that was still reaching for her purse.
She felt his wrist break beneath the blow. When Spurlock screamed out, Ava head footfalls behind her. She turned and saw one of the men rushing forward. But when he saw the state of her face, he stopped and grimaced. She didn’t blame him. She could feel her head radiating pain, could feel and now even smell the blood coursing down her face, and the sting of alcohol among her injuries. Her ribs ached, too, but they were a minor pain when compared to the hell inside her head.
The man’s interruption gave Spurlock just enough time. He grabbed her purse and drew out the .38 with his left hand. Ava knew it was a senseless thing to do, but she lowered herself into a tackle position and charged. She’d get shot, but maybe the movement would spare her head or anything vital.
She charged and when the shot came, she was sure she was dead.
Her body slammed into Spurlock and they both crashed to the floor in front of the bar. She lay there, on top of him for a moment, trying to figure out where she’d been shot. Her head was still a world of pain, but she couldn’t feel anything else that—
A man’s voice broke her train of thought. It was a familiar voice and for a moment, she was sure shehadbeen shot and was hallucinating during her final living moments.
“No one move,” this male voice said. “You move, you get shot.”
Groaning, Ava rolled away from Spurlock. In doing so, she saw the large, gaping hole high on the right side of his stomach. He was gasping for breath and blinking rapidly at the ceiling.
Ava looked towards the voice and nearly started to weep.
Frank Wimbly stood just inside the door with his gun drawn. He was moving it slowly around the room, his eyes frantically moving back and forth between the patrons and Ava.
“Are you okay?” he asked her. “Christ, he did a number on you…”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. She slowly got to her feet, having to use the makeshift bar for support. Her legs were indeed a bit wobbly but she managed to take the gun from the floor where Spurlock had dropped it.
“How’d you…?” she started to ask.
“You got cuffs?” Frank asked. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was on the verge of crying.
“Yeah,” Ava said. Her voice sounded distant, far away. Maybe drowned out by the roaring waves of pain in her head. “I’ve got c…”
Her legs suddenly gave out. She was aware of Frank calling her name, but everything went black. She was alarmed at firstbut then, as the darkness washed over her, she realized that it was at least overtaking the pain in her head. And in that moment, that was the only thing she cared about.
She fell to the floor and in her last moments before going under, she heard Frank speaking again. She focused on that—on Frank’s voice. In the end, he’d been there for her and that made it a bit easier to give in to that waiting darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ava opened her eyes and saw roses.
She was laying on her back with something soft beneath her. The roses were directly in front of her, as if greeting her back to the world of the awake and living. Her head was itching fiercely and when she lifted her hand to scratch it, she stopped short. There were stitches along the side of her head and she could feel swelling and tenderness there.
She remembered the glass being broken across her head, could remember Spurlock kicking her, could remember Frank coming in through—
“Mommy?”
She turned her head to the right and saw Jeffrey sitting in a chair. Seeing the chair, the featureless walls, and adding in the roses, she started to understand where she was. A hospital. Apparently, she’d blacked out in the Ash Lodge and—
What about Spurlock?she wondered, her heart already thrumming with panic and fear.What about Frank?
But for now, she had to remain clam. And Jeffrey being right there beside her helped. “Hey, kiddo,” she said. She sat up, her ribs aching a bit and her head feeling like a concrete block. She got a better view of the very plain room and was reminded of why she loathed hospitals.
“Can I…can I hug you?” he asked.
“You’d better.”
He came to her side and placed his arms around her. It did hurt her ribs a bit, but it was worth it.
“You’re not here all alone, are you?” she asked.