Through the Darkness: Of Love and Loss Series Book One

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Two days later, Everett crouched beside Elyria, holding her hair out of her face while she hunched over the porcelain toilet and vomited. "You sure you don't want me to go fetch Doc?"

Elyria's whole body spasmed with another heave, emptying the contents of her stomach.

Everett winced. This latest bout of nausea had taken them both by surprise. Her appetite over the past two days had been nigh on voracious until fifteen minutes ago when they sat down for dinner.

She dry-heaved twice more, then slowly sank to her knees, bracing herself against the toilet bowl with shaky arms. "I'm fine, Everett." She swallowed and covered her mouth with a shaky hand.

Then, scrambling back to her knees with a groan, she clenched her eyes shut, dry heaved, and let out a careful breath once it passed.

Everett kissed her clammy brow and hurried to the kitchen to pour her a glass of water. But before he could return to the bathroom, Bertrand Wagner shouted from outside, "Hey, MONTEROSE."

Everett cursed. Casting a glance toward his front door, he decided to ignore the idiot and returned to the bathroom. Handing the glass of water to Elyria, he said, "Here you go, some water to rinse out your mouth."

She took a sip, swished it around, and then spit it into the toilet. "Who's outside?"

"MONTE. ROSE," Bert shouted again, "I WANNA talk TO YOU."

"Bert Wagner," Everett grumbled. "Don't worry. He'll give up soon enough." He watched her for a minute and turned a deaf ear toward the imbecile shouting outside. "You want me to help you up yet?"

"Yes, please. My knees feel bruised," she groaned. Everett helped her to her feet, then braced her when she wobbled. Swallowing convulsively, she gripped his hands at her waist and whispered, "I'm fine. I just... stood up too fast."

His brow lowered in concern. "You look green."

Her lips bent in a half-hearted attempt at a wry smile. "I feel green."

"FINE," Bert yelled, sounding angrier than before, "I'm done tryin ta reasonable with you."

Everett grimaced and glared over his shoulder in Bert's general direction, "You'd think he'd—"

The front window suddenly exploded. Everett covered Elyria with his body, folding himself around her as a large rock clunked and rolled to a stop near the kitchen table amid shards of glass.

"Come out and face me, YOU COWARD," Bert bellowed.

"Are you alright?" he gasped, pressing a kiss to her brow. His hands smoothed up and down her limbs, searching for wounds.

Elyria nodded, though her entire body trembled.

"Stay here," Everett growled, "I'm going to deal with him." Closing the bathroom door behind him, he marched to the front door and shouted, "WAGNER," as he flung the front door open.

Bertrand Wagner, his insolent face—complete with a left black eye and a broken nose from their fight two nights ago—stood at the base of the porch steps with a defiant glare. "You've ruined m'family. Stuffing yer nose where it don't b'long, d'mandin ought ya've no right." Suddenly, he produced a pistol and aimed.

Everett shouted an expletive and dove for Bert, tackling him to the frozen ground just as he fired. The shot went wild, pinging loudly against the wind vane perched on the north gable of his home.

The thick stench of sweat mixed with liquor emanating off Bert hit Everett in the face like a brick wall. It made him gag as they wrestled for control of the weapon.

Bert cackled and grunted, managing to cock and fire off another shot before Everett could stop him. The bullet passed so close that it burned his right cheek before embedding itself in the trunk of the one-hundred-foot pine tree near his house.

Once he managed to wrestle the pistol free, Everett knocked Bert upside the head with the butt of the weapon before tossing it out of reach.

Bert let loose a vile stream of cuss words and clutched at his cheek with his left hand while swinging at Everett's head with his right.

Everett ducked and landed another blow to Bert's opposite cheek. He followed it with a knee to the groin for good measure and a powerful jab to the ribs.

Howling in outrage, Bert wrapped both hands around Everett's throat and dug his thumbs into the soft tissue. Squeezing so hard a vein bulged on the side of his face, Bert choked him until Everett saw stars and flashes of light burst before his eyes.

Somehow, Everett managed to pry Bert's right hand away, breaking three of the man's fingers in the process. Everett coughed, gasping in lungfuls of precious air, and landed another solid blow to Bert's head to try to subdue him.

Cursing up a storm, Bert grabbed a fistful of snow near his left hip and threw it in Everett's face, then swung his left fist in a wild sucker punch. But Everett blocked the blow with his arm and wrenched Bert's wrist flat, pinning it to the ground with his right knee as he laid into him with heavy fists.

Bert howled, "Ya aren't fightin' fair," and raised his broken hand in a weak attempt to defend himself. But Everett's fist caught him in the jaw, snapping his head to the side and dazed him.

A sea of red clouded Everett's vision, though whether from rage or blood dripping in his eyes, he couldn't be sure. Bert's face blended and morphed into his loathsome father's, and vengeance cried out to be sated.

By the time he was through with the heinous bastard, he vowed, Bart would regret ever laying a hand on Carson—let alone showing up here to threaten his family.

"CAP," Marcus yelled. He ran up and pulled Everett off the man who'd quit fighting back, "Stop, STOP. You'll kill him."

Chest heaving, Everett pushed Marcus away and stumbled to his feet. He glared down at Bert, clenching his bruised hands into fists, and winced from the pain the action caused. "He deserves to die, Marcus."

Marcus stood between them, slightly crouched with his arms outstretched like he was dealing with a wild animal instead of a mere man. "I agree, but he isn't worth going to jail for, Cap."

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Everett glared at Bert, where he lay unconscious in the snow. He muttered a curse and ran a hand through his hair, striving for control. Marcus was right. The piece of scum wasn't worth going to jail over.

Marcus nodded. "You gave him a sound beating; now go catch your breath and simmer down." He caught and held Everett's gaze. Slowly, he straightened and shouted over his shoulder, "SALLY?"

"I'll go grab Sheriff Simmons," she said, standing several feet behind her husband. Her eyes were wide as saucers in her pretty heart-shaped face.

Marcus reached into his pocket and tossed her a set of keys. "Let him know we've got ourselves a bit of a problem with Bert."

Sally gave a jerky nod and ran to the truck. A minute later, she peeled out onto the road and raced toward the Sheriff's office.

Everett removed his broken glasses, wiped the blood out of his eyes, then put them back on and limped toward the shed at the side of his house. "I'm getting some rope."

"What for?" Marcus called out behind him, "You've knocked him clean out."

Everett turned, pointing to the man still lying in a bloody and unconscious heap. "Because if I can't kill him, I'm at least gonna hog tie him and make sure the oily good-for-nothing can't get away."