Infinitely by Cheryl McIntyre
I look up at Jax. His face is unusually pale. His hands are fisted at his sides. “What do we do?” I ask shakily.
“They threw them in the barn.” He takes my hand and pulls me along. My heart stammers when I reorient myself, my gaze finding the barn. Threw them? Like they were nothing more than trash. Just tossed them in to burn.
I think I’m going to throw up.
The barn’s ablaze. The heat is a being all its own. So hot my skin tingles with pain. Three motionless bodies lie face down just inside. The wood, stains, and paints the Amoses use for their furniture work act as an accelerant, feeding the fire.
“I’m going to see if they’re alive. Stay here.” Jax hesitates just before the doorway, but only for a moment. Sliding to his knees, he places two fingers to Axel’s throat feeling for a pulse. He leans over placing an ear to his chest. When he crawls over the body, I can see blood on the side of his face. I shiver, despite the raging heat. Axel. The giant, intimidating man was one of the nicest people I have ever known. Why would anybody do this to him? How could they do this to him? He didn’t deserve this.
Next is Flynn. Again, two fingers to the throat, ear to the chest. Tears stream down my face as Jax steps over Flynn to check his mom.
Don’t step over him. No. No. No. This can’t be happening.
Every kiss we shared, every touch, every smile—it all comes rushing back. Every laugh, every dance, every argument.
Please let this be a dream. Just a nightmare.
Just a horrible nightmare.
I realize I’m shaking my head from side to side and try to stop, but the urge is too strong. Not Flynn. Not Flynn. Please, not Flynn.
“Briar, I need your help. Get his feet, quick.”
Somehow my legs carry me forward. His feet? “Is he…?” I can’t say it.
Jax is standing over an unconscious Flynn. He shakes his head. “He’s alive.”
I snap out of it and grip the hems of his jeans. I work in fields nearly every day, I shovel out the horse stalls and lift bales of hay. I’m strong despite my size. But Flynn is so big, I barely get his long legs off the ground. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s enough. Jaxon pivots, backing out of the barn, and we don’t stop until we hit the road.
Grace is tied to a tree behind a network of bushes. Jax brings her over and we manage to slide Flynn sideways over the saddle on his stomach. His body is wet with sweat, soaking through his clothes and he’s smeared with blood and soot. He doesn’t even look like himself.
“I don’t know what to do now,” Jax pants. “I’m not sure which direction they turned.”
“We have to get his parents,” I rasp.
“They’re dead, Briar.”
I choke back more bile. “We can’t leave them to burn, Jax. We can’t…” Images of dinners spent with this family, helping Flynn’s mom in the kitchen, flash through my mind like streaks of lightning. The times Axel took me into the barn and tried his damndest to teach me how to carve a piece of wood. “It’s not right.”
Jaxon grabs my arms. “Bri, we can’t. The barn’s ready to come down and we need to help Flynn. He still has a chance.”
I nod. My chest feels tight. This is so wrong. So horribly wrong. I cover my face as I say the next words. “It’s closer to go back to the store.” My voice cracks. I can’t stop shaking.
“We won’t be helping him at all, or ourselves, if those guys are in town.”
We have to make a decision and quickly. The wrong choice could be deadly, for all of us. I don’t like having this responsibility. It terrifies me. What if I make a mistake? Flynn makes a gurgling sound that chills me to my core. There’s no more time.
“Go into town,” I say. “Get help. I’ll take him to my house. My parents will know what to do.”
“What if they went that way? They’ll see you.”
“I’ll stay off the road. Just hurry.” Now that I know what I have to do, I don’t think. I just do it. I take Grace’s reins and lead her into the tall grass. It’s almost high enough to cover Flynn, draped limply over the saddle. I tug, urging my dad’s horse forward as I begin to run. Her slow trot is still much quicker than I can keep up with, but I grip the leather straps tightly, pumping my legs to stay beside her. Flynn’s head bobs with each of Grace’s steps.
The shame I feel is nearly overwhelming. How could we leave Flynn’s parents to burn? I push it down and run faster. We can still save him. I repeat it in my head like a mantra. We can still save Flynn.
As soon as I see our driveway, I cry out in relief as I smack Grace on the ass. She knows the way home and will move quicker without me.
12
Benji
I feel like shit for the way I acted with Briar. I wish I could tell her everything, make her understand. It’s not her. It’s me. It’s the loser I’ve become. It’s the danger I pose.
I need to be free of all this—of the drugs and of Delphi—before it’s safe enough to be near her. She deserves so much more than I can give her right now. Keeping my distance keeps her safe. If Delphi knew about her—knew how much I care about her—he’d hurt her to get to me. I can’t let that happen, no matter how hard it is to stay away.
Jaxon bursts through the doors, scaring the living shit out of me. But I don’t know real fear until I notice the blood on the side of his face, adhering his hair to his temple. My eyes trail down silently, taking in more blood, dirt, and soot. I can smell the smoke rolling off him.
Maybe two seconds pass before I’m throwing myself over the counter. “What happened?” I grip his arm, tugging him toward me. I run my fingertips across his hairline, searching for the wound.
“It’s not mine,” he pants.
And then my vision blurs.
No.
NO.
“Where is she?” I croak.
He shakes his head and I release him. He stumbles back a step. “She’s okay. I sent her back to her house.” And then he just stops. His eyes gloss with unshed tears as he shakes his head slowly, his lips pressing together tightly.
“What. Happened.”
“Delphi’s guys,” he murmurs. My blood runs cold, like ice crystals through my veins. “It had to be them. They shot Flynn and killed his parents.” The last word barely makes it out of his mouth before he’s sobbing. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen my brother cry. And most of those were from childhood. I don’t think he even cried for our mother.
“They’re dead, Benji. Because of us.”
No. Because of me. This is all me. This is my fault.
“Is Flynn…?” I can’t bring myself to say it.
“He’s alive. For now. Briar’s taking him back to her house.” He scrubs his palms across his face, unknowingly smearing red over his skin.
“What?” It’s barely more than a whisper.
“I didn’t know what else to do…” He looks at me helplessly, his eyes wide. Scared.
That’s it. She’s involved. This is exactly what I was so afraid of.
Payton pushes a cart down the aisle in our direction and it snaps me out of my thoughts. “There’s been an accident,” I tell her. “Jax and I need to go. Stay here and keep your mouth shut and eyes open.”
She does a double take after noticing Jax’s appearance. “Oh, my God. What’s going on?”
“I’m fine,” he reassures her.
“Jax?” She takes a step toward him, her hands reaching for him.
“I’m okay. I swear. It’s Flynn’s.”
I turn away and head for the first aid aisle. Why would Delphi go after Flynn? I haven’t seen him since I came back. I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on my current task. Two rows over I hear Payton say, “It’s happening, isn’t it?”
Jaxon doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. She knows. We all know.
Delphi found us.
13
Briar
I scream for Dad as loud as I can and force myself to keep running.
Mom comes out of the hou
Mom stops Grace, her face masked with fear. Dad doesn’t stop until we reach each other. He pulls me into his arms as I gasp for air. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“Flynn,” I cry. “They shot him. They shot him, Dad.”
He pushes me back, but doesn’t let go of me. His eyes trail from my head to my toes. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Some men. Four of them. They shot them all.” My voice rises with hysteria and I feel fresh tears pool in my eyes. “Dad, they were cops.”
He grips my shoulders painfully and pulls me to his chest once again, stroking my hair. “Okay. It’s okay.” Finally he releases me and he and Mom attempt to get Flynn into the house.
“Briar, go hose Grace down,” Dad instructs. “Get rid of any traces of blood.”
I do as he says, even though I want to stay with Flynn. Removing the bags of groceries, I place them all into a basket and begin spraying the blood off of Grace as quickly as possible. Just as I finish, King trots into the barn as if nothing ever happened. I glare at him for several heartbeats then spray him down as well to get rid of the dark soot.
Bags in hand, I go inside, afraid of what I’ll find. Mom helps me with the groceries, throwing everything into the sink to be rinsed. “How is he?” I ask.
Jaxon and Benji burst through the door before she has a chance to answer me. I jump half my height. Benji pauses when he sees me, golden eyes moving over me like Dad’s did before.
“We got some bandages and pain killers, some alcohol. I don’t know—there’s a bunch of shit here.” Jax thrusts the bags at my mom.
“I can help,” Benji says.
“Wait a minute,” Dad commands from the doorway. “Everybody calm down. Flynn needs a doctor—”
“You can’t take him to the hospital,” Benji insists. “Delphi has cops on his payroll. We go walking into a hospital, cops will get called.”
Dad shakes his head slowly. “I know these guys, Benji. I went to school with half the guys on the force. These are good men. Friends.”
“I’ve seen good men do horrible things,” Benji says softly. “If Delphi can’t buy you, he’ll use whatever he can against you.”
Who the hell is Delphi? Is he the one? The guy that shot Flynn?
“Do we even know it was our officers?” Mom asks. “I just can’t see them doing something like this.”
“Delphi always comes prepared. Do you really want to take that chance?”
Mom’s gaze flicks to Dad, and they stare hard at one another. Though neither says a word, it’s clear they’re communicating. They both turn their attention to me and Mom shakes her head. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“We take care of him and go from there,” Benji replies. His voice is firm, unrelenting, but soft, all at the same time.
“Okay,” Dad agrees. He opens his mouth to say more, but nothing comes. He shakes his head and turns into the family room.
“We need to move him upstairs,” Mom says. “To the guest room. I don’t want him down here where anyone can see.”
Jaxon and Benji nod in agreement and Mom turns her attention to me. “Go clean up, Briar.”
~*~
I thought a shower was the last thing I wanted, but as soon as the hot water hits my skin, washing away Flynn’s blood and the ash from the fire, I start scrubbing as hard as I can. I need it off.
My ribs hurt as I reach for the shampoo. Bruises have started forming down my side. Now that I’m standing still, I realize I can’t seem to get a big enough breath. Even now, away from the smoke, my lungs still refuse to expand. There’s a tap on the door and it opens before I have a chance to respond.
“I brought you some clean clothes,” Mom murmurs. “I’m taking your other ones so we can get rid of them.”
I bob my head even though she can’t see it. “How’s Flynn?” I ask hoarsely.
“I’m not sure yet.” Her voice is strained. I can tell she’s trying hard not to cry. “They got the bullet out and they’re stitching him up right now.”
Wait. My hands go still in my hair mid-wash. “They took the bullet out? Who? How did they know how to do that?”
She’s quiet too long and it worries me. I pull the curtain aside enough to see her. She brushes away the tears on her cheeks quickly. “Mom?”
“Apparently Benji’s done it before.” Her posture stiffens. “Hurry up. Jaxon needs to clean up, too. The sooner the better,” she says, cutting off my next question. I watch her gather my clothes and hurry out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with my confused thoughts.
I rush through my shower and dress quickly before going to the guest bedroom, which doubles as our office, and peek inside. Dad’s standing at the end of the bed, his arms crossed tightly. Benji’s finishing with the bandage and Jax hands him the tape to hold it in place.
“That’s all we can do for now,” Benji says, straightening up. Dad nods and puts his arm around Mom’s waist. Jax notices me then.
He glances back at Benji. “You need to check her. I think she might have broken something.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’ll never be fine again. My body hurts, but it’ll heal. My heart, on the other hand, will never mend. I will never un-see what happened to Flynn and his family. I’ll never forget.
Benji stares at me, his eyes moving over my body again, only slower this time. Searching.
“She jumped from Kingston while he was in a full run. Hit the ground pretty hard. And I…kinda tackled her.” Jaxon swallows, eyes darting from person to person. “I had to. She was trying to go after Flynn.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, she wasn’t breathing right and she’s been holding her side like that.” He dips his head in my direction and I drop my hand. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
“Shouldn’t you be getting cleaned up?” I remind him.
“Yes, come on Jaxon,” Mom says. “I’ll get you a towel.”
His eyes meet mine as he turns for the door. He raises one eyebrow as his shoulders lift in an unapologetic shrug, but he doesn’t say anything more.
“Honey, if you’re hurt you need to tell us,” Dad says.
There are so many other things—bigger problems—to worry about.
When I don’t answer, Benji takes a step back and wipes his palms across his jeans. “Briar, raise your hands above your head,” he says quietly, but with so much authority it’s clear it’s not a request.
So I turn and walk away.
I can’t deal with this shit right now. Can’t deal with him. Flynn should be in the hospital. Benji should not be playing doctor. The police shouldn’t be murdering innocent people. And who the hell is Delphi? I choke back tears as I hurry down the steps.
I’m rinsing the remaining groceries, seeing what is salvageable, and trying to keep busy so I don’t fall apart, when Benji comes up behind me.
“Bri, I’m worried about you.”
God, that nickname. The sound of it brings so many feelings to the surface. And then I realize what he said. He’s worried about me? He sure as shit could have fooled me.
I laugh. It sounds so clearly bitter and scared at the same time. I cringe internally. “Really, Benji? I can’t believe you think enough about me to be worried.”
“All I do is think about you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. I go completely still, afraid to move, to even breathe. I’m grateful my back is still turned to him so he can’t see my face.
“I can tell from here your breathing is shallow. Let me make sure you didn’t puncture your lung at least.”
Shifting from one foot to the other, I drop the can in the sink and turn around. He moves in front of me slowly, eyes fixed on mine. I press my back against the counter. This close I can see the few freckles that dot his cheeks and nose. Every strand of hair the sun has highlighted. The fullness of his lips. The day’s worth of growth on his chin.
His long
He reaches around my side, turning off the faucet, and his arm brushes against mine. I notice his hand is shaking and know undoubtedly mine would be too if I weren’t clutching the countertop for dear life.
Our faces are so close—I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, see the pulse as it beats in his neck—and I have to force myself not to turn my head into him to see what he smells like, or how good he tastes.
“I need to see.” He gestures toward my shirt. “All right?”
I nod and his fingers slide the fabric over my stomach, revealing the bruised skin. A small intake of breath is his only reaction as I stare at his downturned head. “Can you take a deep breath?” he asks. I laugh dryly because it occurs to me that I’ve been holding my breath since he stepped in front of me. As soon as I do, though, I regret it. It hurts so badly. My laugh morphs into a low groan.
I startle as his fingers brush against the injured ribs. “Sorry, I just have to feel…” He looks up at me, his words trailing off. We both go still as our eyes meet. And nothing makes sense. Just a couple hours ago he didn’t want me anywhere near him. Now he’s telling me I’m all he thinks about. The way he’s looking at me right now is not how one looks at somebody they hate. His gaze is searing into me, heated and full of desire.
None of this matters right now because Flynn’s parents were murdered. Flynn could die.
“Benji.” It’s barely more than a whisper. A softly spoken plea.
“I’ve missed you, Briar. You have no idea how much.”
I hear the floor creak as someone descends the staircase. Benji withdraws his hand and clears his throat. “I think you just bruised your ribs,” he explains as Dad comes into the kitchen. “It’s hard to say for sure without an X-ray. Either way, there’s not much you can do. It just has to heal.” He scratches his chin and glances at Dad. “Uh, if I remember correctly, you’ll have to take deep breaths, even if it hurts. And sleep with your head propped…? It keeps you from developing pneumonia or something.”