(37) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

“Please be here,” I prayed as I drove down the street.

All I had to go on was the address on Blair’s license and the fact that he had indeed flown into this city.

My stomach was in a knot of fear and anticipation, my hand’s white-knuckled on the steering wheel of the rental car. I was an hour or so behind him, my only advantage, the fact that he hadn’t rented a car himself. I knew this because Jack had checked while I was in the air.

If Blair wasn’t here then I didn’t know what I’d do. Another thing Jack had done for me, once I’d convinced him I needed him to stay behind, was run a search for the name Ryley. He’d come up blank which probably meant that Blair had kept his mother’s name after she’d remarried.

The house bearing the address I needed was well kept with flowerbeds under the green shuttered windows. After parking and getting out of the car, I stood looking at the front door before walking up the path to the porch. I couldn’t see a doorbell so I raised my hand to knock.

A scream rang out, shattering the calm with its pain and terror.

I didn’t give it a second thought as I drew my gun. Was I licensed to carry in this state? No. Did I have the authority of my badge behind me here? No. Did I give a damn at that moment? Hell no!  I tried the door and unbelievably it opened.

As I entered the house I heard a loud, angry voice coming from the second floor.

“You shut up boy! You know better. You don’t make a sound unless I tell you to.”

I raced up the stairs to the sound of leather striking flesh. A muffled sob came from an open doorway to my left.

As I burst into the room a heavy-set, burly, half-naked man spun around to look at me.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?” he shouted before he saw the gun in my hand.

I didn’t answer as I strode across the room to the bed. One look and I was kneeling beside Blair, my gun still trained on the bastard who had done this to him. There were vicious welts across his back and thighs both from a belt and its buckle. I was afraid to touch him to say the least of move him. Resting my free hand on the back of his neck I squeezed it gently as I whispered, “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

The bastard who had done this took advantage of my momentary inattention to kick out at me. If he hadn’t accompanied that with a string of swear words I might have gone down. As it was, I moved just enough that his blow hit my gun hand. The pistol went flying and he tackled me. Now I’m not flyweight but this man was big and heavy. And he had panic on his side to counter my anger. As we wrestled, each one of us trying to subdue the other, I ended up on the loosing side of the battle. He brought one meaty fist down on my temple and the light dimmed.

Then a shot rang out.