Choices

Chapter 3

Three days. The storm only got worse, effectively keeping Mickela and Egan confined to the cabin. Even the land surrounding the cabin was flooded. Patches of earth poked up through the water like a dozen tiny islands. It looked deceptively passable. Under the few inches of water lay a thick layer of mud that sucked in your boots like a vacuum faster than you could pull them out. Mickela found that out the hard way. Yesterday, out of boredom, she'd followed Egan to the small stable. After checking on the horses they'd started back to the cabin. Only three steps into the trek, Mickela was unable to dislodge her boots from the mud and lost her balance, ending up on the ground, sitting on her backside, wet, and extremely muddy.

While she sat in the tub trying to soak off the mud, Mickela's thoughts were less on keeping her wounds dry and more focused on the feel of Egan's arms as he picked her up from the ground and carried her to the house.

The next day passed the same as the two days before, with the exception of the outdoor mud bath. Mickela was ever thankful for that. But she wouldn't have minded another reason to have Egan wrap his arms around her. At lunch, she knew she was in trouble when she caught herself watching him and feeling the desire to nuzzle against his neck and inhale his scent directly from the warm pulse of his neck.

Conversation between them wasn't thick, but it was telling. Mickela wasn't much for speaking unless she had something to say and was near a person she was comfortable saying it to. Egan seemed to be the same way. To Mickela, their time together was comfortable, even if they were only sitting quietly while watching the flames in the fireplace.

That night, she checked over her wounds. They were healing well and the pain was minimum. She was finally able to be comfortable enough to sleep. She fell into a dream. It was the same dream she'd had for the last three nights. A replay of the night she was shot. The dream started with the sound she heard outside. But this time the sound was louder and managed to startle her awake.

Mickela sat up carefully and looked around the room. The fireplace cast a warm glow over the sofa where Egan was still sleeping. The dog on the floor next to the sofa, made a soft muffled groan as he stretched his front legs in his sleep.

Her attention caught by another noise from outside had Mickela up quickly, quietly, and immediately moving towards the door. She grabbed Egan's shotgun and eased herself cautiously out the front door.

He eased around from the back of the small cabin. Finally he'd tracked her here from that Aussies house. He hoped the bitch enjoyed the last couple days. Maybe wrote out her last will and testament because in just a few moments it was going to be all over for her and that shack of lying shit. Slowly he moved to the side and looked up the steps at the door. Something crawled over his foot and he jumped bumping the side of the house swearing under his breath.

Waiting a moment more he heard the door open and moved back along the side just out of sight. A satisfied grin on his face as he readied his weapon. This time she would be dead.

Mickela scanned the area for any detectable movement. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she moved slowly across the porch. She looked around everywhere but her focus kept coming back to the direction of the sound she'd heard earlier.

A telling sight caught her eye and she knew right away where he was. He was quiet and well hidden...or so he thought. He'd neglected to account for the shadow the moonlight was casting on him. The outline of his large body was easily discerned on the ground. She raised the shotgun and aimed as she crept closer to the edge of the house. At the same time, she saw his shadow moving, anticipating an ambush when she was close enough. She obliged him, but it wouldn't be her who was ambushed.

The next moments passed in a flash. They sensed each other. His goal obviously to fire on her. Hers to take him alive if she could. They moved quickly, meeting each other at the edge of the porch. She saw the light in his eyes the metallic shine on the metal barrel as he aimed. She turned the shotgun sharply to the side, bringing the butt of the gun in forceful contact with the side of his face. He fell to the muddy ground, his gun still in his hand. Mickela aimed the shotgun at him as she jumped down from the porch and kicked the gun from his hand. "NYPD. Don't move." She growled.

Scoffing he moved in a blur side stepping as he grabbed the barrel of the shotgun. Yanking it knocked her off balance but he stood in a soft patch of slick mud. When Mickela went down he fell with her. The shot gun going off as it hit the ground bouncing out of both their reach.

Swearing he grabbed her trying to hold on to her mudslick limbs as he reached for the 9mm.

His body was large and heavy on top of hers. Their struggling pushed her further into the mud beneath her. Pissed that he was stupid enough to lunge and grab the end of her weapon, Mickela growled as she took advantage of his change in position. Her elbow impacted hard against his jaw, stunning him long enough for two blows to his head from her other fist.

She felt the hard outline of his gun he'd managed to get hold of. As they struggled, his lifted the gun in an attempt to aim at her. She pulled the kitchen knife from her back pocket and sliced it across his neck. His hand flew to the wound and he fell back slightly. As he recovered, she rolled over and snatched the shotgun. She turned back quickly and aimed. Before she could warn him not to move, he raised his gun. She fired, hitting him in the chest. He staggered back then raised his gun again. She fired again. Again hitting him center chest. He staggered forward and fell on top of her.

Her fingers pressed to his neck. No pulse. Mickela grunted as she pushed at his body. His arm sat heavily across the wound on her waist. She winced and grunted as pushed harder against his dead weight. "Get off...you...bastard."

Egan woke to the shots jumping to his feet. Looking over to the bed his pulse began to race. Mickela wasn't there. He found the shotgun missing as well when he reached for it. Running out side he saw Mickela lying under that beast of a man that had been at his door.

"Mic!" Jumping off the porch to the ground he ran over and hauled the man off of her. When he grabbed the body he realized it was just that, no life was left. "Bloody hell."

Shoving the corpse to the side he dropped to one knee to Mickela. Carefully he brushed her rain and mud soaked hair from her face and lifted her to him examining as he spoke. His heart pounding. "Mic, are you hurt?"

She panted for breath. Her heart racing from the adrenaline. Mickela winced slightly as Egan helped her up to her feet. She reached under her muddy shirt and felt the bandage on her waist. She held up her hand and looked. Only mud. No blood. She exhaled and nodded with a soft grin. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Sighing with relief he gave her a grin back. Putting his arm around her Egan looked back at the body getting soaked by the now falling rain. It was over she was safe. "He's the same one who tried to kill you?"

She nodded. "Yeah that's him. Michael Lott. I'm certain of it."

Two days later, the storm subsided and the ground soaked up enough of the flood waters to make the main roads passable. Mickela lay in the hospital bed watching the nurse finish changing the bandages then checking the IV. Before she left, the nurse gave Mickela a reassuring grin and reminded her to use the call button if she needed anything.

Mickela settled back into the bed. The only noise in the room being the soft rustle of the too crisp bed sheets. Daylight spilled into the room and she turned her head to look out the window. Just great, she thought with amusement, now the sun decides to come out.

Egan wasn't sure if she would want visitors but here he was walking down the hall to her room. Quiet and solitude had returned to his home but there was something missing since she left. Maybe he'd gotten used to her being around. Bugger he had to admit to himself he had started to like having her there.

Standing in the open doorway he knocked on the jam. When she looked over he gave her a shy smile. "I...uh…Just wanted to see if you were on the mend."

Mickela grinned softly and nodded. "Yeah, I am. Thanks to you." She motioned gently for him to come in. "Did you happen to see how much sun is outside today?"

With a grin he nodded. "Yeah, Mutt is grateful. He doesn't have to get a bath before coming in."

Walking in he set a small potted flower on her bedside table. "Just somethin’ to brighten the room while you’re stuck inside. Since you're doing well I suppose they'll let you go soon."

She shifted in the bed to sit up a little more. It was nice to see him. Hear his voice. Only yesterday afternoon since he brought her to the hospital, but it seemed like much longer. Seeing him in the room made her realize how much she'd missed his company. "Yeah," She nodded as her fingertips brushed over the bright blue flowers he'd brought. "They're keeping me for observation. I have a flight back to the States in the morning."

He couldn't help but be a bit disappointed to hear she's leaving so soon. This would probably be the last time he sees her. Mic wouldn't be interested in a bloke like him anyways. She's a big city cop and he's a horse drover. Still, he couldn’t help but think that he'd miss her sitting next to him by the fire. Funny that. They've never shared anything intimate but he felt like they had.

Egan cocked his had slightly. A bashful gesture that was actually more out of discomfort with his thoughts. Surely in her mind he would be easily forgotten once back in New York. "I imagine you're looking forward to seeing home again."

"Yes and no," She smiled softly. Part of her reluctance to go back was because of Egan. But he was a quiet Aussie and she was what he probably saw as a brash New Yorker. "I'll fill out my report on the incident then they'll probably try to plant me behind a desk." Mickela looked at Egan and wondered if he would miss her. "Might not be too bad an idea," She shrugged. "Not sitting behind a desk, but that it's probably what they intend to do. I've been looking for a reason to find something quieter. I was raised in Virginia, near the ocean. I became a cop because my dad encouraged me. I like my job. I'm good at it. But...there's something else I'd rather do."

It was in her voice the need for something different. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to stay for a few days longer. But she had to get back home to her work. His voice was soft as he spoke. "If you ever find you way back down under you know where I stay. Just try not to fall on the porch next time." He grinned softly as he stuck his hands in his pocket to keep from brushing her hair from her face.

She smiled and hoped she would find a reason to come back to Australia. If she didn’t find one, she would be sure to make one up.