She slipped the gun from his waistband and pressed the butt of it into his back, hoping he could feel what she was doing. “Please. Move aside like he said.”
“See, my pretty slave wants me to touch her. Now get the fuck out of the way, and maybe I’ll let you watch.”
Reid glanced over his shoulder, giving her a pointed glace, and mouthed the word “one.” She nodded, counting the next numbers in her head.
Two.
Three.
In one swift motion, he took a wide step to the left. Automatically, Davis’s gaze and pistol followed the movement, giving Brynn the beat of time she needed to aim. When Davis’s attention returned to her, the pompous smile wilted. Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger of Reid’s gun, shooting the man of her nightmares squarely in the chest.
But the deafening sound of the shot seemed to stutter as the gun recoiled in her hands—two bangs, not one. She looked down at her weapon, confused. Only when she heard the dueling groans of agony did she realize her shot hadn’t been the only one fired. Horror ratcheted through her as she lifted her gaze to find two crumpled and bloodied men on the floor.
“No!” Brynn yelled, and jolted forward, but the waist and ankle straps held her fast to the cross. “Reid!”
Tears pricked her eyes as she set the gun aside and frantically unfastened the bindings. Low moans came from Reid, giving her hope she still had time to help him. She couldn’t lose him—wouldn’t. Davis had taken so much from her; she refused to allow him to take any more.
She freed herself and raced to Reid. Blood covered the entire left side of his shirt and the hand he had clamped over the wound. She couldn’t tell if he’d been shot in the chest or shoulder. She brushed a hand over his ashen cheek. “Reid, can you hear me, baby? I’m going to go find a phone. Can you try to stay awake for me?”
“My pocket,” he said through a grimace of pain.
She patted his pockets, then dove in when she felt the cell phone.
She hoped her rushed words to the police conveyed the situation clearly enough. They assured her help was on the way and that they’d send someone to her house to find her sister and Roslyn. They wanted her to stay on the line, but she couldn’t focus on the 911 operator. She needed to keep Reid conscious.
She stepped around Davis and the pool of blood spreading beneath him. Her stomach threatened to heave. She’d killed someone. Granted, he’d deserved it, but she knew she’d be seeing this scene replayed in her mind for a long time.
Dragging her focus away from the macabre sight, she hurried to the far wall and grabbed a stack of clean towels off a shelf. She wrapped one around herself, then brought the rest to Reid’s side. Gingerly, she lifted his hand away from his shirt and placed a towel against his wound, applying pressure. His bloodied hand settled on top of hers.
“I’m sorry I… lied to you,” he said, sounding like each word was a monumental effort. “But need you to know, everything between us… was real. I—”
“Shh,” she soothed. “We’ll talk about it later. I’ll save your ass-kicking for then.”
A choked sound that could’ve been an attempt at a laugh escaped him, causing him to wince. “Look forward to it.”
He went quiet and anxiety clawed at her as his breath turned shallower, but she couldn’t let Reid sense her fear. She channeled every ounce of her remaining strength into her voice. “You stay with me, Reid. I don’t care how bad it hurts. You’re not allowed to go to sleep. You understand?”
His lips quivered into a hint of a smile. “I’ll try.”
“Trying isn’t good enough,” she said, keeping her tone firm. His commands had always cleared her mind, sharpened her focus, and she hoped to God it would work the same way for him right now. “I’m done losing the people I care about. You don’t have permission to leave.”
His mouth curved into a full grin, even as his skin took on a sickly shade of gray. “Yes, ma’am.”
But right as the paramedics thundered down the stairs, the grip of his hand on top of hers went slack and the smile faded from his face.
TWENTY-THREE
now
Brynn shifted in the hospital’s vinyl-covered chair, pulling her knees to her chest and setting her chin on them. The change in position relieved some of the pressure on the healing welts striping her back, but irritated the ones on her front side. No matter. She’d survive.
The monitors at the nurses’ station continued their steady beat, lulling her into a near catatonic state. She hadn’t slept in days. Couldn’t. Reid’s surgery had gone well even though he’d lost a lot of blood, and the doctor had said he should make a full recovery. But watching Reid lie in bed for two days—only waking up for brief, drug-induced moments—had her on edge. She needed to hear from the man himself that he was okay.Author: Roni Loren
She closed her eyes, the insides of her lids feeling like steel wool scraping against them. The scene in the basement kept playing over and over in her mind. All the things she could’ve done differently. How if she had just stayed and talked to Reid instead of running away to the party, everything could’ve been avoided.
Running. Always running. It’s what she did best.
“Ma’am.” The nurse’s hand on her shoulder made Brynn jump. The older woman smiled down at her. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”