“No,” James whispers. “No, no, no, fuck, no!”
I slump against him, suddenly overwhelmed by the agony, feeling my body becoming light. Lawrence screams, and it is a scream of pure, raw agony.
The last thing I see is James’s distraught face.
And the last thing I hear is his roar.
64
JAMES
I thought I’d known pain at its greatest. I thought I would live out my life immune to further hurt. Because surely there was nothing that could compete with losing my entire family. Or being burned alive. How wrong I was. But scarier than the pain is the anger. Anger that has taken on a frightening level. Anger that might not ever be sated.
My arse on the chair is numb, my eyes unmoving from the speck of dirt on the floor a few feet away. I don’t know how much time has passed. It’s an effort to turn my eyes to check. To lift my wrist to see my watch.
Save her. The two words circle my head persistently. I focus on only them, because letting my mind go elsewhere would be dangerous.
Save her. Save her. Save her.
I hear the door open, but my eyes remain locked on the speck of dirt. “I’m sorry, Kel,” Goldie says, softer than I’ve ever heard her speak before. “We lost him. I got his license plate number.”
“BMW?”
“Yeah.”
“Leave me,” I order, not needing to hear anymore. They didn’t chase him down. They didn’t catch the fucker so I could torture him until he passes out. But I’ll find him. I refuse to die until I do. “And make sure Nathan Butler is still being watched.”
The door closes, and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, taking my head in my hands. God help the world if I lose her.
God. Fucking. Help. It.
I stand abruptly, starting to circle the room, forcing my breathing into steadiness, shaking the burn out of my twitching hands. Calm. Give me calm.
No calm.
I roar and upend a table, picking it up and launching it out of the window. It shatters, and glass sprays the room, pelting me with shards.
Still no calm.
The chairs follow the table.
My fist sinks into the wall.
I kick and punch anything is sight, completely unhinged, finding no peace in this fucked-up world.
“Mr. Kelly!”
I spin, heaving like a raging bull, the red mist thick.
“For fuck’s sake, Kel.” Otto appears next to the doctor by the door. I can just make them out through the fogginess of my vision, both of them taking in the carnage. “I’ll ensure this is all taken care of,” Otto assures the doctor. “My apologies.”
“Miss Hayley is out of surgery,” the doctor says, tentative and wary.
The fog clears. Hope has arrived.
I’m almost too scared to ask. “And . . .”
“We removed the bullet from Beau’s abdomen. She’s stable.”
I fall back against the wall, my knees giving way. Stable. She’s stable. I slide down the wall, the relief too much, but the doctor doesn’t look as relieved as I feel. He doesn’t look like a man delivering good news. I hold his eyes, once again scared to ask. “The baby?”
He swallows, backing out of the room. Getting out of my line of fire. “I’m afraid there was nothing we could do to save your baby, Mr. Kelly. I’m very sorry. The blood loss, the trauma. I’m afraid the pregnancy ended while Beau was in surgery.”
I stare blankly at the doctor, my head bobbing mildly, nodding, agreeing.
Accepting?
Never.
“She’s in recovery now,” he goes on. “You can see her.” He casts his eyes across the room, assessing the damage. There’s nothing else for me to destroy in here. But out there?
“Kel,” Otto says quietly, and I look at him blankly. “You should go to her.”
“Worried what else I might do?” I ask, slowly dragging myself to my feet. “Because you should be.” I pass him, heading for Beau, trying not to plot every move I’m going to make until I can make it. Until Beau is well. “I have some things I need you to do,” I call back. There’s nothing to stop me preparing.
I turn at the end of the corridor and see Lawrence and Beau’s ex up ahead, both still looking like they’ve seen ghosts. “She’s out of surgery,” I say as I pass them. Lawrence, naturally, is on my tail, though Ollie, wisely, remains where he is, waiting for an invitation to visit her. He’ll never get that invitation. “Are you okay?” I ask Lawrence over my shoulder as I walk, trying to be sensitive. The man looks like death warmed up, his face puffy, his eyes red.
“Don’t worry about me,” he says, his voice wobbly. “Beau is my priority right now.”
“We’ve lost the baby.” The words come from nowhere, and I slow at the door to Beau’s room, staring at the wood.
“I’m very sorry.” Lawrence has given up trying to keep his emotions in check, but I’m under no illusion that his sorrow is for me.