Drake returns his aim to Torian, his focus still on me. “I don’t know what your game is—”
“Decker, are you still there?” The strong, feminine voice rises from the ground. “I’m here. It’s Special Agent Anissa Fox of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Shut it off,” Drake roars. “Someone shut it off.”
“Decker?” she shouts. “Decker, answer me.”
A gray-haired man runs forward, his gun aimed on me. He sweeps the cell off the ground, one hand madly working on the buttons when a single pop rings out. I feel the bullet skitter past my shoulder, the impact, throwing old man silver backward, instantly penetrating skin, then bone, then brain. He falls to the floor, the crack of skull the last thing I hear before pop, pop, pops slice around me.
I run. I fucking sprint while gunshots whistle from outside.
I rush toward the men crouching to take aim, bypassing the threat of their weapons as I leap for Keira.
I take her to the ground, both of us sliding into Sarah while five more shots ring out. I cover them both the best I can, straddling body parts and chair legs. It’s a fucking mess as I cradle Keira’s head in my hands and feel the soft hum of her sobs.
The heavy slap of a lifeless body falls behind me.
I don’t know if it’s Torian. I don’t dare to look. The outcome is a double-edged sword when the only possibility of being with Keira is dependent on the death of her brother.
There’s another shot, another clap of death hitting the cement.
Then silence.
I can’t move. All I hear is ringing in my ears. All I feel is her life vibrating against my chest.
“They’re down,” Luca yells. “Hurry up and get out of there.”
Thumping footfalls approach as I lean on one elbow and remove Keira’s gag. “It’s okay. It’s over.”
Her lips tremble, the tears still streaking her cheeks.
“It’s okay. I promise.” I wipe away the moisture and slam my mouth against hers, needing the split second of connection. “You’re safe, buttercup. You’re fucking safe.”
She sobs into my mouth, her nose nuzzling mine as more tears flow.
“I’ve got your phone.” Hunt’s boots enter my line of sight and he crouches down next to Sarah. “You need to get moving.”
He strokes her hair, trying to wake her, and gets a soft moan for his efforts.
She’s okay. For now.
“He’s right.” I inch back and don’t deny the euphoric twist to my stomach when Keira’s eyes peer up at me with relief.
She’s so fucking beautiful. Even here. Now. Surrounded by a mass of chaos.
Then her expression falters. Fractures. Her baby blues turn frantic, her skin immediately pale.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Cole, no.”
I hear the click of a cocked gun a second before the barrel presses into the back of my skull.
“Cole, please.” She thrashes despite her bindings, her face a picture of grief and horror.
“It’s okay.” I climb off her, retreating slowly, and turn to face Torian.
This was always going to be the conclusion. If not here, then somewhere else. Somewhere soon.
“You’re the snitch,” he accuses.
I thought I’d be scared in the moments before my death. I anticipated hysteria. Panic. Maybe even regret. I feel none of that.
Nothing but calm now Keira is safe.
“Yeah.” I hold his stare. “I’m your snitch.”
“No. No. No,” she wails. “Cole, stop, let me explain.”
He doesn’t acknowledge her pleas. I’m not sure he hears them through his anger. “For how long?”
“Back off.” Hunter steps toward us, Sarah cradled in his arms. “You don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.”
“Like hell I don’t. I’ve been searching for this son of a bitch for too damn long.”
“You’ve been searching, but it’s not him.” Hunter starts for the door. “He’s not the fucking informant. He’s covering for me. But I ain’t talking shit in here. We need to leave.”
“Bullshit.” Torian’s lip curls. “I know it’s him. I’ve always known.”
There’s a wealth of conviction in his tone. An undeniable belief. It’s the waver in his hand that catches me off guard and the slightest hint of uncertainty with his scrutinizing look.
He’s not entirely convinced.
“You’re a smart man,” I mutter. “Too bad you didn’t stop me a long time ago.”
Hunt’s not going to take the fall for me. Not even temporarily.
After everything that’s happened this week, I’m too fucking tired of hiding in plain sight.
“No. They’re both lying,” Keira wails. “It was me. I worked with the Feds. It was all me, Cole. That’s why you thought it was Sebastian, but could never find proof. It’s because you never suspected me. You never would’ve imagined I’d be the one to betray you.”
Torian’s scrutiny increases, and his weapon lowers a click.
“Think about it.” She wiggles in her toppled chair. “I killed Richard. I put us in this situation with Drake. I’ve lied to you about everything. It was all me.”
“Keira, don’t,” I whisper.
The warehouse door swings open to slam against the metal wall, and Luca storms in. “Did you think I was joking?” He runs toward us. “We need to leave. I can hear sirens.” He places a hand on Torian’s extended arm and meets my gaze. “Everything else can wait.”
A silent message passes between us. One that doesn’t hold a threat of violence.
For once this Navy fucker isn’t throwing me under the bus.
He might actually be trying to save me.
My fucking hero.
“What’s it going to be, Torian?” I ask.
He doesn’t move.
Dead bodies are scattered around us, Keira is bound to a chair that’s toppled to the floor, and cops are approaching, yet he doesn’t budge an inch.
“Cole. Please,” she pleads. “You need to listen to me.”
He steps closer, nuzzling the gun into my chest. “Don’t even think about running.” The metal presses harder, my life hanging in the balance of a hair-trigger. “I’ll distract the cops. You make sure you get her out of here.”
29
Keira
I jog beside Sebastian, twisting my wrist to bring back circulation. There’s no one else in sight. No cars. No people. No life out here.
“I don’t think the sirens are headed in our direction.” I pant. “They’re not coming for us.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He encourages me to keep moving with a gentle hand at the curve of my back. “We don’t want to hang around.”
“What about the bodies? There’s evidence.”
“Your brother will make the necessary calls. He knows what he’s doing.”
I push my legs harder to keep up and glance over my shoulder to see Hunter running with Sarah in his arms. She winces with every jolt, her face pinched in pain.
My guilt becomes overwhelming. It’s hard to breathe through the torment.
But it’s what I deserve.
Everything that happened in the warehouse was my fault.
I put everyone’s life at risk. My stupidity could’ve killed my brother, the man I love, and three more people I care about.
Sebastian presses harder on my back. “Keep running.”
I nod and follow him around a bank of bushes to an old Jeep hidden in the darkness.
“Ride shotgun. Let Hunt lay Sarah down in the back.”
He doesn’t wait for me to comply. He climbs into the driver’s seat, starting the ignition while I slide in the other side.
The engine splutters into action, jolting my bones over and over.
“She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?” Sebastian shoves the car into gear and inches us out of the shadows. “We had to drive this deathtrap back from my brother’s house.”
I grimace, letting
the shame sauté my insides as we approach Hunter and wait for him to climb inside.
I attempt to think of ways to make up for my actions while we drive through streets bathed in moonlight. My mind becomes overwhelmed trying to fix something that seems shattered into a million pieces. Everything is a mess.
“Any requests on where we should go?” Sebastian keeps his gaze on the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel despite his calm demeanor. “I need to know where I’m driving.”
“Out of town.” The words rasp from my sore throat. “You need to get as far away from Cole as possible.”
The last time we had this discussion, I was fighting for him to stay. Now I want nothing more than to get out of here. To flee Portland. Escape my family. At least for a little while.
“Sarah needs medical attention.” The glow of Hunter’s cell beams from the back seat. “I’ve already texted my guy to meet us at Keira’s house. It’s the closest option.”
“Then we have to pull over.” I wiggle forward in my seat, speaking directly to Sebastian. “Hunter can take the car while we move on foot.”
His fingers clench and re-clench against the wheel in his ongoing silence.
“Sebastian?”
“Put your seatbelt on.” He shoots me a look of warning. “I’m not running anywhere.”
“Cole isn’t going to—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Keira. Just let it go. I’ll be fine.”
Fine.
Why does nobody use that word for its intended purpose anymore?
“I don’t think that means what you think it means.” I repeat the phrase he spoke to me a lifetime ago. Back before the craziness. Prior to my love.
His mouth kicks at the side. It’s slow. Subtle. The emotion hits me right in the chest, giving me the slightest hope for redemption.
“Please.” I keep pleading. I guess I’ll have to for a long time to make any sort of dint in the forgiveness I need to earn.
“We’re not running.” This time his statement is grated, demanding an end to the conversation.
I slink back in my seat and lean my head against the window, breathing slow through the building regret.
I’m going to lose him.
After everything we’ve been through, despite all the good he’s done for me, this is going to end. And right now, it feels like it will kill me in the process.
Hunter’s voice murmuring from the back seat doesn’t help. He speaks to Sarah in hushed tones, promising to look after her, complimenting her bravery, and pleading for her forgiveness.
She whimpers through his admissions, her pain filling the car to capacity.
The intimacy is hauntingly beautiful as Sebastian veers around one corner, then another, his sterility promising something entirely different.
He doesn’t want me anymore. I’ve burned that bridge.
And rightly so.
But I’m not ready to give up. There’s still fight left in me despite the weary exhaustion.
By the time we reach my house, there’s an older man waiting on my doorstep. He doesn’t fit the wealthy neighborhood demographic with his loose sweatpants and dark hoodie. The only thing that suits his reputation is the doctor’s bag hanging at his side, which looks entirely mismatched against his clothing.
“Have you got your keys?” Hunt opens his door and slides Sarah toward him along the back seat.
“No. I don’t have anything.” Not keys, a phone, or any self-respect. “Just break a window. Break them all. I don’t care. All you need is the code for the alarm which is five-seven-two-nine.”
He doesn’t wait for more instructions. He hauls Sarah into his arms, kicks the door shut, and carries her around the front of the car to speak to the shifty doctor.
“We need to leave,” I whisper. “Cole won’t be far away.”
Sebastian breaks my heart by cutting the engine. “I’m not running. I’m done hiding, too.”
I hang my head, fighting frustration. “You wouldn’t be on your own. I’d be with you. We can go together.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Your place is in Portland, with your family.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve betrayed my entire bloodline. My place isn’t here at all. It’s with you.” I glance his way and find him focused out the windshield. He can’t even look at me anymore. “Please. You need to trust me.”
He lets out a derisive laugh, and all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut against the pain.
“Trust isn’t the issue,” he murmurs. “I’ve always trusted you. Even when I shouldn’t.”
There’s a jingle of keys, the opening of a door, then his slide out of the car.
I don’t move, not apart from my jolt of shock when the door slams.
We need to leave. We have to.
There’s no other option.
Cole will already be tracking us down. His temper will be in full force. Hysteria will make all his decisions for him.
My door swings wide, and a gentle hand glides over my thigh.
“They opened the house for us. Let’s talk inside.”
I open my eyes and stare down at the fingers splayed against my jeans. I remember all the times he’s touched me—physically and emotionally. A wealth of craziness has been shared between us, but I’ve become even more rich in appreciation.
This man has become my world.
He’s my everything.
Maybe Cole will understand.
“Keira, sweetheart, come on. You don’t want to stay out here.” He’s crouched beside me, his gaze solemn. “I need to get you cleaned up.”
“I don’t get why you’re fighting me on this. Yesterday, you were ready to run.”
“We’ll talk about it inside.” He stands and holds out a hand.
I frown at his offering and ponder all the things that come with it—the resignation and surrender.
It means goodbye.
I swallow hard and place my fingers against his, dreading every step as he leads me into the house. He drops his hold when we reach the living room, focusing his attention on Sarah laid out along my sofa.
“Is she going to be okay?” he asks.
The doctor cradles her head in both hands, using his thumbs to press against her skull. “It’s hard to tell without scans.”
“No.” Sarah winces. “No hospital. I’m not going back there.”
“She’s going to be okay.” Hunt sits down on the arm rest, right near her head. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Sebastian nods. “Yell out if you need anything.” He turns to me. “Is there some place private we can talk?”
I keep my gaze on Sarah, taking in every wince and hiss of pain.
“Keira? It’s this way to your bedroom, right?”
He points a hand toward the hall, and I ignore my curiosity at how he knows the intimate details of my house. Nothing surprises me anymore.
“Yeah.”
He leads the way down to the last room on the left, indicating for me to enter first before he closes the door behind us.
I drag my feet to the end of the bed, not willing to face him anymore. I don’t know how to look at him and remain strong at the same time.
“How are you holding up?” he murmurs. “Has shock set in?”
“Is that a trick question?” Maybe I was wrong, maybe I can still be surprised, because he’s not making any sense to me. “You know I’m frantic, Sebastian. And yes, I’m shocked as hell that you’re keeping us here when Cole is on his way.”
He reverts back to the silent treatment.
“Why won’t you run?” I turn to face him, not holding back the frustration in my voice. “Are you waiting for an apology? Is that it? Because I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry I didn’t listen to you. What I did was selfish and stupid, but I didn’t see that at the time. All I wanted was to be able to fight my own battles.”
He focuses his attention on the bed, his gaze wandering over the beaded quilt and the mass of decorative pillows. “T
hat’s not what this is about.”
“Then what is it?” I start toward him. “Tell me, and I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
He closes his eyes for long seconds, then huffs out a sigh. “I don’t want you to do anything, precious.”
I stop before him and lean toward his line of vision until he meets my eyes. “What are you going to do when he gets here?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing.
The word shudders through me, bringing an icy chill.
“I can’t stop him, Keira. We both know that.” He bridges the space between us and weaves his hands around my waist. His touch is everything—gentle, smooth, affectionate. “I just want to stay here while I can. No running. No hiding. No panic.”
“He’s going to—”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s out of our control.”
“No, it’s not.” I slam my palm against his chest. “You’re giving up, when we could be running. It wouldn’t be forever. Only until he has the patience to listen to the full story. We can stay away until he forgives you.”
“Forgives me? Really?” He snickers through a mocking smile. “You’re not very good at this, pumpkin.”
I shove at him. “This isn’t a joke.”
He’s laughing at me. Laughing when so much hangs in the balance of every second that ticks by.
“Why won’t you listen?” I grab his shirt, entangling my fingers in the material to tug, tug, tug some sense into him.
His humor fades, and those eyes turn somber. “Because if my minutes are numbered, I want to spend every second standing here with you… I’d just prefer it without the fighting.”
“No.” I shake my head and thump my fist against his chest. “Please.”
He pulls me close, his arms a vise around me as he presses his lips to my temple. “Just enjoy what we’ve got.”
“I’ll die without you,” I whisper.
“And I’ll die for you. It’s always been that way.” He rocks me back and forth, moving us in a silent dance of farewell. “I love you. Never forget that, okay?”
I cling to him. To the words. To the warmth.
“I won’t let go.” My breathing begins to fracture, each breath getting shorter, sharper, until I’m hyperventilating. “I can’t.”
Decker Page 32
