My jaw tightens, and I square him with a determined stare that I know throws him off balance momentarily. He takes one step forward, raising the gun, aiming it at me. I don’t flinch. Don’t move. I make it easy for him, keep his target still.
I’m so focused on my intention, so determined. Any purpose I had, and happiness I found, it’s all gone now. Ryan’s dead. And it’s my fault.
Not moving my eyes from Jarrad’s, I sit, waiting for the sound that’ll signify my end. My eyes drop to his finger on the trigger, watching closely as he squeezes.
And then he jerks, the gun fires, and I startle, instinctively ducking.
“I don’t think so.” Ryan’s voice is like life after death, and I look up, seeing the two men rolling around on the ground. Jarrad aims his gun straight into Ryan’s face, and my broken heart flies up to my throat, stripping me of the ability to scream. My brain hasn’t had time to register what’s going on; things are moving too fast.
And before I know what’s happening, I’m up and running toward them. My leg catapults forward, kicking Jarrad’s hand, and the gun goes flying into the air, landing a few yards away.
“You stupid bitch!” Jarrad yells, starting to get up off the ground urgently. But Ryan moves faster, expertly, straddling him and firing a few more punches into his mangled face.
I don’t scream at him to stop this time. I lower, picking up the gun from the ground. And I aim it at my husband’s head. “Ryan,” I say, and he stops and looks up at me, while he holds Jarrad down by his throat. His gaze falls to the gun in my hand. And he nods.
I wait for Jarrad to look up and find me, wait for us to be eye-to-eye. Wait for him to see the strength and purpose in me. His stare widens, and I move forward, bending and pushing the barrel into the top of his head.
And I pull the trigger.
Chapter Thirty-Three
RYAN
Staring down at the mess of blood and guts beneath me, I curl my lip, wishing I could revive Knight and repeat. I flop to my back next to him, reaching for my leg to apply pressure. Fuck me, the pain. I start to take deep breaths, feeling a bit light-headed as I strain to lift my head. I find Hannah frozen, her impossibly big eyes even larger than usual. Shock. I get it. But she’s going to have to pull herself together.
“Hannah,” I say, the effort of calling her name taking everything out of me.
She slowly lowers her eyes to the gun hanging limply in her hand, and then drops it like it’s a hot potato. I take in the mess of her face, blood staining the entire right side. My fists clench. If I had one more bullet, I’d crawl on my hands and knees and sink it into his dead heart.
“Hannah,” I call again through my teeth, pulling her attention to me. She lifts her fingertips to the cut at her temple when she registers my glare rooted there, flinching.
“It’s nothing,” she whispers.
Nothing? I hope Knight is burning in hell. “You just gonna leave me here to die?” I rip my stare away and realign my focus on Hannah.
She snaps out of her inertness quickly, now completely panicked, and rushes around Jarrad’s dead body to me on shaky legs.
Dropping to her knees, she scans me up and down, her hands held up in front of her, trembling. “Oh my God.” Those shaking hands go to her face and cover it. “Please don’t die,” she begs. “Please.”
I grab her wrist, yanking her hands down. “I’m not going to die.”
“But you said—”
“I’m not going to die,” I reiterate firmly.
“How do you know?” She takes another peek at the blood on my jeans, shaking her head mindlessly.
“If the bullet had hit anything fatal, I’d be dead by now.” I grab her hands and put them over my wound, pushing them in hard. “Fuck,” I breathe, blinking back the stars. “Just keep the pressure there.” I feel my way to my pocket and pull out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling for help.”
“Oh my God, they’re going to lock you up. And me!”
“We’re going nowhere,” I say with grit, putting the phone to my ear. Lucinda’s hello is calm. Unruffled. “I can’t promise no marks,” I say coolly, and she sighs. I imagine her forehead meeting her antique desk, rolling from side to side. “It was him or me, Luce.” I flinch, sucking in air through my teeth as a nasty stab of pain shoots through my thigh.
“You’re hurt,” she says in response. “How bad?”
“I need medical attention, I know that much.” I smile mildly when Hannah looks at me like I’m mad. And she looks mad, her lips straightening.
“How much attention?” Lucinda asks, trying to get a feel for what she’s faced with.
“Enough to help dig a bullet out of my thigh.”
“Oh, fucking hell.”
“I’ll live.”
“And Knight? How bad?”
I drop my head to the side, looking at the malevolent motherfucker. “Suicide definitely isn’t gonna wash.”
“For the love of God,” she yells. “I told you, make it clean!”
“Like I said, him or me. Are you going to help me or not?”
“Jesus, Ryan, this will be the end of us.”
I hear her, loud and clear. I know what I’m asking. “I can do it on my own, Luce, but it’ll take me a lot fucking longer without your help.”
She’s silent for a few beats, probably staring at her laptop in despair. “What do you need?” I hear her tapping away at the keyboard before she finishes speaking.
“A doctor, first and foremost. I’ll send you the address of my cabin. I should be able to make it back there.” I ignore Hannah’s incredulous glare. “I need a cleanup. Discreet.”
“Discreet?” Lucinda parrots. “No, I’ll send them in with foghorns and carnival music. Fuck me, I’m gonna have to call in every fucking favor owed to me for crimes gone by.”
I smile. Good old Luce. “Knight’s Mitsubishi is here. I want concealed transportation to get it to his castle in Scotland.”
Hannah releases some pressure from my leg, and I force it back down, seeing it all slowly sinking in.
“There are paintings by Hannah Bright hung somewhere in that castle. I don’t know what rooms. There are three. Get rid of them.”
“Anything else?” she fires sarcastically.
“Yes, a few kilos of cocaine.” The pressure on my thigh lightens again, and I slam it down, giving Hannah a warning look.
“Piece of cake,” she mutters. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Oh, and my truck’s totally mangled. It needs to be destroyed,” I add, and she groans. “I’ll never give you a headache ever again, Luce.”
“This isn’t a headache, Ryan,” she mutters. “This is a fucking brain tumor. And you don’t damn well work for me anymore.”
“I’ll send you the coordinates of our location.”
She sighs, and it’s weary. “Okay.”
“Thanks, Luce.” My voice is quiet but loaded with appreciation.
“No sweat. I’m looking on the bright side.”
“There’s a bright side?”
“Yeah. I might lose all the favors I’m owed from every bent spy, cop, and politician I’ve ever scraped out from the shit, but at least I’ll be owed by you.”
I laugh, and immediately wince. “Shit.”
“Get back to your cabin and sit tight,” she murmurs, sounding concerned again. “There’s no chance of the carnage you’ve caused being found before we get there?”
I look around, seeing nothing but trees and overgrowth. Hear nothing but wildlife. “We’re a few miles outside town. Population zero for at least a four-mile radius.”
“I’ll have a cleanup team there by nightfall.” She hangs up, and my hand flops to the ground, exhaustion sweeping in. But I can’t flake out yet.
“The paintings,” Hannah mumbles. “It really was him buying them.”
I nod.
“I wasn’t losing my mind.” She swallows. “He’s been tormenting me.�
�� She looks across to his dead body, a wave of anger crossing her pretty face, hardening it. “He’s been fucking with my head.”
I grab her arm, finding it rock-solid, her body tense. “Look at me,” I order. Her eyes snap to mine, and I’m taken aback by the dilation of her pupils, her eyes virtually black. Hollow. I imagine she had this look about her many times in her previous life. A look of desolation mixed with anger. She had no way to exorcise those feelings. She had no way to escape. She lived on a knife-edge, could never have freedom.
Now she does.
I find some strength and reach for her neck, pulling her down. “Until the day I die, I will consume so much of your mind, there will be no room for anything else. I will be the shield between you and your memories, Hannah. There is only happiness in our future. Only tenderness and love.”
Her lip wobbles, her face nuzzling into mine. I feel the wet warmth of her tears against my skin. They will be the last tears she ever sheds because of him. “Promise me,” she whispers.
“I promise you.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
HANNAH
Six days later
I’ve been waiting for this day for what feels like centuries. I’ve been praying for all that time, too.
“I’m coming,” Ryan declares, not for the first time, as he hisses and spits his way up to a seated position on the couch, panting when he finally makes it. “Fuck…me.”
I exhale my exasperation and go to him, sitting on the sofa beside him. “You’re not coming.” Not because I don’t want him to, but because he’s far from ready to exert himself to that level. Since we made it back to the cabin last Sunday, he’s been hobbling around the place, refusing to take it easy. I don’t know much about what happened after we walked away from the woods. Well, I walked. Ryan limped, refusing to let me support him. He just wanted to hold my hand. The heroic move was stupid, and I told him so, though he didn’t listen.
Then a woman showed up, a formidable-looking creature, with dark hair and a crisp suit. She didn’t look happy, but I saw the wave of concern for Ryan past her steely exterior. A doctor followed shortly after. I wasn’t the only one who was utterly dumbfounded when Ryan ordered him to check me over first. The stubborn mule wouldn’t budge, either, not until I was cleaned and sewed up.
Jake followed in behind the doctor. His boots were covered with mud and leaves. I caught him shake his head at Ryan, not that Ryan paid much attention. And I heard him mumble a quiet, “All sorted.”
Ryan seemed to relax in that moment, allowing the doctor to tend to him. Me? I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the lengths Ryan has gone to in order to protect me. He drank half a bottle of scotch while the bullet was removed, fed to him by Jake. Then he slept for twelve hours straight. And the whole time he slept, I watched him, attempting to process everything that had happened. There was too much, and I scorned myself for even bothering to try. And when Ryan came around, he saw the worry I couldn’t shake off. He said everything would be okay. He promised me.
I believe him.
Now he’s plain grumpy, constantly getting annoyed with himself.
On an epic scowl—not at me, but at himself—he pushes his palms into the couch and starts to rise. “I’m coming,” he repeats, struggling to his feet.
I shoot up, far faster than him. “Ryan, you—”
His move is quick, but not without discomfort, and he grabs my chin, leveling me with the kind of Ryan look that I know means business. “I. Am. Coming.” He’s so determined. And really, I want him to come. I think I’m going to need the support.
“Okay,” I agree. “The taxi will be here in a minute.” I look down at his bare torso and the sweats that cover his bandaged leg. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
He takes my hand and kisses it, not saying anything. He just smiles, walking away slowly to change.
I wait until he’s in the bedroom before I move across to the window, looking out for the taxi. I reach up and blindly tweak my hair, seeing the cab emerge through the trees. My stomach flips upside down. “Taxi’s here!” I call.
* * *
My knee bobs up and down at a rapid rate until Ryan is forced to settle his hand there and apply pressure to push my adrenaline back. “I’m sorry.” I pull at my blouse, looking down my front, wondering if the huge sunflowers splattered all over it is too much. Too bright? Too loud? Too…alive?
I fold in on myself, my hope fading. And I pray again, pray that last week was just a little blip, that my mother’s fine and I’ll see her today. When the cab pulls up by the park, I crane my neck, trying to see beyond the gates, despite it being a little early. Ryan pays the fare, and I jump out, thoughtlessly leaving him to struggle behind me. I come to my senses when I hear a sharp “fuck” and swing around, rushing back to him.
“I’m fine,” he wheezes, his face bright red, pain etched over every inch of it.
“You’re not fine!” I snap, not meaning to sound so harsh, but, give me strength, he’s so fucking stubborn. “Why don’t you do as you’re damn well told for once in your damn life, Ryan Willis?”
He recoils, his face the epitome of Who the hell is this woman? “What exactly did you tell me to do?” he asks, pushing the door of the cab shut and unbending his body a little gingerly.
I falter for a beat, thinking. What did—? Oh yes. “I told you to stay at home.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t want to be away from you. So here I am. Every broken inch of me.” He grimaces and lays his hand over his wound.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, pouting guiltily.
“Like a motherfucker.” Releasing his thigh, he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “But I’ll live.”
And thank God for that. “Will you be grumpy forever, too?” I ask, letting him lead me to the gates. He’s endearing when he’s grumpy. Almost…sexy.
“Only when we’re apart, baby,” he says wistfully.
As we sit down together, he pulls me into his side and rests his mouth in my hair. And we wait for my sister, the world going by. I know he senses my growing despondency with each minute that passes and my mum and sister don’t show up, because his hold becomes firmer and firmer, to the point he must be in pain. But he sustains it, not that I’m in any position to stop him. I’m becoming more dejected by the second.
“They’re not coming,” I murmur dismally, willing myself to keep it together. I saw my mother’s face last week. It was ravaged, her complexion sallow and her eyes lifeless. I reach up to my heart when it twinges with pain, looking up to the heavens. Is she already there? I flinch, knowing that’s the best place she could be, free from pain, but that tiny, selfish side of me hopes that she has held out for just one more week.
Ryan holds me close as we watch everyone going about their business. Every time I see someone enter the park, my back straightens, hoping it’s them. And my heart splinters a little bit more when, each time, I register it isn’t.
“Hannah,” Ryan says eventually, feeling at my cheek, but keeping his chin resting on top of my head where it’s lying against his chest. “Baby, we’ve been here for over an hour.”
An hour? Where has that time gone? I nod into him, silently accepting that it is time to leave. To accept I won’t see her. But what now? What am I expected to do, just read every obituary until I find her?
“Let’s get a coffee,” Ryan suggests, making the first move to get up. I’m so lost in my haze of grief, I barely hear his sounds of pain now, my focus rigidly set on my devastation. He walks us to a nearby coffeehouse, guiding me the entire way, being my eyes and ears. I’m sure if he could manage, he would have picked me up and carried me here.
I find myself at a table and stare blankly at the chair in front of me, vaguely hearing Ryan in the background talking. He didn’t ask what I wanted to drink. Probably concluded there was no point.
A while later—I don’t know how long—Ryan is back. But he has no coffee. “Come,” he says, motioning for me to stand.
“I t
hought we were having coffee.”
“We’ll have coffee somewhere else.”
He applies a light pressure to the small of my back and pushes me on until I’m on the street and he’s leading me the wrong way. “Ryan?” I question, but he just keeps on walking, checking the road for traffic before he crosses us. “Ryan, please.”
He says nothing, his silence infuriating, until I’ve been dragged around a few corners and down a few streets.
Finally, I can’t stand it any longer. “Will you please just tell me where the hell we’re going?”
He stops, turns to face me, and points upward. “Here.”
I look up. And lose my breath. “What?” I shoot my stare back to him, looking for the confirmation I need that he’s lost his mind.
“I couldn’t sit by and do nothing.”
“What did you do?” I ask, terrified for his answer. I know my family is safe now, but they don’t need to be dragged into my mess. If the police ever ask questions, I don’t want them involved, not on any level. I also don’t want to ignite their pain. Or have to explain everything that I’ve been through. I’m better off dead to them.
“I called the home,” he says, his eyes like laser beams on mine. I lean back, wary of what comes next. “And asked them to have your sister call me.”
“Oh my God, Ryan.” I turn away, panicked. “I told you I couldn’t put them at risk. I told you they’re better off not knowing.” He didn’t listen to me. He didn’t respect my wishes.
“You have to trust me, Hannah. Your family are at no risk. But you are. If you don’t have this closure, you’ll never be able to move on. Not truly. You’ll always wonder, What if. I can’t let you do that to yourself.” He turns me back around to face him. “It’s the final bit of peace you need, Hannah. Let me give it to you, I beg you. You need it.”
“You spoke to my sister,” I mumble. “She knows I’m alive?”
He nods, and my mind blows further. I swing away from him, unable to think straight, and come face-to-face with…“Oh my God.” My hands cover my mouth, my legs giving out, forcing Ryan to lunge to save me from collapsing.
Leave Me Breathless Page 37
