by Holly Hart
“Begging me....” Wes frowns. “No. I don’t want that.” He jerks Kate to safety and pulls her close in one smooth motion. His gun comes up to graze her temple.
I breathe Kate’s name, so quiet I barely hear it myself, but Wes turns to face me all the same.
“Move aside. We’re leaving.”
“You know I can’t do that.” I take a cautious step forward. “It’s over. The cops are on their way. Even if you run, there’s nowhere to hide.”
“Then it’s no problem, right?”
“It is for her.” I tilt my head in Kate’s direction. “Look at her.”
Wes does: a long, adoring once-over. He smiles. Leans in like he’s going to kiss her. My stomach sours as he whispers in her ear. “What do you say, Kate? We going home?”
She nods, grimacing like she just smelled something rotten.
“See?” Wes strokes her hair with the barrel of his gun, a sick parody of comfort. Kate shudders and stumbles, knees buckling. She yelps in pain as Wes jerks her upright by the hair.
Carson drops to a crouch, aiming for Wes. “Drop your weapon.”
“You drop yours.”
“Come on, man. This is over. Me and Max—”
“You and Max don’t matter.” He laughs, high and unnatural. “Kate and I, we’re leaving together. Out that door or into the next life, it’s all the same to me.” His heel bumps the shallow step that marks the edge of the roof. “Which’ll it be?”
Carson twitches. Squares his shoulders. If he fires now—
I turn to Wes. “He drops his gun, you take five steps my way. Deal?”
Wes snorts. “He doesn’t drop his gun, I take one step that way.” He glances behind him, eyes alight with despair, glee, terror—I can’t tell which.
Kate shifts in his arms, trying to catch his eye. “Wes. Please. You love me, right? If you mean that—if you care for me at all—”
He nuzzles at her hair. “It’s all been for you.”
“Then let me go.” She caresses his face, flinching as he leans into it. “You’ve been hurting so bad over Kyle. Think how much worse it would be, knowing I’d never wake up, never smile, never—”
“I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.” He hops up on the ledge, dragging her with him.
“No! Wait!”
Wes pulls her close, crushing her to his chest. “The two of us. Forever.”
Kate closes her eyes. “The—the three of us.”
“What?”
“You’d be killing my baby, too.” She looks up at him, beseeching. “You wouldn’t do that. Would you?”
“Your baby? You’re—” He looks my way, thunder in his eyes.
She isn’t. Can’t be. This is a ruse, a—
“You’re pregnant? By him?” Wes finally lets her go, with a shove that sends her to her knees. He strides after her, gun to the back of her head, as she crawls on all fours. I break out in a cold sweat. He wouldn’t execute her like that, pregnant, begging, gravel cutting into her knees. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
A nasty smile splits his face. “The perfect valedictorian, knocked up by the grunting jock.... How cliché can you get?”
“We’re not in high school any more.” Kate turns to face her death. “Look at Max. Look at me. What do you see?”
“A mouth-breather and his whore.”
“Wes.”
I edge a little closer. Wes doesn’t so much as glance my way. His attention’s all on Kate—if looks could kill, she’d be dust.
“Wes. This isn’t you.”
“Isn’t it?” His arm stiffens: he’s about to fire. Preparing for the recoil. I do a quick sidestep, and another—I need thirty seconds. Half a minute to get behind him. Carson catches my eye, nodding minutely. We’ve got this.
“Don’t you remember when you came to me in London?” Kate shuffles forward on her knees, forehead nearly kissing the muzzle of his gun. “My heart was broken, and you glued it back together. I’d be nowhere without you. Nowhere at all.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Somehow, she finds it in her to smile. “You saved me. That’s who you are. This cold-blooded act—it’s not real, is it?”
Wes adjusts his grip, Adam’s apple bobbing. “No.”
“We can still leave together, if you want.”
He swallows fitfully. He’s trembling, finger twitching on the trigger. One false move—one slip, and she’s finished. “We—you’d still want that?”
“Give me your hand. We’ll go right now.”
Wes backs away, shaking his head. “I don’t—I don’t....” He looks like a kicked dog being offered a bone, cowering and salivating at once. “You made a mistake. With Max.” His finger twitches again. “But that’s—It’s just one more for the list, right?” He smiles again, shaky and uncertain. “I’ll raise it as my own?”
The thought of Wes with my baby, with Kate, has my stomach crawling up my throat. I sidle around him, slowly, slowly, avoiding the remains of a decaying trellis. A few more steps....
“Never thought of being a father.”
“You’ll be a great one.” Kate beams at him. “Help me up. Your car’s waiting, right?”
“Out front.” Wes lowers his gun—not enough. He’s aiming for her belly. I’m close enough to make a move, but an accident now—fuck, no.
He extends his hand. Kate takes it, squeezes it tight. Wes’s expression melts into something soft and dreamy—and then he’s pitching forward; she’s pulling him down, rolling to the side, and this is it. I dive for him.
“No! Get off!”
I pin him to the gravel, elbow between his shoulder blades. He’s like a minnow in my grasp, squirming and flopping, turning over on his back. He’s spitting with hate, hissing curses through bared teeth. I spot Carson pounding toward us, gravel crunching under his boots. We’ve got him—we’ve got him. “Hold still.”
Wes wails like a thwarted toddler. He bucks and kicks, tries to work his pistol free. I keep my knee on his wrist: not today.
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t want to hear it.”
He howls again and lunges for me, teeth sinking into my cheek. His head jerks from side to side, and the agony, that ripping, rending—
“Augh! Fuck!”
He’s tearing into me, gnawing like a zombie. I’m bleeding, and copiously; he’s making a hole in me. I can hear it—Christ, that sound, like wet cloth coming apart! I pound on his back. Kate’s kicking him, too. I can feel the blows through his body. Wes seems beyond pain, immune to fear. He’s making a sound I’ve never heard before, rough and inhuman, somewhere between a snarl and a gurgle. When he lets go, I fall back involuntarily, holding my wounded face.
“Max! Look out!”
A shot rings out. I look down at my body. Nothing. I—
Wes whirls on Carson. “You shot at me?”
“Don’t.” Carson falls back, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “Shoot me, and you’ll never see Kate again.”
Wes hesitates. “Then go. Leave us. Both of you.”
I seize him by the collar and whirl him around, letting him go as he careens toward the edge. Wes screams and drops his gun, windmilling desperately, but it’s too late. He flounders, trips over the cornice, and he’s gone. The wind distorts his cry of despair, and then that’s gone, too, cut off abruptly, and—
“Ssh. Hey. Come here.”
I turn around. Kate gathers me into her arms. I’m sobbing, great dry gasps that yield no relief.
“It’s all right. You had to. He’d have killed someone.”
I bury my face in her hair, fighting for control. Can’t go to pieces, not now.
“Uh...guys?” Carson’s kneeling on the gravel, holding Wes’s gun. “This is—” He points it at me. Squeezes the trigger. It clicks like a ballpoint pen.
Kate inhales sharply. “It’s not loaded?”
“It’s not even real.” He tosses it aside. It bounces. Plastic. Wes held us all hostage with a toy.
“
We killed him for nothing.” Kate’s cold to the touch. I rub her arms, shivering myself. It’s freezing up here, windy and exposed.
“It wasn’t for nothing.” I slip out of my jacket and help Kate into it. “We had no way of knowing. And if it had been real—”
A siren starts up, somewhere close. Someone must’ve called in Carson’s warning shot. I pull myself together, wiping blood off my face. “Carson. Find his laptop. His phone, if he didn’t have it with him. Get it out of here. Me and Kate—we’ll wait for the cops.”
Carson nods and jogs off down the fire escape. Moments later, I hear breaking glass.
“What are we going to say?” Kate huddles against me, fists curled in my shirt.
“The truth, near as possible. They already know Wes kidnapped you. I’ll say I tracked you here and charged in without thinking, and the rest—we thought he had a gun.”
“Self-defense?”
“That’s what it was.” I rock her in my arms, as much for my own comfort as hers. I can still hear his dying scream. I’ll never get it out of my head, not if I live to a hundred and five.
“Max?”
“Mm?”
“It was true, what I said before.”
What she said—wait. The baby? It wasn’t a ploy? My heart leaps with fierce and sudden joy, even as my head tells me not to dream. My mouth gets ahead of both of them—“You mean you’re pregnant? Really? And it’s mine?” I hardly dare hope, but what else could it be?
“Yes.”
I pull back. It feels wrong to smile, much less grin, but I can’t stop myself. “You’re pregnant.” I thumb a smudge of dirt off her cheek. “And it’s mine. And you’re sure?” I have to hear it again.
“Four tests don’t leave much room for doubt.”
Four.... It’s true? My blood’s singing in my ears. I lean in and kiss her, hard and demanding. “I won’t let anything happen to you. We’re going to be fine. No matter what.”
Kate’s hand drifts up to cover mine. “When you say it like that, I believe you.”
“I have something for you.” I reach for my breast pocket and laugh. She’s wearing my jacket. “Look in my wallet, inside pocket. There’s a blue envelope.”
I hold my breath as she takes a cautious peek. Her eyes widen as she sees what’s inside. “From our wedding?” She runs her finger along the yellowed lace. For the first time, I look at it and smile—that old, torn scrap of veil.
“It can be your ‘something old.’ At our real wedding.”
Tires screech down below. One siren cuts out as another swells. Kate tucks the lace away, careful not to wrinkle it. “Won’t that be bad luck?”
“No. It’ll be...the fulfilment of a promise.” I enfold both her hands in mine. “You picked that out thinking of our future. A future we’re free to take back.” They’re coming up the stairs now, heavy boots on the landing. I look into Kate’s eyes, heart pounding. “You want to, right?”
“Of course I do.” She steps into my embrace. “There was never a moment I didn’t. Remember that. No matter what.”
The door flies open. I let her go, turning to face the music. Beside me, Kate’s already sinking to her knees, hands over her head.
One last ordeal, and we’re free.
Chapter 55
Kate
* * *
I’m not sure whether I’m holding Max up or vice versa, but I’ve never been so tired in my life. The stairs loom like Mount Everest, and it’d be so easy to lie down, press my cheek to the marble, and....
“Home....” Max sinks to his knees. I burst out laughing as he kisses the floor. He looks up at me, eyes alight with mirth. “We made it. I think we’re honestly in the clear.”
“We are, aren’t we?” I kneel beside him and run my fingers through his hair. “That one cop, though—the older one, with the—” I run my finger across the bridge of my nose, indicating a scar. “For a moment, there, I was positive he knew something. He brought up high school with this knowing look, and my stomach was like....”
“I know!” Max sobers up, wiping at his eyes. “God, my head’s spinning. Haven’t slept in...what time is it?”
“Five o’clock.”
“Shit. That’s exactly thirty-six hours I’ve been awake.”
“Yeah, well. Your alarm clock woke me, too.” I slump against him, weak and delirious. “I mean, Wes drugged me for a few hours in there, but I’m not sure that counts.”
I feel the gooseflesh break out on Max’s arm. “He didn’t touch you, did he? While you were—?”
“No.” My own scalp prickles. “Makes a weird kind of sense, when you think about it. His whole fetish was being catered to. He’d have needed—I’d have had to be—”
“Mmph. Let’s... New subject, huh?” Max grunts and scrambles to his feet, pulling me with him. “Let’s take a shower, scrub him off us, and try to forget. Just for a while. Till we’re, y’know. Conscious enough to start dealing with....” He flaps his hands lamely, out of words.
“Shower sounds good. Stairs, not so much.” I pull him in the direction of the downstairs bathroom, already anticipating steam and hot water, the herbal scent of Max’s shampoo. I’ll make him scrub my back. Loofah me all over. “Oh. Wait. Your stitches—aren’t you supposed to wait?” I reach up to touch his face, bandaged where Wes tried to make a meal of him.
“Ugh. Fuck that.” He rubs at the wound. “I’ll just, like...stick ten of those waterproof Band Aids on it. A whole row of ‘em. That ought to do the trick.”
“Sure. Why not?”
Max snickers, a little hysterically. “I can live without my face. Can’t live without a shower.”
“You can live without your face?”
“Mm-hm.” He flings open the bathroom door. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
I grapple with the collar of my shirt, fat-fingered with exhaustion. The fabric rips as I run out of patience. My shirt slides off my shoulders and I move on to my skirt, pushing it down over my hips. Next thing I know, Max is guiding me into the cubicle, warm hands on my hips, naked body pressed against mine. I lean into him, luxuriating in his closeness and the drumming of the water.
“Oh, that’s better.” Max turns me to face him, swallowing a yawn. I tilt my head back, closing my eyes against the spray. His lips brush mine, and I kiss him back. He’s alive—we’re both alive, and this is over. I let my hands wander, up his sides and down his back, over that firm ass of his. He’s exploring me, too, touch lingering on my hips and belly, though I’m not showing yet. I catch him by the wrist when a sneaky finger trails up my inner thigh.
“Really? Now?”
He shifts to let me feel his erection. “Now and always.” He chuckles. “Slippery, sleepy shower sex... What’s not to like?”
What, indeed? I close my eyes and lean back against the tiles, drifting in a pleasant stupor as Max worships my body. Every sensation feels amplified, in my raw, unguarded state, powerful but distant, like I’m watching from outside my body. Tiny tremors and thrills chase each other up my spine, down my arms, to the tips of my fingers. My breath comes fast and shallow, leaving me lightheaded. I hear myself moaning his name as Max’s lips follow the line of my hip, slow and teasing, to my slit.
My hands flutter down, clumsy and loose, to stroke his hair. Even the familiar texture’s fascinating, and I run my fingers over the short hairs at the nape of his neck. I feel his shiver through his tongue, a subtle vibration on my clit, and tickle his shoulders to make him do it again.
By the time he’s working his way back up my body, I’m both half-asleep and aching for the heat of skin on skin. I feel it with the fevered intensity of a dream when he gives me what I need, pulling me into his arms with such possessive strength. I cling to him; his skin’s so hot, every inch of him against every inch of me, fat drops of water chasing each other down our bodies.
Two fingers find my lower lip, and I suck and nip, savoring the salt taste. His other hand’s twined with mine, like he neve
r wants to let go. I squeeze him tight—neither do I.
“Need you inside me.”
He groans deep in his chest. “Now?”
“Right now.” I part my legs and he makes it happen—one thrust, and he’s filling me, throbbing inside me. In my mind, I’m begging for more, and maybe out loud, too, because he gets the message, rocking against me, sharp snaps of his hips interspersed with long, leisurely strokes. I feel it all, electricity in my belly, sizzling and sparking till my eyes dance with fireworks and I’m barely keeping my feet.
Max’s hand’s migrated to my shoulder, and I realize he’s as shaky as I am, clutching me and the shower wall to stay upright. I wrap my free arm around his waist, holding him so tight we’re barely moving. He’s grinding, now, more than thrusting, and I can feel his cock twitch and swell inside of me. His breath’s warm on my neck, harsh little puffs, like he’s close. I am, too—wasn’t sure I even could, like this, but I need it, want it—I’m lost in it.
Max turns my head so he can claim my lips, kiss after kiss. It’s rough and fumbling, not gentle in the least, but I can’t get enough of it. I kiss him back ravenously, even as a moan catches in my throat, climax crashing through me in a slow, inexorable wave, like my body’s too tired to feel it all at once. My skin feels hot; my limbs go boneless, and Max catches me in his arms as my feet go out from under me, at last.
As though from a great distance, I hear him shout, feel him buck against me, as he follows me to his peak, and then we’re sliding down the wall, coming to rest in an undignified heap, him sprawled in the corner, me across his lap. Max pulls my head down to his shoulder. His lips graze my temple, and I sigh, leaning back in his arms to let the water wash our sins away.
“We’re here. Both of us—really still here.” He finds my hand again, clasping it in both of his. “Tell me you love me.”
“Always.” I bump my forehead against his. “So much.”
I let my thoughts wander—to our long-ago wedding, to the first time I saw him again. To that night in DC, and everything we’ve been through since. To Wes. “You don’t think he’ll say anything, do you? If he wakes up?”
