by Gwyn McNamee
Gabe drives like a Formula 1 driver, weaving around other cars, blowing past them like they’re barely moving. Danika and Matteo continue to argue about how much Paul told her and what her editor at the paper knows. She stands her ground, and despite my fear and anger at her for getting into this situation, I’m actually proud of her.
“I told you,” she replies for the tenth time. “I never told anyone about the story, and Paul never told me anything.”
“Well, we already know you’re lying about Paul, so why should I believe you about anything?” Matteo asks, his voice growing louder. The thought of that man getting closer to Danika makes my skin crawl.
I vaguely hear Gabe telling the police we are three blocks from the Olde Market.
Three blocks.
It might as well be three miles. He tears around corners at warp speed, slamming me into the door as we pull onto Riverside Drive. He stops the car several yards behind Danika’s.
“Why does it matter what you believe?” she asks, her voice strong and steady, even though she’s no doubt terrified. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”
Gabe’s head whips around when he hears that and he jumps out of the car, grabs his rifle, and tosses me his cell phone. “Keep the police updated. They should be right behind us.” I nod and watch him disappear into the darkness.
I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I know it’s something I can’t even fathom. As long as it gets Dani out of there safely, I don’t care.
“What makes you so sure we’re going to kill you?” Matteo asks.
I can picture the sneer on his face as he taunts her.
“You didn’t lure me to an abandoned building, show up with two of your goons, and interrogate me about my story just to let me walk away.”
Two goons? She’s telling us how many men there are.
I get on Gabe’s phone and relay the information to the dispatcher just as two squad cars and a SWAT vehicle pull up behind me.
Matteo’s maniacal laugh pours from the phone. “You’re smarter than you look, Ms. Eriksson. I shouldn’t be wasting all our time.”
Boom.
A single gunshot rings out, the blast echoing through the phone and going straight to my heart.
My heart stops.
The piercing ring of the gunshot reverberates in my ears and through my chest.
Matteo only fired a shot in the air—a warning shot or maybe to try to scare the shit out of me—but it could just as easily have been in my head.
I have no clue why he didn’t just kill me, but the smile on his face tells me he enjoyed scaring me almost as much as he would have enjoyed leaving my dead body here.
Sadistic fuck!
Somehow, I manage to school my features—letting this man know he terrifies me would be a colossal mistake.
“Now, Ms. Eriksson, let’s stop dancing around the issue and get down to business. You and I both know that I need to know what sort of documentation you kept regarding your meetings with Paul, where those notes are located, and who has access to them. You may be telling me the truth about not telling anyone about your story, but we both know you wouldn’t start investigating a story like this without meticulously documenting every single thing your source revealed.”
Shit. Matteo is smarter than I gave him credit for.
I figured he was just another goon, another meathead Abello used for muscle and intimidation. Apparently, he has some intelligence. It must be why Abello trusts him so much.
My eyes flicker between the two other men standing behind Paul, just to the left of me. Now, these two, who haven’t spoken a word, are clearly just muscle, but not Matteo.
Maybe I can appeal to his intelligence to buy more time. I know if that call stayed connected, Savage will come for me. He has to.
Stall.
“All right, if I tell you everything Paul told me, and where you can find my notes, will you let me go?”
Of course they won’t.
I know that. But, I need to keep him talking and I’m not above playing the blonde bimbo if I need to.
He smirks at me, and the evil glint in his eyes reminds me of a cat toying with a mouse caught under its paw. He knows he has the upper hand, but he enjoys his job too much to end this quickly. He’s also too smart to kill me before he’s sure he has every single piece of evidence relating to his boss.
“If I did let you go, what sort of guarantee would I have that you won’t immediately run to the police, or the media, and reveal everything anyway?”
“You would have my word.”
Matteo drops his head back and his dark laughter echoes throughout the empty warehouse. The two goons join him, though I doubt they have any idea what he’s laughing at.
“Oh, Ms. Eriksson, it really is too bad we had to meet under these circumstances, because, frankly, I think I really like you.”
Use it.
“I agree. Another day, another time, things might have been different.” I take a step closer to him. Maybe he’s dumb enough to fall for it, and maybe, just maybe, I can get my hand on his gun before I end up dead.
He eyes me suspiciously and steps to the side, closer to Paul and his goons.
Why the hell does he have to be the only smart evil henchman in history?
“Unfortunately, Ms. Eriksson, I have my orders, so let’s not make this any harder than it has to be. Give me what I need, and I will end this quickly. If you don’t, I’ll have to make this very unpleasant for you.”
“I can handle pain,” I say with fake boldness, but my body is screaming for me to run. I’m sure Matteo knows ways to inflict pain I can’t even imagine and there’s no way I want to find out. But revealing information from a source is also not an option.
I never thought I’d actually be in this position. My stories aren’t the kind someone receives death threats for, let alone ends up with a maniacal asshole pointing a gun at them. Paul should have stayed away. He should have trusted his gut and put as many miles between himself and the Abello crew as he could. But he came back, because of me, because I pushed and pushed and pushed and made promises I couldn’t fucking keep.
Why did I have to push so hard to break this damn story?
If I had never started my probe into Mayor Dunne, and discovered the apparent Abello connection, none of this would be happening. So what if Dunne took some bribes and gave away some contracts? So what if he may have had some help from Abello in disposing of unwanted rivals and inconvenient speed bumps to his political climb?
None of it directly affected me. None of it interfered with my ability to live my life and do my job. Damn me and my ambition. Damn the journalistic integrity that prevented me from turning a blind eye to the apparent corruption. I thought I could make a difference; I thought I could actually change things.
All I’ve managed to do is put my life, as well as Paul’s, in danger, and I still don’t even have any actionable evidence.
Complete. Utter. Miserable. Failure.
Matteo barks out another laugh at my false bravado and steps closer to Paul, who has remained silently shaking near to me. “Well, maybe you need a little reminder of what I’m capable of.”
In a split second, his gun goes from down at his side to the back of Paul’s head and he fires.
I cry out when the second shot rings out through the phone and in the air outside. The first time Matteo fired, I swear my heart stopped.
Everything I had dreamed of for my future, everything I had dreamed of for a future with Danika, disappeared in a millisecond.
Until I heard Danika’s voice again, I thought for sure we were too late. It had apparently just been a warning shot, but Matteo just said he wanted to remind her what he was capable of…
Images of her lying in pools of her own blood, her eyes wide and lifeless flash across my vision, mingling with the memories of Star’s death. That’s been happening a lot lately, ever since Doc got me talking about the accident. The visions, the nightmares, things I had someh
ow managed to push out of my head after the accident—all of it came crashing down like a tidal wave.
And now, I might lose Danika.
No. I can’t.
The officer standing outside my open door says something to me, but I don’t hear it over the rush of blood in my ears. I’m listening for anything over the line, any indication at all of what has happened, but the line is dead.
“Oh God!” I scream and drop the phone on the seat next to me, dropping my head in my hands as the tears stream from my eyes. I can’t do this. I can’t.
Three sharp cracks ring out and I turn my head to the officer who has turned back to look toward the building. His walkie squawks and garbled words race out in an indistinguishable stream. He responds and starts to walk away from me toward one of the police vehicles.
“No,” I cry, grabbing his arm, “what’s happening? Is Danika all right?”
He pulls my hand from his arm. “She’s okay. Your friend really knows how to take care of business.”
His words don’t immediately register. All I hear is that Dani’s okay, and, at this moment, that’s all that matters. Then I realize he said something else.
“What? What do you mean?” The officer doesn’t answer me and turns to speak with another officer, putting his back to me. I look past him toward the warehouse and see several dark figures moving around. A flood light spills out from the SWAT vehicle parked behind me and in the bright florescent lights, Gabe emerges from the building with someone cradled in his arms.
Danika.
My heart beats out of my chest and I can’t seem to get any oxygen in my lungs as I watch Gabe stride across the parking lot toward the parade of vehicles along the street. The flashing lights of the squad cars, ambulances, and fire trucks paint strange colors across his stern face. Every step he takes seems to last for an eternity.
I’ve never felt more helpless in my entire life. Not even when I was laying in that hospital bed being told I lost the use of my legs. Nothing compares to the agony of watching and waiting, knowing there’s nothing I can do.
The closer he comes, the more anxious I get.
I should have been in there. I should have been the one who saved her.
She has to be okay.
As they approach the fence-line, I notice her tan trench coat is streaked in something dark.
Blood.
She’s not okay…
My vision blurs and my head swims and I struggled to keep my shit together. Gabe moves through the opening the police cut in the fence and makes his way toward the car.
Her arms are wrapped around Gabe’s neck and her face is turned into him, obscuring my view and preventing me from seeing her like I need to. The officer who has been standing near the car steps away to make room, and Gabe steps into the open door next to me.
“Savage.”
I know he’s talking to me; I hear his words. But answering him is out of the question. My voice is caught in my throat.
She isn’t moving. She’s covered in blood and she isn’t moving.
“Savage, snap out of it.” He nudges my shoulder and I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of panic that has overtaken me. “She’s okay,” he says, leaning into the car with her, “it’s not her blood.”
Not her blood.
I should have known that. If she’d been hurt, the paramedics would have taken her immediately. Apparently, logic flies out the window in these situations.
He starts to lower her into my lap but she cries out and grips his neck, clinging to him. “No, no, please don’t…please…”
Her cries make my heart shatter all over again. She’s clinging to Gabe for comfort—not me. And why shouldn’t she? He’s the one who saved her, who risked his life to make sure she was safe.
While I sat here, fucking useless…
Gabe pulls his head away from hers and cups her face in one of his palms. “Danika, look, it’s Savage.” He turns her to look at me and her wide, red eyes meet mine. She practically leaps from his arms trying to get to me. He helps lower her into the car and she climbs into my lap, latching her arms around my neck and sobbing against my shoulder, her whole body violently shaking with each breath she tries to take.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re safe.” I run my hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her, but nothing I do seems to help. Her despair is complete; she’s inconsolable.
I hold her for what feels like an eternity before an officer approaches and tells Gabe he needs to talk to the sergeant. Gabe nods to me and disappears.
Another officer approaches almost immediately.
“Mr. Hawke, we need to take Ms. Eriksson to get checked out by the paramedics.”
She stiffens in my arms, her grip on my neck tightening.
“Can that wait?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. They need to see her right now.”
“Danika, baby, you need to go…”
“NO!” She screams and finally pulls back from my neck, allowing me to see her face fully for the first time in almost two months. Fear overpowers her beautiful features, her eyes so wide and terrified, I can’t see any of the stunning blue that normally gazes back at me. “Please, no, don’t leave me.”
I capture her face in my hands and smooth my thumbs over her blood-spattered cheeks. “Danika, baby, they need to look at you to make sure you’re okay. I am not going anywhere. They will bring you right back to me.”
She shakes her head vigorously, tears streaming down her face, her fingers digging into my shirt and clutching at it frantically. “No, please, don’t make me go.”
I glance over at the officer, who gives me a sympathetic look, but it’s clear she has to go, no matter how much she might protest.
“Can I go with her?” She buries her face against my neck, sobs racking her body again, and I know no matter what the answer is, I can’t leave her again, not for anything.
He nods. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Thank you. Can you get my chair from the trunk please?”
He looks momentarily confused, then glances down at my legs and back up to my face.
“Oh, uh, sure.” He disappears around the back of the car. I pull Danika’s face away from my shoulder. Her bottom lip trembles and tears still stream down her cheeks, but her breathing has returned somewhat to normal.
“Baby, I am going to go with you, okay? But you need to go with the officer, so I can get out of the car.”
Her eyes are glazed over and I’m not one hundred percent sure she understands what I’m saying, but she nods anyway. When the officer returns, she allows him to help her out of the car. The second I’m seated in my chair, she lunges at me, curling herself back into a ball on my lap.
The officer just points in the direction of the ambulance and I follow him over there, Danika seemingly oblivious we are even moving.
She’s in shock.
How could she not be, after what just happened?
We go through the same routine when the paramedics try to get her off my lap to do their exam. I finally convince her to get onto the gurney, but only because I promise to not move and hold her hand the entire time.
She has several scrapes along the right side of her face, but no other visible injuries. I hear the paramedics say something about shock, but I concentrate on squeezing her hand to let her know I’m here.
When the sergeant approaches and tells us we need to go the station to give a statement, she collapses into a fit of hysterics again.
I want nothing more than to bring her home and just hold her, show her I am not going anywhere, but there’s no way we are getting out of going to the station. She cries against my neck the entire ride there, her body shaking and her breath hitching with every sob. My already-pummeled emotions are running wild, and I can barely keep myself in check. The only thing keeping me from completely falling apart is knowing Danika needs me.
The interview at the police station drags on for four
agonizing hours. Listening to Danika recount her ordeal in excruciating detail had my stomach roiling and my hands stinging from clenching them throughout her story.
When she described Matteo blowing off Paul’s head and his body falling onto her, knocking her to the ground and pinning her under him, I could barely stop myself from grabbing her arm and pulling her from that room to end her distress.
I know they needed to know what happened—every gory detail—but watching her in so much anguish killed me. Now, as we finally approach my building, she’s once again clinging to me, her warm breath puffing across my neck and cheek. I know she isn’t asleep. I can feel her lashes fluttering against my skin as she blinks away her tears.
No one has said a word since we left the station.
They let Gabe go.
Thank God.
Anyone else who shot three people in the head with a sniper rifle would probably spend several days in jail while there was an investigation, at least, and may be prosecuted, at worst. But with Gabe’s background, family connections, and the circumstances, I can’t say I’m surprised it was easy for him to get released immediately.
His eyes lock with mine in the rearview mirror and I see the same darkness there I remember from when he returned from one of his many deployments. He doesn’t like killing, and I know he suffered when he had to do it.
In the past, he’s always been very good at hiding it from people—everyone except me. I don’t know how I didn’t know he was seeing a shrink. I guess I just figured he was dealing with his demons in his own way, but I’m glad he did. Otherwise, he would have ended up even more fucked up than he already is.
We pull into our building’s underground parking. The moment the car stops moving, Danika shifts in my arms and leans back, looking around to see where we are. “We’re home, baby,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers gently.
Home. My home. Not hers.
Fuck, I want it to be her home.
I want her here, with me, where she belongs. Here, where I can love her, and protect her.
