I bit my lip and held his gaze. I could look at those eyes forever.
"Tell me," he whispered. A demand, laced in softness. "It's not hard, sweetheart. Just say the words."
Did he know? Had he already worked it out? How had I given myself away? I'd only just realised it myself.
"What do you mean?" I stalled.
And received that one sided smile of his that let me know he'd seen through the act.
"Tell me," he repeated, same tone of tenderness, which seemed to pull at my insides.
Had he railed at me, had he had even a hint of an edge to his voice, I could have fought back. But this affection, this caring, this patient but knowing tone. It did something to me. It pulled, and tugged, and urged me on.
"Tell me," he said again, this time reaching over and grasping my hand. He began stroking the back of it, one thumb, as his fingers kept me trapped.
"Drew," I warned, but of what I did not know.
There was no fight left in me, he'd stripped me bare. He'd opened my eyes, shattered my illusions, and doused me in a rainbow of light. He'd changed my world.
"Tell me."
"I.." I started.
"Tell me." It was so quiet, almost a plea. Consistent, determined, but gentle as the softest touch from a lover's hand.
Oh, fuck it all to hell.
"I've fallen in love with you," I whispered. "I think that you might be..."
Another incomplete sentence.
"The one," he offered, and I ducked my head in embarrassment. This was so new, so terrifying, so fucking scary it was almost red. "Sweetheart," he whispered, moving until he had me wrapped up in his arms. "I've known for a while now that you are my 'one.'"
He kissed my cheek, my temple, in amongst my hair. "I love you, Kelly Quayle," he whispered against my skin. "All of you. The red, the black, and every single part of the rest. I love you."
"Drew," I said, a smile reaching my lips at last.
"Say it," he demanded, again in that soft, tender plea.
It was easier than I could have ever imagined. "I love you too."
We stared at each other, both of us a little shocked. This was it. Our one and only 'first time' of revealing our love for each other. In the cloakroom of the District Court. And it couldn't have been more perfect.
He smiled.
I smiled.
And then a series of loud, explosive and deafening cracks of thunder went off, just the other side of the door.
Chapter 18
I Just Hoped It Was A Worthy Offering
We both jumped, still cuddled on the floor underneath a row of hanging jackets.
"What the fuck was that?" I whispered, but almost shrieked as several more staccato bangs sounded out on the other side of the wall. There was screaming now, and the sound of those explosive cracks seemed too close. Seemed only a foot or two away. I shied even further into the corner at the back of the cloakroom, shaking, trembling, unable to catch my breath.
Drew surrounded me, curved his body over mine as though to shield, pressed me tightly into the corner of the room while the world outside our once beautiful hideaway fell apart in a flourish of bangs and crashes and cries of fear and pain.
Oh, fucking hell. What was going on?
It lasted for what felt like several minutes, but possibly was much less. I kept repeating inside my head, please let it stop, please let it stop, please let it stop. I didn't dare think about who was being hurt, who those terrible cries of anguish and fright belonged to. I didn't dare let my imagination join the dots.
I covered my ears, I huddled shamefully in the corner of the cloakroom, and I pretended the explosions and shouts were coming from an action movie on a TV screen out in the foyer of the building we were in.
I could hear Drew's ragged breathing; fast, uneven, shallow. I could feel his whole body tense. He didn't stroke my arm, or soothe me with a soft caress. He was just as shit-scared as me. Quaking, trembling, waiting for it all to end. My eyes were closed, but no matter what I did I couldn't detach from those wretched sounds. My head hurt, my body ached, my heart caused spasms of agony through my chest. Everything was so taut, so on edge, so close to snapping, and we weren't even out there. We were hidden, I could only hope, relatively safe.
Finally the explosions stopped, only to be replaced with a siren. An alarm going off in the building itself, but also the distant sound of emergency vehicles from outside. Thank God, the Police were here. They'd sort this out.
Drew straightened, reached around and cupped my face, turning me so I could see the desperate look in his eyes.
"Where's your cellphone?" he demanded.
I reached into my trouser pocket and found my faithful phone, somehow always managing to stick with me no matter what activities I undertook. I pulled it out and held it up.
"Turn it to silent," he instructed, obviously doing the same to his. I followed his lead, he seemed to be more in control of his faculties than me.
"What's going on?" I whispered, as he hadn't raised his voice above a low murmur yet.
"Fucked if I know, but those sounded like guns going off."
I sucked in a breath of air and just stared at him. I knew he was right, that pop-pop-pop sound, interspersed with loud cracks and bangs and the screams of many people. It was guns. Lots of guns. Bullets were flying out there.
"They're still inside the building, Kelly," Drew added. "We aren't safe yet."
Loud shouts started out in the foyer, confirming Drew's words. Orders from gruff, urgent voices. Drew's head shot around and stared at the door to the room. He swore under his breath, his eyes darting all over the space we were in. I had no idea what he was looking for, but he seemed almost beside himself now.
"Stand up," he urged, helping me to my feet.
He started pushing some of the jackets around on the racks, carefully so as not to make noise. Choosing a couple of longer coats, he moved them down the back of the rack. He repeated the process on the other side. Then turned to look at me.
I had never seen that look on Drew’s face before. He could be quite an expressive man. But this... this fear was real. Gut clenching, viscerally real. He was scared out of his wits... for me.
"What will they do if they find us?" I found myself asking.
Again a head shake, but I could guess. They'd stormed in here with enough fire power to obliterate the security at the doors and, no doubt, down by the lifts. There had probably been more security in the building too, which had come running as soon as it started. From the length and sheer volume of the assault, I couldn't believe any of them had survived.
These people would simply kill us to get what they wanted inside.
"It's OK," Drew whispered, this time I shook my head. "We're going to hide. But they will check in here, Kelly. I can hear them getting close, they're doing a sweep of the foyer now."
I could hear them too, the rough instructions to clear the floor, brace the doors, and lock the fucking place down. Security guards didn't talk like that. The bad guys had won and were determined no one was left alive to stop them now.
"In the corner," Drew urged, walking me down to where he'd hung several longer, floor length coats. "Stand straight, don't move, and not a sound." Unnecessary instructions, but from the look on his face I wasn't holding it together well. "I'm going to be across the way, doing the same thing. They'll come in here, check the place is empty, and then leave. After that, we'll find a way out."
I nodded. I could see the truth behind his beautiful eyes. We weren't going to survive this.
Drew gave me one last, long look, then covered me up with the jackets. I heard him take his place across the room, in the opposite rear corner. The soft, muted sound of his jackets being pulled into place followed. I looked down at my feet, hidden in shadows. But I was sure they could be seen if someone got down on their knees and looked under the coats. Just like a toilet stall. And, of course, to be thorough, they'd just yank the coats aside and peer behind, finding us stand
ing there.
My heart thundered, I literally couldn't hear a thing outside of the pounding in my head. My mind skittered over stupid, irrelevant things. Like Gen and Dom's wedding, scheduled for this weekend. The fact I'd be missing the final dress fitting this afternoon. The baby.
My arm snaked around my middle, holding the terror inside, and I forced my knuckles into my mouth to stop from moaning in fear.
No noise, not a sound. I had to stay quiet.
My body shook, the small chain I wear as a bracelet rattled against my watch. I fumbled to move the jewellery apart. Sweat soaked my skin, trickled down my back. I wanted to scratch at it, then thought it felt more like hundreds of ants crawling over my flesh, rather than perspiration dribbling down my spine.
Bile reached my tongue as I strained to hear footsteps approach.
Any moment now.
I breathed through my mouth, trying in vain to keep the breaths shallow and quiet. I was sure I sounded like a freight train in the eerie silence of the cloakroom. I hoped the clothing muffled any sounds that I made.
I am not here.
I am not here.
Footsteps stopped outside the door, muffled voices, indistinct words.
I am not here.
I am not here.
The handle on the door turned, then when a crack was made, the voices wafted in.
"Check all the rooms and clear them. I don't want us caught unawares from behind."
The accent was strange, a mix of Kiwi and something else.
"Copy," a closer voice said. Military, clipped.
The door creaked as he moved it. I hadn’t been aware it had a creak when we'd rushed in here before. Had that just happened today? Half an hour ago? It felt like a lifetime ago. This was a different world than the one I woke up in. How fucking cruel to make me believe in something and then steal it away. Again.
The pain was crippling. I didn't want to lose what I'd found. The new me, the new Kelly Quayle. Drew.
Please, God.
Jackets were pushed aside roughly, the screech of their hangers scraping across the pole above my head made me grit my teeth. He was getting closer. There was no fucking way he'd not find us in the end.
I started praying. Honest to God prayers. That I'd be a better person. That I'd never touch a drop of alcohol again. That I'd become a nun, dedicate my life to the poor. That I'd give up everything I'd come to love, in order for us both to survive this day.
I'm not particularly religious, my life has not been compatible with those beliefs. Why would a God make your father change to such a degree that he leaves you, spurns you, kicks you when you're down? Why would a God make your mother a shell of what she had been, leaving a child in the care of a shadow, to fend for herself or die?
But in that moment, as I felt and heard the approach of my imminent death, I prayed to a God I did not believe in. I forgave Him His sins and pleaded with Him to forgive me mine. Shit happens. I get it. But fuck, why did shit have to happen when I'd just managed to see the light?
He was close, the clothes swaying beside me, the pole they all hung on rattling in its slots. With every sway I could see the jackets in between the clothing on the opposite side. I couldn't see Drew.
Would I get one last look before the bullet hit between my eyes?
I felt like crying, but I refused to let the tears fall. When he got here, pulled the jackets back, I'd throw the first punch, knee him in the balls. I tensed, leaned forward on the pads of my feet, lifted my arm up slowly, making sure I didn't rustle any material to my sides, and clenched my fist. I knew I'd get only one shot at this, I was determined to make it work.
I hadn't come so far personally - emotionally and physiologically - to have it all taken away by a criminal thug. I knew I was facing my death, but fuck it! I would die trying to take someone with me, or at least make it impossible for the prick to father a child.
Closer, he was closer, so close now.
Images of Drew and me flashed through my mind. I almost laughed, amused to think that whole life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing was possibly real. But I wasn't dying yet. I felt the jacket to my side shift, sucked in a quiet breath of air to prepare...
And then a gunshot sounded out in the foyer.
"Found one!" a voice cried out. "How you doing, Frank? Boss wants us upstairs."
"Ah, fuck it. No one's in here," the voice not more than a foot away - I was guessing, Frank - muttered under his breath.
I heard footsteps getting further and further from where I stood shaking from head to toe.
"Lock that door if it's clear!" someone ordered outside the room.
The door slammed shut. I breathed, then felt the undeniable urge to pee. A key turned in the lock. I slid down the wall at my back, silently retching, my gag reflex spasming violently with the need to puke up my guts. I heard Drew move, jackets pulled aside quietly, then he was down on his knees, wrapping me up in his arms.
He didn't say a word, no soothing placating phrases such as, "It's OK, everything will be all right." He knew how close we'd come, how close I'd come to death. He knew, and he shook with me, shuddering as he held me tight, squeezing me to his chest. His head hung loosely over my shoulder, his arms banded around me completely glued in place. Our breaths matched, our heart rates racing each other.
Then he murmured, in a voice that sounded nothing like his, "I was a second away from coming out and catching his attention. Drawing him somewhere other than you."
Oh, sweet Jesus. Thank God he didn't. Maybe God had heard my prayers.
"Sternchen," he whispered. Then just a repeat of the same as his hands finally moved, assessing my body for damage, unable to feel the damage that had been done on the inside. But it didn't stop him from trying, his hands smoothing over my soaked clothing, sweat having made a dripping mess of my attire.
I have never been so scared in my life before. Never so sure I'd face death. My body wasn't able to figure out how to relax, wasn't able to assimilate the adrenaline that thundered through my veins. I felt sick, so sick. And shattered, and still unbearably scared.
"Will..." I had to clear my throat. "Will they come back?"
Drew pulled away and looked down at me. "Fuck, you're pale," he commented, brushing damp curls from my face, then rubbing his hands up and down my arms, as if that would bring the blood back to my cheeks. "I'll check the door, but I think they've cleared this area, for now we're safe."
He moved to pull away and I gripped him tighter, unaware I'd been holding him as close as he'd been holding me.
"It's OK. I'm only going as far as the door," he assured me.
I looked in his eyes, saw the promise there, the honesty, the truth.
"I need to make sure it's locked," Drew whispered. "I'll be back."
I nodded, my fingers taking longer than they should have to unlatch.
He gave me one last look, and then stood up and quietly tip toed to the door. I watched, the shaking back in my frame, as he knelt down and peered through the keyhole. He was silent a while, turning this way and that to get a better view, then so very slowly, he reached up and tested the handle on the door.
He didn't make a sound.
I didn't breathe a breath of air.
He turned around and half crawled, half crouch-walked back to me. Maybe his legs weren't following commands as well. He settled in beside me, still hiding us from the door with the hanging clothes, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
"It's locked, they've moved on," he finally said, pulling me close to his side, as though he'd never let me go again.
I rested my head down on his chest and wrapped my arms around his stomach.
"What did you see?" I asked, able to get the sentence out in one hit.
He hesitated, which made me lift my face to his, but his hand came back up to my curls and pushed my cheek back to his chest.
"You don't want to know, sweetheart," he murmured.
We silently let that statement sink in.
&nb
sp; Noises could be heard through the building. Sirens from outside, but not as many as before, the EMS had set up and switched them off. The alarm in the building had cut out at some stage though, I had no recollection of when that had occurred.
None.
The odd muffled scream or shout. Once, a gun going off. But most of what was happening was probably insulated by the thick concrete and strategic soundproofing these sorts of buildings all have.
"What do we do now?" I asked, finally able to feel my legs again, my stomach no longer wanting to evacuate its contents, my breathing controllable and not so loud.
Drew had started stroking a hand down my back.
"We need to let the Police know we're here, what we've seen. Any information could help them out."
"I didn't see much," I felt obliged to admit.
"I'll talk to them. Why don't you phone ASI, they'll be aware of what the Police won't be prepared to share with a civilian."
I nodded, thankful to have a task at last, and pulled my cellphone from my pocket and scrolled through until I found ASI. Sucking in a deep breath to steady myself and prepare for an interrogation, I hit the button to connect the call.
And received a no signal tone for my efforts.
My eyes came up to Drew's and found him watching me, his own cellphone resting in his hand, on his lap.
"No signal," he said, unnecessarily.
"No signal," I confirmed, equally unnecessarily.
I bit my lip and returned my now useless cellphone to my pocket. Drew did the same. Then we sat there and listened to the sounds in the building. Sirens still approaching, but not as many as before. Someone talking through a loudhailer, probably the Police negotiator. The voice muffled, but scratchy. The odd thump, a shudder felt through the frame of the building's structure itself. Another gunshot, or it could have just been a door slamming shut. It was hard to tell.
There was nothing on the other side of our locked door, other than what we could hear from outside the glass fronted entrance to the District Court. I could picture the mayhem. Police cars blocking off the road. AOS, or Armed Offenders Squad, New Zealand's SWAT team, hurrying along rooftops, getting into position to do God knows what. The Press were probably circling, vultures waiting to snatch up a morsel of shock and awe for their news. And word of what was happening here filtering through the public, whispering like the spread of disease, along Albert Street, down Victoria Street West, across Queen Street, and finally up High Street until it knocked on Sweet Seduction's door.
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