Oh God, Dayton.
He’d be home at any minute, and there was no way for me to warn him. I had to find a way to disarm Sutton, or at the very least, keep him off balance while I tried to come up with something that would keep everyone I cared about safe.
Max, Dayton, Kathy, and her daughter. They all needed me to hold it together and think of a solution to this situation. The only thing that might buy me some time was contrition. If I pretended I was sorry, kept Sutton talking, maybe, just maybe, that would work.
Max, I love you more than my own life. Please forgive me for what I am about to say.
“You were right, Sutton. I should have listened to you. Having a kid ruined everything. I should have done as I was told. If I had, we’d still be together.”
His eyes narrowed, and for a split second, I thought he believed me. Stupid, stupid me. His lips thinned, and he sneered.
“Nice try, babe.”
He smashed the butt of the gun against my temple. Agonizing pain shot through my head, the room spun, and then I passed out.
* * *
Water drenched my face, and I coughed and spluttered. My eyes flickered open to find Sutton looming over me, the gun in one hand and an empty bowl in the other.
“Wakey, wakey, Sienna. Can’t have you passing out on me again and spoiling my fun.”
I blinked, trying to clear my vision. My head felt foggy, as if my brain had been stuffed with cotton wool. I couldn’t think straight.
“Max,” I croaked.
“Still asleep.”
I didn’t know whether to be relieved he was safe or terrified that Sutton had gone to check on him and now knew where he was. I pressed a hand to my head.
“How long was I out?”
“A couple of minutes.”
“Sutton, please go. I won’t tell anyone you were here, I promise.”
He lowered onto his haunches, those dead eyes focused directly on me. “Oh, Sienna. You always were a dumbass.” He leaned in, close enough that I could smell whiskey on his breath. “Where. Is. Kathy?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I don’t know. Honestly. I left her in Seattle.”
“Liar!”
I flinched and pressed my back into the couch, trying to put some distance between us. I thought he was going to hit me again, but then the elevator dinged, distracting him.
Dayton.
“Ah, things are about to get interesting.” Sutton hauled me to my feet. He wrapped his forearm tightly around my neck, the barrel of the gun rammed against my temple once more. “Not a fucking word of warning,” he murmured into my ear. “Or it’s bye-bye Sienna.”
I held my breath, my eyes trained on the door to the apartment, the same one Dayton would walk through at any second.
The first thing I saw was an enormous bunch of flowers. I opened my mouth to call out, but Sutton jammed the gun into the side of my head.
“Christa?”
Dayton shifted the flowers, and his eyes fell on me. He dropped the bouquet, and a few petals detached. Dear God, don’t let that be an omen.
“What the fuck!”
“Come join the party,” Sutton said, his alcohol-infused breath spattering my cheek. “All you have to do is tell me where that fucking slut Kathy Johnson is, and maybe I’ll let Sienna live.”
Dayton held his hands out in front of him. He never even looked at me. His eyes were fixed on Sutton, his movements slow and steady as he prowled across the wide expanse that separated the living area, where we were, from the entrance door.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Atwood,” Dayton said. “Right now, this is salvageable. You hurt her, and it’s all over.”
“I disagree,” Sutton drawled. “I could kill you both, of course, but where’d be the fun in that? Nah, it’d make life much more interesting if I tied you up while I had a little fun with Sienna and forced you to watch. I mean, she’s dressed for fucking, right?”
He kept the gun jammed against my temple and licked the back of my neck. I swallowed a lump of bile. My entire body shook. I couldn’t breathe. My heart beat so fast, I felt as if it would explode from my body any second. His hand slipped south, and he squeezed my breast so hard it brought tears to my eyes.
“Then after I finish fucking my little whore, I could grab Max and be on a plane within the hour. By the time you’d have freed yourselves, or someone found you, there’d be a lot of miles between you and me. Good luck finding Max then.” He laughed, the sound piercing my eardrums. “The thought of where he was, of what I was doing to him, would fucking kill her, slowly, torturously.”
I tried to speak, but Sutton tightened his hold around my neck. I gripped his forearm and tried to burrow my fingertips between his arm and my neck to give myself some breathing space. He tightened further. Spots swam in front of my eyes. Don’t pass out. Stay with it.
“You’d be found. Eventually,” Dayton said, his voice weirdly calm. “Do you really want to live your life on the run?”
Dayton took another step, his stealthy movements barely noticeable, inching ever closer to us.
“Get. Me. Kathy.”
Dayton shook his head. “I don’t know where she is. If I did, I’d tell you.”
“Liar!”
I flinched. Sutton hollering so close to my ear brought on a high-pitched ringing.
“I’m not lying,” Dayton said.
Step.
“She means nothing to me.”
Inch.
“Christa is all I care about.”
Creep.
“Now put the gun down, and we can talk.”
Edge.
“Don’t take another fucking step!”
Dayton immediately stopped, his hands coming up in surrender mode. “Okay, easy. You’re in charge.”
“You’ve got exactly five minutes to get that fucking slut right here or I’m gonna put a bullet in this bitch’s brain.”
He jabbed me again with the barrel of the gun to press home his point.
“No!” I croaked. “Sutton, please.”
Dayton’s gaze shifted to me for the first time. The pain and fear in the depths of his midnight-blue eyes tore through me. They spoke volumes. We may not survive this.
I inclined my head. We had no choice. He’d have to get Kathy to come up here.
“Okay, okay, you win. I’ll call her.”
Sutton hissed, the air whistling over my cheek. “No fucking tricks, otherwise I swear, I’ll fucking kill her.”
Dayton’s hand went to his inside pocket.
“Stop!” Sutton shouted. “What are you doing?”
Dayton froze. “My phone. It’s in my pocket.”
“Slowly,” Sutton said. “One false move, and I’ll pull the trigger.”
Dayton’s hand crept toward his pocket. He took out his phone and held it in the air. “See. It’s cool. We’re cool.”
“Call her,” Sutton demanded. “Do it now.”
Dayton tapped the screen… and then Max’s cry came over the baby monitor.
“Momma.”
Sutton’s head snapped to the right.
Dayton lunged.
And the gun went off.
26
Dayton
Christa screamed, the noise piercing and loaded with fear. Pain exploded in my shoulder, and I fell backward. My head cracked on the floor, forcing a grunt from my throat.
I struggled to sit up, but every movement was like a thousand knives twisting in my flesh. Christa screamed again.
“Dayton!”
I forced my eyes open. She needed me. I couldn’t let her down. And Max. Max was calling for her. Atwood had a gun. Fuck, my head wouldn’t work. I shook it, blinking, trying to focus.
“Bastard!”
My vision cleared. Christa attempted to wrestle free of Atwood’s hold, but he tightened his grip. I tried to get up, but my legs refused to obey me. Atwood had the gun pointed right at my chest. If he pulled the trigger now, I was a goner.
“
Don’t,” I croaked, my throat painfully raw. Christ, it didn’t even sound like me. I held my palm toward him as if that would save me from a bullet. “Stop.”
He cocked the gun, the clicking sound sending fear rushing through me. Not fear for me, but for what would happen to Christa, or Max, if I died.
“Fuck.” I put my hand out to aid me. The floor was damp. I looked at it, covered in dark, thick, sticky blood. My blood. I felt sick, my head woozy, spinning. “Fuck,” I mumbled again.
“You dick,” Atwood spat. “If you’d listened and done as you were told, you wouldn’t be lying there with your shoulder busted up.” He kicked my phone over to me. “Now fucking. Call. Her.”
“Momma!”
Max’s cries urged me on. I made another attempt to get up, but my foot slipped in the blood. Pain shot through me, excruciating, lighting my shoulder on fire. My left arm hung uselessly at a very strange angle. My eyes flickered. No. Must stay awake. Dammit, brain, work. Just fucking work.
Time stood still, each second passing by as if in slow motion. I felt around for my phone, eventually closing my fingers around it. I searched for Christa. Atwood still had her in a headlock, his forearm pressing on her neck, but at least the gun was aimed at me. I willed her to look at me, and by some miracle, she did.
“Ready?” I asked.
She frowned, and then her eyes flickered to my right hand still clasped tightly around my phone. She blinked in understanding, but not before fear dashed through her eyes. With considerable effort, I managed to struggle to my feet. Blood oozed from the bullet hole in my shoulder, and nausea churned in my stomach, my head spinning from me righting myself.
“I’ve been ready for hours,” Atwood said, completely misunderstanding that I hadn’t been talking to him.
I would only have one chance to get this right. If I missed, he’d kill us both. Even if I didn’t, our chances of getting out of this were slim.
Praying my days of playing baseball when I was younger didn’t let me down, I took aim and threw my phone at Sutton. It caught him above his right eye, splitting the brow. He yelled and released Christa and pressed his hand to the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers. I didn’t give him time to think. I launched, wrestling him to the floor. I gripped the wrist that held the gun and slammed it on the floor once, twice, three times. Pain racked through my shoulder. Please, God, don’t let me pass out.
Atwood eventually let go, and the gun skidded away. I straddled him, fisting his hair, and bashed his head against the oak, grateful I’d never gone for carpeting.
“Let him go, Dayton.”
I snapped my head to the left. Christa had hold of the gun and was aiming it right at Atwood.
“Let him go,” she repeated, so calm and collected given the ordeal she’d been through. Her aim was steady, true, her arms locked, feet planted wide. Both hands were on the gun, and the barrel pointed squarely in the center of Atwood’s torso.
I somehow scrambled to my feet. “Keep that trained on him. I’ll call the police. I need your cell,” I said, surprising myself by grinning.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I winced as I moved. “I’ll live.”
She nodded then gestured at Sutton with the weapon. “Get up.”
With his hand still pressed to his eye, he stood.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
“My cell is in the kitchen,” Christa said, ignoring Atwood’s plea, not that I expected her to respond.
Atwood moved.
Christa cocked the weapon. “Not another step.”
I sprinted over to the kitchen, my arm hanging uselessly by my side. I’ll call Cole. He’d be gentle with Christa, especially after the hell Atwood had put her through.
I picked her phone up off the counter, but as I went to dial, Atwood lunged at Christa. I watched, horrified, unable to get to her fast enough. The gun went off, the sound bouncing off the walls, deafening, terrifying.
“Christa!”
Atwood staggered backward, his hand now clutching his side where a red stain was fast spreading. He stumbled and fell. There was a sickening crunch when his head hit the corner of my glass coffee table.
Christa screamed. The gun fell from her hand and landed with a thud on the floor.
I sped over, patting her down, taking inventory, making sure all the pieces of her were intact. “Are you okay?” I asked, fevered. “Are you hurt?”
She looked at me, her eyes wild. “Oh God, oh God. Is he dead?”
I didn’t give a shit about Atwood. “Christa! Fucking talk to me. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She burst into tears.
I put my arm around her and held her. Max’s cries grew over the baby monitor, but he was better staying in his room. I didn’t want him to see this, and if he was crying, he was fine.
“Max.”
“Leave him,” I said. “We don’t want him out here right now.”
She nodded in understanding, then her eyes flickered to Atwood. He hadn’t moved since he’d fallen, and I couldn’t tell from here whether he was breathing or not. I hoped for not.
“I’m going to call the police, angel, okay? Then I’ll call Mrs. Flannigan and get her over here to sit with Max while I get this damn bullet taken out.” I grinned, trying to convey to her that I was okay.
Clearly in shock, she nodded numbly.
I rang the NYPD. It took a few moments to be patched through to Cole. Briefed, he promised to head right over.
I cut the call and crouched next to Atwood. I pressed my fingertips to his neck. Nothing. I opened one eye, and when I was met with a glassy stare, I knew he was dead.
Good.
27
Christa
I held Dayton’s hand as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. How he’d kept it together while chaos reigned, and with a bullet lodged in his shoulder, was testament to my man’s grit and determination. But now we were safe, I could see the strain on his face, and the toll the blood loss had taken on him. His face had paled, and there was a sheen of sweat across his brow.
“He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” I asked the paramedic, Brian, who was pushing fluids through an IV line.
“Christa, stop fussing,” Dayton growled, still with it enough to call me out.
“There’s your answer,” Brian said. He patted my arm. “He’ll be fine. The bullet didn’t nick any major arteries or veins, nor from what I can tell, break any bones. You’ve been extremely lucky, Mr. Somers.”
“Yeah, feels like it,” Dayton gritted out as he grimaced through the pain.
We pulled up outside the emergency room, and Dayton was wheeled inside. After checking him over, the surgeon confirmed what I’d already feared—there wasn’t an exit wound, so they’d have to operate to remove the bullet.
An hour later, he was taken to the operating room. A nurse checked me over and diagnosed a slight concussion from where Sutton had hit me with the butt of the gun, but as long as I took it easy, I’d be fine.
After filling out a bunch of forms, I made a quick call to Mrs. Flannigan to check on Max, then went to the visitors’ waiting area. Cole was standing by the window nursing a drink.
“How’s he doing?”
“Once they remove the bullet, the doctor said he’ll make a full recovery.”
“And what about you? How’s the head?”
I sank into a chair. “I’m okay.” I pushed my hair out of my face. “He’s definitely dead, isn’t he?”
Cole nodded.
I covered my face with my hands, and we sat there in silence for a few moments. I gathered my wits and took a deep breath. “Am I in trouble?”
Cole took the seat next to mine. He put his cup on the floor, between his feet. “No, you’re not in trouble. We’ll need a full statement from you both as soon as Dayton has recovered enough, but from my perspective, this is a clear case of accidental death. Besides, he broke into your home. You have a rig
ht to defend yourself.”
I rubbed my fingertips over my dry, cracked lips. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I don’t know whether to be relieved, or annoyed, that he’ll never pay for his crimes to Kathy and Sunny. And me.”
“My opinion, for what it’s worth, is that the justice system is far from perfect, and perpetrators of crime sometimes get away with it. Sure, Atwood might have been facing significant prison time for the rapes if he’d been convicted, but at some point, he’d have been released. This way…” Cole shrugged. “It’s over.”
I nodded, my eyes filling up, and when I blinked, tears coursed down my cheeks. And once I started, I couldn’t stop. Huge, racking sobs sent my whole body into a quivering, trembling mess.
Cole rubbed my back, his touch gentle and reassuring. “It’s the shock. Let it out, and you’ll feel a whole lot better.”
It took several minutes of uncontrolled crying before I got a hold on my emotions. Cole passed me a pack of tissues.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “You don’t even know me, and here I am, weeping all over you.”
Cole laughed. “Believe me, I’ve had much worse than a pretty lady crying on my shoulder.”
I smiled. I liked Detective Cole Brook. He reminded me of George in a way, with his calm demeanor and inner strength. “Can I give my statement to you?”
“Of course you can.”
* * *
“Nina should be here soon,” I said, plumping up Dayton’s pillows. His left arm was in a sling, but apart from that one sign, he appeared to be in perfect health and was already itching to be released from the hospital. When I told him they wanted to keep him in for a second night, he was not happy. “And Detective Brook wants to talk to us.”
Avenging Christa: Irresistibly Mine Duet Book 2 Page 17
