by Wood, Vivian
I turn it on, and after a few moments a red beacon starts to blink. It’s on the other side of the city, nowhere near the arena or the hotel, and it’s stationary.
Bingo.
As I race to the meet point, a terrible thought occurs to me.
What if I’m about to walk in on some consensual hookup? What if Elly was just feeling rebellious and decided to sneak off and have a little fun?
And then, It’s not like I wouldn’t deserve it. Ending things with her was a mistake. Elly’s the best damn thing to ever happen to me, and if she wants to be together…
I sigh. The thing is, I did try to find another way. We were stuck between a rock and a fucking hard place. Maybe I could have been nicer about it, but how could we have gotten around all those obstacles?
Heart heavy, I pull up to where Karen is waiting in the SUV. I park the Mercedes and jump in the back seat, nodding to Alejandro.
“Head south,” I tell him.
“Where are we going?” Karen asks.
“I planted a GPS on Elly’s phone.”
Karen gives me a disgusted look, but doesn’t argue. Without my stepping over the boundaries, we wouldn’t know where Elly was.
At least this way she has a shot.
The thought turns my fucking stomach.
What if she dies before I—
Before I tell her I love her.
Bile burning bitter in my throat, I hand my phone over to Alejandro so he can navigate. I try to prepare myself for as many scenarios as possible, my SEALs training kicking in to let my brain ride shotgun.
We drive into a crumbling industrial part of town. Three and four story warehouses, abandoned factories, that kind of thing. As we head down street after street, I see almost no lights on in any of the buildings. This whole area is a fucking ghost town.
Just the kind of place I’d pick if I needed to plan a kidnapping.
I start to realize that I’m almost hoping that she’s been kidnapped, rather than finding her with some other guy.
That’s really fucked up.
Or worse, finding her already hurt, god. That would be the fucking end of me, I swear it.
“Mr. Gray?”
I look up at Alejandro as he pulls over.
“I think we’re here.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Wait…” he gives me a nervous glance. “I was Forças Armadas Brasileiras. Military in Brazil. I have a weapon in the car.”
I look at him, really look at him for a split second. My guts says that there’s little chance this serious, quiet driver is more than he seems. He’s doing this because it’s the right thing, to his thinking.
“All right, let’s go.”
We all get out of the car, Alejandro pulling a piece from under his seat. Karen and I both unholster our own weapons. I take my phone back from Alejandro check the GPS one last time.
“It’s this building, I’m pretty sure,” I say, pointing to the place on our right.
“There’s a light on the second floor, all the way to the right,” Karen says, nodding her head.
“Let’s move,” I say.
I lead the way around the opposite side of the building. I want to be out of earshot in case we have to enter forcefully. Luckily, all the doors on the first floor are unsecured, some hanging off their hinges.
We go inside and find the stairwell. I advance up to the second floor and crouch, trying to recon.
Shit. The place was some big factory floor at one point, and it’s all just open and empty. I can see something at the far corner, and I pop up to get a better look.
Fuck.
Elly’s dark hair is unmistakable, falling like a curtain around her. She’s slumped over in a cheap plastic chair, hands bound behind her back.
“It’s her,” I whisper. “She’s tied up, far right corner. Can’t see anyone else.”
I hear a sound. I wait a couple of beats and then pop up again, ever so slowly so as not to attract attention.
It’s him, of course. Greg Dahl. He pacing, agitated. He’s lecturing Elly, though she seems unresponsive. She’s facing away from me, so I can only see the back of her head. I can’t make out his words, but his tone is angry, belligerent.
And he’s got a knife, a wicked-looking blade, clutched in his left hand.
“Do you think you can find another way around, try to hit him from behind?” I ask Alejandro.
He nods and vanishes without another word.
I sneak up for another glance, checking out the layout.
“There’s a door on that far side,” I tell Karen. She looks and nods. “I am going to try to draw him off. Go around and see if you can get to Elly. Or shoot Dahl in the fucking head, whichever.”
Karen purses her lips and nods, vanishing back down the stairs. I force myself to wait for seventy beats, give them a little time to get into position. Not too much time, though. I want to distract Dahl so he doesn’t notice them approaching.
Until it’s far, far too late for him.
I stand up, holstering my piece. I walk out into the open, not trying to hide my presence. I look Dahl up and down. He’s wearing a ratty black coat and jeans, his dark hair long and stringy, his face pale and gaunt.
“What the fuck?” Dahl screeches.
He reaches out and shoves Elly’s head back. From her posture I can see that she’s not unconscious, but she doesn’t move much. Playing possum.
Smart.
“Hey,” I call to him, raising my hands.
“You brought your fuck toy here? You are so disrespectful,” Dahl shouts at Elly. She flinches a little bit, which doesn’t stop him from slapping her face, hard.
She makes a soft noise, and I start to see red.
Keep your cool, soldier, I growl to myself.
“Greg? It’s Greg, right?” I ask, drawing closer.
“Stop where you are, fucker,” he says, brandishing the knife.
“All right. I’m stopping.” I make a show of raising my hands higher. “I think you have a score to settle with me. Right, Greg? With me, not with Elly.”
“She cheated on me with you,” he howls, giving me a look of disgust.
“Nah, man. She wouldn’t do that to you,” I say, shaking my head.
Dahl pauses. He really is delusional, I realize.
“I saw you together. Saw the photos,” he hisses.
“I’m just her bodyguard, man. The rest is all the press, just lies. I swear it.”
He looks from me to Elly.
“Is that true, Elly?” He reaches out to stroke her face, but she doesn’t react. I wish like fuck that I could see her face.
“It’s true,” I say. “She wouldn’t do that, man. She’s not that kind of girl.”
“Really?” he says, giving me a smirk. “Then who was she fucking in those photos? Hmmm, Elly?”
He grips her face until she squirms. She answers, too soft for me to hear.
“No one!” he echoes. “No one, she says. I smell a fucking rat, Elly.”
“Yo, man. I just want to make sure she’s okay. She doesn’t look so good,” I tell him. “I know you don’t want her to be hurt. I’m Red Cross certified. Let me at least check her pulse.”
Dahl straight up laughs at me.
“I don’t think so. You’re as bad a liar as my sweet Elly.”
I pause, then try another tack.
“What is it you want, Greg?”
“It’s Gregor. And what I want, you can’t give me.”
“Maybe I can, man. Who knows?”
“What I fucking want, Mister Bodygard Asshole, is for Elly to have stayed faithful to me. Like I was to her, for years.”
“You love her, though. You don’t want to hurt her, man.”
“You don’t know what I want!!” Dahl screeches at the top of his lungs. “Elly can never repay me, not after what she’s done.”
He looks down at her, almost sadly. He brings his fingers up to his lips, kisses them.
“No. No!” I
shout. I draw my weapon and line up, but it’s too late.
Dahl plunges the knife down at Elly with a scream. My hands are shaking so badly that my shot goes wide, but Dahl takes two hits and goes down, hard.
When Dahl falls, I see Alejandro standing behind him, breathing hard. Already Alejandro is moving over to secure Dahl, his military training apparently perfectly intact.
“Fuck,” I say, running flat-out to get to Elly. “Call a fucking ambulance!”
I nearly vomit on myself as I run, every single cell in my body going into high fucking alert.
I just lost the only thing in my fucking life that’s ever really mattered, the only person who’s loved me for me. I never even told her how I feel about her.
Karen and I reach her at the same time.
“Elly? Elly, honey. Say something, baby.”
I’m shaking so hard that Karen has to untie Elly’s hands. I pick Elly up and lay her out flat on the ground. She’s bleeding from her upper torso, a dark blot of blood spreading out just below her right breast.
“Fuck, fuck.”
Elly’s eyes open and she looks up, but she can’t seem to focus on me.
“Elly? Stay with me, okay?” I plead with her.
“Ambulance is nearby, they say,” Alejandro reports. He kicks Dahl, who doesn’t respond. “This one’s dead.”
Good. I wish like hell I’d been the one to do it.
“Con?” Elly says, with a cough. She struggles to take a breath, which means she’s probably got a punctured lung.
“Take slow, shallow breaths honey,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine, brushing her hair back from her face. She’s got a nasty knot on her forehead, clearly she didn’t let Dahl take her without a struggle.
Good girl. I’m proud of her, even though I’m scared shitless.
“Con, don’t leave me,” she whispers.
“Never. I’m right here, El. I swear.”
“The paramedics are coming up the stairs,” Karen says.
She runs over and helps with the stretcher, and soon they’re pushing me aside, talking in low voices. One of them checks Dahl over and radios for the cops and the coroner.
A breathing mask goes over her face, and she keeps trying to pull it off.
“Leave it, honey,” I tell her. I’m hovering like a mother hen, feeling more helpless than I ever have in my fucking life.
I watch as they pack her wound and cover it with a layer of plastic, then gently lift her onto the stretcher.
“Fucking be careful,” I snarl at one of them.
“Sir, please step back. We’re going to do everything we can.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Nope,” the paramedic says. “You’ll have to follow us to Mercy General. Now move back and let us get her to the ambulance.”
Elly rips at the plastic mask.
“I love you, Connor,” she wheezes.
Then the paramedics are carrying her off. I look around, unsure what to do.
“Here,” Alejandro says, tossing me the keys. “Karen and I will meet you when we can.”
I don’t have words for how grateful I am. I race after the paramedics, watching them load her in the van before I get into the SUV and tailgate them toward the hospital.
The whole time I follow after them, all I can do is pray.
That I haven’t lost her.
That I didn’t wait too long.
That my whole fucking life isn’t over before it really started.
I haven’t prayed maybe ever, but right now I’m fucking praying to God, Buddha, Allah, anyone who will listen to my desperate please.
Please, please don’t let Elly die.
Chapter Twenty
Elly
I open my eyes and groan.
I hurt.
“Umf,” I mumble, pulling at the plastic mask covering my mouth and nose. I’m laying in a bed, surrounded by beeping machines, IVs hooked up to one of my arms.
And man, am I in pain.
“Sir? Your wife’s awake,” a pretty blonde lady in nurse’s scrubs says.
“Elly? El?”
Connor’s big face looms over mine, his eyes rimmed in red.
“You crying?” I ask. My tongue is heavy and dry. “I’m thirsty.”
“Here’s some water,” the nurse says, holding a straw up to my mouth. Once I drink, she smiles at me. “I’ll go get the doctor, okay?”
I reach up to Connor and then cringe.
“What happened?”
Connor flinches a little, taking my hand and holding it as he sits next to me on the bed.
“You’re in the hospital, honey. Greg Dahl attacked you. You’re okay, though. Totally fine. And he… well, he’s never going to bother you again. I promise.”
I scrunch up my face.
“I feel weird.”
“I know, El. They gave you some pain meds, but they’re probably starting to wear off.”
“It hurts, though,” I whine.
“I know,” he says again, squeezing my fingers. He starts to say more, but a middle-aged man breezes in and interrupts.
“Miss Parsons, so glad to see you awake! I’m Dr. Bryson. You had a tough night, from what I gather. Your husband here has been pretty worried!”
I glance at Connor, who just shrugs and smiles.
“Mmmhm,” I say, unwilling to contradict him.
“You’re going to be fine. We’ve got you on some very mild antibiotics and some acetaminophen for your pain.”
“It’s not working,” I tell him bluntly.
“Right. Um,” he says, flipping through my chart. “Unfortunately, we can’t give you anything stronger. Your baby has been through a lot today, what with mom getting her lung punctured and re-inflated.”
“Um.” I glance at Connor, who’s gone very still. “What?”
“Your… the fetus?” the doctor says, looking a little confused.
“I’m not…” I stop and stare at him. My brain is doing backflips trying to keep up. “Pregnant?”
Connor squeezes my hand again. I look at him; he’s not in shock, which means that he already knew.
“Miss Parsons… I’m sorry, did you want to speak to me alone?” the doctor asks, looking between me and Connor.
I bite my lip and shake my head. Whatever he’s about to tell me, it certainly concerns us both.
“No, I just… are you sure?” I ask him.
“I’m so sorry to have told you like this, I’m terribly embarrassed. It looks like…” the doctor pauses to check my chart again. “You’re about seven weeks along. Very early still. I assure you, the fetus is perfectly healthy.”
I can’t help my reaction. I press both my hands to my stomach and burst into tears.
I’m going to have Connor’s baby?
The idea is just too big for me to handle right now. I grasp at Connor, who moves so he can hold me a little closer.
“Be careful, now,” the doctor says. “Don’t rip the stitches, we don’t want any more surgery or anesthesia, you hear?”
“Of course, Doctor,” Connor says.
“I, uh, I suppose I’ll leave you two to it, then. Be back in an hour to check in.”
And then he leaves us like that. Connor looking somber bordering on afraid, me sobbing like a baby and hiccupping and wishing my ribs didn’t hurt so much.
“El, it’s okay,” he says, gently tucking back a strand of my hair and then rubbing my back.
“It… is… not… okay!” I wail.
“Honestly, honey, it is. We’ll figure it out. Whatever you want, I swear.”
I can hear the guarded tone in his voice, and it pains me to have to wonder if that means he wants me to keep the baby, or…
Or…
Wrenching sobs overtake me then, and Connor keeps trying to calm me, begging me not to rip the stitches.
“Elly, please! Talk to me. Please tell me you’re not this upset about… I swear, I wouldn’t have done this on purpose…”
“You’re making it worse,” I choke out.
“I swear I’m just trying to be supportive.”
I look up at him, at the misery in his expression.
“Support the girl you knocked up, the one you don’t even want?” I say, my voice rising until it hurts my injured lung. “Fuck you, Connor Gray.”
He freezes.
“Elly… no. That’s just fucking totally wrong.”
“Don’t lie to me, Connor.”
“Elly, I would fucking marry you right here and now if I thought you’d god damn let me,” he says, growing angry.
“Y— what—” I can’t quite formulate a response. “Am I high right now?”
Connor’s anger slides away, and he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Did you just propose to me, in a really fucking unromantic way, or did I imagine that?”
Connor has the decency to flush at that, something I’ve never seen him do before.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not what I had planned—”
“Ohhh.” I let out a gust of air. “You’re pity marrying me. Shotgun style. That’s fucking pathetic.” I look at him, dead serious. “I can do better than that, Connor.”
Connor releases my hand and rubs his eyes.
“You are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met,” he sighs.
“I think you should leave. I’m going to tell them you’re not my husband, and they’ll make you leave.”
Connor takes my hand, gripping it forcefully when I try to resist.
“Elianna Parsons,” he starts.
“God, don’t.”
“Elly, shut up for a second, please.”
I clamp my mouth shut.
“Elianna Parsons, I love you.”
I narrow my gaze at him even as my heart skips a quick beat.
“I’m… listening,” I begrudge him.
“I’ve loved you for months. I love your smart fucking mouth. I love your ambition, and how much faith you have in people. I love your brain, and that you’re secretly smarter than most people.” He pauses, and I’m just fucking speechless. “Mostly I love fucking you, because you’re the hottest goddamned thing I’ve ever seen, and I know I will never feel this way about anyone else, period.”
He leans down, taking advantage of my stunned silence, and brushes his lips over mine. When he pulls back, he has that cocky smirk of his going, and I can’t decide if I want to slap him or pull him back down for another kiss.
