“Drop it and get moving,” the man sneers sinisterly.
She’s unable to take a deep breath as the man pushes at her shoulder, forcing her to move up towards the stairs. Sydney works out a plan in her mind on how to defeat the single man behind her. That is, until she sees the other man beginning to move from his place on the ground where she had knocked him with the crate.
Damn. I can’t take on two of them.
Dejectedly, Sydney allows the man to shove her up the staircase and move into the hallway. She turns her head to the right, where she had noticed the sound earlier, and finds a man slouched over a computer, his head pouring blood onto the keyboard and she gasps in horror.
Until this moment, Sydney had not been absolutely positive that they would kill her, but seeing the body of a man who has been shot simply because the cameras went down only confirms that the dreadful occurrence will indeed happen.
Where are you, Dylan?
Her time is running out and she has no idea how to get out of here unharmed.
To her shock and horror, Harposia suddenly comes to stand in front of her, blocking her view of the lifeless man.
“You know the plan wasn’t to kill you, originally. You didn’t know enough. But now I’ve had to kill one of my men for his incompetence, so I feel like my debt should be repaid. You know – an eye for an eye.”
“But I don’t…I didn’t…” Sydney cries as the man behind her tightens his hold on her arm, shoving the gun deeper into her skull.
“Where is your boyfriend? Why hasn’t he come for you yet?”
“I don’t understand,” she cries.
“The blonde one, he’s FBI right? He thought he had us all fooled, but the joke’s on him. I have a plan for him and all the trouble he caused. And you! You were supposed to be my way to catch him. I should have known better: men only look out for themselves. That’s why I had to kill my husband and take over. He was doing a horrible job with this business.” Leaning closer, Harposia seems to examine Sydney in a new light. Her voice is suddenly seductive and sultry. “But you are a pretty thing. I bet I could have a use for you yet. I’m sure there are many a man that would pay a great deal for someone like you…an American beauty.”
Sydney’s eyes widen in fear at the thought of being sold to someone. In that moment, she almost feels that death will be the better option.
“Load her in the van, boys. We’re headed back home. I’ll decide what to do with her on the way.”
Harposia swiftly maneuvers her way towards the back of the house and Sydney digs in her heels, pulling back as the man tries to yank her towards the front of the house where the van is waiting.
“Let me go! Please! I won’t tell anyb…”
“Shut up!” the man yells, yanking Sydney’s arm harder and she screeches in pain.
Her shoulder feels like it is being pulled apart as the man continues to drag her backwards. Sydney hears a clicking noise and winces as she imagines the hammer of the gun cocking back. Instead, she hears a yelp of agony as her assailant’s arm, the one that was holding the gun, releases her, and he reaches across with his other arm to cover a wound.
Sydney wastes no time and makes a run for the back door, considering she knows what awaits her towards the front. The sound of another gun firing vibrates in the house, and Sydney ducks and covers as she hears the bullet whiz past her.
“Sydney!” she hears her name shouted from behind her in panic.
Recognizing it as Dylan’s voice, her heart sings.
Turning on her heel to get a glimpse of her love, she can’t catch herself in time as she runs directly into a wall of steel. Twisting her head back around, she recognizes the man as the one she had knocked in the head with the wooden crate down in the cellar. His heavily weighted arm comes around her neck and he holds her hostage against his body while she struggles to free herself from his clutch.
Across from her, Dylan comes to a halt, gun drawn in their direction, and his breathing slow, yet slightly erratic, as if he is trying to hold back his worry.
“Drop the weapon and let her go,” Dylan commands, broadening his stance and cocking back the hammer of his gun.
Another man steps forward and says, “I would do what the man said. Y’all took his girl after all.”
Caleb...er...Preston. They had both come for her.
“Step back,” the man who is holding her says shakily.
“Isn’t this just lovely,” a demonic and yet feminine voice calls from the hallway entrance. “It’s like a family reunion. How wonderful of you all to join us today.”
Harposia stands in the same eggplant dress as before with matching heels, but this time, there is a gun not only strapped around her back, but there is also one in each hand. Both are directed towards someone Sydney cares for.
“I’ll make this easy for everyone. You’re going to drop your weapons. I’m going to take the girl, and my men and I are headed home,” Harposia proclaims with a sinister laugh. “You all won’t have to worry about anything else once I’m gone. You follow me and she dies. You don’t? Well, maybe I’ll keep her around. Wouldn’t want to take that chance, would you?” she adds, kicking a duffle bag in the middle of the room.
Sydney’s eyes widen and just as she’s about to glance back up from the bag, she hears a hiss fly across the room. Next thing she notices is Harposia slinking down the wall towards the ground, a bullet sounding right next to Sydney’s ear, the man’s grip loosening on her neck, and searing pain coursing through in her collar bone.
“Sydney!” Dylan cries as he rushes forward toward her. “Angel, are you ok?” he asks, his hands surrounding her face and his fingers inspecting the dried bloody skin of her face.
“We need to get out of here, man,” Preston calls from the exit.
Dylan leans down and scoops her up from where she has begun to crouch onto the floor. Sydney cries out as his hand rests on her shoulder. He pulls his hand back slightly to find blood covering his fingers.
“I’m so sorry, Angel. Everything will be ok.”
“You came for me,” is the last thing Sydney remembers whispering before her world turns black.
YLAN HAS BEEN PACING the floor in the hospital’s conference room for the last thirty minutes, his anxiety at an all-time high. Lewis had to pretty much drag Dylan from Sydney’s bedside, promising that someone would stay watch while he was debriefed. He knows it is protocol, but protocol is the least of his worries at the moment. His apprehension lies in the fact that Sydney hasn’t woken up in three hours.
When he carried her from the home, she had passed out in his arms the second he realized she had been shot in the cross fire. Dylan wasn’t concerned with the bag containing explosives that had been tossed into the room - Kerry’s men had nodded at him, silently assuring him they could handle it. No, he wanted to get Sydney to the medical center as fast as he possibly could. His concern rested solely with her.
Kerry’s town car had been waiting in the distance and zoomed towards him at an alarming speed, so fast that he had almost jumped back in unease, but the car came to an abrupt halt. Kerry leapt out and ushered Dylan and Sydney into the back seat.
“She’s been shot and she’s unconscious,” Dylan described to Kerry, who then brought up her phone and dialed Logan.
Without a word, the car flew down the gravel road, then down Main Street and past the Carson Medical Center, heading straight for Asheville.
“Logan said to keep it elevated and to keep pressure on it. I have some clean towels here if you’d like,” Kerry suggested while Dylan stared helplessly at his love.
The drive passed in a blur and before he knew it, Sydney had been taken from his arms as he aimlessly followed a nurse into the hospital. The nurses wouldn’t let him go back the entire way, even with his badge, so instead they were forced to deal with an irate and unsure man who stubbornly refused to move from the double doors that led to the Emergency Surgical area.
Luckily, one of the nurses took pity
on him and kept him up to speed.
Sydney’s shot had been through and through, barely missing a major artery. She was going to be fine. They had also reset her shoulder while she was out of it and wouldn’t have to recall it.
After she was placed in a private room under an alias of Angel Bennett (a suggestion for which Dylan took full credit), he had sat beside her bed until the very moment Lewis dragged him out.
The entire scene keeps playing over and over in his mind, and he tears himself apart, dying to know what he could have done differently.
“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Bennett. She’s alive. We were lucky to find her when we did. Things could have played out much differently. I had intel that Harposia had planned on getting into the sex trafficking business.”
“You are not making this better, Rockwell. This should have never happened in the first place. I promised to protect her, but now she’s lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound. What the fuck am I supposed to tell her family? Her mom?” Dylan shouts in exasperation, his hands waving wildly in the air.
“Sit,” his boss directs him, and Dylan sullenly drops into a seat, resting his head in his hands as his elbows sit on the table. “Dylan, you’re one of our best agents. I know that you know that. Hell, Preston knows that. You have to treat this like you would any other case. Sydney was a targeted victim, and has been for years. We have been lucky enough to protect her this long, but remember, these are criminal masterminds. They usually won’t stop until they get what they want. At that point, we just have to do our best to keep all parties alive.” Taking a deep breath, Lewis moves from his seat and walks over to Dylan, resting his backside casually against the table, beside his chair. “As your boss, I must say I am extremely proud of what you were able to accomplish with the very little information we had. Harposia is no more, and her team will most likely disband for at least the time being. Now, as your friend, I’d say you did a hell of a job keeping your feelings at bay to protect Sydney. Otherwise, we may have been looking at an entirely different scenario.”
Glancing up at his boss, Dylan knows he is right. Had his emotion gotten the best of him, Dylan wouldn’t have been able to communicate with Kerry’s men, or devise a strategic plan that would work and save the town sweetheart.
“I know you’re right. It just feels like I could have done more. What if she thinks I could have done more?”
“Then, son, you tell her you did the best you could with what you had. That’s all we can do,” Lewis replies as he gently slaps Dylan’s back. “So, any thoughts as to how a member of Carson, North Carolina has diplomatic immunity?”
Smiling up at Lewis, Dylan chuckles for a moment and then shakes his head, “No, sir. Not a clue.”
“Hmm…”
A knock at the door sounds and they are greeted by a nurse in pink and purple scrubs.
“Sir?” she inquires as she eyes Dylan. “Angel is awake now. I can take you to see her if you’d like.”
“Can we continue this later?” Dylan asks his advisor, and Lewis leads him to the door.
“I think we’re done here, Bennett. If I need anything more, I’ll be in touch, but I doubt I’ll be hearing from you for a long while. Except for perhaps a wedding invitation.” he adds, a twinkle in his eyes.
Dylan glances at him wearily and adds, “I can only hope.”
He follows behind the nurse as she directs him to the floor and room he had recently vacated. He is actually thankful for her guidance, because he isn’t sure all of his synapses were firing earlier. Heaven knows he may not have been able to locate the room where Sydney is resting.
Dylan nods at the guard who stands across the way of the room, keeping an eye on Sydney. As he is turning the handle to the door, he stops when he hears Preston saying something, and Sydney laughing. And it isn’t just any laugh, because at this point Dylan, can tell the difference between Sydney’s polite “I’m just humoring you” laugh, and her full-fledged “this is hysterical” laugh. The one resounding in his ears right now is the latter, and that alone cracks his heart.
Dylan steps back from the room and gently closes the door, but can’t move his feet from their place on the linoleum. Unfortunately, the closed door does little to quiet the discussion taking place on the other side. He closes his eyes as he tries not to eavesdrop, but the temptation to do so is too strong. He can’t make out the exact words, but his heart hears Preston begging Sydney for another chance. She whispers a reply and an anxious Dylan can do no more than interrupt their rendezvous.
He knocks shamelessly on the door and waltzes in without an introduction. Regrettably, Preston doesn’t seem alarmed by his presence, but his heart sings when the smile on Sydney’s face widens ten-fold.
Take that Preston.
Dylan struts over to Sydney and sits on the edge of her bed, watching as she removes her hand from Preston’s grasp and brings her other one to touch his forearm.
“Dylan,” she whispers as if she hadn’t seen him in centuries, as if a sense of relief has washed over her.
“Hey, Angel. I’m glad to see you’re awake. Has Preston been keeping you good company?” Turning his face in the direction of his teammate, he utters his thankfulness and then adds, “I’ll take it from here.”
As Preston chuckles and turns to leave, he bends down and kisses Sydney on the forehead and adds, “Just let me know, Sydney. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Dylan narrows his eyes at his so-called “friend” as the man leaves, then he turns his attention back to Sydney.
Reaching up, he runs his fingers through her soft hair and asks sincerely, “How are you feeling?”
Sydney lays her hand on top of his as it comes to rest on her cheek.
“Much better now.”
Dylan understands that her words hold no excess meaning, but he can’t help but feel the jealousy gurgling up inside of himself, questioning if Preston had been the one who made her feel that way.
“Are you ok?” she asks, spotting the confusion and hesitancy that is swirling in his gaze.
Taking a deep breath, Dylan exhales and slouches into himself.
“Dylan?”
“I’m sorry, Sydney.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
Dylan rises from the bed and begins pacing back and forth across from the footer.
“My entire job was to protect you and I didn’t do that. You were hurt and it’s all my fault.”
“Dylan, it’s not your fault. It was a freak accident. I’m so grateful you even found me.”
“I just…maybe I’m not good enough for you, Syd. I couldn’t do the one thing I promised you,” Dylan murmurs, just as a group of people excitedly rush through the door.
Her entire family - mother, father, brothers and sisters, the people who want the best for Sydney - gather around her bed and begin to chatter animatedly.
Her attention is captured and Dylan makes his move to scurry from the room like a coward. As his chest throbs in agony, begging for him to return to Sydney’s side, he turns around for a moment to get one last glimpse of his Angel. He finds himself mimicking her smile as she laughs at something Everleigh says, the two sisters openly exchanging their teasing. As he starts to turn back around to exit, Sydney’s mother glances up at him and shoots him a broad, tear-laden grin, mouthing the words Thank you before sending her attention back to her daughter.
Dylan doesn’t respond, he simply exits the room and makes his way out of the hospital, leaving a piece of himself behind.
HE OVERWHELMING LOVE WASHING over Sydney as she rests in the hospital bed overshadows the hurt she feels at Dylan’s words.
“…I couldn’t do the one thing I promised you,” he said just as her family came waltzing into her room.
Her sister Everleigh had immediately taken residence at her side and peppered her with questions. At last, Sydney finally had asked her to calm down, or she’d make sure to invite Brooks to The Grill’
s opening event if she didn’t. Everleigh had sniffed at the air, as if something horrible had wafted by. Sydney wasn’t sure what happened between her sister and the overly-attractive ex-baseball player that caused Everleigh to despise the man, but whatever it was, Sydney liked to push her buttons about it. The two women stared at each other, then broke out in laughter before she heard the click of the door.
Now here she is, completely alone in the cold and dark hospital room, wondering where her boyfriend (if she could even call him that), has disappeared to.
“Knock, knock,” a melodic voice repeats, mimicking the noise she has made on the door with her knuckle.
When Sydney sees Kerry stroll in, she scurries to sit up in her bed in delight.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Sydney announces joyfully.
“How are you feeling? Really?”
“Relieved. It has been a nightmare these past few weeks, and I can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep, in my own bed,” she adds, and is rewarded with Kerry’s musical giggle.
“Well, I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to check in with you and make sure you were doing ok. Where is Dylan?”
“That’s a good question, and I don’t have an answer.”
“Did something happen? He was just…so overwhelmingly concerned about you when we drove here. I just can’t imagine him taking off like that.”
Sydney’s earlier delight begins to wane as rage sparks and fizzles in her gut.
“Well, he did. The last thing he said to me was that he couldn’t keep his promise,” Sydney snapped.
Kerry nods her head in understanding.
“I get it. He kept saying that he promised to protect you and he’s shouldering the blame for the fact that you’re hurt.”
“It’s not his fault!” Sydney shouts and the heart monitor attached to her finger begins is beep erratically. “God, if anything, he is the only reason I’m alive right now.”
Coming Consumed: Welcome to Carson, Book Three Page 15
