Capture Me

by Amber Thielman

  “Four-thirty-four,” he gasped. “Room four-thirty-four. Christ.”

  Logan nodded, and Kass dislodged the emergency latch, pushing the button to the fourth floor. She pulled out her cell phone and looked. It had been ten minutes since her phone call with Abby. Had Logan predicted this already, the police would be on their way, possibly here already. She swallowed her fear as the elevator came to a halt on the fourth floor. The doors opened, and she stepped out, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. Logan shoved Barnett forward, the barrel of the gun deep in his back. Kass scanned the room numbers, then started toward Laurel's room.

  “You won't get away with this,” Barnett growled under his breath. “They'll lock you up faster than you can blink. You'll lose your little sidekick over there, too.”

  Kass forced her expression to stay neutral, ticking down the room numbers in her mind as they walked. The thought of going to prison scared the shit out of her—what if Barnett was right? What if they couldn't prove Logan's innocence? He'd be locked up, and she probably would be, too.

  It was too late to turn back now. She wouldn't let him do this on his own. She didn't care the consequences anymore.

  Kass spotted room 434 and paused, sucking in air to hold her breath.

  “Should we knock?” she asked.

  Logan shook his head, pushing Barnett forward.

  “Get your key and open the door,” he said in his ear. Kass stepped to the side as Barnett, looking furious, fished the key out of his pocket. His fat face was red with anger, and what little hair he had left was wild about his head. He hesitated briefly, but she saw Logan push the gun deeper into the curve of his back. Grumbling, Barnett slid the electronic key into the door. Logan nodded at her, and she stepped forward, turning the handle. She pushed the door open and stepped through, expecting to see Laurel immediately. The room was empty, but she could hear the fan and the water from the sink going in the bathroom.

  “There,” she said to Logan, tilting her head. He nodded once, then, much to her surprise, raised the gun behind Barnett's head and slammed the butt over his skull. Barnett's eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the floor with no more than a groan of pain.

  “Well, that takes care of that,” she said. She stepped into the room, and Logan followed. The gun was poised in his hand, ready, as he turned back around to lock the deadbolt on the hotel room door. He silently urged her forward, into the living area. On the other side of the bathroom door, Kass could hear Laurel rummaging around in there.

  “Tyson?” Laurel called from behind the closed door. “Is that you, baby? What's the problem with the car? What happened?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “False alarm, honey,” Logan called. He looked at Kass and nodded. She knew what to do now; they had to find something—anything—that could be evidence against Laurel. Preferably the pills she’d used to drug him.

  Kass slipped past Logan and went to work, searching first through the suitcases as thoroughly as her trembling hands would let her. Logan was working on the dressers, gun steady in his hand as he dug through clothes and other personal belongings.

  The bathroom door creaked open then, and both Kass and Logan turned to look. A woman in her forties stepped out, holding a white towel in one hand. She was tall, slim, dressed in a black cocktail dressed and sandals studded with diamonds. She was a beautiful woman, one of class and elegance—not someone who looked like a murderer.

  “Laurel,” Logan said.

  Kass’s palms went clammy as the woman's eyes flickered back and forth between them. She saw Kass kneeling in front of an open suitcase, then spotted the gun Logan held. Laurel set the hand towel down on the closest table and cocked her head to the side, looking almost curious. She showed no fear.

  “It's been a while,” she said to Logan. Her voice was sultry—almost sexy. Kass could see his thumb stroking the metal of the gun. “How have you been?”

  She moved forward confidently, as if everything was Goddamn peachy. Kass felt the smooth glass of the window behind her, cooling the heat of her hands. She turned and pulled the curtains shut, realizing at that moment that the whole world may see them from the window alone. Then she continued to dig for the pills she could only pray were somewhere on them.

  “I've been swell,” Logan said to her. He’d stopped searching for a moment and ran his free hand over the windowsill, collecting dust on the tip of his fingers. His eyes caught Kass' as he passed her, and he smiled briefly, reassuring. “Nothing too significant. Mourning. Running. Hiding. My prison sentence was fun.”

  “Mourning?” Laurel repeated.

  Kass’s face flamed up when she saw Laurel's eyes travel over her, as if sizing her up.

  Laurel’s expression was only vaguely curious. She turned her head back towards Logan. “Why would you be mourning, my dear son?”

  She moved to the middle of the room then, picking up a bottle of lotion from the nightstand. Then she took a seat on the edge of the bed and pumped some cream into her hand.

  “I didn't come here to play games,” Logan said.

  Kass looked at her watch again. The police should have been there by now. They were running out of time.

  “What do you want from me, Logan?” Laurel asked. She crossed one slender leg over the other, applying the lotion slowly, her face smug. “Why did you come here?”

  “Why do you think?” he said. “I want a confession.”

  She laughed, her tone a sing-song. Then she stood up and crossed the room. Her eyes were again on Kass, and she suddenly felt like she was standing under a hot, bright light.

  “Who's your friend?” she asked. Kass recoiled as Laurel reached out and touched her cheek softly. She smelled of peaches, a calming scent, but Kass was too frightened to feel any level of relaxed. She pulled her head back, away from Laurel's fingers, and put on her best scowl.

  “Don't touch her,” Logan said. His voice was icy cold, his expression daunting.

  Laurel's hand dropped from her face. She backed away, but she was smiling. Kass hated that smile. There was something hidden beneath that smile, but Kass wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

  “Nice new catch,” Laurel said. “Not as cute as that fling you had back home, but she'll do. Your father would be proud.”

  Kass's legs were heavy as steel as she forced herself forward, towards the door. She wanted to leave, and she wanted to take Logan with her, but she couldn't. She wouldn't.

  “Have you found anything, Kass?” Logan asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Kass said. She was frustrated, willing this to go faster. What could they tell the police—who were inevitably on their way—if they found no evidence to support Logan’s claim? He was a criminal and she his sidekick. What would happen to them both?

  “You both need to leave,” Laurel said. She crossed her arms and glared at Logan. Her voice was tight now, and the calm, fake bravado she'd been playing was gone. “You won't get what you came for, Logan. Your best bet is to keep on running until you can run no more. There's nothing here for you.”

  Behind Kass, there was a sudden pounding on the door, rattling them into silence. She spun around, startled, her heart skipping a beat.

  “Police!” yelled a male voice. “Open the door.”

  Kass looked at Logan, and then back at the door. Before she could step forward to open it, the cops slammed into the frame, kicking it open, and a swarm of officers piled into the room, weapons raised to fire. Kass stumbled back, falling against the wall, putting her hands in the air.

  “Freeze!” one of them shouted at Logan. “PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON!” Kass turned to see that Logan had grabbed Laurel around the neck. He had her pulled into him, the gun pointed at her head. Kass’s breathing seemed to cease, and she choked back a sob, eyes welling with tears.

  “He's come after me!” Laurel screamed. Now, she was sobbing, her face suddenly twisted into a mask of phony horror. “Do something!”

  As she watched, Kass cou
ld see Logan's grip tightening around her neck as he held her steady.

  “Drop the gun, kid,” an officer said behind Kass.

  “I know what that means,” hissed Logan. Kass closed her eyes, willing her heart to keep on beating. “She framed me, and nobody understands that. She framed me!”

  “Logan—” Kass pleaded. “They’ll kill you!”

  “Have you found anything yet?” Logan asked. “We need to find it.”

  “Logan, don't,” she pleaded. “Let them help you. I know you didn't do it. I know you didn't! But killing Laurel won't bring your sister back. You know it won't.” Kass stepped towards him, but Logan stepped back, dragging Laurel with him. She was still sobbing, but at least she'd shut up.

  “They won't believe me, Kass,” Logan whispered. “They're certain I did it. If I turn myself over to them now, I'll end up in prison. I can't go back to jail. I need the evidence.”

  “I won't let you go to prison,” Kass said. “If you go to prison, I'm going to go to fucking prison with you.”

  “You need to leave,” Logan said to her. “You have to go now. Get out of here.”

  “No,” she said. “I'm not leaving you.”

  “Kass!”

  “You haven’t killed anyone yet.” the cop behind Kass said. “But your friend is correct. If you kill someone now, those options will no longer be available to you.”

  Kass noticed that the grip on Laurel's neck had tightened, and she closed her eyes, praying for this to all be over. She didn't care if Laurel was hurt—not even a little bit. But she cared if Logan got in trouble for it.

  Kass turned away from the scene in front of her and dropped to her knees beside the bed. It was their last choice. If only she could find something…

  “Do something!” Laurel screamed.

  “Mr. Ryder, lower the gun,” another officer said.

  “I didn't come all the way to let her squirm out of this now,” Logan said. “They've been on my trail this whole time, Kass; they think I did it.”

  “You have three seconds to lower your weapon,” one cop said. His tone implied no more bullshit, and Kass knew that it would be a matter of seconds before they’d shoot Logan dead on.

  She was about to get back to her feet when she spotted it; there, under the bed, was a navy-blue travel kit. She ducked and reached for it, yanking the zipper down to empty the contents onto the bedspread. She was a second too late. The sound of Logan cocking the gun was distinct to her ears. It filled the silence of the room, like a pin dropping on a concrete floor—so minuscule, and yet so vivid.

  “Tell them the truth, Laurel,” Logan shouted. “Tell them the truth or I’ll--”

  The gunshot was deafening, painful, like someone had cracked Kass upside the head with a steel bat. She hit the ground and covered her ears, head ringing with an unpleasant sensation. She could hear nothing around her, let alone focus on what was happening.

  The shot echoed, ricocheting off the walls around them. For a moment after, there was silence. Blood roared in her ears, but the silence was suffocating. It was a frightening, dreadful silence that pressed at Kass's lungs, daring her to breath. When she lifted her head, she tasted pennies in her mouth. No, not pennies. Blood. In front of her, a body lay on the carpet, face down, unmoving.

  It was Logan.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A guttural, animal noise from the pit of Kass’s stomach slipped between her lips as she focused her eyes on the still figure in front of her. Her body numb and tingling, she struggled to her feet to get to Logan. She tripped twice, almost falling. One of the cops had finally fired, and his gun was still pointed at Logan.

  “Logan,” Kass breathed. Behind the officers, Barnett was watching the scene in shock. Blood streamed from the open cut on his head, staining his nicely pressed, white button-up shirt. Sitting on the floor near the window, Laurel had her legs drawn up to her chest, and she was sobbing.

  “Logan,” Kass whispered again. She fell to her knees beside him, reaching one hand out to touch the skin of his forehead. “What did you do?”

  “He wouldn’t release the weapon,” one of the cops said. He was a rookie, Kass could tell. She’d worked with them often in her line of work. “I didn't mean to kill him. I—” he trailed off, gasping for composure, looking dizzy with shock. On his radio, one of the officers called for EMS. Kass barely heard them speak. She reached over and rolled Logan onto his back, surer than ever that he was dead. He’d gone. He’d left her.

  “Logan?” she said. “Logan, please open your eyes. Please?”

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to ignore the bloodstain seeping from under his shirt. She had to focus, had to clear her mind. Fingers shaking, she reached up softly to the base of his neck and felt for a pulse. The trembling of her hands almost hid it, but it was there. He was alive.

  “Jesus,” Kass said. She rested her hand on his cheek, leaning over him, touching her forehead to his. “Wake up, please.”

  Another few moments passed, and Kass melted into him, allowing the world around them to slowly fade away. She rested her lips on his head, and then down to his mouth.

  “Stay with me, Logan,” she whispered. Behind her, one of the officers was going through the blue bag she’d found under the bed. However, she didn’t care what was or wasn’t found. Her reason for being here was dying on the ground, and all anybody could do was wait for the ambulance.

  “Hey.”

  The crack of his voice made Kass’s heart jump in her throat. She looked down at Logan as his eyes fluttered open, wincing with pain. It took a moment for him to focus on her, but when his beautiful blue eyes met hers, he smiled weakly.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “I think I got shot.”

  Kass chuckled, but her laughter turned into tears, and before she knew it, beads of salt water were streaming down her face. She reached out against and rested her hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble on his chin. His skin was cool and pale, and he reached up to place his hand over hers.

  “Don’t do that again,” she said. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  She closed her eyes and laid down on the ground next to him, drawing herself closer to him. One officer was kneeling on the other side of Logan, saying something, but Kass had no idea the words that were coming out of his mouth because she wasn’t listening. He was alive; he was okay, that’s all that mattered.

  “She didn’t confess,” Logan said. Laurel, who was still sitting under the window, was still weeping, but Kass knew it wasn't for Logan.

  “Sergeant, we’ve got something over here,” somebody said. Kass peered over her shoulder to where one cop was holding up a lunch baggie full of pills. They weren’t labeled, but Kass didn’t doubt what they were.

  “I don’t think she’ll have to confess,” she said, turning back to Logan. Tyson Barnett was standing in the corner being questioned by another officer, and Kass heard someone else tell Laurel she needed to come to the station for questioning.

  “Hey,” Logan said. Kass looked back at him, her eyes meeting his, and she noticed that in the few moments she’d been by his side, the touch of his skin beneath hers was even cooler than it had been.

  “Don’t talk, okay?” Kass said. She squeezed his hand, turning to look at one of the cops. “I need towels from the bathroom. Now, please! I need to put pressure on the wound to keep him from bleeding out.”

  Fortunately, one of the officers obeyed, jogging to the bathroom and returning with a towel and some wet cloths. Kass took the towel, folded it, and pressed it tight against Logan’s abdomen, trying to count his respiratory rate as he breathed, but unable to because of the tears blinding her vision. Blood stained her hands as it seeped through the towel, and she pushed harder, fighting the urge to lose it.

  “Thank you for helping me,” Logan said. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  He smiled at her again, and then coughed. When he coughed, tiny dribbles of blood escaped from between his lips, sliding down his
chin.

  “Dammit, Logan,” Kass said, and looked around her for something that might help. There was nothing. She had no IV, no proper tourniquet, no trauma bag or blood clotting agent that could buy them more time. She was on her own. Kass scrambled to her knees. A gut-wrenching anguish that she’d never experienced before in her entire life gripped her chest and pulled her under.

  “EMS is five minutes out,” one officer said. He dropped down on the other side of Logan and applied more pressure to the gunshot wound. Kass let her chin drop to her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. Tears dripped, soaking Logan’s shirt.

  “Don't cry,” he said. “I got what I came for.”

  “But I didn't,” Kass said. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, listening to the raspy air escape his lungs. With great effort, he wrapped one arm around her and squeezed.

  “I don't regret anything,” he said in her ear. “Except for not meeting you sooner.” Kass squeezed her eyes shut tighter, focusing on his words, feeling his breath against her cheek.

  “Hold on for a little bit longer,” she said. “The ambulance will come—and they'll help you. And then we can go home and—”

  “Shhhhh.” Logan closed his own eyes and rested two fingers on Kass's lips. “Just listen.” She heard nothing. Even Laurel's sobs had subsided. Their audience was quiet as they looked on. Nobody moved. Below Kass's chest, she felt the blood from Logan's wound soak into her shirt and stain her skin. She didn't move, only prayed that the pressure of her body would subside the bleeding just a little bit longer.

  “Just hold on,” she told him. “Just a little while longer. Please, Logan. Please don't leave me.” She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

  “Listen,” Logan said again. “Can you hear it?” She caught her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, listening to the soft thumping of his heart against her cheek.

  “I feel it.”