by Lara Wynter
In the deepest places of my mind, I’ve been expecting this. I know Rudy well enough to know that with cops sniffing around and me gone… Well, he’s not an idiot.
Of course, he’ll suspect me.
Of course, he’ll come after me.
I slip quietly into the hall and creep along. Shadows climb the walls, giving everything a sinister feel. A shiver runs through me. The door to the bathroom is open. I take another step, my heart in my throat. A booted foot comes into view. Edging forward, my eyes take in the body on the floor, a pool of blood around the gaping head wound.
Detective Smoak will never look at me again, will never laugh or smile, never get to complain about his roast beef sandwiches, or go home to his family.
I stumble back against the wall. My mind struggles to come to terms with the horror in front of me.
“Joss?” I whisper, turning away from the gruesome scene. We need to get out of here. Why haven’t they come bursting in through the door? Are they in the house? The blood rushes through my ears. I’m an unwitting mouse caught up in a deadly game I never wanted to play.
Think, think. What did we plan if the house became compromised? But all my brain dredges up is a never ending replay of Detective Smoak on the floor in an ever-growing pool of red.
My mind switches to a slideshow of Joss, lying in a pool of blood. “No.” I shake my head, attempting to clear the unwanted images. Where is he? Why isn’t he here, telling me the plan? He said he wouldn’t leave me.
I suck in a deep breath. I’ve seen terrible things before. Freaking out now is not going to get me to safety.
There is a plan. I know the plan.
My feet tread on a loose floorboard. The creak sounds like a shotgun blast to my hypersensitive ears. I force myself to ignore it and open the door to the basement. Slipping through, I shut the door behind me. I should lock it, but I can’t make myself, not without Joss beside me. He can yell at me later, but his safety is more important to me than my own. My life has been leading me to this point, but he’s just an innocent victim caught up in my mess. It’s been one thing after another since we met that day in the stables.
I grip the handrail tightly and make my way down the darkened stairs. As I get further down, more light from the moon filters in through the small windows, making the last few stairs faintly visible. The room is empty. The door that should be guarded is not. It’s not even closed, and cool night air blows in, causing a shiver to run through me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Willow
A drop of sweat runs down my forehead and drips into my eye. I blink it away as I peer out the door and up the steep steps leading into the backyard. If I run up the steps, will one of Rudy’s thugs be waiting to take me back? In my mind, the scene plays out. He grabs me and laughs at my foolish notion that I could actually escape, that I could ever be free of Rudy’s clutches. If only I had thought to grab a weapon of some sort.
I don’t even have my phone. They took it away before we came to the safe house. I should have been more prepared for this eventuality. Instead, I let the feelings of being trapped in this place get to me.
I need a plan. If there is someone waiting at the top of the steps, I need to surprise them enough to get past. As much as I want to wait for Joss, I can’t. If anyone else finds me down here, I’ll have no chance at all. In my mind, I picture the small backyard. There are no obstacles to hide behind, so I need to run straight for the back fence. If I make it that far without a bullet in the back, I need to clear the fence in one go. The house adjoining this one is unknown. We weren’t allowed outside to check it out.
After that, I’ll have to wing it.
A loud thud comes from above me. Joss! Can I really leave him to save myself? But what if it isn’t joss?
Stuff it all and screw the plan. I can’t live with myself if I get out and Joss doesn’t. I race back through the large basement and up the stairs. At the top, I hesitate, placing my hand on the door. Putting one ear against the wood, I strain to hear any sound in the hall beyond.
The doorknob is yanked out of my hand, and I fall forward.
Strong arms catch me and set me upright.
“Damn it, Willow. What are you still doing here?”
I pull Joss onto the small landing at the top of the stairs and shut the door, making sure to lock it this time. “I couldn’t leave without you.” I’m glad I can’t see his expression in the semi-darkness.
He grasps my hand. “Come on. We have to get out of here. We can talk about this after we’re safe.”
We hurry down the steps and through the darkened room. “What happened up there?”
“Later,” Joss whispers as he tugs me through the door. “Stay behind me.”
“No,” I whisper. “I’ll go first. It’s my fault we’re in this mess.”
“It’s your testimony that can put Gadsden behind bars. I’ll go first.” Joss whispers, the frustration clear in his voice.
I push him back, both palms flat against his chest. “I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt. I’ll go first.”
His eyes shine in the moonlight, his dark hair gently brushing his forehead. “Together then?”
I smile. “You got it.”
Hand in hand we race up the steps.
“Don’t stop no matter what happens.”
“I won’t.” I reply, knowing in my heart it’s a lie. If Joss gets hurt, I won’t leave him at the mercy of Rudy’s thugs.
We clear the steps and sprint across the dewy grass, not looking back. My heart thunders in my ears as we reach the fence. Before I can start to climb, Joss lifts me up and tosses me over like a rag doll. I land on the grass on the other side with a thud. The air whooshes from my lungs, and I struggle to take a breath. Joss vaults over me as wood splinters shatter above my head.
I manage to roll onto my hands and knees and push myself up.
Joss crouches down and offers me a hand. “Can you run?”
“They’re shooting at us!” I say in disbelief. The wood beside me splinters again.
Joss scoops me into his arms and runs through the garden, hunched over for the limited protection of the fence and garden. We reach a gate and he somehow manages to push it open while holding me in his arms.
We emerge onto the sidewalk of a quiet suburban street.
“You can put me down. I can run.”
Ignoring me, Joss turns left and increases his pace. “You’ve been shot.” His eyes are shadowed as he jogs along the empty street.
I look down in disbelief at the hole in my jeans and the dark stickiness. “I can’t feel it.” And just like that, the pain slams into me like it was waiting for me to notice.
Joss’s breath comes out in ragged pants as he crosses the street and heads down a different road. This street is darker than the one before. The area looks rougher. Overhead, the streetlight has been broken.
“You need to put me down. You don’t sound so good.”
Joss draws in a labored breath. “I’m… fine,” he says, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
I struggle in his arms. “Put me down.”
“Can’t… have to… put some… distance—”
“Put me down right now!” I whisper frantically. “I think you must have been shot too.”
“I think… you might… be… right.”
“There,” I point to a brick wall in front of a block of flats. “We’ll be out of sight of the road.”
Joss bypasses the wall and heads into the underground parking garage. It’s further, but I guess it offers much better protection from our attackers. We get to a dark, dingy stairwell. A flickering fluorescent bulb offers a small respite from the darkness. Joss, struggling to draw a breath, finally puts me down.
Exquisite pain shoots up my injured leg. I transfer as much weight as I can to my good leg and rest one arm against the wall for support.
Joss’s legs buckle, and he begins to fall. I reach out and grab him from behind. His weight on my in
jured leg causes it to buckle, and I fall back against the wall. We slide together down the wall and onto the cold concrete. Joss’s eyes roll back in his head and then close.
“Joss! Joss, stay with me.” I look at his chest, but I can’t see any obvious damage. I slide my arm out from behind him, feeling a familiar sticky wetness coat my fingers. He’s been shot in the back.
He needs to go to the hospital right now. I search his pockets frantically, desperately hoping he has his phone on him somewhere. I cry out when I find nothing.
My hands reach up to clasp his face. “Joss, stay with me, baby. I need to go and get help, but I’ll be right back. I need to call an ambulance.”
Time is of the essence, so I bolt up the stairs. The faulty bulb above flickers off and on like a scene from some macabre movie. A row of doors stretch out in front of me. I run to the first door and thump my fist against it. Not waiting for a response, I move to the next door and hit it as hard as I can.
“Help! I need help.”
I sob in between desperate cries. Why is no one answering their door? Are they all too afraid to get involved?
I move to the other side of the hall and raise my fist. The door opens in front of me. An old lady in a white nightgown blinks sleepily at me. Her eyes become alert as she takes in my bruised and bloody appearance.
“Come in,” she tries to usher me into her austere apartment.
I shake my head vehemently. “I can’t! My friend’s been shot. He needs an ambulance.” My body trembles at the thought of Joss slumped on the stairway, barely breathing.
“Where is he?” she asks, her tone now efficient and authoritative.
“In the stairwell. Quick! We need to hurry, he’s having trouble breathing.”
The old lady, her gray curls bobbing, snatches up her mobile phone and calls 911. She hobbles quickly to another room and returns with a small bulging black bag.
“Take me to him.”
I nod, relieved she seems so calm and in control. “This way. I lead her down the hall and back into the stairwell. Joss is still slumped against the wall in the same position.
She checks his pulse and nods to herself. She opens up her bag, which turns out to be a first aid kit.
The old woman hands me a bandage. “Wrap this tightly around your leg, you’re losing a lot of blood.”
“But, Joss—”
“I’ll take care of your friend. I need you to take care of your own wound. I’m sure Joss wouldn’t want you bleeding out on my stairwell.”
I take the bandage from her hand. Immediately staining it with bloody fingerprints. Wrapping the bandage around my leg makes me cry out in pain. I bite down on my shirt and continue to wrap the bandage around my leg as tightly as I can. Blood continues to seep through the layers but becomes less obvious the more times I go around. Finally, I reach the end and tuck it underneath to secure it.
I slump back against the wall. I just want to close my eyes, but I can’t. I need to help Joss if I can.
Sirens wail in the distance, rapidly becoming louder. What if Rudy’s men are just waiting to take us out? I should have asked the woman if they were sending police as well as an ambulance. Have I put more people in danger? These sirens will alert anyone nearby to our exact location.
“Are they sending the police?”
“They should be here soon,” the old woman grunts.
“Is he still breathing?”
She spares me a sympathetic glance. “Yes, but he needs more help than I can give him.”
The flashing lights of the ambulance enter the underground carpark. I push myself to my feet and wave both arms over my head.
They stop and hurry over with their medical equipment. In no time at all, they have Joss onto a gurney and into the back of the ambulance.
I turn back to the old lady, her once white nightgown, now covered in blood. “Thank you. I don’t even know your name.”
She holds up a hand in farewell. “Janice.”
And just like that, I’m hit with another memory.
An old man wearing corduroy pants and a gray knit sweater pats my knee affectionately.
“Janice, my love, you really shouldn’t feed her all that chocolate right before lunch.”
I look up with wide eyes at the woman with the long silver hair up in a bun. She smiles at me, her eyes crinkling in delight.
“Hush now, Hugo, it’s my job to spoil my only grandchild.”
I push more of the chocolate bar past my lips. The chocolate is melted and smeared all over my small, pudgy fingers. I smile.
“See,” Janice says. “She’s so happy. A little chocolate never hurt anybody.”
Hugo smiles fondly at us both. “You know Melissa won’t be pleased when she comes to collect her.”
I shove the rest of the chocolate into my mouth. I don’t want anyone to take it from me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Joss
The beeping from the monitors drags me from sleep. I blink against the bright lights. Blythe O’Connor sits beside my hospital bed, tapping away on her phone at inhuman speed. What the heck is the band’s manager doing here? Where is Willow?
Blythe looks up from her phone and smiles. “Ah, good. You’re awake finally.”
“What do you mean, finally?”
“I mean, I’ve had the press hounding me for thirty-six hours about your condition. I don’t know how they found out, but they did. And when a world famous rock star gets shot in the back doing who-knows what, who-knows-where, it makes headlines worldwide.”
I groan. This is going to make things that much worse for Willow. I glance at my door, unsurprised to see two police officers standing guard.
“Where’s Willow? Is she alright?”
Blythe’s gaze slips to the side, breaking eye contact. “She’s fine. It was a through and through. The bullet didn’t cause any major damage. They patched her up and discharged her yesterday.”
I try to sit up, but the pain forces me back against the bed. “Why isn’t she here? I can’t believe she’d willingly leave me here without even knowing I’m ok… without even talking to me first.”
Blythe sighs. “I didn’t say she left willingly. Poor girl didn’t have much of a say in the matter. She was whisked away as soon as the press turned up.”
“I need to speak to Jasper. Is he here?” Jasper will know what’s going on and hopefully where Willow is, but if they’ve taken her back into hiding, it may be hard to find out now that we’ve been separated. It was hard enough to get them to agree to me staying with her the first time.
“He went to get coffee. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly,” Blythe says dismissively. “We have more important things to consider. We need to decide what story we give to the press. The rest of your bandmates refused to say a word about anything. Jasper told me a little of what’s been going on, but nothing I can actually use. I can’t believe he let you get so involved with that little hussy. What was he thinking?”
My blood boils. “Blythe, you're fired!”
That gets her attention. She clacks her long shiny nails against the metal railing of the bed. “Are you high? You can’t just fire me. I’ve worked for Chasing Forever for the past four years! I’ve protected you from so many things you couldn’t even begin to understand.”
I look her dead in the eyes. “And I thank you for that. But if you call Willow a hussy, then you’re fired.” My voice is low and firm.
Her eyes go wide. “You can’t be serious about her? She’ll end your career, Joss. If you get caught up with that sort of criminal element, it won’t end well. That sort never does.”
“Get out.”
Blyth stands and straightens her pencil skirt. “You’ll regret this decision, Jossen Reid.”
“I’ll regret listening to you slander the woman I love more.”
Blythe shakes her head and leaves the room, her heels clicking on the linoleum as she walks away.
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. It hurts.
My whole chest feels like it’s been run over. I cough and the pain radiates through me.
A doctor comes in, closely followed by Jasper. Finally, I can get some answers.
I pay scant attention as the doctor explains how the bullet in my back collapsed one lung. How the surgery was successful but that it will take a few months for me to fully heal. That they have me on antibiotics to ward off infection. That I will eventually make a full recovery. But all I feel is Willow slipping further and further away from me.
They tried to get me to go home. But home is too far away. If Willow needs me, I need to be close enough to get to her. I only wish I knew where they took her.
I sit propped up in my bed, overlooking Puget Sound. I think she’ll like it here if she wants to stay in Seattle. If she’d rather move, I'll sell this house even though I bought it for her. I just want to know that she is safe. I just want her to be able to come home.
Our upcoming tour has been postponed indefinitely. The press has still been sniffing around for the story, but no one is talking. As bad as I feel for the rest of the band about canceling the tour, I’m happy for them that all this publicity has parked our album “Finding Forever” at number one on the charts. I can’t muster up any enthusiasm for our record sales and positive reviews, though. I just want to know where Willow is and if she’s safe. The thought repeats in my mind like a broken record.
My fervent hope is that this time alone is giving her what she needs. Time to discover that she can stand on her own. And that one day, she might be free of the ties that bind her and free to come back to me.
Jasper comes into the room, an uncharacteristic smile on his face.
“Hey, boss. There’s someone here to see you.”
I grimace. “Not today. I’m not up for any well-meaning well-wishers today.”
“Sorry, but I can’t accommodate your request.”
“Wha—”
He raises an eyebrow. “I think this is one person you’ll want to see.”
My heart thumps in my chest, even though I know it can’t be her. Gadsden has managed to evade the police for weeks now. Willow is still in protective custody — somewhere.