by Eden Summers
“Get back,” he repeats, his arm reaching out to guide me into submission.
He ignores my plan—ignores me in general—as he creeps closer to the edge of our island hiding place and sneaks a peek around the cupboards.
“Don’t shoot, Nis,” Cole demands. “He won’t kill me.”
Luther won’t kill him? Is he kidding?
I fumble onto my haunches, preparing to make a run for salvation as Luther drawls out a pithy insult. I either want to die in a rain of bullets or be completely freed. I won’t sit by as the devil regains the upper hand so he can draw out my punishment for days.
Weeks.
Months.
I’m about to make a run for it when Luca lunges for me, his trunk of an arm tackling me around the waist to haul me back into him.
I fight his hold as he drags me between his legs, his thighs closing in around me, the knife clutched in his free hand.
“Quit it,” he growls low in my ear, his voice barely audible over the threats and demands being continuously flung around the armed standoff. “Cole needs to finish this. It’s his right. Otherwise I would’ve already done it myself.”
I shake my head, denying his words and the voices screaming in my skull.
My instincts demand I take action.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispers. “Trust me.”
I keep shaking my head, over and over, trying to drown out the mania.
I’m going to be tied to a table. I’ll be brutalized by anyone and everyone who enters Luther’s house.
“He’s safe, Anissa,” Luca speaks louder. “Give Cole your gun and let him finish this.”
I struggle to focus on the conversation. Who’s safe? Cole? Tobias?
Doesn’t Luca realize nobody is free from harm when Luther is armed?
I wiggle, attempting to break free of his strong hold but Luca grips me tighter, hugging my back to his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Just drown it out. This will be over soon.”
I try. I concentrate so hard on escaping to my mental sanctuary. I hide in silence, in darkness, and still the panic finds me.
Cole’s slurred words brush the edge of my consciousness.
The woman’s demands haunt me.
Then Luca speaks up. “I’m not hiding, asshole. I’m giving Cole space to finish this his way. And if he can’t, I’m on standby with a knife in my hand, ready and willing to slit your throat.”
There’s so much vehemence in his tone. A wealth of determined conviction.
I want to believe him.
I can picture this man sinking his blade into my enemy’s neck. But he won’t. He can’t.
Not when Luther always wins.
Evil. Always. Conquers.
Luca holds me tighter. I can’t stop fighting and I’m not sure if it’s because I want to escape his touch or I fear he’ll soon be killed if I don’t act.
It’s too much.
It’s all too much.
“Give him your gun.” Luca waves at the woman. “Let him finish this.”
No. No.
I rock harder, willing the madness away. Begging for my life to be over.
I can’t go back. I won’t.
The woman steps out of view and I sense a change in the air. The tension builds around us.
“Cole, I’m going to shoot,” she announces. “I can’t let him take another step.”
Luther must be close. Almost within range of the island counter.
Luca loosens his hold and slides out from behind me, his weapon at the ready, his body crouching lower as if preparing for battle.
I need to fight.
I can’t hide. I can’t show weakness. But that’s what my potential savior is asking of me—to remain vulnerable. To cower.
I slide back to the wall, bow my head and jam my fingers into my ears. It’s all I can do to stop myself from running for that gun when everything inside me is screaming to fight, fight, fight.
I rock on my haunches like a child. I pretend it’s only a matter of time before Luther is taken down, when in reality I know he’s seconds away from killing this woman… then his adult son… followed by the man at my side… then me.
“Stop. Luther. Stop,” she yells. “Release the gun or I’ll shoot.”
I can still hear her. The panic. The fear.
I rock harder. Faster.
“Cole?” the woman pleads.
I can feel Luther behind me. It’s as if he’s right there, peering down, the whole world entirely still. Only me and him. Power pitted against instability.
Pop.
I jerk backward at the sudden blast, my ears ringing, my head filling with static.
Luca rushes to his feet and I frantically scramble to follow, both of us joining the woman who stands tall, and Cole who is hunched on the tile, as we stare at Luther laid flat on the floor.
Blood seeps from his mouth as he gurgles and splutters, the gun remaining tight in his grip.
My tormentor continues to breathe, his chest rising and falling while the barrel of his weapon slowly edges its way toward his son.
He’s going to shoot. He’s going to—
Pop.
Pop.
I jump with the explosions.
Pop.
Pop.
Anissa keeps shooting, over and over until the wild bursts of noise resemble hollow clicks and the man who stole my life stares blankly ahead. Not breathing. Not blinking.
Dead.
I always anticipated blinding happiness when I fantasized about this moment. I thought I’d want to laugh. To dance. To celebrate.
None of the jubilation hits me.
There’s no bliss. Not even peace.
I’m still hollow.
Empty.
Until Tobias’s sweet voice calls from the hall. “Baba? Baba?”
7
Luca
I keep seeing her. The frantic rush across the room. The desperate way she scooped the kid into her arms and carried him into the hall.
I thought about nothing but Penny as Cole and I loaded the dead bodies onto Luther’s boat. I escorted those fuckers out to sea while Cole tailed me in another vessel.
It wasn’t hard to dispose of the evidence.
I weighed down the cadavers and threw them overboard, keeping watch until they sank from view. Then I gave Cole instructions on how to rig his father’s boat to drive unaided, because my head throbbed so much I couldn’t fucking do it myself.
Even now, as I clean my own blood off the living room wall, my brain protests every movement. It feels like I’m one sneeze away from an aneurism. Or a fucking stroke.
And still, Penny plagues my thoughts. She’s been left alone for too long. Both her and the kid. The only reason I know they haven’t attempted escape is because the sound of a sniffling child continues to echo down the hall.
“When are you going to speak to the boy?” I ask Cole.
He stops scrubbing the crimson splotches on the floor and leans back on his haunches. “I’m not sure. I thought it might be better to wait until his father’s insides are cleaned off the tile.”
I grate my teeth at his sarcasm. “The longer you leave it, the harder it will be.”
“Then you go.” He jerks his chin at me. “Play the hero. Go beat your chest and attempt to win over Decker’s sister. See how far it gets you.”
I ignore the derision and scrub harder, the pungent scent of bleach searing my nostrils.
This isn’t about me ‘playing the hero.’
She’s been through hell, not only today, but for God knows how long. She’s fragile. Temperamental. Volatile.
From the way she rocked behind the kitchen counter, I’d say she’s one gentle gush of wind away from crumpling like a deck of cards.
It’s in our best interest to keep an eye on her.
“Go on, Captain America,” Cole drawls. “Save her from isolation.”
Fuck it.
Fuck him.
He’s been a major asshole since his father’s murder, and I get it, the situation didn’t end how he anticipated. He didn’t take out the head of his family. A woman did. A Fed.
He made the mistake of sleeping with the enemy who swept the victory out from underneath him. But that’s not my fault. I’d warned him about getting close to Anissa.
“Fine.” I throw my cloth to the floor. “I will.”
I stalk for the hall and follow the sound of a sniffing child all the way to my bedroom door. And there they are, huddled on the floor beneath the windowsill, Tobias snuggled in Penny’s tight embrace.
As soon as I breach the threshold she stiffens, her panicked gaze meeting mine.
“It’s okay.” I creep inside the room. “I just wanted to see how you two are holding up.”
The boy eyes me as if I’m his worst nightmare, his arms clutched around Penny’s middle, his legs curled close to hers.
“We’re dealing the best we can.” She runs a hand through Tobias’s hair, her mothering entirely natural.
“Can I get you anything? Food? Something to drink?”
Her gaze slowly treks me—from my face, all the way down to my hands. I do the same, taking in the blood splatter. Death stains every inch of me. My clothes. My skin. Some dried and cracking, other parts remaining liquified.
“I probably should’ve taken a quick look in the mirror before I came in.”
She winces in agreement. “What’s going on out there?”
I slowly inch to the bed and sit on the corner farthest from them, attempting a laidback demeanor. “We’re just finishing the clean-up.”
“What about the other woman? Is she still with you?”
“Anissa? No.” I tread lightly in the hope Penny won’t repeat information she never should’ve been privy to. “She’s outside, clearing her head.”
More accurately, I escorted her from the house because Cole couldn’t stand to look at her. I’m sure she’s down at the pier by now, impatiently waiting for a ticket out of here.
“I’d like to speak to her.”
“Maybe later. For now, it’s best if we all keep our distance It’s been a long morning.”
She falls quiet, her dark eyes filling with questions. “Can you at least tell me what happens next?”
“In terms of a detailed schedule, I have no idea.” I shrug. “But you’re not a prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She sucks in a breath and straightens. “Good. Because I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’d be eager to get home, too. But it’s going to take time. We’re waiting on a jet—”
“No, I don’t mean going home to the States. I’m talking about Luther’s house. I need to get back there.”
“What?” I push to my feet and she scrambles to do the same, panicked caution flooding her features.
“We need to leave.” She drags Tobias to stand alongside her. “We have to get back to my sisters.”
She straightens to her full height like a mighty warrior climbing from the pits of hell. But her invisible armor is flimsy at best. The bravado she exudes is fake. I can see under the facade to the frightened woman beneath.
I shake my head and mentally curse the resulting thud of my brain. “That’s not an option.”
“So I am a prisoner?” she rasps.
I massage my temples, attempting to alleviate the quickly building stroke. “If we’re talking about being captive to your own stupidity, then yeah, I guess you’re a prisoner. Because there’s no way in hell you’re leaving here until it’s safe.”
Her nostrils flare as I witness the little trust I’d gained flitter away with every spite-filled blink of her eyes.
“Look.” I lower a hand from my temple, raising it, palm up, in peace. “It’s not rational for you to be anywhere but here.”
“It’s not safe for my family if I stay.” She starts for the door, Tobias tagging along at her side.
“Your family?” I stalk ahead and block their path. “I can assure you, they’re fine. In fact, your brother is on his way here as we speak.”
She stops, her eyes flaring, her gentle lips parted. Then the shock is hidden behind another firm squaring of her shoulders. “I don’t have a brother.”
Jesus Christ.
Not this shit again.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding you,” she grates. “The only family I have are the women living in Luther’s mansion, the ones who are fearing for my safety. The ones who are currently under more threat than I’ve ever been.”
“They’ll be okay. Cole will pull some strings and make sure they’re taken care of.”
“What strings?” Her question is flung like an accusation. “There are no strings when it comes to Luther’s operation. The police won’t help you. The locals won’t either. Dead or not, Luther is still entirely in control, which means they’re sitting ducks unless I can get to them.”
The kid lets out a big sniffle, the sound shooting into my skull like another motherfucking bullet. I’m dying here. Slowly succumbing to the mental torment.
“I said we’d handle it.” I return to massaging my temples. “You can trust me.”
“I can trust you?” She frowns with incredulity. “The man who claims I’m not a prisoner, yet refuses to let me leave?”
Maybe if my brain wasn’t currently being shoved through a grater I’d admire her tenacity, but this shit is getting old. For starters, Cole would never let her sail away from here with his half-brother. Not when she’s not the kid’s mother. She hasn’t been missing long enough to carry the same blood as the child.
“I’m going to call your brother.” I don’t want to spoil the reunion. As far as Decker is concerned, his sister is dead. But I’m clutching at straws here. I don’t know how else to get her to back down apart from pulling the cell from my jeans pocket. “You can speak to him for yourself. He can reassure you I’m trustworthy.”
“No.”
I dial his number anyway.
“I said no.” Her expression turns frantic. Wide eyes. Pale skin. She’s more scared now than when she was trying to jab me in the neck with a fucking syringe. “Turn it off.”
I don’t.
Instead, I switch the phone to speaker, the loud ring torture to my ears. “He thought he lost you a long time ago—”
“I said turn it off.” She snatches for the device, attempting to claw it from my hand.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hold the phone out of reach, the ringing continuing. “I thought you’d be excited to speak to family after all this time.”
“I don’t have a family.” Her breathing becomes ragged. “Not back there. Not in the States. The only family I have is here.”
She grabs at my arms, trying to get hold of the device, but the moment the call connects she freezes, her entire body turned to stone.
“This is me.” Decker’s voice fills the room. “Leave a message.”
I bring the phone toward her as the answering service releases a high-pitched beep.
She doesn’t speak. All she does is stare at the cell framed in my blood-stained hand.
“Are you going to say something?” I inch the phone closer.
She shakes her head, still staring.
Fucking hell.
I disconnect the call and place the device back in my jeans pocket.
“He’s on his way.” I lower my voice, trying like hell to comfort her as she wages a war behind those stricken eyes. “You’re going to see him any minute now.”
“No.” She steps back, taking the kid with her. “I don’t want to see him.”
She’s in shock. Fight or flight. Or any number of fucked up mental challenges associated with the shit storm she’s been through. But she’s on the home straight now. This is where her healing begins.
“It’s okay.” I reach for her, not sure what the fuck I’m doing. “You’re safe.”
“No.” She sl
inks away from my touch, backtracking again and again. “No.”
Fuck.
She’s crumpling and that kid is about to go down with her if she doesn’t pull up from the nose-dive.
“Penny, you’re safe.” I follow her, getting close to make sure she can hear, see, and feel my sincerity. “Robert, Chris, and Luther are gone. All the shit you’ve been through is over. And I swear on my own brother’s life I’m going to get you home.”
She shakes her head faster and faster, her breathing fractured as she stares right through me.
“I’ve got you.” I reach out again, attempting to calm her with a touch. “It’s going to be—”
“No.” She scoots away. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to see any of them. I just want to leave.”
I let her place space between us, taking it as a win that she’s finally acknowledged her brother, no matter how minimal the admission.
“Penny…” Tobias tangles his fingers in her blouse, pulling the material down until he’s close to popping a button. “I’m scared.”
Her hyperventilating lessens.
Everything dilutes—the shaking of her head, the blink of fear-filled eyes. She reins in her crazy for the boy’s sake.
“I’m sorry.” She pivots to him, engulfing his shoulders in her arms to pull him tight against her. “There’s no need to be scared. I’m just a little…”
“Overwhelmed?” I offer.
She winces and follows it up with a nod. “He’s right. I’m overwhelmed.”
“Is he still a bad man?” the kid mumbles, looking at me from his shielded position against her side. “Dad said he was telling Cole bad things.”
Great. Fucking great.
I turn my attention to Penny and raise a brow. I’m not touching the kid’s question with a ten-foot pole. One, because he sure as shit won’t believe me. And two, because I have no idea what the fuck his scumbag father told him.
“We’re going to be okay.” She runs a hand through his hair, the placation timid at best. “Luca is trying to help us.”
Trying?
My fucking ass I’m trying.
I conquered that bullshit when I risked my life to run through a spray of bullets and tackle her to safety.
We both know I mastered that motherfucker like a pro, but I don’t have the focus or patience to point out the obvious.