Bait

by Mia Carson

  “I think we can make that work. Nick, be a dear and move closer to the desk?” Maya asked sweetly. Tim heard him spit in her face, and she gasped in disgust. The sound of flesh being slapped and Nick’s grunt of pain had Tim yanking even harder at his hands. “I said move closer!”

  Nick yelped and there was a struggle behind him, but Tim was helpless to do anything to help. He hurled curses, yelling at her to back off and leave Nick alone.

  “Oh, did you want some attention, too?” Maya sauntered towards him, resting her hands on his thighs. “See, you should have come with me and this could have all been avoided.”

  “You think I wouldn’t have noticed you had another boyfriend at some point? That you were stealing from my company?”

  “It’s not yours, sweetie. It’s been theirs all along, built from their money.”

  Tim lunged towards her, but with his hands tied, he couldn’t do anything. She trailed her fingers along his jaw and smashed her lips against his. He whipped his head away, catching her lips in his teeth and grinning darkly when she shrieked in pain. Her hand hauled back and his ears rung from the hit, but when he shook his head, he spotted a figure out his office window. Two figures, actually, and they were not Simone’s goons. Not if one of them had short black hair and the other was a cop. Chris’ eyes latched onto his, and she shook her head slightly before ducking out of sight again. Tim shook his head again, groaning loudly as if still in a massive amount of pain.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” he mumbled.

  “I told you not to hit him so hard,” Maya snapped at Sal. “You gave him a concussion.”

  “So? He’s just going to puke.”

  “If he pukes it will ruin the stage we’re about to set,” Simone growled. “Grab a trashcan.”

  Tim gagged, playing up the act he was going to be sick. Maya backed away quickly in case he was sick on her shoes. He spat for good measure, and Sal cursed when he couldn’t find a trashcan in Tim’s office.

  “There isn’t one here. He’ll have to hold it in,” Sal muttered.

  Tim cursed and groaned, his body shuddering as he pretended to hurl.

  “If he pukes, I can’t make it look like multiple murders followed by a suicide. Unless you want to wipe up puke, you will find a trash can.” Simone grabbed Sal by his shirtfront and tossed him out of the office, leaving Maya and Simone with their hostages.

  Manny’s left hand slipped free of the rope. He held it in his hand, giving the effect he was still tied up.

  “So that’s it then?” Tim said, drawing Simone’s attention to him as Sal wandered off across the dark floor. “You’re going to stage my suicide? You really think they’ll buy that?”

  “Of course they will. I’ve even typed you up a very heart-wrenching note.”

  “I’m not the type to kill myself. Everyone here knows it. The board members won’t believe it.”

  “No?” Simone argued. “I hear you have quite the temper, and when it comes out, people tend to get hurt. After all, you were really behind the embezzlement. Your poor assistant came here to confront you and ask you to turn yourself in, but you broke his arm in the struggle. The night guard ran in to stop you and you shot him, followed by your assistant, before turning the gun on yourself out of remorse.”

  Disgusted by the story of how his life would potentially end, Tim faked a gag again. Simone stepped away from him in a hurry.

  “And me? Why was I here?” Manny asked. “You can’t explain my death.”

  “Not here I can’t,” Simone agreed, “but if I kill you and dump your body in an alley near one of your recent boys on probation… well, they’re easy enough to frame. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  Manny huffed but did not go after the man, not yet. His eyes narrowed past Simone’s shoulder, and he lowered his head, hiding a smirk. Tim lifted his head casually, turning it to try and see Nick, but really, he scoured the floor for another sighting of Chris. He couldn’t find her, but he didn’t see Sal either. He didn’t mean to, but the insanity of learning what his life was really all about and being told how he was about to die caused laughter to bubble up within him. It started as a quiet chuckle before he let out a full-on, crazed belly laugh. His sides ached and his cheeks throbbed, but he didn’t stop, not even when Simone yelled at him and drew the gun and threatened to shoot him.

  “Ah, careful, you can’t shoot me first if I’m supposed to kill everyone else,” Tim reminded him.

  Simone’s finger lingered on the trigger. “You’re just like your father, thinking you can find your way out of any situation. You see where he ended up and here you are, ready to follow him.”

  “You sure about that?” Manny asked.

  Simone started to reply, but Manny’s hands whipped out and caught the man’s hand with the gun. Tim ducked to the side as a shot went off. Manny and Simone struggled as Maya screamed, leaping onto Manny’s back. Tim’s hands were still bound, but he felt another hand tugging at the knots. Nick knelt behind him, cursing through his pain as he tried to get Tim free.

  Manny elbowed Simone in the face, and the man fell back, his grip on the gun loosening until the detective snagged it. “How did you expect this night to go?”

  Simone wiped his arm across his face, smirking at the blood there. “You think you can get out of here alive?”

  “I think we have a fair chance.”

  Simone’s face paled as he turned slowly to see Chris and an officer standing in the doorway to Nick’s office, Sal held at gunpoint in front of her. “Harrison.”

  “Dowell, good to see you again,” she replied. “Tim?”

  “I’m fine,” he called out as the rope came free, and he stood, turning to help Nick to his feet. “We’re all fine.”

  Her eyes told him how happy she was to see him alive, but her face remained set in stone as she stared at the man who had killed Jeff Carson. The officer held onto Sal, leaving her free to aim her gun at Simone’s head.

  “Chris,” Manny warned in a growl, “remember you’re a cop.”

  “Yeah? Maybe for one night I don’t have to be,” she murmured.

  “Don’t,” Tim urged. “I want him dead too, but you can’t have his blood on your hands.”

  The gun trembled in her hand. “You don’t understand.”

  “Actually, I do. He killed my parents,” he told her. When her eyes widened in surprise, he shrugged. “Apparently, I’m not the self-made billionaire I thought I was. Long story.”

  “Clearly,” she agreed. Emotions warred on her face, but slowly, she lowered her gun and reached for the handcuffs at her belt instead. “Simone Dowell, you are under arrest for the murder of Jeff Carson, to start. The others will be charged to you in due time.”

  He snarled as she moved to cuff him. Light glinted off a blade in Maya’s hand where she stood off to the side. He yelled in warning, but Maya lunged towards Chris with a shriek, taking them both down to the floor. Manny moved to help, but a shot rang out, shattering the window of the office. The officer hit the floor, taking Sal with him. He was already handcuffed and scrunched into a tight ball, trying to protect himself as all hell broke loose. Tim dragged Nick behind the sturdy, wooden desk for protection and observed poor Ernie beside him.

  “Stay down,” he ordered.

  “You can’t go out there!” Nick yelled.

  “I can’t leave her to fight alone.”

  He poked his head out around the desk. Manny was on the floor, struggling over the gun with Simone. Chris yelled in pain, and he saw her with Maya on top of her, the knife pressing towards her chest. Gunshots ricocheted around them, coming from somewhere in the shadows Tim couldn’t see. Keeping low to the ground, he maneuvered around Manny and took a running leap at Maya. She went flying into a cubicle wall with a curse, and the knife skittered away in the dark. He grabbed Chris’ hand, staring at her face and body to see if she was hurt. A bullet whizzed past his head, and she shoved him to the floor.

  “You idiot! Are you trying to get
yourself killed?” she yelled.

  “Happy to see you too,” he shot back.

  She gifted him with a crooked smile before she looked to the officer. “Tony, can you get him?”

  “On it,” he grunted and moved down the line of cubicles.

  Manny grunted behind them, and they watched him go down hard. The gun was in Simone’s hands again. He pulled the trigger and Manny fell. Chris screamed his name, but Manny wasn’t out yet. Bleeding from the gunshot wound to his shoulder, he hoisted his body up and with a yell, drove Simone and himself through the remaining glass wall of Tim’s office.

  Chris hurried to help them when Maya screamed and grabbed a handful of her hair, slamming her into a cubicle, smashing through it and into the desk. As Chris struggled to get back up, Maya turned her crazed gaze to Tim, the knife back in her hand as she stalked towards him.

  “What’s wrong, lover, didn’t you miss me?” she purred.

  “You have no idea how much I did not,” he snapped, his eyes fixed on the blade. She swiped it through the air at him, cackling when he leapt back, trying to stay away from the sharp edge. She moved faster than he’d anticipated and the blade slashed down his arm. He cursed as warm blood dripped down his arm as she came at him again.

  “You bitch!” Chris wielded a piece of the cubicle wall in her hands like a bat and swung it down hard on Maya. She slumped to the floor in a heap, and Chris picked up the knife quickly. “Stay down.”

  Tim placed his hand on the knife wound, working to stem the blood flow when another shot rang out.

  “Tony… Tony!” Chris yelled.

  “I’m fine,” he hollered and she sagged in relief.

  “But you won’t be!” Simone yelled. The gun was aimed at Tim when he and Chris turned, and he pulled the trigger. Tim waited for the impact that would end his life, but Chris shoved him to the side and screamed as the shot shuddered through her body. They fell hard to the floor, and she groaned in pain as blood pooled on her shirt.

  “No… no!” Tim pressed his hands to the wound at her side as she cringed. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt, remember?”

  “I saved you, though,” she whispered.

  “Did you now?” Simone aimed the gun again, ready to fire when another shot struck him in the forehead. His hand went limp and the gun clattered to the floor at his feet, followed by his body. Sal yelled for his brother, crawling to his side, but the man was dead. Flashlight beams danced around as more cops rushed forward in tactical gear, led by Sergeant Merriweather. He observed Chris on the floor and Manny near Simone’s dead body.

  “Officers down—I repeat, officers down,” he said into his radio. “Along with wounded civilians. Get here now!”

  “Hey, Sarge,” Chris whispered as he knelt by her side.

  “Don’t talk. Lie still and do what I tell you,” Sarge ordered, his voice thick.

  Tim held his hands harder over the wound, willing the blood to stop flowing. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked.

  Merriweather’s grim face said he didn’t have an answer, and Tim’s heart shattered.

  “No—no, you have to hold on,” he told Chris, bending low to kiss her forehead. “You promised me you would come home alive in one piece and now…now we can make a home, a new one, just you and me.”

  She lifted a hand to cup his cheek, a weak smile gracing her lips. “I think I’d like that.”

  “Good, but just so you know, I’m pretty sure I’m broke.”

  “As long as you cook…I don’t…care.”

  “Open your eyes, Chris,” he said when they fluttered closed. “You have to look at me.”

  “I meant to tell you… had to tell you,” she rambled, licking her lips as her face paled. “I heard you that night…what you said.”

  A pained laugh escaped his lips. “I knew you did. You’re a terrible liar.”

  “Only to you… Tim…I love you…” Her hand fell from his cheek and her eyes closed.

  “No! Damn it! Chris, you can’t leave me, you can’t.”

  Merriweather placed his fingers at her neck. “She’s still got a pulse and she’s breathing. Keep the pressure on. Paramedics are on the way.”

  Tim’s hands couldn’t have moved, even if he tried. Cops swarmed around him, taking Maya and Sal away in handcuffs. Nick and Ernie were escorted from the building, the first squeezing Tim’s shoulder in comfort, but he was numb to it. She loved him, too, and took a bullet for him. He could not—would not—lose her. The paramedics arrived and lifted her onto a gurney, hurrying away with her.

  Tim tried to follow, but another paramedic stopped him, pointing to his wounded arm.

  “I need to patch you up first.”

  “I’m not leaving her,” he argued and pushed the man away.

  “Take care of him in the ambulance,” Merriweather ordered. “I’ll meet you there once I’m finished here.”

  The paramedic frowned but escorted Tim to the elevator, and they rode down with the others. Chris was already in the lobby when they reached it, and the doors dinged at the third elevator in the bank as more paramedics pulled a gurney with a wounded Manny on it. He was awake, though, and waved weakly at Tim before he was wheeled outside. Tim climbed inside the back of the ambulance, holding securely onto Chris’ hand as they pulled away from the curb. The paramedic cleaned up his wound and muttered something about stitches once they reached the hospital. His injuries were nothing. The bullet in her side was meant for him.

  You have to live, he murmured in his mind. You cannot leave me, you hear? Not now.

  “You have to stay here, sir,” the paramedic said as they wheeled Chris to surgery.

  “I’m fine,” he said and tried to move away again, but two nurses grabbed him and moved him towards a bed.

  “You need stitches. She’s in good hands,” one of the nurses assured him.

  “She better be,” he muttered and sat down reluctantly so they could tend to his arm.

  Chapter 14

  Nick sat in one of the waiting room chairs, his right arm in a sling. Ernie had recovered from his head wounds and was at home resting. Tony hadn’t been injured, but he and several other officers sat in the waiting room Tim circled for at least the fiftieth time. Merriweather leaned against the far wall, speaking quietly into his cell phone, his wife beside him, hugging her arms around her body as she chewed her bottom lip in worry. Manny was in recovery. The gunshot wound to his shoulder hadn’t been too severe. The glass had caused the most damage, scraping up his face and hands.

  “Sal’s spilling everything,” Merriweather said as he approached Tim. “About your parents and the last company he worked for.”

  “And the other board members? Did they know?”

  “There is some suspicion on Catherine Tullen, but the others are clean.”

  Catherine. It figured. “She brought Sal in.”

  “I’m sorry, Tim. If we had any idea it went this deep…” He trailed off, at a loss for words, but it was all right. Tim would walk away from everything, wipe his hands clean, and start over.

  “It’s been hours,” he whispered. “Why haven’t they come to talk to us yet?”

  Merriweather frowned. “I don’t know. She’s strong, though. She’ll make it.”

  Rubbing his hands over his face, Tim prayed he was right. With everything else in his life turning out to be one big, fat, fucking lie, he was not ready to lose the only true thing left: his love for Chris. He paced the small space until the doors at the end of the hall opened. A man in green scrubs hastened to them, pulling his mask down from his face.

  “Are you all here for Detective Harrison?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Tim announced, frantic for news. “How is she?”

  “The bullet came close to her kidney, but she was lucky. The bleeding took a while to stop, but she’ll be fine. Weeks of bed rest, mind you, but she’ll pull through. We’re moving her to recovery.”

  Tim’s legs gave out, but Merriweather and a few other officers wer
e there to catch him, holding each other up in their relief to hear she would make it.

  “I’ll let one visitor sit with her. Does she have family here?”

  “She has her boyfriend,” Merriweather answered and nodded encouragingly to Tim. “Tell her we’re thinking of her and we’re all here waiting for her to get better.”

  Tim shook his hand and followed the doctor down the hall to the recovery wing of the hospital. He directed Tim to a door and smiled.

  “It’ll be a while before she wakes up, and don’t let her strain herself when she does.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he whispered. The doctor moved away down the hall, and taking a deep breath, Tim pushed open the door and stepped inside. The rhythmic beeping of her heart monitor made his gut clench and seeing her lying in bed, pale and bruised from the fighting, reminded him too much of the nightmare he’d had. “Chris.”

  He reached the bed and held her hand securely in his. Words failed him, so he simply watched her, kissing each knuckle, and when his eyes drooped out of sheer exhaustion, he dragged the chair to her bedside and laid his head on his arms. She would live. His fingers strayed to her wrist, the thumping beneath her skin reassuring him she was really there. He closed his eyes and fell sleep.

  A hand held hers, warm and solid. Chris clung to it, her eyes blinking open. Soft sunlight flowed through the blinds. Morning? Or was it setting? She pushed her hand to the bed to sit up, but pain ripped across her side and she gasped.

  “Chris?” A head popped up at the side of the bed, and she frowned at the ragged face staring back at her. “Can you hear me?”

  “Tim?” Her voice was rough and raspy.

  “Yeah, it’s me. How do you feel?”

  She swallowed, her mouth parched. “Like I was hit by a truck.”

  “Close enough.” He poured her a cup of water and held it to her lips so she could sip it. “You scared the shit out of me—all of us, actually.” He set the cup down and reached for her hand again. “Do you remember what happened?”