Edges of Gone (The Gone Series Book 2)

by Jessica Gouin

  Without consideration, I rise and begin to move toward him. Drew’s head turns in my direction and our gaze locks. His eyes, sour and heartless, bore into me then the sick fuck’s mouth curves at the corners into a grin.

  Red.

  All I see and all I want is his blood on my bare hands. He has no remorse, no guilt for what he’s done. No amount of time in prison will be enough. He needs to die.

  I lunge forward into the room, but I don’t get within reach of him. Not even close before I’m stopped. Hard arms block me and strong hands grab my wrists, pinning them behind my back. Revenge becomes distant until all I see is a closing door and a growing smile through the crack.

  “Let me go!” I yell to whoever has their claws on me.

  “If you don’t calm down, you’ll be arrested.”

  That voice. I know that goddamn voice. It was the one that entered my home to console my wife.

  “Get the fuck off me, Hudson.”

  He and another cop continue to escort me toward the elevator banks. I’m breathing heavy and my vision remains cloudy from the pure revulsion coursing through my veins. Someone jabs at buttons, and, within seconds, there’s a soft ping followed by opening doors.

  “Get back in there, Terrell. I’ll see to it he vacates the premises.”

  Terrell nods and leaves then it’s just Hudson and me in the small space. What I wouldn’t give for this guy to be just another alpha-douchebag who I could put in place. No, he has to be untouchable.

  “Do you realize how stupid that was? What the hell were you thinking?”

  I glare at him. “I was thinking that someone has to man-up and do what needs to be done.”

  Hudson snorts and shifts his weight, shaking his head. “If anyone needs to man-up, it’s you.”

  We reach the first level and the elevator sounds. I step forward to exit, needing to put a lot of space between my fist and his face.

  “Sloane needs you to get your shit together. You should do it before someone else gladly steps in.”

  The door closes before I can react to his words. Heated, I turn around to punch the closest thing, but I’m standing in the middle of a courthouse full of uniforms and badges. With every ounce of self-preservation I can gather, I calmly leave the building without any answers or knowledge of the outcome of the hearing.

  I may not have been able to control what happened in there, but I can control what happens out here.

  I need to find the closest fucking bar that will be open at ten in the morning.

  SEVENTEEN

  Sloane

  I stare at the words on my cell phone screen that came an hour ago, and chew my bottom lip. I should reply.

  But really, I shouldn’t reply.

  He’s only trying to be nice because he knows today is the day Drew stands before the judge again.

  Thinking of you today. It’ll all be okay no matter what happens.

  I wish more than anything those words came from my spouse. Not an officer who has no business texting me. It feels wrong on every level, yet it feels so validated at the same time. Owen’s the only man to hold my attention and love me for so long that even the thought of another guy is appalling.

  Then Owen pushed and shoved me, causing my hold on my husband to slowly release. Nash slid right into my world and upended everything I thought I knew. He makes me feel safe in a way that seems out of reach, a sense of security that died beside my best friend. An attraction sizzles and sparks when we’re within three feet of each other and it’s becoming hard to ignore.

  Owen has returned to work at Adam’s Automotive and has been walking Noah to school every morning. I can tell he’s trying. Heck, he’s even going to grief counseling which I know he absolutely hates. But a part of him still hasn’t returned to me yet, like he’s holding a piece back—and it reminds me of the same feeling that lingers in the air just before a storm hits. The sun is out and shining, but everything inside of me screams it’s just a matter of time before it rains down and washes the good away.

  Inside, a tiny part of me holds back, too. I’m terrified I’ll wake up and he’ll be gone. He’s been on the edge for so long it seems imaginary Owen’s trying at all. Like I’m making the whole thing up inside my head. I’m not even sure what changed for him. Something I did? Something I said? Was it even me at all?

  Owen frightened me so much it changed everything. It altered the way I perceive him. Not that I think any less of him, I never would. It just made me realize how quickly something I need so desperately can be taken away from me without warning.

  I barely survived the last time I lost everything. If that happened again, I don’t think I could hang on.

  “What’s wrong with your face?”

  My gaze wavers from my phone to Immy lurking in front of me. She passes me a coffee cup as she tilts her head to one side like a confused puppy.

  “Nothing is wrong with my face. What kind of question is that?”

  She moves her finger in little circles in front of me. “Yep. Something’s definitely wrong with you today. Spill it.”

  I huff, knowing she won’t drop it until we have our little chat and she thinks I feel better about whatever is bothering me. We’ve been down this road since she started working for me. She’s watched too many episodes of Fuller House, I swear. “Today’s the day the judge will decide if Drew is mentally stable to stand trial. I’m kind of freaking out. I just want this to be over. I need him to be locked behind bars for the rest of his life so we can all finally move on fully with ours.”

  “Wow. That’s big. Today’s a big day.”

  “It is. I feel like we’re so close, you know? Owen’s been slowly coming around, and I’ve even gotten back into a routine. Noah’s doing really well in school. Lachlan’s getting more confident with his dad duties. The elastic band keeps stretching, and I’m waiting for something to make it snap.”

  “And you think this could be the thing that sets everything off?”

  “I don’t know. I know, without a doubt, Drew is guilty, and I pray every night he’ll pay for what he did. No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t shake the feeling there’s an anvil above us, waiting to drop any second. If he gets off on a technicality or whatever, it will be the end of all of us. We couldn’t survive it.”

  Immy strolls around the counter and tosses her bag in the drawer. “You need to have a little faith that it will all fall back into place. And when that finally happens, you need to accept it. Your life can be great again.”

  “You sound like Nash.”

  “Speaking of… Have you spoken with him?”

  “He’s texted me a few times, but I haven’t seen him since my tire blew on the freeway a month ago. I’m trying to keep my distance.”

  She nods and avoids eye contact. As she picks at the skin on the side of her thumb with her middle fingernail, I know there’s something she’s not telling me. One thing Immy is not is a great liar.

  “What?”

  “I really shouldn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, you should. Or you’re fired and there will be no one here to update the Revamped Facebook page and my store will go out of business and then I’ll be homeless.”

  “Well, that escalated quickly. Do you realize you threaten to fire me almost every shift? Just admit you love me and I’m not going anywhere.” She groans then gnaws on her bottom lip. “I’ll tell you, but don’t freak out, okay? I was with Jaxson last night, and he mentioned that Nash hasn’t really been himself for the past few weeks. I changed the subject and never once said your name, I swear, but I thought to myself that maybe you had something to do with his mood change.”

  “I highly doubt I’ve had so much impact on him it altered his mood at work. Wait, wait, wait... Jaxson? As in Nash’s partner, Officer Jaxson Terrell? As in the hot officer you couldn’t take your eyes off of?”

  She all but glows, and a bubble of excitement explodes out of her. “Yes, that Jaxson, the very one! I know it must sound insane t
o someone as umm…planned as you are, but I just couldn’t get him off my mind after that night. Then I ran into him a few days later, and we got to talking. It just so happens he couldn’t stop thinking about me either. Last night was our second date. We actually have a lot in common.”

  “What the heck? How come I’m just hearing about this now?”

  Guilt washes over her and immediately makes me feel bad. “It’s just that you’ve been dealing with so much and I don’t know… I’ve never had the best of luck in the dating department, so I didn’t want to jinx it, I guess. He’s really great, though.”

  “I’m thrilled for you. Honestly, don’t keep your happiness from me because you think it’ll hurt. I know you’re my employee, but I also like to think we’re friends, too. I spill my guts to you daily, you should be able to return that.”

  Immy surprises me by stepping forwarding and hugging me tightly. “If you tell Chloe, I’ll deny every word, but you really are the best boss and friend I’ve ever had. I’m so glad you offered me a job here.”

  We pull apart as the door chime announces a new customer. I smile in greeting, and, as the older gentleman disappears behind a shelf of assorted smaller décor pieces, I lower my voice and continue our conversation. “My lips are sealed with Chloe, I promise. So, tell me everything about Jaxson. Where did you two run into each other?”

  “Umm, outside the police station? I may have done a few laps in front of the building until I saw him come out…and then I might have crossed his path as he was heading to his car.”

  Not the answer I expected but should have known. Tilting my head back, I laugh harder than I have in a while. “You’re unreal! You practically stalked a police officer, you crazy train.”

  “I wouldn’t call it stalking, and sometimes a girl has to take things into her own hands.” She pauses to giggle at herself, and my stomach aches from giggling along with her. “It’s been really great, though. Our conversations are endless and not at all uncomfortable. It feels natural to be with him. Last night, for our second date, he took me to a gun range.”

  “He did what?”

  “It sounds terrible, I know, but it was pretty amazing. We were discussing how I’ve never fired a gun before, and he said everyone should know the proper way to handle a weapon. After dinner, which he cooked at his house by the way and was totally delish, he surprised me with a trip to the range. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to know the basics, and it turned out to be very empowering.”

  As completely odd and very non-romantic as their second date sounds, the lovebirds might be onto something. Handling a gun might restore a little bit of the power I lost that day. Some of this helplessness might go away if I knew how to protect myself. When I learned Sawyer had been shot, it felt so foreign to me. I’d never even seen a real gun before.

  Owen would never go for this. I couldn’t even imagine having this kind of conversation with him right now, or maybe ever. I don’t think he would understand my feelings. Lachlan wouldn’t understand either. They’re too close to what happened.

  The customer that came in a few minutes ago emerges from the aisle, clearing his throat. “Excuse me, could one of you ladies help an old man with this vase up here? My wife would love it!”

  Immy offers her assistance and treads away.

  Before I have the chance to lose my nerve, I take my cell phone into my workroom and call the one person I know would not only understand, but would be able to teach me himself.

  He answers after two rings. “Sloane, hey. I’m glad you called.”

  “Hi, Nash.”

  I told Immy I would be taking a longer lunch than usual, and she didn’t push for more info. More than likely, she thought I needed time to myself today. I really should be surrounding myself with family and friends, sipping tea, and clutching soggy tissues, waiting for a phone call to inform us of how everything went with Drew. The call that holds the potential of sending everything crashing down around me again. I’m not going to be a victim any longer. Not as long as I can help it.

  Today, I’m going to take back my life. I’m in charge.

  Nash didn’t hesitate to drop whatever he was doing and agree to help me this morning. Without many details provided to him, he gave directions to the gun range just outside of town and ended our call.

  An hour later, I pull into the parking lot. Nash Hudson leans on his car, arms crossed causing his thin black shirt to stretch across his muscled arms and chest. After I park, he pushes off the car and walks to my door as I turn off the engine.

  I drop my gaze to my lap.

  Second thoughts hit me with such force it cripples my windpipe. What am I doing here? Why would I want to put the thing that killed my best friend in my hand? Will it give me control and power? What am I going to gain from pulling a trigger the same way Drew did?

  I clench the steering wheel, knuckles white with the pressure. My heart beats inside my eardrums. I’m vaguely aware of Nash opening my door and crouching beside me.

  “Sloane. Look at me.” He tenderly places his finger under my chin and turns it toward him so I’m forced to meet his eyes that are ocean-deep with sympathy. “You can do this. I’ve got you.”

  I nod, unable to speak past the lump burning my throat. He’s close enough that his minty breath tickles my face.

  “Where you busy today? I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t have anyone else to call for something like this.”

  “It’s a court day.”

  “Before you ask, I left before his appearance. I don’t know the outcome.”

  I nod as my gut twists.

  We’re quiet for a few more seconds, the air becoming thick with tension and hunger. Nash leans in farther and, for a panicked second, thoughts of his kiss fill me. His opened mouth is a mere inch away, his stare remains on my lips. Unexpectedly, he blinks away the emotion, dropping his gaze to press the button to undo my seatbelt. In the time it took Nash to fill my personal space, he leaves it, sending a chill through to my bones. He opens my door all the way with a loud creak. Inhaling a long, shaky breath to calm myself, I retrieve my bag with newfound determination to achieve what I came here for.

  After the grand tour of the gun range that appears much smaller than it actually is, Nash leads me into a glass room just outside of the shooting area.

  “Here, you’re gonna need these.” He smirks as he holds up large black earmuffs.

  “Is it really that loud?”

  “We came at a good time, there’s no one else shooting, but yeah, it can get pretty loud. It’s your first time, so the sound might spook you. These just make it less scary in there.”

  I motion toward his hand. “That’s what I’ll be shooting?”

  The gun looks just like I suspected it would, but now that I’m staring at one resting on Nash’s palm, I realize it’s more intimidating than I imagined. It’s actually quite astonishing I’ve never been around one when I think about the friends Sawyer and I used to have. Some of them were pretty heavy into drugs and other illegal crap.

  Other than that lifestyle, I didn’t have a reason to be around weapons. My parents are far too straight to own something such as a gun, and Owen could be intimidating all on his own. Sawyer never even allowed Noah to have toy guns or swords in the house.

  Nash takes my hand and places the gun in it very slowly. “The safety’s on. Just get a feel for it.”

  “It’s heavier than I would have thought.”

  “You’ll want to hold it in your dominant hand with a little more grip than you would use to shake someone’s hand. You want somewhat of a crushing hold on the gun so it reduces movement of your non-trigger fingers. The web between your trigger fingers and thumb should be as high as possible to contain the recoil of the slide moving back and forth.”

  While Nash shows me the proper way to hold the firearm, he manipulates my fingers, curving his hands around mine.

  “Ready?”

  No. “Yes.”

  I trail Nash into the ran
ge. I’m grateful there’s no one else around because I’m nervous as hell and I’m betting it shows. My entire body trembles with Nash standing behind me, hard chest pressed against my back. His hands are on my earmuffs, holding them apart while he gives me a few more precautions and instructions. The muffs are returned to their place on my ears, and his palms rest on my shoulders, offering silent reassurance.

  When he takes a step back, I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly. My focus remains on the target twenty-five feet away as I lift the gun, clutching it just as I was instructed.

  It doesn’t make me feel powerful, though.

  It makes me feel weak. Pathetic even.

  I picture Drew standing in front of Noah and Sawyer, holding this thing, pointing at them. I feel how scared Noah was. How helpless Sawyer must have felt.

  I see Sawyer’s motherly instincts kick in as she jerks Noah behind her, taking a bullet for her baby. Trading her life for his without hesitation. Noah, crying as he stands over his mother’s lifeless body. Drew smiling as he walks out of the building, striking a match in his departure.

  I pull the trigger.

  One shot, then two.

  Three.

  I keep shooting until no bullets remain. I don’t even know how many times I fired, but when I stop, I’m crying. Not single silent tears either. But full-on hysterical sobs, ripping through my entire core.

  I’m vaguely aware of Nash taking the weapon from my hand, removing the muffs from my ears, and setting them next to him. He wraps my body with his large arms while his one palm cradles the base of my neck.

  “It’s okay, Sloane. It’s okay. You’re okay, I promise.” He keeps repeating the sentiment.

  “Nothing about my life is okay.”

  The door opens as two guys walk through, laughing with one another. As soon as their eyes land on me and my hot mess, they smile politely, eyeing Nash.

  Pulling back from his embrace, I turn and leave the range as fast as I can, pushing past the front entrance doors. Once the warm air hits my face, it’s even harder to inhale. Bent over, hands on my knees, I suck in tiny gasps of air.