by Hannah Ford
Strict
Part Nine
Hannah Ford
Contents
Strict
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Copyright © 2020 by Hannah Ford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Strict
(Part Nine)
Chapter 1
GAGE
I do eighty across the Brooklyn Bridge, weaving in and out of traffic. Willow’s phone is on the seat beside me, the tracing app blinking with the green light that lets me know Chloe hasn’t moved.
How could I have been so fucking stupid? How could I have let Chloe out of my sight, let her go to that interview with no protection? And why the hell didn’t I go looking for her sooner? All the time I’ve lost while she’s been out there, with God knows what happening to her, and for what?
So I could sit in a conference room, hoping to take over River’s company just so I could sell it out from under him? It seems so pointless now, so stupid and petty.
I slam my hand against the steering wheel in frustration and sideswipe a Honda as I weave through traffic. I don’t stop, though, even when the driver flips me off and motions for me to pull over so we can assess the damage.
Willow’s GPS leads me down a side street in Brooklyn. There’s already a police presence setting up around a coffee shop, police tape and a crowd of people gathered outside who’ve been pushed behind barriers.
I called the police while I was still in Manhattan, so I expected them to get here before I did. What I didn’t expect was to see them setting up police tape and shooing away patrons of the coffee shop, half of whom look annoyed, and half of whom seem excited, pulling out their cell phones and recording as they’re ushered down the block.
I don’t have time for that kind of bullshit.
I have to get to her.
So when a cop yells at me to stop as I break through the police tape, I ignore him.
“Sir! Sir, you can’t go through there!”
“Stop me,” I growl as I push past him.
They can stay out here and set up their perimeter and do things by their rules and procedures. I won’t sit here and do nothing while the woman I love is in danger, while some monster does God knows what to her.
What are they going to do, shoot me?
Let them.
Without Chloe, nothing matters anyway.
And that’s when I hear her scream.
Chapter 2
CHLOE
There’s a buzzing sound in my ears, and at first, I think I’m waking from a dream. But then I realize it’s not a dream, that the buzzing is the sound of the broken light overhead, and that I wasn’t sleeping. that I’d been knocked out.
It must have been only for a minute though, because the scene in front of me is exactly as it was before – Grace is still slumped against the wall, and Brandon is standing in front of me, brandishing a gun as he paces back and forth, muttering to himself.
I’m on a mattress now I realize, and my head is throbbing so hard it’s making it hard to focus.
I force my eyes to focus on Brandon, who’s standing in the corner.
“Jesus,” Grace says from the corner. “You didn’t have to hit her.” She tries to stand, but whatever drugs she’s on are making her legs weak.
I try to stand up, but Brandon backhands me. “You fucking bitch,” he says. “You think you’re so amazing, you think you’re so much better than everyone.”
“No,” I say weakly. Stars swim in my vision and blackness bleeds in from the sides, as if I’m looking through a tunnel. “I don’t.”
“Well, you’re not too good for me, you fucking bitch,” he says, and then he’s on top of me, pressing into me, and all I have the energy to do is push him weakly away.
“I’m going to knock you out,” he says into my ear. “And then I’m going to do things to you, and then I’m going to keep doing them until you wake up to me inside of you. Do you understand that, bitch?”
His hand tightens around my neck, the pressure on my windpipe unbearable. I claw at his hands, but it does nothing.
This is it, I think, this is how I die.
For some reason Gage’s face enters my mind. And then his face appears at the door, bursting in, but I know it’s just a dream, I know I’m dying, and I can’t breathe and the walls are pushing in and then there’s nothing.
Chapter 3
GAGE
The GPS app leads me to a door located in an ally.
The door is made of flimsy wood, and I ignore the cops behind me, the ones chasing me down the ally and telling me to stop. Instead, I shove my shoulder against the door as hard as I can.
It gives easily, splintering as it falls off its hinges.
It takes me a second for my eyes to adjust to the dimness inside.
But the horrifying scene soon comes into focus.
Grace, slumped in the corner.
And Chloe, on a mattress, Brandon McArthur on top of her.
He’s grabbing at her pants, trying to force them down.
Chloe’s eyes are closed, her mouth slack, her limbs soft and limp.
Rage roars through me as I rush over to him, wrench him off of her.
I don’t notice the gun in his hand until it’s too late, but I have the element of surprise and the power of my rage, and I take his wrist and twist it hard, until I hear the crush of his bones and the gun falls from his mangled hand and goes clattering across the floor.
“What the fuck!” Brandon screams, falling to his knees as he grabs his shattered wrist. “What the fuck did you do?” I reach down and grab the gun, then rush to Chloe.
I’m dimly aware of the police rushing into the room, tending to Grace on the other side of the room, surrounding Brandon.
But all I can see is Chloe.
She lays on the mattress, pale and lifeless.
“Chloe,” I breathe. “Chloe, honey, can you hear me?”
But there’s no response. I press my fingers to her neck, relieved when I feel a pulse. It’s thready and weak, but it’s there.
“Chloe, stay with me,” I beg, as my eyes fill with tears. “Please, baby, stay with me.”
And then the paramedics are surrounding her, loading her onto a stretcher, tending to her.
And I’m left with nothing to do but pray to a God I’m not even sure I believe in.
Chapter 4
CHLOE
Time ceases to exist.
Everything is hazy, and I feel like I’m in a dream.
A dream where all that exists is a muted beeping nose and pain that occasionally breaks through the clouds, only to be quickly extinguished again.
And always, a presence that’s with me.
Not God, but something else, something comforting and warm.
A hand in mine, a soft brush of fingers against my forehead.
The murmur of his voice as tells me I’m going to be okay, that he loves me, that he needs me to stay with him.
It’s this that anchors me to the world, these sounds and feelings that keep me from slipping away and giving into the blackness that beckons me.
These things slowly become more and more real as the words he’s saying come sharper into focus and the haziness fades.
And then finally, he’s squeezing my hand and my eyes are opening
.
And he’s there.
It’s him.
Gage.
Sitting next to me in a hospital room. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, his hair mussed, a growth of beard that’s gone well beyond the five o’clock shadow I’ve seen him with before.
“Chloe,” he says gently, sitting up. “Chloe.”
“How…” I try to speak, but my throat feels as if it’s been rubbed raw with a paring knife.
“Shhh,” he says, and he’s pushing my hair back from my face as he pushes the button for the nurse. “Don’t try to talk. Are you in pain? Just nod if you are.”
I take stock of my situation, and realize I’m not in much pain at all. My head feels a little bit sore, and my throat hurts. I raise my hand to my throat.
“Your throat is sore?” Gage asks.
I nod.
“That’s normal. You were intubated. The doctors had to put you in a coma for a day until they could make sure the swelling in your brain went down. Do you remember what happened?”
Panic swells inside of me as it all comes rushing back. Brandon. That room. Grace, slumped against the wall, her eyes blank and dead. Brandon hitting me with the butt of the gun, pressing me down into the mattress.
The panic engulfs me, taking over my body, and I struggle to sit up. I need to get out of here, out of this room, before he comes back.
“Shh, shhh,” Gage says, taking my arms and pushing me back down onto the bed. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe. Brandon’s back in jail, the police have him.”
Still, my eyes dart around the room, and I’m almost positive I’m going to see him lurking in the shadows.
I struggle against Gage’s grip.
“Chloe,” he says. “Chloe, look at me. Look at my eyes. Breathe.”
I do as he says, trying to time my breathing to his as he takes deep breathes in and out.
“Good,” he says. “Good. In and out, there you go. Look at me.”
I force myself to meet his eyes, and the panic inside of me, the hot band that’s tightening over my chest starts to release just a tiny bit. Those golden eyes, the ones that enchanted me on that very first night, now serve to calm me down.
My hand tightens around his.
“Chloe,” he says. “God, Chloe.” He raises my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, his lips warm against my skin.
“What…” I try to say, but my throat has been rubbed raw.
Gage reaches for the cup of water sitting next to me on the table and puts the straw in my mouth.
I take a small sip. The water is cool and soothes my throat. It might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
“Thank you,” I croak. Now that the room is coming more into focus, and the fog in my brain is receding even more, I’m starting to notice my surroundings.
An IV is in my arm, the needle disappearing under my skin.
“It’s just fluids,” Gage says as my gaze slides up to the bag of clear liquid that’s attached to me. “To keep you hydrated. But if you need pain meds…”
“Am I okay?”
“Brandon was choking you,” Gage says. The muscle in his jaw ticks, and I feel his hand tighten on mine, as if the thought of it is bringing up emotions he hasn’t quite yet processed. “I got there, but not in time to keep you from going unconscious. Brandon slammed your head against the concrete floor after you passed out, so the doctors decided to keep you under for a little bit, make sure your brain had a chance to rest.”
“Grace,” I say. “Is she…”
“She’s okay,” he says, but the tone in his voice leads me to believe that he couldn’t care less what happened to Grace and that I shouldn’t either. But he doesn’t push it.
I try to push myself up on the bed, but suddenly, I’m filled with exhaustion.
“It’s okay,” Gage says, and he’s smoothing my hair back from my face, and a second later, I’m asleep again.
Chapter 5
GAGE
“You should go home and get some sleep,” the nurse says when he arrives. He checks Chloe’s IV. He’s a middle-aged man, but his face has the smooth look of someone who’s dabbled in Botox. “She’ll most likely be in and out for a few more hours.”
“No.” I give him a withering look. If he tries to kick me out, he’ll be in for a rude awakening. Chloe has been in a private suite since she got here, and I’ve made it clear that a huge donation to the hospital will be forthcoming as long as the rules don’t apply to us.
And that includes visiting hours.
The nurse must have been briefed on these facts, because after hanging a new bag of fluids for Chloe, he leaves without another word.
Someone who apparently hasn’t gotten the message, however, is Grace, who appears at Chloe’s door a few moments later. She stands in the doorway in a long gray hoodie and a pair of jeans, her long hair tangled and greasy around her shoulders.
I’m out of my chair in less than a second, crossing the room in long strides.
Grace steps back into the hallway, faltering when she sees that I’m here.
“Oh.” She swallows and wrings her hands in front of her.
“Oh?” I repeat incredulously, giving her a withering look.
She drops back. “You’re Gage. I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Grace.”
I say nothing.
Her eyes flicker past me toward Chloe, who’s still sleeping. “Is she… I mean, is she okay?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She thrusts her chin in the air, trying to gather her bravado. “It is my business. She’s my best friend.”
“You’re the reason she’s here,” I growl, and my hands tighten in anger by my side. “You’re part of the reason she’s in the hospital in the first place. You should be in jail.”
My words might have actually gotten through to her, because she has the wherewithal to lower her head. “Yeah, well, I still might be. Going to jail, I mean.” When she looks up, her eyes are shiny with tears. “They’re still deciding whether or not to charge me with anything.”
I stay quiet again, not trusting myself to speak. I already know all of this, and I don’t give a fuck about her tears or whatever sob story she’s attempting to peddle.
Brandon has, of course, been taken into custody, where he’ll face charges for his escape from jail along with assault for what he did to Chloe. Grace, on the other hand, is apparently a more complicated situation. The police have questioned and released her, and we’re still waiting to see if she’ll face charges.
Grace has been told not to leave the city. But for right now, the police are still trying to figure out if she was a victim or an aggressor in all of this.
I know what I think.
“Please,” she says. “Please, they won’t tell me anything because I’m not family.”
“No,” I say, “you’re not.” I’m not either, but there are ways around that.
My eyes flick behind her to the security guard at the end of the hallway, and I gesture at him to come and take care of the problem.
“You can leave now,” I say. “Of course, if you chose not to do that, security will be more than happy to escort you out.”
She turns to look behind her, and for a moment I see a flash in her eyes, like she’s thinking about pushing the issue, or even worse, trying to push her way past me so she can talk to Chloe in the time that the security guard takes to reach us.
I step in front of the door and close it behind me.
“Don’t. I’m not kidding, Grace. Don’t.”
Grace opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off.
“Think about how it’s going to look to the police if you end up pushing your way into the hospital room of your victim. Think about how it will look if security has to escort you from the premises. If the police haven’t charged you yet, they certainly will.”
I reach into my pocket for my cell phone, as if I’m going to call the police right now. And I will, if she m
akes a bad decision.
But before she can decide what to do, there’s a commotion from the other end of the hall, and a couple comes pushing through the double doors at the end of the unit.
The woman looks frantic, her eyes wild as she glances around before she finally spots the nurses station. The man follows, his gait more measured, holding his hat in his hand, as if he’s the kind of old school gentleman who takes his hat off when entering a building.
Chloe’s parents.
I called them as soon as she got hurt, and they’re here now.
The nurse’s station is empty, and I watch as Chloe’s mother pounds her hand on the desk. “Hello? Hello? Is anyone here?”
“Chloe’s parents,” Grace breathes out, and then starts toward them, as if she’s found allies who are going to help.
I step in front of her, blocking her path.
“You really want to do that?” I say. “You want to go up to them, talk to them? You think they’ll help you? After what you did?”
She bites her lip, considering.
“Grace,” I say, my voice low. “Leave. Now.”
I tip my chin toward the other door at the other side of the hallway, the one that leads to the staircase.
After a moment, she hangs her head and scurries away.
But before she does, she reaches into her pocket and pulls something out. A necklace -- a chain with the initial C hanging from its links. She presses it into my hand. “Give this to Chloe.”
And then she’s gone.
Chapter 6
CHLOE
“My baby,” my mom breathes, as the familiar lilac scent of her soap washes over me. Her hand is cool and soft against my forehead.
“Mom?” The words come out easier than before, my throat already less scratchy as I float awake, fighting against the crippling exhaustion that seems to permeate my entire being.