by L. A. Witt
Then something clicked. Two points of red-hot pain came to life.
Oh shit. Oh shit!
I heard the crackle a heartbeat too late. Invisible fists pummeled my battered torso, dropping me onto the pavement.
The Taser stopped. I pulled in a breath, but then he slammed his foot into my ribs again. Another crunch. More pain. Fuck! Through the blinding pain, I heard him snarl, “Should’ve stayed away from him, motherfucker,” and then he zapped me again. More pain. More phantom fists.
When the shock stopped, my muscles went slack.
Including my hand.
He stepped on my wrist, grinding it into the pavement, and panic shot through me again as he picked up my gun.
Another zap. Fuck. Fuck!
My ribs were on fire. My head spun, and the edges of my vision sparkled.
As the shock ceased and my vision cleared, I realized he was gone.
I heard a car door open.
No, Troy. No. Stay in the—
Bang!
Chapter Twenty
Troy!
Someone hit the ground. Someone groaned.
Oh God, no…
“Troy?” I pushed myself up on shaking arms, wincing at the white-hot pain in my side. “Troy, answer me.”
Please, please answer me…
It wasn’t the effects of the Taser keeping me from getting up. The pain was excruciating. Nauseating. Blinding. My vision doubled. Tripled. I tried to get up anyway, and the ground listed. When I caught myself on my arm, the pain drove me all the way down.
Somehow, I found enough air to grind out, “Troy?”
No answer.
But not silence, either—sirens had never sounded so fucking good. In seconds, I was surrounded by roaring engines and flashing lights.
“Troy?” I called out. Speaking at all hurt like a motherfucker. Shouting? Agony. But not knowing if Troy was okay was going to kill me. “Troy? Talk to me.”
Cops, medics, and firefighters descended on me.
“Sir, I need you to lie still.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“Don’t move, sir. I need you to—”
“Troy?” Pain surged through me. Just breathing hurt. The edges of my vision were getting darker. Or maybe I just noticed it more with all the bright lights around me now. And even though it hurt like hell, and my voice sounded millions of miles away, I called out again, “Troy?”
There were voices everywhere. Footsteps. Shouts. Diesel engines.
But no sign of Troy.
Distantly, I heard someone say, “Put some pressure on that wound and get him some O2.”
“I don’t have a pulse.”
“Starting chest compressions!”
Oh God…
Someone touched my shoulder, and even that gentle contact sent a white-hot jolt through me. Hands tried to hold me down, and I struggled, and the pain was blinding. My head was spinning. My vision kept trying to cloud, but I forced myself to focus. Every time I moved—hell, every time I breathed—the pain was unbearable. Dizzying. Sickening. Unconsciousness was tempting. Almost unavoidable. But…
“Troy? Where’s Troy?”
“Sir, I just need you to lie still.”
Another silhouette came closer.
Knelt above me.
Flashing lights flickered across piercings.
Someone took my hand. “Iskander?”
“Troy.” I squeezed his hand.
He squeezed it back.
And everything went dark.
Dreams and reality blurred together, and time lost any semblance of relevance. When I finally found myself staring up at a fluorescent light and a bland pastel ceiling, it could have been weeks since the last time I’d been lucid.
The side of my chest hurt like hell. My head pounded, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just from being out of it—the throbbing at my temple was a little too concentrated for that.
The fuck happened, anyway?
I rewound the blurry darkness as far as I could, searching for the last point I could be absolutely certain was real.
“Iskander?”
“Troy.”
And that was all she wrote.
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, but stopped that shit when it sent fresh pain coursing across my rib cage. Busted ribs. Awesome.
I couldn’t quite piece together what had happened, why I was here, but I remembered the sheer terror of a gunshot ringing in my ears and not knowing where the hell Troy was. If he was alive. If he was wounded.
“Iskander?”
“Troy.”
I could still feel the relief that had rushed over me just before I’d passed out.
I opened my eyes.
What if I’d dreamed that part? God knew I’d imagined plenty of things between hitting the pavement and waking up here. What if…
I tensed and regretted it. How many ribs I’d broken, I had no idea, but some of them definitely were. I distantly remembered the fucker kicking me when I’d tried to get up. Again when I’d reached for my gun. The splintering sensation—and sound—were vividly imprinted in my mind, but then I’d hit the pavement, and nothing was clear after that. Nothing was certain.
The door opened.
“Troy?” I murmured.
“Sorry, honey.” A woman stepped into view. “I’m Jessica. I’m your nurse.”
I swept my tongue across my dry lips. “Where’s Troy?”
Her brow furrowed. “Troy?”
“He was…he was at the scene. I heard a gunshot, and—” Did I? Was that real?
“Take it easy, honey.” She put a cool hand on my arm. “There were other people at the scene, but I don’t have information on them yet.”
“Damn it. How long have I been out?”
“You’ve been awake a few times.” She smiled. “The morphine kept you pretty spacey, though.”
“Morphine?”
She nodded. “If it’s worn off enough for us to have this conversation, I probably don’t have to tell you why they gave it to you.”
That was a fact. Holding my breath was only marginally less painful than breathing, so I kept breathing, if slowly.
“They can give me more, right?”
“That’s up to the doctor. And to answer your question, it’s only been a couple of hours.”
“Thanks.” A couple of hours. It felt like forever.
“Now that you’re lucid,” Jessica went on, “the doctor wants to keep you hooked up to the ECG for a little while to monitor your heart. Because of—”
“The Taser. I know. Been there, done that.”
“This ain’t your first rodeo?”
“Unfortunately, no.” I moistened my lips. “How long do I have to be hooked to this thing? Since I’ve been on it for…however long.”
The nurse shrugged and handed me a fresh icepack. “Until the doctor is certain the electrical current didn’t do any damage to your heart.”
“Okay. Could you do me a favor?”
“I can try.”
“Find out about Troy. Troy Dalton. I just… I need to know he’s alive.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks.”
“You stay put. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She left, and I stayed put, the ECG monitor beeping and the cold icepack pressed against my throbbing head. Wasn’t this déjà vu all over again? Fuck my life. At least I’d been drugged out of my skull when they’d attached the leads to my chest. And put me in this hospital gown, for that matter. I wondered if they’d let me wear it home, along with the ECG pads. I did not relish the idea of trying to put on a shirt.
Minutes later, she came back in.
“Did you find out about Troy?” I instantly regretted my own eagerness—I’d tr
ied to sit up, and…yeah. Big mistake.
“Easy, sweetheart.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “The less you move around right now, the better.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” I slowly released a breath. “What about Troy?”
“I haven’t heard anything, but the police want to talk to you about what happened. Are you ready to speak to them?”
“Sure. Why not?” Maybe they’d know about Troy. I’d answer any question they asked as long as they answered that one for me.
“I’ll send them in,” Jessica said and leaned out of the room. “He’ll see you now.”
Two uniformed officers stepped in. Jessica left, and the first officer extended his hand. “I’m Sergeant Sanchez, Virginia Beach PD. This is my partner, Sergeant Jackson.”
I shook their hands, and they both pulled up chairs beside the bed.
“We just need to ask you—”
“Before you do,” I said, “just tell me if Troy’s all right. Please.”
The officer tapped on his notebook. “Mr. Dalton is fine. He’s answering some questions and being treated for some minor injuries from the collision, but he’s all right.”
I exhaled hard and didn’t even give a damn about the pain. It wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. At least I had confirmation that Troy was okay, though.
“And the…the other guy?” I moistened my lips. “Ben?”
“Well, that’s why I want to ask you some questions.” He crossed one leg over the other and rested the notepad on his knee. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
I closed my eyes and forced my mind to go back across the hazy void to the memories that were—
“Iskander?”
“Troy.”
—real. Piece by piece, it all came back into focus, and I rehashed it as best I could.
When I was finished, he asked, “So you heard the gunshot but didn’t see anything?”
“No. The Taser put me down.”
“Can you tell me where Mr. Dalton acquired a handgun?”
I furrowed my brow, staring up at the ceiling. I vaguely remembered Ben getting my weapon away from me. There was no way Troy could have disarmed him, could he? There hadn’t been nearly enough time for that. A few seconds, no more. How the—
A piece fell into place.
“Under the seat. Of my car.” I gingerly rubbed a hand over my face, flinching when I brushed the tender spot on my cheekbone. “There’s a lockbox under there. I…I left the keys in the ignition after the collision. He must’ve gotten my pistol out of the lockbox.”
“And how did he know it was there?”
“He’s seen me put it there a few times.” When I’ve taken him shooting. God, Troy, we’re both lucky as hell you’re a crack shot…
“I see.”
I swept my tongue across my parched lips. “What about Ben? How is he?”
Sanchez kept his gaze fixed on his notepad. Then he stood abruptly. “I think that’s all I need for now. Thank you, Mr. Ayhan.”
“Wait.” When he turned around, I said, “I want to see Troy. Please.”
“I’ll see if the other officers are finished talking to him, and I’ll send him in.”
“Thank you.”
He left, and I was alone again. The doctor came and went. The officer returned with a few more questions and a half-assed reassurance that he’d send Troy in my direction. The nurse wandered in to check my ECG and not give me any morphine. More often than not, I was alone with my thoughts, and those thoughts insisted that as long as I hadn’t seen Troy with my own eyes, then there was a possibility he wasn’t okay. Until I could touch him, then I wasn’t okay either.
And no one would tell me where Troy was.
Just let me touch him so I know he’s alive. Please.
At the sound of more footsteps, I looked up to see who was coming in to fuck with me again, but it wasn’t the medic or another cop this time.
I tried to sit up, which hurt like a motherfucker and sent me right back against the hard mattress. “Troy. Are you…”
“I’m fine.”
He slipped his hand into mine, and I damn near cried. I probably would have if not for the excruciating pain.
“Thank God,” I whispered, gripping his hand tight. “I thought you were…” No, he wasn’t. No sense even thinking about that now. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. What about you?”
“I’ve…had better days.” I blinked my watering eyes into focus. “I thought for a minute there I’d lost you.”
He laughed, and that was when I realized his eyeliner was smudged. “Tell me about it. I thought I’d just watched you die.”
“No.” I squeezed his hand just like I had before I’d passed out. “I thought I’d just heard you die.”
“No. Not…” He flinched, avoiding my eyes. “Not me.”
“Thank God.”
He looked me up and down. “How bad are you hurt?”
“Nothing a few weeks of taking it easy won’t fix. They still want to check me out. Because of…” I shifted a little, sending fresh pain through my side. “Anyway, just in case. But I’ll be okay. What about you?”
He hugged himself. “I think I’m okay.”
“Come here.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, wincing but still holding on to him, and kissed the side of his head. “Goddamn. I taught you to shoot to save your own life. Didn’t have a clue you’d end up saving mine too.”
He sniffed sharply. “I am so sorry, Iskander. This wouldn’t have happened if—”
“Don’t. He’s a fucking lunatic. This is on him, not you.”
“But you wouldn’t be hurt like this if not for me.”
“And I wouldn’t have you.” I tipped his chin up and lightly kissed his lips. “I’ll take the busted head and ribs.”
He sighed and lifted himself up, meeting my eyes, and his were definitely wet now. “I’m going to have to work my ass off to live up to that tradeoff.”
I laughed, but it quickly turned to a groan.
“What? Are you okay? What’s—”
“Ribs.” I grimaced and tried to get comfortable, even though I knew it was pointless. “It’s gonna be like this for a few months, I think.”
“Shit.”
“I’ll be all right.” Once my vision had cleared, I looked up at him. “The cop told me you shot Ben.”
Troy winced, and I thought for a moment he might be sick.
I clasped his hand in mine. “What happened? Did he…”
Troy took a deep breath. “He didn’t make it. He, uh…” Running trembling fingers through his hair, he whispered, “He died in surgery.”
“My God.” I gripped his hand a little tighter. “Are you doing okay?”
“It…hasn’t quite sunk in yet. I mean, I killed someone.” He shuddered hard. “I fucking—”
“Shh.” I squeezed his hand again. “You did what you had to do. He had my gun, and God knows what he might’ve done to you.”
“Or you,” he whispered.
Right then, the door opened.
Troy sat up. The beeping on the ECG monitor sped up.
“Oh, thank God.” Dalton shut the door behind him and threw his arms around Troy. “The cops, they…they wouldn’t tell me everything that happened. Are you…” He let Troy go and stood up, looking both of us up and down. “Are you both all right?”
“We’re fine,” I said. “Banged up and rattled, but we’ll both be okay.”
“Thank God.” Dalton’s gaze darted back and forth between us. “What exactly happened?”
I looked at Troy, eyebrows up. How much do you want to tell him?
“Dad.” Troy gulped. “Listen, I…” He cringed, lowering his gaze. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you about a few thin
gs.”
Dalton eyed me. “If you two have been seeing each other again, we’ll deal with that later. What the hell happened tonight?”
“What happened tonight was my psycho fucking ex-boyfriend.” Troy met his father’s eyes. “Lieutenant Harris.”
“Harris?” Dalton’s eyes were huge. “You had a relationship with…with him?”
“You could call it that, I guess.” Troy shuddered. “More like a year and a half of hell.”
“But the… What about the man you mentioned? The anonymous—”
“He didn’t exist,” Troy said. “I needed you to know there was someone stalking me, but I couldn’t tell you who, so I…I made him up.”
Dalton blinked a few times. Then his gaze shifted toward me. “Did you know about this?”
I chewed my lip, but then nodded slowly.
His eyes narrowed. “You kept this from me when this son of a bitch was threatening my—”
“I asked him to keep it quiet,” Troy said. “I was scared.”
“Of what? Troy, if you’re dating someone on my staff, I won’t be pleased, but I don’t want you getting hurt or killed either!”
“It’s not that.” Troy swallowed hard. He felt around on the edge of the bed, and when he found my hand, squeezed it tight. I squeezed back, running my thumb along the side of his. “I kept it quiet that Ben and I were dating because I knew you’d be upset. I kept it quiet that he was stalking me because he was threatening you.”
“Me?”
Troy nodded. “He said if I got anyone involved—you, cops, the Navy—he’d go public with pictures of you and Senator Norton’s wife.”
Dalton blanched. “He…what?”
“He knew about that. And I’ve seen the pictures.”
The admiral cringed. “Fuck.”
“And when Iskander was Tased, I knew it was Ben, because…”
“Why?” Dalton lost a little color. “Troy…”
Troy met his father’s eyes. “Because he did it to me. To warn me not to leave him.”
“Oh shit.”
Troy wiped his eyes with a shaking hand, and his other held mine even tighter. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I wanted to tell you what was going on, but…the threats…”
Dalton’s lips parted. “You…kept all that a secret to protect me?”
Troy nodded. “He was threatening your career.”