Head On

by S. R. Jones

  “Shit. Who?” Dave asks.

  “Who do you think, shithead?” Rick pushes past Dave and heads for some stairs in the middle of the room, leading up to an office with glass windows that look out over the warehouse.

  “Is that gun still in the drawer up there?” he asks the giant.

  The big guy grins and laughs. “Of course, but you don’t know how to use it. You’re more likely to shoot your foot than hit Ethan Foston. Watch her.”

  And he goes jogging over to the stairs, taking them two at a time. I’m struggling and screaming now. If they’ve got a gun, they’ll kill Ethan, and I can’t let that happen. I jerk about so hard the chair falls to the ground and I hit my head hard on the floor. Pain bursts behind my eyes but I can’t let it distract me.

  I’m moving my legs like crazy, trying to loosen the rope around them. It isn’t too tight at my ankles, the piece around my arms is so tight it hurts, but the blond guy did my ankles loose.

  The door to the warehouse is only half closed and light is streaming in through the bottom. From my position on the floor, I see two cars pull up and three pairs of legs come pounding out of the vehicles and toward the warehouse.

  Ethan!

  I scream and scream trying to tell them to turn back, but the gag makes my cries useless.

  Luka drops and rolls under the door and runs to the wall on the right, Ethan follows him, and the third person, some man I don’t know, rolls and goes to the left, followed at a dead run by the two big men flanking the blond giant.

  As I’m watching this unfold, a huge bang rocks the space, followed by two more, and blinding white flashes out my vision. My ears are ringing and my eyes kill. What the hell? For a moment, I wait for the pain of an explosion to hit, but when it doesn’t I blink and try to focus. The room is full of smoke and I can’t see anything.

  Struggling again with the rope around my ankles, I kick my shoe off and finally manage to wrench my already damaged ankle free. The pain of pulling it out of the rope makes me bite down against the gag. It burns my flesh, bad, even through my socks. I kick off my second shoe and the remaining bit of rope and try to get my bearings.

  I hear shots ring out, and Ethan’s voice shouts out. “Stay down, Isla.”

  I remain on the floor, every single cell of my body thrumming with the awareness of how exposed I am.

  “Fucking give me the handgun,” Dave says to someone.

  The smoke is clearing and I see Rick turning the dial on a safe I hadn’t noticed before. He draws out a handgun and instead of giving it to Dave, he aims it. I follow the line of the gun and see he’s trying to get a lock on Ethan through the rapidly clearing smoke. Ethan and Luka are moving along the back wall, both holding guns, which are trained at the office window up the stairs.

  I glance up and see why. The giant has smashed the glass out, and has a rifle trained on me. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Put the gun down,” Ethan shouts.

  “No, you put the gun down.”

  “You shoot her and you’re dead. I don’t have a beef with you. We can work something out. Both walk away from this,” Ethan says.

  The giant laughs. “I’m not scared of you. Do you know who I am?”

  “No,” Ethan admits. “But I can guess what you are, and who you work for. And you’re wrong, you should be scared of me.”

  The smoke has cleared even further, and Rick’s aiming the gun with a shaking hand right at Ethan. I see his finger tighten on the trigger, and with a scream I push up to my feet and run at him, the chair on my back. My ankle screams, but I don’t stop. I barrel into him.

  A shot rings out, and I go down to the floor with Rick. The wind is knocked out of me, but the blond man didn’t shoot me, and I can only pray Rick didn’t get the shot off in time to hit Ethan.

  Another shot rings out, and burning pain hits my side. Holy shit, that hurts. At first it feels like a sharp bee sting, but in mere seconds my lower back starts to burn as if on fire from the inside out.

  “No, no, no.” I can hear someone shouting, and there’s more gunfire.

  Someone pulls me up, and the world spins as I try to focus, but I’m feeling sick and panicky.

  “Jesus, Isla. No.”

  I try to tell him I’m okay. It burns, but I’m okay, only I can’t speak around the gag.

  Gentle fingers pry it out of my mouth and I gasp and choke, then start coughing. Tears are streaming down my face and Ethan swipes at them with his thumbs.

  “Keep looking at me, babe. Keep breathing, okay. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.” He says it like a litany and I try, I really do. But I’m tired, and I close my eyes.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Ethan

  I’m holding her in my arms and praying to a God I stopped believing in a long time ago to keep her alive. She’s passed out, but I’ve checked the wound briefly, and it doesn’t look too bad, so I’m hoping she’s passed out from shock and not internal bleeding.

  All my anger at her for reading Selina’s email has gone. The moment I saw her get hit, none of it mattered. It’s one of those life defining moments. We only get a few of them. The death of a parent. The birth of a child. Something that irrevocably changes our lives forever. This is one for me because even if we don’t work out, I know I love her.

  I’ve never been in love before, but somehow, I’ve fallen for this girl. I know the deeper love that can sustain a relationship for years, hopefully decades, takes longer to form. But as far as the rush of falling headlong into it all goes-- that initial spark? She’s it for me, and I’ve been trying to deny it.

  And holy fuck, is she brave! She ran at a guy with a gun to save me. Getting herself shot in the process. But the bratva fucker didn’t do it judging from the wound. I think Rick might have but there were bullets flying all over when she got hit.

  The blond bastard comes out of the office and he’s shaking his head at the scene in front of him. One of his thugs has a weapon aimed at Luka, but the blond shakes his head again and makes a lowering motion with his hand.

  Liam comes and hunkers down next to me. “How is she?”

  “Out.”

  “Ambulance is on its way. Police, too. This is going to get messy.”

  I sigh. Messy indeed. “You two go.” I nod at him and Luka, who is tying up David Dunn, with the help of the other Russian henchman.

  “So, you say you can help me?” The Russian giant turns to look at me. Ever the pragmatists, organised crime don’t have any loyalty except to themselves, and these two fuck-ups have clearly lost any support from the Russians.

  I nod. “You want her father’s business to keep doing for you what it’s always done?”

  He gives one incline of his head.

  “He wants out too, but he won’t sell to these fuckers. You keep Pete in against his will, it won’t work well long term. But I know someone who will be more than happy to take his place. Someone with the legit business front you need. Someone who won’t screw up like Dave and Rick here.”

  I hate doing this. Hate giving these guys an in to rinse their dirty money. But someone will do it, and I want Isla’s dad to be able to walk away from this. For her and him to be out of danger. And I’d already spoken with my contact as soon as I learned what Pete had gotten into. He’s a legit business man, but he already has his finger in a number of unsavoury pies.

  “The guy I’m talking about runs Savant Property.”

  The Russian’s eyebrows pop. “Go on.”

  Bait firmly hooked, I reel him in. “He’ll be more than happy to take over.”

  “You are saying to me that Stuart Martin will work with us?”

  I nod. Because he will. And the beauty of it is, according to Liam, who has friends in high places, Stuart is already under a long-term investigation of his dodgier activities. So, if the stars align correctly both Stuart, and these Russian dipshits, will get taken down eventually. Either way, Pete and Isla are free and clear to live their lives.

 
I take my phone out, careful not to jostle Isla. I bring up my contacts and dial a number, putting it on speaker. I don’t have much time. It rings and on the fourth one, a deep cultured voice answers. “Savant Property, Stuart Martin speaking.”

  “Stuart, Ethan here.”

  “Hello there, my good fellow.”

  Christ, he’s such a dick. “I’m here now with our friends, am I okay to give them all your contact details so you guys can set up a meet?”

  “Of course. Always happy to help foreign relations.”

  He gives a smooth chuckle. I raise my eyebrows at the Russian and he nods.

  He snaps his fingers as I hang up the phone, and his two henchmen come to heel like well trained dogs.

  “Sorry to leave you with this mess to clear up, gents. But I think it’s time we left.”

  Sirens can be heard in the distance. “Yeah, go. But you owe me one.”

  I hold his gaze. Bold as brass. Fucker could put a price on my head the moment he leaves this warehouse if he wanted. But I’m letting him walk away from this shit storm he created, and I want something in return.

  He narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw.

  “I don’t want anything big. Simply a promise that you’ll leave Isla and Pete Rose alone.”

  “I will talk to my superior, but as long as we have someone in place to help with our…transactions then we have no interest in them. And, quite frankly...” he turns a cold, disdainful stare on David Dunn, “I’d rather not have to deal with this level of incompetence again. I did not know what their plans were.”

  “Yeah well, amateurs will always fuck things up.”

  “Indeed.”

  He gestures to his two men and then they’re jogging out of the building as the sirens grow closer.

  I turn to Liam. “Get the fuck out of here. Go on. I’ll deal with this.”

  Liam shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m hoping we can get this smoothed out. I have friends in the local constabulary.” He gives his shit-eating grin. Of course he does.

  I doubt David or Rick are going to be pressing charges. They’re the ones that should be rotting in jail, but that way implicates Pete. And it would break Isla’s heart. It’s best all round if we blame all this on some mysterious gang who took Isla.

  Luka and Liam sweep the garage, picking up all the weapons, which Luka takes out to his car. If they search the cars, he’s fucked. I don’t have time to argue though. Liam is going over what to say with Dave and Rick, who are both agreeing.

  Rick and I will be having private words at some point in the future. Fucker tried to kill me, but worse, he and Dave put in place a series of events that seriously hurt Isla. They won’t get away with it.

  She moans in my arms and I sweep her hair back from her forehead. She’s clammy, but not cold or too hot, which I think is a good sign. There’s blood loss, it’s seeping out over my fingers, but not a concerning amount. My worry is her spine. She’s been through too much already.

  There’s screaming sirens and screeching tires, and then all hell breaks loose. Firemen, ambulance people, and police pour into the garage. Two of the police are suited up in all the gear and holding weapons. We all raise our arms, and one of the tooled-up cops sees Liam and quirks an eyebrow.

  “Long story,” Liam says wearily.

  “I can only imagine.” He lowers his weapon and gestures for his partner to do the same.

  “I need help here. She’s been shot. Bullet wound to the lower back. Still in there. Not too much bleeding. She’s in tachycardia, and she passed out a while back.”

  “You a doctor?” One of the paramedics asks as he kneels to look at Isla while his colleague runs back to the ambulance – probably to fetch a board and the other equipment.

  I shake my head. “Special forces, have some medical training for out in the field.”

  “Oh, okay. Let’s take a look.” He’s gentle as he examines her, and I’m praying they’ll keep her stable until they get her to accident and emergency. I’m also praying she doesn’t need any major surgery on her organs, because she’s already gone through way too much in her young life.

  They get her on a board, and use the whole neck stabilising shit, even though I don’t think they need to.

  I go to get in the back of the ambulance with her, but one of the police puts a hand on my arm. “Sorry, you need to stay here. We’ve a lot to clear up.”

  I grit my teeth in frustration, but he doesn’t let go. “We’ll be as quick as we can. But you can’t go yet.”

  I look to Liam in annoyance, but it seems his influence only goes so far, because he gives me a subtle shake of his head.

  Five fucking hours later, and I’m finally heading to the hospital. They took Isla into surgery immediately, and she’s now in recovery. I’m in Liam’s car, and Luka’s taken mine home. Both men insisted I wasn’t in a fit frame of mind to drive. As if. But they ganged up on me, and here I am. Liam pulls up outside the doors of the hospital’s emergency admissions ward.

  “I hope she’s okay.”

  I turn to him. “Thanks for everything. It’s not adequate enough, but thanks.”

  He laughs. “You can pay me back when you come work for me.”

  I frown at him. “I still don’t get how you need my specific skills, running a security firm here in the UK. Close protection can’t carry here, and they sure as hell aren’t going to allow you to have a sniper onboard.”

  He turns serious. “We don’t only do private protection work. We also do some very specific work for certain government agencies. Dignitaries’ visits, that sort of thing. Since the July terrorist attacks, our government likes to make sure things are as well covered as possible. It’s one of the many jobs my firm handles. We’re private yes, but we’re also contracted to the government.” He gives me a considered look. “That going to be an issue for you?”

  I know what he means. We were screwed over by the government when things went south on our last mission. We were effectively hung out to dry and then to add insult to injury, investigated over what happened.

  I sigh. “Not in this context. I’ll never fight for those fuckers again, but if they want to pay me stupid amounts of money to watch over some Bishop when he visits, then it’s fine by me.”

  “My sentiments exactly. I use them now, not the other way around.”

  He claps my shoulder. “Go get her.”

  “If she wants me.”

  He grins. “How can she resist the great Ethan Foston’s charms.”

  Quite easily, I think to myself. She might still be too insecure about what I used to do to give this a go.

  The antiseptic smell of the hospital hits straight away, and the reception area is packed. There’s not one seat empty.

  I go to a window of thick Perspex with a grill in the bottom, and ask for Isla Rose. The receptionist looks on the computer screen for a long while, tapping at her keyboard with neatly trimmed nails. “She’s back on the ward now. Floor E, general surgery.”

  I head for the bank of elevators but there’s a ton of people waiting, so I turn and blast through the double swinging doors to head for the stairs. I run up the four flights easily enough, and reach the ward quickly.

  This is much more serene than downstairs. Softer lighting, nurses chatting at their station. And a long corridor with about five bays off it.

  “I’ve come to see Isla Rose,” I tell one of the nurses. She looks up and immediately sits up straighter. Her eyes brightening.

  “Are you her father? You got here quickly.”

  Fucking hell. How old do I look? But then I realise I can use this to my advantage. I doubt they’d tell the real me much info, so I smile at her and nod.

  “Private flight. Cuts the travel time down.” I hope she doesn’t know all about flight times from New York to England because there’s no way with travel time to and from both airports that Isla’s dad is going to be here for at least another few hours.

  She dimples at me, and I sm
irk back. She’s wearing a name badge. “Do you mind telling me how she is, Stacy?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Rose.” Her face turns serious and she leans in close. “I have to say you have the bravest daughter. What she went through as a child.”

  “I know. The accident was terrible.”

  She nods. “And then the cancer.”

  I freeze. Just fucking freeze, all the air leaving my lungs. I nearly say what cancer, but stop myself in time. Still, Stacy has clocked my reaction because she blushes.

  “I’m sorry. You probably don’t like to talk about it…it’s, well, she’s very brave.”

  I recover myself and smile at her. “No. It’s not that, sometimes it still gets to me how much she’s been through.”

  She nods, all big glassy eyes. Oh, God, she’s going to cry on me. How bad was it? I’m feeling sick as I speak to her again.

  “Will the cancer and things make an impact on this injury?”

  She frowns. “Actually, in a way it made the surgery a lot simpler. Because of the trajectory of the bullet it would have been a very tricky operation indeed, if she’d still had her reproductive organs.”

  I swear to God, the room spins. I’ve faced down terrorists, alone, in the desert, but I think I’m about to have a panic attack or some shit right here on this quiet ward.

  “Mr. Rose are you okay?”

  I nod and give her a weak smile. “It’s the shock of it all, you know?”

  She smiles and comes out from around the desk. “Let me get you a cup of water and then I can take you to see your daughter.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Isla

  Ethan. I’m so glad to see him I immediately burst into tears when he walks into the room.

  “Shhh.” He sits on the side of the bed and strokes my cheek with the back of one knuckle. It’s an oddly tender gesture for him.

  My foot is out of the covers and raised in a contraption. He blinks at it twice. “What happened to your foot?”

  “It’s my ligament. They say I may need more surgery, but a foot specialist is coming to see me tomorrow or the day after.”