Pretty Daring

by Jenn Hype

  “Sebastian just arrived at Michelle’s. He can hear signs of a struggle inside, but the door is blocked and he can’t break it down. Cops are on their way.”

  My foot pressed down on the gas as far as it would go. Horns blared as I pulled into traffic. Worst fucking part of living in New York was not being able to get anywhere quickly.

  “Need your help getting to her Reed,” I said while swerving around a yellow taxi.

  “You got it.”

  Beside me Clara’s leg bounced anxiously, and in the rearview mirror I saw Josi chewing on her nails and staring out the window.

  “She’s fine guys,” I reassured them. Maybe I was trying to reassure myself, too, because doubt gnawed at me as soon as the words left my mouth.

  Like Moses parting the Red Sea, all the stoplights visible from our location clicked over to green. Cars laid on their horns, pedestrians shouted and raised their fists; all signs that Reed had successfully hacked into the city’s computer grid and taken control of the traffic lights. As we drove, lights continually switched over as we approached and by the time we neared Michelle’s apartment complex, what would likely have been almost an hour drive took only twenty minutes.

  Emergency sirens blared in the distance. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw several vehicles with bright red flashing lights approaching at dangerous speeds. I whipped into the parking lot to let them pass. My stomach sank when they followed instead of driving past.

  “Oh my God,” Josi whispered when two ambulances and a fire truck came to a halt right in front of the building’s main entrance. That’s when I saw Sebastian. His white shirt was covered in dark red and he was waving frantically.

  I jumped out of the car. I didn’t bother turning it off or grabbing the keys or pulling into an actual parking spot. I was too busy sprinting towards the commotion.

  Sebastian had already disappeared inside the building, three medics close on his heels. Three cop cars swerved into the lot, screeching to a halt next to the fire truck. I made it one foot inside the door before I was tackled to the ground.

  “Get the fuck off of me!”

  Resisting was pointless. I already had three cops on me, one of which had their knee digging into my back.

  “Stop fighting us or I’ll be forced to taze you,” one of them threatened. I recognized the voice and immediately went still.

  “Thank fuck,” Calvin, one of my closest connections to the local PD muttered. With my cheek pressed flat to the ground, I saw him dismiss the other officers. Then I felt the cool metal of handcuffs lock around my wrists. “I have to do this, man.”

  I jerked my head in a quick nod so he knew I understood. So long as they let me go once they confirmed I wasn’t a threat, then we’d be good. But if Blake was hurt and they hauled me off to jail, heads were gonna roll.

  Cal hauled me off to the side just as my sisters came running up. “CJ! Are you okay?”

  Calvin tried to hold Josi back, which gave Clara the opportunity to rush past him. He cursed under his breath and let go of Josi as well. They both searched my body like they expected to find a bunch of bullet holes.

  “I was knocked to the ground, not blown up by a bomb, guys. Chill the fuck out.”

  Josi smacked me upside the head.

  “You don’t get to be a sarcastic ass after we just had to watch three cops tackle and handcuff you. This asshole back here actually had his taser out.” Clara hitched her thumb over her shoulder.

  Calvin had the decency to looked apologetic when I glared at him.

  “I didn’t realize it was you at first,” he explained with a shrug.

  A medic appeared in the doorway. He signaled for two stretchers, and several emergency personnel shot into action. I struggled against my restraints, cursing with the metal bit into my flesh. Not because it hurt, but because it served as a reminder that I was helpless to get to Blake. I needed to know she was okay. That one of those stretchers wasn’t for her.

  When I tried to run to the door again, cuffed and all, Calvin jumped in front of me to block my entrance.

  “You better get your fucking taser back out if you plan on trying to stop me again. My girl is up there, and I need to know she’s okay. Anyone who gets in my way will wind up collateral damage, cop or not.”

  With one hand, he shoved my chest hard enough for me to trip backwards a few steps.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he warned. “Let them do their jobs. I let you run up there, you’ll only be in the way. If your girl comes down on a stretcher, you’re no good to her in the back of a patrol car.”

  He was right. I hated him for being right.

  He must have seen the acceptance on my face, because he nodded before unlocking the handcuffs. I nervously rubbed my sore wrists while I paced restlessly.

  “At least tell me what’s going on,” I pleaded. Calvin looked at me with something that looked a hell of a lot like pity. I was too worried to give a damn. He could think whatever he wanted, so long as Blake was okay.

  “I don’t know much. There was report of an intruder and injury, but not much else.”

  I was about to pull out my phone and see if Reed could find out anything more when the medics reappeared. They had both stretchers and each had a person on them. Sebastian, soaked in blood, stood next to one of them with a grim look on his face. When he looked up and saw me, a dozen emotions, all of which I hated, flitted through his eyes.

  He didn’t have to say. I already knew. The person laying on the stretcher he was helping carry was Blake.

  They were already loading her into the back of an ambulance when I rushed over. Without waiting for invitation, I climbed inside. One of the medics started to force me back out, but Calvin spoke up and assured them I was okay to ride along. I would have thanked him if I were able to look away. Or breathe.

  Blake was strapped to the gurney, her eyes closed as they hurriedly hooked her up to the machines. At some point we’d started moving. It faintly registered that I’d left my sisters behind, but they had my car so I wasn’t worried. Not about them, anyway. Blake, on the other hand…

  Worry didn’t even begin to describe what I felt. The heart monitor beeped with her pulse, but it was slow and weak. An oxygen mask covered her face. I smoothed the hair on her forehead back and kissed her head. A tear fell from my cheek to hers. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shed an actual tear; my pride had never allowed it. I’d cry a damn river now though if it meant Blake would be okay.

  Please let her be okay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  BLAKE

  “A woman is like a tea bag - you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

  - Eleanor Roosevelt

  After having a good cry, I glanced at the clock and groaned when I saw it was only eight in the evening. Granted, we’d started our girl fest early in the day, but it still felt like it was well into the middle of the night. My body felt sore, like I’d ran a marathon. Emotional turmoil is so physically draining. More than ever I wanted to see CJ and I got out my phone to text him and ask him to come over. Michelle was down for the night and I couldn’t wait any longer to see him. But my phone had died at some point, so I went into Michelle’s room to find a charger. There was one by her bed, so I plugged it in and left it sitting on her nightstand to charge.

  After the assault that almost cost Michelle her life, her roommate had none-too-subtly asked Michelle to move out. I’d been livid, but Michelle refused to be upset. She insisted that she wouldn’t want to live with someone who didn’t want her there and fighting over it wouldn’t make a difference. It made me wonder how often she took that approach with her ex, or how many other people in her life took advantage of her perpetual need to forgive and forget.

  I hated that she lived alone. When the asshole was in jail it was easier to stomach. Knowing he was out? Let’s just say, Chelle needed to get used to my being around. I was done walking on eggshells. Her life was in danger, and if she didn’t like
it, she could suck an egg.

  “I’m sorry, Blake,” Chelle mumbled when I threw her arm around my neck and hauled her off the couch.

  “For making me carry your fat ass to bed?” I teased with a grunt. Michelle was tiny, but since she wasn’t helping at all, dragging her across her tiny apartment was not an easy task.

  She didn’t even crack a smile. “For causing this mess. And for dragging you into it.”

  The second her head hit the pillow, she was snoring. I wanted to shake her awake and make her explain. Then smack some sense into her.

  She hadn’t dragged me into anything. Actually, I’d had to basically force myself into her life. When I announced I was moving to New York to be closer to her, she’d fought me every step of the way. So dragging me? Yeah, not so much.

  A picture of Michelle and I when we were younger was taped to her vanity mirror. I walked over to it and smiled. It had been taken at summer camp when I was thirteen and Michelle was eleven. Our noses and cheeks were red from too much sun and our smiles were wide with youthful innocence. Michelle had always been my best friend, and while we’d fought from time to time as is normal for sisters close in age, we always made up quickly. Even as we’d gotten older and grew even more different from one another, we’d remained close.

  Until now. We’d stayed in touch and talked regularly when she left for college, but I hadn’t even known she was dating someone until I’d flown out to New York to stay with her at the hospital. Even then, she’d been mostly closed off about what happened. Some days it felt like I hardly knew her at all, and it was slowly killing me.

  I missed my best friend.

  I left Michelle to sleep and made myself useful by washing the wine glasses and spoons from our booze and ice cream fest. The apartment was small and the tiny kitchenette was only about five feet from the living room, so when the front door opened, I almost didn’t hear it with the water running in the sink.

  Whoops. Guess I didn’t lock up after the girls left.

  “Hey guys, that was qui-“

  The glass in my hand slipped, crashing to the floor. I didn’t even flinch. The tiny cuts on the tops of my bare feet were insignificant in comparison to the man standing in Michelle’s foyer. I hadn’t seen him since the preliminary hearing where Michelle had to testify against him, but I’d recognize him anywhere.

  The asshole that almost killed my sister had the balls to come after her the day he was released. Let himself into her apartment like he lived there. And was looking at me like I was the intruder.

  “You need to leave.” The words were laced with so much hate that I barely recognized my own voice.

  When Greg’s mouth slowly hitched up on one side I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming at him. And when his eyes slowly traveled from my face to my feet and back again, I bit down hard enough to fill my mouth with blood to keep from clenching my fists. There was no hiding how angry I was, but I didn’t want him to see just how much rage was boiling inside of me. The sadistic gleam in his eyes made my stomach churn. He knew exactly what I was going through, and he was enjoying every second of it.

  “Where is she?”

  Ass.

  The apartment was small enough that one glance around would answer that question for him.

  “She’s not here,” I lied, shrugging my shoulders and crossing my arms.

  His eyes narrowed. I narrowed mine right back.

  “Don’t fuck with me, princess. Tell me where she is.”

  That smirk of his fell. His composure was slipping. What did he think would happen when he walked in here? That I’d offer him a beverage before handing my sister to him on a silver platter? The guy was seriously insane.

  “The only person that’s going to be fucking with you is your cellmate when your ass gets sent to prison for good. Hope you enjoy being someone’s bottom bitch.”

  He snarled. I smiled. He bared more of his teeth.

  “You better watch your fucking mouth.”

  I was poking the bear, I knew that. The man was unhinged and dangerous, but I rolled my eyes anyway.

  Then his fist hit the wall with so much force I was surprised he didn’t fall right through the drywall. He probably would have if his hand hadn’t been met with resistance, courtesy of a stud. The sickening sound of bones cracking made me cringe. When he pulled back, his knuckles were bleeding and the skin was torn. Not even a hint of pain showed on his face. If anything, each drop of blood that fell from his hand seemed to fuel his rage.

  I inched backwards, wincing when my bare foot stepped onto shards of glass, digging deep into my skin. Ignoring the pain, I took another step. Greg stood unmoving, but any second, he would make his move. I could see it in the sick way he watched me. Like a predator taunting its prey. He wanted me to be afraid. I’d bet money he enjoyed instilling fear more than he did inflicting pain.

  When my back hit the counter, my fingers discretely searched for the handle to the drawer that held all of Michelle’s cooking utensils. My hands were too shaky for my movements to go completely undetected. Fortunately, it didn’t take me long to find the drawer and yank it open. Even more fortunate, the first thing I grabbed was an eight-inch cooking knife. It really would have sucked if I’d grabbed a spatula.

  Yanking off the cardboard sleeve that covered the blade, I held the knife up and tried like hell to steady my hand. It was useless. I was terrified. Years of training in self-defense and hand-to-hand combat wouldn’t be enough to protect myself when face-to-face with a complete psychopath. Even the knife I was clutching in my sweaty palm would be of little help. It was more of a deterrent than an actual weapon. If I swung and missed, he’d likely knock it out of my hand. Slicing flesh wouldn’t be enough. The man had broken bones in his hand, yet still clutched it into a fist like he was waiting to wail on my face.

  Aiming for his torso would be my best bet. Right? It just seemed like it’d be the easiest place to get the knife in deep enough to cause significant damage. Or at least slow him down. But really, what the hell did I know? All the crime shows I spent hours watching had taught me more about getting away with murder than committing it. Would it be hard to get the blade to actually penetrate his skin? It couldn’t be that hard since so many people died from stab wounds. You’d think you would have to hit an internal organ or something though for it to kill a person, and bleeding out could take hours. I think.

  Clearly, I wouldn’t be starting a career in forensic science any time soon. I wouldn’t be doing much of anything if I didn’t get my shit together and focus on staying alive.

  “Your bitch of a sister is going to pay. There is nothing you can do to stop that,” Greg hissed, taking his first step towards me.

  I continued to retreat, holding the knife in front of me. At some point I’d have no choice but to use it. Running wasn’t an option. I wasn’t leaving him alone with Michelle. My phone was in her room, so I couldn’t call someone for help. Eventually he’d come at me, I knew that, but I was okay with stalling. Maybe if I kept him talking, I’d magically think of a plan. Or maybe he’d trip and hit his head and knock himself out. You never know. Crazier things had happened.

  “You won’t get away with this you know,” I said shakily. “If you hurt me or my sister, you’ll go to prison for sure. Your best bet is to leave now. I’ll even give you a head start before I call the police.”

  Greg laughed. It was maniacal. He reminded me of Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

  “Such faith in the police. You’re as naive as your sister. She thought they could protect her, but she didn’t take into account that anyone can be bought for the right price.”

  Every hair on my body bristled. There were plenty of good men on the force. My father had been one of them.

  Thinking of my father renewed my courage. The hours he’d spent teaching me to be strong, to be fearless, to not cower to men like Greg. Greg was insecure and pathetic. He bullied women to make himself feel superior. He relied on intimidation to sustain pow
er over others; a tactic only used by men who were weak.

  The shaking in my hands subsided. The pounding of my heart slowed as I took deep, even breaths. When I’d been defiant, Greg had lost control. He’d punched the wall and broken his hands. Only when I showed fear did he start to regain control of himself. It fed him like a drug. I needed him off-kilter, which meant finding a way to go back to being defiant and difficult like I had been when he’d first shown up uninvited. It would be a huge risk. There was a chance my smarting off to him would wind up getting me killed, but I was out of options. If I could throw him off his game long enough to get in a few punches or slice off a few fingers then Michelle and I might actually be able to get out of there alive.

  “I almost feel sorry for you, you know.”

  His steps faltered, his eyes narrowing a fraction, but his smirk remained firmly in place so I pressed on.

  “You have to resort to raising your fist to a woman just to keep her around. Sad. Why is that, exactly? I’d assume it goes deeper than being a bad conversationalist or rancid morning breath. My best guess? You suck in bed.”

  He was stalking me around the small kitchen island and each small step I took put me closer to the front door. I saw his eyes dart in that direction. He assumed I would run when I had the chance. Like there was any possibility of me leaving Michelle.

  Dumbass.

  “You better watch your mouth, you little bitch, or I’ll give you a taste of what your sister took from me on a daily basis.”

  Oh, he was fighting dirty. And apparently he had the same idea I did. He was trying to rattle me to regain the upper hand. Unfortunately for him, reminding me of what he did to Michelle only strengthened my determination. I had no idea why she’d put up with him for so long or what exactly he’d done to her all that time, because Michelle still refused to talk about it. Right then, it was probably for the best. What my imagination had conjured was (hopefully) worse than the real story, and the images of what he had to have done to turn every inch of her body black and blue fueled my anger. I would easily and without hesitation sacrifice my own life to save my sister’s, and it would be over my dead fucking body that he ever got to so much as look at her again.