by Kira Graham
I want to say that I understand Mindy’s hysterics and fears, and that I can dig deep enough to give a damn about them in this time of utter crisis, but I just can’t. I don’t have the time, the patience, or the luxury of sitting down with her right now and calming her down enough to see reality. In light of that fact, what I can tell you is that Sin and I grab her, screaming and fighting like a madwoman, and physically shove, heave, and kick her ass through the opening we’ve made. It’s tight, and it must hurt like hell, but when she pops through and falls to the floor with a scream of pain, I know that it’s at least possible. Hell, if her ass will fit, then Sin and I should go through like butter.
“You next!” we both yell at the same time, our expressions turning to stone at the same time, too.
“Rosetta—”
“We don’t have time to argue right now, Sinai. You’re next. Get your ass through there, and catch me when I come out,” I hiss, using my slightly superior height to grab her and shove her to her knees.
I can tell that she wants to fight and wrestle me out first—that’s just what you do when you love someone—but I can also tell that she realizes that time isn’t on our side. She goes willingly and even helps me wiggle her through, and, in seconds, I hear her hit the floor with a curse.
“Now you!”
Now me, I tell myself, falling to my belly and reaching for the edges of the floor to pull myself out. It’s just as I get my head through and start to wiggle under the cold lip of the elevator shaft’s wall that I feel the power being restored and flickering back on. My head fills with visions of the elevator jumping back to life and plummeting downward while my head is halfway out of the opening. I see the gray picture so clearly in that split second that I feel my bladder tense, and every muscle in my body freezes in terror.
Basically, I freeze all over, my terror so overwhelming that instead of acting, everything in my body goes numb and refuses to move. I’ve heard of people having near-death experiences, and I’ve watched enough TV to understand that, in moments like these, things go slowly, even if it feels like they’re rushing by as well. For me, I can honestly say that during those mere seconds when I feel two sets of hands take mine and tug me towards them, I don’t understand how time works.
All I can think about is the fact that I am going to die. That the elevator is going to chop me in half, and that this is the end.
Thank God that that’s not the way it actually ends, though, because just as the elevator starts to move, Sin and Mindy both yank, their yells of determination joining my screams, so that when we fall to the floor in a pile of arms and legs, our screams turn into cries of pure and utter relief.
I’m a brave woman, I really am, and I can say without a doubt that Sin is, too. Mindy—eh, she’s not what I’d call Wonder Woman, but she definitely rises in my estimation when instead of breaking into sobs again, she rolls over, helps us up, and gives us a determined, set look that, while bursting with terror, holds a strength that I didn’t know she had.
“Where are we? Where do we go from here?” she barks, wringing her hands and glancing around as Sin and I take a look around as well.
The building that we live in is Zeus’s, so each floor holds only two, maybe three apartments that are as large as most other people’s houses. The floors don’t have numbers, and since I don’t know where we stopped, I don’t know if this is the first floor, or if we still need to travel farther down.
What I do know is that this floor, if it’s the first, is inhabited by two sisters who just left for a vacation in Spain.
“Knock on the doors! Hurry. We need to get someone up, and if we can’t, then we need to get into the stairs.”
At least there, we’ll be locked behind the doors. Unless Hilan manages to get in there. Then we’ll be a bunch of trapped rats.
Sin starts pounding on one door, with Mindy doing the same on another, and I try to see which floor we’re on and remember this floor’s code for the keypad. When no one answers, I assume that we’re on the first floor after all, and only need to run one floor down in order to get to the lobby. We need to get to that lobby—
Mindy, who’s come over to stand beside me after realizing that there’s no one home, suddenly lets out a scream that is so bloodcurdling that my head shoots up, and my eyes meet Hilan’s through the small glass window that is cut into the door. Seeing him there is a shock to the system that has me stepping back in a scramble even as Mindy jumps behind me, cowering and hiding like a child would. We almost fall, our legs tangling, until Sin grabs my elbow, then grabs Mindy and starts backing away.
“I see you, bitch, and I see your cousins there behind you. I’m coming for you all,” he sneers, his smile turning cold as I see the door handle jiggle.
That makes my eyes bug out, and I hear Sin curse and feel her start to tug harder, the act of turning to run made more difficult because we practically have to grab Mindy under the armpits and drag her curled frame behind us. None of the doors are unlocked—not that I expected them to be—but I check them frantically, even going so far as to pound on one again while we look around and then start going back toward the elevator as if by unspoken agreement.
Sin pushes the button, hitting the thing at least seven times with her thumb, while I check behind us and start to whisper a prayer, asking God to please, please, please let the elevator come back in time.
“Come on! Come on, you piece of shit. Come on,” Sin mutters, her body bouncing and twitching as we hold Mindy up and fervently beg the doors to open.
I hear an ominous click behind us and glance back again, my breath a sobbing pant of fright as I see the door slowly glide open before Hilan steps out. I am no coward, I’m really not, but even I scream along with Sin when the man steps out into the hallway and turns to face us, that big, ugly knife clutched in his right hand and gleaming in the low light coming from the restored power.
“Oh my God, oh my God. Open, fucker!” Sin yells at the elevator, pounding on the doors as we turn and back up against the steel, huddling together with our backs plastered to the metal.
Poor Mindy is nearly insensate with fear, her head tucked into her chest and pressed in towards the frame, as if hiding her face will make this all go away.
“Stay away. You’re going to be in deep shit if you come anywhere near us!” I scream, the effectiveness of my threat lost when a sob bursts free on the last word, my terror getting the better of me.
“Oh, stop. You should see yourselves, cowering back against the doors and threatening me when we all know that I could, and will, kill you all without breaking a sweat. Give it up, Rosetta. This is it,” Hilan tells me softly, every step a slow progression that brings him closer.
I want to be the girl who lunges first and takes the offensive, but to be truthful, Sin and I both huddle together, our sides pressing into each other while tremors rock us, and we breathe in deep, fear-filled pants. There’s nowhere to go from here, nothing to do but wait for him to get close and then try to survive. We both know it, and I feel Sin’s fingers thread through mine, giving them a comforting squeeze as if to tell me that she’s ready.
Oh, God. But I’m not. I should have worked out like Zeus wanted me to. I should have been nicer to him about our “dates” and not called his interests lame. I should have told him that I’m sorry, and that I love him, when we spoke on the phone. Mostly, I should have kept at least one gun under my pillow like I used to do, because if I had, none of this would be happening. So technically, this is kinda Zeus’s fault if you really think about it.
Don’t cry, Rosetta. We don’t cry. We fight, I remind myself, my insides shaking so hard that I feel it in my toes. Hilan keeps stalking closer, and Mindy is curled into a ball and on her knees now, the sound of her frantic prayers reaching out to fill my ears and join the thumping roar of my heart. I can do—
Nothing. Because the stairway door bursts open just as Hilan comes to within five feet of us, and I see something dark launch from the opening, the s
hape flying through the air in a fast-moving arc of mass that slams into Hilan’s back and takes him to the ground so fast that I hear the impact of flesh and bone before he roars.
Then it’s a tangle of arms, legs, rolling movement, and a fast series of bone-snapping impacts that I can hardly follow. There’s a struggle, and somewhere within that quick space of time, I unscramble enough to realize that it’s Chilli on top of Hilan, his fists delivering blow after blow of such violence and force that the man receiving them should not be conscious anymore, never mind alive and fighting back.
Sin screams when Hilan manages to roll, taking Chilli down beneath him, and the knife that he seems to have kept hold of flashes up as he draws his arm back.
It all happens in a blur, really. One minute, I’m watching in horror as the blade starts to move down, and the next, Sin and I are moving, with me jumping and landing on Hilan’s back, while Sin lunges forward and grabs his arm, giving Chilli the time he needs to grab hold of that arm and stop the knife.
I get thrown off in the ensuing struggle and hit a wall, my head bouncing into the plaster hard enough that I see stars. Shaking away my blurred vision, I see Sin being punched and thrown back. Hilan, now free of us, closes both hands around the hilt of the knife and leans down, roaring out a curse when Chilli pushes back, somehow manages to twist to the side, and angles the knife upward.
Hilan, still bearing down, tries to move, too, but it’s too late. He falls right into the blade, the sickening sound of its steel slicing into him the only thing I hear above his yells. Mere seconds pass, but now it seems like a lifetime as I watch him freeze, gape at the knife lodged in his chest, and then fall over onto his side, a burbling sound leaving him as he turns his head and reaches out to me, and a last shuddering breath leaving him.
Oh, God.
Oh, my God.
Chapter Eighteen
Zeus
My feet hit the ground as soon as the car comes to a halt, panic and fear still riding me hard as I take the stairs two at a time and slam into the front door, nearly taking the thing off its hinges in the process. My parents’ house is lit up and crowded with every Sweet, Hart, and security person who survived Hilan’s vicious attack.
Searching through them, I ignore the greetings and other words that people yell at me, my feet carrying me deeper into the living room until I see Rosetta sitting on the long couch, her hand firmly clutched in Sin’s, their bond nearly unbreakable.
When Adonis called me as I was boarding the jet, having already decided that I didn’t want to spend another night away from Rosetta, I almost lost my shit. Sitting through the flight felt like an eternity, and replaying what my brother had told me was a torture unlike any other that I have ever felt in my life.
I left Rosetta alone and in danger while that animal was escaping from prison, and not only did he almost kill her, but he also almost killed Chilli because he was there when she needed him to be.
“Rosetta,” I now murmur, the word coming out in a croaked whisper that has her head shooting up.
The moment she sees me, she leaps up and flies into my arms, her body climbing mine and clinging to it, while my arms clamp around her, holding her so tightly that I can’t tell which one of us is shaking harder.
“Oh, God—I’m so glad you’re here. No offense to Chilli and the rest of the family, but I missed the heck outta you,” she chokes out, her tears wetting my neck where she’s buried her face.
“Baby,” is all I can manage to say, a lump choking my throat and blocking all the words that were rushing through my head on the way here.
I blame myself for this, and I always will. I should have been there with her instead of miles away, trying to plot a course through what I call the minefield of Rosetta. Instead of talking to her, like I should have, I ran away and tried to think of ways to redirect her. The truth is, we are as alike as two halves of a whole, but in the little ways, we’re not at all suited. I guess that when I realized that, and also found out how stark our differences really are, it freaked me out so much that I panicked. And then I panicked even more when it came time to face the facts.
There’s no reason that Rosetta should love anything about me. I’m boring and quiet, and I like to spend my time doing things that make her yawn and bounce around for something else to do. I hate change, I like the monotony that comes from routine, and I want to go absolutely nuts when she breaks my shit.
We’re nothing alike, and after the dust of our “courtship” settled and we eased into some semblance of normality, it became even more apparent that we aren’t an ideal match. Like I said, it freaked me out, and the harder she pushed for us to connect, the more I pulled away and tried to learn about her, thinking that if I did, I could find something, some common interest, that could be our glue.
It only came to me last night, when she called me, that we don’t need glue. We love each other, and that alone is why we are a perfect match. That’s when I rushed her off the phone, then called the pilot to file a flight plan and get my ass back here. Too late, though, and for that, I won’t ever forgive myself.
“Stop it,” I hear, feeling Rosetta’s hands pulling my head up and forcing my eyes open so that I see her beautiful face smiling down at me, looking both fierce and tender as I gulp and shake my head, unable to speak. “This wasn’t on you. According to what Messing and his team have pieced together, Hilan escaped days ago and was only waiting for his chance. It could have been last night, yesterday, or three days from now. We wouldn’t have known until Messing’s team discovered that he’d escaped, and, from the sounds of it, that wouldn’t have been anytime soon since the two agents they had transporting him were in on it with him,” she tells me, her mouth quirking.
“He paid them off?” I ask, walking out of the room with her straddling me, because I need to be alone with her, and, as for the rest, they can just wait.
Even Chilli, though God knows that I owe him a debt I can’t ever repay.
“They’re surmising. They aren’t talking yet,” she says with a shrug, shaking her head with a huff now that her tears have stopped.
I want to kiss her—need to—and the minute that I step into Pop’s office and get the door closed, I do, pouring every ounce of my gratitude and love into it. I kiss her and silently tell her that I love her. I apologize. I make promises that I can’t possibly keep but will die trying to.
When we break apart, panting and pressed close together, our bodies heating up with passion, she is the one who reaches down to unzip my pants, her small hand stroking me to fullness and then guiding me to her core, where her robe and nightie are no deterrent to my entry.
The moment that I slide into her, my thrust hard despite the care I take, we both shout out, shuddering and going still in order to savor the moment.
“I love you so much. I wish that I had been here for you when you needed me,” I whisper, filled with emotions so strong that I have to clear my throat before speaking again.
“You were. You made me repeat those emergency codes over and over again, Z. You made sure that I knew who lived on what floor, and where I should go if I needed to get out. You prepared me so that I could save myself if I needed to, and then you made sure that Chilli was watching me, you freak,” she whispers, tightening her core to let me know that it’s time to move.
I want to speak, to say everything that I feel in answer to all the questions she had, but the feel of her—the way that her sex ripples and pulses around mine, and the way that her juices, thick and hot, scald me as they coat my cock—is too much to resist. Pulling back, I let her feel me and then steal her screams with my mouth when I slam back in, letting my cock sink as deeply as it can reach while praying that this time, it’ll take.
Rosetta sighs into my mouth and kisses me more deeply, her tongue sucking at mine and then tangling with it, and her panting breaths filling my lungs and reviving me from the cold, dead terror that gripped me earlier. She’s here. She’s alive, and we have the rest of our lives
to build this life together that we both want. That’s what’s important, I think, and I make love to her, our rhythm a measured, hard grind that has me going tight and reaching for her clit, my fingers working frantically to take her over the edge.
She screams, shouting her release into my mouth just as I tip over, and my balls draw up and spew out my seed before I can stop it. It’s a quick, hard, uncoordinated coupling, but it’s just what I needed, and it’s what she needed as well, if the way that she groans and melts into me is any indication.
“Don’t ever think, even for one moment, that we are not meant to be,” she murmurs when I move from the door over to the couch, taking us both down so that she sprawls over my chest languidly. “The moment that you called me that first time, I was hooked. On you. Not on your hobbies, or your likes and dislikes. I liked talking to you, Z. You’re smart and funny, and you listen to me and care about how I feel. It’s not the big explosion that I thought it would be, but that’s good; it’s better. I love that I can be safe with you, I love that you listen to me and take me as I am, and mostly I love that you gave me the choice to love you back. That’s kismet, baby,” she tells me, leaning her chin on her folded arm and grinning up at me.
“Chilli saved you,” I grump, my ever-present jealousy rearing its head as usual, because it just had to be him.
Dammit.
“I guess. Look on the bright side, though,” she muses, her impish smile chasing away the horror of the last few hours as only Rosetta can.
This is it, though—this is one of the reasons that I fell for her, and then kept falling. She can’t be beaten, she can’t be cowed, and you can bet your ass that she’s going to bounce back. That’s just Rosetta. Scary. Sweet. Bossy. As insensitive as hell. And stranger than any woman I have ever known.
“What bright side?” I ask, knowing that I may not like where she’s leading—not with the way that she’s grinning, her look so full of smug glee and mischief that I should probably give her a nickname as a warning to the mere mortals who come within her orbit.