Held

by T K Barber

Two loops loosened that time, and she started wriggling that arm free. If she could just get the hand on that arm loose!

  Voices sounded on the other side of the door, and her heart skipped, aching with the effort. She prayed through the staggering pain in her shoulder.

  One more tug. It had to be just one more!

  All at once both arms were released as the rope fell away. She held her breath, scrunching her face in an intense effort against screaming out in agony. The indentations exploded red, and the rushing blood made her vision white-out for several thudding heartbeats.

  Her shoulder throbbed and burned where the tiniest of tears opened back up, but she had to move.

  She rushed to work her legs free, straining against crying out. The voices became clearer and closer as she pulled her feet free.

  Steven. And another man.

  She stumbled up from the chair, so dizzy she nearly fell against the wall. Shaking her head, she turned and grabbed the only weapon she had, which was a hell of a lot heavier than it looked. The chair dropped halfway back down, and she gritted her teeth, face soaked with tears.

  She fought with all her might to keep the chair up, her body shaking and her nearly useless shoulder barely hanging on.

  The door yanked open, and she was greeted by a distant burst of machine-gun fire, which startled her, nearly toppling the chair from her grip.

  “Shiner, Go sort it out!”

  Steven’s voice, taught with anxiety. Fear thundered through her, mixing with intense hatred and rage.

  He wasn't going to lay one more damn finger on her. Not if she had a say about it. Several single shots echoed through the warehouse, and distant shouts barely reached her ears.

  Unlikely that they’d be fighting each other. Which must have meant—

  Steven's laugh rolled in from the threshold. “That cock-stupid son of a bitch! I'm almost going to hate killing him. I didn't think he'd actually show up. I thought for sure he was going to let them both die when he chose her. Bruno, take Arlo, head around the side. Take them out. If he gets through, I'll handle it, but shoot him if you see him first.”

  The leather snap of Steven’s holster echoed in her pounding head, and she sneered.

  She'd die before she let that happen.

  With a deep breath, she hoisted the chair higher and stepped out from behind the door. The sight of his back enraged her, giving her the final burst of adrenaline she needed to push through the pain.

  She brought the chair down in a rapid arc, aided by gravity and her inability to hold it any longer. It slammed into his back, forcing him forward several steps before he bellowed in pain and dropped to a knee.

  She didn't waste a single second. She threw the chair at him and scrambled through the door to the main room of the warehouse. The hundreds of dusty old crates and tarps covering who knew what would hopefully afford her the perfect cover.

  “GOD DAMN IT! Get back here, you worthless . . .!”

  The chair scraped against the floor, the clanged against the concrete further away, spurring her to run faster. She tripped several times, dizzy from adrenaline and pain. She clutched her shoulder as she made it to a crate just on the other side of the dock door.

  She threw her back against it, squinting as she desperately sucked in gulps of air. Just a little further.

  She exhaled, rolled around the edge of the crate . . . straight into the barrel chest of a large man.

  “AAHHH!”

  He grabbed her shoulders, causing another blast of pain to rocket through her. She struggled like mad against his abnormally large hands, grimacing against the pain in her shoulder from each movement. He called over his shoulder.

  “Got her, boss! Over b—”

  A high-pitched noise strafed her ear followed by a tiny wet sound. She froze in shock and the grip on her arms released as the man dropped to the ground, plus one perfect heart shot.

  She blinked several times before she refocused, stumbled around the man's body, and headed straight to the regular door beside the rollup one.

  Locked. By key.

  “No! No no no!” She jerked uselessly on the knob several more times before slapping her hand to her face. “God!”

  She took several steps backward and headed for another crate, hoping to make it to the main entrance. It was a long shot, but it was all she had.

  “Look what I found.”

  Steven met her as she rounded the edge of another crate and she screamed at the top of her lungs. He grabbed her arm and jerked her back toward the office, ducking behind crates as he went. Even though he hadn’t grabbed the bad one, the jarring motion itself caused a new wave of pain.

  “God, you asshole, just let me go already!”

  Steven let out a half-amused, half-disgusted sound. “I can't believe you really, honestly thought you'd get away.”

  He rounded a crate, paused a moment to check the path, then strode quickly toward the door, yanking her along behind him. She stumbled along in shock, battling to stay conscious as each pull on her arm radiated white-hot pain through her.

  “You're almost more trouble than you're worth!”

  He paused at another crate for only a second, then gave her another rough tug as he trotted to the final crate.

  “Your boyfriend doesn't even realize how stupid it was to come h—”

  A rocket of a punch slammed into Steven's face, snapping his head back at least six inches. He released Scarlet and staggered. She stumbled two steps to the right and collapsed against a large box, shaking and pale. Blood gushed from Steven’s nose as he bellowed in pain.

  “Maybe. But I'm not 'give away my position in a gunfight' stupid.”

  Nick cocked the gun and loosed five shots in rapid succession: two in the head, three in the chest. Several warm splatters hit her as Steven dropped like a lead weight to the ground, slumped backward, and flattened in a growing puddle of his own blood.

  Scarlet let out a short breath and froze, eyes locked on the crimson stain on the warehouse floor.

  Annalise

  The shot was quiet, almost delicate.

  Annalise sucked in a sharp breath and flinched, peeking her eyes back open.

  It was so quiet at first, she wasn't even sure what had happened. It didn't hurt like she expected it too. Not at all like being slapped or punched. Or kicked.

  She looked down expecting to see blood somewhere, but she seemed fine.

  Oh. Thank God! They must have been aiming somewhere else. Good, now they just had to run.

  She turned around and was met with Thomas's honeyed eyes, wide and shining. He gripped the door frame with one hand and squeezed hers tightly with the other.

  “Wha—”

  That's when she noticed the growing wet circle on his stomach. And the shine on his black shirt.

  “NO!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

  ***Thomas***

  Tears ripped from her eyes as Thomas stared in shock. How could he have gone and gotten his dumb self shot? He looked down at the blood, and back at her. He failed her.

  Eyes wide, she screamed silently as he dropped her hand to touch her jaw.

  “Sor—ry Ann—”

  Burning pain exploded through his body, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  He was on the ground when he reopened them, her beautiful face hovering above him. Her mouth moved, and tears dripped from her eyes as she leaned over him, but he just worked to memorize her.

  Her dimples that peeked out when he was extra funny, even though he couldn’t see them right now. He wanted to remember those, for sure. That knockout smile, those eyes. And all that thick, black hair.

  His arm was heavy as he rubbed a lock of it with his thumb and index finger. She grabbed his hand and mouthed words before placing several kisses on his palm. He liked that. Her lips were so soft. Like a couple of clouds.

  What was she trying so hard to say? She was so gorgeous.

  He saw
a quick flash of her with longer hair, holding two little babies, a third one running around her feet. Yeah. His face twitched into a smile. Two at least. Jax and Caleb, for sure.

  Annalise crumpled forward, cupping his cheeks with those soft hands. She kissed his mouth repeatedly, and he wanted to kiss her back, but it wouldn't work. Hopefully, she’d remember how it felt before.

  She put her mouth to his ear, and he finally heard her.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you, please don't go! Please! Don't die, Thomas, I love you so much! Don't go! Just hold on, okay? You'll be fi—Thomas . . . Thomas! I love you. No no no no no no. Jesus. God, please, I’m begging you! PLEASE NO! Ju—”

  Her cries grew too loud to hear, and it all went silent again. He watched her scream in slow motion and tried to tell her it'd be ok.

  To run, she was almost there.

  That he'd pay her triple if she'd just smile at him. One last time.

  That he loved her too. More than breathing.

  And that he'd see her at the end. Where they had nothing but time.

  But his mouth wouldn't work. Then he couldn't see her, and that was the worst pain of all. Those hands cradled his face again, and he willed himself to smile, but that wouldn't work either. Hopefully, she’d remember what it looked like.

  He fought with all he had to open his eyes one last time and saw her blurry face as it was being yanked away.

  Don't say bye, Anna.

  A large pair of hands wrapped around each of his arms, then . . .

  Nothing.

  Scarlet

  “Scarlet.”

  Nick's warm, rough palms were on her face in an instant, wiping the blood away. She forced her eyes to move and found his.

  “Nick!”

  Instant relief and overwhelming joy rolled through her.

  Then right back out.

  She exhaled a sharp breath and clutched her stomach. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” She shoved his chest with her good arm, and his eyes bugged as his mouth dropped open.

  “Why did you choose me? You should have—”

  She bent at the waist, breathless with heartache. One gasp in and she stood up straight again. “You should have let me die.” She staggered and held her throat, squeezing her eyes shut then pulled her hand down to shout. “Is it too late to go to her? Someone here must know the address. Go get her!”

  She shoved him again, with less force, before another wave of pain rushed through her and she clutched her arm. She put her hand over her mouth and shook her head, dislodging several tears.

  “I already made the choice,” he almost whispered it. “But, listen it’s—”

  God, how could he do that?

  “Why?! You should have let me die!”

  She screamed and collapsed to her knees, the weight of everything too much to carry. Both hands flew to her mouth that time, her eyes wide as tears poured out.

  Nick dropped in front of her and wrapped her up tight. He smoothed down her hair and spoke to the side of her head.

  “I'd never let you die! God, Scarlet,” he buried his face in her hair. “I love you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath and held it, terrified and elated.

  How could he say that to her? She wrapped her arm around his neck and released every bit of sorrow, guilt, and fear in a torrent of fat teardrops, soaking his shoulder.

  “I think I always have. Since that first damn night when you grabbed my jacket and said my name.” He breathed in deeply, squeezing her tighter. “I had no fucking chance.”

  Her heart swelled painfully in her chest, pitting her stomach against her body.

  One love that cost another. She couldn’t live with that. She couldn’t go on knowing that because she refused to take a cab that night and insisted on walking home, determined to prove she was tough enough to handle it . . . she doomed his precious little sister to a death sentence.

  She screamed out a sob that dragged her soul through broken glass and squeezed him tighter, afraid if she let go, she'd fall so far down she'd never find her way back.

  He cupped her face, kissing her through her sobs. “I love you, Scarlet.” He held her firmly, pressing his forehead to hers.

  Rage and desperation rolled through her. Nausea. Devastation. She shook in his grip, racked with cries.

  “Please. Just,” his voice was a ragged wave. “Please forgive me.”

  Her head spun, and she couldn't breathe.

  Forgive him for what? Maybe he meant for choosing her over Annalise. Or for killing her father. Maybe for killing all those people. Whatever the reason, could she do that? Was she willing to do that?

  Her heart squeezed. The real question was whether she was willing to lose him if she didn’t.

  He muttered, “Please,” several times with his eyes closed, her breath catching in tandem. She squeezed her arms around his neck so tight the pain in her shoulder magnified, only adding to the depth of her sobs.

  “Nick . . .”

  He tightened his grip and buried his face further in her hair. “I won't be able to go on if you don't.” His voice was quiet, broken. “Not now.”

  He pressed his cheek to the side of her head. “Tell me, Scarlet. Please. I need to hear it.”

  He cleared his throat. A whisper, meant only for her, brushed against her skin.

  “Even if it's a lie, and you'll leave me in the morning. Just . . . say it.”

  Her eyes flew open, and she leaned back to see a watery Nick.

  Leave . . .

  She blinked several times, and he cleared, only to blur again.

  Leave?

  He squeezed his eyes and pulled her in for a tight embrace, but she pushed back out of his arms. His brows knitted as his expression twisted in devastation, her own heart twisting in tortured response. He drew his legs up and hung his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

  The thought of never seeing him again filled her with insurmountable dread. She'd long for him every second of her pointless, empty, sad life.

  She choked on another sob then cleared her throat as she looked at his downturned face, watching him shatter in front of her. But forgiveness was something else.

  “Nick.” His face popped up, gaze piercing her. “I . . . ca . . .”

  She swallowed and looked down for a moment before refocusing on him. His eyes widened, and he paled. The torrent of pain, love, regret, passion, terror and crippling sadness shining through them threatened to suffocate her, and she struggled for air.

  She had already decided that she'd kill a hundred people if it would keep him safe. Now, she was mere words from becoming the weapon that did him in.

  She took his hands in her shaky grip and pulled them up to her face.

  “I . . . forgive you.”

  The air shifted around him. He pulled his hands free, crumpled forward, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her up from the floor and onto his lap. She threw her arms around his head and threaded her fingers through his hair.

  She knew it was true. How could she not? After everything he'd been through, they'd been through. She knew.

  “I love you, Nick,” she exhaled a jagged breath and sucked in another one, as he cinched his arms tighter. “And I forgive you.”

  “God,” was all he said as his shaky breaths brushed against the nape of her neck.

  “I love you, Nick.” She stopped fighting the remaining tears that were aching for freedom and sobbed. “I love you.”

  They sat in that embrace, speaking love only to each other until the shaking subsided and they had nothing left to cry. And then a moment longer.

  Scarlet

  “Scarlet!”

  Scarlet's head whipped around so fast her neck hurt, and she nearly toppled off Nick’s lap. The sound of that voice was the last thing she ever expected to hear.

  “Mom?! What the hell are you doing here?!”

  Her mom ran up and grabbed Sca
rlet, hugging her and rocking her side to side. Scarlet fought tears, wrapped in the familiar rosemary scent of her mother's perfume, and a long-lost memory of love. Scarlet's favorite scent. Her dad's favorite scent.

  “My God, I was so worried!”

  She pushed Scarlet back to arm’s length and frowned. Scarlet was even happy to see that face.

  “Are you hurt? Why are you,” she narrowed her eyes. “Why is there blood on you?”

  Scarlet cleared her throat and gestured with her head, suddenly at a loss for words. Mrs. Price followed the gesture, and her eyes widened. Nick rose from the floor and stepped up behind Scarlet.

  Even just his presence behind her was comforting, touching or not.

  “So, it's done. Good.”

  Good? Done?

  Scarlet’s mind had nothing left to devote to anything confusing. She had to let it go, for now. Marianna gave her one last squeeze before pulling away, then she walked over to Nick and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

  “Thank you for being brave enough to trust me. And brave enough to rescue my daughter.”

  He gave her a friendly pat on the back, looked at Scarlet, and swallowed. Emotions raced through those eyes, and Scarlet knew each one.

  “Anytime. Every time.”

  Mrs. Price stepped back and smoothed down her blazer. “Nick, you did your father proud, you’re so much like he was. I know Scarlet will be well protected from now on.” The shock on Nick's face made her smile, and she cleared her throat and nodded. “We'll talk more when you feel you're ready. More importantly: we found her. We've got her. The simultaneous hit worked.”

  Nick exhaled fully and dropped to his hands and knees. As a thick, relieved sob ripped from his chest, he crumpled further down to his elbows, his hands covering the back of his head. Scarlet stumbled forward and fell to her sore knees in front of him, gathering his shaking body to her and crying with him.

  “Oh, my God, Nick!” She kissed every spot she could reach and hugged him as tightly as she could manage with her shoulder.

  There really was no adequate way to convey the deep level of relief that gave her and she knew Nick’s was at least a hundred times deeper.