23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Maya
I yawned as I pulled my coat on. From my brief glance out of the hospital window as I had headed to the locker room earlier, I saw that rain pummeled the pavement, a constant deluge that flooded the streets.
I’d just gotten off a fourteen-hour shift in the emergency department at Mourningside General—a shift that should have ended two hours ago. My replacement had shown up late, claiming car trouble from the rain. It was probably the truth, but I was tired and cranky and just wanted to go home.
It was just after two in the morning and I should have been in bed already. My phone had been blowing up all night with messages from my guys, until I finally caught a bathroom break and called them back.
Jason had promised me a spanking for ignoring his calls, but I hadn’t been in the mood for him.
I was exhausted and had witnessed a small child come in with multiple gunshot wounds to the torso.
An alleged mistake from his slightly older brother.
I didn’t know what to believe, as the mother was inconsolable and the father was absent.
I had used my safe-word mid conversation with my boys, effectively cutting off their bickering. My men had remained silent while I had explained my night and then they told me that they loved me and to get home safe.
Two years into our relationship and our dynamic had transformed into a full-time twenty-four-seven d/s relationship.
I had thought that I’d never commit to a full-time dynamic, but it had progressed so naturally, that when Jason had brought it to my attention one day, I had just smiled and shrugged.
They were my Dom’s and I was their Sub—that was all that mattered to me.
I enjoyed them taking charge and taking care of me.
Following their rules was such a turn on for me.
Most of the time, we were on the same page about our relationship, and when we weren’t, we paused and spoke about our feelings.
If one of us really wasn’t listening, then we used a safe-word, my guys included.
Since I’d been at work when I had used my safe-word, it was more of a wake-up call to my overprotective and very worried Dom’s. They knew my job could be crazy and unpredictable. They were just worried that I wasn’t home. It was late and the weather was crap and we lived in an unsafe world.
So when I texted our group chat at two in the morning, I was not surprised when I immediately received a response from Nico, to get home safe in the rain.
Maya:
Finally clocking out and headed home
Nico:
Get home safe Little Dreamer. Shit went down at the clubhouse. We’ll be home late.
I was a little surprised that they hadn’t come to pick me up, but his text was all I had to go off.
“Night Dwight,” I mumbled to the night-shift security guard as I walked by, finally headed for the main door of the hospital.
“Goodnight, Miss Maya. You have a safe drive home now.” The older man gave me one of his bright white smiles.
I returned his easy smile and wondered if I should just wait out the rain a couple hours, maybe find a supply closet that one of the residents had carved a sleeping cubby into.
As quickly as that thought entered my mind, I dismissed it. I’d just finished a fourteen-hour shift, at the end of a six-day run. I was about to be off for the next eight days and I was more than ready to be home and in my own bed. I wouldn’t even bother showering until I woke up .
A crack of lighting flashed across the sky, followed quickly by a booming blast of thunder that rattled my bones and the windows.
“Shit,” I muttered as I paused at the door.
My Honda Civic was parked somewhere in the middle of the employee lot, a good hundred yards away from the door.
There was no doubt about it, I was getting soaked.
I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head and muttered, “Fuck it.” I darted out into the night and the torrential downpour, praying I didn’t slip and fall.
When I was finally safe in my car, I started the engine before I stripped off my soaking wet hoody. I grabbed a dry one from the mountain of laundry that was tossed in the back seat, still there from the weekend before when I’d planned to go to the laundry mat, but never made it.
Now I was grateful for the dry clothes as I waited for my car to warm up in the early spring night. While I waited, my car made a dinging noise and I groaned when I saw the gas light had come on. “Motherfucker,” I sighed.
Annoyed, I pulled out of the parking spot and fixed the radio as I pulled out of the lot. I headed down the road toward home, hoping that the twenty-four-hour gas station by the house wasn’t closed because Barry decided to drink on the job and locked up early.
Ten minutes later I pulled into the well-lit gas station and sighed.
It was still raining torrentially and the overhangs didn’t help when the rain was blowing sideways.
I was the only car in the lot though. I quickly got out my car and did the deed of paying with my credit card before I put the nozzle in my tank, then rushed back into the car.
I was just settling in when two cars raced into the parking lot, a fancy BMW coupe and a late model Buick LaSabre.
The LaSabre roughly cut off the BWM, boxing it in between me and pump.
I watched in horror as an older white man climbed out of the BMW and started shouting at the driver of the LaSabre.
My blood chilled in my veins as the driver of LaSabre opened the door and stepped out. Dressed in black from the hood on his head, to the heavy black boots he wore, the man that stepped out was broad-shouldered and tall. Much taller than the older white man that had stepped out of the BMW.
One look at the man covered in black clothing, had shivers running down my spine. He may be some twenty feet away and in the pouring rain, but the man was intimidating as hell, as was the Glock 9mm he pulled out of the back of his pants.
I gasped, watching the scene unfold before me, like watching a car crash—I wasn’t able to look away. Lighting flashed as thunder rolled through and the black-clad man fired off the 9mm several times.
The older white man jerked back violently, as his body absorbed the bullets .
I covered my mouth to keep myself from screaming, as the shooter pumped several more rounds into his victim, and he fell backwards onto the hard pavement.
There was no doubt in my mind I had just witness a hit—this was an outright assassination. And I was in the wrong place at the wrong damn time. Motherfucking shit.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
There was a loud thump as the gas pump finished filling my Civic. I jumped in my seat, startled and drew the attention of the shooter. That intimidating man, dressed in all black, turned my way. He gave just the slightest tilt of his head, as he acknowledged my presence.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I gasped, fumbling for the lock on my car door. I couldn’t drive away; the nozzle was still in the gas tank.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the man in black turned and stalked toward me. In no time at all, he was before me, stopping right outside my driver’s side window, towering over my car. He placed a hand on the roof and leaned down to face me, using the Glock to knock on the window to get my attention.
I jumped at the sound, even though I watched his every move.
He motioned with the gun for me to exit the vehicle.
My heart pounded in my chest as blood rushed my ears.
Fight or flight, bitch! Fucking move! I thought about just driving off, letting the gas nozzle rip out of my tank as I drove away.
A bit of damage to my car and maybe ripping off the gas line out was the least of my problems, right?
Not when there was a dead body on the pavement some twenty feet away.
The station had to have insurance, right?
I could drive off and live to see another day.
He knocked on the window with the gun again.
I scrambled for the door handle, already cursing my decision. So much for fight or flight.
The man barely stepped back as I stepped out of the car.
He was in my face, in my bubble a moment later.
His breath was rancid, smelled like stale cigarettes and whiskey.
There was a thick, jagged scar that ran down the left side of his face, almost half an inch thick.
It was raised and puffy, and sliced through his eye.
The iris on his left eye was a pale blue, almost gray, probably blinded from the injury.
I forced myself to look into his right eye, the iris almost as dark as night.
He watched me silently, his gaze roaming over my face. He reached out and pulled my clipped-on work badge off my shirt. “Maya Henderson,” he said coldly, his voice a nasally rasp as he read my name tag.
I shivered, not only from the cold and rain, but from the way his voice skated over me. His voice was higher than I thought it’d be, not like the deep scary killer he appeared. I’d never heard anyone sound like he had before…it was almost unhuman.
“Please don’t kill me,” I murmured, shivering. “I promise. I didn’t see anything. I won’t say anything. ”
He struck before I even saw him move. His massive hand wrapped around my jaw, gripping me tightly.
He shoved my face backwards, my head slamming back against the side of my car as he forced my face to look up at him.
His fingers dug in harder, nails puncturing my skin.
“You saw nothing, Maya Henderson, because nothing happened,” he growled in my face.
I whimpered as he squeezed my jaw even harder, before he slammed my head back against the car again.
My ears rang as I lost my focus on him towering above me.
Pain radiated through my skull and down my spine as my teeth clenched painfully in my mouth.
I let out a stifled whimper when he leaned even closer to my face.
“I’ll be watching you Maya Henderson,” he rasped, his face inches from mine. “Your family, your coworkers, even your little dog won’t be safe from me, if you tell a single soul what happened here tonight.”
I nodded as much as he would allow with his fingers still painfully grasping my face. “No one,” I muttered.
“I’ve got your name, your place of work, and your license plate,” he rasped again, an amused air spreading across his face. “Soon, I’ll know everything about you.”
I trembled as a shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
He chuckled darkly and finally let me go .
I scrambled to get my feet under me before I fell to my ass on the wet pavement.
“Get home, little rabbit,” he chuckled, before he turned away.
Then he was gone, climbing back into his LaSabre and easing out of the gas station parking lot, like a man with all the time in the world—not like a man who just murdered in cold blood.
My hands shook as I quickly pulled the nozzle out of my gas tank.
I screwed on the gas cap and shut the metal cover.
I was back in my car a moment later. I didn’t wait to stop shaking.
I had to drive away. I couldn’t be here.
I needed to be far, far away from the scene when it was discovered, and who knew when Barry would wake up from his little nap behind the counter.