Chapter 33
SCARLETT
His eyes immediately find mine, and my heart skips a beat.
Cross strides farther into the old factory, seemingly as casual as if he were strolling through campus. A duffel bag hangs in his hand, and I bet if I listen hard enough, I’ll hear bundles of my father’s cash shuffling around inside.
“‘Bout time,” Alex says, coming to stand in front of me.
“Yeah, ‘bout time,” the other one repeats.
My heart is in my stomach, and the closer Cross gets to us, the more my eyes water.
“Let her go.” His tone is eerily calm, and I cling onto it like his voice is my protection.
I look past the men and their broad shoulders at the door, wondering if the police are going to come. Or maybe my father. But there’s nothing except a vast area with dormant factory machines and a dirty concrete floor.
“We will let her go when you hand over the money you owe us,” Jason sneers.
“This is more than I owe you,” Cross says. “What’s the other fifty thousand for?”
Jason’s shoulders tense. “For pain and suffering. Your bitch of a girlfriend stabbed me in the leg.”
I lean to the left and catch a glimpse of Cross. His jaw is clenched tight as he pulls the duffel bag higher in his grip.
“Have something to say, boy?” Alex asks. “Or can we get this over with?”
Cross glances at me, his brown eyes full of an apology. He tosses the bag across the room, and it lands with a thud. Dust kicks up in between them as Cross attempts to get to me, only he stops abruptly, his shoes slipping against the dusty floor.
Alex pushes something onto his chest. “Not so fast.”
Cross’s arms immediately go up in surrender.
My eyes widen.
I catch sight of a gun, the barrel long and shiny. I plead through the duct tape on my mouth and pull on my wrists again.
Cross looks at me instead of the man pointing the gun at him. Time stops as a tear slips over my cheek. Cross’s neck bobs with a swallow, his cheeks hollow with worry, his hands remaining in their upright position.
“Count it,” Alex barks.
Jason quickly unzips the bag and mutters numbers under his breath.
The longer it takes for him to finish the task, the more impatient Alex seems to become. I stare at the barrel pressed against Cross’s chest, and my heart thumps so quickly I think it’s trying to reach his.
“Hurry up,” Alex presses, digging the gun into Cross’s chest even harder.
I clench my eyes together, too sick with worry to stare any longer.
It’s fine. It’s fine. They’re going to take the money and run.
“It’s all here,” Jason announces.
I open my eyes at the sound of the zipper and watch Alex slowly lower the gun away from Cross.
Oh, thank god.
Cross finally shifts his gaze from mine and looks at both men. “This settles my debt.”
It isn’t a question. Instead, it’s a statement.
Alex chuckles darkly. “You’ve got the confidence of someone who already knows how this ends.”
Cross’s eyebrows crease, and that same look on his face when I told him about Nicholas appears. “That’s because I do.”
Jason shifts the duffel bag to the other hand and smirks. “He’s got the confidence of someone who isn’t looking down the barrel of a gun.”
Alex shrugs and then raises the gun in Cross’s direction.
I scream, though it’s muffled. My wrists burn as I pull on them again and again, the chair creaking beneath my weight.
“Your little girlfriend seems distressed,” Alex says, turning and pointing the gun at me.
I stop moving immediately and stare at Alex’s hand wrapped around the gun. His finger hovers over the trigger.
“If you shoot her, you’ll be in the pen for a lot longer.” Cross’s words come out tight.
“The pen?” Jason laughs. “Unless you get the cops involved–”
Alex and Jason share a look, and suddenly their fun is cut short. They make a run for it. Alex shoves the gun into the back of his jeans as Jason holds the duffel close to his chest, both of them sprinting toward the door.
Cross reaches me in record time, and his shaky fingers work quickly to take the tape off my mouth. I wince at the pain, and as soon as my mouth is freed, I burst out into a sob.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Cross presses a kiss to my forehead and disappears behind me. “Oh my god,” he murmurs quietly, faintly touching my wrists. “Fuck, I need something sharp.”
Sirens echo in the distance, and I gasp with relief.
I thought it was just a trick to get them to leave.
The police are actually coming? They know?
Cross runs to one of the machines in the center of the factory, his movements jerky. Random objects clamor to the floor, but before I know it, Cross is back over to me with what looks like a rusty utility knife.
“Stay still, baby,” he says in a hushed voice.
The zip ties snap, the edge of them cutting into my skin as they slip to the floor.
I’m cradled in Cross’s arms before I even take a breath.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I keep my bloody hands still but press myself close to Cross. His heart pounds against my ear as I bury my face into his shirt, his grip on me tightening as he carries me toward the door.
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he mutters. “You’re in shock.”
I shake my head against his chest. “I’m–I’m not in shock.”
Fresh air hits my tear-stained face as I pull away from him. I glance into his face. His jaw, always sturdy and hardened, hangs loose with worry.
“I’m shaking from relief." My lip wobbles. “I thought they were going to kill you.”
Cross creases his brow. “Weren’t you afraid they were going to kill you?”
I think for a moment.
Cross Lopez.
My stepbrother.
The bane of my existence.
The guy I’ve found myself in love with.
“No,” I whisper. “I was only worried about you.”
His lip twitches. “And I was only worried about you.”
“Scarlett!” I turn at the sound of my father and stiffen at the scene unfolding.
Red and blue lights flash in the background as both of our parents run toward us. Several officers stand over both Alex and Jason, who both have cuffs on their wrists, with the duffel and gun on top of one of the patrol cars.
“I love you,” Cross whispers into my ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps over every inch of my skin.
I snap my attention to him, and suddenly the chaos is gone. Another tear slips over my cheek to land on my parted lips. “I love you too,” I whisper.
My father takes me from Cross’s arms, his racing heart matching his stepson’s. The mayhem ensues while I’m carried to a nearby ambulance while Cross’s mom remains by Cross’s side, checking him over for injuries.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” my dad chokes out.
I peer up at him, his blue eyes a perfect match to mine. “And Cross?” I ask hesitantly.
His hand rests on my knee as a paramedic wraps gauze around my wrist. “Both of you.”
I exhale deeply and flop backward onto the stretcher. “Good,” I say wearily. “Because I’m in love with him.”
I don’t know if it’s the exhaustion, or the shock of the last twelve hours, or maybe it’s the high I’m riding because Cross admitted that he loves me too, but I let the truth slide out effortlessly to my father, knowing very well that being in love with my stepbrother is completely unorthodox.
To my surprise, he chuckles.
I peer at him with confusion, and he shakes his head, half smiling. “I know, sweetheart.”
He does?
How?
“He said the same thing to us before he came to get you.” He rubs the back of his neck, where I know most of his tension sits. “We’ll figure this out later. For now, let’s get you fixed up.”
I nod and give my other wrist to the paramedic.
“But sweetheart?”
I glance at my dad again.
His jaw clenches for a split second. “I want to know what that boy did to you at Yale.”
My stomach turns. I immediately look elsewhere.
He pats my knee gently. “Not now. But when you’re ready.”
I let out a shaky breath and nod.
“Sir, can I take her vitals?”
“Oh, right. Yes, of course.”
My dad hops up to move out of the way and tells me he’s going to go check on Cross. Before I can even say the words, he looks at me over his shoulder and says, “And then I’ll send him over, okay?”
I try to hide my smile.
But in the end, I can’t.