21. Fiona
Chapter 21
Fiona
I opened my eyes slowly. A wide window on the sidewall. Trees blocking the sunlight. That was right. I was in Lakeville. In Erica’s home. She was supposed to cheer me up. But now it was morning.
How much had I had to drink?
“Good job taking your medicine,” Erica called around the corner. “How long ago did you drink that? Are you feeling any of the effects yet? It should help you relax.”
I could barely turn my head. What had I taken? My vision kept shifting, like the world was constantly falling on its side. I clutched my stomach; I was going to throw up.
“I said, how are you feeling, Fi?” Erica asked.
I wrinkled my brows, or tried to, but I couldn’t tell if I did. My face was numb.
“If you lay back like that,” she pushed on my shoulder until I was pressed against the couch, “nausea won’t get to you this time. There you go. Just like that.”
This time?
I closed my eyes, willing them to open again. But the headache split through me. I was so tired. The last thing I could remember was falling asleep, then waking up and being thirsty. Taking that drink off of the side table.
Was that my medicine?
“Your lover is on the way,” she said. Did she mean Sawyer? Why was he coming here? “Seems he cares about you after all. I thought he was—I don’t know—fascinated? Infatuated? There’s the word!”
Was she insulting me?
She pinched my chin. “Such a sad little girl,” she said. “But at least you’re keeping it down this time.”
The world sloshed from side to side. Keep it down, like throwing up? I tried to think. When was the last time I had thrown up?
Had she been there the night I had puked at the nightclub?
She was there, wasn’t she?
She had given me my first shot.
The soda water last night.
I reached for my face. It was puffy and swollen, stung to the touch. I questioned Erica with my eyes.
“I might be small,” she said, “But the brass knuckles help. Trust me. You should get some if you make it out.”
Someone pounded on the front door.
“That must be him!” she said.
I tried to pull myself up, but my head fell back on the couch. Erica perked up, grabbing her gun and aiming it at me. I pressed my lips together.
Would she really kill me?
The door burst open. I tried to push myself up, to grab her gun, but I kept missing every time.
“Let me go,” I murmured .
“Aww, wish I could, but—” she pulled back the hammer, “—we’re in here, boss!”
Sawyer’s heavy footsteps came down the hallway. His blue-gray eyes looked ready to tear Erica apart.
“Sit down,” Erica said.
I sank into the cushions, trying to keep myself grounded. Once Sawyer was seated, he opened his palms, showing that they were empty.
“Put the gun down,” Sawyer commanded. “Fiona isn’t involved in this. I am.”
Erica wrinkled her nose. “Pockets. Holster.”
Sawyer exposed his pockets, pulling them inside out, then showed her his holster. He put the gun on the table next to her. But he had to have another weapon somewhere, right? He couldn’t be completely empty-handed.
Could he?
“Leave Fiona alone,” Sawyer repeated. “She isn’t a part of this.”
“Yeah, right. She’s been involved in this for how many years now?” Erica tapped her chin with the back of the gun. “Four years? Or is it five?”
How had I been a part of this scheme for years?
“We both know I don’t need a gun to kill you,” Sawyer said quietly.
“Which is precisely why I am not going to give up my gun,” she said. “I’m not stupid. Come toward me, and Fiona is dead.”
“Why do you insist on holding Fiona? She’s nothing to me.”
“You are so bad at lying when it comes to her!” she laughed. “We’ve known for a long time that you were in denial about your feelings for Fiona. Which meant you wouldn’t have your head in the game when it came to her.” Erica reached over and squeezed my thigh. I cringed. “It was perfect.”
“What do you want, Erica?” he asked, his tone haunting.
“The Feldman Farm, of course,” she lifted her shoulders, “Though I will rename it. Hatchcom Focus would be the obvious choice, but that was my husband’s operation, and Lander’s pet project before that. And your sweet family took care of both of them, so…” She relaxed her shoulders. “I’ll have to come up with something that’s completely me.”
“Hatchcom Focus killed our men,” Sawyer said.
What were they talking about?
“You stole and killed our men, snaked our contracts, and killed my husband.” She angled her head at me. “I ought to kill her. We wouldn’t be even, but we would certainly be more balanced.”
“I can’t give you the Feldman Farm,” he said.
“Then I can’t promise that your little girlfriend will live.”
I moved my lips to whisper his name, but I couldn’t make myself say the word. Was she bluffing? Or would she kill me?
She had already drugged me twice. What wouldn’t she do?
Sawyer raised his head. “Take me instead.”
“What?” Erica asked, a hand on her chest.
“Take me in her place,” he repeated. “Tie me up. Let her go. Call her a rideshare. I don’t care. But let Fiona go, and you can kill me instead.”
She rubbed her hands together, shifting her body weight as she lined up with the gun.
“That is interesting,” she said. “But I don’t want you. I want your business.” Sawyer didn’t say anything. He could die for me, but he would never give up his family’s legacy. And that hurt. “That’s it, then?” Erica continued. “You’ll die for her, but you won’t give up the farm?”
“With me under your control, you could negotiate with my brother. You might be able to sway him.”
Erica laughed. “I’m not that stupid, Sawyer. Your brother is just as headstrong as you are. Though—” she tilted her head, “—that could be fun. Using one Feldman to incite another.” She put her hand on the gun, her gaze landing on me. “I want the Feldman Farm, and I’m not going to say it again.”
Sawyer’s blue-gray eyes were empty, like a dusky sky. “Call a rideshare for her. Then we’ll talk.”
“Agree to it, or I kill her now.”
She aimed the gun at me. I held my breath.
“It’s yours,” he said.
A wide smile spread across Erica’s face. She put the gun on the table and typed on her phone.
“Go wait out front,” she said to me. Then she turned to Sawyer. “Hands behind your back.” She pulled handcuffs out from her purse. “I apologize; I’d dose you too, but I’m afraid I’ve run out.”
He stared at me as I tried to push myself up.
“Hands,” Erica demanded. Finally, Sawyer put himself in the correct position while Erica handcuffed his hands behind his back. She twisted over her shoulder toward me. “Do you need help walking or something?”
It was so obvious now. Erica had been putting on an act all along too. Pretending to be my friend so she could get close to Sawyer. So she could kill him.
I steadied myself, standing up straight.
Was this my fault?
Erica faced Sawyer, her back to me. “It’s sad how you’ve watched her from afar all of these years. Like some kind of lone guardian angel.”
All of these years?
“She’s not a part of this,” he warned.
Then it clicked for me. The dice. Taking me home.
I had blacked out that first night that we met, but the memories became clear.
It had always been Sawyer.
Erica twisted Sawyer, making him face the hallway so he could watch me leave. She pointed with her gun toward the front door.
“It’s that way,” she said.
I walked down the hallway, holding myself against the wall. Everyone lied. Everyone manipulated others. Even me. I had lied to my parents about dropping out of medical school, and I hadn’t even told Maisie about what was going on with Sawyer. Sawyer hadn’t lied, but he hadn’t exactly told me the truth either.
What difference did it make?
I wanted to trust him. And I wanted to believe him. He had been watching over me after all of this time.
He was the man from the bar years ago.
The person who had played me in a game, just to make me fall.
And he had given up his family’s legacy to set me free.
Why give it all up now?
Did he really love me?
Erica took brass knuckles to his skull, blood crossing her body in slow motion. Sawyer’s eye swelled shut. His face puffy and red. One open eye on me. His mouth moved, telling me to go.
The gun laid behind her, next to other weapons .
I pushed myself back to them. Holding myself up. I had to get there. Had to do something. Had to be quiet.
I leaned on the table, then grabbed the gun, holding it up.
Sawyer was a violent man, but I knew that now. And I knew, deep down, that he truly loved me.
I wasn’t supposed to kill. Nothing in this world made killing okay.
But I owed him this.
I shot the gun, the bullet hitting her in the shoulder. She jolted, then stared down at the wound. I pulled the hammer back and shot again, completely missing her, but the third bullet got the back of her head. She fell into Sawyer. He stood up, letting her body fall to the ground. His eyes rushed to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I fell to my knees, the surging pain of tears clogging my chest, but they wouldn’t fall. I wanted the release. But nothing came.
“It’s okay,” Sawyer whispered. He kneeled by my side. “Nothing is going to hurt you now. I won’t let it.”
I snuggled into him, and he flinched—I must have touched one of his bruises or cuts.
“I won’t let anything hurt you,” he kept saying. Did he say that to comfort me, or to comfort himself? Did it scare him to know that she had drugged and beat me like that?
He did love me.
I shuffled as best as I could without bumping into him, then looked into his eyes. “What do we do now?”
“She put the keys in her pocket,” he said.
His handcuffs!
My face twisted, thinking about touching her dead body, but I held my breath and checked her pockets. She was still warm and heavy. I found the key, then stumbled back, trying hard to keep steady. Finally, I got his handcuffs unlocked, letting them drop to the floor.
He pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.
“You need a doctor,” I murmured.
“It’s okay,” he said into my hair. “You did so good, Fiona. You’re safe.”
I closed my eyes, sucking in his scent. With his arms around me, he seemed relieved. Like I was all he needed. And I was safe.
Finally, the tears came.