17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Dion
"I didn't know," Vivienne protested. "I swear, I just did what you told me to do. Please let my husband go."
"Mother, for god’s sake just shut up," Emily's voice came next, steady despite the circumstances.
I motioned to Gideon, indicating my plan. He nodded once, moving to position himself at the other entrance I could see through the broken wall.
"Your boyfriend and his team are already here," Rice said, his voice amused. "Predictable. Military men always think alike."
"He's not my boyfriend," Emily replied, and something in her tone made my chest tighten. It was true. She hadn’t trusted me, and it had gotten her a gun to her head. Some Daddy I was.
"No? Well, he'll die trying to save you all the same." Rice laughed, the sound echoing through the empty space. "Mr. Blackwood! I know you can hear me. Why don't you join us?"
I met Gideon's eyes across the room. This wasn't how the extraction was supposed to go.
"I'm going to count to three," Rice continued. "Then I put a bullet in Vivienne's head. One..."
"Wait!" Emily cried.
"Two..."
I stepped into the doorway, weapon raised. "Let them go, Rice. This is between you and me."
The room was larger than I'd expected, with broken windows along one wall letting in the fading afternoon light. Rice stood in the center, one arm around Vivienne's throat, a gun pressed to her temple. Emily was on her knees nearby, hands zip-tied behind her back. Two armed men flanked her.
Rice smiled, his expression coldly triumphant. "The hero arrives. Right on schedule."
"Let them go," I repeated. "You want me? Here I am."
"Dion, don't—" Emily began, but one of the guards struck her across the face, silencing her.
Something dark and primal roared to life inside me. "Touch her again and you die first," I promised, my voice deadly calm.
Rice's smile widened. "Such passion. But you're not in a position to make threats, Mr. Blackwood. Put down your weapon and kick it away."
I hesitated, calculating angles, distances, probabilities. Even at my best, I couldn't take out all three men before one of them shot Emily or Vivienne.
"Now," Rice demanded, pressing the gun harder against Vivienne's head, making her whimper.
Slowly, I lowered my weapon, placing it on the floor and kicking it toward one of the guards. "Now let them go."
Rice laughed. "I don't think so. You and your wannabe soldiers have been a thorn in my side for too long. Investigating things that don't concern you."
"Children being trafficked concerns everyone," I countered, watching for any opening, any distraction.
"Business is business," Rice shrugged. "And you're bad for business."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emily shifting subtly, maneuvering herself into a better position. Despite her bound hands, she was preparing to move. Our eyes met briefly, and I saw not fear, but determination. My Emily wasn't giving up without a fight.
"Where's the rest of your team?" Rice demanded, his eyes darting around the room. "I know they're here."
"It's just me," I lied smoothly. "I came alone."
Rice's expression hardened with suspicion. "You expect me to believe that? The great Dion Blackwood, rushing in without backup?"
"For her?" I looked directly at Emily. "Yes."
Something flickered in Emily's eyes—recognition, understanding, perhaps even forgiveness. Whatever our argument had been, whatever had driven her to leave, none of it mattered now.
"How touching," Rice sneered. "The Marine and the social worker. Star-crossed lovers."
Vivienne made a choked sound, her eyes wide with terror as Rice tightened his grip around her throat.
"Here's what's going to happen," Rice continued. "You're going to tell me exactly what information Ms. Carter has gathered about my operation, and where those files are kept. Then maybe—just maybe—I'll consider letting one of them live."
"Don't tell him anything, Dion," Emily said, her voice steady despite the trickle of blood from her split lip.
The guard beside her raised his hand to strike her again, but I stepped forward. "Touch her and the deal's off."
Rice signaled the guard to stop. "Smart man. So, the files?"
I needed to stall, to give Gideon time to get into position. "They're encrypted. Stored on a secure server. Even if I wanted to give them to you, I couldn't access them from here."
"Then call your tech guy," Rice demanded. "Have him send everything to my phone."
"That would take time," I said, taking another careful step forward. "Time I don't think Vivienne has. She doesn't look well."
Indeed, Vivienne's face had gone ashen, her breathing shallow and rapid. Whether from genuine fear or an act to help us, I couldn't tell.
Rice glanced down at her, momentarily distracted. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Emily moved with a speed that surprised even me. She threw herself backward, knocking into the legs of the guard behind her. As he stumbled, I lunged forward, tackling the second guard just as Gideon burst through the opposite door, weapon raised.
"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" he shouted, adding to the confusion.
Rice swore, shoving Vivienne aside and raising his gun toward me. I rolled, narrowly avoiding the first shot, then surged to my feet as he fired again. The bullet grazed my arm, a line of fire that I barely registered in the chaos.
Gideon had taken down one guard, while the other scrambled for his fallen weapon. Emily, still bound, had managed to kick it away.
Rice backed toward the window, using Vivienne as a shield.
"Let her go!" I shouted, advancing on Rice despite the gun still trained on me.
"Stay back!" Rice snarled, dragging Vivienne with him. Her eyes were wide with terror, tears streaming down her face. "I'll kill her, I swear to God!"
"You're not walking out of here," I said, my voice deadly calm despite the blood dripping down my arm. "It's over, Rice."
His eyes darted frantically between me, Gideon, and the exits—a cornered animal calculating his chances. "Maybe for me," he hissed. "But I won't go alone."
Everything happened in a blur of motion. Rice shoved Vivienne forward with brutal force, sending her crashing into me as he swung his weapon toward Emily. I heard myself roar—a primal sound that ripped from my throat as I lunged past Vivienne.
Three shots rang out in rapid succession.
I felt the first bullet tear through my shoulder, the impact spinning me sideways. The second missed as I continued my forward momentum, tackling Rice with every ounce of strength I possessed. We crashed through the rotted window frame together, glass shattering around us as we fell.
The third shot came from Gideon, catching Rice in the chest mid-fall.
For one suspended moment, we hung in the air—Rice's eyes wide with shock, my hands locked around his throat. Then gravity reclaimed us. I twisted, using Rice's body to break my fall as we slammed onto the metal awning one floor below.
The impact drove the air from my lungs. Pain exploded through my wounded shoulder, my vision narrowing to a dark tunnel. Rice lay motionless beneath me, blood spreading across his expensive shirt, eyes fixed and empty.
"Dion!" Emily's voice came from above, desperate and terrified. "Dion!"
I tried to answer but couldn't find the breath. The world tilted sideways as I rolled off Rice's body, the rusty metal of the awning creaking ominously beneath me.
"Hold on!" Gideon shouted. "We're coming down!"
I pressed my hand against my shoulder, feeling warm blood seep between my fingers. Not fatal, I assessed automatically. Through and through. But the pain was building, a white-hot tide threatening to pull me under.
Footsteps pounded on metal as Gideon reached me, kneeling to assess my wounds. "You lucky son of a bitch," he muttered, pressing a wadded cloth against my shoulder. "Two inches to the right and we'd be having a very different conversation."
"Emily?" I asked, trying to sit up despite Gideon's restraining hand.
"She’s fine. Worried frantic about you.”
I looked at Gideon, feeling the crushing weight of my failure. "Get me out of here," I said quietly.
"What?" Gideon frowned, still applying pressure to my wound. "Dion, you need medical attention, but Emily's—"
"I said get me out of here," I repeated, my voice harder now. "Away from her."
Gideon's expression shifted to one of confusion and concern. "What the hell are you talking about? She's worried sick about you."
I closed my eyes, the pain in my shoulder nothing compared to the ache in my chest. "I failed her, Gideon. She's here because I couldn't give her what she needed. Because I treated her like a child instead of a partner."
"That's not—"
"She told me she didn't want to be coddled," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "She was right. I'm not what she needs. I'm what I am—a controlling bastard who thinks he knows better than everyone else."
Above us, I could hear Emily's voice, frantic as she called my name. The sound cut through me like a blade.
"Dion, look at me," Gideon commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "You just took two bullets to save her life. How is that failing her?"
"Because she wouldn't have been here if I hadn't driven her away," I said, finally meeting his eyes. "She left because I couldn't be what she needed. And now she's traumatized, her mother's involved in trafficking, and she's probably never going to feel safe again."
"So, your solution is to abandon her?" Gideon's voice was incredulous. "When she needs you most?"
I turned my head away, unable to face the judgment in his eyes. "She needs someone who can love her without trying to control her. Someone who can give her the freedom she deserves."
"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard," Gideon snapped. "And I've heard a lot of bullshit in my time."
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. EMTs would be here soon, and then Emily would want to talk to me, to thank me, to pretend like what we had could work.