Chapter 53
I can’t leave him.
While the masked man next to me is occupied with getting Tegan’s wrists tied, I rush over to Sterling, where I’m stopped abruptly. The muscles in my neck pull tight as the guy next to Sterling grabs me by the hair, and I fight off a scream. My heart is pounding.
There’s a scuffle to my right, shoes in my peripheral vision, and then a loud crack!
The grip in my hair is gone. The man responsible stumbles back a step, holding his bloody nose in his hands.
Sterling stands between us, his hands tied, his knuckles bloody.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you for that,” the man says and slams his fist into Sterling’s jaw.
“The fuck are you doing?” T appears, his voice unnervingly quiet as he pulls the other man back and gets in his face. “We’re not here for that. We’re here for the gold, and you’re wasting time.”
“He fucking hit me.”
“He’s nobody. Now, put them in the back and get where you need to be. We don’t have time for your ego.”
Flashing lights flood the room from outside.
The room freezes.
Then … chaos.
“Fuck.”
“They’re not supposed to be here yet. What the fuck?”
“Boss?”
The masked men all look toward T, who is unnervingly still.
There’s shouting outside.
“How the fuck did the cops get here so fast?”
The only one who doesn’t seem worried is T.
He speaks low. “The silent alarm must have been triggered. It doesn’t matter. We planned for this. B, you stay up here. Make sure they don’t get in.”
The Hulk grabs Sterling and grits out, “Yes, sir.”
“Stick to the plan,” T says to the others, who are standing by.
The rest of the floor is empty.
Tegan is gone.
T grabs the manager and keeps walking. “Let’s go.”
The rest of the men fall in line, leaving Sterling and me with the Hulk and his jittery friend to watch as they all step into the elevator with the manager. Off to the vault they go.
“Take care of it,” T says before the doors close.
Jitterbug grumbles. “Fuck it. Put them with the older guy T cleared out. We need to get downstairs.”
The guy Sterling punched spits blood onto the floor, forgetting that’ll be evidence or just not caring. “Fuck! Fine.”
We’re dragged to the corridor. There are scuff marks in the carpet and spots of blood that turn my stomach. The walls are lined with financial ads and praise, and the banality only makes this whole situation worse.
I’m readying my feet, turning to the left, where they took everyone else.
We’re pulled to the right.
Oh God.
The door opens, and it’s a relief to see the man from earlier alive. He straightens, surprised as we’re shoved inside. Sterling hits the ground first and catches me. The door slams behind us, and we’re left alone.
I slide down the wall to sit, my shoulder bumping Sterling’s. The other man sits opposite, curious.
“I’m Mia.”
“Hal,” he grunts, his gaze shifting between us. Anxious.
“They hurt you,” I say, keeping my voice gentle.
“It’s fine,” Hal says. His hair is gray at the temples, shaved close to the scalp. Late forties, if I had to guess. “It’ll be over soon,” he murmurs, eyes on the door. “The cops are already outside.”
He’s right, of course; we’ve all heard the shouting from the street. It should be a comfort, but I can’t help feeling like prey caught between predators.
Nothing happens for a while. Is it strange that they left us here alone? Probably not. We’re zip-tied, and they’re armed. We hardly pose a threat.
The office we’ve been stuffed in has no windows, and no doubt any attempt we make to open the door will be noticed.
Two desks flank the room, topped with chunky computers and a matching set of stationery. The monitor on the left is blinking, a thumb drive nestled among a swarm of cables, abandoned when the alarm sounded. The name plate on the desk says this is Tracy’s desk. I hope she’s okay out there.
“Brutes,” Sterling calls them, and I see Hal’s lip curl before he’s covering it under a shaky hand.
“Maybe they’re a little rough about it, but can you really blame them for wanting a piece back of what’s been taken from them?”
“And what’s that?” Sterling asks, ever the investigator.
He’s started pulling at the laces on one shoe, but I’m not sure why. Maybe they came undone while we were being dragged in here.
“Dignity. Pride.” Hal pauses, and it isn’t until his shoulders sag that I realize how tall he looked before. Curled over his knees again, he looks small and timid. It seems so much more like an act now.
I need to start paying more attention.
“What sort of work do you do, Hal?”
His eyes flash, and I watch as his index finger taps a rhythm on his thigh. I guess the shock hasn’t worn off yet.
“Construction.”
Tap, tap, tap.
I perk up. “Oh? Houses or commercial? My pa did his apprenticeship with New Build before he came home and started his own business.”
The gift of personal information works as I wanted it to, smoothing a little of the tension in his jaw.
“Oh, yeah? I got a bunch of guys who started there, too, before they all got pushed out because of budget cuts.” His words are laced with bitterness.
I gentle my voice. “It’s a good thing they have you looking out for them now.”
The tension is back.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Yeah, they do, and I’m gonna make sure they can take care of their families because I’m not a heartless corporate fuck.”
Beside me, Sterling stills. He drops his shoelace and looks over at Hal, his body tight, like a violin string. Poised for action.
“Being a boss takes a lot of responsibility,” Hal says. His knuckles are dark with dried blood.
The tapping stops.
“You got a family?”
The weight of Sterling’s, “No,” hits me in the chest, the delivery thick with meaning.
“Well, my crew is family, and that means making sacrifices.” Said with the conviction of a man who isn’t planning something, but executing it.
I need to move. Sterling is stuck in place, eyes locked on Hal while Hal stares back. I leave them to their odd little standoff, twisting my wrists inside the zip tie. It doesn’t budge.
I sigh. What would I even do if I got my hands free? I can’t fight. But I can’t sit here and do nothing.
At least if I could reach the computer, I could—
That’s it!
Both men jump as I shuffle forward on my knees. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.
“What are you doing?” Hal asks, his voice tight.
“Mia?” Even Sterling sounds concerned.
They should both be thanking me.
It takes longer than I’d like to get to the desk, but I pull open the second drawer, happiness exploding in my chest as I look down at a pair of scissors, exactly where I expected them.
I take care of Hal’s ties first, nodding when he offers a quiet, “Thank you.”
Sterling is silent as I snip his bindings off, the plastic falling to the floor between us. He pockets it before taking the scissors from me and cutting mine off.
“Smart move,” he says, his voice warm against my skin. He places the scissors on the floor beside him.
“Thanks.”
Have I ever noticed how long his lashes were before?
There’s no first aid kit in the room, so I make do with tissues and water.
“I don’t mind a few extra scars.”
Extra? How often is he throwing himself in the way of danger? And why isn’t anyone protecting him?
“Well, I do,” I huff. I start with his hand, eager to avoid the endless blue that I can feel staring at me.
“Phone’s dead,” Hal says, dejected.
I didn’t even notice him move over to the desk.
“And the computer’s locked. There’s no way to call for help.”
Great.
“Shouldn’t the cops be inside by now?” I ask Sterling.
His jaw tics like he’s been chewing on the same thought. “Maybe, but with this many hostages, they’d be reluctant to trigger any retaliation.”
There’s something in his tone, like he only half believes what he’s saying. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s keeping it to himself.
Hal settles back on the floor across from us, elbows on his knees.
“You’re incredible,” Sterling says, his voice soft.
I feel Sterling’s eyes on me like a caress. Heat radiates outward through my skin like a burn.
“What?” He can’t be serious. “You’re delirious, clearly.” I hold up my hand. “How many fingers can you see?”
I think my heart straight-up falls over when he smiles. It’s so unlike him.
It’s gorgeous.
“I’m serious. How did you know where to look?”
I shrug. “I guessed.”
“No, you didn’t. You picked that desk and that drawer. How did you know?”
My pulse flutters in my throat. I’m still recovering from hearing him say I’m incredible. Maybe I’m the delirious one. What if this is all a really bad dream?
“Everything on the desk is organized into its own position. Neat and sensible. It makes sense that someone who keeps a desk like that would be prepared for anything.”
“Exactly,” he says. He’s still smiling. “Incredible.”
“I’m sure you thought of it,” I deflect. The tissue is starting to dissolve in my hand, but I can’t look at his face yet, so I keep dabbing the clean skin around his knuckles to hold off the inevitable.
“I didn’t actually, but I was working on my own way out.”
Of course he was.
“When we get out of here …” he says.
When … not if. A weight lifts off my lungs. If Sterling says it, it must be true.
“I’m going to tell Monica to take you off Lifestyle and give you some real assignments.”
Don’t make promises you can’t keep, I want to say.
He reaches to scratch his cheek, and I gently slap his hand away. His gaze finally catches mine, and it’s just as intense as I expected.
Soaking more tissues, I start on his face. “You can’t just let someone help you, can you?”
He’s quiet. “It’s been a long time since someone wanted to. The last time didn’t end so well.”
“For you or for them?”
“Both of us, but it was my fault. I …” He swallows. “I chased my dreams instead of him.”
“Well, you’ve got one up on me,” I say. “I chased my dreams, and it was my ex who ran away from me.”
“What an idiot.”
I smile. “You studied in the UK, didn’t you?”
He nods. “Manchester, where my great-uncle lives. After the accident, I wanted to disappear. Get as far away from reality as I could, and it seemed like a good idea at sixteen.” His hand lies in a fist on his knee, fingers digging into his palm.
I can’t even imagine. If I lost my parents …
My heart aches for him. “Was it?”
“Best decision I ever made. Followed by one of the worst.”
“Is that why you moved home?”
“Partly. Grief is a funny thing, honestly. Once the anger passed, I hated the thought of being so far from them, and I saw how much good I could do here.” Every word slips heavy from his lips, two decades of pain stitched into the syllables.
“You must have had every paper in the city chasing you.”
“I did,” he says. “I almost went to work at The Herald. I’m extremely glad I didn’t now. That was the second-best decision I ever made.”
“The Herald is a great paper.”
“The editor is a friend of mine, but there’s one thing The Observer has that they don’t.”
The trail of his fingers along my wrist shoots electricity through my veins, down my spine.
“What’s that?”
He says nothing for a breath, leaving me to deal with the aftershocks of his touch. I want him to do it again. I want him to never stop.
“Terrible coffee,” he whispers, and the secret curl of his smile doubles down on the wave I’m experiencing.
Sterling reaches up slowly enough that I know it’s coming, but I don’t move. He curls his fingers around mine, and all I’m aware of is how close we are, each breath he takes, how much I want to kiss him.
Water trickles down my wrist from where I’m squeezing the tissue too tight.
I pull away. It’s just the situation playing with my head.
“It must be lonely,” I say, dropping my hand into my lap. Two of my nails have gotten chipped since we arrived. “Only relying on yourself.”
“I’m not good at letting people in,” he confesses in the space between us. Dropped quiet, like snow. “But I want to get better at it.”
He covers my clasped hands with his. “Maybe you could help me.”
I stare down at where our hands are combined. His strong palms encompass my own.
* * *
When Sterling crosses to the door, my heart jumps into my throat.
“Where are you going?”
“All those guys are downstairs; I’m going to get to the other hostages and get us out before they come back.”
Of course he wants to do that. I’ve already witnessed him risk his life twice today. If this is the way he runs his investigations, I’m starting to understand why he kept telling me I wasn’t suited for it.
It’s honorable in a way I already know him to be, but I’m selfish; I don’t want anything to happen to him. Sterling doesn’t seem as bothered by that idea.
“Maybe you should both go,” Hal says, and I whip my head over to him. “I would join you, but that guy has it out for me. I think it’s best if I stay here, wait it out.”
Something doesn’t feel right.
I turn back to Sterling. “What if they aren’t all gone?”
He places his hands on my shoulders. The heat of him is a relief. “I’ll be okay. I need you to stay here. It’s safer.”
“Makes sense for you to leave then.” I’m being snarky, but I don’t care. I’m not the one choosing to put myself in danger.
What if the cops rush in and think he’s one of the bad guys? They don’t have a reputation for calm conflict resolution.
Or forethought.
“Promise me, Mia, you’ll stay here.”
“Promise me you won’t get yourself killed. I …” I swallow. “I can’t finish the story without you.”
The sound of my pulse is loud in my ears. Sterling’s lips part, but his gaze darts to Hal, and whatever he’s about to say is cast aside.
I can’t shake the feeling I shouldn’t let him go. He said it himself; it’s safer here. Why can’t he just stay and wait?
* * *
Make Your Choice:
let Sterling leave (go to 65)
convince him to stay (go to 67)
go back (go to 33)