Chapter Sixteen #2
The production lights flooded the windshield, turning everything blinding white. For a second, she couldn’t make out anything beyond the glare—but soon shapes formed and she picked up movement.
Then a familiar black frame stepped out of the shadows like he’d been carved from them.
Relief slammed her so hard that her mind spun.
Through the windshield, she locked gazes with Church, willing him to read everything she couldn’t say through the tape slapped across her mouth.
Help me!
Lucian didn’t slow, but she felt a shift in him, the way his body tightened as he went on alert.
Her window of opportunity was closing. She had seconds to make this work.
Come on. Take the bait.
The truck lurched as Lucian stomped the brakes hard.
Her mind tilted as fear gripped her tight. Lucian turned his head, scanning the white haze. He threw open the door and cold air blasted in.
Lucian slipped out of the truck in a controlled movement. Then he was reaching back in for her.
Pain exploded through her arms as he yanked her out by her bound wrists, dragging her across the hard console and the driver’s seat. Her boots hit the ground wrong and her knees buckled for half a heartbeat before she righted herself.
She refused to cry out even though it hurt like hell.
Lucian hauled her tight against him, his grip on her arm bruising. When he angled his body so she stayed between him and the set, she realized he was using her as a shield.
Fucking coward.
He gripped the end of the tape over her mouth and glared at her. “Scream and I’ll silence you. Got it?”
She gave a forceful nod. Pain stabbed through her as he tore off the tape, and probably some of her skin too.
“Where’s the card?” he growled.
“By those two towers. I was sitting near them…my bag’s there.” She raked her gaze through the shadows. Church was out there somewhere in the glare and blackness.
Lucian dragged her forward, and she stumbled. When he levered her by the arm, a scream seared in her throat, and she silenced it just in time.
They needed to get a little closer, give Church time to see them.
Suddenly, a dark shape stepped out of the shadows. Church held up the black card.
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
Lucian whipped around to face Church. As he did, he shoved Zee. She rolled so her shoulder hit first, and pain blasted through her arm. She turned onto her side and drove her body forward before Lucian could grab her.
Gravel tore into her skin as she dragged herself across the dirt, wrists straining against the hard plastic bonds. She dug her elbows in and pushed hard enough with her legs to scrape her knees.
She was back to that time warp again. Only this time she wasn’t measuring it by breaths. It was in inches that she wiggled across the ground.
Every inch felt like it took double the time, and her heart urged her to look over her shoulder, to check that Church was safe.
His voice shook with rage, but she stopped hearing the words as the pyrotechnics rig loomed closer, a tangle of wires and hope. A trigger box sat just inches away.
Luke had told her the actor would fall backward during a fight scene and step on the trigger switch, which would set off the explosions.
She had one chance.
She braced her forearms on the ground and pushed upward to her knees. Her body pitched and she battled for equilibrium. But she forced herself up again, dragging one foot under her, then the other, pushing up until she stood on shaking legs.
She lifted her boot and slammed it down on the trigger.
The first explosion cracked through the air like the sky split open.
The ground trembled beneath her as a blast of heat and sound echoed, followed by two more as the charges fired in rapid sequence.
Exactly the way the Luke had described to her.
Fire punched upward in columns that felt anything but controlled and shockwaves rattled her bones.
The noise was deafening, the light blinding.
People came running from every direction, all shouting over each other. The entire set devolved into chaos.
Zee staggered as another explosion went off. The force of it knocked her sideways, and she sucked in a lungful of smoke.
Choking, she coughed explosively, vision swimming as she fought to see through the haze.
Church. Where was Church?
Someone grabbed her, and she twisted to see Luke holding her upright as she coughed and her eyes streamed.
She twisted again and saw Church.
He had Lucian on the ground.
Lucian was pinned into the dirt, Church’s knee lodged between his shoulders. He had Lucian’s arm wrenched back at an angle he couldn’t escape.
She tore away from Luke and ran over. When she came to a stop feet away, her entire body shook with the adrenaline crashing through her system. Smoke fogged the air and the shouts of the crew faded to the background.
All she could see was the man she loved—alive, unhurt and in control.
His cold tone cut through everything else. “Congrats, Lucian. Not many people get to survive long enough to be tried for treason.”
Lucian’s face was smashed into the gravel, but she saw his lips pull across his teeth as the word hit him. Treason.
He let out a broken laugh with no humor at all. “Kill me now.”
Church’s fingers twitched on is weapon. For a moment, time slowed, measured by the steady thud of her heart.
“You don’t get an easy end,” Church gritted out.
He wouldn’t let Lucian die before answering for what he’d done. He would live and answer for it.
Boots thundered in from all sides as the security crew closed in fast.
“On me,” Church barked without looking away from Lucian.
Two of the security guys rushed in, one taking Lucian’s shoulders and the other, his legs. Another moved in with restraints in hand.
Lucian began to fight, but it was useless because Church kept him pinned flat. “Don’t move, you son of a bitch,” he growled.
The security team cinched zip ties around Lucian’s wrists and ankles. Church hauled him up to his knees and forced his head back.
Lucian spit at him, and Church cocked his fist, driving it into his mouth with a blow that rocked his head.
Zee sucked in a shaky breath as she saw his ruined mouth, streaked with blood. His eyes were wild with the realization it was all over.
“Secure transport,” Church ordered one of the men, rising to his feet in one smooth motion. “Full watch. He doesn’t move without two on him at all times.”
“Yes, sir.”
Church didn’t walk away. He stood there for a moment, shoulders tense. Then as if he’d mastered control of himself, he stepped up close to Lucian so the man had to meet his eyes.
“This is for Matt. And for Zee.”
Lucian’s lip curled, but he had nothing left to do and no power to act.
They dragged Lucian away. Only when he was ten yards out…twenty…only then did Church turn to her.
He moved forward in quick strides. Smoke drifted across the set, and the air reeked of burned powder. People shouted and hurried around them, but none of that was her world.
He hit his knees in front of her.
“Christ, Zee.” He whipped out a knife and cut her bonds first, then he hauled her into his arms.
“Easy, love. Easy. I’ve got you.”
She closed her eyes and thanked God that it was over, that Lucian got what was coming to him all this time.
And so grateful that she had Church.
He carried her a few feet away from the chaos and set her on the edge of a big equipment case. She wobbled, but he held her shoulders until she was steadier.
A set medic was already moving toward them, bag in hand.
“I’m fine,” Zee said.
Church gave her a dark look as the residue of his fury began to fade from his eyes. “Let him be the judge of that.”
The medic crouched in front of her and began to check her over. She had cuts along her hands and knees and gravel embedded in her forearm. She hissed when the antiseptic hit her ragged flesh, and Church was there the whole time, holding on to her.
His presence was solid, his thigh braced against hers as he watched the medic work on her.
“She’s got some deeper abrasions here,” the medic said. “Nothing that needs stitches, but it’s going to hurt as it heals.”
Church sank beside her and pulled her into his lap. “Clean it out,” he grated.
Zee started to look at what he was doing, but Church cupped her head and pressed her cheek gently down on his chest. She sucked in deep breaths filled with his masculine scent and felt better.
“I’m okay,” she whispered against him and felt him shudder.
The medic finished bandaging her hands, then stood. “Keep these clean. Change the dressings tomorrow. See a doctor if anything hurts more or you start running a fever.”
“Thank you.” She watched the medic walk away, leaving her and Church alone in the moment.
He searched her eyes, his own stormy. “I should’ve gone with you.”
She shook her head. “I needed to do it alone. Scatter Matt’s ashes. It’s done and…it’s done,” she finished, meaning everything that came after.
His gaze burned. “I won’t ever let anything hurt you again.”
She nodded. “I know.”
She believed it too. Not because he said it.
Because of who he was.