Chapter 7 #2
She glares at me when I hand it to her.
Moving across the room, she sets the box down on top of a nightstand, its varnish chipped and worn. Removing the lid, she takes a stack of dusty cash and a bone-handled revolver. After tucking the money into the pocket of her sweats and the gun into her jacket pocket, she abandons the box.
“I can’t believe that’s still there,” I say honestly.
“Even dead, no one wanted anything from him,” she says, tone sharp as razor blades.
“People could sense the darkness in this place without ever setting foot in it. Even door-to-door salesmen weren’t that desperate.
” Without another word, she moves out of the room, favoring her leg so much that she takes a pause in the hallway and lets out a deep breath.
“Let me help you.”
Tessa stiffens, likely because she didn’t realize I was standing so close—but I can’t help it. Like the moon controls the tide, the hold Tessa still has on me seems unbreakable. It’s always been that way. My instant connection to her has never made sense, but it’s also the only thing that does.
Light fills the room as lightning strikes just outside. The thunder comes less than a second later, and it’s so loud it shakes the trailer. Still, I can hear my own heart thundering above anything else.
Tessa’s gaze never strays from mine. She pins me with an intensity that steals my breath. Desperate to pull her into my arms, I clench both hands into fists at my sides and try to remind myself that this woman left me at the altar.
She abandoned our future before we even had a chance at one.
The rain starts, its deafening drumming against the sides of the metal trailer drowning out even the sound of my own breathing.
But Tessa’s gaze remains—so does mine.
“I don’t need help,” she replies, yelling so I can hear her over the storm.
The trailer shakes with the force of the wind as it picks up outside.
“No, you never did, right? Isn’t that what you said back at the hospital?”
She opens her mouth to respond, her cheeks flushing with color. But a second later, that fight dies, and her expression turns defeated. “I need to leave.” She continues forward, dodging the hole, so I do the same, moving in her wake.
“Do you really think they’re just going to leave you alone?” I demand. “Whoever this is will find you, Tessa. You’re not safe.”
“Do you really think I don’t know that?” she demands, whirling back on me. We’re in the living room now, and the only light sneaks in through broken windows. Rain falls in sheets just outside, the wind blowing it in and saturating my shirt.
“Tessa—”
“No.” She points her finger at me. “I’m sorry I got on your boat, but I didn’t ask for your help. I answered your questions, and now I need to go. I need distance from this place. From—” Her gaze lands on me, and she doesn’t have to finish the sentence.
“From me.”
Tessa’s gaze darts away before resting back on me. “Yes.”
I move in closer. “And why is that? Because the idea of being near me is so appalling to you?” Anger laces my tone. How could she say that? Why does she hate me so much?
“Being near you—” Glass shatters, and I throw Tessa to the floor before my mind has even registered the bullets raining down on us. She screams as I cover her with my body and withdraw the pistol holstered at my waist.
Thanks to the storm, I can’t even hear the weapon being fired, but with how quickly they’re coming—I know it’s got to be an automatic with extended magazines for minimal load time.
Adrenaline coursing through my system, I shut down my fear for Tessa and focus only on the mission. We need an exit. Now. I scan the dark trailer, searching for any way out, but see none. And as thin as these walls are? We’re as good as dead if these bullets keep putting fresh holes into them.
My gaze lands on the hole in the floor.
I start moving, dragging Tessa with me as I go.
I keep my body positioned over hers. Pain slices across the side of my face, but I keep moving, my hammering heart stealing focus from everything else.
Warmth trickles down my cheek, but I ignore it as I push through the pain, my only focus on getting Tessa out of here.
I have to save her.
Tessa keeps crawling until we reach the hole. She slips down inside with ease, rolling to the dirt beneath the trailer.
I follow, then rip my cell phone free.
I’ve lost count of how many shots have been peppered into the trailer, but I’m honestly surprised it’s still standing. Another booming round of thunder covers the gunshots.
Me: Under fire. Tessa’s dad’s place. Bring backup.
Shoving it back into my pocket, I look over at Tessa. It’s pitch black down here, but I feel for Tessa’s hand and grip it, squeezing gently in hopes of offering her some sort of hope.
Lord, we need You. Please be with us.
The ground is already muddy, thanks to the water rolling down beneath the trailer from the hill just beyond it. We crawl our way through, and I try to lead us as far back as we can go before turning on my side and facing the hole. I keep my weapon aimed at the beam of light that’s barely visible.
And I wait.
The rain slows, and the bullets stop.
Once again, I scan for an exit. We have to run. The second they come in and realize we’re not dead, they’ll find the hole in the floor, and then we will be. The trouble is, with the rain and Tessa’s injury, we won’t make it far. Not in time.
Keeping my weapon trained straight ahead, I ignore the buzzing in my pocket from what is probably Ryker’s response. The storm rages just beyond the trailer. Loud enough that I can’t hear whether or not anyone is even walking above us.
Lord, please. Please be with us. I repeat the prayer over and over again, focusing on His promise that, no matter what happens in this life, an eternity of peace awaits afterward. He has a plan—of that I have no doubt. I just hope it’s us surviving.
With the adrenaline continuing to wreak havoc on my system, I remain where I am, breathing steadily while I wait to pull the trigger. Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do if I see anyone pop down that hole.
It’s them or us.
And I won’t let them get Tessa.
The storm picks up again, and lightning flashes just beyond the lattice surrounding the bottom of the trailer. It’s everything I can do to maintain my breathing as I fight the urge to risk the precious moments it would take to check my phone and make sure it was Ryker messaging me back.
What if he didn’t get the message?