Chapter Nineteen #2
That thought was extinguished when there was a roar of rage from behind, so primal it could’ve come from a wild animal. Then pounding footsteps echoed down the hallway. M?rten thrust her outside onto the damp grass.
“Run,” he screamed.
Summer collapsed to the ground. The shock of the fall jostling her arm so that pain shot up into her shoulder. It took her a few seconds to recover and then scrabble around in the dirt on her knees so she was facing the right way.
M?rten’s broad back filled the doorway as he turned to face the oncoming threat. “Stay back,” he warned. “I’m police, and I will shoot you if I have to.”
Nathan’s only reply was to yell an unintelligible stream of words as he continued to pound down the hallway.
For the first time, Summer noticed M?rten was carrying a weapon strapped in a holster around his waist. He had his right hand on the handle of the gun, and even as she watched, he drew it.
But then her view was blocked by his body, so she couldn’t see what was happening.
She got to her feet and backed away, trying to discover what was going on, unsure what to do next.
Should she help him? But she had no idea what to do.
One thing was sure; she wasn’t running anywhere. Not without M?rten.
There was a shout, and the gun went off. Once. Twice.
And then M?rten was stumbling backward, falling on the ground right where Summer had been kneeling only seconds before, his weapon flying out of his hands. A howling Nathan landed on top of him, flailing wildly with a large knife in one hand, trying to stab M?rten.
Summer screamed. The sight of the blade flashing again and again toward M?rten had her frozen to the spot.
Memories of the night Marco died spiraled through her head, drawing her down into their depths.
The muggers had attacked them on a dark street while they’d been walking home from the movies late one night.
They’d accosted them, stabbed Marco before she even had time to react, then stolen her bag as she fell to the pavement beside Marco, begging him to keep breathing.
That they’d just killed a person was of no concern to the thugs.
Perhaps they were high on drugs. The sad thing was, it’d all been for nothing.
Summer had less than $20 in her purse, which she would’ve gladly given them if they’d just asked.
And the police never caught the criminals.
They’d done a most perfunctory investigation, as if Marco’s life was unimportant.
A Latino boy and his seventeen-year-old girlfriend weren’t near the top of their lists of priorities, and gang violence was rife in a city of that size.
Another wild grunt from Nathan pulled her back to the present. She wasn’t on the streets of San Jose. She was in the wilds of Sweden, and M?rten was here trying to protect her; fighting for his life. And hers.
M?rten was doing everything in his power to ward off Nathan’s strikes, his training helping him to block each blow, keeping the knife away from his face, grunting with the effort of protecting himself. But eventually Nathan was bound to land a strike.
She needed to help him. She hadn’t been able to help Marco.
But maybe she could change the outcome today.
Nathan seemed to have forgotten that Summer was there.
Maybe he didn’t see her as a threat, or maybe he was just so blinded by his bloodlust that all he could see was M?rten.
Whatever it was, it gave her an opportunity.
The gun? Where had the gun gone? She finally spotted it, a black shape on a patch of gravel a few feet from where the men were wrestling.
Half-stumbling, half-crawling, she reached it and picked it up with her good hand.
Checked that it was loaded, and that the safety was off.
Then she turned toward the fighting men and raised the weapon.
Nathan was still on top of M?rten, who was lying on the ground defending himself as best he could.
She took aim at Nathan’s torso. Summer knew guns.
She trained every few months at a local gun range.
After Marco’s death, she’d been determined never to be a victim again.
So she learned how to use a gun, just in case.
Kept her skills up-to-date. This would be a difficult shot, however.
She was holding it one-handed, her broken left arm useless.
What if the bullet went wide and hit M?rten instead?
“Nathan,” she said in a strong, clear voice. “Stop, or I’ll shoot.”
But it was as if Nathan hadn’t heard her. He was in a frenzy, desperate to attack M?rten, and he never even looked up.
She needed to get his attention to make him stop. She fired to the left of the fighting men, the sound so loud it nearly deafened her. But it had the desired effect. Nathan froze, knife-wielding arm mid-air, staring at her with glazed, red-rimmed eyes.
“What the fu—” but he never got to finish his question. In one swift move, M?rten snapped a hand up, dislodging the blade from Nathan’s grip. Before Summer could even blink, M?rten had twisted sideways and rolled Nathan onto his back, so that now he was sitting astride the man.
“It’s over, mate,” M?rten said, breathing heavily. “You heard the lady. If you move, she’ll shoot you.”
Her hand shook, and she lowered the weapon.
Thank God she hadn’t had to pull the trigger.
She liked to believe that she would have if the need had been desperate enough.
If M?rten’s life depended on it. But now she would never have to know what it felt like to shoot another human being.
She watched as M?rten pulled out a set of handcuffs and secured Nathan, who was still struggling hard to get free.
“Give me the gun,” M?rten commanded as he stood and backed away from Nathan.
Summer was only too happy to comply, limping over and handing it to him.
He took the weapon, unlatched the safety and re-holstered it at his hip, watching Nathan like a hawk.
“Backup will be here in a few minutes,” M?rten continued, probably saying it as much for her sake as for Nathan’s.
At his words, Nathan stopped struggling, emitting a large howl of rage and anguish.
Of defeat. Then he closed his eyes and lay completely motionless as if by doing so he could pretend that none of this was happening.
Backup couldn’t get here fast enough, Summer decided. Her bones were suddenly all doughy, as if they might not hold her up anymore. It was hard to believe this nightmare could be over. Then she remembered the scream. Paige. “We need to see if Paige is hurt,” she said, turning toward M?rten.
“Yep, I will, just give me a second,” he replied with a grimace.
What was wrong? Why did he look as if he were in pain?
M?rten was standing in the stream of light extending through the open door. Summer took three steps nearer as M?rten bent over and pressed a hand to his abdomen. Now that she was close, and now that he was no longer in the dark, she could make out a mysterious stain on M?rten’s T-shirt.
Oh. No.
Blood seeped from between M?rten’s fingers, and he winced again as he applied pressure to the wound. M?rten had been injured. He was bleeding. Now she could see how pale his handsome face had become. How he was gritting his teeth against the pain.
All Summer could do was stand and stare. She hadn’t saved the day after all; M?rten had still been stabbed. He was still going to die. He was going to bleed out, and he was going to die.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered through numb lips.
“I’m okay. It’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure it’s only a flesh wound,” M?rten said, straightening up slowly, and trying to smile at her.
But he couldn’t make this go away with a smile. He couldn’t pretend he was fine just for her sake. Summer took a step backward. How could he possibly know he would be fine? He wasn’t fine; this was very, very bad.
“No, noooo,” Summer wailed, almost beyond coherent thought now. “You’re going to die. Please don’t leave me.
“I’m not going to die,” he replied, shock and confusion replacing his attempt at a reassuring smile.
“Yes, yes, you are. Marco died. And you’re going to as well.”
She needed to get out of here; she couldn’t deal with this. Not again. She couldn’t bear to have someone she cared about perish again.
“Summer, it’s okay.” M?rten reached out to hand toward her.
“No!” She turned and ran.