69. Emma
Chapter Sixty-Nine
EMMA
S he turned to run, but it was too late. Fletcher hurled the case at her head.
Yelping, Emma lifted her hands, her palm slapping it out of the air by sheer chance. It struck her thigh as she twisted to run, sending it flying in front of her.
The case bounced off the doorway, ricocheting out of the room. The case spun on the hardwood floor, sliding down the hallway like a hockey puck.
She stopped, gaping at it. Emma looked back long enough to register that Fletcher was wearing a similar one, disbelief twisting his normally placid features into a grotesque caricature.
Slowly, they both turned to look at the case, then back at each other.
Emma broke her stupor, snatching it up by the handle and running flat out to the living room.
She managed to clear the hallway when the pounding behind her turned into a blow. Her body went flying, tumbling down the two steps into the sunken living room.
Her face smashed against the floor before the rest of her body.
Stunned, Emma lost her grip on the case. It went flying under the coffee table. Every muscle in her body froze, tensing up to protect her after the fact.
It was only a second, but that was long enough for Fletcher to catch up. But the man spent his days behind a desk. He wasn’t as physically gifted as Garrett or the rest of his circle. Unable to check his momentum, he ended up tripping over her, his foot connecting with her ankle.
He might as well have kicked her. Emma groaned, scrambling to her feet, the pain in her ankle radiating up her foot.
Forget the damn case. She had to get out of there.
Emma took a few steps, wincing when her injured ankle threatened to give out on her.
Fletcher grabbed her leg, his hand a vise. Emma cried out, twisting to kick him away with her good foot. But her kick went wild. She lost her balance, landing on the floor on her butt.
Then he was on her, grabbing at her hands and using his body weight to press her into the floor.
“Get off me!” she screamed. Emma couldn’t use her arms, so she pushed her legs into the carpet, trying to buck him off.
“Just stop,” he growled, slapping her face so hard it made her ears ring.
Emma sobbed, still fighting, but it was weaker now.
Fletcher might not have been a strong man, but he was stronger than her. When he hit her a second time, the ringing stopped and her head lolled, her cries muffled, as if they were coming from a great distance.
For one terrifying moment, the world flickered, darkening. But the pain didn’t lessen. Emma clung to it, clawing her way back to consciousness, continuing to cry out until her voice strengthened, turning into a scream.
“No, no, quiet,” he begged.
Spittle fell on her face as Fletcher wrapped his hands around her neck.
Emma screamed louder, the noise a roar in her ears. The world began to blur at the edges and she couldn’t breathe. Scrabbling, she dug her nails into his cheek, going for his eyeballs.
Suddenly, the weight was gone. Fletcher flew to the side as a booted foot rammed into his side.
Coughing, she looked up, expecting and praying to see Garrett. But the dark-haired blur was too vicious and sharp.
Elias .
He turned to her, a quick split-second check before rounding on Fletcher, growling. The sound could have come from a demon straight out of hell.
Garrett had told her a secret once when he’d had one too many whiskeys. Elias was former black ops.
She shuddered. This look on his face—like Fletcher was prey. This expression had been the last thing some men had seen before they died.
Elias snarled, stalking the smaller man. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing ?”
Taking a deep pained breath, Emma rolled onto her hands and knees, scuttling backward.
Fletcher rose but went down with one punch. He landed with a meaty thunk .
Emma kept crawling away, her brain remaining unconvinced that she was safe until she hit one of the little tables next to the fireplace, knocking it over.
“Emma.”
Strong hands reached for her, helping her up. Elias’ face sharped into clearer focus.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes latching on to her neck. “ Fuck . No, you’re not. It’s okay. Don’t try to talk.”
Before she could answer, there was a distant crash.
They both turned in time to see Garrett come in the front door. His coat hung off one shoulder and he kept glancing behind him toward the elevator.
“Fletcher nearly mowed me down. What’s wrong with him?”
Elias spun and swore when he saw her assailant was no longer on the floor. He sprinted for the door. “Stay with her!” he yelled.
Emma could see the moment Garrett realized she was hurt. His face went blank, icily remote .
It was far more terrifying than Elias’ more explosive anger.
He snapped his head to the open door and for a split second, she thought he was going to run after Elias. But he didn’t. He ran to her instead.
The moment Garrett’s arms wrapped around her, the dam broke. She burst into tears, noisy sobs that were barely muffled against the muscles of his chest.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”
He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, setting her on the edge of the bed and holding her close.
Emma didn’t know how long she cried, but it felt like a long time. Her body ached everywhere too, even in places that hadn’t hit the floor.
“I—I d-don’t know w-what’s wrong w-with me,” she whispered, forcing the words past her swollen throat.
Garrett tightened his hold. “Adrenaline. But you don’t have to worry. Whatever the hell Fletcher was up to is never going to happen again—because I’m going to kill him.”
This would have normally been the part where a normal upstanding citizen protested but Emma didn’t. Shuddering, she fisted her hands in his shirt.
“He came for the phone,” she said, grateful that her voice sounded normal. But holy shit it hurt to talk.
Garrett frowned. “What?”
“The phone Sheriff Warner sent. The FedEx box was in his briefcase.”
Garrett’s hands tightened on her as she told him the rest.
“I found him going through your desk. He hid it but I saw. He tried to play it off, saying you sent him for it, but I guess I didn’t look convinced because he threw his briefcase at me and… and…”
Emma stopped because the expression on Garrett’s face now was going to haunt her in her dreams.
Yeah, she didn’t care that Elias was an experienced killer. That’s what black ops meant and although her husband always tacked on ‘former’ in front of it, Emma didn’t think there was anything former about it.
But when came to her, none of that mattered. Garrett would always be the more dangerous one.
The atmosphere darkened, the universe warning her that Elias was back. He stomped into the room a minute later. “I lost the fucker!”
“ What ?” Garrett seemed more shocked by that than the fact that his business partner of almost a decade had attacked her without warning. “How the fuck did that happen?”
Elias glowered, flinging a hand up. He pressed his phone to his ear and began barking orders, starting with bringing him Fletcher Sweeney’s head on a pike.
Every Auric employee on the West Coast was being mobilized for the search.
Drained and hurting all over, Emma stumbled to the bathroom. She hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror since it happened.
The bright bathroom lights revealed the rapidly darkening ring around her neck. It was going to be black and blue for weeks.
Garrett appeared in the reflection behind her. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the steel of his embrace.
Elias entered with two glasses of whiskey in one hand as he continued to bark orders into his cell phone. He stopped to press the glass into her hand.
“Drink,” Garrett ordered when she stared at it.
“It’s not for you?” she asked, her brain sluggish.
“No, it’s not. Drink.”
His hands took the glass from her unresisting fingers. Garrett crouched, putting the lip of the crystal to her lips. He urged her to drink it all, and she did, despite the burn in her throat.
When she was done, her fingers had stopped shaking, though the occasional shudder still racked her body.
Elias put his phone down, shaking his head. “He won’t leave the city. I promise you that.”
Emma raised her brows. Considering the international border with Mexico was less than twenty miles away, that was going to be impossible. It had to be a white lie to placate her furious husband.
Or at least she thought it was until she took in their expressions and read murder there.
“The team doctor is on his way.” Elias downed the whiskey in the other glass. “What the fuck happened? Why the hell did that asshole attack her?”
“Fletcher took the phone Warner sent,” Garrett informed him in a flat voice.
Elias didn’t get it at first. When he did, a few emotions crossed his face, settling on an anger that was only eclipsed by her husband’s.
“Don’t worry. He won’t get away.”
Garrett rose, resting a hand on her shoulder. “No, he won’t. It doesn’t matter what hole he tries to hide in. We will find him .”