Chapter 27 #2
Impossible to push through this rickety door without remembering the last time I did it.
I still can’t believe I had the balls to come here alone, to bet my life on Peter being gone.
I found the woman in the apartment on the second floor, an old one-bedroom filled with secondhand furniture.
Compared to where Peter kept me five years ago, it was a palace.
I’d only been there five minutes before the woman realized what I was trying to do and punched me in the face.
My cheekbone gives a phantom throb in remembrance.
I don’t blame her for the attack or for kicking me out.
Didn’t I do nearly the same thing to Hook when he offered me a way out?
It was something I should have considered before I even tried, but being confronted with a past version of yourself has a way of messing with a person’s mind.
The door leads into a narrow hall with an out of service elevator and a stairwell leading up. Nigel keeps his gun down by his side. “Stay close.”
I nod. “Okay.”
We inch past the second door and the third. Every muscle is so tight, I’m surprised I can take a step. Something bad is coming. I just know it.
When it does, it happens fast.
The door behind Nigel eases open, and then two men appear. One knocks his gun away. The other punches him in the back of the head, sending him to his knees. They look at me. “You go up alone.”
I haven’t even had a chance to move. I clutch my purse close and try not to look as terrified as I feel. “Let him go, and I won’t fight.”
They exchange a look. The guy on the left finally shrugs. “Whatever you say, lady.” They haul Nigel to the front door and toss him unceremoniously out. I wince at the sound of impact, but at least he’s alive. I hope.
They follow me up the stairs, a weight at my back that prevents me from running. As if that’s an option. It feels like the last five years have been leading me to this place, to this moment. I never wanted this confrontation. I only wanted to live without the threat of Peter dragging me down.
I should have known he’d never let me go unless I forced him to.
I cling to my purse and walk to the same door I knocked on two short months ago. The doorknob turns easily in my hand, and then I’m inside. I’m not sure what I expect. A bloodbath. Hook, broken and bleeding on the floor, maybe even dead. To be shot the second I step over the threshold.
Instead, the scene I enter might be mundane if I didn’t know the history of the players. Hook sits on the couch. He’s got a trickle of blood still flowing from a cut on his temple, and his hands are cuffed in front of him, but he doesn’t seem too much the worse for wear.
Peter is … cooking.
I stop short and look around. Where’s the woman? Maybe the bedroom. It stands to reason that Peter would keep her out of it. Unless … “Where is she?”
“You always did have a hell of a time minding your own damn business.”
The scent of bacon slaps me in the face, making everything that much more surreal. “What the hell, Peter?”
“I got tired of waiting for you.” He doesn’t look at me, seeming to concentrate on the pan on the stove. “Get over here, baby. I want to show you something.”
“Tink?” Hook shakes his head slowly like he’s not sure I’m really here or some phantom in his imagination. “No.” There’s something off in his tone. I’m no doctor, but he’s definitely concussed, which means he won’t be able to help. It also means that one more nasty hit to his head could kill him.
I thought I was afraid before. I didn’t realize that the bottom of my terror could drop out and leave me in a freefall that feels strangely like rage. “He hit you.”
“I’m fine.” Hook frowns at me. “What are you doing here? Get the fuck out.”
That’s the one thing I can’t do. I don’t know if I can get Hook out alive, but if I leave now, I definitely won’t.
“I’m sorry.” I turn my attention to Peter as I take the handful of steps required to get me into the little kitchen.
Not quite close enough to grab, but close enough to be obedient.
To pacify. It takes more effort than I could have dreamed to shift my tone to obedience instead of screaming in his face. “I’m here. Let him go.”
“Did you think I’d really let you go, Tatiana?”
He’s said something similar before, but it’s only now that I finally have the strength to answer. “You don’t own me.”
“Wrong.” He turns and leans against the counter, so casual that I might relax if I haven’t seen this song and dance before.
Peter likes to lull his prey into relaxing before he strikes.
He gives me a slow smile. “You’ve been mine from the second I pulled you out of that shit hole foster home.
I didn’t ask for much, and you turn around and betray me the first chance you have. ”
Hardly the first chance, but I know better than to say as much. It took a very long time to gather up what little strength I had left and flee. “You shouldn’t have attacked Father Elijah.” As if that’s the sum of his sins. The thought is almost laughable.
“He shouldn’t have meddled with what’s mine.”
“I am a person, not a toy. You don’t get to throw a fit that I escaped before you broke me and threw me away.”
Peter holds out a hand. “Come here, baby.”
My heart is simultaneously trying to beat its way out of my ribcage and also cower somewhere around my spine. I don’t want to do this. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t. I know the shape of this trap intimately. I’ve been here before. I can move through the next steps by memory, even after all this time.
I will not go back to this.
I hug my purse tighter to my chest, an inadequate shield if ever there was one.
“You’re going to regret this.” My hoarse voice might read like fear but anger rises with each ragged breath.
He thinks he can simply pick me up and make me his again because he wants to.
That he can kill the man I love and the future I’m desperate for out of spite.
No. I won’t let it happen.
“Don’t make me ask again.” He motions me closer with a tense flick of his fingers.
I don’t know where Nigel’s people are, but they won’t crash through this door in time to prevent what comes next. I’m on my own. If I falter, both Hook and I pay the price.
I’ve never done anything but falter where Peter is concerned.
Not this time. Never again.
It takes every bit of strength I have to move one step closer and then another.
To willingly put myself back within his reach again.
I don’t make it a third step. Peter moves faster than he has a right to and grabs me, yanking me the last bit of distance and plastering my back to his chest. He’s built shorter and slighter than Hook, but he’s still strong enough to hold me easily in place.
“Do you know what a grease burn does to skin? Especially when it’s good and hot?”
I look down at the pan. The bacon is burnt to a crisp, practically floating in viciously bubbling grease.
That kind of thing won’t kill me, but it will hurt like a bitch.
It will scar. “You’ll never make it out of this place alive, Peter.
” My voice sounds eerily calm, even to my ears. “Hook’s people will kill you first.”
“You and Hook won’t live long enough to enjoy that. No one crosses me without consequences. You know that better than anyone. It’s time to pay the piper, baby.” He nudges us closer to the stove. To the grease-filled pan. “Give me your hand, Tatiana.”
“Okay.” I jerk my hand out of my purse and press my taser to the bare skin of his arm.
The volt of energy makes him grip me tighter, but the second I let go of the trigger, he collapses to the floor.
I go to my knees next to him and press the taser to his throat.
This time, I hold the trigger for a five count, until his eyes roll back in his head.
When I lift it away from his skin, he doesn’t move.
I stare down at his unconscious form. It happened so fast. I did it. I fought the monster who’s haunted my nightmares for years. “No one touches me without permission anymore, asshole.” He can’t hear me, but it feels good to say. So fucking good.
Even though I want to rush to Hook, I take a few seconds to pat Peter down.
I find a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants and the keys to the cuffs.
Only then do I climb to my feet. Hook meets me halfway.
“I can’t believe you came here.” He’s weaving on his feet in a way that alarms me, but at least he’s moving.
“We don’t have a lot of time. Hold this.
” I carefully press the gun into his hand and focus on the cuffs.
It takes me three tries to fit the key into the lock.
I can’t stop shaking. It’s not over, and fear and determination and anger have me in a stranglehold.
I toss the cuffs to the ground. “I have to get you out of here.”
“Tink.”
I ignore him and shove the taser back into my purse. “We have to go. Right now.”
“Tink.”
I look up, but he’s not focused on me. He’s focused on something over my shoulder.
I desperately don’t want to turn around, don’t want to see my nightmare rising to stand.
I open my mouth, but Hook moves before I can say a word.
He drags me to his chest, and lifts the gun.
A bang. Another. A third. A thump as something large hits the ground.
Silence.
His big hand keeps my face pinned to his chest, but he relaxes the smallest amount. “He’s gone.”
“Hook.” I try to push away, but he doesn’t let me go. “Jameson. I need to see.”
“No.”
It’s tempting, so tempting, to just give in, but I can’t shake the feeling that if I don’t look now, I’ll always be glancing over my shoulder. “Please. I have to.”
“It’s proof that I’m a monster.” He says it so softly, I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or himself. “It was always going to happen, but I thought I’d hesitate.”
“No.” I stop fighting him and pull him closer, as if I can hug him hard enough to chase away that emptiness in his voice.
He’s shaking, and it makes my heart ache for him.
For both of us. “You are not a monster. You are not like him, Jameson. You’re a good fucking person and a good person does what it takes to protect the protect the people they care about. ” I take a slow breath. “Let me see.”
“Don’t take this on, beautiful girl.” He sounds hoarse and almost sorry. “It’s not your burden to bear.”
It’s one he fully intends to take for himself so no one else has to.
Even with the mess inside my chest right now, I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more.
I hold him tighter. “I need to see, Jameson. I need this to be over once and for all.” When he still hesitates, I say the words I’m suddenly certain he needs to here.
“I love you. There isn’t a single thing that’s happened today to make me love you less.
Do you understand me, Jameson? I love you and he doesn’t get to take that from either of us. ”
Finally, a small eternity later, he loosens his grip enough for me to twist in his arms. Peter lies on the floor of the kitchen, three gunshot wounds in his chest, his blue eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
I take it in with a single sweep, waiting for reality to sink in.
He’s gone. Really, truly gone. Then I see the pan beside him, the spilled grease.
“He was going after me.” The grease might not kill me, but a blow or two from that pan would.
“Yes,” he sounds firmer, more centered.
I turn back and bury my face in Hook’s chest. “I love you, Jameson Hook. Take me home. Please.”