Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Waiting sucked.
Especially when you were the cause of the problem in the first place. Nathan and the guys could say all they wanted that this wasn't her fault, but they all knew that her firing that weapon had led the men in those cars right to them.
And now those men were firing on Nathan, and she was terrified he was going to be shot.
Not that she wanted one of the other guys to be shot either.
They’d put their lives on the line for her, leaving behind their own families to come to her rescue.
It didn't matter that it was their job, they were there, and they were in danger for her, to save her, and she’d made things so much worse.
Maybe she shouldn’t have shot at the man before she knew he was an actual threat.
No. They’d all agreed that shooting was the right thing to do, even if her aim wasn't so good.
She had to protect herself, and she had no intention of giving up.
Maybe she was going to crash and burn once she got home, but she certainly wasn't going to do it where she was anywhere but safe.
When she had her family all around her, to catch her when she stumbled, and Nathan, too, of course, then she could let go, then she could give in to the overwhelming urge to scream until her voice was hoarse, and then sob until her lungs felt like they were going to burst.
It felt natural to see Nathan as part of her life.
When she was with him, it didn't matter that they’d only known each other such a short time, it didn't matter that they’d met under the worst of circumstances.
All that mattered was that he made her feel things she’d only ever read about in books, seen in movies, and heard in songs.
There was nothing she could do to protect him now, but stay there and wait.
As much as it sucked, and she hated knowing that if she hadn't fired those shots at Grover, then they could have hidden and those jeeps would have passed right on by, she had to do as Nathan asked.
If she was out there, she was a distraction, and she wasn't going to put him in danger all over again.
Were the gunshots winding down? Was it her imagination, or did it seem like there weren't as many? They seemed more sporadic now, rather than a constant stream of loud pops that made her want to bury her head in her hands, block her ears, and pretend she was anywhere but here.
No, it wasn't her imagination. The gunshots really were decreasing, which had to mean that the fighting was almost over.
There wasn't a doubt in her mind who had come out on top, and it had nothing to do with the fact that there wasn’t a horde of angry men who had shoved their penises in her mouth and made her come on their tongues, rushing toward her, desperate for a repeat.
So when things went silent, and then a minute later she heard footsteps, it seemed only natural to assume that it was Nathan.
Before she even realized that she should be more careful, wait until he called her name, or someone said the code word, she was already shifting, wiggling partway out of the bush she was hiding beneath.
Which was when she realized she’d made a huge mistake.
Because it wasn't Nathan, nor was it one of the Delta Force guys.
The man striding toward her with an evil smirk on his face was none other than Stephen Joseph himself.
It must have been a ploy. Get everyone’s attention on the vehicles approaching, keep the men who had come for her distracted, fighting for their lives, so no one would notice their boss coming to get her back.
“I won't go with you, I'd rather die,” she snarled, knowing it was already too late to pretend that she wasn't there. He’d seen her, and as far as she was concerned, only one of them was walking away from this encounter alive.
Her or him, it couldn’t be both.
“Oh, my little pet, it’s amusing that you think you have any say in what happens here, but I can guarantee you one thing.
You're going to wish you were dead by the time I'm finished with you. Maybe I’ll keep you for years, let you grow old alongside me, watch as you wither away into nothing more than a shell of a person.
I own you, little pet. You belong to me, and no one takes what's mine.”
“You sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum,” she snapped as her gaze scanned the area behind him to see if he was alone.
She had the gun, and all she needed to do was fire it, and Nathan and the others would know that something was wrong.
But if Stephen Joseph had a whole bunch of men with him, they could kill her or leave with her before Nathan could do anything to stop it.
Besides, she didn't have good aim, and if she wanted to get away from this monster, hell, if she wanted to kill him, and she absolutely did, then she needed him to get just a little bit closer first.
“You think you're a little comedian, pet?” he snarled as he approached the bushes where she was still partially concealed.
“You think it’s going to be funny when you're being raped until you bleed?
When you inevitably get pregnant, and I have one of my people purge you of that child, and its blood flows from your body?
When you're begging and screaming, pleading for mercy, and I show you none?”
All of that would happen over her dead body.
If she couldn’t kill her buyer, and Nathan and the others didn't get to her in time, then she’d put a bullet through her own brain before she allowed Stephen Joseph to do any of those things to her.
“I think that one day you're going to fall from your throne and be the one without any power,” she said as he leaned in to try to grab her. Emma shuffled backward so he had to really work to try to grab a hold of her, and as soon as his hand fisted in her T-shirt, she lifted her weapon.
“You think you're going to get another chance to escape? I’ll keep you chained up and at my disposal twenty-four-seven if I have to. The boy’s punishment for letting you escape will be nothing compared to yours,” Stephen snarled as an engine revved nearby and they were illuminated by a pair of headlights.
Emma merely grinned as she pressed the barrel of the weapon to his temple. “Actually, I already have my means to escape.”
She didn't hesitate.
Pulled the trigger.
The bang was louder than she’d been expecting, and she hadn't realized how much blood and brain matter came out when you shot someone in the head.
Her buyer, torturer, and would-be murderer’s body fell on top of hers, pinning her to the ground, but that turned out to be a good thing.
Because shouts and more gunfire erupted nearby.
She realized that Nathan and the others must have come when they heard the gunfire, and they were shooting at whoever had been waiting in that vehicle to take her and Stephen Joseph away.
“Emma!” Nathan shouted her name, and she heard him pounding across the ground to get to her.
She tried to call back to him, to assure him that she was okay, but Stephen’s weight was crushing her, and she couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“What the hell?”
“Did she get him?”
“Is that him?”
“I think she killed him.”
“Emma, sweetheart, answer me,” Nathan insisted, ignoring the others as she saw his face pop up over the shoulder of the man lying dead on top of her.
“I had better aim this time,” she managed to croak out, making the guys laugh.
“You sure did, honey,” Grover said, and she heard the note of respect in his voice again.
“Can you … get him off me … he’s heavy,” she wheezed, and a moment later, Stephen Joseph’s body was gone, and Nathan was there, dragging her out from the bushes and into his arms.
Clutching her against his chest, Nathan sank to the ground, cradling her in his lap as he rocked her from side to side. It was only now, when she was safe, when it was over, that she allowed her tears to fall.
Grabbing fistfuls of Nathan’s shirt, she buried her face against his neck and allowed two weeks’ worth of pent-up terror, humiliation, and anger to come bursting out as she began to sob.
Through it all, Nathan held her, his lips touching kisses to the top of her head, her forehead, her temples, anything he could touch, while his arms remained banded around her, and his fingers stroked her sides.
“Sorry for crying,” she said when the tears began to recede a little.
“Never be sorry for that, blondie,” Nathan told her, framing her face with his hands and catching her tears with his thumbs.
“You are without a doubt the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I have ever met.
You killed your monster, sweetheart. You.
I didn't have to save you because you saved yourself, and in doing so, I think you saved me, too. Thank you.”
Looking at Nathan through watery eyes, she knew he would always be her hero, her savior, no matter what he said. She’d done some of the work, but without him, she wouldn't have gotten this far. “Remember the storage closet?” she asked, making him laugh. “I need a kiss now, Nathan.”
August 12th
1:21 P.M.
Thirty-six hours after he thought he’d failed Emma and lost her for good, Nathan was holding her hand as they walked into Prey’s main office in the middle of Manhattan.
Relief didn't even begin to describe how he felt, not just that Emma was still alive, but that she was there with him, not shutting him out, seeking comfort from him, seemingly wanting him in her life going forward.
They hadn't had a lot of time to discuss exactly what that looked like because there had been other priorities.
After he held her while she sobbed out all the emotions she’d been holding in behind a lock and key, he’d bundled her into his arms, and they borrowed one of the jeeps to drive the remaining distance to the exfil location.
They first took a helicopter to a small airfield before hopping onto a private jet for the flight home.