Chapter 15 #2
“You think I’m joking?” Cameron had always had a sweet, high-pitched voice, but now, it seemed menacing and callous.
The way she held the gun looked professional, or at least trained.
Becks was no expert, but she’d been around a lot of movie sets.
Cameron’s grip seemed steady, and the barrel was pointed directly at Liam’s chest. “Lower the fucking phone, Ranger. And don’t even think about trying to hit the panic button. ”
Panic button? Becks had no idea what it was she was talking about, but Liam seemed to.
Cameron’s smile was cold as she added, “Yeah, regretting all that pillow talk now, aren’t you?
Talking about all the cool gadgets little boy Keys comes up with, and how it’s just like when you were in the military?
” She talked almost like she was bored, and then her expression hardened.
“Phone down, and you might as well take off those dog tags. Wouldn’t want you to be tracked now, would we? ”
Becks’ purse was under the seat of her car, and she realized her phone was also inside. Apparently she was loving being disconnected a little too much, because she rarely kept her phone on her anymore. It was really only when Ghost was at work while she was at home.
To her shock, Liam dropped his phone to the floor. “What is this about, Cami? What do you mean your bomb went off early?”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “Fuck, I hate that name. ‘Cami, suck my cock’, ‘Cami, you feel so good around my dick’, Cami, Cami, Cami…” she mocked, clearly ignoring his second question. “My name is fucking Cam-er-on,” she said, emphasizing each syllable. “Becks, get your fat ass over here.”
Becks stiffened, though not because of the completely unnecessary insult. Right now, she stood in the kitchen, a good distance away from Cameron and her gun. She did not want to go closer.
“Stay there,” Liam instructed, his voice clipped and rushed. “You can use the island for cover.”
Cover? Did he just say cover? As in, from bullets?
Cameron’s hand casually raised her gun from Liam’s chest to his head. “Don’t test me. I’ve had to live through fucking you for over a year. I would love the opportunity to see your brains splattered all over my apartment.”
“No!” Becks shouted, her feet moving before she even realized what she had done. She skidded to a halt on the other side of the island, her hands raised pleadingly. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”
Cameron’s smile did not fill Becks with any reassurance. Her stance did not move, nor did her attention stray from Liam, as she casually swapped which hand her gun was in. Suddenly, Becks was the one looking down the barrel of a gun.
Becks’ eyes went wide and her heart started hammering even harder inside her chest. She didn’t dare move, and she had the intense urge to pee.
“Cameron!” Liam shouted, taking a step forward.
“Uh ah,” Cameron scolded, almost playfully. “You stay right where you are, big boy. Right now, both of you are breathing because I can use the other as leverage, but never forget that I only need one of you alive.”
“For what?” Liam demanded. His body was tight, like a spring waiting to be released. Becks recalled seeing him fight at her wedding, and knew the only thing keeping him where he was was the threat of a bullet going through Becks’ head.
But Cameron waggled the pointer finger of her free hand at him. “Not yet. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
She picked up her purse as Cameron stepped further away from him and closer to Becks.
Fear kept Becks’ entire body frozen. As much as she wished she had superior fighting skills or the knowhow to disarm someone with a gun, she did not.
And was it just her or was a real gun bigger than the prop ones they used on movie sets?
Cameron’s gun never wavered as she moved behind Becks.
As terrifying as facing a gun was, it was nothing to losing sight of it.
Becks let out a pitiful whimper, tears running down her cheeks.
She didn’t want to die, and all she could think was that now she wouldn’t see the bullet coming. That was not a comforting thought.
“Now.” Becks flinched as Cameron threw her purse at Liam. He caught it easily. “Inside is a syringe and a tourniquet. Get them out,” Cameron instructed Liam.
Liam stiffened, not reaching into the bag. His hands balled it up like he was preparing to throw it. “I am not injecting my sister!”
Cold metal touched the back of Becks’ head, and her eyes immediately closed as her chin trembled.
If Cameron pulled that trigger, there was a possibility that she wasn’t just killing Becks.
What if she was pregnant? What if she never got the chance to see Ghost again?
Or her mom or Libby? Her eyes flew open, fixing on her brother.
It might seem stupid, but Becks didn’t want to die alone.
He might be across the room, but he was still here. Still with her.
“You think I’d let you get that close to me?” Cameron sneered. “Oh, no, soldier boy, the syringe is for you.”
Liam met Becks’ eyes for a heartbeat before turning his attention back to Cameron. “What’s in it?”
“Something to make you more compliant,” she answered unhelpfully.
Becks shivered, feeling the woman’s breath on the back of her neck.
“And before you try to do anything macho or super soldier-y, remember that I can pull the trigger a lot faster than you can bolt across this room, throw my purse, or do anything to try to stop me. One slip and bam!” she shouted, making Becks jump.
“Bye, bye, baby sister.” Becks could practically hear the pout in Cameron’s voice.
Liam didn’t move. He didn’t reach inside the purse as instructed, nor did he take a charging step forward. “Why are you doing this? What is this about?”
“Don’t try to stall,” she griped, clearly running out of patience. “There’s no ‘talking me out of this’ or ‘pleading to the goodness inside me’,” she mocked. “I just blew up your fucking bar. Do you really think there’s anything you can say that will stop me from pulling this trigger?”
Becks could honestly say she’d never been so terrified in her life. She felt like she was breathing too fast, and yet still not receiving enough oxygen.
Liam met her eyes again, and Becks’ stomach sank even further.
She wanted to tell him not to do it, wanted to plead with Cameron to force his compliance any other way than some mystery drug that would do who-knew-what to her brother, but the cold metal at the back of her head kept her tongue from forming the necessary words.
He looked back to Cameron. “It couldn’t have all been an act. I refuse to believe that you’re that good of an actress. You care about me—”
“Oh, please!” Cameron scoffed, sounding like a petulant teenager.
Becks could practically hear her eyes roll, too.
“You were nothing more than a dick to ride, and a means to an end. I feel nothing for you. Now, stop fucking stalling. If you took away anything from our time together, Ranger, just remember how ruthless I can be when it comes to getting something I want.”
She must have done something behind Becks that Becks couldn’t see, because Liam threw his hands up in the air, the purse still clutched in one. “Wait, wait! Stop! I’ll do it! Just… How do I know you won’t hurt her once I do?”
“I already told you that,” Cameron snapped. “Lev-er-age.” She spoke like she thought Liam nothing more than a fucking moron. “So make your choice, soldier boy, needle or bullet, because I’ve already made mine and nothing is going to keep me from it.”
Time seemed to freeze. Becks had no idea what Liam was thinking or considering.
Then, slowly, like he was purposefully not making any sudden movements, Liam reached into the purse.
It wasn’t large, just a clutch. Becks had no idea how Cameron had fit her gun inside it.
Unless she’d gotten the gun from somewhere else.
Becks’ back had been turned when she’d pulled it, so she didn’t actually know where the gun had come from.
Her fingers were so numb from fear that Becks wasn’t even sure if she was still holding the icepack anymore, and she didn’t dare look down to check.
True to Cameron’s word, Liam did pull out a syringe and a teal rubber tourniquet. He dropped the purse. From how silently it hit the carpet, Becks had to wonder if it was now empty. He tied the tourniquet around his upper arm, pulling it tight with his teeth.
He popped the plastic cap off the needle. His voice did not waver as he told her, “I love you,” before pressing the needle into the crook of his elbow.
Ghost lost the battle, and was forcibly pulled from the wreckage. It was a testament to just how weak he was that they were even able to do it. Sirens flashed outside; ambulances, firetrucks, police cars, and motorcycles filled the street and parking lot.
An oxygen mask was forced over his head nearly as soon as he was outside. Paramedics took him, guiding him onto a stretcher. Ghost tried to get up numerous times, but then a large body crowded over him, pressing him down. Blinking, he was able to clear his vision enough to make out Bear.
“Easy, brother. You’re hurt.”
Ghost struggled to get the mask off his face so he could speak to Bear. “Frankie. She’s still inside. Grumpy too.” Christ, was that his voice?
Bear put the mask back over his nose and mouth. “Keys is working on pulling video so they know exactly how many people were inside. But you need to do your part and stay down.”
Frustration and pain wracked his body. Ghost was not good at staying still. When Bear acknowledged his compliance, he removed his hands from Ghost’s shoulders. “How can I help?” the former RN asked the paramedics.