Chapter 32
Deadly Rejection
Fenella
Oh my God.
It isn’t Laird who steps in to help me, it’s Peter. He wraps his arm around my neck until I am pinned under him. Cold metal presses to my temple. There’s a black gun aimed at my head.
“Let me go, Peter,” I growl, though my body trembles.
“Shut up!” Peter snaps. His words ring in my ears.
I close my eyes and bear the pain in my ankles, swallowing the roar of fear. I lift my arms to free myself, but panic makes me useless; I’m suddenly helpless and can only cling to Peter’s arm. I can’t even stand on my own. My balance wobbles.
“Please, Peter, please,” I whisper.
“Peter, let her go. She doesn’t know anything,” Alan says, trying to calm him.
“Yes? Then put the bag in the car and move away.”
Peter tightens his grip. The gun tip digs harder into my temple. I stare at Alan as he drops the black duffel into the back passenger seat and backs away, exactly as Peter ordered.
“Done. Now let her go.” Alan steps forward, but Peter shoves me toward the car. “Peter, let her go,” Alan warns again, low.
“You shut up! You traitor! I brought you into my business and you betray me? You called the FBI? You think you’re so smart?” Peter’s voice explodes, the gun still inches from my face.
“What FBI?” Alan frowns.
“Don’t play dumb. The feds are tearing my house apart right now. And you’re here stealing my money. How about I blow this girl’s brains out too, huh?” Peter pants.
My breathing is ragged. My feet throb. Tears track down my cheeks. My heart races and my whole body shakes.
“Calm down, Peter. I didn’t call the feds,” Alan says, stepping closer. Peter drags me to the side of the car, nearly at the driver’s door.
“I don’t give a fuck. All I know is you stole my money.”
He forces me onward, using my body as a shield. Alan keeps advancing. When we reach the driver’s door, Peter presses me against the car.
“Let her go, Peter!” Alan shouts.
Peter squints between the door and Alan, afraid to lower his guard. I’m trapped in the middle and I can do nothing but tremble. Is that all I can do, shake with fear?
Both my hands claw at Peter’s arms locked across my neck and shoulders. I pull harder, but he clamps down. I choke. I refuse to give up.
“Don’t move, bitch!” Peter growls.
“Peter, don’t be rash. Please let her go.” Alan steps in as I fight to break free. My legs are swollen and raw, my bare feet burning as he drags me. My knees buckle, but I don’t want to give up. I have to do something.
“Don’t come closer or I’ll shoot. Don’t move!” Peter threatens.
I jerk my head back hard into Peter’s chin. He screeches, stunned by the blow. Pain blooms at the back of my head, but I shove away under his loosened arm and roll to the floor.
Alan lunges. Peter fires once—sharp and raw. I flinch; my jaw drops. Gunpowder stings my nose. It’s so loud my ears ring and my vision blurs. When sight returns, Peter falters and the gun clatters free. Alan snatches it and they crash into each other.
They roll across the tiles, punches flying. Alan lands a kick to Peter’s groin, lunges for the sidearm, and grabs it. He turns and fires—this shot hits Peter’s shoulder. My heart jumps against my ribs. Peter groans; his suit darkens with blood. He screams and collapses.
“Fuck! Alan, you son of a bitch!” Peter roars.
We breathe hard. Alan levels the gun at Peter. His eyes are wide and flat with a look that says he might pull the trigger.
“You’re the damned one. How dare you point this at Fenella? No one touches her,” Alan hisses, hand steady on the gun.
“Alan stop! Don’t do it! Don’t kill him! Please stop!” I scream.
“Listen to her. There’s no point killing me.” Peter raises his hands weakly, a useless shield against bullets.
Alan’s jaw clenches. He stares at Peter, and for a moment my words seem to blunt his fury. He boots Peter’s face into the wall. Peter groans and goes limp.
Alan and I are gasping, but it’s not over. Alan turns to me. His eyes are still hard, and now his anger hits me.
“Did you call the FBI? You can’t possibly be connected to them.” His voice cuts off. His eyes widen as if he has just pieced something together.
Pain slices my ear as the earpiece tears free and blood wells. A hot wetness runs behind my ear and a metallic tang hits the back of my throat. Alan rips the earpiece away, hears the voice on the other end for a heartbeat, and slams it to the floor.
“You’re the one who called the FBI? Are you with Laird?” Alan looms over me.
I look up with tears streaming down my cheeks. I am cut off from Golden’s directions and can only cry. “Please, Alan. Let me go.”
“Fenella, what did you do?” Alan holds his head, eyes flashing with panic and disappointment.
“I’m sorry. Please, Alan. Let me go.” I beg him.
“I make a plan and you ruin it!” Alan roars, his whole body shaking.
He notices the necklace that’s the same style as my earrings. He points the gun at me. “Take that necklace off. What is it, FBI tech too? Take it off or I’ll shoot you.”
My hands shake as I grab the clasp at the back of my neck. I struggle with it while my mouth keeps begging Alan not to shoot.
When I finally remove it, Alan snatches the necklace from my hand and throws it on the floor. A sound comes from the door behind us. Only the door isn’t opening. Someone is banging on it from outside.
“Alan! Peter! I know you’re in there! Just give up!”
It’s Laird. I know his voice. The painful pounding keeps going. The tip of something sharp keeps slashing through the door.
“Get up. Get in the car.” Alan grabs my arm and drags me to the driver’s seat.
“Let go of me!”
I fight with everything I have, but he keeps his grip. He won’t listen and now he’s forcing me to follow him. Limping, I drag my feet toward the car.
“I don’t want to go. Let me go.”
I hold the car door with my hand. Even when he tries to yank it open, I hold it tight. Outside, Laird keeps trying to smash through the door. I buy as much time as I can, waiting for him to reach me.
“Fenella, don’t test me. Get in the car right now,” Alan threatens, the gun pointed at my forehead. I push him, and fury flashes across his face. His free hand clamps around my neck.
“Alan!” I try to scream, but his grip tightens. He growls right in my face.
“Don’t play games, Fenella. Get in the car. Or should I kill you right now?”
My face scrunches up as I fight for air. My throat burns, my chest is tight, and my coordination slips. He means every word.
“Why are you doing this, Fenella? Why are you working with them?” he whispers, voice low and raw. Tears run down his cheeks, his breath hot on my skin. He releases my throat and grabs a fistful of my hair instead.
I grimace in pain. “Please, Alan. Let me go.”
“Didn’t you say you were gonna marry me? Were you lying?”
“I’m sorry. I love Laird. Please let me go.” I choke through ragged breaths.
“No. You’re mine, Fenella.”
Alan kisses me. He sucks my lips hard and forces his tongue into my mouth. I clamp my mouth shut and pull back, but both his hands hold my head in place.
He grabs my neck again. I cough, desperate for air, and my mouth opens. He kisses me again. His tongue forces its way in, reaching for mine.
I bite down hard on it. He groans and jerks back. He holds his bleeding tongue, wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and spits blood on the floor. His hand swings, and the bottom of the gun hits my temple.
“Damn it!” His mouth hangs open as he realizes what he’s done. “It’s your fault. Why’d you hurt me?”
I cough and cough. My jaw throbs, my legs scream with pain, and my head spins. I try to hold on, waiting for Laird. As I lie helpless on the floor, Alan hauls me up again. He grabs my waist and forces me into the car.
“Alan! You bastard!”
Laird’s voice echoes from behind the door. Bang after bang rattles the frame, but he still can’t break through the locked room.
“Get lost, Laird! Fenella and I are getting married. We’re gonna live happily ever after.” Alan fires at the door. The blast makes me flinch and my hands fly up to cover my head.
“Get out, you coward!” Laird yells, but Alan only laughs. He swings open the driver’s side door and shoves me roughly inside, my head hitting the side of the hood.
“Alan! You’re hurting me! Let me go!” I groan, but he doesn’t care.
“Listen, Fenella. If you don’t obey, I’ll kill him. This gun’s loaded. So move,” he snarls, pressing the barrel against my forehead. “Stay put, or I shoot. Understand?”
I have no choice. My body trembles. Tears blur my vision as I crawl fully into the car.
Alan moves toward the driver’s side, but suddenly a heavy wrench sails from the entryway and cracks him across the skull. It’s Laird. He jumps, kicking him, and grabs Alan by the collar, smashing a fist into his cheek. The gun falls to the floor.
Alan lands a gut punch. They tumble, grappling at the car’s flank. I scream as they slam into the vehicle, metal rattling beneath them. Laird yanks Alan into the wall, but Alan grabs back, returning blows and reaching for the gun.
They grapple on the hood, their bodies thrashing. Laird slams Alan against the metal again and again. I flinch with every impact. Alan elbows him in the neck, and Laird spits blood, groaning in pain.
Alan pins him against the windshield, one arm choking him. Our eyes meet; his face twists with the strain, his hands clawing for freedom. Laird’s breath comes ragged. His arms wobble for a second, the hits taking their toll, but he keeps swinging.
With a forceful swing, Laird breaks free, but Alan knees him in the stomach, then shoves him onto a metal shelf against the wall.
Blood trickles from Laird’s temple, and he struggles to rise, legs trembling.
Alan, breathing heavily, bends to the floor, grabs the gun, and points it at Laird’s head.
Blood streaks down Alan’s cheeks, but his eyes blaze.
“Goodbye, Laird,” he says. His hand tenses, ready to pull.
No. I can’t let him win.
Adrenaline surges through me. I throw the car door open with all my strength, slamming it into Alan. He crashes to the floor, groaning; the gun discharges in the scramble. I’ve lost count of the shots today; they all smell of gunpowder and crack the same. My heart jumps against my ribs.