Chapter 17 #2
“I have to go,” Bea continues. “I have to face them. And if they still blame me—”
“Bea.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her against me. “They do not blame you. They wouldn’t have asked you over if they did. And there’s nothing to blame you for. You were a victim, just like Jenna. The only difference—”
My throat closes.
The very thought of how close it came…
Bea could have died, too.
A chill grabs hold of my body. My chest goes tight.
I could have lost Bea before I even had a chance with her.
All the people she helps would have lost her, too.
Her parents would have been devastated.
Shit.
It was too damn close.
“Indy.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m okay. I’m safe.”
“I know.”
“Really.” Her hand comes to my leg and squeezes. “You protected me. You and your team. And now I’m free. The real killer is going to prison. Am I nervous about seeing Jenna’s parents? Yes. But I’ll deal with it. And after…”
The belt around my chest releases a notch. “We’ll pack up your things and head west.”
“Yes.” She lifts her head and meets my gaze. With a smile, she adds, “I’m going to get a fresh start. With you. And I can’t wait.”
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be.”
In profile, Bea’s expression is pensive. But thankfully, not unhappy. She glances out the car window at the blur of trees passing by before turning to me. “They were sad. Obviously. But not mad at me. So I’m relieved about that.”
Without thinking, I reach over to take her hand. A beat later, I inwardly flinch. There’s still a small part of me that anticipates rejection, even though Bea’s never given me reason to feel that way.
But instead of rejection, she twines her fingers between my carbon and metal ones, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. With a small smile, she says, “I’m glad I saw them. Even though I was nervous about it.”
As the red light in front of us turns green, I accelerate through it. “It was really brave, Bea. What you did. Going there, not knowing how they’d react…”
“I think it helped them,” she replies. “Having someone to talk to Jenna about. And knowing that I’m okay. After everything.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I don’t know them, obviously. But it seemed like… a weight had been lifted after they talked to you. If that makes sense.”
Bea nods. “It does. And I’m glad they didn’t ask about that night.
I was worried they might. But they just wanted to know how I was doing and if I’m holding up okay.
I felt a little bad that I couldn't tell them the whole truth, but I guess it doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things, does it? ”
Guilt pricks at me. “They know all the important things, Bea. They know you’re safe. They know their daughter’s killer is in jail. That he won’t hurt another woman. And they got to talk to you about memories of Jenna.”
After a silent pause, she nods. “True.”
The road that leads to Bea’s apartment building comes up on the right, and I flick on the blinker before turning onto it. “So,” I say in a brighter tone, “what would you like to do for the rest of the day? Do you want to go anywhere? Or would you rather just relax at home?”
Bea thinks for a few seconds. “I’d rather stay home. If that’s okay with you. Cuddle on the couch, order delivery, watch a movie…”
“And maybe have a repeat of this morning?”
Her solemn expression brightens. “Oh, yes. Definitely that.”
Slowing, I make a left into her apartment parking lot. Scanning the lot, I locate a spot close to her front door, second-to-last in a line of six. As I maneuver into the empty spot one-handed, I reply, “I have some other ideas of some things we could try, too.”
“Oh?” Her eyes light with interest. “Like what?”
“Hold that thought.” I shut off the ignition and open the driver’s side door. “Let me come get you. Then I’ll tell you some of my ideas.”
Before helping Bea from the car, I glance around the parking lot again, searching for anything remotely suspicious. But with it being the middle of the day, with most of the people in her small complex at work, everything is quiet. Just as I like it.
Once Bea’s tucked against my side, we start heading towards her front door. The sun is out, its light catching the gold streaks in her hair. The sky is a clear wash of blue, nearly the same color as Bea’s eyes.
As she glances over at me, she smiles. “So. What are these ideas you mentioned?”
“Well. We haven’t showered together yet. I thought that could be fun.”
In truth, I hadn’t brought up the idea before because it means having sex without my prosthetic on.
But the more time I spend with Bea, the less important that feels.
And it’s like she told me before—she was there at the very start.
So she knows how I look. She knows what the scars look like. And she doesn’t care.
“Oh.” She turns to me and grins. “Showering together sounds fun. What else?”
As we arrive at Bea’s door, I punch in the code for the new alarm system I installed the day we arrived. The little red light switches to green, and the latch releases. “There are some positions I think you might like,” I tell her. “Nothing too crazy, though.”
“You mean I won’t have to turn my body into a pretzel?”
I laugh. “Not quite. Maybe a little bendy, but that’s all.”
Bea giggles. “Bendy. I can do that.”
I push open the door and scan the living room, checking to see if everything is just how we left it. Nothing appears out of place. Not that I’m expecting it to, but it’s habit. And with Bea with me, there’s no such thing as being too careful.
“So these bendy positions,” she continues. “Do I need diagrams for them? Multi-step directions?”
“No.” Bea starts to shrug off her jacket, and I slide it the rest of the way off. After I take off my own, I carry them over to the coat closet to hang them up.
From behind me, I hear the tap of Bea’s footsteps heading into the kitchen. She calls out, “Do you want something to drink? Or a snack? I’m actually a little hungry.”
“You should be,” I reply, raising my voice so she can hear me in the other room. “You barely ate any breakfast. But let me do it. I can cut some vegetables and throw together some sandwiches, at least.”
“I don’t mind,” she calls back. “You know I like cooking. And I—”
The shocked yelp that follows nearly stops my heart.
“Bea?”
Heart pounding, I race into the kitchen. In the second it takes me to get there, I imagine blood dripping on the floor after Bea cut her hand. Or maybe she slipped. Fell.
Best case, she spotted a giant bug that’s trying to get an early jump on spring.
But this.
A man stands behind Bea, his arm wrapped tightly around her chest.
With his other, he holds a syringe to her neck.
Her eyes are huge. Terrified. Pleading.
“Indy,” she whispers.
“Shut up,” the man hisses. He squeezes her chest hard enough to make her gasp in pain.
Rage erupts inside me.
“Let her go,” I growl. From my belt holster, I pull out my Sig and aim it at him. “Now. Or I’ll shoot.”
He laughs. There’s something eerily familiar about it. Though I’m certain I’ve never seen this man before. “Go ahead. Shoot me. But I’ll inject your precious Beatrix with this”—he glances at the syringe—“and I really don’t think you want that.”
Bea starts shaking. Tears well up in her eyes. “Please,” she whispers. “Don’t.”
“It’s Black Cobweb,” he continues. “And with the amount in the syringe, it’ll work quickly. She’ll be dead in under a minute. Probably half that, considering how small she is.”
My lungs seize.
“Leave her alone.” I cock the trigger. “You have a problem, take it up with me.”
He sneers. “That’s not how it’s going to work. Because I have a problem with both of you. Nosy Beatrix and her interfering boyfriend. You fucked everything up. And now both of you are going to pay.”
Tears spill down Bea’s cheeks. “Go,” she pleads. “Indy, go. He’ll hurt you, too.”
My gaze snaps to hers. “I’m not leaving you.”
“No, you’re not.” The man—fuck, who is he—grins. “You’re both coming with me.”
“No.” My refusal is immediate. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
“But she is.” He shoves Bea forward. She takes a stumbling step. The needle pricks her skin, and a tiny spot of red appears.
“NO!” I roar. It’s all I can do to keep myself from lunging at them. “Don’t touch her with that!”
“Then do what I fucking say!” he snaps. Anger reddens his face. “If you don’t want me injecting her with this right fucking now. I’d rather wait, but if I kill her now, that’ll work, too.”
Bile rises in my throat.
Icy terror seeps into me.
I thought I knew what fear felt like.
He wants her alive, a small voice of logic reminds me. Or he would have killed her already.
Maybe so. But the syringe is right there. And while I don’t know if it actually has Black Cobweb in it, I can’t risk it, either.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “You’re going to put down your gun. And your phone.”
Bea whimpers.
Anger ignites into incandescent rage.
“Put it down!”
Fuck.
The way he’s holding her, and with the syringe right there—taking a shot is too risky. If he moves, I’ll hit her instead. Or he could inject her with whatever drug he has, and if it’s Black Cobweb…
“We’re going out to my car,” he says. “All of us. Nice and quiet. Try anything, and I’ll push the plunger. She’ll be dead. You won’t be able to do anything about it.”
Fuck.
Bea looks at me. She’s crying. My heart feels like it’s being ripped from my body. “Go,” she begs. “Please. Just go.”
“No.” There is no way I’m leaving her. Not now. Not ever.
As I slowly set my gun on the counter, the man smiles triumphantly. “Now your phone. No sudden moves.”
“I’m staying with you,” I tell Bea. “It’s going to be okay.”
The asshole laughs. “If it makes you feel better to think that.”
From the look in his eyes, he thinks he’s won.
But he hasn’t. Not even close.
I may have to concede this battle. But the war is far from over.