Chapter Nineteen Lena #2
“Fucking hell, beautiful girl.” His hand fists in the back of my hair, but he doesn’t pull me down on him as I sink over him, taking him all the way back.
My gag reflex engages, but I don’t stop. I want to choke on him. I want to feel helpless and at his mercy in this room.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say when I pull off to catch my breath. Sinking over him again, I keep my eyes up and on his, working him with my lips and tongue.
“No, baby. This room is for work. I’ve never fucked anyone here.”
Good. That’s the right answer. I don’t want to think about him having sex with anyone else, ever. The thought makes me nauseated.
I raise up on my knees, wrap both hands around him, and work him hard. His hand tightens in my hair, and then he does urge me down farther.
“You can take all of me. Relax your throat, breathe through your nose. That’s my good girl.”
Holy shit, my pussy is pulsing with need, but this is for him. I don’t need him to fuck me. I need to get him off. I want to taste him, feel him come undone.
I hollow my cheeks, and he groans as his fingertips ghost down my neck. And when I add just the tiniest bit of teeth, he starts to come down my throat, and I swallow every fucking drop.
“Jesus Christ, Lena. Fuck, your mouth is . . . fuck.”
He pulls me to my feet and kisses me, not seeming to care at all about what I was just doing, and then he brushes my hair back from my face.
“Your mouth is going to be the fucking death of me. What brought that on?”
“You look sexy as hell in here, big guy.” I lean in to plant a kiss on his chest. “Okay, what am I shooting?”
He blows out a breath as he tucks himself away, but rather than turn to help me choose a gun, he pulls me into his arms and hugs me close, and I soak it in.
God, I love his hugs.
“You’re the sweetest fucking thing,” he whispers by the shell of my ear, and then he pulls away and gestures to the room. “And your mouth is fucking kryptonite. What do you want to shoot?”
“I don’t care.” I nibble my bottom lip, shifting from foot to foot.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you nervous, Rebel?”
“The shooting isn’t my favorite.” I shrug, as if it’s no big deal. “But I understand why I’m learning. You go ahead and choose for me.”
“First, you decide whether you want to shoot a handgun or rifle.”
I haven’t shot any of the rifles yet. I’ve managed to talk him out of them. He used a rifle of some kind on that horrible night, and I can’t bring myself to do it.
“You’ve got this, Lena.” His voice is tender, so different from how it usually is while we’re training.
“Handgun.” I turn so he won’t see my lower lip quiver.
I don’t apologize anymore because he told me not to, but I’m still not okay. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.
“Rifle it is.”
“You said I could choose.”
“We’re going to get you past this fear of yours.” His chin is firm as he pulls an automatic rifle off the wall and walks toward me with it.
I back away.
His eyes narrow.
I do not want to touch that weapon.
“No.”
“Lena, you’ve got this. It’s not any different from any of the dozen handguns you’ve shot since you got here. This one is just bigger.”
“I won’t do it.” I shake my head and turn to leave, and then I’m suddenly in his arms. He’s wrapped around me from behind, kissing my head, trying to soothe me, but everything inside me is shaking.
“You are so strong, baby. You’re in control here, not the weapon. It won’t hurt you.”
“Please don’t make me do it.”
“I won’t make you do anything.” He turns me around so he can see my face, and his own expression falls. “Please don’t cry, Rebel.”
“I’m not.” I sniff, but I refuse to acknowledge the tears running down my cheeks.
“You’ll feel so much better after you shoot it. You’ll take that power back.”
I swallow hard because I want that. I don’t want to be afraid.
“You can’t be there.” I shake my head, and he frowns down at me.
“I’m not leaving your side.”
“I’m not leaving your side, Blackbird. You’ll be safe.”
“What if you’re there and I shoot it wrong, and you get hurt?” The last few words are barely audible, but he hears me. He lifts my chin and kisses me tenderly.
“You won’t hurt me.”
I start to shake my head, but he holds me firm.
“Baby, you literally can’t shoot me. I’m fine. Do you want me to shoot it first, so you can see that it’s safe?”
I nod slowly, and he kisses my forehead.
“Okay, I’ll show you. We’ll be shooting down the range, at a target. Just like always. There’s no way that the bullet can come back to hurt either of us.”
I’m not convinced.
But I follow him out of the armory, and we walk into the range, grabbing eye and ear protection before we walk down to a lane.
“It’s the same concept as when you’re handling a pistol. Feet planted and spread. Keep your core engaged.”
He’s going through all the instructions, but I don’t hear any of the words. I can’t take my eyes off the rifle.
Then, he raises it and points it downrange and pulls the trigger.
Bang! Bang!
“No!” I scream as Gideon is suddenly on top of me, pushing me to the ground. He and Richie have their own weapons drawn, but there’s so much chaos, screams, running people.
“I can’t see the shooter,” Richie yells to Gideon.
“It came from the front entrance.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
More shots are fired, and suddenly, the guys are carrying me through the room toward the back door.
But then another shooter enters that way and starts shooting people too.
We’re trapped.
“We’re going to let them start working the room,” Gideon says, sounding so damn calm. How is he calm? This is all my fault. I just had to see this new exhibit, and now we’re in the middle of a mass shooting.
I’m sobbing, clinging to Gideon as he and Richie make a plan. There’s so much screaming, so much blood.
I can smell the coppery scent in the air, and I can hear the whimpers, the cries for mercy, as the two men continue to shoot the black rifles in their hands.
Oh, God, we’re going to die.
“We’re not going to die,” Richie says. I must have said that out loud. “He’s moved from the door.”
“Move,” Gideon says as he points his gun and shoots. “One down.”
“You killed one?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer me. He and Richie rush me out the back door and into the darkness. Into the rain.
There’s a roar behind us and then hard, fast steps, as if someone is running after us.
“Take her,” Gideon shouts, turning to the door we just ran out of. “Get her out of here!”
“No!” I’m clinging to Gideon. “I won’t leave you here.”
“Go with Richie.” He looks my way just for a second. “Get the fuck out of here, Lena.”
Bang! Bang!
Gideon’s body jerks, and then he falls with me on top of him. Richie fires, taking out the second gunman, and then he pulls me off Gideon, but I can’t stop screaming.
He’s bleeding. The rain washes the blood into a pool around him, and I wiggle out of Richie’s hold and fall back over Gideon.
“No! No no no. You’re okay. It’s okay. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, it’s going to be fine.” His voice is raspier, and he’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t seem like he’s close to passing out. “I need you to get out of here, Lena. Let Richie get you somewhere safe.”
I can hear sirens in the background.
“I’m not leaving you. We’ll get you in an ambulance.” I rip off my jacket, and then my sweater, and wrap the sweater around his leg to help stop the bleeding.
Richie isn’t trying to get me to leave.
“The threat is gone,” Richie says grimly. He’s talking into his phone. “Two down. James was hit. Blackbird is secure.”
“Shit, I’m going to pass out,” Gideon says. “I don’t want you to see this, Lena. Go with Richie.”
But I’m shaking my head, unwilling and unable to move away.
And then he keeps his promise, the way he always does. He passes out, bleeding in an alley in the rain, and it’s all my fault.