Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
NATHAN
Ihear the door long before I see Harrison.
Granted, my eye is swollen shut so that makes my vision difficult enough.
Thea’s cries faded long ago and I’d vomited hearing what they were doing to her.
I should’ve known better than to believe someone like Harrison that he wouldn’t touch her, even if we did provide him vague pieces of information.
I had no idea what she did or didn’t say to him, I could only hope that our stories aligned.
Unfortunately for me, Harrison wasn’t the most forthcoming about what that information was or was not.
An easy tactic for him, to see if we were telling the truth. It gives him the power he craves.
“Well, I must give credit where credit is due.” His voice comes from behind me.
“What did you do to her?” I don’t bother to let him finish his thought.
“Oh, so you were conscious long enough to hear the melodic music she was making.”
I lunge forward, the clots that had formed at my wrists busting open as the chair’s restraints dig into me again. I would tear my fucking arms off it meant I could get to him. “What. Did. You. Do?” The words scrape out of my throat.
Harrison doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks slowly around the small room, glancing at the cracked concrete walls like he’s admiring the architecture.
“Pain is fascinating,” he says as if we’re having a casual conversation.
“Some people break immediately. Others hold out longer than you’d expect. You’ve both exceeded my expectations.”
“You’re a dead man.”
“Yes, I hear that quite a lot.”
A sound carries faintly through the crack beneath the door that separates Thea and I. A broken gasp. My stomach twists so violently it makes me dizzy. “You touch her again and I swear to god—”
“To God?” Harrison interrupts. “If you think God is anywhere near a place like this, Nathan, you’re even more naive than I thought.”
“I will kill you. You’re a coward. Hiding behind a locked door because you know the second I get my hands on you—”
He laughs. Amused. Not offended. “Oh, I’m not hiding.”
He steps closer instead, the overhead light catching the dark stains across the sleeves of his shirt. My vision narrows on it instantly; it’s blurry but I can make it out. Blood. Her blood. My chest splinters.
“You’re hurting someone who can’t fight back,” I continue, my voice shaking with fury now. “Someone who walked in here unarmed.”
“Oh spare me, Nathan. She’s not as helpless or as harmless as you’re making her out to be.
She knew exactly what she was doing. Sure, she’s unarmed physically, but mentally?
She is remarkably resilient.” He clicks his tongue.
“You know, I want to believe what she told me is the truth, but I do think she’s trying to misdirect me all the same.
Very clever, actually. Claimed that you two got a tip off from someone within my agency.
” I don’t react. I don’t breathe. “Unfortunately, until I can verify that information, we’re at an impasse. ”
“If you go back in there—”
“What?” he asks mildly.
I stare at him.
“Oh, don’t tell me again. Let me guess, you’ll kill me?”
My voice comes out colder than I expect, but I’d tell him as many times as possible until it became true. “Yes.”
“You see, that’s the problem,” he says. “You’re both very committed to protecting someone. You” —he nods toward the door— “refuse to talk because you’re trying to protect her.” His gaze sharpens. “And she refuses to talk because she’s trying to protect someone else.”
My pulse stutters. “I only refuse to talk because you told me you wouldn’t touch her if I did. Something you did before you even gave me the chance.”
“I simply changed my mind.” He lifts his chin. “You gave me your word.”
“My word was contingent on cooperation. You’re still breathing, however, which I’d say is a fair exchange. The reality of the situation is that pain clarifies priorities, and yours have become painstakingly clear. Eventually, everyone decides what matters most.”
My throat tights. “You think I’m going to break.”
“I think—” He tuts. “You already are.”
The silence stretches between us as he reaches for the handle. My heart lurches violently. “Don’t.”
He glances back. “You have something to say?” he asks.
Another faint sound leaks beneath the door, barely there, and just before real fear claws its way up my throat, a distant gunshot cracks somewhere in the building.
Then another, and another. Shooting erupts from down the hallway and Harrison’s head tilts slightly. He almost looks…amused.
“Well, just when I thought the night couldn’t get more interesting, it stands that I was mistaken.
If you’ll excuse me.” He straightens his suit and walks out the door into the hallway, acting as if he’s immortal, and a part of me can only hope he gets stuck in the crossfire, even though I want to be the one to put a bullet in his brain.
The noise only continues to intensify as Harrison’s guards yell orders, and what sounds like guests in the main venue area begin to panic.
The guard that was in Thea’s room exits and doesn’t spare a glance in my direction as he exits the room as well.
Curse these fucking shackles. If only I could get to her this would be the perfect opportunity to get us out.
Despite that ultimately being Fletcher’s plan, he is still only one man, and while I don’t doubt his ability after everything we went through for Dylan, no single situation is the same.
Another shot echoes this time, ricocheting down the hallway.
More shouts as several pairs of boots thunder past the doorway.
A body slams into the wall. I test the shackles again, slower this time even though I know it’s no use.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath just as a painful howl sounds from the other side of the door, followed by a slurry of words I can’t comprehend and retreating footsteps as they rush back in the opposite direction.
The silence is sudden. More startling than the chaos that occurred just moments before.
I freeze, every muscle going rigid as the door handle shakes once, twice, before the door swings open.
It takes a moment for my eyesight to adjust to the individual standing on the other side of the doorway due to my injury, and temporarily I think that Fletcher must have failed.
But just as the thought enters my mind, I recognize the low resonance of his voice as he says, “Miss me?”
Relief hits me so hard it makes me dizzy. “Jesus Christ, Fletcher. It took you long enough.”
He steps inside, pulling a keyring from a guard’s belt as he moves toward me. “You try storming a party of twenty-plus private security alone,” he emphasizes, “and see how punctual it makes your ass.”
“Where the hell is he?” a voice shouts somewhere distant in the hallway.
“I don’t know! He came out of nowhere!” another responds.
They’re still searching. Of course they are. They wouldn’t just let something like this go. But if that’s the case, what was with the silence?
Fletcher drops to one knee in front of my chair, fiddling with the keys as he finds the right ones to fit the locks. “Hold still,” he mutters.
“As if I have a choice.” I glare at him until he finally picks the correct one. Another voice echoes somewhere farther down the corridor. “Check the rooms!”
“They’re getting closer,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” Fletcher says with a scoff. “That’s generally what happens when you start shooting people.”
The last lock finally clicks and I stand up, suppressing the wave of dizziness that threatens to overtake me. I suck in a breath as pins and needles shoot through my body before I gain my equilibrium back.
“What happened out there? It sounded like half the building was coming down,” I ask.
“Whatever got the job done.”
The shouts are getting closer as the echo of boots thundering surpasses the door. “How many?”
“Did you not hear me the first time? At least twenty. But now I’m thinking my math was off.”
“And you thought taking them on by yourself was a good idea?”
He’s the one that glares at me this time. “I didn’t say it was a good idea, just the only one. Now are we done with twenty questions, or would you like me to secure you back in these shackles?”
Never fails to be a smartass at the worst of times.
“…found blood in the east corridor!”
My head snaps toward the door. Blood. Fletcher pauses for a brief moment before walking towards Thea’s door.
“Is it yours?” I ask.
“Does it look like it’s mine?”
I begin to shake my head in disbelief before he continues, “No, Harrison. I got a shot at him before his boys figured out what was happening. Hit him in the shoulder. Maybe—hopefully—clipped something important, but it’s kind of hard to tell when you have multiple men trying to put bullets in you at the same time. ”
“And?”
“And, what? Do you really want to hash this out right now while they’re still looking for us—well, me.
And he dropped. But then they dragged his bleeding ass out the back before I could finish the job.
” He grabs the handle to Thea’s room, pulling it open, and anything I had to say dies on my tongue as I take her in. She’s hurt. Badly.
“Thea!” I rush to her side, cradling her face in my hands.
“Fletcher, get these ropes off of her,” I bark as I try to cover her from anyone’s eyes but my own.
She’s got cuts and bruises all over—from her face, her chest, they’re blossoming on her arms and legs—and I see red.
The bottoms of the pantsuit she was wearing have been torn to shreds, and she’s bare underneath indicating they removed her underwear at some point.
At that moment, I swear I will become their worst living nightmare.
A breathing promise of retribution they will feel in every shadow, every footstep, every second they have left.
And I will leave a reminder on each of their bodies that some men aren’t meant to be crossed—and that I’m one of them.
“N…Nat…” Thea groans.
“I’m here, sugar, I got you. We’re getting you out of here,” I whisper into her head as Fletcher cuts the last of the rope.
“You ready?” he asks me, and in any other moment I would lock in with him but all I can think about is getting Thea home, so all I do is give him a slight dip of my chin as we step back out into the lion’s den.