“Stay here,” Holbrook instructed as he pulled on his jeans.
“Like hell!” I fired back, grabbing the first items of clothing I laid my hands on which happened to be my panties and Holbrook’s shirt.
He shot me a sharp look, but I set my face to its most stubborn setting.
“Alright,” he sighed. “Stay close behind me.”
Sticking close to his back, I followed him out into the hallway, flinching each time a shot went off outside or Samson’s howl split the air. The sound of gunfire was interspersed with frantic shouts and bone chilling screams that cut off with terrifying suddenness. With each successive scream, the gunshots became less frequent, until they stopped altogether. Nauseous tension lay as a leaden ball in the pit of my stomach by the time we reached the front door.
Unbolting the door, Holbrook turned to look at me over his shoulder and said, “Wait here.”
“Are you serious?” I squeaked.
“Yes. I need to check on the security detail and I need you to stay here,” he said, his body singing with tension.
“No way. I’m not just going to stand here and wait for Samson to saunter over and gut me.”
“Riley, please. Just this once, will you do as I say?” he pleaded, the earnestness in his voice giving me pause.
Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded and watched from the doorway as he padded down the driveway, sticking close to the line of winter bare trees and bushes, his Glock drawn and in a ready position. The blowing wind ruffled his hair, but he paid it no mind, creeping forward in slow, but precise movements. Errant snowflakes had started to dance on the wind, signaling the approach of a storm that I could sense in the crisp air.
From my vantage point, I could just make out the front end of one of the security detail’s cars parked at the end of the driveway. The car’s headlights pierced the darkness in twin beams, but did little more than illuminate the ground a few feet in front. Holbrook’s steps slowed as he approached the car, bringing his gun up. And then his posture sagged, his aim wavering for a moment. He moved swiftly as he came back towards me, the tightness in his face amplifying my feeling of dread.
“What is it? What’s happened?” I asked, trying to ignore the way my voice shook.
“Go back in the house,” he said, already reaching for the cell phone in his pocket.
“What’s going on?”
“Just go back in the fucking house. Now,” he ordered, the steely edge to his eyes sending a jolt of fear through me. “Go into the closet in my room, the code for the safe is 6398, take out one of the guns, and stay there. Don’t move until I come to get you.”
“W-what? What’s happening? Where’s the security detail?” I asked, my words rising in volume and pitch as I fought against the crushing wave of terror that was weighing down on me.
“They’re dead, Riley. They’re all dead. We’re alone until back-up arrives.”
“He... he killed them all didn’t he?”
He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to. The sadness on his face was answer enough.
“Riley please. I can’t do this if I’m worrying about your safety. Just do as I ask.” His fingers were warm against my wind chilled cheek, his thumb swiping away the fat tears rolling down my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Now go. In the closet, get the gun and wait for me. No heroics.”
“Please be careful,” I begged as I turned my face into his hand and pressed a kiss against his palm. I prayed that it wouldn’t be the last kiss I ever gave him.
“I will. Go.”
Terrified, I ran back into the house, my feet thumping loudly against the floor. Loki was hunkered down under the bed, watching everything with wide violet eyes whose pupils had shrunk down to narrow slits.
“Up,” was all I said, holding out my arms towards him as I approached the bed. In a surprisingly graceful move, the enormous cat slunk out from beneath the bed and leapt into my arms, his claws digging into my skin through my shirt as he clung to me.