Too Late

“Not yet, man.”

I beat my fist on the steering wheel. “Did anyone go through the front door today?” I’m yelling my words, no matter how hard I try to remain calm.

“No. Not since you left this morning.”

“Go around back!” I yell. “Check the windows!”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Now! Check the windows while I’m on the phone with you!”

He clears his throat. “You hired me for surveillance. I don’t even have a gun, man. No way I’m going back there if it’s got you this worried.”

I grip the phone tighter in my hand and scream at him. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

The line goes dead.

“Fucking son of a bitch!”

I slam on the gas and power through a red light. I’m two blocks away now. I’m almost through the intersection when it happens.

My whole body jerks with the impact. I saw the eighteen-wheeler out of the corner of my eye, and then I didn’t. My airbag deploys. My car begins spinning. I know it’s all happening faster than anyone witnessing it can possibly even comprehend, but the crash goes in slow motion for me.

It drags. On and on and fucking on.

By the time my car comes to a stop, the blood is already rushing into my eye. I hear horns and people yelling. I reach down for my seatbelt, but I can’t move my right arm. It’s broken.

I get my seatbelt unbuckled with my left arm. I press my shoulder into the driver’s side door and push it open.

I wipe the blood off my forehead.

“Sir!” a man yells from behind me. “Sir, you need to stay in the car!”

Someone grabs my shoulder and tries to stop me. “Get off me!” I yell. I try to regain my bearings long enough to see which direction I’m facing. I catch sight of the convenience store on my right. I turn left and I push through the crowd beginning to form around my car. People are yelling at me to stop running, but I can’t run fast enough.

Two blocks.

I can do that in less than a minute.

The entire time I’m sprinting toward my apartment, I make excuses for why she’s not answering the phone. I pray I’m wrong, that I’m overreacting. But I know Sloan. Something is wrong. She wouldn’t not answer her phone.

She wouldn’t not take the trash out right at twelve.

Something is wrong.

When I finally reach the complex, I’m not in a vehicle, so the sensor on the fucking gate doesn’t open for me. I look around for a door to walk through, but it’s locked. I back up several feet and then sprint for the gate, somehow pulling myself over with my good arm. I don’t land on my feet. I land on my right fucking shoulder and the pain shoots through me like a bolt of lightning. It knocks the breath out of me. I’m forced to take a second until I can take in air again. Then I’m back on my feet.

I see Thomas, the surveillance guy. He’s standing outside of his car. When he sees me, his eyes widen at the sight of me, and then he throws his hands up. “I’m sorry, man, I was about to go check on her.” He backs up and I can’t help myself. I punch him right in the throat with my good hand. I keep walking as he falls against his car door.

“Stupid fuck!” I yell over my shoulder. I sprint toward the apartment and go straight past the front door, around the side of the building, to the wall our living room and bedroom windows line. I run up to the living room window and it takes all I have not to scream out her name when I see the lock on the inside of the window.

It’s unlatched.

I know instantly how it happened. The maintenance guy. It’s my own fucking fault. I should have been a step ahead of Asa. I don’t give myself time to think over it. I press my back against the wall next to the window and I try to listen.

I reach down to my side and I pull out my gun. I close my eyes and inhale.

I hear voices.

I hear Sloan’s voice. I want to cry a river knowing I’m not too late, but I’ll do that later. Right now, I inch over toward the window and try to peek inside. I can barely see anything because of the curtains.

Fuck.

My pulse is pounding. I can hear sirens in the distance and I have no idea if they’re coming here because Ryan called them or if they’re going to the wreck I just caused at the intersection. Either way, if I don’t do something in the next five seconds, whoever is inside this apartment will hear them.

And they’ll be forced to take action.

I drop to my knees and hold the gun in my left hand while I inch the window open with my right. I peek inside and I can see Sloan. I can also see someone else. His back is to the window. He laughs.

He fucking laughs, and I know instantly that it’s him. He’s in there with Sloan. He hasn’t hurt her yet. She’s standing in the kitchen.

If he hears the sirens, he will hurt her. He’ll panic and he’ll do something stupid. I don’t know how she has him this calm, but it doesn’t surprise me. My Sloan is smart as fuck.

I raise the window another inch. For half a second, Sloan makes eye contact with me.

Half a second.

A glance.

She drops her fork and I know she does it on purpose. The second she does it, she says, “Shit!” She bends over to pick it up. I raise the window a little higher as Asa is scooting back in the barstool. He’s walking around the bar for whatever reason. To make sure she’s not trying something? I lift my gun, barely able to grip the trigger with my right hand.

He takes the fork from her and tosses it in the sink and then hands her a new one. Right after she grabs it, she falls to the floor and screams, “Now!”

Before Asa can even comprehend what’s happening, I pull the trigger. I don’t even wait to see where it hit him. I push the window up and climb inside, running across our living room until I get to her. She’s crawling around the bar, toward me.

“Again!” she yells in desperation. “Please, Luke! Shoot him again!”

Asa is lying on the floor with his hand against his neck. Blood is rushing through his fingers, spilling down his arm. His chest is heaving up and down as he struggles to drag in breath. I aim the gun at him.

His eyes are wide and he glances around, looking for Sloan.

She’s standing behind me now, gripping the back of my shirt in fear. His eyes land on her. “Fucking whore,” he manages to mutter. “I lied. I hate your fucking lasagna.”

I pull the trigger.

Sloan screams and buries her face against my back.

I turn around and pull her against me. She’s crying, holding on to me with all the strength she has.

I can’t stand up anymore.

I grip the bar and lower us both to the floor. I pull her onto my lap and she curls up against me. I try to ignore the pain in my arm as I hold her. I press my face into her hair and I breathe her in. “Are you okay?”

She’s sobbing, but she manages to nod.

“Are you hurt?” I’m trying to inspect her, but she looks okay. I put my hand on her stomach and I close my eyes and exhale. “I’m so sorry, Sloan. I’m so sorry.” I feel like I failed her. I did everything I could to protect her and he somehow still got to her.

She wraps her arms tightly around my neck and I can feel her shaking her head. “Thank you.” She’s holding me as tight as she possibly can. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Luke.”

The sirens are directly outside now.

Someone is beating on the door.

Ryan climbs through the window and assesses the situation, then walks to the front door and unlocks it. Several uniformed officers file in, yelling orders at each other. One of them tries to address Sloan and me, but Ryan pushes him aside. “Give them a minute. Goddamn.”

They do. They give us several. I hold her until the medics come inside. I hold her while they check Asa’s pulse. I’m still holding her when one of them announces his time of death.

I’m still holding her when Ryan slides to the floor next to us.

“I saw your car,” he says, referring to the wreck. “You okay?”

I nod. “Did anyone get hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Just you, it looks like.”

Sloan pulls back and looks at me. “Oh my God, Luke.” She presses her palm against my head. “He’s hurt! Someone help him!”

She crawls off my lap and a medic rushes over. He looks at my head for a brief second. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

Ryan helps the medic lift me up off the floor. I grab Sloan’s hand as I’m passing her and she holds it with both of hers. She’s in front of me now, walking backward as she looks at me, frantic. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I wink at her. “Just a little fender bender. You can’t drown in Fred water if the cruise ship is full of salmon tacos.”

Sloan smiles and squeezes my hand.

Ryan groans and looks at one of the medics. “You need to check him for a concussion. He did this last time he was injured. Just started saying random stuff that didn’t make any sense.”