Begging fate to give him another chance to hold Polly, Austin aimed the wrath he could no longer contain at Reitman. “Letting her go was the smartest decision you ever made. One more second of that gun in her face might have signed your death warrant.” Austin took a menacing step forward. “There’s still a chance to sign it, if you don’t pull that trigger soon. I’m running out of reasons not to kill you with my bare hands.”
“So eager to die, aren’t you?” Reitman’s confusion was rife with blood lust as he caressed the trigger with his index finger. “Suits me.”
Reitman pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Austin released a pent-up breath, silently thanking Erin for remembering to remove the bullets from the gun Reitman kept in his glove compartment. “Maybe next time,” Austin murmured to Reitman, just as the police van’s engine roared to life and burned rubber onto the street. Another vehicle blocked the far end of the road, giving Reitman no option for escape.
Using Reitman’s confusion to his advantage, Austin scooped up the bag of money and left the scene at a brisk pace, ignoring the insults being leveled at him via his ex-partner, who was currently being wrestled to the sidewalk by Derek. No time to stay and enjoy the sight, however. He had work to do.
…
Polly stared at the scuffed-up hospital wall, jolting when a voice droned over the hospital loudspeaker. What am I doing here? I should go home. Erin had been released—how long ago? At least an hour. She’d been diagnosed with a mild concussion, and the doctor had wanted to keep her in the hospital overnight for observation, spurring an absolute panic attack on Erin’s end. Yeah. Being kept anywhere really wasn’t the escape artist’s thing. After repeated promises from Connor—who’d looked on the verge of an anxiety attack himself—that his Navy SEAL background qualified him to care for his girlfriend’s concussion at home, Erin was discharged.
Throughout the entire scene, Polly had been a presence for Erin, but she’d been useless, only able to see Austin staring down the barrel of a gun. You want to put a bullet between my eyes? Cries of denial had risen repeatedly in her throat at the memory, her phone remaining hatefully silent inside her purse. Not delivering any news. Not telling her if Austin was still alive. Until finally, finally, the phone had rung.
Polly had been terrified to answer upon seeing Derek’s number. No. She wanted Austin. She wanted her conceited, inappropriate, secretly amazing Austin. Just before the call could go to voicemail, she’d answered. When Derek told her that Reitman had been taken into custody, she’d nearly collapsed, thinking it was confirmation that he’d shot Austin. Is he dead? Is he dead? She remembered her words bouncing off the shiny linoleum hallway floors outside Erin’s hospital room.
Her body had surrendered to relief when Derek explained that Reitman’s gun hadn’t been loaded. That Austin had been suited up with a wire and sent in as a trade for her and Erin. Six hours later, no one could find Austin, nor had anyone heard from him. There’d been no mention of the money from Derek, which meant Austin had it. He’d taken it and gone.
Now there was a very real insecurity attempting to break through her utter joy over Austin being alive. It was taking all of her concentration not to let the insecurity win. If she stood up and went home, walking and boarding the train would require her to let her mental guard down. Which was why she was frozen to her chair, feeling rather than seeing hospital guests passing by like fuzzy specters.
Austin hadn’t taken the money and left her behind. She couldn’t allow it to be a possibility. But the fear remained, growing stronger. Gaining speed. She felt painfully alone, trapped inside some undiscovered realm where everything was the opposite of what she’d known twenty-four hours prior.
Sitting there would solve nothing, however, so Polly stood on shaky legs, traversed the hospital corridor, and walked into the pitch black of predawn Chicago. The buzz from the fluorescent hospital lights stayed with her as she walked. And walked. Without any real idea of where she hoped to end up. She needed to end up in Austin’s arms. She needed him to be standing outside the hospital doors with an explanation, but when he didn’t appear, she began looking for him on every street corner. At every bus stop. Passersby were few and far between at this time of the morning, but she double-checked to make sure none of them were Austin, waiting for her in a disguise, with a concise explanation for where he’d gone.
When Polly realized where she’d ended up, she started walking faster. Their hotel. Perhaps he hadn’t known where to find her. Perhaps he was waiting in their room. Even as her brain dismissed that hopeful logic, she was jogging through the lobby and riding the elevator up, fumbling in her pocket for the wallet to extricate the key card as it ascended. Somehow before she’d even turned the door handle, she knew Austin wasn’t on the other side. There was no electricity, no intuition or pumping excitement she always experienced when he was close.