The bright white bedding, the camera in the corner and the studio light tell me everything I need to know. He’s planning to film himself and Jess. If that gun wasn’t pointing at me, I’d be spilling Lucas’s blood all over that pristine bed. Why hadn’t I been more cautious when meeting the man? I ask myself for the billionth time. Because Jess has messed with your mind.
Still, I have Lucas in front of me which is more than I could say before. It’s far better to have your enemy in front of you rather than sneaking around and cutting brake lines, surely? Even if he is holding a gun.
“You’re going to film her?” I prompt. It’s not every day you deal with a gunman, even in my profession, and especially in England. Gun crime tends to be limited to the gangs. But keeping him talking seems the best way to distract him. If I can get that barrel pointed away from me for long enough, I’ll take a chance.
He turns back to me, a gleam entering his gaze. I suspect he’s imagining every sick and twisted thing he’s going to do to her and my stomach curdles.
“Yes. It’s going to have… a very special ending. Jess is going to regret turning me down very, very much.”
“Special ending?”
“You ever heard of the term ‘snuff’?”
Coldness drenches me, seeping under my skin and wrapping itself around my heart. “You’re going to kill her?”
“Yes. Fuck her and then kill her and have it all on camera.”
“You killed that girl didn’t you?”
“She was more a trial run.” He smirks. “Told you’d she regret it, didn’t I? So you see, I don’t really care if I have to shoot you. One more death won’t make much difference but I don’t really want to mess up this room yet.”
The stark white bedding becomes all the more sinister when I imagine Jess’s blood marring it. Before I realize what I’ve done, I’m on my feet and barrelling toward Lucas. No pain comes, as anticipated. No gun shot. Only the smack of flesh on flesh as I slam into his stomach and take him to the ground.
“Never,” I grind out as I bring my fist across his face. The crunch of bone and warm splatter of blood does little to appease me anger. I can’t help a sadistic grin when the man struggles to get out from under me, still tightly clutching the gun.
Somehow the slippery fucker wriggles out from beneath me and slams the gun into my arm, the one still recovering from the accident. I release a hiss and fight to gain superiority again but he keeps using the butt of the rifle to hit out and I have to release him to fend off the blows. Then the wood connects with the side of my head and everything goes a white. I sag and roll to one side. Peering up through the mist crowding my vision, my heart sinks when Lucas comes to his feet and towers over me. I picture Jess and her hurt expression. I hope she forgives me. If I never see her again, I hope she forgives me.
Lucas takes the time to tie my hands together with some red rope—presumably something he’d intended to use on Jess. He loops the rope through the radiator, the metal cold against my hands. My sprained arm twinges in protest. Why hasn’t he killed me yet? I guess he’s still hoping Jess will make appearance. I can’t help but grin then. Mitch and Connor will protect her for as long as it takes. They should be watching over her now and they’ll do whatever is needed to bring Lucas to justice.
A footstep sounds on the outer stair, ringing against the metal and stalling my breath. Then another. Cramps of dread strangle my insides. There’s no way it should be, but I can’t help think… I lean my head back against the wall while my tender arm throbs. It can’t be her. Please, God. Don’t let it be her. Lucas grins and I stare at the door, unable to look away, unable to do anything. Powerless.
Several more footsteps and Lucas flashes a grin at me. “Let’s surprise her, shall we.”
He flicks off the light, throwing the room into darkness. Only the faint dusting of light through the open window allows me to track Lucas’s movements as he positions himself by the door, rifle in hand.
The door opens letting in a sliver of orange glow from the street. “Hunter?”
“Run, Jess!” But it’s too late. Jagged pain shoots through my heart. I failed her.
Her scream as Lucas lunges for her tears through me. When he flicks on the light, he has her pinned against him. He juggles the gun and thrusts it into her side while his other hand comes across her mouth. Jess’s gaze connects with mine and she sobs against his hand.
I curl my tied hands into fists, aware I’ve signed the death warrant for both of us. “I’m sorry, princess,” I murmur.
***
Jess
Hunter’s bruised and battered face, his bound hands and the wash of despair in his expression force another sob out of my throat, barely quashed by Lucas’s sweaty palm. The uncomfortable jab of metal against my ribs tells me all I need to know about the situation.
We’re in big trouble.
Lucas drags me backward and shoves me onto the bed. “If you move,” he barks, “I’ll kill him.” He motions with the rifle toward Hunter.