It is.
Even though I knew I could’ve called in a kidnapping in progress and given them the location of Adrian’s vehicle, I wanted to do this on my own. It was my own risk, a gamble I didn’t exactly want to take with Brie’s life when I had no idea what state of mind Adrian was in, but there was no reason to bring unnecessary attention to his current predicament. As far as the world knew, Adrian Morningstar was an upstanding citizen, and for all intents and purposes, we needed him to still appear to be that man. If the media got wind of this, who knows what the hell would happen?
Hell, who knows how he’d react if he was aware he was being chased? The last thing Brie needs is for Adrian to get spooked by the cops. He’s an unstable fuck, and there’s no telling what he’s thinking right now. Not to mention what the hell he might be on.
He knows and he thinks he’s protecting her.
The reminder is enough to chill me to the bone. What the hell does he know, exactly? And who does he think he’s protecting her from? Me? Or someone else?
Still, part of me had a feeling he wouldn’t hurt her. At least, not intentionally. I’ve seen the tape. Even as he tied her hands and led her down the tunnel, he wasn’t forceful. He movements were cautious, his touch easy, and when he lifted her and placed her in the trunk, he did it with a gentleness not of someone wishing to inflict harm. And then, when he closed it, he placed his hands on the lid and bowed his head. His chest heaved as if he were taking a deep breath or releasing a heavy sigh. Reading his body language, I gathered that he was conflicted about what he was going to do.
So why was he doing it? And what, exactly, was it?
It’s just another one in the long list of questions that has piled up tonight. I need answers, and I need them quickly. I’m running out of time. First things first though. More than anything, I need to get to Brie. Everything else can come after that.
The closer I get to the sirens, the more my heart pounds, practically threatening to beat out of my chest. As the sounds increase, I realize that it’s because they’re no longer moving. When I glance down, I see that the dot has also ceased movements, which can only mean one of two things. He willingly stopped or he was forced to. Either way, it means Brie is close.
My heart ceases to beat and my lungs fail as I hit my brakes. After throwing the car door open, I rush to the edge of the caution tape and try to push my way past, but I’m stopped before I can get to the bridge and assess the situation.
“Sir!” a young police officer shouts in my face, his hands gripping my shoulders. I have at least four inches and twenty pounds on the guy, but the last thing I need is to be placed in the back of a cop car right now. “Please stay behind the tape. We have an active scene right now.”
A small crowd has gathered, and I glance around, knowing that anyone could be among them, watching with a careful eye, studying my reaction. I struggle for a moment then let my shoulders collapse in defeat before I fall to my knees.
“My girlfriend was in that car,” I announce.
The crowd gasps as sympathy flashes in the officer’s expression. To the outside world, I’m a boyfriend who’s filled with grief, expecting the worst but praying for the best.
I wish that’s all I were. So much more rides on this—on both of their survivals.
The officer lifts the tape and gestures me under. Quickly, I scramble to my feet and comply. He points to a spot at the edge of the scene and directs me there. After thanking him profusely, I get in position and force myself to watch and wait.
Flashing red, blue, and white lights adorn the scene and nearly blind my vision while I watch as she’s pulled from the water. A sense of helplessness washes over me as I take a step forward to witness the paramedics begin to perform CPR on her. I’m fixed in my spot as they work on her, and I inch forward as they load her onto a stretcher, wheeling her towards the ambulance.
My ears strain to hear something, anything, like what her condition is, where they are taking her, and what her chances are. I try to watch her chest, and my heart falls as I see that it’s unmoving. I didn’t know just how much it meant to me to see that tiny yet significant sign of life until now. Now that it’s been taken from her. Now that she may be taken from me.
Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and silently plead for her to do the same. Just breathe, dammit, I will to her as if the sheer force of my thoughts can somehow travel the distance between us and force the air into her lungs. Hell, if I could do it myself, I would.
Yet hope is lost when I force my eyes open and nothing’s changed. As the paramedics continue to assess her, they quickly load her into the ambulance, and the back door slams shut. The sound echoes in my brain with such finality, and the fear of losing her starts to truly seep in. The only hope I can cling to is the fact that she’s not in a body bag. At least, not yet.
My head hangs, shame and remorse filling me. I promised to protect her. And what did I do? I let her down.
I should’ve known that it would end up like this. I should’ve seen it coming. Yet my mind was clouded as my days and nights, and soon my heart, were filled with her and she was all I could see. I let my guard down, and this is where it got me. Where it got us.
I never got to tell her the truth.
I never got to tell her how I feel.
I will never forgive myself if I never get the chance.
And I will spend the rest of my days hunting him down. When I find him, I will kill him.
Because for her? I’d do anything.
Just as I turn from the scene, my cell phone rings.
“Yeah, boss?” I ask, wincing at my raw, scratchy voice.
“Is it done?”