Booked to Kill, page 21
She yelped, pain erupting against the tender dip of her flesh above her hip.
Mason griped her bicep, pinching it until she squirmed against his hold. He held her tight against his chest. “Don’t do that again. Next time, when I shoot, I won’t miss.” He nuzzled his nose against the side of her neck, his breath warm and sticky.
Defeat crashed over her as he guided her through the parking garage and into the building. The truth of the moment made her knees buckle, but Mason’s grip kept her on her feet—moving forward.
If she disappeared inside the loft with Mason, she’d never make it out alive.
Chapter 25
Olivia darted her gaze around the wide hallway, willing someone to step out of their apartment. She’d always loved the quietness of the building—the way people kept to themselves. But not now. Now she’d give anything for a crowd of noisy people to pour into the hallway. She wanted to scream, to yell, to throw a toddler-sized tantrum to alert her neighbors to her plight. But the gun still wedged against her side kept her mouth shut.
Mason retrieved a key ring from the front pocket of his jeans and plunged the key in the lock.
Confusion broke through the fog of fear layering her brain. “How did you get a key?”
“I stole it,” he said it in an offhanded, easy way that made her skin crawl. “The last lady who stayed here put the key ring on the hook by the door. But is it really stealing when this place is ours anyway?”
Dread weighed her down as Mason opened the door to the loft with a flourish and ushered her inside.
“Ta-da!” Mason said, sweeping an arm in front of them.
Her jaw dropped, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. But nothing she could do would shield her from what waited for her. The scent of her perfume hung heavy in the air like a weighted cloud ready to burst. Curtains shielded the windows, making the dozens of flickering candles around the living room glow. Printed photos of Olivia were taped to the walls, and a fire roared in the hearth.
“Go in and look,” Mason said, excitement lifting each word. “Don’t you love it? I mean, I knew if we were going to make this our home, there’d have to be some changes. I couldn’t get rid of the furniture, or it might have drawn attention. But I added a few special touches. I really want you to see how much you are always on my mind. Even when we couldn’t be together.”
He pressed his hand against the small of her back, urging her forward.
She took another step inside, each spot her gaze landing on increasing her anxiety. Her head spun as she ran though her limited options. She had no phone, no one knew where she was, and an obsessed man with zero grasp on reality held her at gunpoint in some creepy little love nest he’d set up.
But Jack was out there. She’d sent him a message that would lead him to the gallery. He’d search for her, put together enough of the pieces to understand what had happened. And when he did, she would put away all her stupid doubts and tell him exactly how she felt.
Because if nothing else, Mason tearing apart each and every piece of her life and attempting to shove them together to fit some twisted image in his head showed her life was short. Spending even one second of her life sitting with doubts and insecurities was a silly waste of time. She’d lay her soul bare, then give Jack the space he needed to figure out his own heart.
If she made it out alive.
Not knowing what to say or do, she stared at the dancing flames in the hearth. A part of her wanted to switch over to survivor mode. To shut off her brain and just give in to whatever Mason demanded. He said he loved her, and even though she was certain he didn’t know what love really was, she was fairly positive he wouldn’t hurt her. As long as she didn’t run or struggle or fight.
A flash of metal snagged her attention, and she caught sight of the fire poker next to the decorative grate. Fight. That’s what she had to do, and now she had a weapon. She just needed to get to it.
Doing her best to quiet the flurry of aggressive butterflies in her stomach, she placed a hand on Mason’s arm. She struggled to keep her expression from broadcasting her disgust. “I like the candles. Gives everything a...romantic glow.”
Fluttering his eyes closed for a beat, he thumped his free hand over his heart. “Oh good. I was a little nervous. I mean, I know this place has some other memories for you. But I really do think we can make it exactly what we both want.”
She clenched her jaw at his mention of other. Meaning Dave. The man she’d shared this home with, her heart with. Anger swirled inside it, building up momentum with each passing second. She held on to the new emotion for dear life. Anger would fuel her desire for escape.
“I’m a little overwhelmed,” she said. “Today has been a lot. Can we sit?”
His brow crinkled with concern. “Sure. Whatever you need. Can I get you anything?”
The suggestion had her holding her breath. If she could convince him to get her a glass of water, she might have enough time to grab the poker. She cleared her throat. “I’m a little thirsty.”
His eyes lit up. “I have just the thing.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dining room. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne sat in the middle of the table. The crystal flutes she and Dave had used at their wedding beside it.
Fury boiled her blood. How dare this man destroy her life. Kill her husband. Terrorize innocent people. She had no doubt Jack would find his way to her, but there was no telling how long it would take. She couldn’t hold herself together much longer. Not when she was drowning in a tsunami of emotions and grasping wildly for something to hold on to in a desperate attempt to stay afloat.
And the one thing she needed to hold on to was the fireplace poker.
She gauged the distance between her and her intended weapon. The thick metal was no match for the gun Mason still held. If she could only get him to set it down for a minute. An idea formed. He’d need two hands to open the bottle. “Champagne sounds lovely.”
He hurried ahead, glancing over his shoulder with the boyish smile she used to admire. Now it made her stomach queasy. “Come on. It’s all chilled and ready to go.”
As soon as his attention went back to the ice bucket, she passed by the fireplace and circled the handle of the poker with her palm. She put her hands behind her back as she walked, keeping the slender weapon hidden. She stopped beside one of the dining room chairs, leaning against it to create a barrier.
Mason cast her a curious glance. “Why did you run from me? You ran and yelled for help. You hurt my feelings. I just want to love you like you deserve.”
The switch of emotions softened his face and made him look like a sad child. What happened to this man to twist him into something so dangerous? She couldn’t dwell on that now. She needed to answer his question in a way that made sense.
She drew in a shuddering breath. “Coming here threw me. I haven’t been inside the loft since a woman was killed. The thought of coming back inside scared me. I was confused...with the gun you had pointed at me and what happened at the gallery...” Her bottom lip trembled, and tears threatened to fall from her eyes. “I didn’t know what to expect. If you’d hurt me like you hurt everyone else.”
His face fell and he reached out to graze her jawline with his knuckles.
She tensed and her sweat-slicked palm slid against the handle. If he noticed it, she was screwed.
“The only way I’d ever hurt you is if you pushed me to. Everyone else?” He shrugged. “They had to be dealt with. Those people staying here, in our place. It was an invasion of privacy I couldn’t tolerate. And I couldn’t let your friends call the police. Please try to understand.”
She sniffed back her tears and tightened her grip on the poker. “I do. I really do. Now let’s pop that champagne. You even bought my favorite brand.” She hadn’t looked at the label to know if that was true, but the way his face lit up told her she’d pushed the right button.
“I knew it! Let’s not wait another second to celebrate.” He placed the gun on the table and scooped the dark green bottle from the bucket.
She tightened her grip on the poker until her tendons screamed with pain.
Mason wrapped one hand along the neck of the bottle and gripped the top with his other. “This might be loud,” he said with a grin.
She swung the poker in the air like a baseball bat and aimed for his head. The pointy edge whacked against his cheek, the impact vibrating up her arms and turning her stomach inside out.
A hiss of pain came from his mouth and the bottle crashed to the table. Mason fell forward.
A rush of adrenaline made her heart pound in her ears. She wanted to run but had to ensure he couldn’t follow. Her stomach rebelled at the blood oozing from his face, and the acidic taste of fear flooded her mouth. Steeling her nerve, she thrust the poker above her head and brought it down as hard as she could.
Before it hit his head, he snapped his arm up and caught the steel rod in his hand. Anger contorted his face into a mask of hate. Red invaded his cheeks clashing with the drops of blood dripping down to the floor.
Her breath caught in her throat. She dropped the poker and ran for the door. If she didn’t get away, he’d kill her. Terror clawed at her chest, but she raced ahead.
A feral growl from behind her clutched at her heart and moved her faster. “You bitch. You should have just let me love you. I told you I wouldn’t miss the next time I took a shot.”
* * *
Jack swerved onto the sidewalk and slammed his car in Park. Max hadn’t found anything yet in Mason’s apartment but urged Jack to wait for backup before barging into the loft.
Not an option. His gut told him exactly where Olivia was, and he needed to get to the apartment as fast as possible. Backup would be there soon, but Jack couldn’t wait.
Jumping from the car, he ignored the protests of annoyed pedestrians and an angry doorman as he muscled his way into the building. “Police are on their way. There’s a situation in Olivia Hickman’s loft. Don’t get in the way.”
Bypassing the elevator, he ran up the stairs and rounded the corner of Olivia’s hallway. His lungs burned and expanded in his chest with each labored breath. His heart pounded.
Bang!
The sound of a gunshot had him sprinting to Olivia’s apartment. As he ran, he fumbled with his phone and managed to send out a text to Max.
Gunshots fired at the loft. Get here now. Send medical help.
Shoving his phone back in his pocket as he approached Olivia’s door, he tested the doorknob, relieved to find it unlocked. He wanted to burst through, guns blazing, but his training demanded he needed to be more discreet. Olivia was in a perilous situation. He couldn’t make it worse by charging in without knowing exactly what he’d find.
With a firm grip on his anxiety, he steeled his nerves and crept inside. He had his gun trained in front of him, ready for whatever he found. The same overwhelming scent from her apartment smacked him in the face, and dozens of candles illuminated the quiet room. Taped-up photos of Olivia littered the walls—pictures of her laughing with Christine and walking down the sidewalk. Cleary unaware she was being photographed. Sweat dotted the back of his neck.
He left the door ajar and crept inside. The open space made finding a place to hide difficult. He crouched low, making himself as small as possible. He stepped forward, casting a glance toward the sofa in the living area.
No one was there.
The sound of crying caught his attention and made his blood boil. A white pillar separated the entryway from the dining room—the edge of the long table in view. Mason skirted around the end of the table, his back to Jack and holding Olivia in his arms like a groom carrying a bride. Blood dripped down to the cream-colored rug.
“Stop right there.” Jack commanded, gun trained high. He fought the urge to pull the trigger and take the bastard down now. He didn’t know the extent of Olivia’s injuries, and if Mason dropped her after getting shot—or worse, Jack accidently shot Olivia—it could kill her.
Mason spun to face him, and Jack’s heart fell to his feet. Tears leaked from Olivia’s eyes, blood blossoming from a spot on her shirt. Her body was lax and her glassy stare listless and unfocused. She needed medical attention. Now.
The boy next door looks Jack associated with Mason were twisted into something else entirely. A long gash sliced down the side of his face. His hand that held the gun was tucked around Olivia’s shoulders, the weapon lying against her bicep. His hair was messy, and a manic look dominated his eyes and made Jack’s core tighten. A desperate man was unpredictable. A desperate man who had a tentative grip on reality was downright terrifying.
Mason met Jack’s eye. “She made me do it. I just wanted to love her. Wanted to give her everything. I told her not to run. I warned her I wouldn’t miss.” His voice cracked and shoulders shook on shallow sobs. Olivia’s body bounced in his firm grip.
Jack fought not to glance at Olivia. He kept his focus entirely on Mason. As much as he wanted to run across the room and tackle the asshole, he couldn’t. He had to find another way to get Mason away from Olivia. “If you love her, you need to put her down. Let me get her help.”
Mason shook his head. “No. I can’t let her go. I won’t. She’s mine.”
“Do you want her to die?” The question wedged in his throat and squeezed his heart like a vise. Olivia had a bullet hole in her flesh, just like Mary. And might not survive another minute, because yet again, he didn’t get to her in time. But at least Mary knew how he felt about her. At least he’d confessed his love. He’d been an idiot not to tell Olivia exactly what she meant to him—exactly what he wanted for their future.
“No,” Mason said, his lips trembling. “But if I can’t have her, no one else can. And she’s shown she’s not ready to accept everything I can give her.”
Adrenaline spiked through Jack with each heartbeat. It shouldn’t be too long before backup showed up, but he didn’t know how much time Olivia had. If he shot Mason in the leg, and he dropped her, would that outweigh the risk of waiting for help to arrive? Or what if Mason had the forethought to use his weapon on her again? Finish what he started while Jack could do nothing but stand by helplessly and watch.
Mason sniffed, then used the sleeve of his arm to wipe a mixture of tears and blood from his face. The guy was falling apart. Jack had to move fast.
A slight movement from Olivia tensed Jack’s muscles. He didn’t want to alert Mason to any changes in her, so he stayed still. Gun trained on Mason. If he so much as moved the arm that gripped his weapon, Jack would pull the trigger.
Olivia turned her head just enough to make eye contact with Jack.
Fear made his palms sweat. He didn’t know what was going on in her mind, but something told him she refused to lie still and be a pawn for Mason. He took a steadying breath. Whatever she did, he’d be ready to jump in.
Olivia slowly moved one finger and placed it on her forearm, then two, then three... With lightning speed she grabbed Mason’s hand that held the gun and bit hard.
“Sonofa—” Mason jerked his hand away and stumbled backward. The gun fell to the ground. His grip loosened on Olivia, who thrashed in his arms.
He couldn’t get off a shot without endangering her, but without Mason’s weapon, the threat decreased.
Jack charged.
Mason tossed Olivia to the ground and scooped his gun from the floor. He aimed it at Olivia, who lay in a motionless heap.
“No!” Jack lunged forward. His arms wrapping around Mason’s waist and driving him to the floor as the sound of a gunshot rang in his ears. He slammed his fist against Mason’s jaw—then again—until Mason’s head flopped back. Jack circled Mason’s wrist with his hand, pounding his knuckles against the ground until he released the gun.
Mason grunted and swore. “Get off me! I won’t let you ruin this! I won’t let you take her from me!”
With his body weight pinning Mason down, Jack reached behind his back and found his handcuffs. He shifted enough to spin Mason to his stomach then slapped the cuffs on him. “Stay down, asshole.”
Raising to his feet, he hurried to Olivia. He longed to hold her but didn’t want to hurt her more than she already was. “Olivia. Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Did you get him?”
“Yes. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
A small smile barely lifted her lips and she reached for his hand. “You promised you’d stop him. I... I’m really cold. And my chest hurts. So bad.” Her teeth chattered and her hand was like ice in his.
No. He couldn’t lose her now. Not while Mason lay in handcuffs and the threat to Olivia was over. Needing to be close to her—to comfort her—he cradled her head in his lap. He swept away a matted lock of hair with shaking fingers. “Help will be here soon. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Her eyes slid closed, and her body went limp.
“Police!” A familiar voice shouted.
Tears clouded his vision as Max led a handful of officers and paramedics into the loft.
Jack dropped his head, panic tightening his hold on Olivia. “Help’s here. Please. Please don’t leave me. I love you.”
Chapter 26
I love you.
Jack’s choked-up voice whispering those words waded through the fog of pain keeping Olivia from opening her eyes. Every inch of her body hurt. The weight of an anvil sat on her chest. She wiggled her fingers, but the feel of calloused skin against hers kept her hand still.
She creaked open one eye then the other. She blinked against the bright fluorescent light beating down on her. The astringent scent of disinfectant and sickness permeated her nose. The beep of machines kept pace with her heartbeat.
