Control Me(61)

Turner had his hand on the back of her neck, holding her down. There was blood everywhere, but most of it looked like it was coming from Turner’s chest. It was oozing and dripping onto Jada. Thank fuck it wasn’t her that was bleeding.

I could see Jada trying to blink away from her descending blackness of unconsciousness, struggling against Turner. He was pointing a gun at her temple.

“That’s it; wake up, whore. Let me show you how much of a man I am before I have to kill you.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Turner!” I screamed at him. Turner whipped his head around and stared up at me with an animal fear so intense I could smell it. “Get the fuck off her. You will never hurt her again, you piece of shit.”

I didn’t care that he had a gun; I just wanted to fucking kill him. Reaching down, I yanked the fucker up by his blood-soaked shirt collar and shook him like a dog. Completely enraged and unthinking, I slung him against the wall, knocking the gun out of his hand. Turner would have slid down it if it wasn’t for my fist, which slammed into his midsection then pinned him to the wall like a nail through his gut. I kept hitting him over and over again. I was nose to nose, my lips peeled back to bare my teeth as I glared at Jada’s tormentor.

“Max, let him go!” Gun drawn, Zane shouted the order from the doorway. “Max!” Zane had to repeat my name three times before I could hear him through my smoke of destructive fury.

Gradually, I withdrew my fist. Turner emitted a wheezing sound and collapsed to the floor. I quickly ran to pick up the gun, but Turner slid it out of my grasp and aimed it at Jada again.

“Make one move and she dies, playboy. Anyone makes a move and she’s dead,” Turner grated out.

Zane moved forward in front of me while two policemen entered behind him, stopping dead in their tracks when they heard Turner’s threat. I desperately wanted to get to Jada. She was lying on her side, her knees drawn protectively up to her chest.

“Put the gun down, Tate. I’ve got more back-up coming, and an ambulance will be here any minute. Put the gun down, and step away from Jada,” Zane repeated.

“I don’t…think…so. This b…bitch has something I want, and I’m n…n…not leaving until I get… it,” Tate said, gasping for breath.

I snapped. Why he was not dead yet was beyond me. He was bleeding uncontrollably and swaying back and forth, still pointing the gun at Jada. I started toward him, not thinking he would aim and shoot at me. Zane pushed me out of the way and stepped in front of me, taking the bullet that was meant for me, but not before he shot his own gun and managed to hit Turner between the eyes.

Blood and brain matter splattered everywhere, mainly on Zane. Just then, the two police officers pulled Zane off Turner.

“Oh, God…oh, God…he shot you, Zane. He was meant to shoot me, and he shot you! Why did you do that?”

Everything started moving in slow motion. I saw more officers move toward Turner and I heard the ambulance arrive outside.

“I know how to dodge a bullet, Max. I’m fine; it’s just a graze. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot, you know. Stop standing there and go to Jada,” he said breathlessly.

I dropped to my knees where Jada lay, placed my arms around her and lifted her into a sitting position, hugging her close to my chest. “I’m here, Princess. He can’t bother you now. Not anymore.”

“Max?” she said faintly.

“Is she all right?” Zane mumbled in his delirious state.

“Don’t talk, Zane. She’s okay and you’ll be fine, buddy,” I tried to convince him.

“Is she hurt or cut? There’s blood on the floor,” he ground out.

It was probably Turner’s blood.

“Max?” Jada croaked.

I bent my head down, bringing my face close to hers. Even pale and dishevelled, she still looked gorgeous.

“Hmm?”

“Get me to the hospital.”

“The hospital?”

“I think I’m bleeding.”

My eyes moved over her face, her chest, her exposed midriff, but I saw no trace of blood apart from Turner’s blood on her top.

“She’s probably cut her hands with the knife,” Zane whispered.

“No, it’s not that. Get me to the hospital now,” she said, her anxiety increasing. “Hurry, please.”

“Babe, I know you’re scared. You’ve come through—”

“Please, Max.” Her tearful eyes found mine. She pulled her lower lip through her teeth. “I’m in so much pain. There’s something wrong.” She was clutching her stomach in undeniable agony. “Don’t talk, babe; it will be okay,” I reassured her, kissing the top of her head repeatedly. I heard the paramedics enter, and I started yelling at them. “Please hurry up!” I screamed at them as they charged into the kitchen. “Do something!”