Please, God, just help me. If he pulls that trigger it will kill Bee. And Mama and Daddy.
We stay that way for precious seconds, me frozen and praying, him staring at me dazedly, as if he’s seeing every happy time we’ve shared. Just when I think he’s going to lower the gun and let me go I hear the sound of wailing sirens and groan, crying silently when he stiffens and gets the nastiest look on his face.
He’s on me in the next second, and I cry out, feeling my eyebrow split and gush a stream of blood into my eye when the butt of the gun hits me.
“You’re a lying whore just like her! I loved her! And she threw me away like garbage because you couldn’t keep your nose where it belongs,” he rages, grabbing me by the throat and squeezing till I thrash for air. “My only regret is that I can’t take that bitch with us.”
I know in that instant: I’m going to die.
He lowers the gun and shoves it directly into my forehead, the barrel digging into the skin between my eyes. I close them, feeling tears of terror leaking out, and can’t help a gasping plea.
“Please.”
I’m fully prepared now, ready to die, when I hear a thump and feel the weight leave me along with the pressure at my throat.
“You piece of shit! You touch what’s mine!”
I’m dragging in big gulps of air as I roll to the left and open my eyes, shocked when I see Vincent pounding the ever loving hell out of Eric. The gun is somewhere to their left, near enough that I see Eric’s hand stretch out amid the pounding his head is taking on the gravel, and curl.
“He’s got a gun!”
At my croaked warning Vincent deflects just in time, but gets coldcocked by a right hook that sends him sprawling. Eric rolls and staggers to his feet, weaving, his face a mass of blood and quickly purpling bruises.
The relief I feel at this last hour salvation dies a quick death when he smiles savagely and points the gun back at me.
“No!”
What happens next should be over in the blink of an eye, but I see it all as if in slow motion. Vincent is up and running, his big body slamming into Eric’s, pushing forward, gaining momentum till they’re carried to the edge of the roof.
“Vincent!”
My heart almost stops completely when they slam into the edge, but I am saved from desolation when he twists at the last minute and throws himself to the side.
A bloodcurdling scream fills the air a moment before a sickening thud reverberates around us, and I realize that Eric has gone over.
The shock and overwhelming relief to be alive, that Vincent is still alive, overtakes my overtaxed senses, and I collapse back to the asphalt, feeling the freezing air for the first time since leaving my bed.
“Dove! Jesus. Dove, look at me!”
I’m in his arms a moment later, and I feel great, effervescent with thankfulness even as my nerves protest his tight embrace and the sensation of his lips mashing down on my bloody mouth.
“I thought, Jesus, I could hear everything through the phone on the way here. I didn’t think I’d make it.”
Me either, I think, kissing him back despite the pain and the metallic taste of blood filling our mouths. I thought I’d never see him again, and now that I am, I feel like sobbing with joy.
He’s here. He saved me.
“You did.”
It’s all I can say before great shudders of pain and shock wrack me. Police start streaming onto the roof from the access door to the right, and I hear them shouting and cursing.
“I’m not wearing any pants.”
So strange to think of something so silly at a time like this, but I’m modest by nature, and I can’t stand the thought of being on display for half of the NYPD. I’m immensely grateful when he lowers me to the ground and whips his sweater off, laying it over my frozen limbs.
“I don’t think I’ll make that meeting tomorrow,” I say brokenly as he leans over me and cradles my face gently.
He smiles softly, his green eyes suspiciously shiny, and presses a kiss to my nose.
“Not to worry, dove. I think it’s safe to say I’ll come to you,” he croons, laying a shaking hand to my uninjured cheek.
“Bee—”
“Is just fine, dove. I’ve got you now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Those words give me the release I need, and I give in to the temptation to close my eyes and drift off, warm and secure in the arms of my lover.
Chapter Fifteen
I wake in the hospital, feeling groggy and out of sorts. My mouth is dry and throbbing, and when I open my eyes it takes me a second to realize that my vision isn’t damaged so much as one of my eyes won’t open.
Goddamned Eric. I hope that asshole gets locked in a jail cell with Attila the Hun’s brother Killer. Or maybe not. I still feel sorry for him, especially when I remember the sorrow I’d seen when he’d spoken of Bee.