Wound Up(101)

                The door handle rattled.

                He shoved Grace aside as the door opened and he was suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun.





                                      18

                “STAY THERE, GRACE. Do not turn around.”

                Those were the first words that registered with Grace. “Excuse me?” she snapped, irritated. What the hell had he shoved her for? Did he think the door was going to hit her harder than he had when it opened? It had been locked, for heaven’s sake. She made to stand.

                “Damn it, Grace,” Justin snapped. “Stay. Down.”

                She cradled her hands, scraped raw on the industrial carpet. She glanced over her shoulder as Gavin stepped inside the office brandishing a 9 mm Berretta. A cocked 9 mm Berretta. “Oh, shit,” she breathed.

                Gavin shut the door and locked it, refusing to look down at her. “You aren’t supposed to be here, Grace.” Gone was the “Ms.” he usually addressed her with. She started to roll over and his trigger finger shifted from running down the side of the barrel to hovering over the trigger, the gun still pointed at Justin. “Uh-uh. You stay there and do what Maxwell says. Turn around.”

                She stopped moving, her heart wedged so tightly in her shrunken throat she couldn’t breathe. “Don’t do this,” she quietly pleaded. She wasn’t trying to exert her influence as an authority figure. She was expressing the truth of her vulnerability. Gone were all the reasons to talk this out with him professionally. Gone were all the lessons she’d ever learned by living in a domestic war zone. Gone were her years of training. All that remained was a woman facing the prospect of losing the man she loved when she’d only just found him. “Please, Gavin.” Her voice broke on his name.

                “Stay down, Grace,” the teen commanded. “I don’t want you exposed to this kind of violence.”

                Laughter colored with madness escaped her in a whoosh. “You don’t, huh?” She rolled to her side, refusing to look away, afraid of what could happen in that blink of an eye. Fear threatened to shut her mind down. Then she gazed up at Justin. He was facing the young man, hands loose at his sides, face completely neutral. She owed it to him, to them, to what might be, to do better than freeze. As if on cue, her mind began to work. Use his name. “You’re the one exposing me to the violence, Gavin.”

                She rolled a little farther, and his finger shifted to rest on the trigger. “I told you, stay down.”

                “Please, Gavin. Don’t do this.” Make it personal. “Don’t do this to me.”

                “I ain’t doing nothing to you, Grace. I’m taking out a traitor to D’eight,” he spat, using the gang’s common name. “You know this dude is a traitor, right?”

                Keep his focus on you. “Wait. What do you mean he’s a traitor?”

                Gavin spat on Justin’s shoes. “He was full Deuce. The brothers had his back. They were gonna provide for his momma and her kids. All he had to do was cap a cop who’d worked his way into Deuce. Woulda been easy, but he broke faith, Grace. He wouldn’t pull the trigger.”

                “The guy had a family,” Justin said softly. “A wife, small kids, his own mother living with him.”

                “Shut up!” Gavin shouted, hand shaking so hard Grace was terrified he was going to accidentally shoot Justin. “You shut up.”