and it makes the urgency that much more potent.
I push to my feet, knees weak, and balance off, causing me to sway. Somehow I catch myself on the counter. My stomach aches where that asshole punched me. It feels like a rock lodged inside my belly. I ignore the pain and take a step toward Link, struggling with Bates.
I slide my foot, taking another shaky step. I have no idea what I’m going to do—what I’m capable of doing in my state. I must have hit my head because everything is spinning. Blurry. It’s making me lightheaded and dizzy.
Bates kicks out, connecting hard with Link’s leg. As Link falls to his knees, Bates smiles. That smile I once found so attractive, now a cruel, gratified smirk.
I try to move fast enough. I try to lunge at Bates. Throw myself between the men. But my legs are inept, my effort futile. It happens so fast, I can’t make sense of what’s occurring.
My knees hit the floor, just as Link’s did just a second ago. And then the room is filled with a flash of light as a loud popping sound echoes off the walls, making my ears ring.
Smoke drifts off of the shoulder of Bates’ shirt, a circle of red growing larger and larger, spreading along his arm. He looks down, his mouth falling open as if in shock. The knife tumbles out of his hand as if he can no longer hold onto it.
There’s shouting. Beams of light bouncing around the room. But I keep my attention locked on Bates. His gaze moves from his shoulder to Link, his eyes growing large.
Someone touches me, places a coat over my shoulders. I only look away for a moment, glancing back at the officer trying to guide me outside. Away from Link. I try to pull away, turning back to the two men.
Link is still on his knees, his arms bleeding profusely. He raises his opposite hand, light reflecting off the long blade of Bates’ knife. I scream. I must. Because Link stops, his hand pausing in midair, even with Bates’ belly.
It feels like time stops as Link battles against his need to complete the mission he’s been on for much too long now. I understand it. I do. I want Bates dead too. But if Link kills him now in front of these police officers, he’ll go to prison, or worse, they’ll shoot him.
He looks back at me as the officers continue to shout. I shake my head, silently pleading with him. I feel my lips move, but I can’t hear myself over all of the yelling.
But Link understands.
He drops his hand, letting the knife slip from his fingers. The cops move in, one pushing Link to the floor. Others take hold of Bates. There’s so much chaos. Too much happening too quickly. I’m shuffled out the door and into the back of an ambulance.
Thirteen
Link
Byers hands me a cup of coffee as the doctor finishes dressing my arm. I nod a thank you as I take it. The hot liquid feels good traveling down my parched throat.
“There will be a guard on him at all times until we’re able to transport him,” he says casually. I don’t know if Byers is trying to reassure me or warn me—I’ll be caught if I go after him.
It’s not an issue. As much as I want that man dead—erased from existence—I’m going to allow the legal system to take care of him. It’s not easy to do, but I made the decision the moment I heard Rocky tell me she needed me.
I haven’t been needed in a long time.
“When can I see Rocky?”
Byers sips his own coffee, peering at me over the rim. “As soon as we’re done here. She’s been examined. Superficial wounds. No concussion. She can go home today.”
I sigh. That’s good. That’s very good. I’m sure she misses her place.
I don’t have a home to go home to. My house is currently a crime scene.
“Greg Anthony gave us a full confession. We’ve identified all four suspects involved in Olivia’s murder.”
I nod absent-mindedly, rotating my shoulder when the doctor finishes taping the bandage in place and ducks out of the room. Another stab wound. Another set of stitches. Small price to pay to
I push to my feet, knees weak, and balance off, causing me to sway. Somehow I catch myself on the counter. My stomach aches where that asshole punched me. It feels like a rock lodged inside my belly. I ignore the pain and take a step toward Link, struggling with Bates.
I slide my foot, taking another shaky step. I have no idea what I’m going to do—what I’m capable of doing in my state. I must have hit my head because everything is spinning. Blurry. It’s making me lightheaded and dizzy.
Bates kicks out, connecting hard with Link’s leg. As Link falls to his knees, Bates smiles. That smile I once found so attractive, now a cruel, gratified smirk.
I try to move fast enough. I try to lunge at Bates. Throw myself between the men. But my legs are inept, my effort futile. It happens so fast, I can’t make sense of what’s occurring.
My knees hit the floor, just as Link’s did just a second ago. And then the room is filled with a flash of light as a loud popping sound echoes off the walls, making my ears ring.
Smoke drifts off of the shoulder of Bates’ shirt, a circle of red growing larger and larger, spreading along his arm. He looks down, his mouth falling open as if in shock. The knife tumbles out of his hand as if he can no longer hold onto it.
There’s shouting. Beams of light bouncing around the room. But I keep my attention locked on Bates. His gaze moves from his shoulder to Link, his eyes growing large.
Someone touches me, places a coat over my shoulders. I only look away for a moment, glancing back at the officer trying to guide me outside. Away from Link. I try to pull away, turning back to the two men.
Link is still on his knees, his arms bleeding profusely. He raises his opposite hand, light reflecting off the long blade of Bates’ knife. I scream. I must. Because Link stops, his hand pausing in midair, even with Bates’ belly.
It feels like time stops as Link battles against his need to complete the mission he’s been on for much too long now. I understand it. I do. I want Bates dead too. But if Link kills him now in front of these police officers, he’ll go to prison, or worse, they’ll shoot him.
He looks back at me as the officers continue to shout. I shake my head, silently pleading with him. I feel my lips move, but I can’t hear myself over all of the yelling.
But Link understands.
He drops his hand, letting the knife slip from his fingers. The cops move in, one pushing Link to the floor. Others take hold of Bates. There’s so much chaos. Too much happening too quickly. I’m shuffled out the door and into the back of an ambulance.
Thirteen
Link
Byers hands me a cup of coffee as the doctor finishes dressing my arm. I nod a thank you as I take it. The hot liquid feels good traveling down my parched throat.
“There will be a guard on him at all times until we’re able to transport him,” he says casually. I don’t know if Byers is trying to reassure me or warn me—I’ll be caught if I go after him.
It’s not an issue. As much as I want that man dead—erased from existence—I’m going to allow the legal system to take care of him. It’s not easy to do, but I made the decision the moment I heard Rocky tell me she needed me.
I haven’t been needed in a long time.
“When can I see Rocky?”
Byers sips his own coffee, peering at me over the rim. “As soon as we’re done here. She’s been examined. Superficial wounds. No concussion. She can go home today.”
I sigh. That’s good. That’s very good. I’m sure she misses her place.
I don’t have a home to go home to. My house is currently a crime scene.
“Greg Anthony gave us a full confession. We’ve identified all four suspects involved in Olivia’s murder.”
I nod absent-mindedly, rotating my shoulder when the doctor finishes taping the bandage in place and ducks out of the room. Another stab wound. Another set of stitches. Small price to pay to
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