Authors: Wendy Byrne
* * *
She sprinted down the sidewalk, her heart racing, her legs pumping. Stu was right behind her, his angry shouts getting closer by the second. She spared a quick look behind and switched into high gear.
Bumping and running against the swarm of people, she wove crazily through the crowd. While she didn’t know where she was going, she knew if she got back into that car she’d be dead.
The sound of pounding footsteps behind spurred her on. Her legs pumped twice as hard, twice as fast. Her thighs strained with exertion while she sucked in oxygen.
“Chicago Police. Stop,” he screamed from behind.
She ignored him and turned right at the next corner, hoping to find something, anything that resembled protection, or someplace to hide. Instead she stumbled into a park, a vast open area with few people. But she couldn’t retreat and find a better way without running smack dab into him.
Sprinting hard, she flew past a grassy area punctuated with a fountain and a band shell, along with a large grouping of trees. She could see Lake Michigan in the distance, along with a four-lane road that separated the park from the lake. If she could somehow make it to the road, she might be able to get lost in traffic or get onto one of the many buses lining the road.
But before she could think about other possibilities, she was tackled from behind and slammed to the grass. Her legs and arms got jumbled up beneath with her right ankle catching the majority of the impact.
“You…bitch…” he panted.
He hauled her up by the arms, nearly dislocating her shoulders in the process, and forced her forward. When her weight came down on her right foot, she buckled. Searing pain shot up her leg, bringing tears to her eyes.
“Problem?” He gave an evil laugh and again forced her forward.
“Let me go.” She hobbled along, trying to focus through the pain.
He simply pulled harder on her arms and held out his badge to anyone who looked at them strangely. “Chicago Police, clear the way. I have a suspect.”
She tried to twist away. “He’s lying…I’m not…a…suspect. He’s…my…abusive husband. He’s going…to kill me.” The words came out in painful grunts. If she could only make people believe her story instead of his.
What she said got people’s attention. He didn’t look like a police officer and people began to give them both a second look, trying to weigh who was telling the truth.
One large muscle-bound man moved in close, standing in their path. “Let me see that badge.”
The vein in Stu’s neck pulsed as he shoved it at the man. “She’s under arrest. Get out of my way.”
“He’s going to kill me.” Her voice sounded weak as pain threatened to overcome her.
“She’s a pathological liar.” Stu cleared his throat as he tried to regain his composure. “I realize how this looks, but we’ve been tracking her for weeks.”
“Please…I swear…he’s my abusive husband. If you let me go with him…” She drew in a deep breath and tried to focus on getting out of this alive. “I’ll be dead by morning.”
No doubt fed up with her antics, as well as the fact she was slowing him down, Stu picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. “Let me go,” she moaned, hurting so bad she could hardly think.
“And why would I do that?” The quiet menace in his voice terrified her.
“Because somebody on this street is going to remember this. You’ll be held accountable for whatever you do to me.”
“Don’t count on it.”
After handcuffing her hands behind her back, he shoved her inside the car. Her foot, already twice its normal size, throbbed. She fought to stay conscious.
Stu got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Glancing out the window, she spotted the muscle-bound man eyeing her once again. She mouthed ‘help me’ to him as Stu pulled the car into traffic.
Stu punched in numbers on his phone but seconds later threw it down. Tires squealing, he turned the next corner and moved onto long stretch of road that followed Lake Michigan.
“They don’t have Shane, do they?” It was the only possible reason for his irritation.
“Shut up.”
“It’s all coming apart, isn’t it, Stu? They don’t have Shane. That’s why they’re not answering. They haven’t caught him, and they won’t. For all you know they might be under arrest.”
He hit the brakes, catching her off-guard. Her head bounced off the doorframe, splitting her lip. “I said shut up.”
He was sweating, his nerves showing in the twitch of his fingers on the steering wheel and the way he kept glancing at his phone on the seat, as if willing it to ring.
But it didn’t. And it wouldn’t. Because somehow Shane had escaped. Maybe Patrick had helped him out. That thought cheered her.
* * *
Patrick answered the phone. The call lasted less than thirty seconds.
“We’ve got a lead. A guy reported an altercation between a man and a woman in Grant Park. The man said he was a police officer, but the witness said he didn’t act like one so he called it in. The description matches Stu and the woman matches Gabriella.
And the license number he copied down matches up with Stu’s.”
“Did he say where they were heading?” Hope shot through Shane as he realized they might not be too late.
“He said it looked like they headed toward Lake Shore. Stu’s got a condo off Belmont. I think that would be a safe bet.”
While Shane was still trying to think of the best way to handle this, his phone rang. “O’Neil.”
“Shane, Carissa tells me you’re in trouble. What can I do?” Garrett said.
Shane rattled off the address and hoped they wouldn’t be too late.
* * *
Stu soon pulled into some kind of underground garage. After picking a spot near the elevator, he stopped the car.
He hauled Gabriella from the backseat and removed the handcuffs. Then he pulled the gun from his pocket and shoved it into her side. Her whole leg throbbed until she thought she’d go mad from the pain as he forced her to hobble, although that was still preferable to his assistance. She glanced around the parking garage, hoping to spot somebody, but the place was deserted.
“Don’t try any of that crap you did downtown.” He punctuated the remark by jabbing the gun into her ribs. She had no doubt he’d pull the trigger. The wild look in his eye convinced her of that. She chose to cooperate in the hope a miracle would occur.
They didn’t see one single person on their way into the building or on the elevator. He opened the door to his apartment and shoved her inside.
When she stumbled, excruciating pain shot from her foot up the length of her leg. She bit back the scream, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.
“Don’t even try to cry for help. This building has seventeen-inch concrete walls. Nothing gets through.”
“Nice to know your money was well spent.”
He glared and cocked his fist. Before he could hit her his phone rang.
She held her breath. Her heart baboomed inside her chest as she tried to calculate how much time had elapsed since Stu had grabbed her off the street. Maybe a half hour. Maybe longer. A lot can happen in that stretch of time.
He listened but didn’t say much besides grunting and swearing. When he hung up he seemed even more agitated, which she figured was a good sign. He picked up a glass vase and threw it in the general direction of her head. She ducked and fell back into the couch. The glass shattered against the wall, spraying her with fragments.
A large chunk landed on the armrest near her and she palmed it to use as a weapon. Not the best, but it might buy her some time.
“Looks like you might have some use after all. Shane’s not going to be a threat once he knows I have you.”
“Don’t be too sure about that. He doesn’t like me very much.”
“Stop the bull. What’s his number?” He waved the gun in her face, shouting one obscenity after another. But she wouldn’t be intimidated by him. Cold resolve strengthened her spine.
I am a strong, intelligent black woman, and I can do this.
The mantra swept through her brain until it settled into reality.
She only needed to buy some time. Sooner or later, Shane would find her.
Frustrated by her lack of response, Stu’s anger escalated another notch. Yanking her up, he threw her across the room. She bounced off the wall, then slid to the floor. Pain shot everywhere. The one pain she could isolate came from the shard of glass she held in her palm.
Stu bent over, grabbed her neck and squeezed. Her throat constricted as she fought against the pressure. She struggled to wiggle free from his grasp. She needed air.
Blood seeped through her fingers as she held tight to the jagged edge of glass and struck.
* * *
Too impatient to wait for the elevator, Shane took the stairs two at a time to the fifth floor. Patrick and Garrett followed behind.
“What’s the plan?” Patrick asked as they approached apartment 512.
“Get her the hell away from that madman.” Shane couldn’t think straight.
No time for thinking. Instead, he raised his foot, splintering the door with a single kick. Gabriella screamed. He took the shot without even thinking twice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Gabriella. Are you all right?” Shane held her in his arms.
Somehow she managed to open her eyes and smile. “I stabbed Stu…with a piece of glass.” She drug in a breath. “But…I …think…he…might have cut me, too,” she whispered in a raspy voice. Her body shook with wave after wave of trembling, her side hurt, her throat killed, and blood was everywhere. “But…you…shot… him.”
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Shane lifted her shirt. “Garrett, Patrick, somebody get me a towel.” Whatever he saw made his jaw lock tight. He grabbed the towel from Patrick and pressed it against her side.
Donna was right behind Shane. “Hey, girlfriend. How ya doing?” She looked shaken and pale, despite her words.
“Hurts.” Pain was coming from so many places she didn’t know where it started and ended. “I’m such a wuss.”
Shane brushed the hair back from her face. “No.”
The rigid lines on his face frightened her. “Am I dying?”
“You’re fine.” His breath hitched. “We need to get you to a hospital. I’ve slowed down the bleeding, but I’m afraid you’re going into shock.” While he smoothed the hair on her head and covered her with his jacket, he barked orders. “Grab a blanket.”
“See, I was right.” Her teeth made clinking noises as they hit against each other, and her throat ached so bad it was hard to draw in a breath. She could still feel Stu’s hands wrapped tight around her throat.
Shane’s smile was forced. “This time you’re not right, Gabriella. You’re not dying. I won’t allow it.”
The pain was unbearable. “Ooww,” she moaned and wondered if Shane could pull it off.
“I know you’re bleeding, but you’ll be okay.” He scooped her into his arms and made his way out the door. “Patrick will drive us to the hospital.”
“Scared.” She wasn’t all that sure the word came out, but when he nodded, she figured it must have. “I need…to…sing.” But she couldn’t.
He settled her gently into the backseat of the car. With her head in his lap, Shane began to sing. While the melody was barely recognizable because he couldn’t sing worth crap, the words were ones she knew very well.
Shane’s eyes were misty, and his fingers were entangled in her hair while he sang ‘Brown Eyed Girl.’
The ride was one giant blur. Patrick drove, with another man next to him in the front seat. Donna was riding in the back with them. Shane kept singing the words to ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ over and over until they reached the hospital.
When he carried her inside, she could sense more than see the others trailing behind.
“We need a doctor.” Shane pushed past the woman behind the desk and took her in back.
“Shane, I love you,” she whispered right before the doctors forced him to leave.
* * *
Shane paced the ER, unable to sit. There was a lot of blood. He could only hope most of it was Stu’s. “Did the ambulance bring him in yet?” He assumed Stu was dead but didn’t care either way.
“A hospital isn’t going to help him.” Garrett grabbed him by the arm. “Your shot was right on.”
“I heard her scream and—” Before Shane could respond, a doctor came out from in back. Memories of the day he lost his mother caught in his chest and squeezed as the doctor walked up to them.
“She’s lost quite a bit of blood, but no major damage. Her vocal chords have been bruised and she has a broken ankle. In a couple of days, she’ll probably need surgery on the ankle. Other than that, she’s going to be fine.”
Finally, he felt as if he could breathe.
* * *
Gabriella drifted into a deep sleep sometime between her side getting stitched and them doing the temporary whatever-it-was on her foot. She remembered asking for Shane about a million and a half times, which was probably why they gave her something to knock her out. They kept telling her he was down at police headquarters giving a statement, but for some reason she didn’t believe them. She opened her eyes reluctantly and noted her larger-than-life foot propped in the air surrounded by a kind of plastic bubble and supported by a boatload of pillows.
Shane needed her. She needed him. Somehow over the course of the last month their lives had become inextricably entwined. She suddenly knew he was near. She could feel it. She turned her head and saw him standing in the doorway holding flowers.
“I did fine after I convinced that doctor to give me a morphine drip.” Her voice was hoarse and scratchy from the damage Stu had done to her vocal cords when he tried to choke her to death.
“The doctor said your voice will be okay in a month or so. He’s going to operate on your foot later.” Shane looked nearly as uncomfortable as he sounded as he made his way inside the room toward her bed. He had a bouquet of wild flowers in his hand, the color and aroma bringing a splash of life to the sterile room. In his other hand, he carried her precious iPod. “The nurse is getting a vase.”
“Thanks. They’re beautiful.” She eased her body upright as much as she could, trying to make herself more comfortable. Then she realized it wasn’t her position making her uncomfortable, but that a wedge that had fallen between them. Which was weird. They’d been through more together in the last month than most couples go through in a lifetime. She’d shared more with him than with any other man in her life. Why this sudden wall of uncertainty?
The nurse came inside the room. After taking the flowers from Shane, she put them in a vase on the table by the bed and left.
“Was I hallucinating or did the Rock show up with you and Patrick and Donna to rescue me? You know, the wrestler turned actor Rock, the guy with arms as big as—”
“That was Garrett. People mistake him for the Rock all the time. Just to mess with folks, he does the eyebrow thing.” He had a tentative smile.
“Garrett? Good. For a while there I thought Garrett might be your…imaginary friend.” She raised her eyebrows up and down and giggled. When she shifted slightly in the bed, a stabbing pain shot up her side. “Oooouch.”
Shane grimaced. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He moved toward the door. “I can get the nurse to give you something.”
“Stop. It’s only karma paying me back for making fun of you.” She patted the side of the bed to urge him to sit.
It was as if he wanted to get closer but was afraid she’d break. “The doctor says they’ll release you after the surgery. They need to put a pin in your ankle before they cast it.”
She winced. “As long as he gives me something potent to take the edge off, I’ll be fine.” She drew in a breath and tried to figure out why she felt the bite of tension in the room. “I must look a mess, but I can’t be that frightening, can I?”
She resisted the urge to look Shane in the eye, knowing he’d have that same deer-in-the-headlights look on his face he’d had when she’d told him she loved him. It had been pretty obvious he wanted to hear that about as much as he wanted to hear he owed twenty thousand dollars in back taxes.
Before, when they didn’t talk, there had been a level of comfort in their lack of communication. But now it felt as if the Grand Canyon separated them.
“You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head again?” She brushed at her faded blue hospital gown for distraction.
She sensed a ‘but’ coming and didn’t want to hear it. Every other relationship she’d had in the past had prepared her for this. If she hadn’t kissed all those frogs, so to speak, she wouldn’t have appreciated what she had with Shane so much.
He’d sung for her. That had to mean something.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” He drew in a breath. Intertwining his fingers with hers as he sat on the side of the bed. “You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“That doesn’t change the fact it was my fault.” He drew his free hand through the hair that was starting to grow out. “I can never forgive myself for putting you in the middle. You’re here in the hospital drugged up on painkillers. You had a piece of glass slice through your side, your throat’s badly bruised, your ankle is broken. If I’d been one minute later…”
“But you weren’t.” He had tears glistening in his eyes when he looked at her and she felt a lump the size of a Cadillac forming in her throat.
“I should never have involved you. It was my fight, not yours.”
“Half dead in the alley, you needed help or you wouldn’t have made it. Besides, I was involved in this way before that happened. They would have come after me regardless.”
“Don’t you get it? I’m responsible for what happened to you. While I didn’t personally harm you, this rests on my shoulders.”
Despite the serious intent of his words, somehow the whole thing seemed so ironic she started to laugh. For a second or two, she thought he was getting ready to call for help, worried she’d gone off the deep end.
“Don’t we make a pair? You think you’re responsible for everything and I don’t think I’m responsible for anything. Do you think there’s a halfway point where we both take responsibility for our own actions?”
He smiled. She wasn’t sure if that meant she was getting through to him or he was pacifying her.
“I feel so bad.” He ran his hands down her face. “It should be me that’s in the hospital, not you.”
She smirked. “Except you’d be too macho to go. You’d tough it out with your busted-up ankle and hobble around for the rest of your life.” She pulled both of his hands towards her mouth and kissed each one, then linked her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Stay with me, Gabriella. Help me figure this all out.”