NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) (23 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ali had never seen Danny move so fast. A split second after Sam spoke, Danny grabbed her in an ironclad hold, shifting around to her back and dragging her in front of him, knocking the chair backwards in the process. The distinct sound of a clicking hinge filled the air and she felt the warm steel against her neck before her brain registered what it was. A switchblade. Looking down without moving an inch, she could see the sheen of the lethal looking knife, smell the acrid scent of metal. It made her nauseous and she swallowed shallowly, the slight movement enough for the sharp edged blade to graze dangerously against her flesh. She willed herself not to move, but there was a good chance she was going to puke at any moment.

“That’s a decision that just got you killed, my friend.” Sam’s voice was stone cold. “Believe me when I say, it would be in your best interest to drop the knife and let her go.” When Danny did nothing, silently assessing Sam’s seriousness, he added, “The weakest thing a man can do when faced with a threat is to stand behind a woman. But, I’m betting that’s the kind of guy you are.”

“Your concern for my wife is touching. It really is. But I assure you it’s also unnecessary. She’s hardly worth your trouble. In fact, your services might be better used in this situation to convince her to come home with me. Risking her life, and your freedom along with it, seems a far more noble action then she deserves.”

Sam smirked. “Christ, you’re just full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“This is a private matter that doesn’t concern you. Pocket the gun and be on your way. If you don’t,” he jerked her tighter against him, pressing the flat side of the blade harder against her throat and she inhaled sharply. “I’ll use my toy before you can use yours.”

It was then that Ali noticed the mean looking black gun in Sam’s steady hand. How she hadn’t seen it before was a testament to her level of fear, but now all she could do was stare from it to Sam and back again. He had it pointed directly at them, her body shielding the majority of Danny’s. Didn’t he know if he pulled the trigger, he was going to shoot her instead?

“Sam—” Her throat was so dry, it came out as a cracked whisper.

“Shut up!” Danny yanked hard on her hair, tightening his hold against the tender flesh of her neck, his grip nearly choking her. “He can’t help you now, dollface. You had your chance to make this easy, but as usual, you find great satisfaction in reminding me what a pain in the ass you are.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m not sure why I put up with you.”

Closing her eyes to block out the chillingly detached look in Sam’s stare, Ali slowly released the futile death grip she had on Danny’s arm, lowering her hand toward the pocket holding her mace. If she could get to it, and time it right, she might have a chance.

“Damn, dude! Who got a hold of your face?” Grady’s amused voice surprised them both.

Danny pressed the flat side of the knife harder against her throat, blocking much of her airway as he whipped them both around to see their surprise visitor lounging against the broken back door, easy as you please. Black spots dotted her vision as she struggled to breathe.

Chuckling, Grady added, “Did you do that to him, Ali? Good girl.”

Sam responded for her. “It’s a whole different story when you’re the one on the receiving end of a mean right hook, huh, Danny?” His voice was level, his even tone belying the seriousness of the situation. Nodding toward her neck, he added, “Ease up on that, man.”

Surprisingly, Danny’s hold lifted just the slightest bit and she gasped for air, inhaling deeply in relief.

Grady nodded casually at Sam’s comment and rubbed his scruffy jaw, but his sharp eyes never drifted from Danny. “In the interest of full disclosure, Sam? I can attest to that, too. It sucks the big one. I usually have it coming, though. You might not know this about me, but along with my questionable choices in women, I also have a tendency to cheat at cards.”

Sam snorted. “No shit. And you owe me a few Benjamin’s because of it. I knew there was no way you could beat me at Texas hold ‘em.”

Ali barely suppressed a screech and spoke through her teeth, not moving an inch. “Do you two... see the really sharp knife... at my throat?”

Sam’s brow furrowed, as if she had insulted him. “I see it.”

Danny remained tense but silent, his grip on her tightening, no doubt as thrown by the two men’s ridiculous conversation as she was. And he was probably contemplating how he could slash her carotid artery and outrun Sam’s bullet at the same time. Now that both men had the only exits in sight blocked, it was nearly impossible for him to flee, but slicing her neck in half and partially decapitating her was still on the table. She imagined her blood pooling in a perfect circle on the beautiful walnut floors, leaving a penetrating stain that only a sander would be able to remove. Maybe the new owners would tear the vintage wood out and replace it with some hideous looking, coral colored tile, hoping for a Miami Beach vibe, forever changing the history and character of her old bungalow. The perverse, but completely rational possibility made her stomach turn and her body began to tremble, the knife abrading along the outer layers of her skin. The confident look in Sam’s gray eyes, staring intently into hers, calmed her. Sort of.

Until Danny’s grating voice filled her ears as he tried to regain the upper hand, hurling insults and spewing hate about his favorite topic. Her.

“Did you tell him what an inept little cunt you are in bed, dollface? Or did he have to wait until you had him there, only to be disappointed in your less than stellar technique?” He tugged hard on her hair, laughing as she winced, and looked at Sam with a leer. “If I had known in advance my bride was an ice queen, I would have left her at the alter. You see, unlike you, she made me wait for it. Left me to blue-ball it until the wedding night.”

Leaning down, he licked then bit the side of her neck, mere inches from the blade of the knife, the bite so hard Ali swore he broke skin. It was meant to inflict physical pain on her and mental pain on Sam, his face tightening in anger at the sight of Danny’s mouth on her.

Breath hot and rancid against her cheek, he spoke again. “She is hard to resist, though, isn’t she? A tight body and some decent brains to go along with it. I get it and I can’t say I blame you for falling for her act. Her smarts is probably what I’m going to miss the most, though. Not too many woman can look sexy while discussing European foreign policy, but my girl can. She’d be the total package if only I could break her penchant for backtalk. God knows, I’ve tried. And I must admit her pretty mouth is real good for certain things, too. But our little Ali Ann, here? Well, she just can’t seem to keep it shut to save her life, if you know what I mean.” He snickered at his own joke, before whispering, “Say bye-bye, dollface.”

He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me.
Ali had no idea if she was saying it out loud, but the chant repeated in her mind, over and over, as she felt Danny coming completely undone. Her body trembled uncontrollably. Her breath came in serrated puffs. Her vision blurred. Her last seconds on earth were upon her and she tried to memorize Sam’s face as a piercing pain vibrated from her neck. “He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me.”

Danny’s voice was menacing. “She’s right—”

Ali heard the echoing sound of the shot a second after Danny stiffened then went limp, the knife sliding sideways down her neck as his body slumped to the floor awkwardly, the marble-handled switchblade hitting the wood with a dull thunk. Frozen in place, she felt all the air leave her lungs in a sickly, liquid gush, her eyes locked on Sam’s as he spoke. At least she thought he was talking. His mouth was moving as he rushed toward her, but she couldn’t hear a thing except the loud pounding of her heart. Her neck felt hot and wet, and she wondered why water was running down to pool between her breasts. Reaching up to touch her throat, she felt the sticky moisture and looked down at her hands.

Her mind barely registered the bright red blood covering her fingertips before Grady’s warm hands covered hers, hiding the shocking sight.

“Nice job, Sammy. One shot, one kill.” Ali barely heard the dull, echoing words, but looked toward the floor in response to Grady’s quiet compliment. He lifted her chin before she could see Danny. “Don’t look, honey.”

“Ali? Ali!” Sam’s panicked voice filtered through her haze. “Goddamn it, I waited too long, Grady. I fucking hesitated.” His hands gently dabbed her neck before running quickly over her arms and chest, then up to cradle her face, tracking smudges of her blood. “Jesus, are you okay? What else did he do to you, babe? Did he do anything to you before I got here? Did he hit you? Christ, Ali, talk to me!”

“No.” Her voice wasn’t her own. It was rough, like gravel scraping along concrete, and it hurt to talk. When Sam peppered her with the same questions again, not accepting her feeble, unconvincing answer, she shook her head. That hurt, too.

“Where else do you hurt?” He reached out for the towel Grady grabbed from the kitchen counter and held it tightly—too tightly—against her throat. “Where, babe? Tell me.” His other hand was traveling the length of her body, feeling for any invisible injuries.

She wanted to tell him the pressure of the towel was hurting her, to reach up and loosen it herself, but the burning sensation was too intense to fight. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she hated herself for lying to him, and that it was okay if he hated her for it, too.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him.

“I... I’m not his wife anymore.” Her throat hurt like hell, but she had to say it.

Brushing her trembling lips with his finger, he rested his forehead against her own and released a shaky breath. There was worry in his eyes, but his voice was reassuring. “Ali, don’t talk. I know that, okay? I know.”

Sirens finally sounded in the distance, getting louder as they neared, and Grady’s calm voice filtered from somewhere behind her. “I just called it in again, Sam. The cops need to know what to expect. And an ambulance is on the way, too.”

Feeling lightheaded, Ali struggled to stay on her feet, the taste of blood in her throat choking her, blocking the air from her lungs. Sam pulled the towel away from her neck to look at the wound briefly before pressing it back against her again, harder this time.

“This is too fucking deep, man. I don’t like it. It looks like an air cut, but it’s seeping a shitload of blood.” Peering down to look into her eyes, he schooled the panic in his voice, but it remained in his expression. “Breathe real slow and deep for me, Ali. From your belly. In and out slowly, okay? And keep your head still.” He scanned the room quickly and she had no doubt if there had been a sewing kit lying around, he would have stitched her up himself.

“She’s shocked out. Her breath is too fast and shallow,” Grady reached up and placed the back of his hand against her cheek, “and she’s sweating. Come sit down, honey.”

She took a step and the motion made her dizzy, Sam holding her steady when she rocked back on her feet. Moving on rubbery legs, she followed Grady by rote, Sam guiding her with a firm hand on her back. Stopping suddenly, she turned and looked behind her, needing to see it with her own eyes. Danny lay crumpled on the floor, his legs awkwardly bent beneath him, a sickening reddish-black puddle pooled under his head, soaking into the oatmeal colored sisal rug. His eyes were open, but vacant. And there was a single, gaping hole between them.

It started with a hiccup, and then a shuddering sob. And before she knew it, the fit of tears flowed freely down her cheeks, burning the numerous cuts on her neck as they trailed down into the thin towel, her shortened breath coming in liquid tremors.

Sam mistook them for sadness. “I had to do it, Ali. It was my only play.”

All she could do was blink at the earnest look in his distant eyes, wishing she had both the energy and the courage to admit to him that her tears were not from sadness or regret, but utter relief. Born of sheer, glorious liberation.

“Grab that blanket, Grady. I don’t want her back in the house until they take him out. And call CTS decon and get them over here pronto. As soon as the investigators are done, I want them ready to go in immediately. In and out in an hour, tops.”

Scorpio had a CTS decon company, short for crime and trauma scene decontamination, on retainer. And they did exactly what their name suggested. The dirty work. It was rare that their services were needed, but when the time came, they were damn handy to have nearby.

Stepping onto the back porch, Sam wrapped the chenille throw tightly around her with one hand, the other still holding the towel against her wound. Gently sitting her down in a cushioned chair, he kneeled before her, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “Everything’s fine now, Ali-cat. It’s okay,” he whispered urgently. “It’s over and done, and you’re fine. Don’t cry, babe. It tears me up inside.”

Before he could say more, the front door was thrown wide open and two navy blue uniformed police officers entered with their guns drawn, yelling for everyone to freeze. Ali wanted to laugh, the predictable command, along with their buzzed haircuts and puffed up chests, straight out of the latest network crime drama. She was glad she had the good sense not to, though, because the overzealous street cops took one look at the gun hastily shoved in the back of Sam’s waistband and a lifeless Danny lying on her living room floor, and decided to ask questions later.

They immediately—and roughly—cuffed a complacent Sam. And then a not so complacent Grady.

***

“Are you happy now, Ali? Are you finally fucking happy?” Sam paced the length of her living room and shouted the words at her, no longer able to maintain his composure.

She sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, her red, swollen eyes staring widely at him as if he were a total stranger. Well, thanks to her, he was certainly no stranger. In fact, the woman knew him inside and out, lying and manipulating him to suit her needs. Dragging him into her fucked up life, knowing he wouldn’t sit idly by as she was terrorized by her psychotic, control freak of an ex-husband. Grady stood loyally by her side, like he had the goddamn right. Like he was the one with the right to shield and protect her, fighting her battles in the name of love and honor. And from him, of all people. Well, not in this fucking lifetime.