Page 50 of Broken Love

“Everyone alright?” A chorus of yeses resound from everyone except Tuck, which I already knew.

“Tucker?” Windsor whines, and I realize she can see him now.

Standing up, I tell her, “Go to him and call for an ambulance. I’m going after Samantha.” Dare is on his feet with me, gun in hand. Heading to the safe in the wall next to the bathroom, I enter the code and pull out my own Glock. “Lux, you good?” She’s huddled under Tuck’s desk. “Can you help my brother? I don’t know how bad it is.”

“I’m good; I’ll take care of him. Find that bitch.” She rushes to the bathroom, presumably for towels, while Dare and I head out of the office.

“I’ll take the stairs; you grab the elevator,” I tell my brother-in-law. I need my hands on this bitch first.

Fucking coming after my woman, shooting my brother. Samantha will pay for the shit she’s caused. Before Windsor came in, announcing she was here, Boston and Dare had been asking about her. They discovered she had been low-key stalking us and even found footage of her at the hotel in Lake Placid. Just as we were about to call Beau, Windsor arrived, and everything exploded. Now, she’ll pay. I’d be happiest with her death, but I’m no murderer, so I’ll settle for her incarceration.

Quietly opening the stairwell door, I hug the wall as I search for her. I hear the clacking of heels as she runs down the stairs. She’s muttering something, but I don’t catch what.

Jumping down two or three steps at a time, I follow after her but remain out of her line of sight when she glances back to see if anyone is pursuing her. When I hear her stop two floors below, I continue to move stealthily as she breaks down into a sob and sits on a step.

Retrieving my phone, I wait until I’m closer before hitting the record button. A few seconds later, she starts speaking. “Stupid Samantha. Should have waited until the bitch was alone. I can’t believe the rat poison didn’t work, either.” I still can’t figure out how she knew Windsor's favorite cake, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Standing up, she lets out a huff, wipes her eyes with the back of her hands, and stomps down the steps, uttering, “I’ll get her next time. Hit her with my car if I have to.” This chick is unhinged.

I continue following her after pocketing my phone, remaining silent and out of sight. Once she exits the stairwell, she’ll be forced into the lobby, and I’m sure security will stop her for no other reason than she’s a stranger in our building, using a less-than-conventional way of exiting while in heels.

As soon as the door closes, I rush down and fly through it, just in time to see Dare putting her in a headlock as a security guard takes her weapon. She’s screaming profanities and struggling to get out of Dare’s hold, but he won’t release her.

“You got cuffs?” Dare asks the guard. I grab them off his belt before he can.

“Should have stayed away, Samantha.” I shake my head, angry and sad all at once.

“Can’t believe you two dated this psycho.” Dare glares at me, and I shrug.

The truth is, we went on two dates and didn’t feel any kind of connection with the woman—Tuck was bored halfway through the first one. She begged for the second, and I relented because what if our initial feelings were wrong? Turns out, they weren’t. This was also nearly eight months ago. She’s the last woman we dated, and there’s been no one since. Which I suppose, she could have taken as us maybe still wanting her. I don’t fucking know. Can you ever make sense of a mentally unstable person's actions? Probably not.

“You can’t do this to me!” she spits out.

Grabbing her chin, I squeeze until she stops squirming and looks me in the eye. “You fucking killed my baby, Samantha. There is nowhere you can go to escape our wrath now. Your life is fucking over, and there is nothing you can ever do about it. So just fucking stop.”

The wind flies out of her sails as she stares at me. “A baby?”

“Yeah, Windsor was pregnant with our child when you poisoned her. It killed the baby. Nearly killed her and us along with it. You fucked up big time.” For a moment, a very brief second, I see emotion in her eyes as she realizes she killed an innocent life.

“Who cares!” she shouts. “That whore deserves it for stealing you and Tucker away from me!” Ignoring her comment, I understand there is no arguing with her. I step back and allow Dare to deal with her as paramedics arrive.

“This way.” I lead them to the elevator and to our office, where Tucker is now sitting up against the desk, a mask of pain covering his face as Lux applies constant pressure to his wound and Windsor brushes her fingers through his hair, remaining the strong woman she never believes she is.

“You catch that bitch?” Tucker asks as the paramedics take over his care.

“Yeah, Dare is down there with security. They’re waiting on Beau.” Lux pales at the mention of our detective friend, and I feel for her, but my concern is Windsor and Tucker. “You good?” I nod at where blood has slowed to a trickle on his side.

“Yeah, Lux said it likely didn’t cause too much damage. Never stops hurting like a bitch, though.” He laughs, then groans.

The EMTs haul Tuck up on a gurney before taking him to the elevator and telling us which hospital they’ll go to. Lux rides with them as an extra set of hands in case she’s wrong, and things go south.

After checking on Arden and Boston, I grab Windsor's hand, and we head to the hospital together.

Tucker

Three times in my life I’ve taken a bullet. Once in Afghanistan—insurgent got me in the thigh. Broke my leg and had me laid up for six months before I was back in action. The second time was in Iraq, and I took it in the chest, but my vest prevented penetration. I walked away with three fractured ribs and four weeks of furlough. This time, I wasn’t expecting it, so I wasn’t in the same head space where I’d been anticipating getting shot. It hurts like a motherfucker.

“How you feeling?” Lux asks me for the fifth time since I was loaded up in the ambo.

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