Page 93 of Her Faithful Protector

We’re still nose to nose, our lips hovering over each other, and I murmur, “About what you said to Willem. About having more children?—”

“I only wanted to make him stop,” she quivers.

“I know. But can I say this, Ava. I will make it happen. Because I love you, and I want to be a dad—again.” I kiss her, a smile blossoming beneath my lips. I reluctantly end the kiss simply because I yearn to witness that smile.

Finally, we hear Tyler’s voice coming from outside the bulletproof window.

“Ty, in here!” I yell back as loudly as I can. Then I remember. “Whatever you do, don’t touch that yellow lever! Do not touch the yellow lever!”

I look around, trying to figure out how to let him in. I turn to Ava and ask, “How did they bring me here, sweetheart?”

Laboriously, she rises from her position and makes her way across the room, kneeling next to Willem’s lifeless body. She rummages into his pockets, then takes out a set of keys, separating one that looks like a small, stainless-steel stick.

I grin. “Good girl!”

She comes to a section of the wall that doesn’t appear to be a door, but she knows better. As she inserts the stick into a small hole, a hidden section slides open. “Ty, this way!” she calls out.

Noticing that her shirt is stuck under Willem, saturated with his blood, she grabs my jacket that the bearded man had tossed aside. She puts it on, stuttering as she slips her left arm into the sleeve. My heart is heavy, wishing I could be there for her.

Ty emerges, observing Ava’s bandaged hand. “Are you okay, Ava?”

“I’m fine. Help my man off that chair. He looks terrible there.” Ava gestures toward me.

Tyler straightens the chair and starts cutting the tape on my healthy arm, peeling it off. I immediately hook my free arm around Ava’s waist, drawing her to me.

I feel her close, but something isn’t right. Her face slumps onto me, as pale as if all her blood had been drained.

“Ava?” I call out.

It’s clear that her body has reached its breaking point. She slips from my grasp, but I hang on to her. My other arm strains as Tyler prepares to remove the tape from it.

“Ava, can you hear me?” I shake her gently, hoping to awaken her. But there’s only labored breaths coming out of her mouth. “Ty!” I stop my partner. “Take her to the hospital now!”

Feeling herself separated from me, Ava writhes. “Jack…I’m not leaving you!” Her eyes are full of determination, but her voice comes out as a series of huffs.

“Sweetheart, go with Tyler. I won’t be far behind,” I beg, and she relents.

With her last bit of strength, she kisses me before allowing Tyler to lift her.

Tyler flinches at his unfinished work—my left arm remains stuck to the chair. He says to me, “The LAPD and paramedics shouldn’t be far away. I’ll call Sam as soon as I get a signal outside.”

“Go! I’ll be fine!” I assure him, then raise my hand in salute to the man who has saved my life tonight.

He simply nods before he carries Ava outside.

I gingerly continue what Tyler has started, peeling the tape around my injured arm. But I don’t get much further.

Mother of hell!

I exhale silently. Even with those two dead jerks around, I’m determined to keep my agony unheard.

Just then, someone arrives, and I can’t believe my eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here, Sam?” I grind my teeth in irritation. “Where’s the LAPD?”

“They’re on their way, the paramedics too. Damn politics got in the way. Everybody wanted jurisdiction over Willem Botha. I came here as fast as I could,” he explains.

I wriggle my bound arm, assessing the number of loops I still need to unravel.

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