Page 102 of Wicked Games

Jasmine emerged from the hole last. Her wide-eyed gaze briefly scanned the chaotic scenes unfolding in the room before landing on me. She hurried over. “I never thought I’d be so glad to see you!” she shouted over the commotion. Her eyes dropped to the ropes around my legs. “Is there a knife anywhere?”

“Try the desk!”

She ran over to the desk and quickly rummaged through the drawers. “Here!” she said triumphantly, rushing back over to me with a pair of scissors. “Even better!”

While she snipped at the ropes, rapidly freeing my limbs one by one, I watched Maverick and Mr. Garrick, who were still twisting and grappling in their desperate battle for control of the gun. Every time it wavered, barrel pointing in a different direction, I felt as if my heart was going to leap right out of my chest.

Maverick’s jaw clenched with determination as he tried once more to wrench the gun from Mr. Garrick’s grip. The barrel swiveled wildly, and then the two men twisted around so I could no longer see who had the upper hand.

A split-second later, a deafening gunshot shattered the air.

Maverick

The impact of the bullet in my upper arm barely caused any pain. I felt it happen, but it was a distant sensation, almost as if I were imagining it happening to someone else.

My adrenaline surged, and I lunged at Mr. Garrick and grabbed the end of the pistol, turning it upward so he couldn’t shoot me again. He jerked backward, gaining a momentary advantage as I lost my grip, but I took the opportunity to lunge forward again, slamming my elbow into his ribs.

He buckled, and the gun slipped out of his hand. It clattered on the floorboards, spinning away from us. Carey dove for it.

“It’s over!” I shouted, pushing Mr. Garrick against the same table we collided with earlier. “She’ll shoot you if you don’t stop!”

I was pretty certain that Carey had no idea how to use a gun, but Mr. Garrick didn’t know that. He lifted his hands in a shaky surrender, eyes going blank.

“Get on your knees,” Carey said, aiming the pistol right at him. She jerked her head toward Jasmine. “Bring me that rope.”

Jasmine picked up two lengths of rope from the floor and hurried over to help me tie up Mr. Garrick. When he wassecured, she darted around the room, searching for more ropes so we could properly restrain April and her mother.

While we waited, Carey kept a firm grip on the pistol, waving it back and forth between the two women to deter them from any attempts to hurt Zach and Brooke, who were keeping them pinned down.

A moment later, Carey’s eyes briefly flitted over to me. “I can’t believe you found me,” she murmured.

“Of course I did,” I replied, rubbing my left arm. “I always told you I’d get you out of here.”

Her gaze dropped to my bloody sleeve, and her brows shot up. “Oh, shit, he got you! I thought he miss—”

“It’s fine.” I cut her off, smiling faintly. “Just a graze.”

“No, we need to get help. It’s bleeding a lot.” She craned her neck and called out to Jasmine. “Look for a phone! Maverick’s been shot in the arm!”

Jasmine abandoned the search for the rope and hurried over to the desk. “I think this is a satellite phone,” she called out, holding up a large black phone that resembled a Walkie Talkie toy. “It should work even with all the cell signals blocked, right?”

“Yes. Hurry!”

She called 911 and blurted out our location and situation. When she was done, she headed over to us and gestured to me and Zach. “Take off your sweatshirts. I don’t think there’s any more rope in this room, and we need to tie up these two bitches.”

April glared at her. “You really think we’re going anywhere?” she asked in a hollow voice.

Jasmine’s lips curled in a sneer. “Probably not. But after all the shit I’ve seen you pull this week, I’m not willing to risk it,” she said. With that, she crouched down and slapped April across the face so loudly that the cracking sound echoed through the room. “That’s for Kiara. And the only reason I’m not taking that gun from Carey and shooting you in the head instead is becauseI want to see you rot in jail for the rest of your life, you fucking bitch.”

I pulled off my sweatshirt, grimacing as I slowly peeled the fabric over the injured part of my arm. I tossed it to Brooke and Jasmine, who used the long sleeves to restrain April’s wrists behind her back. At the same time, Zach used his own sweatshirt to tie a stony-faced Ruth to the nearest table leg.

While they worked on that, Carey put the gun down and clamped her right hand around the wound on my arm to stem the flow of blood. “Oh my god,” she muttered, eyes shimmering with tears. “This looks bad.”

“It’s fine. Just my arm. Besides, it was worth taking a bullet to stop these assholes from hurting you.”

Tears were spilling down her cheeks now. “I really thought I was going to lose you,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “They were going to kill you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me. I’m right here. Worst thing that’ll happen is a gnarly scar.”

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