Page 83 of Damaged

James comes nearer. He doesn’t seem to see me yet. He bends and presses the barrel of his pistol into one of the man’s wounds. He screams, and James’s voice comes out as smooth as velvet.

“Where’s the girl?”

Ski mask points a shaky finger over at me, and James stands straight. He pushes the reception desk out of the way and bends over to me. I want to scream that he’s in danger. That there’s more of them.

He puts his hand on the strip of duct tape on my mouth. “This is going to hurt.”

I nod, and he rips off the duct tape. “James, there’s more,” I spit out, and he stands and turns towards the back offices.

I hear tires squeal and an engine roar from the direction of the delivery door.

They’re leaving. James listens for a few seconds longer before he draws the same conclusion.

He takes his attention back to me and undoes the duct tape on my wrists and ankles. “Are you hurt?”

“My stomach.” I try to get up off the floor, but my ab muscles hurt too much from being kicked.

“You hurt her?” James asks my attacker and stands up.

I watch him lift his head weakly from the floor. He spits up blood. “If you don’t get pressure on these, I’m gonna die, man.”

“You deserve it,” James says over him.

“I’m unarmed. You don’t want me to die, man. You’ll get locked up. Please. The bitch got a kick to the gut. That’s it. She’ll be fine.”

I notice the man’s hand is creeping down to his boot. He’s sliding something up by a glossy black handle, and by the time I see the flash of silver, it’s almost too late.

“James! Knife!” I shout.

James’s eyes flash with anger. He takes a quick step so he’s farther away and then looks back to me.

He casually holds out the pistol behind him. He’s not even looking at the man when he pulls the trigger. There’s a pop and the rattle of the brass shell casing dancing on the floor.

Then James puts the gun in the back of his pants and picks me up off the floor.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the police?”

“So they force you to talk to them for half the night? I’m getting you out of here.”

I suddenly hear commotion as he walks with me in his arms, his footsteps crunching in the glass in the lobby. I’m confused as I see cameras flash. Pedestrians have begun to gather and gawk.

He opens the back door of the Mercedes and lays me across the back seat. Then he shuts the door, gets into the driver’s seat, and soon after, the car lurches forward.

I can hear sirens just a few blocks away.

“James… we need to talk to the police.”

“There’s plenty of time for that. I’m taking you home.”

“No!” I grunt, and pain burns in my abs as I reach forward. “Ugh. James, no. The man said they have pictures of my ID. They know where I live.”

“No one is going to go after you. If anything, they’re the ones who’ll be running scared.”

I know he’s probably right. But James just killed one of their associates. Maybe they only ran because they were unarmed.

They might seek vengeance. What if they were a crime family and he just killed their brother? They’d stop at nothing to get their revenge.

“James.” I hate to hear that my voice cracks and is shaky with tears. “I can’t go where they know I’ll be.”

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