Page 105 of Oliver

So far, this was a bust and I bite my lip on the disappointment while Oliver steps toward a darkened entrance and flips on the flashlight once more.

This, this is where I cry out and cover my mouth because the image emblazoned on my brain after Oliver clicks the light off will forever remain.

A girl, her vacant eyes staring at the ceiling and her wrists tied above her head with her legs splayed open, died with her now blue lips parted on a scream. The worst part was her head, resting macabrely on the pillow.

Fuck me, but I fight the vomit surging up my throat and gag. Behind me, Oliver says sharply, “Pull it together.”

Nodding, I sniffle into my hand and swallow the bile back down with a shudder. We were too late. Could I have saved her if I had come earlier?

With a moan, I step toward the stairs and Oliver says, “Don’t touch a fucking thing and wait there.”

“What are you doing?” I whisper as shuffling sounds break out from above. “Oliver?” I hiss but he ignores me until I step into his back. “Someone is coming.”

Oliver stiffens and grabs me up before setting me behind his back. I cling to him like a monkey because now I`m the barrier between him and the poor dead girl. It’s freaking me the fuck out.

After a moment though, he pushes me toward a door, and I squeeze in with him behind me before he slowly shuts it.

Wincing at the soft click, I bite my lip and hold my breath.

After searching over the counter with my fingers, I surmise that we’re in the bathroom. The counter digs into my hip and I have to hold onto Oliver to keep from falling over the tiny toilet. The only other space is the shower, gleaming in the moonlight through the frosted window but I’m not about to get trapped in there.

Oliver stands stiffly before me, and I feel a trickle of sweat slide down his neck as the faint shuffle of the man doing whatever beyond the door fills the silence.

My heart thunders so loudly, it pulses in my eardrums, and I wince when something bangs against the wall nearby.

“Easy,” Oliver whispers and I close my eyes.

Are we going to die? Like this? Trapped in a fucking boat named after a girl who was presumably taken by her father?

Suddenly, every single thing that happened before this moment ceases to matter and licking my lips, I lean into Oliver’s ear and whisper, “I don't know if I can forgive you, but I love you, Oliver.”

A shiver wracks his form, and he bows his head. With a small smile, I lean against his shoulder and close my eyes once more. I do love him. Why?

Who knows? He’s prickly, cold and standoffish but he’s also protective, strong and brilliant. He may be the hardest person in the world to get close to but he’s worth it.

Too bad I realized it while we’re facing certain death. Now would be a good time to consummate it, although he hasn’t exactly returned the sentiment.

He doesn’t have to though, because he’s standing between me and a murderous asshole.

If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

More banging breaks out, I shudder and bite back a scream. Fuck me but this is almost worse than just getting it over with. I might die of a heart attack before he catches us hiding out.

Ha! I wonder if Hate will take my advice. It’s a nonsensical thought right about now but I’d rather think about the fucker with pretty eyes than what’s about to happen.

When the door shudders before us, Oliver tenses as a deep voice says, “Come out nice and slow.”

Oliver seems to think about it while I hyperventilate behind him before he slumps and pushes the door slowly open.

The light blinds me and I blink before Mr. Cook comes into focus and I suck in a breath.

Of course, he’s holding a ginormous gun in his hands. Yep, this is it. Fuck me.

I can’t believe I actually felt sorry for this asshole.

“Just let her go,” Oliver says and the man chuckles.

“Funny. Come on out.”

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