Page 86 of Allison

“Hold it steady!” He shouts at the driver. Then resumes his stance, ready to repeat his actions.

A sharp crack resounds. Bruno crumples down into the car, nearly landing on Allison. With a shriek she gives him a shove. His limp body tumbles into the open compartment across from her. Deep red blood is flowing from his head. Some of it has gotten on Allison as well.

Allison screams, terror rolling through her. Claymore is shouting, but Allison can’t focus on what he’s saying. Bruno’s unseeing eyes are staring straight at her, while a large drop of crimson trails from the hole between his eyes. A sharp slap to the side of her face brings her out of her hysterical trance. “Shut up! I can’t hear myself think. Get us to Mingham’s you buffoon!” Claymore shouts toward the front of the vehicle.

The driver mutters something under his breath, but stomps on the gas throwing them all back against the seats. Bruno’s body tumbles onto the floor board. Allison shudders. At least his face is down now, hiding his eyes, but the gaping hole where the back of his head used to be is now visible. Blood and brain matter glistening in the passing light as they speed down an urban street. Allison tries to look away, but bile is rising in her throat at the sight.

The metallic tang of blood in the air combined with the motion of the car as it speeds down the highway is too much for Allison’s poor body to handle. A fountain erupts from her mouth spraying all over what is left of Bruno. Once she’s started she can’t stop, heaving over and over again. Claymore is yelling and gagging beside her.

All the while, the chopper is keeping pace with them as they go. Allison can only assume someone in the chopper had shot Bruno.Did that mean they were trying to rescue her or is this someone that Bruno or Claymore has pissed off?The limo veers to the right slinging Allison closer to the Senator. She has nothing left in her stomach, but continues to dry heave. She pushes away from him, not wanting the bastard to touch her, but he grabs her upper arm. Fear causes her nausea to ebb, even though the smells in the car aren’t helping.

“Uh huh,” he growls. “You stay next to me. I’m not going to end up like Bruno.”So, the asshole is going to use her as a human shield?Allison pulls against his hold. “You’re my get out of jail free card, Ms. Simpson. I’m not going to let you get away. Don’t make me have to hurt you.” His grip tightens on her arm causing her to wince in pain. She stops trying to fight him. She needs to bide her time, wait for an opening.

“We are here, but it’s gated!” the driver yells. Claymore curses, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Yes! We are here. Please let us in! Someone has been following us. They’ve shot my bodyguard,” Claymore says frantically into the phone. “We need immediate assistance. I have a woman with me. She needs protection!”

“Help! He’s ho—” Allison’s attempt to tell whomever he called that she was being held hostage ended with the back of Claymore’s hand striking her mouth. Her lower lip splits, blood bursts from the wound to dribble down her chin. She clamps her hand to her face to stem the flow.

“Stupid bitch!” Claymore shouts.

“Excuse me?” A female voice on the other end of the line replies incredulously. “Calling me a bitch isn’t going to help your cause, Henry.”

“I’m so sorry, Alisha. That comment wasn’t directed at you, darling,” Claymore coos. “I believe this reporter, who claimed to want to do an exclusive interview with me, is a covert operative sent to assassinate me. Please just let us in. I can explain everything once we are safely inside your property.”

“Alright, Henry,” the woman replies, though her voice sounds stilted and rehearsed. “I’m opening the gate now. Some of my security guards will be available to help with whatever you need. Should I call the police?”

“No!” Claymore yells, then calms himself. “No, darling that won’t be necessary. I’ll call my contact at Homeland, I’m sure they’ll send someone.” Claymore ends the call as the limo pulls through the gate.

Allison is still pressed against Claymore’s side. His clammy hands on her body combined with the foul scents in the car push Allison’s body to its limits. Claymore opens the door when the limo rolls to a stop. Allison pushes against him attempting to climb over his lap to escape. Despite having thrown up multiple times in the limo, her body apparently isn’t done. Claymore grips her arm to hold her in place, but she manages to lunge across his lap, past the threshold of the door to vomit on the bricked driveway.

“Disgusting!” Claymore groans. “Get her!” He grumbles to the driver who is standing with the driver’s door open watching the scene unfold, but making no effort to move. “For God’s sake do something!”

The driver does a slow blink at them. Then he walks over to take Allison by the upper arms, extracting her from the vehicle. His hold is gentler than Allison expects. Once she is out of the limo, he begins to lead her toward the front door of the mansion they’ve parked in front of. He pushes her in front of him, as if he wants to put himself between her and Claymore, who is trailing behind them.

Allison takes in the bricked stairs leading up to a full length wide covered porch. The building is white with tan trim. Clusters of wicker furniture don the length of the porch. A few potted plants add some color to all the whiteness of the home and décor. Allison wonders whose home they have arrived at. Will they help her, or are they in the same league as Claymore?

When they reach the top step, the two tall wooden doors, with glass inserts and tall narrow windows framing either side of them, open up at the same time. What happens next occurs so quickly, Allison can’t wrap her mind around it. Several things happening all at once. The driver who’d been leading her up the stairs suddenly pushes her in front of him toward the opening doors. A large hand grabs her wrist, yanking her into the house and pushing her behind one of the large wooden doors into a large body. More hands grab her, lifting her off her feet, and carrying her up a staircase. All the while, she can hear shouting and gun fire. The chopper's steady beat makes up more background noise.

The person carrying her reaches the top of the stairs and turns right heading into a brightly lit bedroom. A massive bed with a beautiful handmade quilt covering the top takes up most of the room. Large fluffy pillows are propped up along the headboard. Her captor carries her over and lays her down gently on the soft mattress.

“Sugar, are you alright?” Russell’s deep voice shatters what little control she’d been holding onto during her ordeal. Her mind must be fracturing from the fear and stress of the last few months, not to mention what she’d seen, heard, and lived through in the last two hours. An agonizing cry leaves her. She is convinced she’s hallucinating. There’s no way Russell is here at this house. How could he be?

Allison fights the hold of whomever is holding her. Swinging as hard as she can, connecting with the offender’s face. The man grunts. His face is set in a hard, determined line, but his hold on her remains gentle. He manages to block her next blow and eventually gets both of her wrists in one of his large hands. “Sugar, please stop fighting me. You’re going to hurt the baby.”

Those words coming from imaginary Russell are like a bucket of ice water. She stops, her body shaking uncontrollably. How could this figment of her imagination know about the baby? Well duh. It’s her imagination! “Allison!” She blinks, staring into his beautiful green eyes. Another slow blink and she’s beginning to believe Russell is really here with her. “Baby, talk to me. You’re scaring the fuck out of me.”

“Russell?” Allison still can’t fathom that he is here, holding her, that he knows she’s carrying his child. Her trembling hand reaches up to touch the side of his scruffy face. Closing her eyes, she caresses his skin, knowing the feel of him even though it’s been so long since she’s touched him. Her other hand clasps the other side of his face, rubbing along his strong jaw. Slowly she opens her eyes, peering into his sea-green depths. “Is it really you? You’re here?”

“Yes, sugar. I’m here,” Russell says, pulling her into his chest, cradling her head to his chest. “God, baby, I’ve never been so scared. I didn’t want to let you get out of my sight, but it was the only way to get you away from him safely.”

“What happened? How are you here? Why did the driver help you get me?” Russell’s finger comes up to lay over her lips, halting her endless line of questions.

“I’ll explain everything in a minute,” Russell says. His voice cracking a little. “I just need to check you over.” His hands frame her face, tilting her head back so he can inspect the damage to her lower lip. His handsome face curls up into a snarl as he looks her over. His hands move down gently, sliding over her arms, her back, then her legs. When his eyes find hers again, he looks thoroughly pissed. “Who hit you? Claymore or the other bastard?”

“Claymore,” Allison admits. “He was angry when I tried to tell the person he was talking to that he’d kidnapped me.” Russell’s jaw twitches as if he is gritting his teeth hard. Allison wants to soothe the hard lines in his brow. “I’m okay, truly.” She leans in to press a kiss to his jaw.

Suddenly, she’s on her back. Russell is hovering over her, stealing her breath with his kiss. His tongue demands entrance into her mouth. Allison opens, letting him devour her. Their tongues tangle, stroking one another, in a long sensuous dance. She’s breathing hard when at long last he releases her mouth and buries his face in her neck.

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