Page 69 of Make You Mine

My door is closed, and just as I place my key inside the lock, the blast of a gun breaks the silence. It’s loud, and so is the pure scream of panic that comes from Ava’s body.

Fuck the structure. I kick it in and rush toward the sound of her voice. They’re inside my room. The closer I get, the clearer I can hear his words and how he taunts her.

“Come out, little one,” he croons just as I step within sight. He’s sitting on my bed, twirling his gun while watching the closet door. He doesn’t see me. He’s too sure of himself. “The faster I correct this defiant behavior, the happier you’ll be. A little pain for a lifetime of my love and devotion.”

“Please stop,” I hear Ava cry out, the fear in her voice palpable. “Leave, and I won’t call the cops.”

“Not until I break you, love. Until you bleed for me.” Lyle looks a mess, dirty and desperate. His arm shakes as he points the gun toward the door, finger on the trigger. “We can do this the easy way or hard way, Sugar. Your choice.”

“Leave!” That scream is pure horror and pain. It strikes across my chest as if it were a cat-o'-nine-tails whip with sharp metal tips. A punishment for not being here to protect her.

“Open the door, Ava, and I’ll begin to forgive you.”

“I’m not yours!”

“Wrong choice.”

Jason still hasn’t noticed me. Something about the way he’s acting makes me think that he’s under the influence of a narcotic: eyes glassy and body slightly trembling. And it’s while his hand shakes and another bullet dislodges from the gun that I fully enter the room. Ava screams from the other side, and the phone inside my pocket vibrates within seconds of my entry.

Behind me, I can hear the rest of our team pausing. They’re waiting on my call, but my focus is on him. My target. The next body to fall.

As that finger twitches again, ready to fire, I pull my own. Watching in almost slow motion as a bullet leaves my gun and flies through the air at a speed he can’t detect. It hits his side, right between his ribs, and he falls back onto my mattress.

His shirt—old and dirty—is colored red. The splotch grows as the seconds tick by.

His eyes shift to mine, surprised but not shocked to see me. Instead, a cruel smirk forms on his lips. “About time you showed up, Detective. Nice to see you again.”

“Rot in hell, Porter.” I’m not playing his game. Instead, I pull the trigger again. And again. The second and third bullets hit his midsection, his body convulsing on the bed, and yet, Lyle still fires his weapon. It hits the drywall encasing the steel structure, and I reciprocate with the same amount of anger.

I empty the first clip as my girl yells from inside. The second is merely for my amusement,

bullet after bullet entering his body, and the fucker still rises from the bed. He comes toward me, bloody and knocking on death’s door but unwilling to give up.

He stumbles, pointing his gun, but when he tries to fire back...nothing. He’s out of bullets and losing blood fast. One step forward becomes a crashing fall to the floor, and still, I do not pity a dying man.

Fuck him.

This pain is nothing compared to what the asshole deserves.

Pulling my other guns from its holster, I stand over his semi-lifeless body. Our eyes meet. His next breath is almost choking, and still, I fire once more. Right between the eyes.

The small hole in his forehead is proof of his passing. One stuttered breath, and he’s gone.

No longer a danger to my girl.

Without pausing, I drop my weapon and rush toward the closet, banging on the door. “Baby, it’s me. Open, please.”

“Eli?”

“I’m here, sweetheart.” It takes a minute or two for her to open, but when she does, the relief in her eyes almost bowls me over. Ava flies into my arms, wrapping her small body around mine and clinging—holding me tight with her eyes closed as I turn her away from his lifeless form.

She’s shaking. Afraid. Sobbing. “He...I...”

“Are you hurt?” I want to pull back and check her out, but the way she’s clinging to me makes it impossible. And I wouldn’t take my comfort from her. I’m here to be whatever she needs. “Can you answer one thing, beautiful? Did he?—?”

“He didn’t, but I kicked him. I fought back…” a sob catches in her throat “…oh, God!”

“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her forehead, my arms wrapping tight and giving her the comfort she needs. “He’s dead. No more fear.”

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