Page 63 of Lethal Seduction

Jake looks around the room and sighs. He must realize he needs to get up and off me at some point. Unless he plans on killing me right away, he needs to tie me up somewhere. Hekeeps the gun trained on my face but gets off my chest. He stands without so much as looking away from me for a fraction of a second.

“Get up,” he says. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

I sit up, then push myself into a standing position. I tower over him, and I feel great pleasure at the unease our size difference causes in his expression. He points the gun at my chest and says, “Go into the living room and sit on the floor. Keep your hands behind your back where I can see them.”

Doing as I’m told, I take a few steps forward and steal a glance behind me. That’s when he looks back at Joe. I turn, reach for his outstretched arm, and angle the gun away just in time to avoid the bullet.

The shot rings in my ears, but I’m used to the sound. With my other hand, I clock him right across the jaw and send him sliding across the floor. He comes to rest on his back a few feet away. He’s out cold. My first instinct is to run to Joe and check for his vitals.

As soon as I get to him, his eyes flutter open. I take his other hand and push it onto his gunshot wound. “Put pressure on this.” He winces but does as he’s told.

I hurry over to Patrick and begin untying his hands. As soon as he’s freed, he yanks off his gag. “Thank you,” he sighs.

A floorboard creaks behind me, and my entire body stiffens. Patrick’s eyes go wide, and he scrambles to his feet. Something heavy hits me in the back, and I fall onto the floor. Looking up, Patrick stands over me facing Jake, bow in hand, arrow pulled back ready to fire.

Fear takes hold of me. I push myself up and turn back, barely in time to see Jake standing over me with a baseball bat. Without time to move, I hear Patrick cry out and release the arrow. A thump to the back of my head sends my world into darkness, butthe sound of the arrow impacting Jake’s chest is the last thing I hear.

I regainconsciousness to the sound of sirens and the faint murmur of voices. My head throbs, and every movement sends a jolt of pain through my body. Blinking against the bright lights, I see Patrick kneeling beside me, his face etched with concern.

“Michael,” he says, relief flooding his voice. “You’re awake.”

“Patrick,” I croak, my throat dry. “Are you okay?”

He nods, tears welling in his eyes. “Thanks to you and Joe. Jake is... he’s dead.”

I turn my head slightly, seeing Jake’s lifeless body sprawled on the floor, an arrow protruding from his chest. Joe is being tended to by paramedics, his wound bandaged but still serious.

“Joe?” I ask, struggling to sit up.

“He’s going to be okay,” Patrick reassures me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder to keep me from moving too much. “The paramedics said he’ll recover.”

Relief washes over me, mingled with the lingering fear and adrenaline from the confrontation. “We need to get you to a hospital,” Patrick says, helping me to my feet as gently as possible. “You took a pretty hard hit.”

“I’m okay,” I insist, though my body protests every step. “Let’s get Joe to the hospital first.”

Patrick nods, supporting me as we make our way out of the house. The flashing lights of police cars and ambulances illuminate the night, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos we’ve just endured. Within a few moments, paramedics rush into the house and get Joe on a stretcher and wheels him out to the waiting ambulance.

As we reach the emergency vehicle together, Joe manages a weak smile. “Told you we’d get through this,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

I squeeze his hand, grateful beyond words for his resilience and partnership. “Yeah, we did,” I reply, my voice thick with emotion.

The paramedics load us into the ambulances, and as the doors close, I glance at Patrick, who’s holding my hand tightly. We’re safe, for now. But the journey ahead is uncertain, filled with healing and the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

And as the ambulance speeds toward the hospital, I silently vow to protect those I love, no matter what it takes.

27

PATRICK

"Stop," I say. "No more, Tina."

The incessant beeping sounds of the hospital machines next to my bed are driving me absolutely bat-shit crazy. Pulse, oxygen, breathing rate, EKG. What else do they measure, how many times I pass gas? Get a boner?

My mind drifts to Michael. He was lucky to make it out alive. The hellscape known as Jake’s house will not soon be forgotten.

"You have to rehydrate, and you haven’t even touched your water." She holds up a bathrobe-pink plastic container full of shaved ice and a spoon. "At least suck on some of this."

“Ugh. Fine.” I hold out my hand and take the small pitcher and spoon. I begin shoveling ice shavings into my mouth like a fat kid eating birthday cake.

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