Page 54 of The Other Side of Apart
Our faces are inches apart as he spits threats, and when they turn to Mei, all sense fades. I hurl him to the ground, flying over him and crashing into the couch. Something metal clatters across the floor, and my head snaps toward a shiny, black gun spinning on the linoleum. I scramble after it, but Nick’s faster, one foot stepping on the gun, the other slamming into my face.
Hot pain sears the inside of my nose, stars bursting and circling in the blackness smothering my mind. My arm is yanked from behind, my shoulder ripping from its socket, and Nick drags me to my feet.
I yell a string of profanities, agony welling and overflowing as red, pulsing rage. Twisting, I launch myself at him, bulldozing him into the door, one hand locked around his neck, the other hanging limply at my side.
He rips my fingers off his neck and shoves me. I hit the ground hard, and he lunges for me, but I roll out of the way. Using my good arm, I haul myself across the floor, focused on my phone on the counter. The sound of a gun being cocked sends me to my stomach, bracing for the bullet that will end everything.
“Get up,” Nick orders from behind me, breathing heavily. “I won’t ask twice.”
Blood streams from my nose and drips down my lips. I’ll kill him. First chance I get, he’s dead. I use my working arm to push myself to my feet, then turn slowly, my stomach ripping apart when I straighten. My body is on fire, blood dripping off my chin as I meet Nick’s hollow eyes.
He raises the gun, aiming it at my chest from where he stands across the kitchen. The refrigerator clicks on, its hum growinglouder in my empty, whirling mind, my thoughts shoving me toward the door, the kitchen window—out. But even from across the room, the gun’s cold stare needles through me.
“I came to reclaim what’s mine, and I have a strict policy to leave nothing behind.” Nick’s finger moves on the trigger.
“She’s not yours,” I growl through gritted, bloodied teeth. “Never has been, never will be.”
Nick laughs. “You think I’m here for her? She stole something from me, and if you give it to me, I won’t kill you.”
Footsteps echo outside the door and, afraid it might be Mei, a rush of adrenaline sends me sprinting toward him, but a deafening roar ricochets off the inside of my skull. My ears ring, and a flash of heat cuts through my leg.
Someone screams, and my teeth crash together when I hit the floor, my hand clapping over the hole in my jeans where red bubbles are soaking through the denim. Nick flies past me and bolts from the apartment, his footsteps rumbling down the hallway as my eyes slide to our neighbor lady, who blurs before fading to nothing.
CHAPTER 30
The end of my shift can’t come fast enough. I’m still laughing at the selfie Marcus sent me of his shocked face after I sent him a text during my break, detailing the dream I had the night before. It had nothing to do with restocking canned beans, and the prospect of going home has my head floating far, far away from aisle eight. Only forty-three minutes until?—
“Peggy?”
I glance up at my manager whose penciled-in brows are furrowed. Sylvia hesitates as if she’s not sure how to say what she’s about to say, and dread snakes in my stomach. “There’s someone on the phone. Your neighbor, I think? Says it’s urgent. There’s been an accident of some kind. With Darius.”
I don’t hear anything else as I run to the break room and grab the phone where it’s sitting upside down on a folding table. “Hello?”
“Peggy, it’s Amy.” Amy. Not neighbor—apartment manager.
My mouth goes dry as she talks, my mind sorting information into any place that means Marcus isn’t really at the hospital because he was shot.
Shot. Like…with a gun. That’s what she said, but my brain rejects it, and my body takes over. Hanging up, I grab my coat and bag and rush from the break room, through the store, and out the front sliding doors. Silvie is on my heels, asking me if everything is okay, but I just shake my head and keep running until I reach the curb. I have no car, no way to get to the hospital except to keep running.
I take off, but Silvie calls my name, her voice a ripple on the air that reaches me. I slow, and her hand grabs my elbow. “Peggy, stop—I’ll take you. Where is?—”
“Deaconess Midtown Hospital,” I choke, and she nods and puts her arm around me, steering me toward her car at the very far end of the parking lot.
My legs can’t feel anything as I slide into the passenger seat. My mind spins, trying to gain traction while Silvie pulls into traffic, but I’m shaking too hard, my coat and bag still gripped in my hand. Silvie doesn’t say anything until she pulls up to the emergency room doors. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
I shake my head and thank her, and then I’m hurling myself through sliding doors, scanning the ER waiting room. Police officers are talking to a paramedic, a doctor, a few nurses. I step to a desk in the center. “Marcus Miller?” I blurt, my voice loud, uncontrolled, and edged with panic.
The woman turns to her computer, types, and looks up. “We don’t have a Marcus Miller here. Maybe at Gateway?”
Fear and realization hit me at the same time, and I shake my head. “Sorry. I…I’m looking for Darius Bromley.”
She studies my face. “May I ask your relation?”
“His wife.”
She blinks at me, like she’s trying to think of words. “Your name?”
“Peggy Bromley.”
