Page 96 of Guarded from Havoc

Then he cocks the trigger, the small sound deafening.

Panic shakes my body as the memories slam back into me.

The island.

The gunfire.

The explosion.

The orange sneakers.

The blood.

A small moan creeps up my throat.

Erik reaches behind him, clamping his arm around me. Holding me still. “She’s not going anywhere,” he replies. “And whatever you think you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work. So put your gun down before someone gets hurt.”

“NO! You have to pay for what you did! Both of you!”

Pay?

Is he talking about Demetrius? Is this someone the FBI and B and A missed?

Or could he be linked to Daniel? Paid to fly across the country to exact revenge?

“Don’t move,” Erik says in a low murmur. “No matter what.” Then he releases me and ever so slowly reaches beneath his shirt.

To the gun I know he keeps there whenever he leaves the house. A Sig, he told me. And when the counselor gives the okay, he’s going to show me how to use it, so it hopefully won’t be a trigger anymore.

Remembering that Erik has his gun eases my fear. Not entirely—we still have a crazed man aiming a gun at us—but I feel better than before.

This time when I peek around Erik to look at the man, I notice some things I didn’t the first time around.

Like how his hand is trembling slightly, almost like he’s nervous to use the gun.

Like the fear in his eyes and the way his gaze keeps darting around nervously.

“I want to see her!” he snaps. “Get that bitch?—”

“Don’t youdarecall her a bitch.” Erik’s voice vibrates with barely controlled rage. “And you need to stop this. Right thefucknow.”

I look at the man’s face again. Forcing my memories back so I can focus on the present. To try to figure out?—

Past and present collide.

Oh, crap.

I know who this is.

“Erik,” I whisper. “It’s the man from the island.”

“What?” Erik asks under his breath. “The man—” He stops.“Fuck.”

I’m not surprised Erik didn’t recognize him right away. Back on the island, the man was covered in blood, his face included. And he probably weighed a good fifty pounds more back then. This man is still large, thick with fat that probably used to be muscle, but there are new angles to his features. A gauntness that comes from sudden weight loss.

Weight loss from being in a psych ward? From suffering a psychotic break with reality?

“He still thinks we did it,” I hiss. “Thatweput him on the island.”

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