Page 56 of Swallow Your Fear
“Now, Austin. It’s in my glove box.” But all that was there was another magazine filled with bullets.
He glanced between Lance and me twice before giving in and dropping his gun. He walked toward the passenger side of my truck, careful not to make any sudden movements. Lance kept his eyes on Austin the entire way, making sure he didn’t get any smart ideas, but he was looking at the wrong guy. Just like I’d expected he would.
I had one opportunity, and if I wasn’t extremely precise with my aim, Brynne would suffer the consequences.
That wasn’t something I was willing to let happen, so when I raised my pistol in their direction, with Lance’s attention still focused on Austin at my truck, I centered all my hopes and wishes on the trajectory of the bullet.
My finger squeezed the trigger, and then my heart stopped.
Chapter 23
Brynne
The shot rang through the night air, and not even a second later, the deadly grip on my arm disappeared. I stood frozen, my gaze focused on the gravel faintly illuminated by the full moon. My ears rang, my mind spun, and every part of me screamed to run.
Boots crunched over gravel at a sprint, and then strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me away from the body that I knew surely lay behind me.
“Brynne,” Booker’s voice echoed, piercing my foggy mind.
He dropped his arms, placing his rough-yet-comforting hands on my cheeks. I couldn’t see, but my eyes were open.
Lance was going to kill me.
“Brynne,” Booker repeated, and then someone was behind me, grabbing my hand.
I shrieked, my heart instantly threatening to beat itself into oblivion as I wanted to dart away. To be free from the fear that enveloped every one of my senses in this moment.
“Brynne, it’s okay.” Booker’s hands were on my shoulders,giving me no choice but to look at him as my vision finally let him in. “Austin is just going to cut the rope, okay? He’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
I nodded, swallowing the panic that still strangled my sore throat.
Booker’s hands slid up my neck to my cheeks again as his eyes roamed over me. I fought my instinct to run, instead standing as still as my trembling body would let me while Austin went back to working at the rope that burned my wrists. Once he cut through it, my hands fell to my sides. My shoulders ached as I looked down at the raw skin just below my hands.
With a delicate finger, Booker hooked my hair behind my ear to better survey my face. “Brynne, baby, what did they do to you?” His voice was merely a whisper, and it didn’t beg for an answer. One look at me and he could see the damage inflicted. They all could.
I sucked in a breath when he prodded the wound on my head, and a crease formed between his brows. Our eyes met, and I saw all the pain glistening bright as day in his. He’d been…worried. And I felt like shit for thinking he wouldn’t come. I’d been desperate, scared, and I didn’t want to put my bets on something that might not happen. But he’d come for me.Killedfor me. And not for the first time.
I didn’t hear as Henley approached, but saw the outstretched bottle of water. I raised a shaking hand to take it from him. “Thank you.” The two words were hoarse, and almost hurt to get out.
He dipped his chin in a nod, and I got the feeling he thought this was all his fault. But I didn’t blame him for any of this. My being here, abducted and injured, was no one’sdoing but Lance’s, and thankfully, he was now bleeding out mere feet behind us.
I didn’t uncap the water. Instead, my focus stayed on my wrists where the skin was broken, bruised, and bloody. Had I really struggled that hard? Given Lance the satisfaction that I was at his mercy?
Booker forced my attention back to him. “Hey. Look at me.”
I did, and then all I wanted to do was melt into him.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Booker asked.
The question itself was loaded, as I wasn’t sure where on my body I didn’t ache or burn.
With my hand not holding the bottle, I slowly brought it to my side where Lance had kicked me, but I didn’t look down as Booker did. His jaw pulsed before he grabbed my hand, wrapping his warm palm around mine. Then, with his other, he lifted the hem of the sweatshirt.
I knew it was bad when he hissed in a breath.
“Does it hurt to breathe?” he asked.
To make sure, I inhaled deeply, but only a little pinch of pain followed. I shook my head. My gaze found Austin’s where he stood off to the side. Sympathy was written all over him. They felt guilty, like this was somehow their fault.
