Page 72 of Stealing His Cupcake
Oh, she’s good. If she weren’t the one to drag Wyatt here bleeding and probably drugged or with a serious concussion, I’d like her.
“You wanted Wyatt alive?” Slava asks, her hand still firmly grasping Wyatt’s upper arm. Logically, I know that she’s doing it to stop him from running or possibly from falling down, but I still don’t like it one bit. That’s my husband she’s touching! “This is Wyatt. Alive,” she continues. “Cut the crap and pay up so I can get out of here.”
“You can’t talk to me like that! I’m a customer!”
Slava snorts. “Oh, please. You’re a wimpy kid who hired a grown-up to do the job you were too afraid to do yourself. Not that this asshole,” she jerks on Wyatt’s arm, “posed any challenge.”
“Excuse me?!” Dropping the noose, Nolan pulls out his gun and aims it at the woman. She’s armed as well, and while I’m sure she could kill him five times over before he even got the gun out of the holster, she makes no move to defend herself, merely watching him with a raised brow as if she couldn’t believe his stupidity.
“You can’t talk to me like that,” Nolan repeats like a whiny broken record. “You’re just a woman! I’m better than you in every way.” His hand trembles, possibly with rage, but combined with his squeaky voice, it’s making him look like he’s afraid.
Sizing him up with an icy stare that would send me running for the hills, Slava smirks. “Try it. Pull the fucking trigger, kid. Let’s see who walks out of here alive.”
Despite having a clear advantage, Nolan hesitates. He’s either not ready to kill someone in cold blood, which I doubt, given what Wyatt told me about the “greeting card” Nolan made, or Slava’s reputation is scary enough to deter him from even trying. Looking at how confidently she carries herself, I’d bet it’s the latter.
“Well, I just meant it’s bad form to talk to your customers like that,” Nolan says as he lowers his gun. God, he really is a wimp. “Bring him here.”
As they maneuver Wyatt to stand on a half-rotten crate, I try to figure out if I could convince Slava to help us. She clearly doesn’t like Nolan, which is no surprise, but I doubt that’s enough to turn her against him. How much has he paid her for capturing Wyatt? Do we have enough money to outbid Nolan? But wouldn’t Wyatt have tried it already?
That particular theory is confirmed when Wyatt gives Slava a pleading look. “Think about my offer.”
She shuts him down with a scoff. “Fuck you, Wyatt.”
Okay, there goes that plan. And now we’re in even deeper trouble since Nolan hooks the rope over a support beam, ties one end off, and approachesWyatt with the noose on the other end. Dammit! Wyatt can barely stay upright on solid ground, let alone balance on a crate with a rope around his neck. If Nolan gets that noose on Wyatt, it’s all over, because there’s no chance in hell I could fight off one armed killer, let alone two.
Wyatt seems to realize the same, because grim determination flashes through his eyes. Knowing he’s about to do something desperate, I spring onto my feet just as he yells, “RUN, AMY!” and throws his entire weight on Nolan. Since Wyatt is at least fifty pounds heavier than the lanky kid, they both come crashing down on the floor in a tangle of limbs. That’s where Wyatt’s advantage ends, though, because he’s still tied up and disoriented. Screaming, Nolan shoves Wyatt off, blood spurting from his ear where Wyatt must have bitten him.
I should run. Wyatt did this to give me a chance. I’m not tied up, and no one’s really paying attention to me at the moment. I should take this chance, possibly my last chance to save my life, but I don’t. Like every stupid character in every movie ever, I run toward the danger, because there’s no fucking chance I’m leaving Wyatt behind.
The golden gun glints in the dim light, the barrel pointing at Wyatt. From that distance, there’s no chance Nolan would miss, and I’m far, too far to get to him in time. Screaming Wyatt’s name, I sprint for Nolan, my steps not eating the distance far enough. Just as I’m convinced that Nolan will kill Wyatt, he turns the gun on me and pulls the trigger.
Well, fuck.
Chapter 51
Wyatt
Theshotringsout,deafeningly loud. Like in slow motion, I watch Amy stumble as the force of the impact knocks her back. Without uttering a single noise, she collapses to the floor.
My heart shatters.
“No. NO!” I want to roar out those words, but all I manage is a pathetic whimper. I can’t breathe, my chest constricting so hard there’s no space inside for my lungs. Black spots dance before my eyes, blurred with all the tears suddenly spilling out.
I should be doing something. Go to her, hold her, fucking avenge her, but even as Nolan turns back to me and starts furiously kicking every part of my body he can reach, I find myself unable to move.
What’s the point? What’s the point of fighting back? What’s the point of revenge? Amy is gone. I will never get to kiss her again, I will never get to hear her laugh again. I will never taste her fucking cupcakes again because she’s dead, and it’s all my fucking fault. Nolan might have pulled the trigger, but it was me who put her in the line of that bullet. Me. Everything that happened to her is my fault.
The pain wrecking my heart is so terrible that I barely even notice Nolan’s boot hitting my ribs. A few crack and I find myself hoping that one of them will pierce that stupid organ still beating in my chest. That it will end this suffering. What right do I have to live when Amy is dead?
Dead.
I’m full on sobbing now, like the pathetic piece of shit I am, and all I wish for is for someone to finally kill me. Blood mixes with my tears as Nolan’s boot slams into my face, flattening my nose.
“Jesus Christ, that must have been one hell of a cunt if you miss her so much,” Nolan taunts. Blood streams down the side of his face from where a piece of his ear is missing. The same blood that’s still on my tongue. Disgusting. And pointless. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t—
“I might have to try her out before she goes cold.”
The words pierce through the fog surrounding my mind, turning my sight red. What did that fucker just say?!
