Page 117 of Free to Judge
I take in the damage in one glance before shouting, “We need a medic!”
Keene’s patented smirk makes an appearance before he calls, “We need two if you want this one-legged arse to appear in court.”
At that, her lashes flutter. “You heard?”
I smooth her hair away from her battered and bruised face. “Jon did. He recorded most of what you said.”
She takes a breath and groans before coughing. “Hurts.”
Keene makes his way over to his daughter. “Baby, let me take care…”
“It’d be murder. Not like him.” With that, her energy fails her and her body slumps to the side.
Jack wheezes in agony.
I shout, “Keene, stuff something in him to keep him alive, but shut him the fuck up.”
His eyes glitter. “With pleasure. Give me your belt.”
I quickly undo my utility belt one handed before whipping it out as I let Kalie’s body rest on mine. I don’t want to lay her down on the cold floor, not without the paramedics there. Nor do I want to disrupt the crime scene so I can’t even release her from her restraints.
Instead, I bury my head into her neck and take stock as my tears soak her bare shoulder.
Her glorious ball gown is torn and stained with dirt and something darker. I run my hands up and down her ribs, noting when her breath catches. “I think her ribs are cracked.”
“Is she still conscious?” Keene demands as he yanks as hard as he can on the stub of Jack’s right arm. Jack’s slipping into unconsciousness until Keene slaps him to rejoin the party. “Hello, Dad.”
“K-Keene.” Terror and pain riddle Jack’s voice.
“After all these years, if you wanted my attention so bad, all you had to do was drop by the office on family day. Might have cost you a lot less.” Keene slips the other belt beneath Jack’s knee and yanks it as tight as he can.
Jack screams in agony before he passes out.
Just then, two teams of medics arrive, as well as the NYPD and the FBI. With the addition of the last, I’m in no way surprised to see Caleb and Holder bringing up the rear.
Keene immediately steps back when the medics reach Jack. After ordering, “Don’t lose sight of him.”
“I won’t, Keene. Swear it,” says Holder.
With that vow, Keene heads in my direction to crouch at my side as the medics document Kalie’s condition. The FBI and NYPD both document her wrist ties being clipped. “Jack had better be grateful she’s still breathing,” I snarl as her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.
Jon and his father approach. Jon hands Holder his phone with the recorded evidence. Then he smooths a hand over his cousin’s head. “You made me proud, Kalie.”
For just a moment, after hearing Jon’s voice, Kalie’s eyes flutter. Then they dart in my direction.
I think she relaxes when she sees me, but for now, I need to believe there was a flicker of recognition and a sigh before she passed out from the pain.
“Let’s get them to the hospital. Stat,” I order.
Holder says, “We’ll follow you there. When they’re ready, we want to be first on scene to get statements.”
“The others?” Jon asks cooly.
“Already in the back of our shops,” the NYPD chief assures us. “This is fairly open and shut for us.”
If only it were that way for my relationship with Kalie.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
