Page 113 of Holiday Hostage
That was our sole mission.
Protect the woman we loved.
32
PAYTON
I blinked, then widened my eyes, desperate to keep track of the mirage happening right in front of me.
Mav, Tarron, and Reed burst into the room with a clanging roar as the door nearly fell off its hinges.
They wore enough weapons to take down a small army, and I caught myself when I started trying to count them in some kind of attempt to hold the vision in place.
Jack leaped away from me when the door slammed back.
The knife he’d been pressing into my cheek swung around, then clattered to the floor as he tried to whip his pistol from the holster at his back.
Reed and Mav dove for Jack. Mav shouted, “Don’t discharge your weapon unless you have to. It’ll ricochet.”
Reed grunted, and then his arms were around Jack’s waist, and the two of them staggered backward. Mav ripped the gun from Jack before it cleared the holster and shoved it into his pocket.
Tarron rushed toward me and fell to his knees. “Payton?”
I shook my head slowly. “You’re not real.” I didn’t dare look away from Jack.
Either I was dead already and I’d found them in the afterlife—an afterlife which didn’t exactly embody what I’d expected of death—or I’d suffered a mental breakdown.
Both options sucked.
Mav wrenched Jack’s arms behind his back and wrapped a white cord around them.
Jack winced and twisted, which caused him to fall toward the right.
Reed went down with him, making sure he didn’t break free of the restraints.
“Can I kill him?” Reed straddled Jack’s waist, his pistol jammed into the bottom of Jack’s jaw, and his finger tightening on the trigger.
“Don’t. Please don’t kill me. It’s not my fault.” Jack blubbered and twisted. His shoulders skated across the concrete floor.
He tried to work his way out from under Reed, but he moved with Jack, never letting the gun slacken against his jaw.
Mav grimaced as he shook his head. “No. We’ll let the law handle Jack.” He rolled to his feet and brushed his hands against his thighs.
Reed, still staring down at Jack, asked, “Then can I at least knock out a few teeth?”
Jack continued to splutter and plead.
It should make me feel good.
Hearing him beg as I’d begged was the ultimate revenge.
But all I felt was a deep, empty hollowness.
A cold feeling pitched in the bottom of my stomach, the weight of it like a rock in my gut.
I whimpered and tried to cross my arms over the uncomfortable feeling, but they were still pinned behind my back.
Tarron sawed at the restraints around my ankles.
