Page 97 of Switch
Not someone.PJ.
Relief floods my body.I pull in a deep breath, only for the smoke to make me cough and sputter.
Scotty’s distraction causes him to stumble backward, and then I really do go after his kneecap.
From the corner of my eye, PJ appears to be wailing on Eric with…a baseball bat?He’s managed to get some good hits in, and the blood running down Eric’s face is gratifying.
The glint of Eric’s gun has me rushing forward, but fucking Scotty spins me around with his fist cocked.I duck and aim for his stomach, shoving him backward with a pained “oof.”It almost works.He loses his footing, bracing himself in the doorway to Marina’s studio.
The studio.With the external electronic lock on the door.
Channeling PJ’s fighting growl.I get as much of a running start as I can in the hallway, and then I throw all of my weight into Eric’s henchman.Hard.
There’s a jarring pain in my shoulder and a rattle in my teeth as Scotty stumbles back into the room.The second I hear his body thump to the floor, I slam the door shut.My hand hits the lock on the keypad, and I allow a quick sigh of relief.
Looking for PJ, I race for the stairs, ignoring the thumps and shouts from behind the locked door.
Eric must have pushed him down the stairs.Worse, he’s gotten hold of PJ’s bat.
“No.No!”My legs are jelly.I’m racing through quicksand.
Eric looks dazed, staggering as he makes his way toward PJ.PJ, who’s on his back with one hand to his forehead.There’s a head wound I can’t see.There must be, because he’s got blood running into his eyes.
I’m not even sure he can see.
The man I love is grasping, reaching, trying to move.But he isn’t.He can’t, and Eric is standing over him with the bat in one hand.
I’m not sure how I make it to the bottom of the stairs, only the pain of hitting my elbow on the banister at the end.And then my knee banging into the coffee table.
Where I put Marina’s glass sculpture after Tomás knocked it over earlier.
It’s a heavy thing, a few pounds at least, this image of a couple embracing.Kind of bat-shaped in its own way.I send up a silent thanks to Marina and her short-lived glass-blowing obsession.I hate to destroy it, but somehow I think she’d approve.
While Eric is focused on lifting the bat over his head, I swing the sculpture toward the back of his skull.I’m not prepared for the sickening scent of blood.Or the jolt, the urge to drop the sculpture when my hands absorb the force of one object hitting another.Eric’s surprised gasp is almost human.
Then he collapses.On top of PJ.
“Fuck.Okay.Hang on.”When I roll Eric’s body sideways, his eyes are open, staring at nothing.They weren’t like that before.When Marina poisoned him, they were closed.If I hadn’t been so shocked at the time, I might have realized that was a reason to check.
I’m struggling to breathe through the smoke, but this time I take a few seconds to look for a pulse.I check the wrist and the throat, and then for good measure I kick at the body a little to be sure he’s not going anywhere.
Banging comes from upstairs.That Scotty guy is trying to break down the door.Which won’t be hard to do.It’s a regular old bedroom door.The lock was only to prevent prying eyes or the stealing of Marina’s ideas.
“PJ.”I lean down, shaking him, begging him to move.He must have taken a good knock to the head.He seems truly disoriented.
“PJ, we have to go.”
He groans again.The smoke thickens around us.We’re running out of time.
Coughing, I give up and drop to my knees, hooking my hands under his arms and dragging him toward the front door.It’s an ugly, awkward shuffle, but it gets us to fresh air.
I’m racked with shivers as the clean oxygen rushes into my lungs.I swear I’ll never take breathing for granted again.
Thank fuck there’s a fire truck barreling up my usually quiet street.
I wait until we’re down the driveway before I stop, letting us both collapse in the soft grass at the edge of my property.
“PJ, Talk to me.”It looks as if he’s still breathing.I hope.Please let him be breathing.
