Page 52 of Keeping Ava

My floor is desolate when I reach it. Nothing.

No signs of anyone.

My door is closed, and just as I place my key inside the lock, the blast of a gun breaks the silence. It’s loud, and so is the pure scream of panic that comes from Ava’s body.

Fuck the structure. I kick it in and rush toward the sound of her voice. They’re inside my room. The closer I get, the clearer I can hear his words. How he taunts her.

“Come out, little one,” he croons just as I step within sight. He’s sitting on my bed, twirling his gun while watching the closet door. He doesn’t see me. Too sure of himself. “The faster I correct this defiant behavior, the happier you’ll be. A little pain for a lifetime of my love and devotion.”

“Please stop,” I hear Ava cry out, the fear in her voice palpable. “Leave, and I won’t call the cops.”

“Not until I break you, love. Until you bleed for me.” Jason looks a mess, dirty and desperate. His hand shakes as he points the gun toward the door, finger on the trigger. “We can do this the easy or hard way...your choice. Open the door, Ava, and I’ll begin to forgive you.”

Jason still hasn’t noticed me. Something about the way he’s acting makes me think that he’s under the influence of a narcotic: eyes glassy and body slightly shaking.

And it’s while his hand shakes and another bullet dislodges from the gun, that I fully enter the room. Ava screams from the other side, and the phone inside my pocket vibrates within seconds of my entry.

Behind me I can hear the rest of our team pausing, waiting on my call, but my focus is on him.

My target. The next body to fall.

As that finger twitches again, ready to fire, I pull my own. Watching in almost slow motion as a bullet leaves my gun and flies through the air at a speed he can’t detect. It hits his side, right between his ribs, and he falls back onto my mattress.

His shirt, old and dirty, is colored red, the splotch growing as the seconds tick by.

His eyes shift to mine, surprised but not shocked to see me. Instead, a cruel smirk forms at his lips. “About time you showed up, Detective. Nice to see you again.”

“Rot in hell.” I’m not playing his game. Instead, I pull the trigger again. And again. The second and third bullet hit his midsection, his body convulsing on the bed, and yet, Jason still fires his own weapon. It hits the drywall encasing the steel structure, and I reciprocate with the same amount of anger.

I empty my clip as my girl yells from inside.

Bullet after bullet enters his body and the fucker still rises from the bed. He comes toward me, bloody and knocking on death’s door, but unwilling to give up.

Jason stumbles toward me, pointing his gun, but when he tries to fire back...nothing. He’s out of bullets and losing blood fast. One step forward becomes a crashing fall to the floor and still, I have no pity for a dying man.

Fuck him.

This pain is nothing compared to what the asshole deserves.

Pulling the second of my guns from the holster, I stand over his semi-lifeless body. Our eyes meet. His next breath is almost choking, and still I fire once more. Right between the eyes.

The small hole in his forehead is proof of his passing. One stuttered breath, and he’s gone.

No longer a danger to my girl.

Without pausing, I drop my weapon and rush toward the closet and bang on the door. “Baby, it’s me. Open, please.”

“Eli?”

“I’m here, love.” It takes a minute or two for her to open, but when she does, the relief in her eyes almost bowls me over. Ava flies into my arms, wrapping her small body around mine and clinging—holding me tight with her eyes closed as I turn her away from his lifeless form.

She’s shaking. Afraid. Sobbing.

“He...I...”

“Shhhh,” I whisper against her forehead, my arms wrapping tight and giving her the comfort, she needs. “He’s dead. No more fear.”

“Are you sure?” A tremor rocks her small body.

---