Page 77 of Merciless Protector

The closer I got to the building, I saw him enter. “Wait,” I cried out. Thunder covered my words, and the door closed behind him.

The fence surrounding the place was shut as well. I veered to the right, searching for a hole in the fence, when I was caught. I attempted to yell, but a hand clamped over my mouth. Flailing as I was, my attacker dragged me into the shadows of the building as I watched in horror while the FBI moved in.

“Lass, he has to do this,” came the whisper in my ear.

Bolt cutters were used on the front gate as the FBI silently approached and surrounded the building. Everything next happened fast. Someone shouted FBI as a battering ram was used on the door. Shots rang out.

I’d recognized Griffin’s voice and had relaxed in his hold, knowing it was too late. Time ticked on without meaning until agents emerged from the building with several men in handcuffs. Shawn was one of them, along with Ruin. Five were put in one paddy wagon and Shawn and Ruin in another.

“You can let me go,” I said in horror.

One of the possibilities of Shawn working in the Chicago PD was that he was an undercover agent. But according to everything I knew, he would have been separated in such a way that it didn’t look suspicious. He wouldn’t be placed in the same police transport with the other criminals. Which could only mean one thing.

I took off for the FBI van I should have been in with tears in my eyes. Griffin didn’t stop me. With agents all over the scene, Griffin didn’t call after me or try to stop me.

When I got in the van, the team looked at me. “Sorry. I had to pee really badly. Pregnancy thing,” I said and sat. Someone handed me a towel, and I dried off, leaving my face for last as I tried to stop crying.

Because the bust was successful, I only got a slight reprimand for disappearing. My boss likely didn’t want me to file a complaint about not having adequate facilities for someone in my condition. I got away with breaking the rules. Shawn didn’t.

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich because I was starving when breaking news on my TV in the living room caught my attention. I had the remote near me, so I pressed a button to turn the sound up.

As I mentioned at the top of the hour, we have breaking news. We have received word that Senator Covington’s son, Randolph Covington, was killed in an apparent shoot-out. He had been arrested in an FBI raid to stop a human trafficking ring at an industrial building on the south side of Chicago early this evening. We should note that Senator Covington claims that his son owned the building and didn’t know what was going on there. Another interesting note is that Shawn Stanton, a Chicago police officer on leave pending an investigation into his dealings with Nicolas Cortez, the famed crime boss, was also killed. We have footage of the incident and warn that it would not be suitable for young viewers.

I rushed to the back of my sofa while holding my breath and gripped the edge for dear life as a grainy video showed masked gunmen approaching the back doors of the FBI transport van. Popping sounds of gunfire rang out before the gunmen wrenched open the doors. We were given a good view inside. Ruin and Shawn’s faces were visible before more shots rang out and both men were flung back by the impact.

The news anchor started to say something about how they obtained the video, but I dropped to my knees as an unearthly cry left my throat.

He’s dead. He can’t be dead. He’s dead chants reverberated in my head. I flung my head back and cried out, uncaring about the noise I was making because my heart had just shattered into a billion little pieces.

I lifted up and scrambled to my feet to find my phone. With shaky hands, I dialed a number.

“Tayla,” Kelsey said with alarm as if she knew why I was calling.

“Is he dead?” I asked with a prayer in my broken heart.

“I’m sorry—”

Whatever else she might have said was lost on me as the phone fell from my hand. I rushed to my bathroom, fell to my knees, and retched into the toilet. The chips I’d been nibbling on came up in a rush, along with the juice I’d had. Then, it was nothing but dry heaves.

I couldn’t say how long I had sat there. Eventually, I made it to my bed and stared at the ceiling until darkness claimed me. I called in sick the next day but managed to make another call that had to be made.

Connor answered the phone. “Is Lizzy there?” I asked because I’d dialed her number.

I could hear the pity in his voice as he said, “She’s not available right now.”

Of course she wasn’t. Her twin had died. “Please tell her I’m sorry,” I said because I had no other words, but I had to make that call.

“I’ll pass it along,” he said.

On the verge of another sob, I hung up. Somehow, I’d hoped that she would tell me it was a lie. But even Connor hadn’t done that.

How could the other half of my heart be gone? Because it was. It would be days before I could leave my apartment.

33

TAYLA

When my family got back to town, I asked Mom if she could come over alone.

---