Page 17 of Return to Me Always

"No!"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You're coming withmenow."

"You know we didn't kill that guy," I begged, desperation clawing at me.

"I know," he said, taking one step toward me.

"What? What do you mean you know?" I asked.

"I set you up." Another step closer.

I could barely breathe through my panic. "But why?"

Just then, I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine, making my whole body tremble.

Oh, no, no, no.

I couldn't let Tyler walk into this chaos. God only knew what Malcolm would do with a gun. Glancing around, I looked for anything that might help. But what could I do?

It was too late, though. Malcolm ran to the side of the open door, keeping his gun pointed at me.

"Don't say a word," he said in a quiet, menacing voice.

My body froze, my brain a jumbled mess.I was useless.

In slow motion, I watched as Tyler parked the bike in front of the house and started walking across the yard. He suddenly stopped when he noticed the door hanging open. And that's when Malcolm took aim.

My heart stopped as I heard the gun fire.

I had to do something! I couldn't let him kill Tyler!

Without thinking, I ran toward Malcolm and jumped on him from behind. The gun went off several more times. Malcolm reached around and tried to grab for me. But I clung to his back, trying to scratch at his eyes, his face, anything I could reach.

"Get off me!" he shouted.

He slammed me against the wall, stabbing pain shooting up my spine. But I still clawed onto him.

I noticed a heavy wall sconce, and with my right hand, I grabbed it with all my strength, pulling nails and plaster off with it. Clutching onto his whirling body, I smashed it into his head. He didn't budge, and I fought back the nausea.

Desperate now, I smashed it harder against his skull. And this time, he crashed down on the ground, taking me with him. After a stunned second, I scrambled off his still body and rushed outside.

Tyler was just getting up from the ground, holding onto his left arm. "Are you okay?" he asked, his chest rising and falling.

I nodded, unable to speak.

In the distance, I heard sirens as Tyler's eyes locked onto mine. "We've got to run."

We jumped onto the motorcycle, but the engine wouldn't start. The siren grew louder. Tyler tried again. Swear words flew from his mouth. And I noticed a gasoline smell.

"That arsehole shot up the fuel tank." Tyler threw his helmet to the ground. "Come on."

He grabbed my hand, and we took off running.

Shit! Not again.

We raced through backyards and scrambled over fences, ran down sidewalks, and jumped canals. I kept thinking we'd run into someone. But it was still early in the morning on a Sunday and eerily quiet. After only a few minutes, the sirens faded, and Tyler slowed down. Thank God.

"I think we're safe now," he said.

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