Page 72 of The Vegas Rerun
“Are you okay?” he breathes, cupping my face with one hand, searching me for injuries with the other one. “Molly. Molly, talk to me.”
“I … I’m okay,” I manage to say, though my voice trembles. “Sarah … She … She had a gun. She was going to shoot me.”
“I know. I saw. God Molly, if I’d been a second later …” He trails off and pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair.
Behind us, Sarah, who I had kind of forgotten was still here, groans, trying to crawl for the gun, but Joshua’s security - who must have heard the gun shot and come out to investigate it - swarm in and restrain her.
“She said it was my fault,” I whisper. “She said I ruined everything in her life.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he growls. “She did. And she won’t ever come near you again.”
Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder.
“That’ll be the police,” one of the security guards says as he walks over to us. “And the ambulance. I called them both.”
“Thanks Hank,” Joshua says, and I nod my thanks to him too.
I hope the police see this is as it is and don’t believe whatever bullshit Sarah spins, because if she gets Joshua in trouble for this, I swear I will be the one killing her for ruining everything instead of the other way around.
CHAPTER 47
JOSHUA
The momentI hear the sirens start to wail in the distance and find out that the emergency services are on their way, I feel my pulse settle for the first time since I saw Sarah holding that gun on Molly.
Molly is pressed against my chest, her body trembling in my arms. I’ve never held anything so fragile and so precious, and I have never felt so close to losing everything in one instant. I tighten my grip on her, burying my face in her hair, trying to convince myself that she’s really here, still breathing, fine except for being a bit shaken up.
If I’d been a second later…
I can’t think like that. I won’t think like that.
The sirens are closer now and several police cars and an ambulance pull into the parking lot. Chaos floods in - flashing red and blue lights paint the wall of the building as police officers jump out of the vehicles, the doors left open and the engines still running. Their voices bark instructions, shouting over the heavy sound of their clomping boots on the concrete. Two uniformed officers rush towards Sarah and the securityguards with their weapons drawn, scanning the scene before one of them radios in that the suspect is secured and they lower their guns.
Molly lifts her head slightly, her eyes wide and unfocused.
“They’re here,” she whispers, like she can’t quite believe it.
I brush my lips against her forehead.
“Yes, they’re here. You’re safe now. It’s over.”
She nods, but the expression on her face says otherwise. It’s not over. Not for her. Not for me.
A paramedic steps in and gently pulls Molly from my arms. He leads her to the back of the ambulance and sits her on the edge of it while he checks her over with calm efficiency. He asks her questions about what happened, and she tells him in a steady voice. I stay right by her side, never more than a foot away from her.
When he finishes examining her, he declares her physically fine, but he recommends she go to the hospital in case she’s in shock. Naturally, she refuses and nothing I or the paramedic can say will convince her. In the end, he gives up and gives us a list of things to watch out for and makes her promise she will go to the hospital if she experiences any of them. She promises she will, but I know she won’t go without me dragging her there. That’s ok because I will do that if I need to.
Another paramedic joins the first one and they go over to and help Sarah onto a stretcher. She’s conscious, groaning, clutching her side. I don’t even look at her. I can’t feel any sympathy for her. She pointed a gun at Molly. My Molly.
That alone is enough to erase any trace of guilt or hesitation about what I did. I’d hit her with the car a thousand times if it meant keeping Molly alive.
Once the ambulance has taken Sarah away, a police officer with her, the focus turns to Molly and me. The police want to separate us and talk to us about what happened. It’s juststandard procedure, they say, that statements need to be taken individually. I don’t argue. I just look at Molly.
“I’ll be in my office. You take the copier room, and if anyone needs to use it, tell them it’ll have to wait,” I say softly to Molly and then I turn my attention to the police officers. “Come to my office when you’re ready to speak to me. It’s the seventh floor, the last door in the corridor.”
Molly nods again, silent, her hand brushing mine briefly as I watch the officers lead her back to the building. I give them time to get up to the copier room and then I go back into the building and up to my office. I pause to tell the receptionist that the police will be along soon and to let them in.
I go to my office and shut the door behind me. I rub a hand over my jaw, pacing the floor as I wait for the officers to finish with Molly and come to talk to me. I glance at the leather sofa against the wall, remembering the first time I kissed Molly there. I remember how she smiled, how she teased me and made me laugh.
