Page 113 of Triple Power Play 3
“Aurora,” he growls. “Don’t move.”
But I need to escape. I need to get to them.
Holding the doorjamb and wall, I lift my foot over the lifeless being, careful not to slip on the blood. I tremble, fearing he’ll wake and grab me. I know it’s not possible—his limbs are bent in unnatural ways.
Reece’s door is wide open. In the entryway, another body lies motionless on the floor. Crouched beside it is a man with a gun slung over his back. He peers up at me, face fully concealed by a mask.
Both men, dead and alive, are in the same black tactical gear. There’s no telling who is who, and, startled, I take off toward my bedroom.
My darting gaze catches the light glinting off shards of broken glass far too late. Sharp pain slices through the soles of my feet, and I fall to my knees.
“Shit.” Charlie hurries over, his boots crunching on the hardwood. “Why does no one listen to me?”
Without hesitation, he reaches for me, and I bat him away.
“Don’t touch me.” I rise on shaky legs and stumble backward. My eyes cloud with tears, and I blink several times to clear my vision.
He puts his hands out to steady me if needed, careful not to make contact. “You’re in shock and bleeding. You need to sit, preferably off the property.”
Blood trickles from my knees. Nausea turns my stomach, and I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Where are the twins?”
“Desmond is getting fingerprinted. Dante is identifying perps he…encountered.”
He juts his chin to the patio, where multiple individuals are face down on the concrete, three with their wrists and ankles zip-tied, the others unmoving.
Dante stands over them, pointing and talking with an officer.
Beyond the shimmering blue pool lights lies darkness, and in the shadows, Dante’s broad shoulders and muscular build bear a resemblance to Ethan’s.Comfort and yearning wash over me, and I call out for him.
He glances up, but so does an intruder, holding me in his gaze.
As he walks by, Dante stomps on the man’s head, and I almost feel bad—almost.
“Don’t look at her, motherfucker,” he snarls. He approaches, brows pinched with concern. “What happened?” he asks Charlie, accusation thick in his tone.
“Don’t blame me. She stepped on glass. Jesus, y’all are a tight-knit group. You refuse to trust anyone. It’s a problem.”
“Accurate. Now, get my brother, or you’ll find out how much of a problem I can truly be.”
Charlie walks away, shaking his head.
“Fuck, I hate cops,” Dante mumbles. “We need to clean you up before Ethan strangles me.”
Blood runs down my legs, but all I feel is embarrassment and the urgency to leave. “I’m sorry. I just wanna go.” My voice breaks, and I curl my toes to relieve the agony and hide my discomfort from him.“I need shoes.”
He extends his arms. “Either way, I have to carry you over this glass. I’ll take you to your room for shoes and get you cleaned up quick.”
In the driver’s seat, on the way to the hospital, Charlie mutters about not following procedure and contaminating the crime scene. I rest my forehead against the window and stareoff into the night. Despite the anxiety pulsating in my veins, the world around me grows hazy, and my eyelids flutter shut.
52
JACKSON
I wait impatiently outside the emergency department doors. The only reason I’m not pacing is because Ethan’s arms are around me from behind, his head resting on my shoulder. I don’t blame him for being exhausted, and I’m sure he’s hurting, which is my fault.
I’ve never been this bone-tired in my life. Even my fingers are sore from swinging that bat with everything I had. I put my heart and soul into killing Hugo, and it was worth every ache and pain. I’ll dream about his mutilated face and skull. It’s far better than the nightmares he’s given me.
Despite the fatigue, my body feels lighter, and although I have a world of shit to make up for, I’m not depressed. My mind isn’t racing. I worry about the legal ramifications of everything that occurred tonight, but I have faith in Reece.
