Page 23 of Her Guardian
One as big as I am.
CHAPTER 9
Sarah
It feels like my heart got ripped out of my chest and now I’m just holding it in my hands.
That could have been me.
And nobody would have torn apart half of Russia to find me. Not even Lea. I doubt I would have even been important enough to mention on a podcast. Not one that people listen to.
“Boyd,” I whisper, my heart thundering in my hands, because everything inside me feels numb. “I… I should have reported it.”
“We’re a long way past that,” he grunts.
“If something happened to someone else because I just went home…” I feel tears welling up.
“Not your fault. You didn’t put anything in their drink. He did it,” he says, throwing away his cigarette and yanking the steering wheel toward an apartment complex. “We’re here. Stay in the car.”
“Wait,” I say, reaching for him, but he is gone as soon as my fingers feel his arm. “Boyd!”
I jump out of the SUV, rather than staying in it. I realize it’s a big mistake as soon as I see his glare, but I can’t stop myself from rushing toward him.
“Don’t do this. I’ll go talk to the cops right now. I’ll tell them what happened, and…” I get cut off by a shake of his head.
“No, this is how I handle things,” he says. “I don’t think you want to see this. That’s why I told you to stay in the car, but if you want to follow me, I’m not going to stop you.”
Boyd moves up the steps so fast I barely have a moment to blink before he’s cleared the first flight. I hurry behind him. He moves way faster than someone his size should be able to. Like a ninja that… bends metal stairs when he stomps them. Holy shit.
I can’t stop him. I’m not sure a bullet could stop him. I need to do more cardio, because I’m breathing hard when we get to the top. Boyd hasn’t broken a sweat. Those unfiltered cigarettes aren’t doing much to his stamina, but I’m certainly regrettingmylife choices.
Boyd gets to the end of the railing and… of course, he puts his really big boot through the door. It explodes into pieces and Boyd stomps them into splinters as he enters. This is like following Batman into battle. If I talk about this on my podcast, nobody is going to believe a word of it unless I tone it down some.
Especially if it ends with a dead guy missing part of his face. That part will get the PG-13 treatment.
“Bill Clark!” Boyd roars. “Get the fuck up, boy.”
I turn the corner into the apartment and Boyd is already on top of the kid. He really does look like a kid. Probably a college student. I would have turned him down politely, even if I was a little tipsy.
“Ah! Help! Somebody!” Bill screams.
“Nobody’s coming, Billy-boy,” Boyd snarls. “But I’m here. Right now. And so is she. Take a good look at my friend. Remember her?”
Boyd turns the guy’s head toward me, and necks don’t bend that way, but his head stays attached. Bill looks absolutely terrified. I would be too.
“No!” Bill screams louder.
“You drop shit in so many drinks you don’t remember them anymore?” Boyd yells and it feels like the floor shakes, but that’s probably just my knees.
“Oh, god! Oh, god! I’m sorry!” Bill sobs. “I remember her! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t even stop her when she went outside to wait for someone to pick her up!”
“You didn’t put anything in her drink?” Boyd leans closer and turns his head in the most terrifying way possible. I hear his neck pop a few times. “You’re denying it?”
“No! No! I did put something in her drink!” Bill cries. “But I chickened out!”
“And since then?” Boyd growls.
“I haven’t! Never! It was the first time, and I couldn’t go through with it!” Bill is racked with sobs. I almost feel sorry for him—almost.
