Page 104 of What Hurts Us

The man using me as a bargaining chip. As a human shield.

With my height and build, not a single cop had a clean shot.

Don’t look, Layla. Don’t look at him. Don’t look.I closed my eyes, blocking myself from seeing the fear in Callum’s eyes.

“Get away from the fuckin’ stretcher,” he slurred at my crew. The knife edged closer and closer to my neck with each word. “That bitch found my stash and tipped off the PoPo. No one gets to deal with her but me.”

Nobody moved.

“Get her out,” I ordered. “AB, take Hutch.” If this was how it was going to go down, I didn’t want to leave AB shorthanded. Shane didn’t have flight training, but he had the trauma experience under his belt. If it was me on the stretcher, I would want him in the bird.That woman was going to make it, dammit!

Still, nobody moved.

“Get. Out,” I mouthed.

Pressure lifted from my stomach, and I swung an elbow. Searing pain lit up my cheek as I tried to twist away. A shot rang out, slamming into the drywall above his head. Paint and plaster rained down. In the midst of the pandemonium, AB and Shane raced out the door.

He fisted my hair, jerking my head back and exposing my throat. “ANYONE ELSE SHOOTS, AND SHE DIES!”

Needles of pain prickled my scalp, but my arms were free. Clawing at him wouldn’t be effective enough when the tip of the knife was pressed against my carotid artery. One quick jab, and I’d take up residency in the morgue.

“Pretty little martyr,” he sneered. “You think you’re heroic. But if I’m goin’ down, I’m gonna make it fun.”

Adrenaline started overriding my calm. My heart raced, each passing second feeling like a millennium.

Thigh pocket.

The idea wriggled through waves of anxiety and paralyzing fear and took root in my mind.

I struggled, twisting to hide the fact that I was reaching into one of my flight-suit pockets. Blood trickled down my neck.

Whether it was my blood or the blood of the first victim that was still on the knife, I wasn’t sure.

Something thick pressed against my lower back. Vomit and bile burned my throat.That perverted fucker was getting hard.

The smooth metal loops of the Kelly clamps brushed my fingertips. I worked my hand lower, grabbing the middle of the scissor-like metal hemostat. It wasn’t the best option, but it was my only option. I wrapped my fist around it, yanked it out of my pocket, and swung.

The curved, pointed tip sunk into the man’s knife-wielding hand. He roared, rearing back just long enough for me to leap forward.

He grabbed my ponytail, swearing as he ripped me backward and jammed the knife into my stomach.

A shot rang out, and I collapsed to the ground.

35

CALLUM

“Layla!” I screamed as I holstered my gun, the barrel still warm. She was on the ground beside the bastard who had nearly sliced her to ribbons. The hilt of the knife peeked out from beneath her prone form.

More officers swarmed the house. I was going to eviscerate every single one of them. Who the fuck cleared the house and secured the scene before EMS arrived? What clueless motherfucker didn’t look in the motherfucking closet? One of the officers stood guard as Mia, the sweet-as-pie EMT who was still a little green, checked the assailant over.

It was all a blur as she called the time of death.

Injuries incompatible with life.Should be, considering I unloaded my clip into him. We don’t shoot to maim. If lethal force is required, it’s used with the understanding that the criminal will never get back up. In all my years as an officer with the Falls Creek police department, I had never fired my weapon anywhere but the range.

Every bullet hit its mark.

My knees slammed into the red-stained carpet beside Layla’s body. “Look at me. Open your eyes. I’ve got you, honey.” Nothing but shallow breaths. I went numb. Three words slipped out of my mouth. “I love you.”

---