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“You little bitch,” he grunted, and Taylor started to shake. “I will find you,” he growled out.
Taylor closed her eyes as she listened to him get closer. She opened them and noticed that her eyes had adjusted to the dark just enough for her to make out shapes in the room. She pushed herself as far back under the desk as she could, as silently as she could. She lifted her head and it hit something hard and lumpy on the underside of the desk.
Taylor slid her hand up and felt the object, seeing if whatever it was could help her in any way. Taylor realized it was a gun. She flashed back to her conversation with Todd, where he said he used to have a gun hidden in his office. Sweet relief and hope flooded her. Taylor pushed on the gun until she figured out how to slide it free, all the time listening to Charlie come at her, slumping around the desk. Taylor’s eyes continued to adjust and soon Charlie’s legs stopped in front of her hiding spot under the desk.
Taylor held the gun between her hands. She didn’t know if she could use it. Maybe she could just push him down and run out, run fast and far and get help. She didn’t even know if the gun was loaded. As she wrestled with her decision Charlie spoke again. “Maybe if I kill your husband first, I can find you,” he said softly.
No. Fucking. Way.
Taylor didn’t even pause—she shot the gun and a bullet flew into Charlie’s knee. Firing it was loud, and the gun recoiled, striking Taylor above the eye. Immediately her head hurt and her ears were ringing. It was an echoey noise, like after a bell has been rung, and everything was muffled all around her. She distantly heard Charlie calling out, but it was hard to tell how close he was, the sound so muted by the ringing in her ears, and the room too dark to make him out.
Taylor scrambled out from under the desk. Staying under there just made her a sitting duck. She was almost at the door when she was yanked back by her hair.
She shrieked as she was pulled flush against a heavy breathing form. The ringing had lessened but the sounds around her were still muffled. She could hear Charlie saying something but it was totally unclear what it was. He was swaying, unsteady in standing, but his adrenaline must have been enough to keep him upright.
He snaked his arm around Taylor’s neck and put her in a choke hold. Taylor clawed at his arm but the more she dug, the harder he squeezed.
Is this it, she wondered,is this how it all ends? Not just her own life but her family’s legacy and her happily ever after.
Hell no.
She brought her elbow up and connected with Charlie’s nose, the crack of it breaking so loud she heard it in her muffled ears. The crazed man screamed and loosened his grip just enough for Taylor to jerk back and kick him in the stomach with her three-thousand-dollar stiletto.
Suddenly the door burst open and Kevlar-vested police officers entered the room with their guns drawn, Ben trailing them.
“Taylor,” Ben said, going to her, “are you—”
But Taylor couldn’t listen to him. Instead she went to her husband lying on the ground. “Derrick,” she said as she got down over him, jostling him a little. “Derrick, please wake up,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. This was all too familiar, all too reminiscent of the night of the Gala. “Please wake up, babe,” she begged and laid her head on his chest.
Derrick groaned and Taylor lifted her head swiftly to look at him. “Babe?” she asked.
“I’m hungry,” Derrick grunted.
Taylor’s mouth hung open for a beat and then she started to laugh and peppered her husband’s face with kisses. She looked up to see EMTs come in and put Charlie on a stretcher, and once on it the police cuffed him to it.
“How did they know?” Taylor asked in relief, looking up at Ben.
“I was here in the building and I saw his thugs carrying Henry, and then I couldn’t get a hold of you guys,” he explained, “so I called the police.”
“He is crazy,” Taylor said, “the things he said—”
“Have all been recorded,” Henry croaked out from the corner.
“What?” Taylor asked, baffled.
“I put voice recorders and cameras in every office when I took over,” he said, sitting up and gently holding his aunt.
“Henry, you are fabulous,” Taylor said.
“It is my job, Taylor,” he said.
“Tay,” Derrick moaned.
“Yes, babe?”
“I really want a pizza,” he said.
And Taylor just rolled her eyes, and let the smile spread across her face.