Page 33 of Anchor (First to Fight)
“Gabe, we’re here,” the radio crackles.
“Thank God.” I give him our location and as I’m in the middle of relaying what’s happened since we last spoke, I hear the ping of a bullet off of the dashboard. I drop the mic and cover Chloe’s body with my own, but not before the next whizzing bullet causes her to cry out in pain.
I don’t even notice when a third cuts a path of fire through my side or when a fourth shatters the glass above the dash, causing it to rain down on us.
“Are you—”
“If you ask me if I’m okay again, I’ll strangle you myself,” she says. “It’s just a scratch.”
I push my own injuries to the back of my head. “If you say so.” Pressing Jones’ gun into her hands, I shelter her with my body and urge her toward a wall for more cover. “I sure hope you know how to use this.”
“Point and shoot, right?” she asks.
Even if I had the time, it’s not worth it to argue. “Basically,” I say. “Aim for his middle. Otherwise you’re bound to miss.”
“Do you think he will hurt the captain?” Chloe asks.
“I think he’ll do whatever he can. He’s desperate. I also think you should stay here while I go try to find where he’s hiding.”
Her fingers dig into my arm. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. He’s got a gun.”
My teeth flash and I gesture to the firearm I found in the refrigerator. “So do I.”
“We should wait until Tyler gets here with the sheriff’s.”
“If we do that, then Jones will kill him.”
“And if you do this, Jones will killyou.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We don’t have another choice.”
She squares her shoulders. “Fine, but I’m going with you.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her eyes flash and her pouty lips pull into a frown. “It’s not up to you,” she says and then skirts around me.
I grab her arm and she struggles against me. “The hell it isn’t. You’re not fucking going anywhere.”
She gets in my face. “I think I’ve proved today that I won’t run away from this guy. I can either go with you now, or follow you once you leave, but either way, you aren’t leaving me behind,” she says, then gives a pointed look at my hand still around her arm. “You can let go of me now.”
When I don’t, she frowns up at me.
“I’m thinking about it,” I say.
She tugs her arm, but gets nowhere. “Better think fast.”
“You’re making me wish I was a cop so I could handcuff your ass where you’d be safe.”
She tugs her arm again and this time, I let her go. As she rubs her wrist, she glares up at me. “My dad was a cop. I’ve got my own damn handcuffs.”
I open my mouth to respond and then my jaw clamps closed. Blindly, I turn around and stride to the stairs as I gulp for air.Jesus Christ.
Surviving a psychopath hell-bent on my destruction is easy, but surviving Chloe is something else altogether.
“Gabe?” she whispers from behind me.
“Don’t talk,” I say through gritted teeth.