Page 67 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter sixty-three

Tess

“ U h, boss. You might want to come look at this.”

I’m jerked out of a light doze by Colin’s strangled voice. He’s the man at the front window and he’s staring through, his finger twitching closer to the gun’s trigger.

Carters on his back on the floor, hands behind his head.

From the slant of the sun, it’s late morning and we’re still hours from our meeting with Gabe.

Despite my bravado telling Carter to just shoot me, I’ve tried not to get my hopes up that Gabe will save me.

I can’t help but think he hates me for what happened to Pax.

Yet a part of me still hopes and it’s the hope that hurts the worst.

It would be so much easier if there was no hope. If I knew this was the end and just accepted my fate, but my treacherous heart refuses to release that four letter word. I guess hope really does spring eternal.

Carter lifts his head. “What is it?” He’s been more grumpy than usual after talking to Gabe. Probably because Gabe told him to pound salt when he asked for a million dollars.

I would’ve told him to pound salt too.

“I think...” Colin leans closer to the window and squints. “Oh, shit.” His face loses all color and he backs slowly away from the window.

I try to push up from the chair just a little to see what he sees but I’m still sitting too low.

“Just fucking tell me,” Carter grumbles. He stands and strides to the window, stopping cold when he sees what Colin saw.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Then, “FUCK!”

He whips around and marches toward me, his eyes wild with fear. The cold metal of the gun presses against my temple and I stiffen.

His hands are shaking. Shaking hands holding a gun against my head can’t be good. I squeeze my eyes shut because no matter how hardass I thought I was when I begged him to kill me, I truly don’t want to die.

The front door slams open, causing me to jump and my eyes to fly open.

Loud, slow, steps echo through the cavernous house.

My heart catches the rhythm and beats in tune to the impending doom heading my way.

I can’t move my head because of the gun pressed to it, but I move my eyes to try to get a glimpse of what hell just walked in that door.

Colin’s frozen by the window. I swear I hear him whimper. The other man whose name I never learned, slides to his right, nervous eyes darting to the back door.

The footsteps slow and suddenly I don’t want to see what new demon is about to enter the picture. I lower my eyes to stare at the floor.

I should have told him I loved him.

Another step and shiny, black dress shoes stop just inches from my dirty sneakers that still have red dust on them from my hike with Gabe.

“Carter.” The voice belonging to the dress shoes is so deep and so cold I think maybe hell itself opened up and spit this man out. “Put the gun down.”

Behind me Carter’s breathing is erratic and shallow. The gun trembles against my temple causing me to wince.

My gaze roams up long legs encased in dark gray dress pants, slim hips, a wide chest and even wider shoulders until I lock gazes with cold, emotionless gray eyes. This man is possibly the biggest man I’ve ever seen. Rainbow colored tattoos crawl up his neck and down his fingers.

Those impassive eyes move behind me to land on Carter. “Give me the gun,” he says.

If it were me, I would have done anything this scary man said but Carter doesn’t move.

“She owes us money.” Carter’s voice wavers, unsure and slightly terrified.

“She doesn’t owe us shit and I told you weeks ago we weren’t collecting. You went against direct orders, Carter. You know what that means.”

Who is this man? And why is he here?

“I did this for the family,” Carter says, his tone now wheedling. “It’s my job to collect—”

“Enough!”

I jump. Carter jumps. I flinch because what if his trigger finger is jumpy too?

The man plucks the gun from Carter’s hand like it's a toy and chucks it across the room. It skitters across the unfinished floors until it circles to a slow revolving stop, like a macabre version of spin the bottle.

The scary man’s gaze flickers to me. He lowers himself to his haunches, his tattooed hands loose between his knees. “Tess James?”

I nod slowly; my mouth so dry I couldn’t speak if I wanted to.

A knife appears in his hand. Startled, I rear back with a squeak of terror. “Relax, little one. I’m going to cut you loose then I want you to head out that door.” He tips his head toward the direction of the door. “Keep walking. Don’t look back no matter what you hear. Nod if you understand me.”

I nod.

He pins me with a dark glare and his voice turns even darker. “Don’t look back.”

I nod again.

He slices through my restraints then holds his hands out. I take them and he gently pulls me up, continues to hold me steady until the blood returns to my legs.

He lifts his chin. “Go.”

The first step is the hardest. I still don’t trust any of these men at my back and the spot between my shoulder blades tingles in fear of a bullet or a knife. I don’t know which would be worse.

I keep walking. I don’t look back.

Even when I reach the door I don’t look back.

I move forward one step at a time, my legs shaking, my vision blurring.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look.

I keep my eyes on my feet as I exit the house.

“Tess!”

My head jerks up. From the other side of the street someone’s running toward me. I stop, scared that I’ve stepped into a worse situation. But I can’t go back so I keep going forward because forward is the only way to go.

Then I see him. His arms pumping, his legs pistoning.

“Tess!”

With a cry I start running and when I’m within a few feet I launch myself at him, knowing he’ll catch me.

We collide in the best of ways. My arms around his neck. My legs around his waist. His hands clutch me to him as I bury my face in that warm spot between his shoulder and neck. He falls to his knees, taking me with him.

“I’ve got you.” His voice is rough. “I’ve got you.”

“I love you,” I say at the same time because I’m not holding anything back anymore. “I love you so much.”

“Oh, Spitfire. I love you too. With every breath I take.”

Something pops behind me, a muted sound that has Gabe pressing my head to his chest and curling his body over mine. There’re two more muted pops, then nothing but the birds chirping in the trees and the gentle brush of the breeze against our skin.

Neither of us moves until I hear soft footsteps in the dried grass behind me. Gabe stands and I slide down his body, my arm around his waist, my finger hooked in his belt loop because I can't let him go. He turns me so I’m tucked tightly into his side.

The tattooed man stops in front of us, nods to Gabe, his emotionless gaze flickering to me, to Gabe’s hand curled around my hip. He drops my backpack at my feet, then continues on to the street where he climbs into a big black car and drives away.

“Who’s that?” I whisper even though his car is turning the corner and I know he can't hear me.

“That’s retribution,” Gabe says.