Page 43 of Making Home with You (The Rockport Beach #3)

Sarah

My day has literally been the best I’ve had since I started working here, and I think to myself that maybe I can keep working here, that maybe the commute isn’t so bad after all.

Without Andrew it’s not so bad. He left early yesterday, and he’s not here today, which hopefully means they’ve taken my harassment claim seriously and are looking into it.

Whatever the reason for his absence, it’s made my day phenomenal, even my clients seem happier to talk to me without Andrew listening over my shoulder.

I’ve been working like crazy, catching up on things I’ve been meaning to do, but always had Andrew barking orders at me. And I’ve even had time to work on a few marketing gigs I picked up since helping out Kelsey.

I catch a glance at the clock out of the corner of my eye and notice how late it’s gotten. Joe would kill me right now if he knew I was still sitting here in my office well after hours.

I toss everything into my bag in rush to get my ass out of here before the place empties out for good.

Luckily when I hit the elevator, there’s a group of people waiting for it too and I let out a slow breath, exhausted by the day, but also relieved I’m not the only one left.

While I don’t know these people personally, I do know that a few of them are commuters and I’ll be able slip out onto the street and down to the train station without being entirely alone.

But when the elevator reaches the lobby, I realize I forgot my phone…again. You’d think I’d know by now to check for it before I even leave my office, but clearly I’m not that organized.

Once everyone exits the elevator, I ride it back up. It’s déjà vu of yesterday, and I roll my eyes at the fact that I can’t seem to get my shit together.

I grab my phone from the exact place where I always leave it and when I pick it up I notice Finn has texted me and called a few times. I really need to make sure the sound is on, because I’m sure he’s panicking right now. And given the situation with Carla, I don’t blame him.

I press the button for the elevator and text Finn back as I wait. It’s taking exceptionally long, and I hit the button rapidly in succession like that will make the elevator come faster.

I glance around, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of anxiety. The floor is quiet and the lights are now off in every office and just when I decide I’m going to take the stairs, the elevator doors open.

My paranoia is getting a little out of hand lately. Between Carla and Andrew, I can’t seem to shake this feeling that someone is watching me. It’s ridiculous, I know that, because honestly, I’m far from interesting, but I still have this nervousness that simmers in the back of my mind.

I fall back against the elevator wall as the door closes, and I pull my phone from my pocket. I notice that I never sent the text I typed out to Finn, but when I hit send, the steel walls of the elevator make it impossible to follow through with that.

Annoyed, I stuff my phone back in my pocket, reminding myself to send it when I hit the lobby. But I change my plans and press the level for parking instead of the lobby. The garage is covered and I noticed it had started raining when I grabbed my phone off my desk.

I can walk through the garage quite a ways before I have to exit to the street, otherwise I’ll look like a drowned rat since I can’t seem to find the umbrella I usually have stashed in my bag. Again, my disorganization coming back to bite me in the ass.

I step off the elevator and into the parking garage. With each step I take, the motion sensors activate the lights, and my anxiety resurfaces full force.

I’m in the wrong fucking place, because up ahead in this empty parking garage, I see a light illuminated. One single row, one single car in an otherwise empty space and I know I need to turn around.

I recognize the car immediately and wonder why it’s here and why I’m still standing there staring at it.

I turn on my heel and hightail it out of the garage, my heart beating faster than I ever thought possible. The loud beat of it pulsing in my ears, making me deaf to everything else around me.

And that’s when I hear it; my name called, a whisper in the stillness of the garage. It floats through and echoes, making the sound of my heartbeat suddenly silent.

I turn around to run out of the garage and my body slams into a solid figure, and the scream that leaves my mouth is blood curdling. There’s not a chance that anyone within an earshot hasn’t heard me.

“Sarah, Sarah,” the voice says, shaking me a little by the shoulders.

I look up and find myself face to face with Steve, the nighttime security attendant. The relief that washes over me is immense. I feel myself slump against him, and I can feel his heartbeat, rapid and intense.

“What are you doing in here?” he demands, but there’s a shakiness to his tone. “It’s not safe in here after dark. Don’t you know…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t need to. I already know what he was going to say.

“Steve, what do you know?” I ask, pushing him to answer me. I need him to say it out loud, and right now I should be calling Joe, telling him to get his ass over here, but I need Steve to answer me. “Is this about Eliza Anderson?” I press, but Steve doesn’t answer.

He clears his throat and shakes his head as if he’s telling me not to ask any more questions. But I don’t give up that easily. I’m in so deep now that there’s no digging my way out.

“Did he pay you off too?” My voice is high and quivery as I begin to piece things together. I knew all along that she wasn’t the only person involved in this mess, but I had no idea Andrew could ruin the life of a man too.

Andrew preys on the weak, the people he knows he can pay off and Steve is exactly that. This job doesn’t pay enough; he has a family to support and the prospect of someone throwing money at him had to have been hard to turn down.

But at what expense?

He’s being eaten alive by guilt, by the lies, and by what he still knows is happening.

“You need to leave now,” Steve says, but I watch his face change. A confused look on his face, as his brows pinch together and he shakes his head slightly. When he opens his mouth to speak his words come out quiet, and he mutters, “What the hell…”

I watch him reach for the TASER on his hip, but he’s slow and the gun blast shatters the silence of the parking garage. It reverberates and echoes back, the sound multiplied in its vast emptiness.

I hear myself scream, and I watch Steve clutch his shoulder and fall to his knees.

I don’t want to turn around because I know who’s standing there; I know who fired the gun and I know what’s about to happen.

Knowing he has a gun doesn’t stop me from doing what I do next. In the quick look I caught of Steve’s injury, I know he won’t die from it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave him here or let Andrew, that sleazy motherfucker, get away with it.

He’s here for me and that’s exactly what he’s going to get.

Me, and everything Ryan has taught me about defending myself.

I know not to let him take me anywhere, so my first instinct is to get the hell out of this damn parking garage. He has a car, he’s bigger than me and there’s a chance he’s got a plan.

But I’m not going down without a fight and Andrew is on me before I can move. He wraps his hand around my hair and yanks me back toward him. As much as I would’ve liked to get away from him, I knew this was what was to come and I’m prepared.

I let him drag him me closer to him. The closer I get the more likely it is that I can injure him, and despite my racing heart and my shaking hands, I try to clear my clouded head and figure out how I’m going to get away from him.

But he’s predictable as fuck and he lets go of my hair and wraps his arm around my neck, and it’s almost too easy.

“Are you trying to ruin my life?” Andrew hisses in my ear. His breath is hot against my skin and it makes me shudder. It smells of stale coffee and bourbon, and it makes me want to gag. “You seemed like such an easy conquest in your interview. Fuck was I wrong.”

He turns me around so I’m now facing him, and I make direct eye contact. I won’t let him see my fear, and he thinks if he grips my arm tight enough I won’t be able to get away. His fingers dig into my skin, pressing hard, nearly cutting through my sweater.

I can hear Steve squirming around on the ground and I know he’s losing a lot of blood, so I need to act quickly.

Andrew pushes the gun into the waist of his pants, but his hand still holds me tightly, and that’s when I stomp hard onto his foot.

He lets out a loud groan, leaning down as if he’s going to clutch his foot, as if to check to see if it’s okay. It’s so by the book it’s almost comical. I wrap my hands around the back of his head forcing it down while I thrust my knee up into his nose.

I hear the crack of bone and see the rush of blood that covers my pants, but I don’t stop there. I shove him hard and he loses his balance, toppling over onto the concrete, hitting it hard.

I rush to Steve just as he’s getting to his feet, but he’s disoriented and slow, and I push him through the doorway and into the vestibule that houses the elevators.

Steve reaches for the button and then clasps his hand over his wounded shoulder. We have only a few more seconds before Andrew will be back on his feet and after me, so I can’t waste time waiting on the elevator.

I grab the TASER from Steve’s hip, and when the elevator doors open, I shove him in and turn for the stairs.

Andrew doesn’t want Steve, he wants me, and when he finally appears in the vestibule, the elevator doors closing, he fires a few shots at the metal door before he turns to chase me into the stairwell.

The parking garage is on the fourth floor and the last place I want to go is up, so I head down, hoping Steve is with it enough to have called the police or at least get outside of the building before Andrew and I reach the lobby.

The gun goes off again, Andrew firing aimlessly into the stairwell hoping he’ll hit me, but each shot misses and I keep track of each bullet he’s fired.

We’re at eight, and he’s carrying a Glock 22, which means if it’s fully loaded he has seven bullets left. I just need him to waste those before we reach the lobby, because once we’re together and he’s without a gun, it’s on.

My adrenaline is surging as I call out his name, taunting him to come after me, and I strike the metal handrail with my shoe making a loud banging noise.

And just as I suspected, Andrew is a fool, and he fires again, the bullet pinging off the metal casing around the window.

I can hear the police sirens ringing out above the noise of the busy streets of Boston, but that doesn’t stop me, because until Andrew is in handcuffs, I’m not safe.

I push the door to the third floor open, holding it until I hear Andrew’s feet pound the stairs above me, and then I let it go. Moving quickly but quietly, I make for the stairs to the second floor.

The gun goes off just as the door to the third floor closes, three quick blasts; loud and jarring, and my ears ring incessantly, nearly making me lose my footing on the stairs.

“You missed me!” I yell and he screams out a curse, slamming his hand into the metal security door on the third floor. I need him to know I didn’t go through that door, and if I’m right, he’s an idiot and will fall for the same trick on the second floor.

Again I hold the door open, waiting for his feet to pound against the concrete stairs and when I hear, I let go of the door, but this time, I don’t try to run away.

I’m poised on the landing between the first and second floor waiting, because he thinks he’s smarter than me, because he thinks he knows my plan, he fires at the door, and then rushes through it.

He’s certain I went I through the door this time, and he rushes into the hallway finding it empty, but hearing my voice call his name.

“Andrew!” I call, loud enough that he can hear me through the cinderblock walls and metal doors, and I hear him shove the door open, again screaming out a muffled swear.

“Come and get me, you stupid fucker!”

I’m taunting him, and I realize how stupid it is, but I need him to use that last bullet.

He’s not counting but I am. He only has one left and I have two more floors.

I need him to fire at me. I need him to waste that last one, because I can’t reach that lobby and risk him shooting at Steve or someone walking by the building or an innocent person who happens to be there.

I know I’m putting myself in extreme danger. I realize he might have another magazine. Hell, he could even hit me with the one bullet he has left, but I’m throwing everything into the fact that he’s not that bright, and he and his plan are fucked.

He’s lost his wife, he shot an unarmed security guard, he’s about to lose his job, and it’s obvious that he’s paid people off to keep them quiet.

He’s not thinking clearly. Rage fueled this rampage he’s on, and rage is about to bring him down.

I haven’t moved from the landing, my feet firmly planted despite my mind telling me to get the fuck out of there. And that’s when Andrew appears, bloodied, red-faced and sweaty, looking down on me from the stairway above.

I can practically feel the anger radiating from his body, his teeth bared and he roars at me, deep and guttural. With his feet planted wide and his hands shaking, he drags one hand across his hair and laughs like he’s caught me.

“You fucking cunt!” he stammers, a shaky finger jutting out in my direction.

And if I were a betting woman, I could’ve netted myself a ton of money today, because Andrew does exactly what I hoped and he shoots the last bullet at me.