Page 63 of Painkiller (Sin Records #3)

T he shot tore through the air, loud and final. It ricocheted off the steel walls, a violent echo that felt like it would never stop. I waited for sirens. For someone to care. For the world to react.

Nothing.

No sirens. No help. No one gave a damn.

But suddenly I did, and a scream ripped from my throat and tears flooded my eyes. My father’s body hit the ground. His gasps were shallow. Desperate. His blood painted the floor, dark and spreading. A masterpiece of every nightmare I’d ever have.

And all the time we lost because he couldn’t handle losing my mother, will always be my greatest regret.

It’s easier to remember the man who walked away than the one who once stayed. He’s why I’m here.

But I still remember the father he was. The man who adored his children. That doted on his wife.

I’m sure his issues with whatever he got himself into didn’t appear out of nowhere. While grief may have played a part, I’m not na?ve enough to think they weren’t already a problem.

He was undoubtedly flawed.

But aren’t we all?

It doesn’t negate that for twelve years he was the greatest dad to two little girls, a loving son, and a devoted husband. My mom would’ve wanted me to forgive him. So would Nana. Especially in this moment.

He reaches up, grasping my pants as blood paints his lips. I don’t hesitate to meet his request, dropping to my knees beside him. There’s no concern or care that I’m covered in his blood. My fingers lace with his as sorrow and regret spill down my face.

His eyes, the same shade as mine, are wide and fearful. “P-oppy,” he rasps with struggling breaths. “I-I’m—”

“Shh,” I brush back his auburn hair. It’s soaked with sweat and grime, making my heart clench at the condition he allowed himself to get to.

And I wonder…

Maybe his abandonment was a kindness. Protection from witnessing his grief or from becoming him.

Or try to because Phoebe has tumbled down a dark path despite him.

“I-I need you…” He coughs a harsh, gurgling sound. “S-sorr…Love y…” He coughs again, harder this time.

I squeeze his icy fingers. A river runs down my cheeks, dripping from my face, mixing with the one that flows from his eyes. “It’s okay, Daddy,” I whisper, leaning over him. “It’s o—”

Pain rips through my scalp as I’m lifted from my feet. A cry peels past my lips, not in pain or anger but grief. The thought of leaving my dad to suffer his last moments alone shreds my heart.

“So sweet, but I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” He points his gun at my dad again and pulls the trigger.

The light leaves my dad’s eyes the moment the bullet enters his forehead. Sobs heave my shoulders. Wretched wails spill from my mouth. I kick and fight against this asshole’s hold until all the fight leaves my body.

He uncuffs my ankle from whatever I’m bound to, then I’m pulled away, over to a corner across the room, then tossed onto the floor. “Why the hell are you crying? He’s the one who had me take you.”

I have no words. Anything I say would only sound like an excuse, so I say nothing. “Get comfortable. We’ve got a while until your boyfriend meets with us.”

“It won’t matter,” I whimper. “He can’t get that kind of money that fast. No one can.”

“You better hope he does or I’ll kill you next.” His salacious gaze rakes over me. My skin crawls with disgust. “After I get done using you, that is.”

He stomps off, and I take a moment, trying to get a new grasp on my surroundings now that I’m no longer bound.

There’s a side door across from me, but there are two guys sitting at the table next to it, playing cards.

I watched a few other men go up the stairs to the right of me earlier.

One more door is to my left, but that’s the way my captor just went.

My stomach knots when I realize there’s no exit.

Not one that I can get through unnoticed.

I lean back against the wall and pull my knees to my chest. There’s nothing I can do. I’m truly captive, and when Jagger comes, they’ll kill him, too. If he comes.

I hope he doesn’t.

A piece of broken glass glistens under the light. I reach across the ground and pick it up, cutting my thumb on the jagged edge. It’s only about three inches long, but that’s more than enough.

There’s only one way this will end.

And that’s on my terms.

My head pounds from…Stress? Dehydration from tears? Grief? All of it? Loud music blaring from a stereo system doesn’t help. Time blurs. Song after song plays until the throbbing becomes blinding. But I keep my eyes open. Remain vigilant.

Movement catches my attention. Goosebumps erupt over my entire body with awareness I can’t place. My brows dip when the two guys at the table slump over for no reason. Before I can search for the cause, I’m yanked to my feet, a thick arm wrapped around my neck.

“Make a sound, and I will kill your boyfriend the second he steps out.” My heart thunders against my ribs at the threat.

It’s not Jagger.

He wouldn’t try something this foolish. This reckless. Would he?

Except I know, unequivocally, he would. He will do anything to protect the people he loves. Even if it means risking his own life.

Seconds tick by. My eyes dart from side to side, searching. Panic grips my lungs, seizing my lifeline, when I spot my dad’s body, his head in the lap of a stranger. A woman dressed just like me, with red hair spilling over her shoulders.

Jagger steps around an old car. Despite the threat, my mouth opens, a warning blistering my tongue. A heavy hand silences me. I scream behind the grimy palm, but my muffled alarm is drowned out by the blasting music.

Terror clutches my heart in its fist, squeezing tighter with each move he makes.

The woman’s lips curl. Her eyes lift. Malicious intent meets mine.

He grips her shoulder. She spins. His eyes grow wide, pain etching across his defined features.

He rips the knife from his side, the pain turning to vengeance as he grips her by the throat. The silver edge presses against her throat as I’m forced out of the shadows. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Jagger’s head snaps our way. His eyes blaze a path over me, cataloguing every inch, then flash to the man holding me. To the gun digging into my ribs.

“Drop the knife,” my captor orders.

“Why would I do that?” Jagger hisses, turning his attention back to the woman in front of him.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill your little girlfriend.” He digs the metal barrel further into my ribs. Blood floods my mouth as I fight to contain my groan. They won’t get more cries or screams from me.

“Do you think I believe if I let her go, you’ll release Poppy? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

“A pretty big one since you can’t follow simple rules.”

“Again. Because I’m not an idiot.” Blood trickles from the pressure of the blade against the woman’s sensitive flesh. She whimpers, her eyes growing wide. The perilousness of her situation finally sinks in.

Jagger has as little reluctance about killing her as the man with the gun in my ribs has about killing me.

Jagger digs the knife even deeper. A tear trickles down the woman’s cheek. “Brett, do something.”

Time trickles like sand. Brett doesn’t budge in his hold on me. The gun never lowers. The glass I’ve been holding digs into my flesh. Warm, wet crimson drips down my fingers. What I hoped would be a weapon is nothing more than an addition to my pain. Until his grip loosens, I can’t use it.

The standoff seems to last forever.

Then my eyes leap past Jagger.

This isn’t a standoff, it’s a distraction.

My eyes widen as a man approaches Jagger, gun raised. I bite into the flesh wrapped around my mouth, knowing the reaction might not be in my favor, but needing to do something.

He does as I hoped, releasing me for a second.

Just long enough for me to yell Jagger’s name as I bury the glass into Brett’s thigh.

“Behind you.” I lunge for him, but I’m jerked back, slamming against the concrete with a disturbing thud.

For a moment, my vision darkens, and stars dance.

My ears ring with a high-pitched vibrato.

Pain blasts through my head, vibrating down my body like a jackhammer.

I turn, needing to find Jagger. To make sure he’s okay.

My vision clears just enough to see dark liquid spreading beneath a fallen figure.

My stomach drops.. The cut on my hand aches as I place it on the concrete, trying to push myself to my knees so I can crawl. Before I can get up, someone grabs me.

I’m tired. I’m weak. Everything hurts.

But I’m sick and fucking tired of people grabbing me.

My elbow jabs into something hard. The grip on me loosens enough that I manage to stomp my foot into my captor’s. It’s a pitiful effort, but it’s an effort that works enough for me to get five steps away before I’m grabbed again.

“Poppy.” My ears are still ringing, but I calm down at the familiar tone. “Calm down.”

But I don’t because what I see in front of me terrifies me and breaks my heart. Jagger is on top of Brett, the same look in his eyes I saw the night of his fight. Unhinged and out of control. His fists land against the man’s face like death and destruction.

“Let me go,” I demand, my voice sounding raw and thick as I use what energy I have left to kick and thrash in his hold. I need to go after him, to stop him from doing something he will regret, but Will’s arms are a cage around me. “I have to stop him.”

“You can’t, Poppy. You’ll get hurt.”

“Then you stop him!”

“Fuck,” he hisses, letting me go. He clears the distance between us and Jagger in a millisecond.

It takes several attempts to pull him off the man, and when he finally does, Jagger swings at him.

He lands a solid hit to Will’s chin and another to his jaw.

Will manages to dodge the third attempt, but Jagger doesn’t stop coming.

Not knowing what else to do, I race toward them, throwing myself between them. Will pushes me away just as fast, cursing and telling me to stay away.