Page 15 of The Moments You Were Mine

“I need help.”

“Open this fucking door!” Ace roared.

“What the hell is going on?” Parker demanded, instantly on alert. Instantly concerned. “Where are you?”

“The public restrooms at the Laguna Heights National Park,” I said as the door shook and the hinges rattled. “Parker… The door… I don’t know how long it will hold.”

“Goddamnit. I’m ten minutes out. Ten fucking minutes.”

Metal crashed against metal as Ace hammered something into the frame so hard the brick wall actually shook. Celia shoved past me, and I grabbed her arm, pulling her back as my bodytrembled. “You go out there, and he’s going to kill you.”

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

“Who are you talking to? Who’s with you?” Parker demanded, and I heard a car door slam on his end of the line. He’d be here soon. More relief rolled through me. He’d be here. Parker had promised I’d never face danger without him again. And Parker always kept his promises.

Always.

“Celia,” I answered, trying to keep my voice from betraying just how afraid I was. “Ace’s wife.”

“Hang up, call 9-1-1, and then call me back,” Parker instructed.

With shaky hands, I hung up and went to call 9-1-1, but Celia grabbed my phone.

“No!” she said. “You can’t call the cops.”

“What? Why not?”

“You don’t understand!” she shrieked.

I battled her for my phone and had barely grabbed onto it before the hammering started again. Ace furiously indented the door with each strike, the ring harsh and foreboding.

“Celia. Get your ass out here.”

The sound of sirens drifted through the air, and my entire being convulsed with hope. Someone else had heard the fight. Someone had called for help.

Panic spread across Celia’s face at the sound.

“You called the fucking cops!” Ace bellowed, and his battering grew even more frenzied.

My breath got caught in my lungs. What if the cops didn’t make it before he broke it in? Would he use whatever he was hitting against the door on me? On Celia?

Blood and bruises flashed before my eyes. Sadie and I had been covered in them after the attack at the bar.

“Let me out!” Celia shoved me, and I collided with the wall, my head smashing into it with the same ugly crack hers had against the brick outside.

“What are you doing?” I asked, grabbing her biceps and trying to stop her. “He’ll kill you.”

“You have no right! No right to interfere!” she screamed at me.

Red-and-blue lights drifted in through the coke-bottle windows at the top of the brick.

When I heard the squawk of a police radio, I sagged against the wall.

“Sir, put down the shovel and step away from the door.”

“She’s got my wife in there. She’s holding my wife.”

Tension flooded back through me.What the actual fuck?