Page 51 of The Starlet
“Shh, it’s all right. It’s done. You’re safe.” His hand rubs up and down my back, soothing me. My body shakes in his arms as I allow all the fear and unease to escape my body. I clutch his shirt like he’s my lifeline—my will to breathe. So many horrible images ran through my mind when the gun went off, and I allow them to fade as if only a bad memory.
“Ms. Conners, we’re going to need to get a statement from you and Mr. Mathas,” Detective Greene says.
“Give us a few minutes, and I’ll get her into the living room,” Brad says. The rumble of his voice in his chest soothes me further.
He taps the back of my legs, and I jump up, wrapping my legs around his slim waist. Reluctantly, I pull my head back to look him in the eyes. We move down the hallway to my bedroom, and he closes the door behind him, encasing us in the safety of my room. My lips find his, and I kiss him with a frantic urge. I’m powerless to stop the turmoil rolling through my system.
“I thought I lost you,” I whisper.
I slide down his body, my feet landing on the plush, fuzzy rug under me. He keeps his arms locked around my waist, holding me to him. His heart has slowed down to a normal beat, but his body is still suffering aftershocks of his adrenaline rush.
“Tell me what happened.” I look into his eyes, needing to hear the truth.
He drops his gaze to the floor, focusing on his shuffling feet. I place my index finger under his chin and raise his face back to mine.
“He wouldn’t drop the gun, so Greene shot him in the leg. He went down like a ton of bricks, and a few guys detained him.” Something changes in his eyes then—fear becomes anger, and his nostrils flare. “What the fuck were you thinking, using yourself as bait?” he yells.
I take a step back, startled by the volume. “H-how did you know that?”
“I was sick of you not returning my calls and texts. I came over and was going to make you talk to me. Then, I saw Jimmy sitting in a van, and I heard your voice over his headphones.” He runs his fingers through his hair and starts pacing in front of me—three steps in one direction, and three back. Nothing is said between us as he continues to pace.
“I thought he put you up to this. I almost decked him for it. Then, he told meyouwere the mastermind behind this great plan.” He stops and stares at me. “You have no idea how that made me feel. You’d risk yourself, after everything I told you about Jasmine? Why?”
The tears have started again. Fat droplets of water fall down my cheeks. I cross my arms over my chest in a need to appear stronger than I feel. “I needed it to end. I need my life back. You don’t deserve all the shit you’re going through, and I’d never forgive myself if it affected you or your career. More than it already has, that is.” I wipe the water under my eyes and look at the ceiling.
His stance softens. “Elle, this goes so far beyond my career. I said I love you. I don’t toss that phase around lightly. I mean it. You’re very important to me, and if anything would have happened to you,” he pauses and takes a deep breath, “I would never have been able to live with myself. It happened once, and I survived the pain. I don’t think I’d be able to survive losing you.” He reaches for my hands, encasing them with his as he brings them to his lips. He places a feather light kiss to each of my fingertips, his eyes never leaving mine.
Someone knocks on the door, and he opens it without even looking. “Come on, let’s get this over with so we can move on.”
He leads me to the living room, and my breath catches in my throat. There’s a red stain on my floor, and a trail that leads to the front door. The metallic tang of fresh blood hangs in the air. My breathing shallows, and my vision begins to fade around the corners. I’m gasping, trying desperately to get air into my lungs.
Brad takes my face in his hands and focuses my attention on him. “Don’t do this. Look at me. Focus on me. Breathe with me.”
He takes a deep breath in through his nose, and I struggle to match his, then he releases it slowly. He repeats the action, and I mimic him, my breathing returning to normal after a few tries. Every time I try to look at the red stain on the floor, he draws my attention back to him and I get lost in his beautiful brown eyes.
“Let’s sit in the kitchen and answer their questions there, okay?”
I nod and follow him to the kitchen and sit in one of the high-top chairs. The stain is like an itch I can’t scratch. I want to look at it—memorize it—but I’ll spiral again. I force my head forward and tune out the noise of the police around us.
While the detective and Jimmy were in a van, they didn’t have eyes on me and could only go off of what they heard. He asks me several questions to make sure the information they have is not misconstrued. Everything happened not even thirty minutes ago, but I’m having a hard time remembering some details already.
They finish asking me questions after I promise to stop by the precinct in the morning to finish my statement, and they leave, taking all their equipment with them. Jimmy sticks around and dismantles the microphones he’s placed around the house. When he finishes, he gives me a warm smile, and I pull him in for a hug.
“Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Don’t mention it. Now, do me a favor and fix things with him,” he whispers and releases me.
He leaves, closing the door behind him. I turn to look at Bradley. His arms are crossed over his chest, and I see the small tick in his jaw.
I reach toward him and drop my hands when he doesn’t move.
“You’re in a lot of trouble. You’re coming back to my place tonight. Not a chance in hell I’m leaving you here.”
I open my mouth to argue. I have to find someone to clean up, and I have to figure out what I’m going to say tomorrow, but one look at his stern expression tells me not to. “Okay,” I whisper.
He stands in front of me and wraps his arms around me, his right hand landing on my ass cheek.
“Your ass is going to be so red by the time I’m done, naughty girl.”