And then the door from behind us swung open, Cruz—Bastien’s nephew—shooting in with a wild look in his eyes. “Cruz? What’s going on? Why are you here? Are you okay?”
He shook his head, terror lacing his young irises. “I wanted to surprise Uncle Bash at Mass this morning but when the cab pulled up outside I saw—”
“What? What did you see?” I shot up, terror icing my veins as I imagined Bastien hurt, or worse.
“I—
“Tressa!” Lucy’s breath rattled with pain or fear, or a mix of both. “Bastien’s out there withhim.”
“With him?” I glanced back through the crack in the door, eyes scanning for any signs of more bodies. Alive or otherwise. “Who’shim?It looks clear from here. I don’t even hear anything.”
Lucy shook her head, tears splashing down her cheeks as she tried to quell the surge of blood soaking her sweater and Ms. Watson’s jacket. “Tressa, you don’t understand. Close the door and lock it. The father of this baby isout there.” Fresh tears coated her cheeks as she rubbed at her tiny belly. “I think he’s got a gun.”
“What?” The shrill tone of my reply hurt my own ears and made me painfully aware a second too late that I’d just given away our hiding place.
“I saw it, I saw something, the cab pulled away before I could tell him to call the police, but we need the police, Tressa. There’s a very bad man out there.”
“Oh my God.” I tried to calculate how many minutes it’d been since he’d left me.
Too long.
That was how long.
Fear and courage swam in my veins, steeling my muscles for the bravery I knew I needed to save the man I loved.
“I’m going.”
“Not unless you have a death wish.” Cruz warned.
“I have to.” I choked.
“Then I’m going too,” Cruz pushed between me and the door. The sounds of a scuffle were slight but present as soon as soon as he eased open the door into the church.
“Two minutes, I promise, Luce. Just hang tight, okay?” I gave her one last kiss on the forehead. Our eyes met, gazes watered down with fear.
“No, Tressa, please.” She looked down at Ms. Watson. Before Lucy could look back and beg me to stay again, I slipped out of the sacristy and into the main chamber of the church hot on Cruz’s heels. My eyes scanned the pews, searching for anyone else who may need help. It looked clear, the only victims already accounted for in the room I’d just left.
Sliding along the cold stone wall, I measured my breathing with my footsteps, keeping to the shadows as the sound of soft grunts grew louder in my ears.
Bastien’s warm, deeply inflected voice uttered something before all was silent again. Cruz turned back to me and nodded. “I hear them.”
We came to the corner, only steps away from the set of doors that would open into the front vestibule of the church. My eyes caught on the iron cross that hung on a tiny hook next to the door. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please pray for the man I am about to save.”
Barbed wire cinched tighter around my heart, crushing my courage one millimeter at a time, deflating my resolve.
I could run the other way.
Escape out the back door, dial 9-1-1 as I ran down the sidewalk, and never look back.
And then I heard it.
The soft snick of a bullet sliding into a chamber.
Fire tore through every vein as I fisted the heavy cross on the wall and yanked, the old hook coming free of the stone easily but before I could power with all the force I had through the double doors to save Bastien, Cruz caught my wrist and curled his fingers around the cold iron, sliding the cross from my grip easily and charging into the vestibule. A man in black, beanie pulled low over his head, gripped Bastien’s neck with one hand, a gleaming revolver in the other. The barrel aimed right at Bastien’s temple.
I choked as fear froze me but without pausing, Cruz smashed the cold iron cross into the attacker’s head, unwilling to stop, primal adrenaline released with every pummel. The attacker fell to the ground, gun clutched in one hand, and still, Cruz attacked. Bastien swept the gun from the man’s limp fingers and made quick work of tying the assailant’s hands as tightly as he could muster with his belt. Once Bastien was sure he was secured, his eyes met mine.
“I’ve got him,” Bastien murmured, hand slipping over mine to ease the cross from my hands.
