If he is now fleeing the scene, how can I best help him? Should I get in a standoff with the police to give him time to get farther away?
He still has a birth to attend. The whole reason he escaped from prison. The least I can do is give him the best chance to make it there. Disguise the fact that he’s not in the room with me for as long as I can.
My throat clutches as I understand it’s over. The devastation cuts through me, my spirits plummeting low when they had been riding so high.
Either he’s gone, cutting his losses, hoping to see his child before they catch up with him or they’re bundling him into the back of a prisoner transport van right now.
I hope he got away.
Even if it means I never see him again, I hope he got away.
“This is the police. Occupants of room twenty-two, please come out with your hands up. We have the place surrounded.”
Yeah. I had noticed, thanks.
Occupants. He still thinks there’s two of you.
Elation bursts inside me. My mind pulls into keener focus.
Should I stay inside until they bust down the door? I know they’ll easily get through the flimsy barricade. Do I chance it, knowing that every second they’re distracted with me gives Kai the same advantage to get away?
Or would he tell me to obey their instructions, go outside, and surrender, knowing that not doing that means an increased risk to my safety? For every second those armed officers are outside, getting tenser, the more likely they’ll be to shoot.
My common sense wins out.
Josh’s last visual of me shouldn’t be on TV, watching as police gunfire splatters me all over the sad parking lot outside. I’ve inflicted enough dubious choices on him to last his lifetime.
And I’m also partial to not being cut down in a hail of gunfire. Dawn birdsong is a better theme music to start my day.
“I’m coming out,” I yell at the top of my lungs, then spend half a minute trying to catch my breath again. It’s hard when my chest feels like a giant is squeezing it between their hands.
Slowly, slowly I get to my feet, stumbling slightly as I lose my balance, head swimming with fear and sorrow. With my hands at shoulder height, I inch towards the door, uncertain if any of the armed police outside can see me, cursing under my breath that I turned off the lights.
Once near the door, I flick the switch there and wait out the burst of renewed activity from outside. A repeat of the instructions and I pull aside the net curtain so they can clearly see me obeying their directives before I reach for the doorknob and twist it, pushing the door open. It swings ajar and I wait until I know for sure they can see I’m alone before I begin the laboriously slow process of tiptoeing outside.
One officer trains a gun on me while another pulls me aside from the door, cuffing my arms behind my back.
The woman in charge has the chevrons of a senior sergeant on her uniform. My eyes travel past her as she barks questions at me, scanning the street where I last saw Kai.
He’s gone. So’s the vehicle.
I close my eyes in relief, sagging slightly as I lose my balance almost immediately.
He got away. Not forever and maybe not for long, but for the moment, he’s free.
My focus returns to the police, answering their jagged questions as best I can.
No, there’s no one else inside the room. No, I’m not carrying any weapons. No, I don’t know where the man who took me hostage has gone.
“When did you last see Malakai Roberts?”
Roberts. I must have read his name in the paper, listened to newsreaders say it on the radio, but it didn’t stick. It feels funny now to hear another person say it aloud. Six hours ago, I had his cock in my hand but until a minute ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone his full name.
There could be a lesson in there. Probably not.
While four officers perform a sweep of the room, another leads me to the back of a vehicle.
I feel like sobbing. Even if I knew this was coming, nothing prepared me for how awful it feels.
