His eyes went wide. He looked at Rachel, then at the open door, then back at her. The realization dawned on his face…the police were coming, and he was out of time.
“No,” David said, his voice thick with desperation. “No, no, no?—”
He dragged Rachel toward the door, his arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand clamped over her mouth. Rachel bit down hard on his palm, and David yelped, but he didn't let go.
Rachel could hear footsteps pounding up the stairwell. Voices shouting. Jack's sharp and commanding voice.
“Sheriff’s department! Let her go!”
She could see Jack now, gun drawn, Mark right behind him. Other deputies crowded the stairwell, weapons raised, faces grim.
“Let her go, David,” Jack said again. His voice was steady, but Rachel could see the fear in his eyes. The desperation. “It's over. Let her go, and we can talk about this.”
“Talk?” His laugh was wild, unhinged. “There's nothing to talk about. It’s all ruined. Everything.”
“She didn't do anything,” Jack said, his eyes locked on David's. “You did this to yourself. But it doesn't have to get worse. Let Rachel go.”
Rachel felt David's grip tighten. His arm was crushing her ribs, making it hard to breathe. She could smell the alcohol on him, could feel the tremor in his hands. She was terrified he was going to hurt himself trying to decide what to do.
Rachel made her choice. She went completely limp, her full weight dropping suddenly in David's arms. The unexpected shift threw him off-balance. He tripped over her, still trying to grab her, but Jack was faster. He closed the distance in two strides and slammed into David, driving him back against the wall. Mark was there a second later, and together, they wrestled David to the ground, cuffs clicking into place around his wrists.
“You're under arrest,” Mark said, his voice hard as steel. “For distribution of controlled substances to minors, assault, attempted kidnapping?—”
Rachel didn't hear the rest. She sat on the floor, her whole body shaking, and watched as they hauled David to his feet. He was now crying, but it was over.
Jack appeared in front of her, his face pale, his eyes searching hers. “Rachel. Are you hurt?”
Rachel shook her head, then realized she was crying. “I'm okay. I have some cuts, but I’m okay.”
Jack pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face in his chest. She could hear his heart hammering, could feel his hands shaking as they held her.
“You're safe,” Jack said, his voice rough. “You're safe now. I've got you.” He looked over at Mark. “Is EMT here? She’s got cuts.”
He stood with her in his arms, then carefully set her onto the sofa, before sitting next to her, his arm wrapped around her.
A few minutes later, Jose and his partner hustled in. Jose sat on her coffee table as he looked at the cuts on her legs, feet, and hands. He cleaned them, then applied ointment before bandaging the worst of them. “Hey, Rachel. You might not remember me, but I’m?—”
“Jose,” she said, offering him a smile. “Of course I remember you.”
He looked down at the ceramic pieces on the floor. “I assume this is what you were cut with?”
“Yes. When David and I scuffled, I cut myself.”
“Are you current on your tetanus vaccination?”
She nodded, then winced as the antiseptic stung slightly. “Yes.”
“That’s good.” He smiled. “This should take care of you, but if you have any redness, swelling, or signs of infection, go to the ER, okay?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine?—”
“She’ll go.” Jack interrupted, his eyes narrowed. “I’ll watch her and take her to the ER at the first sign of infection.”
Jose tried to hide his grin as he nodded. He glanced back at the floor and asked, “Did the cup get broken during the altercation?”
Rachel pressed her lips together. But with Jack’s and Jose’s gaze pinned on her, she finally huffed. “No… not really. I threw the cup and aimed for his head.” She looked over at Jack and narrowed her eyes. “You can’t laugh, but my throw sucked as always. It hit the wall next to him and shattered.”
Jack didn’t laugh, but Jose made no promise and chuckled.
