He grunted, but his grip on me didn’t lessen. Jerking my head to the right and then back sent a pounding pain through my skull.
Dirk’s instructions maybe didn’t work on a man built like a tank. I struggled to get my mouth open.
“Stay back, Trace. I can use a bullet or just break her neck.”
“Stu, you’re not getting away. Just let her go. You haven’t murdered anyone.”
“Have you forgotten about Dirk?” He growled and stepped back two steps.
My feet slipped out from under me and my full weight almost caused him to lose his grip. I got my mouth open and bit down on his hand as hard as I could.
To his credit, he didn’t drop me immediately. My teeth sunk in as I heard him grunt. I could feel drops of warm liquid in my mouth. Getting my feet under me, I raised one foot again and tried to stomp on his foot and missed. The hard concrete sent shock waves through my foot.
He jerked me back again while Trace moved closer, gun aimed.
Stu aimed his gun at Trace. “I’ll put a bullet between your eyes, Trace. Not one more step further.”
I grabbed Stu’s thumb—the one held across my mouth—with both hands and pulled as hard as I could. My teeth were still sunk into the meaty part below the thumb and the suddenness of my move surprised him. With his thumb pulled back, his grip loosened, and I bent my knees, lifting my feet off the floor like I was about to do a spin on the stripper pole.
He didn’t drop me, but I slid until he held my head against his belly.
Trace didn’t hesitate and fired. Stu returned one shot at the same time Trace fired again. I heard the thump of bullets hitting my captor.
His grip loosened completely, and I fell to the ground. I rolled quickly to the side away from Stu as Trace and others rushed to restrain him and kick his gun away.
When I got to my knees, I saw two red spots expanding on his upper chest.
“Call an ambulance and police. Now.” Trace shouted out instructions as another man knelt over Stu and applied gauze and pressure to both wounds.
I could do nothing but sit there, butt on my heels, as my body started trembling. Somehow, I had survived and my body knew it. All that adrenaline had to go somewhere.
Trace stepped toward me and knelt at my side. “You’re going to be okay.”
I put my head on his shoulder and just felt my entire body relax. Soon, someone wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and someone else handed me a bottle of water.
Two men worked on Stu, doing everything to keep him alive. They talked, but it all seemed like radio chatter, useless noise that I couldn’t understand.
After taking a long chug of water, I glanced up at Trace. “What about Scarlet? Where is she?”
* * *
The door of the leased jet, which would fly me to Belize, closed, and I relaxed. A little bit. Until the plane took off and landed at its destination, I couldn’t completely relax.
Plan B was in full swing. Plan A involved sticking around for weeks or a month, maybe even a year, until the estate was settled, and I had everything I deserved. My phone call to Stu had changed all that. Plan B was now my best option. Maybe my only option.
I had been at a posh LA restaurant with friends, securing my alibi. Slipping away to the restroom where I could talk in private, I called Stu. When Trace answered the phone, my body froze.
“Scarlet. Calling to check up on your man?”
I said nothing. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
“I regret to inform you that Stu Morgan cannot talk to you at the moment. He took two bullets to the chest.”
“Is he dead?” Weakness and some ill-placed sentiment for the man I’d been fucking behind my husband’s back for almost a year now pulled the words out of me.
“He might live. And if he does, I’m sure he’s going to have quite a story for us. One that involves an unfaithful wife…”
“Shut up, Trace. You’ve always been too self-righteous for my taste.”
