Kelsey
How many minutes passed in dense quiet as she huddled on the floor, her hands holding her belly? Her lower back began to ache; she could feel the hard base of the sofa pressing against her spine. Kelsey wanted to stretch out her legs, but she kept them bunch up underneath her, in case she had to get up and run. With her eyes closed, she found she could hear better, and her thoughts shut up for the first time in what felt like ages. It was almost a Zen state, a feeling of hanging suspended between utter calm and utter chaos.
It did not last long.
The first hit to Chopper’s front door jolted Kelsey back into reality so sharply she almost screamed. Reflexively, she clamped her hands over her own mouth as she scrambled to her feet. On the second hit, she heard something crack and splinter, and she knew that if the locking mechanism didn’t give way soon, the door itself would fail. It was time for her to go.
She grabbed her phone off the floor and made her way as quickly as she could toward the back door. If that was covered too, she’d be totally screwed, but she had to take the chance. The front came crashing in as she put her hand on the knob, and suddenly the house was full of a voice she recognized with disgust.
“Where you at, little lady?” Spike called. Kelsey fumbled with the door lock, resisting the urge to look back and gauge his progress. She hoped against hope that he wouldn’t notice her until it was too late, but at that moment, his familiar whistle pierced the air.
“I spy, with my little eye … a no-good-traitor bitch!” he roared. Then he was lunging forward across the living room, reaching out his hand to grab her. She jumped when she felt his fingers close on her wrist, but the door slammed open, and his grip loosened just enough for Kelsey to slide her limb free.
She ditched her zip-up sweater, leaving Spike hanging onto it as he stood gaping in the doorway for a second. She’d shocked him just enough to buy herself a tiny head start, but she could hear him ordering his men to cut her off. There was no way for her to outrun the Mongols, especially not while her pregnancy slowed her down. Desperate, Kelsey ducked into a thick hedge. The twigs scratched at her, but she barely felt it. She looked at her phone and called Chopper.
When he answered, she could hear something in the background, as if he was outside. “Where are you?” he said immediately. “Are you okay?”
“Chopper, I don’t know what happened.” She talked as quietly as she could, fearful that Spike was just outside her makeshift hiding spot. “Spike came to the house. I ran, and now he’s looking for me.”
He didn’t answer right away. “Yeah, he’s looking for me, too.” He sighed. “Look, Kelsey, if I don’t get to see you again, I just want you to know that you changed my life. You changed my life forever.”
“What?” Kelsey frowned. “What are you talking about? I don’t know what to do.” She brushed a lock of hair from her face, pressing the phone against her cheek to keep it from shaking in her hand. Chopper’s words scared her, and the noise in the background was getting louder. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What is that sound?”
“I gotta go, babe,” he said. There was an unfamiliar undercurrent of sadness in his voice. “Stay where you are if you can, or if you can’t, try to get somewhere safe. And when you get there, wait for me. I’ll come for you if I can.”
She wanted to ask him what he meant, but her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps approaching her hiding spot. “Okay,” she said breathlessly. “Okay. Chopper, I —”
“They’re here,” he said abruptly. “I love you.” The line went dead.
A thin shaft of moonlight pierced through the hedge as some of the dense twigs were pushed aside. Kelsey froze. The backlight on her cell phone hadn’t died, and she knew her face was lit from beneath, practically a beacon in the darkness. Sure enough, the next beam of light fell directly on her. She stared up into the man’s face for a moment. It wasn’t Spike.
“Well, well,” he crowed, obviously pleased with himself. Inside, Kelsey scowled. She tensed her body up, preparing to run or fight for her life. “Look what we have here.”
He turned away to call for Spike, and Kelsey took advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration. She sprang from the hedge, ramming her fist directly into his balls. A kick would have been better, she thought, but there was no way her stomach would allow that to happen. The only sound he made was a faint wheezing as the air left his lungs, and as soon as he collapsed, she leapt over his prone form and ran as hard as she could. The commotion alerted the other Mongols, who quickly gave chase. Kelsey cut through the open yards of Chopper’s neighbors. She knew her advantage wouldn’t last long.
Her only hope was to get to somewhere very public, very fast. As ruthless as the Mongols were, not even they would risk a kidnapping in view of an unmanageable number of witnesses. She struggled to get her bearings without stopping. They were gaining on her. She could hear them shouting threats and insults, their voices getting nearer and nearer. Kelsey’s chest burned. She’d been a runner in school, but the baby weight felt like a cannonball strapped to her abdomen. Only panic fueled her speed.
Kelsey burst out of the neighborhood street and onto a main road that she knew led into the city. She quickly looked left and right. A block down was a brightly lit local pub, the tables in front full of patrons. She bolted for it. Some of the cars that were streaming past honked at her, a few slowed down, but she didn’t dare stop long enough to say that she needed help. In the time it took for a driver to get out of their vehicle, Spike could kill her. She didn’t just need to be noticed; she needed to be surrounded.
The Mongols still hadn’t given up. The block before the pub was dark, its streetlights out. If they snatched her before she reached the light spilling out of the pub’s front door, they could still get away with her and the baby. Knowing this, Spike bent into his charge, pumping up his speed. He watched the distance between him and Kelsey Jones decrease incrementally. The bitch was getting tired; she had to be. But he too had noticed the crowded place ahead. He was running out of time. She could scream within earshot of them and everything would be over. Spike had learned over the years that he could count on motorists to turn a blind eye to something happening on the street. Pedestrians? Not so much.
Up ahead, Kelsey gasped for air. Any moment now, she’d falter and he’d catch up and grab her. Hell, he’d tackle her if he had to. This was her punishment for denying him, and Chopper’s for taking her away. For months, he’d let them think they got away with it. He lulled them into a false sense of security. He laid his trap. Now the trap was sprung, and it infuriated Spike to see that his prey might actually be getting away.
He clenched his teeth and forced one more burst of power from his screaming legs. Two packs a day weren’t doing anything for him at the moment. His lungs burned as though he had inhaled a spark from the fires set by Chopper’s bastard lackeys. He made a note to go back and properly express his “gratitude” once he had caught his prize. But the gap between them had stopped closing, and Kelsey was very close to the curb.
Spike stretched out his arm to try to grab at the back of her shirt or her long hair, but only succeeded in brushing the tips of his fingers against her back. This appeared to give her a second wind. She jumped into the street, toward the opposite corner, and he saw a few of the people on the sidewalk turn curiously toward her. Just like that, Spike’s chance was gone. He slowed to a stop, huffing like a steam engine, red rage coloring his vision. In anger, he balled up her discarded sweatshirt, which he still had in his hand, and pelted it at her. She heard him stop, and turned to see where he was. The metal zipper pull lashed across her smooth white cheek, leaving a thin line of red. Spike smiled as she recoiled in pain. That would have to be his consolation prize for now.
He turned around and motioned to his boys, who had caught up. They were all worse for wear, sweat beading on their faces and foreheads, chests in knots, but none of them acknowledged it. “What do we do?” one of them asked.”
Spike shrugged. “We go back for Chopper.” He palmed his phone and put it to his ear as they made their way back toward the street where they had left their bikes. When his second-in-command picked up, Spike Lawler told him to send reinforcements.