Chapter Thirty-Four
The alert came through the radio just as Trent’s sister’s text hit his phone. “Phoenix has the boys. She and Tommy are heading back now. We don’t have much time.”
“Let’s move.” Pete threw the van into drive and floored it. “We have to move fast if the police were already notified. That means he knows they’re missing.”
Trent didn't waste time on comments. He gripped his gun and opened the door before the van stopped. An alarm squealed and his blood turned to ice as a shot rent the air. “Fuck!”
The van rammed into the curb and he stumbled onto the grass, his legs pumping as he raced over the lawns, his eyes on Hunt’s house, his finger on the trigger.
Leaping over a low row of hedges, he spotted Hunt’s car in the driveway. Another shot blasted from within the house. “Chloe!”
His heart burst with fear as another shot exploded. His feet slid out from under him as he skidded around the car. “Chloe!”
The piercing shrill of the alarm was deafening. He shoved into the door, grunting with effort as it grudgingly gave. On the floor, a bloody hand, tipped with chipped polish, came into view and his heart stuttered.
“No.” He pointed his gun through the opening and carefully shoved his way in, his gaze torn between the heap on the floor and Chloe’s wilted form behind the door.
“Baby.” He crouched, quickly placing a finger on her pulse and shoving away the gun by her side. He panted, rushing to the body filling the hall and using the toe of his boot to get a better look. Hunt’s cold, lifeless eyes stared back at him.
Jesus Christ… Turning, he holstered his gun and dropped to his knees. Blood speckled her knuckles and covered her face. “Chloe, I’m here.”
A ravaged cough, painful to his ears, preceded a moan. The wind knocked out of him as he took in her battered face, her throat a mass of purple bruising, blood seeping from a cut above her eye.
“Chloe, baby, open your eyes.” Tears blurred his vision as he carefully pulled her wilted body onto his lap. “We got the boys. They’re safe.” Sirens whined in the distance. “The police are on their way.”
She lay, unconscious, her face, hair, and eyes smeared with blood. The gash by her eye continued gushing slick crimson. He pressed his fingers over the wound to slow the bleeding as he cradled her face in his arms. The air filled with the metallic scent.
“He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now…” He rocked, fighting to catch his breath and stop the bleeding.
His jaw quivered as he carefully examined the laceration marks around her delicate neck. A strangled sob left his throat. Her pulse remained light, the slightest ripple of a butterfly wing. “You’re gonna be all right. Everything’s going to be all right.” He needed to hear the promise out loud.
“Jesus.” Pete stood in the doorway, his eyes wide at the sight of so much violence.
“She’s gonna be all right,” Trent told him in a hoarse voice he barely recognized.
Pete assessed the other body with a quick once over and nodded. “Let’s get her out of here.”
Cradling her flaccid body in his arms, he rose to his knees as Pete held the door. The alarm coming from inside the house blended with the nearing sirens. He collapsed on the lawn, rocking her body with his. Pete’s shadow fell over them.
“Don’t let the boys see her like th—this. Tell Phoenix to get them out of here.”
Pete’s voice whispered behind him as a rush of lights flashed. Squad cars and an ambulance crowded the curb as people neared and voices spoke to him. He couldn’t make sense of their words and panicked as a gloved set of hands tried to pull her out of his arms. “She’s hurt.”
“We’re going to help her, sir. You need to give us space.”
He let go and swallowed back a gasp. His heart filled his throat as they laid her body out on the lawn. He reached for her curled fingers, delicately holding them in his. “You’re gonna be all right, baby. You’re safe now.”
Random thoughts rushed through his head. Her smile. The sound of her laugh. Making love. The sight of her blush. The fear in her eyes the first time she looked at him in that subway six years ago. The way she looked at him the other day when Hunt told her the truth of his betrayal. The way she looked now.
He dragged the back of his hand under her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Chloe.”
Marcus Hunt was dead and that should bring him some level of satisfaction, but seeing what it had cost her… No one deserved this.
He could have prevented this if they’d moved faster. When the cops warned him to keep away, he should have argued harder. He told them Hunt was lying, but Chloe had given a statement confirming Hunt’s accusations. How terrified she must have been to lie for that animal.
His lips trembled as they lifted her onto a stretcher. He hovered, never letting go of her hand. “Be careful with her.”
Pete’s hand closed over his shoulder. “The cops need—”
“They can wait. I’m not leaving her side.”
His brother in law nodded. “We’ll be right behind you.”