Karl was trying to push himself into her as much as Brittany was fighting to pull away from him. The pain in her body was excruciating. The shoulder where he’d stabbed her was wet with her blood. She was resting her weight on her knees and her damaged hands, one full of glass and the other broken. Her womb was clenching and unclenching, opening to release her baby.
But she had to fight until she either got away or he killed her.
In the distance, sirens were blaring and lights were flickering in the darkened room, a haze of red and blue even though the apartment was located on the third floor. A pounding started on the door, drowned out by the whirring of a helicopter.
Just as she thought she’d somehow pulled her mind away from her body to get through Karl’s brutality, the overhead light flicked on, hurting her swelling eyes. A gun cocked.
“Move and you’re a dead man.” A man’s voice but not Trey’s or Bryson’s.
She glanced up, teetering on her hands and knees, a sob rising in her throat. The officer who’d spoken was moving into the room, followed by a long line of blue-uniformed cops with guns drawn and aimed at Karl.
“Holy fuck, look at Sarge’s wife,” a voice gasped.
“Get an ambulance now!”
Brittany swore Spenser, her voice hysterical, had made the order.
Darkness licked at Brittany, an ever-increasing lure to escape her pain and Karl’s mean voice chanting threats.
“If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up and pray we get you out of here before Sergeant Wilson arrives. He’s going to rip your goddamn head off when he sees what you’ve done to his wife.”
“Stay with me.”
Brittany’s eyes were glazing and she felt a release in her belly, warmth sluicing down her legs.
“She’s losing the baby!”
Brittany tried to rise, opened her mouth to comfort Spenser. Instead she collapsed onto her side, her battle over. She breathed in, pulling in some of the blood still leaking from her nose, before closing her eyes and sinking into oblivion.
✽ ✽ ✽
Patrolmen and first responders swarmed his apartment when they arrived. Lights from what seemed like a million cruisers, marked and unmarked, were flashing from all directions, jamming the streets surrounding the complex.
Trey hurried through the pandemonium, skipping the elevator and pounding up the emergency staircase. Reaching the third floor, he found it buzzing with activity. His neighbors were being hustled out of their apartments. Voices were shouting, issuing orders and commands. He shoved ahead, fear almost stealing his sanity. As he drew closer to his doors, a woman’s hysterical sobs reached him.
Brittany! God, she was alive and well. His relief brought tears to his eyes. He couldn’t wait to hold her.
He stepped into the living room and skidded to a halt. Not Brittany. Spenser. Inconsolable. Screaming. For Brittany. For the baby.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Karl yelled, struggling against the hold two patrolmen had on him. He’d managed to get his hands in front of him. Though they were still handcuffed he had better control of his body. “Your bitch ass was supposed to be dead. Your man did right to shoot the fuck out of them. Saved me the trouble.”
Another being invaded Trey. Instead of reacting, his gut twisted at his cousin’s words. Despair stole away his ability to act, move or talk. He watched and listened from far away, numb.
Brittany.
Brittany and their baby were dead.
Time suspended. Voices dulled, sounding like one of his mother’s old-time 45 records stuck at 33 RPM.
As if he were watching a scene played in slow motion, Trey saw Spenser step toward Karl. She spat in his face, drew back her fist and walloped him in his bleeding cheek. A scream of pain. Karl’s scream.
No, Spenser’s scream. Trey squinted, watched her crumple to the floor. A bullet whizzed past his head.
Another scream. Karl’s. Yes, Karl. Blood pooled at the shoulder he was clutching. Gunfire exploded around Trey again and he spun around.
Fury mottled Mitchell’s face, his gun pointed toward Karl. Reality crashed back to Trey and he grabbed Mitchell’s hand. The shot lodged in the ceiling.
Karl’s moans filled the room. He was alive for the time being but if Mitchell put holes in Karl, little by little, he wouldn’t last for long.
Mitchell jerked free and returned his gun to his holster. He reached the unconscious Spenser, lifted her into his arms and laid her on the sofa.
Trey sent a murderous warning glare to the patrolmen holding Karl. “Don’t fucking touch him.”
Trey met his cousin’s gaze and saw the wild, consuming light of insanity. The jagged wound Spenser had punched ran down one side of Karl’s face, open and bleeding, and his shoulder and knee bled from gunshot wounds.
“Where’s my sister?”
An awful silence descended at Bryson’s words, so much worse than the bedlam into which Trey had walked. Everyone stared at each other. Karl’s eyes widened too, and it seemed as if the question sucked away whatever had possessed him.
“Someone answer,” Trey demanded. “Where’s my wife?”
A tremble traveled through Karl’s body. Instead of answering, the officers who’d been struggling with Karl began to propel him forward.
Trey drew his gun and aimed it at Karl’s head. “Move one fucking centimeter more and he’s going to be missing his head.”
“You fucking heard him,” Mitchell yelled. “Keep the son-of-a-bitch here. You halted me from shooting his ass off. Put your fucking gun up, Wilson, and go check on Brittany.”
A heartbeat of grief and devastation surged in Trey and he considered pulling the trigger anyway.
“Shoot him now when no one’s in danger and that’s murder. He’s handcuffed and unarmed.” Mitchell stepped closer to Trey and whispered, “There are too many witnesses. Put away the fucking gun.”
“Then get them the fuck out of here, because he’s a dead man.”
“I didn’t fucking hear that,” Mitchell snapped. He walked to the sofa and kneeled next to Spenser, brushing his fingers through her hair.
Trey holstered his gun. “See to his fucking wounds while he’s waiting,” he ordered, indicating Karl. Trey wanted the man to remain alive until he finished with him.
An officer blocked the hallway and at Trey’s approach, the man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Sir, I-I don’t think you should… The EMTs are working on her and…you just shouldn’t see her right now.”
“So she’s alive?”
The man’s nod was slow and hesitant. He sent a pleading gaze to Mitchell.
“If she’s still here, she’ll want to see me,” Trey snapped, trying to move around the other officer.
The patrolman’s complexion turning a chalky white, he looked away then back at Trey. “She’s unconscious. She won’t even know you’re here.”
Bile rose to Trey’s throat at the pity and sympathy in the other man’s eyes. He moved around the officer and rushed to his bedroom, a howl of rage escaping him when he saw Brittany lying on her side on the floor, her mouth and nose bloodied, her eyes black and swollen. A jagged piece of glass protruded from her shoulder, blood surrounding it.
The monitors indicated she was alive but her vital signs were quite weak.
“She’s pregnant,” he rasped. If Spenser had mistaken Brittany as having died, she must not have been right when she’d said Brittany had lost their baby. “She’s having my daughter.”
One of the EMTs looked up. “Sarge, you shouldn’t be in here right now.”
Another EMT moved her gown aside and Trey realized it had been ripped down the center. A huge bruise bloomed on her hip and belly and blood glistened from her thighs. Trey turned away to get control of his spiraling emotions.
“Jesus Christ.” Mitchell halted beside Trey, horror filling his voice. “Is she alive?”
“For now,” someone said. “But we can’t pick up a heartbeat on the baby. We’ve alerted labor and delivery she may have to have induced labor.”
“Our daughter.”
Trey thought about how much Brittany already loved the baby, how much pride she took in showing off her belly. He’d always felt pride and satisfaction at knowing he was the reason for her condition. He reveled in her excitement and each new experience she went through, never excluding him.
They were lifting Brittany onto the stretcher and her arm fell, dangling off the side.
The paramedics wheeled the gurney forward and Trey halted them. She’d stuck by him through his injury, made him respond to her and tried to protect him.
Love wasn’t supposed to hurt but he’d put her through hell. He splayed his hand on her belly. The life that usually moved within her remained still beneath his touch. “My daughter’s gone.”
He pressed an ear to her stomach, his tears sliding onto the sheet covering her.
Bryson removed Trey’s hand and attempted to drag him out of the way. “They have to get her to the hospital.”
Mitchell placed a hand on his shoulder. “Out of the way, Sergeant Wilson.”
Trey caressed her cheek. “I get it, Brittany. I’ve worried about death when I should’ve focused on life.”
Gliding his fingers through her hair, he kissed her forehead. She didn’t respond, just lay cold and still. As though she were dead. A sob escaped him at the thought.
“You win, baby girl,” he declared in a broken voice. “You win.”
✽ ✽ ✽
His emotions controlled, Trey halted a hair’s breadth from Karl, while the paramedics wheeled Brittany into the hallway, Bryson and a now-conscious Spenser hot on their heels. Mitchell remained with Trey, grim.
Trey studied Karl. Pain clouded the man’s eyes.
“Clear out,” Trey called over his shoulder. “I need to speak to Reverend Wilson alone.”
“Sarge.” One of the patrolmen guarding Karl entreated him. “Please.”
“Out.”
“This is a fucking crime scene, Trey,” Mitchell reminded him.
“Give me ten minutes.”
“No.”
“You’re going to deprive me of ki—”
“Yes!” Mitchell interrupted. “I walked in and heard this fucker’s words. Fucking enough to send a sane man mad. He hit my wife and was trying to escape. I had no choice.”
Watching Karl’s benign smile and gasps of pain, Trey was far from sane and he hated Mitchell for denying Trey what he wanted most.
“Go to the fucking hospital to be at your wife’s side. Leave justice to the courts,” Mitchell continued.
“Is Brittany alive?” Karl smirked at him. “Is your baby?”
“You stupid motherfucker,” Mitchell snarled to Karl.
The words “I’m going to fuck Trey’s baby right out you” danced through Trey’s head. He slammed his fist into Karl’s sliced cheek, gratified to hear the man’s scream. Trey punched Karl again, blood spraying Trey’s face.
His shoulders heaving, Karl raised his gaze to Trey, pure venom in his eyes. “The ever-popular Trey. Brittany didn’t even look at me because she wanted you to fuck her so badly. I don’t know which of you I hated more.” Loathing glimmered in his eyes. “I don’t know which one of you I wanted to fuck more. When she was sucking my cock I imagined it was you.”
A muscle ticking in his jaw, Trey swallowed back bile, his stomach turning at Karl’s words. Of all the revelations he’d expected Karl desiring Trey was the most astonishing.
“When I fucked her the first time I had the satisfaction of taking what she wanted to give you. Her virginity. The faithless little slut. I wanted you to see me with her. I’ve fantasized about watching you fuck her and then fucking you myself.”
Past the point of caring, Trey removed his gun from his holster and double checked the magazine. More than enough ammunition to blow Karl to hell where he belonged.
“Get him out of here,” Mitchell ordered in a harsh voice.
An officer pulled Karl to his feet.
“She screamed in agony then and she did it again tonight,” he sneered, thrusting his face close, using his good shoulder to shrug out of the officer’s grasp. “But there’s not a fucking thing you can do, Sergeant. I’m unarmed, defenseless.”
Trey shoved the barrel of the gun into Karl’s temple, remembering Brittany, thinking of his baby and the terror the night of the shooting at Mitchell’s house. “You came after Brittany the day after Spenser’s attempted murder, didn’t you?”
He snickered, obviously beyond giving a fuck Trey was so close to pulling the trigger his fingers were burning with the restraint he was exercising.
“So good of you to guess. She’s a good fuck. Loves to come.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Mitchell whispered with resignation.
“Why go after Spenser?” Trey wanted answers to make sense of everything.
“Asshole there was on to me. I figured if he was mourning his bitch, he would forget about your whore.”
Glancing at Mitchell, the man’s returning anger gratified Trey. No doubt the lieutenant wanted to cap Karl himself.
“And the stand-off? My shooting?”
“Your sorry little cum receptacle is to blame. I told her not to fuck with me. That day in the gym? She fucking threatened me. Me! Promising to tell you I fucked her. She didn’t believe me when I told her I’d ice you and Bryson if she didn’t keep her fucking mouth shut.” Tears rushed to his eyes. “I had to kill Destiny and one of my bodyguards because of her.”
Trey should put Karl out of his misery. He was a sick bastard. Instead he lowered his gun, disappointed in himself. It should be easy to pull the trigger but he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. No matter how much Karl deserved it, the man was in police custody, unarmed, defenseless and insane.
“You sent me into a trap. The other bodyguard shot me.”
Karl nodded. “He wasn’t supposed to die too. None of them should’ve died. Brittany caused it all. She took you from me then made me love her.” He was gasping, wheezing, panting. He doubled over and swayed. “I need a bathroom.”
While CSU and detectives had been in the house, beginning their arduous tasks, Trey had stood on the verge of committing murder, ruining his life and Brittany’s. He shook his head. “Take him, then get him to a hospital.”
Once Karl was escorted down the hall, Mitchell clutched Trey’s shoulder and shook him. “You’re doing the right thing, Sergeant. You saved my ass tonight when you knocked my hand away. I could do no less for you. Now get to Brittany. You’ve wasted enough fucking time here.”
Before he moved, Karl returned to the room between the two officers who’d escorted him to the bathroom. As he drew near Trey, he realized Karl’s handcuffs had been removed.
“What the fuck?” Mitchell growled, indicating Karl’s free hands with a thrust of his chin.
“He asked to be un-cuffed to take a leak and—”
Without warning, Karl wrapped his legs around Trey’s and brought him crashing to the floor.
“You son-of-a-bitch!” His kick just missed Trey’s ribcage.
Trey grunted, throwing a backhanded fist, and Karl sprawled out, in the line of weapons and Tasers.
“You got everything you ever wanted. Every woman you ever wanted. Brittany even let you make her pregnant. Well fuck you. Someone had to remind you no one gets everything they want in life.”
The rage Trey had withheld broke free and he lunged, not certain where he landed blows on Karl, only knowing his fists, knees, elbows and feet connected over and over with some part of Karl’s body. Every now and then Karl got in a kick or an elbow. Karl was a fighter. Growing up, they’d all been brawlers so this was a dirty, dangerous fight. Trey thought it was over when he kneed Karl in the groin. The man howled and curled into a ball.
His knuckles throbbing and bloody, Trey staggered to his feet. “Now take him away,” he puffed out.
Karl reached for Trey’s gun. His reflexes quicker and his strength greater, Trey seized the weapon and fired three shots in rapid succession, each one hitting Karl’s head, bone fragments, gory gray matter and blood exploding everywhere, granting Trey the justice he’d wanted to mete out all night.
His own.