Thirty-Two
Zoe
My eyes snapped shut, and my head flew forward. I fell to the ground, unable to hear anything but the ringing sound in my ears. My neck stung from the burn. The wound throbbed with every heartbeat, a steady reminder of how close I’d come to dying.
If Archer hadn’t shown up when he did, if he hadn’t been ready to kill Mr. Beetle, my life would be over. Mr. Beetle would have plunged that knife right through my throat, the ultimate payback for not indulging his twisted obsession with me.
“You can’t hurt me.” Mr. Beetle got up off the floor with his knife held high. Blood bloomed from Beetle’s side. He didn’t seem to feel the bullet wound at all. His eyes burned with madness. Maybe he was so crazy he didn’t even register the pain. Maybe he refused to stop before he accomplished what he came here to do. Whatever the case, Mr. Beetle still had plenty of fight left in him.
He bared his teeth in a wordless snarl and ran at Archer. But Archer was ready for him. He sidestepped the reckless attack and kicked Beetle square in the chest. Beetle crumpled to the floor, making horrible wheezing sounds as he tried to breathe again.
Archer flipped him over onto his back. Beetle glared up at him, that dark fire still burning in his eyes. I’d always thought Mr. Beetle was harmless. I had no idea something so sinister lurked beneath his placid surface.
Archer leveled his gun at Mr. Beetle’s face. “I said you were going to die, and I meant it. You deserve it for daring to lay a finger on her.”
“Mean man,” Beetle said. “You’re no good for her. I’m supposed to be with her. Me. Not you.”
Archer reached into his back pocket to pull out a pair of zip ties. Then he grabbed Beetle by the wrist. Beetle started sobbing. His lower lip quivered.
“P-p-please,” the man begged. “I won’t bother Zoe ever again.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ll keep coming back.” Archer bound his wrists first. Then he shoved Beetle onto his side before kneeling down to zip tie his legs, too. “I can’t let that happen.”
Archer had a hard look in his eyes. Merciless. Cold. I realized at that moment Archer meant to kill Mr. Beetle.
“Archer,” I pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”
He stopped and turned to look at me. “Zoe, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. There’s only one way to make sure you’re safe.”
Archer kicked Beetle right in the face, so hard that I could practically feel his nose cracking. Archer didn’t stop. He kicked Beetle in the ribs, the stomach, the chest. I closed my eyes to block out the violent sight, but I couldn’t drown out the horrible sounds.
“Please, Archer. Please, stop.”
“I’m doing this for you, Zoe.”
I opened my eyes to see Archer kneeling beside Beetle. He wrapped his hands around the pitiful man’s neck. Beetle tried to push Archer’s hands away, but he was too weak. He couldn’t get leverage with his bound hands. Archer’s hands never wavered.
“Archer, don’t! It’s over. I’m safe.”
“Not yet, you’re not,” he said, not even turning back to look at me. “You’ll never be safe as long as this sick fuck is still breathing.”
Beetle’s face turned an ugly shade of purple. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and his mouth gaped open as he struggled for air.
“Archer, don’t kill him. Please.”
“He’s crazy.”
“Yes,” I said. “He needs help. Not this.”
“How can you care about this psycho after what he did to you?” Archer asked, his hands still gripping Beetle’s throat.
“Because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But more importantly, I care about you. I care about us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want this hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives. I can’t be with you if you kill him. Don’t throw everything away for someone like him. Just let him go. Let the police handle this.”
Archer’s hands slid from Beetle’s neck. The man fell back on the floor, gasping for breath. Archer stood up and looked down at the man writhing on the floor. “You’re right, Zoe. He’s not worth it.”
He rushed over to me and untied the ropes from my limbs. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
The ropes fell away from me, and I wrapped my arms around Archer. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s all going to be okay now.”
Archer kissed me. There was relief, and angst, and also doubt, but his lips were just as sweet as they’d ever been. He wasn’t the same man he was a few seconds ago. It was frightening how he could switch so easily. One second he was a murderer. The next, he was the loving man that I knew. Which one was the real Archer?
We left Beetle tied up on the floor while Archer called the police. When he was on the phone, a revolver crept past the doorframe, moved side to side, then Chloe’s tear-stained face came into view. She locked eyes with me then ran over to give me a hug.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“I’m fine. It’ll heal in a few days.”
“And Mr. Beetle?”
I motioned toward the kitchen. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“No.”
“Too bad,” she said. “Archer should have killed him.”
I stayed quiet and listened while Archer spoke to the emergency dispatcher. He told them what happened, but he left out the part about choking Beetle half to death. When the police arrived, they didn’t care. It was obvious to them what had happened.
Two officers held Beetle down while they reached into his pocket to pull his ID out.
The female officer dragged Beetle to his feet. “Clarence Andrews,” she said. “You’re under arrest. Kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder. You’re going away for a long time.”
She read him his rights as she walked him out of the apartment. A couple of paramedics came in to check me out. While they did that, more officers came in to take Archer’s statement. He stared at me the entire time the police were talking to him. He seemed sad, like I was still tied up and he never got to me. Part of me wondered if he’d ever leave that moment, or if he’d just be walking through it forever, living his life as if it were a dream.
Despite the blow to the head, I didn’t have a concussion, and I didn’t need stitches. The burn on my neck was superficial. They rubbed some ointment on it, and I was good to go. A detective took my statement after that. I just confirmed everything that Archer said, which was the truth. He had saved my life.
When the police left, Archer asked Chloe to give us a moment. She excused herself to my bedroom, leaving us alone. I was sitting on the couch, staring at the carpet, while Archer paced around in front of me.
“I love you, Zoe. I want you to know that.”
“I do, Archer. I know that.”
He stopped in the middle of the room and stared down at his feet. “And I want to thank you.”
“Thank me? I should be thanking you for saving my life.”
He shrugged. “You saved my life, too. You stopped me from doing something terrible. Something I would have regretted for the rest of my life.”
“You were going to kill him,” I said quietly.
Archer nodded. “I’m not that guy, you know? Please don’t think that’s who I am.”
“You lost control.” I couldn’t even look at him.
“When I saw him put that knife to your throat, I lost it. I wish I hadn’t. I just wanted to protect you.”
“You protected me, but you also scared the shit out of me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Archer, I think I need to be alone right now. I need time to think.”
He hesitated like he wasn’t going to leave. I wasn’t sure if he knew what to do. Eventually, he started to walk out, then took one last look at me before he did. We both knew that it was the last time we’d ever see each other.