Wrong Kind of Love

And I see it right there, the worry. He’s worried about the girl who knocked his ass out, the girl who could possibly be working with Tom. And so am I. I clasp my hands behind my head and pace the pine-strewn walkway, my mind lost in a rolling vortex of scenarios, none of which end well for her.

“No,” he says. “There’s no way she’s working with Tom.”

“And since when did you become J. Edgar-fucking-Hoover, Caleb?” I turn to face him, and his expression hardens.

“I’ve been stuck in a room with her for three days. She’s just a girl, Jude.”

I want to believe that, but with shit like this, I can’t take a chance. “You sure enough to bet our lives on it?”

His face reddens as he stares at me. Not even see-the-good-in-everyone Caleb can say he’s that sure because a wrong assumption will cost us both our lives.

6

Victoria

I’ve heard the expression “They looked like they were going to kill me,” but I could never put an expression to that phrase. Now I can. The clenched jaw and drawn fists, the rigid hold of Jude’s shoulders, and the billowing hate in his eyes moments ago conveyed murder, and it terrified me.

He told me not to try to escape, but what choice did I have? I’ve tried to be patient, to trust that Euan isn’t truly the awful person he’s proven to be, but today what little faith I had in my piece of shit ex—because he is definitely my ex now—finally snapped. Today is day three, and the lower the sun sank in the sky, I knew in my gut he isn’t going to pay, so I took my chances and ran. I barely made it to the tree line before that ogre caught me.

It’s Saturday night, which means I missed my Saturday morning call with my sister, Lizzy. I wonder how long it will be before she figures out something must have happened to me. Has Euan contacted her, pretending to be a doting boyfriend to cover his ass? Or did she call him, looking for me, and did he make up some lie, maybe that I’d gone out of town with friends for spring break. Hell, Rich probably went back and finished Euan off when he didn’t pay up. I tell myself, if he’s dead, it’s his own fault, and yet, I can’t shake the small knot of concern tightening my chest. He doesn’t deserve my concern. Why am I even thinking of these things when I’m locked in a room with no escape?

Heavy footsteps pad down the hall outside Caleb’s room, then stop. The lock clicks, and the door flies open, banging against the wall. The second Jude steps inside, my pulse picks up. Everything about his demeanor screams rage, from the set of his shoulders to the maniacal look in his eyes. He locks the door and slips the key into his pocket, and when he takes a step forward, I take a step back. Soon enough, my back hits the wall, and I have nowhere left to go

He goes for his gun as he crosses the room. In a heartbeat, he’s right in front of me, glaring down like I’m his most hated enemy. The panic and helplessness that comes with that knowledge cripple me. He presses the cold barrel of the gun beneath my chin and tilts my head up.

Adrenaline floods my veins, begging me to run or fight, do something to save myself, but instead, I close my eyes, not wanting to look him in the eye when he puts a bullet in my head. Agonizing seconds tick by, and by the time I do open my eyes, all rational thoughts must have fallen to the background because all I can notice are the tiny flecks of blue embedded in the green of his eyes. Why in the hell am I noticing how pretty the eyes of my soon-to-be killer are? I wonder if it’s some screwed-up kind of acceptance. Like my brain knows we’re past survival instincts and is looking for a distraction from the inevitable, a sliver of beauty before I die.

“Do not fucking lie to me, Victoria.”

The barrel twists and sickness churns in my gut as I note that he’s aiming for the base of my brain. At least he seems skilled at killing, which means it should be quick. Small mercies. “Why the hell are you here?” Something troubled passes through those beautiful, deadly eyes. But the resolve there never wavers. This man is going to kill me. No hope. No escape. Just him and me and a bullet.

Fear grips me so hard; it’s all I can do to remain standing, to keep breathing.

“You’re guy took me.” My voice breaks, tears stinging my eyes. “For a debt that isn’t even my own.”