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“Hey, rich boy!”
Beckett paused and glanced over, before stilling completely. I didn’t need to check to know. There was a gun pressed to my head by one of the guys who’d found us in the bathroom.
It was an odd feeling, to be facing death.
I had so many regrets. I regretted worrying so much about the future and money. I regretted caring so much what other people thought and trying to keep up with those who lived in a different world than me. I regretted letting my brother protect me to the point where I’d never been kissed until tonight.
I didn’t regret what had happened in the bathroom with the asshole currently glaring at the men around him, promising them bloody murder with his dark eyes. If it had been a fair fight, I’d bet on Beckett every time. He was a vicious hockey player and a hell of a defenseman. He could have taken all four, I was sure of it.
But it was far from fair. He had tried to protect me. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest at that knowledge. It was so unexpected, I had no idea how to react to it.
Jax was pinching his nose, and now he chuckled. “You stupid motherfucker.” He stared at one of his friends. “Give me the knife.”
“What? No!” I started forward, but the gun at my temple stopped me.
“Stay out of this, Cinderella,” Beckett warned, his eyes on Jax as he approached.
Jax was eyeing Beckett with interest. “You want to fight me, rich boy?”
“Sure. Put the guns away and I’ll fight you, and then him…I’ll take you all on.” Somehow, Beckett still sounded as arrogant as ever.
Jax pretended to consider it a moment and then laughed. “Nah, no deal.”
He lashed out toward me, and Beckett ducked forward. I screamed and covered my face, but nothing connected. Beckett’s body was blocking me, pushing me back, and the guy behind me was swearing, the gun lowered. I couldn’t see what the hell was going on.
“Police! Nobody move!” a loud voice called, and the sound of shattering glass filled the air.
Everything happened all at once. Finally, the police had come. The hostages were screaming and crying, the gunmen fleeing, and Beckett was still standing right in front of me. I tugged at his arm.
“He’s gone. The guy who had the gun on me is gone!” I stepped around him, suddenly realizing that he might have been hurt. “Did he get you with the knife?”
I patted his stomach and ran my gaze over his chest. There was nothing I could see. I glanced up at his face and froze.
Beckett was staring at the police swarming into the building, his eyes dazed. Blood dropped from his chin. Down the left side of his face was a long, jagged cut. I let out a cry, I couldn’t help it.
“Oh my God! We need help over here! He’s been cut!” I screamed at the police. “We need medical help!”
I turned back to Beckett, who was still dazed. “Can you hear me – Beckett – can you look at me?”
Slowly his eyes turned, latching onto mine. The sight of so much blood on his face was traumatizing, and I knew I’d be seeing it in my nightmares. He swayed against me. The cut was wicked and ugly, and dark blood welled from it, running faster and faster.
“Beckett?”
His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, it was just me and him again.
The jealous girl and the lonely boy.
Then hands were pulling me back. “Miss, step away so we can treat him, please.”
Paramedics stepped between us, ushering Beckett away. A space blanket went around my shoulders, and a female paramedic snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Miss, can you hear me? Hello?”
I stared at her, slowly returning to reality. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”
“You have a lot of blood on you.”
I gazed down, and my heart clenched. Beckett’s blood was all over my hands and arms. “It’s not mine. None of its mine,” I said numbly.
