The door of the ER room swings opens.
I’m spun around and pulled hard against Grayson’s chest. The press of the steel muzzle beneath my chin makes me shiver. The weapon forces my head high, and I do my best not to let fear register on my face.
“Drop the weapon—” the officer blocking the doorway shouts.
Grayson digs the barrel harder, holding me tight against him. “You probably have more to lose than me. Don’t be a hero for minimum wage, officer. I will kill this woman, then I will fire off shots until the clip is empty, taking out as many people as I can before I go down.” The cop holds his aim on Grayson. “Now, shut the door and lower your gun.”
After a tense beat, seconds stretching, the officer closes the room door. He keeps his weapon trained on Grayson for another few seconds before he discards it to the floor.
“Slide it over,” Grayson orders.
The cop does so reluctantly. “Backup will be here shortly,” he says, trying to reassure me.
Grayson nudges my back. “Strip the cop’s shoes,” he says.
I bite my lip as I kneel beside the unconscious officer and pull off his shoes. My gaze slides over the gun on the floor, butGrayson reaches it first and quickly confiscates it. He secures the officer to the bedrail with the handcuffs, then delivers a blow to his head with the weapon.
I curse, knowing that it’s now—right now. I have to escape. He’s completely unhinged.
I grunt as I stand, tweaking a nerve in my back. “Grayson, if you kill me, you’ll never get your revenge. You won’t get your rocks off destroying a dead person.”
He closes his hand around the nape of my neck and hauls me close enough his words brush across my lips. “Fuck, I wish you would’ve talked this dirty during our sessions.”
Anger floods my veins with a rush of adrenaline. I drive my knee toward his groin, but he’s ready, blocking me easily. He groans and fists his hand in my hair. Spotting a syringe on the tray, I lunge for it, ignoring the burn as I tear free from his grip.
I clutch the syringe with a shaky hand, the needle aimed at his neck. “I will shred your jugular before you squeeze that trigger, I swear to god.”
He watches me intently, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to suppress a smile. “And I know just how good you are at that, baby,” he says. “I’m looking forward to play time later, but right now—” his hand covers mine, forcing my arm back until I drop the syringe with a faint cry “—I just want you to relax.”
I drop heavy breaths between us. “Do it fast.”
“Goddamn, if you insist.” He grips my jaw, firmly guiding me back until I hit the wall. My pulse flares, a roar filling my ears as his eyes darken. Then his mouth captures mine, the kiss hard and punishing, stealing what’s left of my breath before he pulls away. A wicked gleam lights his blue gaze.
“What the hell?” I demand, covering my puffy lips.
Grayson sheds his dress shirt, leaving his white undershirt beneath, and quickly threads the officer’s belt around his waist.
I start to inch toward the door, and his gaze snags me. I stop.
“You think I want to kill you because you betrayed me incourt,” he says, snatching the officer’s radio and clipping it to his belt. “But that’s just your guilt. You’ve trained yourself to feel it, to blend.” He spits the word with disgust. “Let it go. It gets in your way. I would’ve done the same to you.”
He grabs my handbag and digs out my phone, popping the SIM card out and snapping it in half before tossing both to the floor. Then he drapes my bag over my shoulder.
“Do you need your glasses to see?”
I squint. “I have an astigmatism. So…yes and no.”
He removes my glasses carefully and slips them into my bag. He then turns me around, pressing my back against his chest, his forearm banding my waist. The cold barrel of the gun touches my head.
“Christ, Grayson, what the hell do you want from me?”
He pushes his mouth close to my ear. “Be a good little hostage and open the door.”
Through the rush of adrenaline, it suddenly clicks together, the last piece of the puzzle snaps into place. And I realize, with a sickening dread, I’m the last piece—what he needed to secure his freedom.
“You used me,” I accuse, hurt evident in my voice.
“To be fair, we used each other.” He nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply before he orders, “Now, open the fucking door, London.”
