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I can’t lose him.
The white button-down is saturating with blood fast. And he needs to sit and put more pressure on the wound.
Slowly, Akara sinks down on the stair.
“We’ll be back for you,” I promise.
“Get her out of here,” Akara chokes. “Don’t come back.”
I have no time to argue. I just nod.
And I run. I run down ten more flights of stairs. Akara made the call to leave Sulli in the elevator—to help me. To be there for me.
And I’m leaving him to help her.
To be there for her.
Knowing he’s bleeding out while she’s alone and missing is ripping me straight in half. If I could be two places at once, I’d give my right side to him and my left to her—but I can’t.
I had to choose.
I can’t feel my feet by the time I reach the parking garage. I race to the elevators and I punch a button. The doors whoosh open like it just landed here. Empty.
The elevator is empty.
Panic and alarm blast off as I whirl around and around in circles. Looking for her. No sign of any red windbreaker. No cascade of dark hair.
No Sulli.
Fuckfuckfuck.
Someone got to her?
Someone grabbed her?
Someone took her?
The elevator could have stopped on a different level. That was a risk Akara must’ve been willing to take because the clear threats were the four men in front of us.
He should’ve chosen her. He should’ve left me out there alone.
I would’ve gone down four on one.
I would’ve been stabbed to hell and back.
She’d be safe. That’s all that fucking matters. Screw the rest. I whirl around.
And around.
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
I run a hand through my hair and jog halfway up the row of Teslas. I’m tempted to call out her name, but I don’t want to draw attention. A trendy fedora-wearing couple walk hand-in-hand through the parking garage. The sound of a beeping car lock goes off.
I pull out my phone.
“Banks?”
I spin around.
Seeing the candy-apple red windbreaker, long legs—Sulli slips out from behind a large blue garbage can where she’d been hiding, and I run to my girlfriend with all my might. She holds her arms around herself, her eyes bloodshot.
“Thank God,” I breathe and pull her into my arms, holding her tight.
She shudders and clings against me in more than just post-shock. “Your face…” I must be bleeding. Panic lights her eyes. “Akara—where’s Kits?” Her voice spikes. “Is he…?”
“We have to go.” I grab her hand, and with a racing pulse, we move out.
28
AKARA KITSUWON
I can’t do nothing. Just sitting here. Weakly and with searing heat along my waist, I use comms and alert SFO of the detained threat. Thatcher and Oscar are on their way. Just in case we need more backup.
I call in the assault to the authorities. Just in case GBA’s security didn’t listen to me. They’re not my men. They’re not even Triple Shield. I honestly have no fudging clue who they are or what they’re trained to do. They could be three floors up struggling to restrain the men we knocked out.
Somehow, I get out the words. Our location. The assailants. The danger. All over again.
It’s already been called in, I’m told.
When I hang up the phone, I’m not even thinking about the hours I’m going to have to spend detailing what happened to the cops. Or the paperwork my own firm is going to have on their hands.
I’m just thinking about her.
I imagine Banks pulling her to safety. I imagine his arms around her while she tucks herself to his chest, and it’s the only solace I have in this damn stairwell.
It’s the only peace I want to die inside.
Lightheaded, I rest my temple against the wall. And then I think, do I have enough strength in me to move? If I stand up on my own, will I pass out?
I want to try, but as soon as I bend my knees, stars dot my vision, and I almost black-out.
I stop.
I breathe.
And just when I’m about to succumb to the fact that I might die alone and forgotten—I hear footsteps. Ascending towards me.
“Kits!” she shouts.
Tears prick my eyes. Angry, happy tears—and as soon as she races into view and I see she’s okay, I glare at Banks, “I said get her out.”
“I couldn’t leave you.”
I have no reply because for once, I’m glad he didn’t listen to me.
He grabs my forearm and heaves me to my feet. Sulli pulls my other arm over her broad shoulders. They brace my weight.
And help me move.
Celebrity Crush – July 28th
Sullivan Meadows’ Bodyguard & Boyfriend, Akara Kitsuwon, Stabbed Protecting the Olympic Swimmer
We’ve just received news that Akara Kitsuwon & Banks Moretti were in an altercation with four unidentified men in the Haverford Hotel in L.A. The police were called to the scene after the incident, and all four men have been arrested. Sources say that the assailants were looking to stop Sullivan Meadows from competing in her upcoming Olympic events by attacking the swimmer. With a leg break? A stab wound? Celebrity Crush can’t verify their complete intentions, but boy, does this sound familiar. Echoes of the 1994 incident with ice skater Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan, anyone? (See article: Ice Skater Nancy Kerrigan Attacked!) Luckily, Sullivan Meadows’ bodyguards were there to protect her! While our Olympic star walked away unscathed, the same can’t be said for her boyfriends. Sources say that Akara Kitsuwon was stabbed, and Banks Moretti has minor injuries from the fight.
