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Forty-Two
Sarah pressed herself deeper into the wall behind her, her breaths exploding and her already chilled skin prickling into goosebumps all over. She’d heard the bang. A gun. Followed by a male scream. Now, the fear of being left in this freezer faded, and a wilder terror took over.
She squeezed her hand over her mouth, stifling another sob, doing all she could to remain silent. Undiscovered. To listen. To remain forgotten. All while her every regret played on her mind.
Why had she used her mother’s breakdown as an excuse not to get on with her own life? She’d stepped right into her mom’s empty shoes. Seen so little of the world. Kept people at arm’s length. Made them jump through so many hoops just to get to know her, installed so many obstacles that most gave up. Except Dean hadn’t.
What a fucking mess.
She held her breath and listened closer to the two voices outside the freezer. Despite all instincts to run, because there was nowhere to run, she stepped back and stood her ground, attempting one final chance at freedom.
If the nut-jobs out there want to shoot, I won’t make murdering me easy.
The freezer creaked, a low suction noise breaking through as the door shifted just a fraction open. She didn’t wait for whoever tried to enter. No. She bolted full-pelt toward the door and slammed her weight into the heavy metal—that heavy metal swinging hard into whoever stood outside.
A torrent of swears filled the air, but she ignored everything and focused on slipping past. She kept her head down, didn’t see anyone or anything but the open back door across the kitchen, offering escape. She barreled toward it, only for a large hand to lash out across her waist and halt her exit.
She grunted and kicked, her heel hitting a man’s shins while his scent of leather and spice assaulted her senses.
“Ouch.” He swung her around and sent her back into the freezer. “Calm down already.”
Not the freezer again. Her voice broke on an unplanned cry, and she flicked her chin higher, determined to stare down her would-be murderer before she died.
“You?” She stumbled back, almost tripping. “You did this?”
Her cheeks trembled, and hot tears gushed down her face. Dean stood before her, gun in hand, her former lover blocking her escape. She’d loved him. Hadn’t she loved him?
Her shoulders rolled forward and a sense of defeat engulfed her. How had it come to this?
There’s no hate greater than a lover scorned…
But he’d lied to her. Lived his double life.
So maybe Dean, her captor, had been this gun-carrying monster all along.
“Please.” She held a hand out, her attention falling to the gun while the angry stage of her grief bled into bargaining. “Please don’t.”
His heavy brow dragged even lower, a cross-hatch of lines forming in the middle. Rage or confusion? Her legs didn’t wait to find out, folding and introducing her knees to the floor as she fell to a pleading position before him.
His cheeks turned slack, and his gaze trekked down to the gun in his hand, his attention soon flicking back to her. “Sarah, get up.”
He crouched to the ground and laid the gun down, pushing it away so it slid far from easy reach. Meanwhile, her mouth slid open and her muscles softened, less high-alert, more bone-tired from adrenaline.
He held an outstretched hand to her and his fingers shook, his pupils wide, like her trusting him now actually meant something.
“No.” She shook her head, her focus lifting to the blood over his chin. Oh, that’s right, she’d smacked him in the face with the freezer door. Well, good! She had no idea what was happening here, but she knew she hadn’t inflicted a fraction of the pain he had on her. “You’re the reason I’m in here.”
She stood, rejecting his help.
“Sarah.” Her name was a raspy whisper from his lips, and now she was the one standing over him.
But she refused to even look his way, so she brushed past him and stormed out of the claustrophobic freezer, into the kitchen’s blinding brightness, and toward the back door with its fresh night air and freedom.
On her way past, she snatched her wool coat from a nearby wall hook and jammed it on, her legs picking up pace and taking her outside, past the back steps, and through the long stretch of grass leading to the parking lot.
She greedily gulped at the fresh air. For so long, she figured she’d never see the stars or even Harlow again. Tears fell and new panic set in. A woman who could taste freedom but wasn’t there yet.
I never used to cry. I never used to cry. Not until him…
