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“Yeah, I get it. But I kind of locked my girl in a closet upstairs when we saw him coming. You mind if I go let her out?”
The officer looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
I rub a hand over my face, trying to shut out the pain in my leg. I pull the keys out of my pocket and shake them at him with a grimace. “She’s gonna make me pay for every minute I leave her in there. So maybe you can take care of him, and we’ll wait for you in the Berkner and Associates office up on the fifth floor?”
He blinks at me for a second. I have to fight back the urge to snap at him, but finally, mercifully, he nods. “You have an ID?”
“Yeah,” I dig my wallet out of my back pocket and toss him the whole thing. “Cool, thanks, man. Fifth floor.”
I turn and limp back to the stairwell. My knee is throbbing by the time I make it back upstairs. The receptionist’s desk is empty and there’s no one in the conference room, but the door is still shut and locked. I’m guessing Julia’s still in the closet and I’d bet good money that she’s spitting mad.
25
Julia
Mateo moves swiftly, both hands gripping my biceps as he pushes me into a supply closet. Before I can even react or ask him what he’s doing, he’s shoved his phone in my hands and shut the door with a terse, “Get down and call 911.”
I try the door handle but as I do; I hear the lock turn from the outside and realize he’s locked me in the Goddamn closet. Even as I bang my palm against the door, I know he’s not going to let me out.
“This is overkill, asshole!”
“Yep, love you babe!” His voice is muffled through the wood, fading out as he moves away. It’s pitch dark in the closet. I’m clutching his phone against my stomach with both hands. I try to press the power button to turn the screen on, but my hands are shaking and I drop it.
“Dammit,” I mutter, feeling around the floor and finding it next to my foot. I press the power button frantically until the emergency mode kicks on and it connects me to the dispatch.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a woman with a southern accent asks.
I give her the address and try to explain the situation but I’m doing an abysmal job. “A man crashed his car into the courtyard. He was coming inside, he may be dangerous.”
“Stay with me, I’m sending officers to your location….” I can hear clicking in the background and her muffled voice as she relays the information I gave her. After a minute, she returns her attention to me.
“What’s your name? Where are you right now?”
“Julia Donovan. I’m… locked in a supply closet.”
“You’re where?”
“My boyfriend locked me in the closet to keep me safe. I’m going to kill him.”
“That’s actually the perfect place for you to be right now. Just stay on the line. Do you know where he went?”
“Well, I’m assuming he’s about to go all SEAL Team Six downstairs.”
“Is your boyfriend a danger to you or others?”
“God, no,” I chuckle softly. “But he is ex-military, so I’m guessing he’ll have Grimaldi tied up with his own shoe laces by the time officers actually get here.”
Her voice is muffled as she repeats that there may be a civilian with military training interceding.
It’s dark and the only light I have is the phone, which I don’t dare mess around with to get the flashlight open. With my luck, I’ll accidentally hang up. I feel around, looking for something to use as a weapon if I need it. My hand closes around a long, smooth wood stick. A broom.Perfect.
“Officers are on the scene,” she says. I like that she’s trying to keep me calm; every word out of her mouth is slow and reassuring. “You still with me, Julia?”
“Yup,” I say quietly, tucking the phone into my bra and taking a practice swing with the broom handle. There’s not enough space in here to get much momentum. This is going to be useless. Leaning it against the wall at an angle, I bring my foot down on it hard. Hard enough to crack it in the middle, leaving me with two jagged, splintery ends. This is perfect.
I hear footsteps outside the door and grip one of the pieces in my hands like a baseball bat.
“Someone is coming,” I whisper to the dispatcher, my breath coming in shallow, borderline panicked little huffs. “I swear to God, this better be Mateo coming to let me out and he better be ready to beg for forgiveness,” I whisper into the dark.
