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“Correction,” Cynthia seethes, “you come with me next time, or you can find someone else willing to assist you in document control. I’m done dealing with insults.”
Annoyed with all three of them, I open my mouth to give them a piece of my mind when movement outside in the main office area catches my attention. My eyes widen with what I’m witnessing.
Men in SWAT uniforms with FBI written in bold letters across their chest stalk our way. Chase and his tech team follow close behind. Trent trails after them, his demeanor grim.
I scramble to my feet when they crowd into the room. Cynthia backs up next to me near the exterior windows, while Candy and Punk get pushed against the other wall.
“Cynthia Higgins?” a man in uniform asks in a commanding voice.
“Y—yes,” she stammers.
“You’re under arrest for the embezzlement operation at P.L. Moore Financial. Place your hands in the air where we can see them.”
“WHAT?!” she squawks, taking an unsteady step back.
“Put your hands up where we can see them!” the officer barks louder, raising his gun at her.
She gapes, her mouth hanging open. “This is a mistake. It’s not me.” She looks at her boyfriend with beseeching eyes. “Trent, tell them it’s not me.”
He shakes his head regrettably. “Do as they say, Cynthia. Don’t make this any harder.”
Something like pain contorts her flawless face into one of pure rage. “Did you do this?” Cynthia accuses him. “Did you lead them right to me, Trent?”
“I have nothing to do with this,” he says sadly.
“I don’t believe you,” she rasps, her bottom lip quivering.
Distracted by everything happening around us, Cynthia catches me off guard when she reaches out, grabbing me by my hair. I scream as she tugs me to her side. I reach for her hands, trying to tear them from my hair. My fingers bite into the soft skin of her hands. It has no effect, other than making her hold on to me tighter.
Before I can find another way to break free of her hold, she has the barrel of a gun pressed against my temple.
Around the room, guns are drawn, everyone yelling at Cynthia to drop her weapon. Chase pushes himself to the front of the line, his gun trained on Cynthia.
“Cynthia, be smart about this. Put your weapon down and let go of Simone. She has nothing to do with this,” Chase tries to reason with her, his eyes swiveling between the two of us, assessing me while monitoring her.
“The fuck she doesn’t!” she yells, shoving the gun harder against my temple. A small whimper leaves my lips. My stomach rises to my throat as the gravity of my situation hits home.
She’s going to kill me.There’s not a doubt in my mind Cynthia will take me down with her.
Grief overwhelms my senses. I don’t want to die. There’s too much left for me to do.
I need to hug my parents and sister one last time. I need to kiss my cherubic nephews all over their pudgy faces. Before I say my last goodbye, I need to look at the mountains near my home.
But most importantly, I want to ride on the back of Chase’s hog with my arms spread wide at my sides, to feel like a bird flying in the wind. I want to marry my biker, give him babies, build a life and home with him. To wake up in his arms, day after day, and share everything this world offers with the man I love.
I want a lifetime with Chase—not a moment in time.
If it’s the last words I utter in this life, I need Chase to know exactly what I feel for him.
“Chase, I—”
“Don’t you worry, Numbers. I’m gonna get you out of this, I promise, baby.”
“Cynthia,” Trent begs helplessly, his eyes red-rimmed. “Stop, please.”
“Fuck you, Trent!” Cynthia screams through her tears. “Fuck you. I did this for us, but you couldn’t let this dumb bitch go. I wanted to give you the world. And all you wanted was her.”
She viciously tugs my hair. I cry out, unable to stop myself. Cynthia must enjoy my pain, yanking again for a repeat performance of my misery.
