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I’m not sure if it’s the smartest or stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Because the moment the sound of the paper ripping fills the otherwise quiet room, all hell breaks completely lose. I open my mouth to scream, but I’m pushed to the side and fall to the floor.
I decide it’s best if I stay there because the next thing I know, there are gun shots and men are shouting, and more men come in from the door we just walked through. Behind that door is a security room with cameras.
Chavez had five men sitting in there on the ready, in case something went down, and all five rush into the conference room shooting. My breathing is labored, and I curl into a ball, my eyes pinched tightly closed as chaos ensues all around me.
Chaos I created.
Then, as if something inside of me breaks free, I open my eyes and sit straight up. I need to get out of here. If Itch doesn’t survive, I won’t be taken by Chavez.
I refuse.
Crawling under the table, I take my life into my own hands and begin to move toward the conference room door that leads to the hallway, that will lead to the bank of elevators, and to the left of those elevators is a staircase that will take me down to the lobby.
With my mission in mind, I move. Smoke surrounds me, there are loud gunshots, my ears start ringing, and then I can’t hear anything at all, but I don’t care. As long as I can keep moving, that’s all that matters.
I find the door. It’s open, and I’m so close that I can almost touch it when and arm wraps around my waist. I open my mouth and scream, but I don’t know if I’m even screaming because I can’t hear anything. I’m forced to stand and turned around in a pair of arms.
My screaming stops at the sight of the man who is holding me.
Itch.
Kyle.
My husband.
He cups my cheeks in his hands, his eyes focused on mine, and his lips curve up into a grin. His thumbs wipe beneath my eyes, and I realize that I’m crying. He leans forward and touches his mouth to mine. He murmurs something against my lips, but I can’t hear shit.
Then, before I can even turn around to check on Chavez or any of his men, to ensure that they’re gone and I’m safe, Itch leans down, grips his fingers around the backs of my thighs, and picks me up.
My legs automatically wrap around his waist, and I bury my face against his neck. I don’t look around as he moves me through the building. I’m not sure what happened, or what’s happening, but I don’t care. All that matters right now is that I am in his arms.
The rest of the world could burn to the ground, and it wouldn’t mean a damn thing to me.
When the warm air touches my body, I lift my head from his throat and look around. We’re outside, but we aren’t at the front of the building; we’re at the side. He sets me down on my feet.
“My ears are ringing!” I shout.
He smiles and dips his chin behind him. Turning my head, I see his bike. “Am I free?” I ask.
Itch doesn’t verbally confirm anything. Probably knowing that I couldn’t hear him if he did. Instead, he touches his lips to the corner of mine before he takes a step backward. I watch as he turns and walks over to a group of men. I take them in. It’s everyone. They all survived. Legacy, Agony, Roadkill, and even Duke.
I don’t climb onto the back of the bike yet. In this dress, there is no way I could hide any part of myself from these men. And the fact that I’m not wearing underwear makes that even more uncomfortable.
The men all disperse, lifting their hands and giving a wave, then climb onto their bikes. Itch does the same, and only when he’s settled on his machine do I climb on behind him. Scooting close to him, I press myself against his back and my cheek against the warm leather of his cut.
Closing my eyes, I use the ride back to Casa Grande to just feel. The wind blows over me. It practically flows through me. I don’t know what I felt before this, when I thought I felt free, but I didn’t.
I do now.
Freedom flows throughout my entire body.
Squeezing my arms around him a little tighter, I stay close and just breathe. I’m exhausted, my adrenaline completely having left my body. I feel as if I could sleep for a whole lifetime, and I just might.
But right now, I just breathe.
Over and over.
In and out.
