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He looks at me, and I see a flash of panic in his eyes, then I hear her.
Belle.
I can’t see her, but I hear her screaming, and I don’t wait a minute longer. I run across the tarmac to the plane, where Richard is standing on the stairs. He sees me coming and runs inside. Not even man enough to meet me halfway, useless prick. I wish I had punched him in Hancock when I had the chance.
I enter his private plane, my jeans and t-shirt soaked through from the rain. I stop short inside the cabin at the top of the stairs, and right before my eyes is Dickhead Douche. He is standing toward the back of the plane, Belle positioned in front of his chest like a shield, and he is pointing a gun at her temple.
“You’re fresh out of luck, my friend,” Richard says, but I am not looking at him, my eyes are on Belle. I roam over her body, trying to assess her injuries. She is bleeding from her eye, which makes me fucking furious, and my jaw clenches. I am going to kill this guy. She is bruised on her arms, with a few scratches to her face, but what nearly kills me are the marks on her neck. Red, purple bruises are on her neck, indicating that she was held tightly in that area. My nostrils flare, I am literally at breaking point.
“She is mine, she always was. But since she rejected my proposal and made a fool out of me in front of the whole of D.C. society, I decided to at least make some money from her. It is amazing what rich, Russian men will pay for a woman like Isabelle. My friends knew just the right people to call to arrange it. Now get off my fucking plane, so I can take her to Russia where she now belongs!”
My hands are in tight fists by my sides, and I glare at him. Sell her?! He is planning to sell her. I will die before I ever let that happen. I will die on this plane if it means ensuring that Belle doesn’t leave this tarmac.
While Dickhead Douche and I are at a standoff, Belle begins to giggle. It shakes us both out of our intense standoff. He tightens his grip on her and pushes the gun to her temple. I see blood oozing from her cut, and I am murderous, but it prompts Belle to absolutely lose control, and big belly laughs come from her. I look at her like she has lost her mind. This is not like Belle at all; she is tough, she can’t be losing it like this. She is a fighter. But the way she is acting, I am sure she is going to be a blubbering mess in a matter of seconds. I have seen it before, the laughter dies down after the shock wears off and then it turns to tears. The situation deteriorates quickly after that.
Calming her laughs a little, she looks right at me with steel determination in her gaze, and I know she has it together. “Babe, where have you been? I thought you would never get here!” she says, looking relaxed and comfortable even though Richard is holding a gun to her temple.
I look at her, and her eyes are encouraging me to play along, so I do.
“This weather, baby girl. Sorry, got here as soon as I could,” I reply to her, wondering what the fuck is going on.
“Well, Richard, as nice as your hospitality has been, Jake and I really need to go now.” She starts to try and move away from him and toward me.
I still have no idea what she is doing, but I trust her, so I go along with it. I take a small step toward her and stretch out my arm, hoping to grab hers and pull her to me. But Richard isn’t having it.
He pulls her into him tighter, and I hear the safety of the gun click off, making my breath catch. But Belle doesn’t miss a beat. She promptly puts her hands on her hips and straightens her spine, while Richard looks like a madman, shaking and grabbing her closer to him.
“Oh, Richard, just do it already. You have been standing there in this macho stance for too long. Pull the goddamn trigger!” she yells, and I can’t believe my ears. What is she doing, trying to call his bluff? Richard may be a douche, but he is also mentally unstable.
“Belle,” I say, but she cuts me off.
“Do it, Richard, pull the trigger! Do it!!” she yells, and now I am wondering if she is insane as well.
“Belle, stop!” I yell, and I take another step forward, wanting to diffuse the situation, but as I do, everything happens in slow motion.
In her heels, she plants her foot onto Richard’s, and at the same time, she lifts her elbow to his chin with force, causing his head to whiplash back. Simultaneously, her arm comes around and disarms the gun, which falls to the floor.
It is nearly the same move she did to me in Hancock, which dropped me to the ground, when I took her by surprise, chopping wood. But this move is a little more complicated and choreographed. It is like poetry in motion. She looks like a fucking warrior princess.
Clearly, Richard has no idea of Belle’s strength or self-defense skills, because she took him totally by surprise, and he drops to the floor of the plane, disarmed and clutching his face in pain.
I don’t wait a second longer. I storm toward him, and Belle ducks into one of the airplane seats as I grab Richard and let loose. My rage comes out in all its glory, and I punch him over and over until I feel Marco behind me, pulling me away from Richard, in a move not dissimilar to what I did to Stephen only moments ago.
I stand, my eyes not leaving him. Richard is unconscious, bloody, and nearly unrecognizable, but lucky for him, still breathing.
I hear sirens in the distance, which breaks my rage, and I immediately look for Belle, who, like the kickass queen she is, is standing right beside me.
She looks exhausted and most certainly needs to see a paramedic. Her eyes meet mine, and I turn to face her. I grab her, eager to touch her, to make sure she is okay, then I pull her body to mine and kiss the ever loving fuck out of her.
Marco, Belle, and I stand in shocked silence as federal agents storm onto the plane. As we descend the stairs and step onto the tarmac, they attempt to take us all away individually, but the paramedic takes Belle, and I am not leaving her side, not even for a moment.
Not ever again.
38
Isabelle
I am in shock.
