Page 8 of Written with Regret (The Regret Duet 1)
I blew out a ragged breath. I didn’t give a shit if it was some fucked-up extortion attempt. At that point, I’d have been downright gleeful if someone was trying to scam me for money.
I just couldn’t be a father. After the bastard I’d had for a dad, it was best for everyone that my genes were never passed down.CAVENFourteen years earlier…The little girl’s finger trembled beneath mine. I shouldn’t have gone to her. I was only putting her in more danger. But the damn kid wouldn’t stop moving. If he’d walked by and seen her, that maniac would have put a bullet in the back of her head without hesitation.
As far as I’d been able to tell from my vantage point, he was killing anyone he could find with a pulse. I couldn’t leave her there. She reminded me too much of myself as she lay on the floor, crying for her dead mother. I’d been there once, and I’d never forget her cold, lifeless body. It’d felt like I was going to die that day too, and there hadn’t even been a gunman running rampant.
I held my breath as his footsteps grew closer. He hadn’t made it deep enough into the food court to see us yet. Instead, he’d been staying close to the doors at the entrance. He’d eventually run out of victims up there, and when he did, I’d be the first to go. That little girl with the big, green eyes? Well…she’d be next.
I just needed a few more minutes. The police should have been there soon. If I could just get the two of us somewhere hidden to wait this out, we’d actually have a chance at making it out alive.
Another round of shots rang out and the kid jerked, a muted cry escaping as she shimmied over until she was flush with my side.
“Stop moving,” I hissed, sliding my arm over her shoulders, bending my elbow so it covered both of our faces. Only then did I pry an eye open.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks even with her eyes closed, and her lips were quivering as though she were fighting back a scream—a scream that would get us both killed.
As the deafening cracks continued to ring in the air, I did the best I could to keep her calm. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay,” I chanted softly. “Just be still. It’s almost over.” Those words were as much for me as they were for her. The only thing louder than the gunshots was my heart drumming against the floor.
Everything fell silent again. But this time, it was truly silent.
There were no more cries.
No more gasps.
No more moans.
There was no sign of life at all except for the little girl crying under my arm, her body trembling at my side as she waited for me to give her a count of three so I could guide her to safety.
A safety I wasn’t positive I’d be able to find for either of us.
But dammit, I was going to try.
I lifted my head up and looked around, barely catching sight of his back as he kicked a path through dead bodies. He was far enough away that he might not see us if we were quiet.
I looked back to the girl. She was on the verge of losing it. I had to get her out of there. Fast.
“It’s time,” I whispered.
Her green eyes flashed open, dread and second thoughts blazing within.
“We got this,” I lied, praying with my whole heart that it was true. “Kick your shoes off so they don’t make any noise.”
Her forehead wrinkled, but she followed my direction.
“On the count of three, run as fast as you can, but don’t make a sound. Got it?”
She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. I wasn’t positive she was really with me at all. If I ran and she didn’t follow, there would be no turning back for her. If she hesitated, even the slightest bit, I’d have no choice but to leave her behind.
We had one chance to get to that pizza shop and then out the back door. I had to make the most of it, and I hoped like hell I could make the most of it for her too.
Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I sucked in a deep breath and sent up one last silent prayer, but it wasn’t to a god at all. It was to my mom.
And then, on an exhale, I whispered, “One, two, three… Go.”CAVENHope turned to sludge in my veins in the span of three hours.
The cops had tracked down Marina Chapen—a known working girl in the area. She told the cops that a redheaded woman had given her the baby and paid her to deliver it to my apartment. She was supposed to hand the baby to me directly, but she’d panicked when she heard all the commotion inside my apartment. Apparently, fifty bucks was the going rate to have someone drop a baby on a doorstep. A real bargain considering that Marina was now facing child endangerment charges and I was waiting on my eight-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyer to meet me at the police station.
