Page 50 of Resolve
Once I’m on my back, Creighton straddles me, tossing my arm away and squeezing my neck instead, cutting off my air. But he’s not sucking my strength anymore. “I think I know what I’ll do with you now. I’m going to leave you with just enough strength to believe you can fight back, although it won’t be enough to actually hurt me. Let you struggle a little, ya know? Because I’m going to fuck you in front of them. It’ll make the fight with them later that much sweeter when they have something to avenge. And I think the president willbe happy if I deliver you in rough shape instead of just dead.”
“Don’t you fucking dare! I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit!” Kellan roars over the clanging of metal.
“Raegan! Fuck! Creighton, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want. Leave her alone, and we can talk.” Aiden’s smooth cadence cracks.
Jackson’s trying to pick the lock, his face ashen. How much blood has he lost? We need to get him to a healer.
I drag my tired hand over cold concrete. It’s like moving a bar of pure lead. It takes all my remaining strength and concentration to bring my hand to my side, under my shirt, and to the band of my bra.
Black spots speckle my vision, and I mouth something to Creighton.
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”
I move my lips again, air barely passing through them until he loosens his grip and leans closer.
I grip the knife Jackson had slipped me earlier and shove it through his throat, using his forward motion and whatever strength I have left to do this one act. Thankfully, Jack keeps his blades honed to perfection, so even with my minimally available effort, it slides into him with ease. His fingers dig into my neck, choking me as he gurgles on his own blood. As we both fight to survive.
His grip finally loosens. I force my head to the side to gasp for air through the layer of blood.
“Fuck, beautiful! You did so good! Tell me you’re okay. Talk to me.”
“Hurry up, Jackson. I don’t think she can breathe,” Aiden presses, urgency sharpening his tone.
“Where did he put the key? This lock isn’t the usual kind,” Jackson grunts.
I don’t move. I’m still catching my breath. Still feeling weak and filled with bags of sand, that the very idea of trying to push this body off me sounds exhausting.
“Raegan. Say something. Give us a sign you’re okay, beautiful. I’m losing my mind over here.”
I stretch my hand open. Then close it.
Huh. That wasn’t so bad. I do it again. Then raise my forearm.
My strength’s returning.
I offer them a thumbs up. I’m not ready to talk until after I wipe this bastard’s blood off my face.
“We may not have much time before others come to see what’s taken so long. I know you must be exhausted, but we have to keep moving. See if you can find his key and give it to Jackson. We’ll take the rest from there.” Aiden’s voice is pure velvet. I’d really love to fall asleep to it right now.
But he needs me to do something.
Key.
Right.
I push at Creighton’s body and try to roll myself at the same time. Let gravity finish the job of getting him off me. He slides to the floor, and I take a deeper breath through parted lips. The overwhelming scent and taste of copper chokes my lungs, and I hack and spit. It doesn’t help that my shirt is soaked in his blood. And my face and hair.
“Here.” Something soft smacks me in the face. “Wipe the blood off.” I do as Kellan instructs, clearing the blood from my face and neck as much as I can with his shirt. Even squeezing chunks of hairuntil I think I’ve gotten what I can until I’m under a hot shower.
Now that I can see and talk again, I begin searching for the key, starting with his vest pockets. Velcro scratches open as I dig my fingers into each one, hurrying to the next one and then just feeling the outside for a key outline. My strength is gradually returning to me, which is a huge fucking relief for me and the others. I dip into one of his cargo pants pockets, pinching something hard and narrow. “I think I f—”
The words die on my lips when the door opens, and Charles walks in.
I grasp the metal object and slowly retract my hand to my lap, trying to avoid his attention as he surveys the room. Two armed agents position themselves behind him. Creighton’s gun is closest to me, but it’s re-holstered and will waste precious time and sound getting it free. Stephens’s gun is on the floor, maybe six feet from me. If I get a foot under me and jump, I could make it. The safety’s off. I just have to grab it, point, and shoot.
And then what, Raegan? He’ll heal.
Fuck.
