Mr. E’s semi-auto clicked, a jarringly quiet sound. Josh stopped breathing. It clicked? The pistol jammed? It misfired! OhGodOhGod, thank you, God.
Liv swung her arm, knocking the barrel from her neck, and Josh trained the .22’s sights on the mask. He squeezed the trigger as Mr. E jerked his hand to readjust his aim. Both guns fired.
The double boom pierced his ears. He choked on his terror as Liv’s eyes widened, her hand cupped around her neck. No, no, no. She couldn’t be hit. He bit his tongue, tasted blood, and forced his attention on the threat.
Mr. E’s pistol dropped. Red spouted from a hole in his canvas-wrapped neck, and he collapsed beside her. Josh had aimed true.
He scrambled toward them, his pulse thrumming in his throat. “Liv? Are you hurt?” He kicked Mr. E’s pistol, skidding it across the room, and pulled her hand from her neck.
Milky, unblemished skin stretched against the delicate lines of her throat. She glanced at the ceiling, and he followed her gaze. The bullet hole marring the sheetrock sank a surge of relief deep into his lungs. His eyes ached with the aftermath of jumbling emotion, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her.
The masked head twitched on the floor. Josh clenched his fist, vibrating with the need to take away the last of the man’s power. He found the ties on the back of the canvas hood and yanked it off.
Silver striped through thinning black hair. Bags of wrinkles hung from pain-filled eyes. The older version of the man in the news articles worked his jaw, unable to drag in a breath.
She leaned over the police chief, her nostrils flaring. “Van flew to the Keys and tried to save my mom.”
His eyes flashed, and his head rocked side-to-side.
“That’s right, cocksucker. And he came back to kill you.” Her voice strained with tears.
Kneeling beside her, Josh uncurled her fingers from Mr. E’s jumpsuit.
The man’s jaw opened and closed soundlessly, red trickling from the corner of his mouth. From the neck down, his body lay limp. Maybe the bullet damaged his spinal cord. He was definitely choking on his own blood.
“I went to your house and found Livana.” She grabbed his bobbing chin. “When your pretty blond wife returns from the station, I’m going to show her all the things you taught me to do. Then I’m going to kill her.”
Josh probably should’ve been bothered by her taunting a dying man, but his righteousness was buried beneath the huge freaking desire to crush the bastard’s skull with his fist.
A gurgle of blood bubbled from Mr. E’s mouth, followed by a strangled sigh. His face slackened, and his head fell to the side.
She checked the pulse in his neck. Josh pulled back the edge of a black glove and felt for a pulse on the wrist.
With her face only a few inches from his, he could feel her tension releasing with the slowing of her movements. He waited for her to glance up. When their eyes collided, a surreal moment hovered between them, fueled by their unified breaths. It was over. He leaned in, touched his lips to her trembling ones.
Her face crumpled. “I wanted him to die in a horrible way. This…” Her voice scratched. “This was too merciful.”
His heart fractured for all the torment Mr. E caused her. He spoke against her quivering chin. “He’ll be judged and spend eternity suffering for his sins.”
She shifted, staring at the body, her eyes welling, blinking. A quiver rippled across her lips. She turned toward him and coiled her arms around his neck, her lungs hauling tearful gulps of air. “It’s done, Josh.” She cried, quietly, her cheek against his. “I’m so sorry you had to be the one to kill—”
“Don’t, Liv.” He cupped her face. “I’m not sorry, and you won’t be either.”
“Okay,” she whispered, nodded. “Livana…” She pressed her face in his neck, her fingers clenched in his hair. “She’s free.”
And so was Liv. Free of fear. Free to live. Free with him.
As he held her, wiping away the streaks of tears on her face, he let fifteen days of tension twist free of his body, muscle by muscle, exhale after exhale. He waited for the guilt, for the darkness, for some indication to show him the wrongfulness of his path, but all he felt was liberation breathing through this passionate woman and the salvation that kept her heart beating.
God’s will led him to that house, but it was love that bound him within its walls. He was born with choices and would die with his decisions. Looking down into her huge brown eyes, her emotions so raw and beautifully exposed, he knew she was the most important decision he’d ever made.
He scooted to the mattress with her curled in his lap, snagged her phone, and dialed. Pressing a kiss to her salty lips, he lifted the phone to his ear.
“Bell County 911. What is your emergency?”
“This is Joshua Carter. I just killed the man who abducted me.”
Chapter 42
Ten hours later, Liv shuffled out of the interrogation room in the Temple police station, her boots scuffing along the stained carpet squares, the arches of her feet igniting pain with each step. Damned heels.
The highlights of the detectives’ examination swished through her weary brain. We believe Eli Eary acted alone in his crimes. Killing him in self-defense is permitted by the law. Your actions are not legally punishable. No actus reus. You and Mr. Carter are free to go.
The investigation was far from over, but for now, they were free. She and Josh had been separated the moment the driveway flooded in blue and red flashing lights. They were transported to the station in handcuffs, separately. They were questioned for hours, separately.
She stepped into the corridor, searching the unfamiliar faces for pale green eyes and came up empty.
No one followed her as she walked, but detectives and uniformed men stopped mid-conversation to watch her pass. Fuck them. She tugged down the short hem of her dress, feeling awkward and really fucking exposed.
She hugged her mid-section, dropped her arms, crossed her arms again. This feeling…this insecurity was so foreign. The last time she lived in a free world, she was just a kid. But in her twenty-four years, she’d never been unsupervised, never went anywhere without checking in with someone…Mom, Mr. E, Van.
As she passed offices and holding rooms, looking for Josh, she felt lost. She needed his hand on her hip, his fingers laced through hers, his eyes studying her with his bold affection. She missed him with every dry, achy breath.
Turning the corner, she entered a long hallway, anxious to see how he was doing after all the questioning. Their carefully crafted story to the police painted Eli Eary as a sadistic slave owner, not a slave trafficker. They claimed he acted alone when he abducted and imprisoned them. The detectives were overwhelmed with the discovery of the allegedly-murdered Austin girl from seven years ago and the nationally-mourned linebacker from Baylor.
She and Josh had agreed to omit the existence of other slaves, the dead buyers, and Van. Too much murder, way too many complications. In their story, Eli Eary used her and Josh—his only two slaves—for his sexual, sadistic pleasures. No one knew she abducted Josh. And no one mentioned Mr. E having a son.
Her longer captivity was more complicated. To expose her connection to Livana, she accused an unknown man of raping and impregnating her a few weeks after her abduction. Eli Eary threatened the child’s life as a way to control her. She was allowed limited errands outside of the house but lived in constant fear for her child. When she’d revealed that truth to the room of detectives, her painful tears fomented the story. The seven-year-old scar on her face might’ve garnered some sympathetic votes as well.