Allison
I slam down against the window. My shoulder’s pinned, painfully digging into broken glass. My face is pressed against something cold and hard-the door, concrete, I can’t really tell-and Gregory’s still on top of me, still covering my body with his own. He weighs a thousand pounds. I’m dizzy and can’t tell which way is up.
I hear my name. “Allison. Hey, Allison, look at me.” Gregory’s dragging me up, shaking me slightly. Everything’s ringing and whining, and the light’s far too bright.
“Gregory,” I mumble. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” But am I okay? I don’t know what happened, why the whole car seems like it exploded, or why Gregory sounds angry.
“Hold on.” His arms wrap around me and he’s lifting me up, up, across the car-how are we moving up through the car?-until Sean’s pulling me from the opposite window.
Loud explosions break out all around us. Sean curses, and he drags me over the side of the car, landing in a heap on the parking lot.
It takes a beat to understand that the SUV is on its side, flipped so my door was pinned against the ground.
Gregory drops down beside us, a gun in his hand, as more explosions go off.
The explosions are bullets.
“Get her to safety,” Gregory commands, firing his gun over the top. “Get moving!”
The world restarts like I’ve come back online.
The scene focuses, almost too sharp. Gunfire rings out like rapid thunderclaps, like a storm so violent it’s going to rip the world to shreds. Gregory’s men near the restaurant get into cover behind big pillars and their SUVs, while Sean grabs my wrist and pulls me with him toward the SUV that had been parked behind us.
We sprint the very short gap between the two cars, and I spot trucks nearby, their windows facing us.
“Inside.” Sean yanks open a door and shoves me into it. From my vantage, I can see that another truck rammed the side of the SUV we’d just been in, flipping it over. I have blood on my clothes, on my hands, and I touch myself all over. There’s a cut on my forehead, and another in my scalp, but mostly I’m okay. I don’t think anything’s broken, which is lucky. Sean shoves me onto the floor. “Stay.”
I don’t listen.
I peek out the window and watch Gregory battling our attackers. Paul’s men, no doubt in my mind. So many bullets fly through the air, the molten-hot metal bursting against the SUV’s doors. It must be bulletproof because nothing gets through, though each direct hit sounds like a battering ram trying to break through. I swallow scream after scream as pure terror suffuses me.
One of Gregory’s men lies dead on the ground. An attacker hangs halfway out a window. There’s blood, and shouting, and gunshots. I can’t think, can barely breathe. Through it, I’m distinctly worried about Gregory, afraid that he won’t make it most of all.
After what feels like forever, the trucks suddenly peel out, and the attackers escape. Gregory’s men take a few more shots, but the explosive noise stops as quickly as it started, and I’m left with ringing ears and a pounding headache.
The next time I look up, Gregory’s in the car, and Sean’s up front behind the wheel.
“Get her home,” Gregory says, pulling me into his lap. “Let me look at you.”
“I’m fine. I’m okay. What happened?”
“Ambush. We’re lucky these SUVs are military-grade. Otherwise we would’ve been crushed in that ramming attempt.” He gently touches the cuts on my head. “You need a doctor.”
“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.” Cold realization spikes into my chest. He’s already making a phone call. Gregory will never let me around his business again, any bit of freedom I might’ve won by proving how helpful I can be just evaporated in a storm of bullets.
The doctor’s a thin middle-aged man that doesn’t ask any questions. He looks me over, makes sure I don’t have a concussion, and applies gauze to my cuts. “They don’t need stitches,” he says to Gregory as if I’m not in the room. “Head wounds tend to bleed, they’re very dramatic. I cleaned any excess glass out and she should be fine.”
“Thank you, doctor. You’re sure she’s okay? She’s pregnant and I want to make sure the baby’s not in danger.”
Something warm suffuses me. I like the way Gregory’s worried about the baby, even if he’s fussing a little too much. There’s a tenderness to his tone, a softness that I hadn’t seen from him until now.
“We can do some more tests to monitor the baby’s condition, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” The doctor frowns at me. “Do you have an OB?”
“Er, uh, not yet, uh-” I stammer, feeling foolish, but this baby thing only just happened and I’m barely past processing.
“She’s using my family doctor,” Gregory says. “I’ll provide her name.”
“All right.” The doctor closes his kit. “Keep the wounds clean. If you experience any lightheadedness, any dizziness, any spotting or bleeding, you reach out to my personal phone. Understood?”
“Thank you, doctor.” Gregory leads him from the room.
I’ve never felt like such a child before in my life, but it’s also kind of comforting. Gregory wants to take care of me. He’s looking out for my health in his own way, which I can appreciate, even if it’s not something I ever wanted.
I curl up on the couch in sweats, staring at the fireplace crackling away. When Gregory returns, he sits down at my feet, and takes them into his lap.
He says nothing at first, only begins to give me a foot rub. I watch him work, stare at his fingernails covered in dirt, at the stains on his clothes. Some of that might be blood. Some might even be his own. He hasn’t complained once, and didn’t even bother letting the doctor look him over, only insisted that I get checked out thoroughly.
“What happened?” I finally ask. “I mean, how did that happen? I’m still trying to piece it all together.”
“Paul,” he says, closing his eyes. “I don’t know if he was aware you’d be there or not, but I’m guessing he was gunning for both of us.”
“How?” I feel cold and empty. Gregory tried to warn me away, and I just had to get involved anyway.
“Jonny, most likely. I don’t know why Paul killed him, but I suppose it was to send a message. Do not take my calls. Do not speak with me.”
“Could it have been someone in your organization?” I ask, trying to find any alternate suggestions. If it really was Jonny, then I sort of got the old man killed. Though he’d deserve it since he betrayed us to Paul.
Gregory glances at me. I can tell the question bothers him. “I’m looking into that.”
I sigh, leaning my head against the padded armrest. “What a nightmare.”
“The police are all over this. My contacts in the PPD are livid. They’re out for blood. Which means we need to lie low for a while.”
“How aren’t they coming after Paul? He’s the one that started shooting. We were there trying to have a legitimate business meeting.”
“Paul is much more entrenched in this city than I am. While I have connections, he currently has more. They’re protecting him. For now, at least. I suspect that won’t last long if he keeps shooting in broad daylight.”
Frustration oozes through me. I wish I could do something, but I’m totally helpless, and there’s no way in hell Gregory’s ever going to let me get anywhere near the action anymore. So much for renovating and decorating his office.
“I didn’t do this,” I say, watching his reaction. “It’s not my fault. Right? It’s not my fault? I mean, I was just trying to set up a meeting with the guy. I didn’t want him to get killed. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
He gives me nothing. Only keeps rubbing my foot, which admittedly feels great.
“I know that,” he says after a long silence. “You couldn’t have predicted the way Jeffers would react.”
“Why would he even go to Paul in the first place?”
“Fear,” Gregory muses. “Everyone in this city’s terrified of Paul right now. They’ll be even worse once news of what happened to Jeffers gets out.”
“God, that’s so frustrating. Isn’t there something we can do?”
“Yes and no.” He considers, head tilted. “There’s always a limit.”
“Explain what you mean.”
“People will be afraid, and they’ll act out of fear and self-preservation, but only to a point. Eventually, they’ll get sick of being terrorized, and some might even fight back. I’m curious how close we are to that point. The men and women Paul’s been bullying aren’t gangsters and thugs-they’re regular people, not used to this kind of treatment.”
“You mean like, the industry rising up against him?”
“Something like that.” Gregory shrugs glancing at me. “It’s hard for me to judge.”
An idea strikes. I pull my foot away and sit up, leaning toward him. “I can talk to people.”
“Allison-”
“No, hear me out. I don’t need to leave the house to do it either. I can make phone calls, send emails, that sort of thing.”
He hesitates, considering. I can tell he’s not happy, but he nods slowly. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“But I need you to do something for me first.”
His expression softens. He seems genuinely delighted. “Now you’re starting to understand how the game’s played.”
I poke him in the ribs. “I’ve known since the start.”
“Okay then, wife of mine. What do you want?”
“I told you. I want revenge for Freya. I want to know what really happened to her, and before I start to lobby on your behalf, I need you to find the truth for me.”
Gregory considers that. I can tell he doesn’t like it. But eventually he grunts and nods again. “I’ll dig deeper, but it might end up that only Paul knows the truth.”
“I don’t think it’s only him.” I stand, pacing away. “I think my father knows more than he’s letting on.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The last time I saw him. Something was wrong. He seemed… nervous. Worse than usual. And every time I mention Paul in connection with Freya’s death, he’s so quick to defend the guy, as if he’s not the most obvious killer in the world.”
“I’ll speak with your father then.” Gregory stands and comes over to me. He puts his hands on my shoulder. I ache all over, my body bruised and battered from the truck ramming our SUV. “Come upstairs with me.”
“I’m not sure I can handle a spanking right now.”
“No, not that. You need a warm bath. Then you need to sleep.”
“And food?”
He kisses my neck. “And food. But tonight, you’re in my room. In my bed. I am going to keep a very close eye on you from now on. No more danger. No more foolishness.”
I close my eyes. I’m exhausted, worn down by the excitement of the day, and hurting like hell. Getting some much-needed pampering sounds incredibly good, even if it’s coming from Gregory.
“All right, fine.” I turn to face him. “But don’t get any ideas.”
“Too late for that.”
I try not to smile as I follow him upstairs.