Impossible Odds: Rescue Team Nine (Book 3)

Chapter 37

Cloey

I killed someone. Me. Cloey. The girl who wants to be a doctor, to save lives, not take them away. He was going to kill the man I love, I tell myself, the father of my child. That's not acceptable. I couldn't let that happen. I should have let Bear take him out. He was already aiming when I pulled the trigger, but something inside me snapped. Selfishly, I wanted to see him dead. Does that make me sadistic? I can't do anything but stand there and stare at the body sprawled on the floor. My mind goes numb, and what I see doesn't seem to want to register. Is this what shock feels like? I'm a medical resident. I should know that, but my brain seems to have shut down. Benjamin's eyes are open, and they seem to be staring an accusation right at me. The moment ironically makes me remember a lesson in my high school Lit class of The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe. I've never been a fan, but I'm now sympathizing with the man who could hear the heart pumping from under the floor. I hear it, too, or is that my own heart?

Trembling, I almost drop the gun I'm holding when a pair of arms grabs me from behind. Pulling me to him, Dice murmurs some reassuring words, but I don't hear them. My concentration can't seem to be swayed away from the dead man. I did that. I took the life out of him. I've seen death before. It's not a new sight, but my brain can't comprehend that I'm why Benjamin Easton is lying in that puddle of blood.

"I was ready to take him out, but she pulled the trigger before I had a chance. I'm sorry, man."

Bear's voice sounds far away. Why does it sound so far away?

"Cloey?" Dice speaks softly.

"No." Shaking my head, I squirm my way out of his grip.

"It's going to be okay."

I look at him then. I don't try to hide the tears streaming down my cheeks. His shirt is ripped from fighting, and stains mar the collar where it's caught blood from the wound on his neck. Through the tears, I laugh. The sound of it echoes off the walls, and I know I look and sound hysterical. No one moves. Even the girl in Striker's arms stays quiet.

"It's not okay. This is not okay. I just killed someone, Dice. How is that okay?"

He doesn't move, and I know why. He's scared, scared that any movement might cause my nervous breakdown to escalate further.

"And you know what's worse?" I don't wait for an acknowledgment. "It's the relief coursing through my veins knowing he's gone and that I pulled the trigger! It's the joy I'm feeling at seeing him lying on the ground. How sick is that? He was going to kill you, and I'm so damn in love with you I couldn't stand the thought of living without you. That's all I kept thinking when I pulled that fucking trigger."

He doesn't wait for me after that confession. Before I know what's happening, he has me in his arms.

"Are you sure it was just target practice you were taught, Henderson?"

"Shut up, Gunner," Dice and I shout simultaneously while Wildcat slaps him on the back of the head.

Picking me up, Dice walks out of the building. The last thing I remember is hearing an argument between Wildcat and Gunner before closing my eyes and allowing my emotions to run free. It's been too long since I've allowed myself to fall apart, but in Dice's arms, I let go—all of it. The night air hitting my wet cheeks causes me to shiver. He holds me closer. Somehow, he manages to get the door to his truck open. Tucking me inside, he climbs in the driver's seat, puts the key in the ignition, and cranks it up. He sits there for a minute without moving. I know he's waiting for me. He needs reassurance that I'm okay. The heater doesn't take long to warm the interior, but I don't seem to notice. My world has changed again. "Shouldn't we be staying? Cops and all that?"

"The team has it." He doesn't explain more than that, and I don't push. Putting the truck in drive, he pulls out onto the road. Houses fly by as we pass them. Some of them are dark, alerting me to their vacancy or the fact that the ones inside have already turned in for the night. Others are illuminated by light, and I glimpse the people inside. It makes me wonder what our baby girl is doing right now. She'll most likely be tucked in bed, dreaming of being a princess. I know it won't be long before I can hold her again.

"Do you ever wonder what their story is?"

Dice follows my gaze to the houses beyond before returning to the road. He understands what I'm implying.

"Everyone has a story, Cloey."

"Maybe so, but do you think ours will have a happy ending?"

He pushes hard on the brake, causing me to lurch forward in my seat. Rolling the truck off the side of the road, he turns off the ignition before turning to me. "Yes."

His tone brooks no argument, and I can't help but smile at his conviction for our future, but right now, I'm having a hard time believing in happily ever after. "My life has been controlled since the day I was born. How can you want to be a part of it, Dice? It's seriously fucked up."

Laughter fills the cab. "Darlin', you do remember who my family is, right?"

"What's going to happen to Dalton?"

Silence. "He'll be placed under arrest. I should have never counted him out tonight."

"But your parents. . ."

"Are going to have to deal with the downfall." Raking a hand through his dark hair, he leans back against the seat. "They strived for perfection for so long they couldn't see their lives crumbling around them. It'll be good for them. Sometimes, people have to realize they have to accept their mistakes no matter where they may lead. Karma can be a bitch, darlin'."

"I'm just glad mine led me back to you," I whisper. His fingers trace the path of my lips. Stilling them, I watch him. "I think I learned something else."

"What's that," he whispers.

I shudder when his hand leaves my lips, only to trace a line down my neck. I can feel my vulnerability with him, and it scares me. "Sometimes you have to admit that you can't go through life alone, even if that seems like the easier path."

"Are you giving me the lesson now, Henderson?"

Another smile, despite the circumstances, finds its way to my lips. "Why? Did you learn anything, Sanders?"

"Yeah."

"What's that?" It's my turn to whisper. I'm almost afraid to hear his answer.

"That I'm never ever walking the fuck away from you again. I love you, Cloey Henderson, and I'm not going anywhere."

"I made a huge mistake keeping you away from Felicity ..."

"And we'll work through that," he interrupts. "You two are my family, and I'll be damned if I'm going back to being that lonely idiot trying to fill the void with more emptiness."

"Is that what those other girls were?" I don't know why it leaks out. Jealousy tends to rear its ugly head even during the worst moments in life. And this is one of the worst and best.

"Yes." Wrapping his hand around my neck, he leans in close. "I'm not complete without you, darlin'."

"I love it when you call me that. It's cheesy, but it makes me want to undress you ..." The kiss he suddenly gives me to shut me up takes my breath away. This one is different, desperate. It's a need to let me know we belong together. My tongue brushes against his, and we moan at the same time. He pulls back, and the air feels empty without him there.

"If you want to back out now, Henderson, you'd better let me know."

"No. I'm in this. Forever."

Cranking the truck, he smiles. "Good. Let's get cleaned up while I show you how much that answer means. And then I want to meet my daughter."