Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Thank fuck.” His voice was shaky, his touch tender. “She breathing?” He inclined his head toward Marcie.
“I think so.”
Tor turned his head from left to right, scanning the room. “That’s her weapon?” He tipped his chin toward Marcie’s gun, which lay in a beam from her flashlight.
“Yes.”
“Stay there.”
He marched toward the gun, picked it up along with the flashlight, and then swept the light over the floor. “This is where she was standing when she was hit?” He carefully made his way over to the spot. “There’s pooled blood.”
“I think so.”
Tor squatted low to the ground, Marcie’s gun in his hand. “Look away.”
“What?”
“Turn your head or close your eyes, Jule. Now.”
Instinctively, he did as Tor said and squeezed his eyes shut. Two shots rang through the dark and then it was quiet again.
“What’d you do?” He stared at Tor.
“What I had to do.” He set the gun and flashlight down and walked back to him. “Can you carry her into the car?”
Jule nodded, his mind unable to process everything that was happening.
“Do that and then drive away and call this in. In that order. Tell them the detective returned fire after she was shot and then she passed out. That’s all you remember.”
“Tor, I don’t—”
“She needs a hospital but it’s not safe for her to stay here and wait for an ambulance. Good Sam’s the closest. Did you hear what I said? Call it in. She was shot, returned fire, then passed out. Got it?”
“Yes.” Jule stood and lifted Marcie into his arms. “You coming?”
“I need to walk through this place to make sure nobody else is here.”
“Why? Come with me.”
“Can’t. Jule, go. I’ll be fine.”
“Tori.”
“She’s going to bleed out. Go.”
Everything in him rebelled at walking away from Tor, but he was right about Marcie, so Jule stopped arguing, shuddered as he passed Tommy’s lifeless body, and ran to the car.
“Hey.”
Tor’s whispering voice and tender touch woke him up. He was stretched beside Jule, his palm stroking Jule’s cheek.
“What time is it?” He blinked his dry eyes open.
“Little after three. Sorry to wake you up. I can’t stay. Just came to check on you.”
“’S okay. I’m glad you came.” It had been after midnight by the time he had finished talking to the police about the absolute clusterfuck that had happened at the warehouse. Between the drive home, shower, and anxiety that had been twisting his gut, he couldn’t have been asleep for more than half an hour. He raised his arm, wrapped it around Tor, and cupped the side of his neck. “I was scared tonight.”
“I know.” Tor kissed his forehead. “Sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”
“Not about me, about you.” He nuzzled Tor’s neck.
“I wasn’t the one being shot at.” Tor pressed his face to Jule’s neck and hugged him tightly.
He combed his fingers through Tor’s hair. When he hadn’t been talking to detectives, Jule had been thinking about what Tor could possibly have been doing in a warehouse that had been one crime scene months earlier and become another that night. The only definitive answer he could come up with was nothing good. He didn’t have a solution for what they could do about the danger Tor’s father posed, but maybe if Tor were willing to talk to him about it, they could come up with a plan together. Nobody was smarter than Tor or more determined and yet he had been running for over a decade. It was both unsustainable and out of character. And in addition to all of that, Jule had seen very clearly that the life Tor was living was likely just as unsafe as the one he was avoiding.
“Why are you doing this, Tor? You don’t have to. You can stop. I can help you stop.”
“I can’t.”
“Fuck that. I’m so sick of this shit. Aren’t you sick of it?”
“Leave it alone, Jule.” Tor propped his forehead against Jule’s and wove his fingers through Jule’s hair.
He always had. Every time Tor had shut down, he had relented. They were twenty-eight years old. People around him were getting married, having children. But they were stuck in a purgatory that Tor seemed unwilling to fight his way out of. For years, Jule had relented, but in that moment, exhausted and scared and frustrated, Jule pushed back. Not with his fists or with his rage, but with his words. “No. Tori, I don’t understand. Talk to me. You never fucking talk to me.”
Something shifted in Tori’s expression, a crack, and for a moment, he thought he’d gotten through to him. But then the blinds came down, his expression shuttered, and he sat up.
“Tor?” he said, panicked. “What are you doing?” He didn’t need to hear the answer because Tor was showing him by reaching for his shoes. “Please don’t go.” He kicked himself for pushing too hard. “Tor, come on.” He gripped his hip.