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“Not really,” Jack says dryly. “I highly doubt any of my coworkers would believe that an untrained civilian could get the best of me, especially when there are two of us and only one of her.”
“Ah, but we all know Jack Reynolds would do anything for his precious wife. Even take a bullet for her.” Stella smirks, gloating like she’s just layed down her royal flush and taken the winning pot. I can’t see Jack’s face, but his shoulders slump. I wait for him to deny what she’s saying. Surely he will. It’s in our best interest for him to feign indifference to me. In fact now seems like a good time for him to remind them that our marriage was born of convenience, not love.
“Look at his face,” Stella says to Sven, “he knows we’ve got him there.”
“You hurt her and I’ll kill you.” Jack’s words slice through the air, ominous despite Stella and Sven having the clear upperhand.
A long-held fear deep inside me subsides, vanishing as quickly as a puff of smoke. I thought no one could ever love me enough to stay with me, that I was someone destined to be abandoned by the people who are supposed to love me. But here Jack is showing me that he would give his life for me. That I’m someone worth sticking around for.
A steely resolve comes over me. I need to show Jack that I am willing to do the same for him, that I love him enough to stay too.
Jack’s gun is still holstered at his waist, inaccessible to him with Stella’s gun trained right on him. But Stella can’t see me. Can I get it to it in time to grab it and shoot her?
Do I have the guts to do something like that? I’m not sure I even have the skill to do it. Gosh, what if I missed?
Why, oh, why did I leave my phone on my desk? I would much rather try and hide making a phone call than drawing a gun.
“Bring Connie over here,” Stella instructs Sven. She sounds flustered, like Jack’s threat has unnerved her. “We need to get this over with.”
The problem is, even if I did manage to fire off a shot and hit Stella, there’s still Sven to contend with. He has a gun too. He shot Cleo with it.
And he didn’t miss.
“Connie, Connie, Connie,” Stella drones. “You really messed up stealing my husband from me so many years ago.”
I can no longer see Sven and Connie, but they must’ve removed her gag because she speaks for the first time.
“That’s what this is all about?” she shrieks. “Good grief, Estelle! You can have the man! Or you could’ve if he hadn’t been murdered last night. I don’t want him. Haven’t wanted him for a long time. You think he ended his cheating ways when he married me? He didn’t!”
“Save it, Constance,” Stella barks.
“Please,” Connie whines. “Don’t kill me! Do you want money? I have lots and you can have it all. I don’t want it. In fact I was going to leave town today, so you can have our house too. Yes, that seems fair. I took your husband, now you can have all his money and his house. I’ll leave with Frank and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“Frank?” This takes Stella by surprise, but, thanks to Jack theorizing about the two of them being a couple, I’ve already had time to process the oddity of the match. “You were going to leave town with Frank?” Stella has a tone I recognize. The one where she’s excited to be the recipient of some juicy gossip. “Nighttime security guard, Frank? Obsessed with Ian, Frank?”
“That’s the one,” Connie sniffs. “And he’s not obsessed with Ian. That was all an act to avoid suspicion. He and I are in love. We were going to run away together and start over. But then Ian had to ruin everything and get himself killed! Suddenly I’m being kidnapped by a giant psychopath while Frank is in the shower.” Connie seems to be teetering on the edge of hysteria. “And to think I was happy when Ian never came home last night. I thought, this makes our getaway even easier! Of course then Frank heard on his police scanner about the dead body found on Nora’s lawn and–since he saw her get in the car with Ian last night–pieced it together that she must’ve killed him. We were thrilled. With Ian dead, we thought we could start over here— with money. But of course,” she goes on hastily, “we’re happy to go back to our original plans and give you the house!” She breaks off breathing hard.
“You and Frank the security guard?” Stella is still stuck on this point, and I realize this is my moment. Stella’s biggest weakness has always been gossip, and she is completely enthralled by this discovery. I can see through the gap in the doorway that, though her gun is still trained on Jack, her eyes are focused on Connie. Sven too is looking down at Connie, his gun hanging loose at his side.
I only hesitate for a second and then I reach forward and grab the gun from Jack’s holster, ready to shoot.
There’s only one problem: in my haste to act I forgot about the safety. Which is totally on. Jack could have easily disabled it as he drew the gun, but I’m a far less experienced shooter, who for the life of me can’t actually remember how to switch it off.
Before I can completely panic, though, Jack’s hand grips the gun over mine, warm and reassuring. He flips the safety off just as Stella and Sven turn their attention back our way. Stella’s gun goes off a millisecond before Jack fires. Time seems to temporarily slow down as the bullets ring through the air, then it picks up speed again as Stella’s bullet miraculously misses both me and Jack, striking the far wall of the office with a burst of drywall.
“Get behind the desk!” Jack cries as he fires another shot in their direction, using his body to scoot me away from the doorway and behind the wall. “Get behind the desk!” he shouts again as another bullet whizzes into the room, exploding the bowl of mints on Ian’s desk.
Not wanting him to be distracted by worry for me, I do as he says, positioning myself behind the three drawers on the right side of the desk.
I can’t just leave him to fight alone, though, so I do the only thing I can think of and grab the heavy brass paperweight Ian keeps on his desk, then turn and launch it blindly out the door. I hear Stella curse, but don’t dare look to see if I hit anything. Instead I continue to grab random items and hurl them out the door: a tape dispenser, a stapler, a water bottle. When I’ve emptied the desk of anything worth throwing, I move onto the drawers. There’s nothing much in the top one, but the bottom one is full of random junk. I launch a pair of socks, a stick of deodorant, and another paper weight.
I’m about to start rapid firing pens (last resort item), when I realize the bullets have stopped firing. Still, I don’t dare move from behind the desk.
Is Jack okay? Fear clenches my stomach.
“Nora!” His voice speaks my name into the eerie silence. “Nora, are you okay? You can come out now. It’s over.”
“Jack!” I cry, pushing myself up. And there he is, hurrying across the small space to me, wrapping me up in his strong arms and holding me tightly to him. I can hear his heart beating, feel the tension easing from his body. He pulls back, looking me over with concern.
