Page 127 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

Watches.

His expression is thoughtful and closed off, and I realize that with his position behind the car, the crowd on the other side can’t see how he’s not really attempting to stop Reagan.

Did he let her go? The thought hits me just as his face falls, surprise and panic contorting his features. “No!” he barks, exploding into motion and fumbling for the gun he isn’t carrying.

For a moment I don’t understand his delayed reaction, at least until I turn back to where Reagan went. The officer is on the ground and struggling to his knees, while the other one works to free his own gun. And Reagan, for her part, is holding the stolen gun in both hands, the muzzle dipping with each tremble of her hands but not deviating much from its target.

Me.

“Reagan, stop!” Cass is yelling more than just that, but I can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. My heart pounds, thrumming through my whole body once.

Twice.

Reagan grins, her lips parting so she can mouth the word sorry into the air between us. I see her fingers shift and I shove to my feet, my body immediately entering flight-or-faster flight mode. “Don’t,” I whisper, knowing she can’t hear me.

Is this how my dad felt, I wonder, in those few seconds while he faced down the muzzle of the gun I held?

Did every possibility in the universe flicker through his head between one heartbeat and the next as his brain screamed at him to do something?

Was he too shocked to be truly afraid, just like I am?

The gun goes off and my stomach jolts, just as something knocks Reagan off her feet. My ears ring, and I hold my breath, expecting to feel some kind of burning pain at any microsecond.

But I don’t.

The gun clatters to the ground and is scooped up by Trudeau. When I blink, I see Cass has wrestled Reagan to the ground while she screams and writhes like a feral animal. Then he leans in closer to her, his lips moving rapidly near her ear and a savage smile on his lips that’s in no way friendly or compassionate.

Whatever he says to her makes Reagan scream. She screams and screams, the sound becoming a wail as the officers drag her up and clip cuffs on her without waiting for Trudeau’s permission.

They escort her to the police car and I see Virgil standing next to Trudeau, his eyes are bright and he’s speaking conversationally, though I can’t hear the words.

The detective’s eyes flick to me, and he opens his mouth, only for my sight to be obscured when Cass grabs me, crushing me to his chest.

“Fuck, Winnie,” he chokes out, his voice raw and hoarse as I struggle for air.

“She got a gun,” I murmur, and when I remember it went off, I jerk back, looking at him. “Holy shit, did she shoot you? Did she⁠—?”

“No. She didn’t hit anyone. I’m okay, you’re okay.” He cradles my face in his hands, eyes never leaving mine. “Fuck, you’re okay.” He repeats it a few more times, until I drag him closer to me and press our foreheads together.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, unable to say anything else. “Like…” An ambulance rolls up into the driveway, separating us from the crowd of gawkers on the sidewalk. “Holy shit, Cass. How did she even get his gun?”

When he doesn’t reply, I look up, surprised to see his eyes like shards of ice. Though the look isn’t directed at me. Again he pulls me to his body, encircling me with his arms, as footsteps approach from around the ambulance.

“I am so sorry, Miss Campbell.” Trudeau’s voice shakes on the words, and for the first time he sounds like he means what he’s saying. “She got away from me and…Well, I never thought she’d point the gun at you.”

“Because you thought she’d shoot me instead.” Cass’s words are soft and almost inaudible, but I know Trudeau can hear him. I jerk back to look up, then glance over my shoulder at the detective.

He isn’t denying it.

Before I can say anything, though, paramedics are between us, asking for details. Within seconds, I’m scooped up by my psychotic boyfriend and laid down on a stretcher. “I’m fine,” I tell them, trying to sit up only for the female paramedic to push me back down.

“You’ve got a nasty bump on your head, miss,” she informs me, not unkindly. “And I’d like to get you checked out.”

“Don’t argue, please? For my peace of mind?” Cass chuckles, giving me a small grin.

“Sure, I’ll go. As long as you’re there suffering with me. I at least get to…” I trail off when he looks away, a flicker of guilt on his face that makes my heart twist. “Please come with me.”

“I can’t yet. Trust me though, okay? You won’t even have time to miss me, I promise.” I don’t know how to reply to that. I also can’t figure out what could be so important that he won’t come with me, so I just nod jerkily, able to see the look of guilt he can’t chase off his expression.