Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(40)

Refusing to let relief process itself—her friends were now in danger because of her—Ailish went on pure instinct and ducked behind the white sedan, just as the truck and SUV drew even with them. In her peripheral vision, Ailish could see that Vick still pointed his weapon at her, but he dropped to his knees, then down to the concrete before Ailish could even raise her own weapon. Red bloomed on the front of his shirt as his gun clattered to the ground.

Tires squealed as Ailish was scooped up from behind, two hands curling beneath her armpits. A quick over-the-shoulder glance told her it was Erin.

“Come on.” As gunfire volleyed between Henrik’s truck and Gordy from his position ducked down behind the Jeep, Erin pulled her gun and aimed it at Gordy. But instead of pulling the trigger, she handed it to Ailish. “You’re up, Mafia Princess. Henrik just saved your ass, now you save his. That’s how it works.”

Ailish didn’t think—she didn’t need to. If Henrik was hurt because of her, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. With a deep breath, she let the loud sounds and whispered instructions from Erin melt away, and she pulled the trigger.

The moment Gordy dropped, silence reined. And then they were running. Erin hustled Ailish to Henrik’s truck, threw open the door, and urged her inside before jogging back to the SUV.

Ailish only caught a peek at Henrik’s livid expression before tires squealed once again and they were zooming down the small-town street toward the highway.

...

“Are you okay?” Henrik managed through lips gone numb. Don’t think about what would have happened if you’d arrived ten seconds later. Don’t think about it.

If he lived another thousand years, he would never witness anything more terrifying than Ailish being taken away at gunpoint. His stomach protested, urging him to pull the car over and empty its contents, but he breathed through the nausea and kept driving. They had to keep moving. Who knew what kind of small-town sheriff could be a mile behind them, sirens blaring? Derek held no jurisdiction here, leaving them solidly on their own should they be stopped. Connor had already taken the first exit off the two-lane interstate, obviously knowing law enforcement would be looking for two vehicles and they needed to split up.

Henrik kept the gas pedal pushed to the floor and continued onward, although he wanted nothing more than to pull over and shake the girl beside him. Shake her until he stopped seeing her fear back on that sidewalk. Until the stark, brittle feeling of helplessness left him.

Ailish stared straight ahead, still gulping in oxygen. Good. She needed to be aware of the impact of her actions. Goddammit, he was pissed. So why did the need to hold her, tell her everything was going to be all right, override his anger?

“I-I just killed a man,” Ailish murmured. “I’m no better than any of them. My father, Gordy…”

The desolation in her tone made Henrik’s ribs ache. “He was attempting to abduct you, Ailish. You didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I did. There’s always a choice, isn’t there?” She swiped a hand over her eyes. “Is today the first time you took another person’s life?”

“No,” he responded quietly. “It’s not.”

She was quiet for a few beats. “And I was the reason for this time.”

It was torture, not being able to touch her. Pull her across the console into the cradle of his arms when she looked so lost. But it was paramount that they drive hard and far before they even considered stopping. “Did you know those men?”

“Yes.” She smoothed fingers down her seat belt. “Gordy and Vick. I don’t know their last names. Or anything about them, really, except they’ve worked for my father for a long time.” Her voice took on a reminiscent quality. “They weren’t allowed to speak to me. No one was. I think today might have been the first time we exchanged actual words.”

In Henrik’s current edgy state, he knew asking was a bad idea, but nothing would stop him from finding out everything to know about Ailish. It was like an addiction that required feeding. “Why weren’t they allowed to speak to you?”

“I inherited my mother’s gift of persuasion. That’s what I overheard my father tell them. That lies come easy to me.” She looked down at her lap. “They wanted to keep their jobs, and that meant they couldn’t show me any sympathy. Not that they had it in them, but I guess…I guess that’s why they chose to ignore me. They didn’t want to think of me as a person.”

Henrik realized he’d let the vehicle climb to a dangerous speed during Ailish’s explanation and slowed by ten miles per hour. “I won’t lose any sleep over putting one of them down, Ailish. Know that. You shouldn’t, either.”

He could feel her stare. “What was your father like?”

It was the way she posed the question. As if she had no idea how an actual father was supposed to behave. God, he was back to wanting to shake her. Hold her. Kiss her. “He was a cop. Retired now.” Henrik cleared away the dust in his throat. “He believed in the system, doing everything by the book. One of the good ones.”

Had Ailish moved closer? The now-familiar tightening in his stomach that occurred whenever she drew near told him she had. “Did he take you camping?”

“You’re killing me over here, Lish,” he grated, her wistfulness wrapping around his neck like a boa constrictor. “Can we have this talk later?”