Vanished: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance (14 page)

              “I’m here for Mia,” Joey says coldly to Katarina. “And that’s all.”

              A soft chuckle escapes her lips, and I can see her body shaking as she laughs.

              “You’re here for Mia!” she exclaims, waving her arms in a spectacular fashion above her head. “See,
that’s
funny! I was going to say maybe you were here to bury the hatchet. You were here to come back to your home. You were here to bring us back all that money you stole from us! Come on, Joey. Where’s that backpack you always carry around with you? Did you leave it outside?”

              Katarina’s demeanor has taken a turn for the worse, and her voice is suddenly filled with an anger that is impossible to disguise. She paces away from Joey, circling the room like a predator. But he doesn’t move. He just stands stoically in the center of the circle of men while Katarina paces around him. His eyes find me again, and this time I see something reassuring, something that tells me everything will be all right. Even though I have no idea how, I feel a sense of security come over me.

              “I told you I was leaving, Kat,” he says coldly. My head is spinning. He
does
know her, and the way he’s speaking to her…so familiar. Could it really be true? Could this woman really be his wife?

              “Oh, you say a lot of things, Joey,” Katarina says, moving behind him, tracing a line across his neck with a fingernail. “How are we supposed to know when you’re serious and when you’re not?”

              “I didn’t just say it, Kat. I did it. I left. And I expect you to understand that. I’m not coming back.”

              Katarina seems so amused as she eyes Joey, almost like she’s toying with him. Joey’s eyes fall on me again. “Are you okay?”

              I can only nod, my throat dry from nerves. Joey eyes the men around him, advancing slowly like they expect him to do something, their hands I see now on gun holsters at their waists. They must have seen what Joey is able to do if they’re this prepared.

              “Why
did
you leave us, Joey? We were such a team, you and I.”

              “No we weren’t,” he says quickly, venom in his voice.

              “How can you say that?” Katarina says, a look of fake surprise on her face. Everything about her is calculated, manipulative. She stops in front of Joey, both hands on her hips, tossing her jacket back and exposing her pale, slender shoulders. “We were great together!”

              “It was all a lie. A relationship is built on trust. We never were, and we never could be.”

              My heart sinks at his words. So they
were
together. And maybe they are still married. Could that be what he didn’t want to tell me? What he couldn’t tell me? That would explain everything. Joey ran off six years ago, and he didn’t come home because he found someone else. He got married, had a child, then something happened…they had a fight, and he came back to Stonehill to reminisce.

              Immense sadness washes over me as I realize what I am: just an affair, just a side piece to his real life, and this woman standing in front of me, tall and dark and dangerous, this is his real love—his
wife
, and I will never have a place in his life.

              “It wasn’t
all
a lie,” she says, stepping close to him and bringing her lips to his neck. His eyes never leave mine as she leans in and kisses him.

              In the blink of an eye, Katarina is flying backwards through the air away from him, and Joey is spinning toward the closest man. His hand arcs out and connects with the man’s throat, dropping him like a ragdoll. A man behind Joey lunges out toward him, but Joey spins and cracks his cheekbone with a back fist that sends the man to the floor.

              The next man closest to him pulls his gun, but Joey slaps it away. It goes off, cracking loudly, echoing through the warehouse before scattering away across the floor. Joey kicks the man hard in the knee and follows up with a fist to the jaw. The man lands in a pile on the floor.

              Two men draw their guns and take aim on Joey, but he grabs the last man by the neck and puts him between them, holding him like a human shield. The men struggle for a better angle, but Joey snatches the gun from his captive and aims it directly at Katarina.

              “Drop it!” he shouts. The men look to Katarina, who is picking herself up off the ground. She stares back a Joey like a cornered animal. If looks could kill. She gives her men a sinister sidelong glance but nods. The two men look pissed as hell, but carefully place their guns on the floor.

              “Let her go. Now,” he orders, nodding in my direction.

              “Joey—“ Katarina begins, but he snaps at her.

              “Now! And don’t try anything. You remember how good a shot I am, don’t you, Kat?” Aiming the gun at her. Her eyes narrow into slits as she retrieves the handcuff key and moves toward me. “Slowly!”

              Both hands raised, she backs toward me, Joey still aiming the gun at her. Besides the electronic buzzing of the lights above, her boots clapping against the hard ground are the only sound in the hangar. Slowly, she reaches into her pocket. Joey raises the gun at her as a warning.

              “Just getting the key,” she says, producing a small silver key for the handcuffs. She moves to circle around me, but Joey cocks back the hammer of the gun.

              “Stay in front of her,” he says in a threatening voice. “No tricks.”

              Katarina’s face twists with anger, and it’s then I notice the black military knife hidden in her waist band. She was going to use that on me, and Joey knew it! How is he this capable? I can’t help but think back to that day at school and his fight with Brad. It seems like ancient history at this point, and that Joey couldn’t be further away from the one standing in front of me now.

              The key slides into the lock and the handcuffs spring open. I’m free. Katarina stands before me looking defeated as I toss the cuffs aside. They clatter to the floor, and Joey, still holding his captive, starts backing toward the hangar door.

              “Back! All of you!” he shouts to the men, waving the gun in their direction. “Hands up!”

              They can only comply with his demands and raise their hands, backing away as he makes his way toward the hangar door.

              “Mia! Come on!”

              I turn to Katarina, who looks like the top of her head is about to blow off with an explosion of steam.

             
Not so tough now
, I think, eyeing her up and down.

              She
is
pretty, but would Joey have really gone for her? I can’t believe this is what’s on my mind right now, but it’s all I can think about when I stare at her. She looks right back at me with contempt, and something rises up inside me that I’ve never felt before, and I swing my arm with everything I’ve got and slap her on the face.

              Her head jerks to the side, and I make sure I’m smiling when she turns to look back at me.

             
God, that felt good
.

              “Mia, come on,” Joey says, almost at the door. Police sirens fill the air, and I can feel the men behind me start to shuffle around, panicked and ready to run. I give Katarina a wink and make my way to Joey’s side. The sirens are growing louder, and I can hear the sounds of engines growing near. The men are right on edge, ready to bolt.

              “Nice to see everyone!” Joey exclaims, taunting them with a smile as we step outside. He releases his captive and plants his foot in his back, kicking him forward and sending him tumbling into the hangar. The rest of the men scatter like fleeing insects.

              I hear gunshots.

              “Joey!” I shout, adrenaline coursing through my body.

              “Come on!” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the night. The ground outside is rough and I stumble as he leads me into the darkness. More gunfire. Joey trips and curses, stumbling to regain his footing.

              “Where are we going?” I shout.

              “This way!” His voice sounds strained and heavy.

              Suddenly, the inky black landscape is illuminated by flashing red and blue lights streaking through the air as a fleet of police cruisers come over the hill, their lights beating down on us as we run.

              Joey pulls me hard off the dirt road and, and we race through a labyrinth of broken down tractor trailers and pickup trucks. The cop cars scream by at full speed, sirens blaring, kicking up an enormous cloud of dust as they roar past. My heart pounds like a hammer, and I’m so full of adrenaline I can hardly feel my legs as they propel me forward into the night.

              “Up here!” Joey shouts. I feel rocks under my feet, and we climb quickly up a small embankment, reaching the top of a hill. I turn and see an army of policemen spill out of their cars, guns drawn. The wind whips through my hair, and I watch as they move into the hangar. For a moment, everything is silent.

              Then the night is filled with the sounds of gunfire. It sounds like thunder striking close by, each loud crack sending a frightened jolt through my body. I feel Joey’s strong arm around my waist, feel the comforting warmth of his body against the cold air, and I look up at him, my eyes begging for answers. I can see the pain in his eyes, but I know that we are now safe. I’m safe with him.

              “This way,” he whispers, pulling me away from the mayhem, leaving the hangar behind us. We make our way down the slope of the hill, and I see a nondescript sedan parked under the overhanging branches of a weeping willow.

              For a moment, my body freezes. I can’t move. All of the chaos has caught up to me, and it’s like my brain has short circuited. I can see Joey standing in front of me, and I can see his mouth moving, but all I hear is a deep, vacant hum with the occasional crack of thunder.

             
Gun fire
, I am able to correct myself.

              Joey moves forward, his lips moving. My eyes begin to focus on his lips, and slowly his voice begins to seep through the droning sound of the night.

              “Mia! Come on!” He’s shouting.

              I feel his hands on my shoulders. He shakes me hard, and I snap out of my stupor.

              “Joey!”

              “Are you with me, Mia?” he asks.

              “Y-yes,” I stammer. “Yes!”

              “Okay, come on. We have to get out of here!”

              Joey races to the car and opens the passenger door for me. I manage to move with him to the car, and sit as he guides me in with his hand on my arm. He slams the door behind me and races around to the driver’s side. I feel something wet on my arm.

              As I look down, I see my arm covered with blood.

             
Am I bleeding?

              I hear Joey get in the car beside me and twist the key in the ignition. The engine leaps to life and the tires spit rocks as he steps on the gas. 

              Joey is panting heavily beside me. The car hits a bump as we skid onto a road and pick up speed.

             
Joey parks the car in front of my house and climbs out quickly. I’m right behind him as we rush up the steps. My hands are shaking, and I fumble with my keys trying to get them in the lock. I drop them twice before I get us inside and slam the door.

              I’m stuck for a moment. My eyes seem unable to focus on anything, and all I can do is listen to the sound of my own breath. My head nods in rhythm with each exhalation, and I look down at my hands like they belong to someone else. It isn’t real, what just happened. None of this is. I’m just getting home from working a shift at Gina’s…

              “Shit,” I hear Joey curse, snapping me slightly out of my stupidity as he stomps into the kitchen. I hear the water running.

              It’s then that I realize my shirt sleeve is still soaked with blood. I look down at my arm and roll up my sleeve, checking for a wound. But I don’t see anything. Maybe I’m bleeding somewhere else. I look at my legs. But they’re fine. I check my other arm. My hands. I lift my shirt and check my stomach. But nothing. I’m fine.

              What the hell is going on?

              “Joey, I think—I think I’m hurt,” I call to him. There’s no response. I make my way into the kitchen to find Joey leaning over the sink panting heavily. And it’s then I realize the truth.

              It’s not my blood. It’s Joey’s.

              He has a wet dish towel in his hand and is pressing it against a wound on his stomach that seems to be pouring blood.

              “Joey!” I shout, leaning over, pressing my hand against his. “Are you—did they shoot you?

              “It’s all right,” he wheezes, his breath raspy and heavy.

              “How is it all right?! Joey, we have to get you to the hospital!”