Running From Destiny (25 page)

Lanky dude closes the door and runs to us,
and I prepare to make my move. I drop the rope and as he get close to me, I kick my foot out effectively tripping him and I stand up and kick his gun out of his hand and plant my heal on his lower back, then rip the tape off my face. “Ally, let me up. I’m a cop!” Lanky dude says. “Wh…What? I don’t believe you.” I say back to him in a shaky voice. “In my back pocket is my badge and this gun you just kicked away is police issued. Please trust me.” He says as I look to Heather, unsure whether to believe him or not. I flash back to when I first saw him and noticed something different about him, and then Heather nods her head. I lift my foot and he springs to his feet, grabbing me and turning me the other way. “Go! There is a back door to your right, my men will be there waiting for you. Go! While I get Heather free.” He pushes me toward the back corner.

“No, I won’t leave her.
We go together.” I say as he tears the tape off of her mouth.

“Silly girl.” Is all I hear him say as he quickly unties the knots on Heathers
hands? When she is finally free, she stands up and we start to head toward the back of the room to exit, Heather falling slightly behind me. As we round the corner, I hear two gun shots and a female scream. I turn around and Heather is on the floor, bleeding. “Go Ally! Now! I’ll get her, just go!” Lanky Dude screams at me, and I flee as fast as my fat ass will go in heels, which isn’t very fast.

I get to the
back door and slowly open it. “Atlanta PD, get your hands up!” A male voice yells from outside the door. I raise my hands up over my head and kick the door open with my foot.

“Don’t shoot, ple
ase!” I cry out toward nothing. I don’t see anyone, but I can feel their presence. Suddenly, I am grabbed from behind and I am running like a bat out of hell.

“
Wait, Heather! She’s still in there, I scream as I start to fight against the cop escorting me out of this hell hole.”

“We have
it under control, Ms. Sanders. Officer McKinney has her under protection and EMS is on the way.” He tells me as we keep running, my fighting tactics suck because he managed to keep me headed in the same direction. “Murphy, I have one girl with me. The other is still inside. Get in there and help McKinney.” He announces through the radio clipped to his shirt.

I hear more gunfire and then silence, wh
ich quickly turns into sirens. I’m now in a wooded area, behind some trees and there are several other officers there, along with the K9 unit, the dogs on their leashes barking and begging to make a run toward the building we just ran from. I am surrounded by cops and I feel safe for the first time since Heather picked me up at the airport, so I sit down on the hard ground and the sobs overtake me.

A warm hand touches my shoulder and I look up into the eyes of a very pretty
woman in full police uniform. As I see her gentle features, the tears come even harder, and she sits down on the ground beside me. She doesn’t say anything at first, she just lets me cry it out of my system.

“Is my friend okay?” I ask her as I exhale a shaky breath.

“EMS is looking at her now, but it appears she’ll be okay, just a flesh wound in her thigh. She’ll be in pain for a while, but it’s not life threatening. She’s being transported to Grady Hospital, which is where you’ll be going to be checked out as well.” She tells me and I cry out again, this time in relief. “Once you are checked out and cleared, we will need to get your statement. Do you think you will be okay to do that?” She asks, and I silently nod at her.

“I want to see Heather.”
The officer nods and stands, holding out her hand for me to take while I stand as well.

She leads me to back to the front of the warehouse where I see like eight police cars and three ambulances, as well as WAGA and WSB trucks trying to get past the barricade to report on the incident.
I stop and stare at the scene in front of me, comparing it to a war zone in Afghanistan that I’ve seen clips of on TV. Two piles lie on the ground in different places, covered in blue tarps, spotlights shining over the area and I see cops all over the place.

This is when reality really hits me, my head starts spinning and bile creeps up in the back of my throat and hands wrap around my shoulders, and then everything goes dark.
The last thing I hear is the officer next to me calling for an EMT.

Chapter 21

My eyes are burning and my lids are heavy, but I blink away the sting and finally open my eyes. I start to freak out until I realize I am in a hospital room, soft ambient lights filling the room. “Doctor, she’s awake.” I hear a soft female voice say as a tall, grey haired man steps over to me.

“Ms. Sanders?
I’m Doctor Feldman and you are in the ER at Grady Hospital. How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Not sure, you’re the doctor, you tell me.” I reply with a bit of sarcasm in my voice, and he laughs.
“You blacked out earlier and you’ve been unconscious for about forty five minutes, do you remember anything?” He asks.

I mentally shake the cobwebs out of my head and try and focus on a mirror on the wall ahead of me, but my brain function has not come back to full capacity yet.
“Ummm, wait. My friend? Is Heather okay?” I ask.

“Yes, Ms. Langley is in the cubicle next to you.
I’ll open the curtain and you can see her.” He says as he moves to my side, sliding the shower curtain looking thing open. I blink a few more times and I see Heather lying on the bed next to me, and she’s looking right back at me, her eyes full of worry and sorrow.

“Al?
Oh God, are you okay? You had me scared to death over here.” She says, a small smile creeping up on her lips.

I try to sit up, but the room starts spinning again and I lay back down, turning my head to look at Heather.
“Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes.” I tell her, attempting to smile back. I look down her body and I see the white bandage wrapped around her thigh. “YOU WERE SHOT! OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?” I yell as I finally register what is going on, and what happened earlier in the morning.

“Yeah fine, just a graze.
But I’m gonna have one hell of a scar I’m told.” She says, almost laughing.

“It’s not funny Heather.
You were shot! And because of me!” I cry out, reaching for her hand to hold and squeeze, but she is too far away and my hand just waves around grasping at air. “Has anyone told you what all of this shit was about, why we were taken?” I ask her quietly, not wanting the doctors and nurses to hear me.

Heather shakes her head negatively, “No.
But I’ve been told we have to give statements to the police soon, maybe they will fill us in on what happened.”

We lay there and talk a little more, trying to get a grip on what’s happened and what apparently is still going on, because there are police crawling the halls and coming in and out of the ER.
A nurse comes in and takes my blood pressure and other vitals and tells me everything seems to be back to normal and that she will get the doctor to see if he will release me.

An orderly comes in to take Heather to her room.
“No!” She tells the orderly, swatting at his hand. “I WANT TO GO HOME TOO!” She yells in frustration. Hearing her yell, the doctor comes back in to calm her.

“Ms. Langley, we just want to keep you overnight to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected.
It may only be a graze, but it is pretty deep and susceptible to infection. We are giving you antibiotics via your IV, but it could be twelve to twenty four hours before any possible infection sets in. If you go home, you may be right back here within hours.” He tells her as he takes a peek at her injury.

Replacing her bandage, “Now.
We’ll take you up to your room and Alexandra can come visit you later on. Both of you need rest and I believe the police want to talk to Alexandra this morning.” He tells us both as he exits the room, motioning for someone to come in but I can’t see who. A few seconds later another orderly comes in with another wheelchair and parks it next to my bed. “Ms. Sanders, if you will come with me.” He says to me as he helps me out of the bed and into the chair.

“I don’t need that, I can walk.” I spit back at him, but he mumbles something about hospital procedure and for me to sit my ass down.
Well, he doesn’t really say that, but I can imagine that is what he is thinking.

I get into the chair and shift to get comfortable as he pushes me over to Heather’s bed.
I take her hand and cup it in my own, brushing my fingers across her knuckles. “I’m sorry Heather.”

“Sorry for what?
You didn’t do anything. You’re as much a victim here as I am. No need to be sorry.” She tells me as we both begin to cry again. “Now go, go talk to the police and find out what the hell is going on and come see me later.” She tells me with a final squeeze to my hand, the orderly turns me around and heads toward the door. I turn back as we exit the door and blow her a kiss, her catching it and pressing her hand to her mouth.

As we travel down the long hallway, I reflect on the past few hours.
The cold metal of the gun against my head, the sticky tape on my face and the horrible smell of the men who captured us. The smell comes rushing back to me, even though I never really noticed it when we were in the warehouse. Not sure why, but I think it might be that my other senses were on such high alert, that some shut completely off. Makes sense to me.

As we approach the end of the hall, I see an officer standing outside a closed door.
As he sees us, he speaks into his radio attached to his collar. He’s not in uniform, but in black pants with a black tee shirt stretched out over his broad chest, a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve. We get in front of the door and he reaches behind himself and opens it, never taking his face or body from facing forward. The orderly pushes me into the room and I scan the room, taking in what I see.

Lanky Dude is sitting at the table which is in the center of the room sipping on coffee in a paper cup.
I look around and see two other men standing in the corner, face to face having a deep conversation. When they realize I am in the room, they both stop talking and look my way. I suck in a deep breath and I feel the panic again, starting at my toes and flowing up my body causing a heated flush across my chest, neck and face.

One pair of green eyes and one pair of whiskey colored eyes look down at me, full of sympathy and
judgment. Mr. Green Eyes is about two inches taller than Mr. Whiskey Eyes, and they both reek of power and dominance. Before I register who I am looking at, Mr. Green Eyes stalks toward me like a predator, scooping me up into his arms. My eyes focus and I realize I am being held by Jackson Bentley. Fuck, how did he get here? And why? He squeezes me so tight that the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh and his lips slam down on my own, his hands running through my messy hair.

I feel his body start shaking and he carries me over to an arm chair in the other corner, sitting down with me on his lap and pulling me into his chest.
His hands continue to stroke my hair and I realize that we are both trembling. “Alexandra, I’m so glad you’re okay; and I'm so angry that you ran from me. I was trying to warn you about what was going on and you...you frustrating girl...you ran again.” He says in a shaky voice as he smooths my hair and strokes my shoulders.

Confused, I look up at him and I can see something different in those em
erald eyes. Passion, fear and…love? No, surely not. It’s just emotions taking over and I think I’m feeling something I know isn’t there. He just feels guilty for putting me....wait a second. “Jackson? What are you talking about? What’s going on?” I ask as I look back at Mr. Whiskey Eyes and realize who he is.

Chase Rowland
.

“What the fuck?”
I stare at the men surrounding me and try to take everything in. Chase is standing in front of us and he lowers his body to his knees, taking my hand in his. “Ally, I am so sorry you got involved in all of this, but we will explain everything.” He says softly as he looks into my eyes.

Frustrated, I squirm my way out of Jackson’s lap and stand to face both of them.
Chase rises from his knees and Jackson stands up, but doesn’t take his hand off of me, like he’s afraid to let go.

I notice another man sitting across from Lanky Dude, but he is the only man in this room I don’t recognize.
He is leaning back in his chair, with one arm draped over the back of the chair next to him, a coffee cup in the other hand. He’s just sitting there quietly, taking in the scene playing out before him.

I look around the room like a deer caught in headlights and my hand absently traces the front of my shirt.
I look down and realize I don’t recognize the clothing I am wearing. Scrubs. “Where is my dress?” I ask no one in particular. A deep voice comes from behind me, Chase.

“The hospital provided those for you since your dress was......torn.”

I then remember Mean Guy #3 dragging that knife through the material of my dress, the slicing sound and the feel of the point of the knife grazing my flesh and I start to shake again, feeling my legs go weak beneath me. Strong arms wrap around me and guide me to the chair opposite the guy I don’t know, gently sitting me down.

I’m not sure who just saved me from collapsing on the floor, and I don’t care at this point.
I slump in the chair and the tears come back full force, my hands covering my face. The overwhelming sobs returning and I know I’m close to a complete breakdown, which is something that has been lurking for a while. I’ve managed to hold it together until now.

“
Shhhh, its okay, Ally. You’re safe now. No one can hurt you.” I hear Chase as he brushes his hands up and down my back in an attempt to calm me. I look up and turn my head toward him, but I only see Jackson who now looks angry. He steps forward and politely urges Chase’s large body to move to the side, taking his place next to me, pulling a chair out and sitting down.

Then Lanky Dude speaks.
“Ms. Sanders, my name is Nathan McKinney, I’m a Vice Cop with the Atlanta PD. You’ve got some defense moves down, I might say. I think I still have marks from your shoe in my neck.” He says trying to lighten the mood a little, and I try to snicker but am unsuccessful, the sound catching in my throat. “This is Detective Scott Nelson, NYPD.” He motions toward the unknown man across from me. “And this guy, Chase Rowland, is also Vice here with Atlanta PD, we’ve both been undercover, trying to bring down a large meth cartel that is based out of New York City and was slowly trying to merge into the Atlanta area.

“Ms. Sanders, can you tell us what happened tonight?” Detective Nelson asks
.

“Wait a minute, Scott.” Chase speaks up.
“Can’t we give her a few minutes to take everything in?”

“Detective Rowland
, you know that the sooner we get her statement, the more accurate it will be. We can’t let her stew on it long enough to get details incorrect.” The NYPD detective says, looking back at me. “Ms. Sanders, I know you have been through quite an ordeal, but the sooner we can get these questions out of the way, the sooner you can go home.” He tells me as I feel Jackson scoot a little closer to me.

“I-I’m fine.” I say to Chase.
“It’s okay, let’s get this over with so I can get to Heather.” I whisper, my voice still shaking.

I proceed to tell him everything.
“After my plane landed, I texted Heather to come pick me up. I got in the car and I could tell something was wrong, but I let it go because I was stewing in my own anger at the time. I really didn’t feel like talking, so I stared out the window. As we pulled on to the freeway, I heard a click in the back seat.........” I continue with the story.

Once I’ve finished, I hear Jackson exhale a deep breath and growl like a tiger, or lion or something.
He sounds fierce and extremely angry, but he is still sitting beside me.

“Thank you for speaking with us.” Detective Nelson says as he stands to leave
.

“Wait, someone needs to tell me what in the hell happened.
How is Jackson involved in all of this and why is he here?” I ask the detective, but I am looking at Jackson.

Chase speaks up then.
“Ally, those men that kidnapped you and Heather were major runners in a huge drug war and we took them down last night. These men were responsible for providing Madison Stone with the drugs that took her life. Mr. Bentley was working with the NYPD to help bring down this cartel and get them, and the drugs, off the street. He employed me to protect you and keep you safe, only I failed at that task.” He says as he looks down at the floor.

I feel Jackson’s hand on my thigh squeeze in a symbol of affection and comfort, but my body continues to tremble with fear, rage and confusion.
“I don’t understand. I thought you ......shit.” I drop my head down. “I don’t know what I thought.” This is all so surreal that I can’t take it in. I hear what they’re saying, I’ve confirmed the details of what happened to me, but I can’t get my mind around what truly happened and all of the events that led up to this point. I’m tired and my brain shut off about eight hours ago.

“Can I go home now?” Is all I
ask. No more questions about Jackson’s involvement, no questions about Chase’s involvement and no desire to hear anymore at this point. All I want is a hot bath, a bottle - or two - of wine and my jammies - then bed. I fight the heaviness in my eyelids and I feel my head start to drop toward the table. Great, all I need is a big bruise on my forehead from it slamming into the table. “Please, someone take me home.”

I see Nathan nod at Jackson out of the corner of my eye, and he stands taking me with him holding tight to my hand.
As we make our way toward the door, I turn back. “Detective McKinney?” I ask and he looks up at me from the desk, eyes peering over his coffee cup. “Why did you shoot that guy in the head?”