The Vows: A Romantic Thriller Duet by Ketley Allison

Author:Ketley Allison [Allison, Ketley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mitchell Tobias Publishing LLC
Published: 2022-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

43

Emme

Four pockets, and just my luck, one last to go. The Skull’s hoodie, both back pockets, and one front were empty. The final option was his left jean pocket—the very one he was lying on. His left arm was also under his body, his legs curled up in a semi-fetal position. The wounded side of his face glared up at me in all its clotted glory. Unfortunately, he had a pulse. During a brave impulse, I hovered two fingers against the side of his neck and felt the tiny wingbeats of life.

Nothing but my breaths made sound in this room, and when I remembered to calm them down, the resultant silence was lethal. I thought I’d regain confidence the more pockets I picked without rousing him, but instead it was the reverse. Sweat tickled my forehead and under my arms, the stress giving up the last vestige of hydration I had. If this last one turned up empty, then I would deal with that when the time came—but that moment would never arrive if I didn’t suck it up and do it already.

I had to roll him.

Wiggling my fingers into the crease of denim induced enough flashes of him rearing up and killing me. Pressing my weight into his shoulder and putting him on his back was a night terror.

I tangled my hand into my hair, massaging my scalp. I was not one for prayer but I sent a please to the ceiling anyway. It had been a while since I’d banged him in the head with the bucket. If he woke up, I didn’t want to be sitting cross-legged across from him, stuck here. I’d rather…I swallowed, coughing against the dry itch of reduced saliva. I’d rather kill him.

Or, the better half of my brain suggested, wait for him to get himself out of here and see how he does it before he leaves.

Okay. I raised my shoulders then lowered them in a giant inhale and exhale.

Leaning forward, I used my left palm to push against his shoulder. He was more dead weight than I thought and I had to get up on my knees, biting down on a scream when my bad knee felt the pressure. I heaved once more, my left arm held like a broken wing against my abdomen. He rocked, but didn’t go all the way down, and this time I didn’t hold back my curse. I swiveled sideways and pushed with my bicep and side, allowing me to acquire more weight in my favor. Physics. At last, he fell back, his right arm flopping to the floor.

I waited, keeping my attention on his face, primed to leap across the room if he woke, injuries or not. When he didn’t, I wiped my sweaty palm on my thigh and resigned myself to the continued stress.

I curved into his pocket, digging gently with my fingers and feeling…what? Something flat. Metal? Plastic? A credit card. My stomach sank. I couldn’t very well pick a latchless door with a charge card, if that was what it was.

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