Hired To Protect Him, Falling For Him

Chapter 11: Someone Else Came Up

Jonah was on the floor.

Not standing. Not fighting. On his side, curled. His white security shirt was dark with blood at the shoulder. The blood was coming too fast. It was pooling under him on the marble floor. His hands were tied behind his back with a thick black zip tie. The plastic was cutting into his skin. His mouth was sealed with silver tape. He was trying to scream through it. Trying to warn us.

"Mmmph! Mmmph! Mmmph!"

The sound was terrible in the dark. The whole penthouse was dark. There were no main lights. Only the red emergency light blinking inside the open elevator. That red light was flashing. On. Off. On. Off. Every time it turned on, it painted everything red. The broken glass on the floor. Jonah's blood. My red dress. Every time it turned off, everything went black.

And standing inside that red light, standing right over Jonah, was a man.

He wore a black suit. Like the suit Elias wore at the gala, but it fit him different. He was tall like Elias, wide shoulders like Elias. He had the same Thorne jawline, sharp and hard. Same dark hair, but cut shorter. You could see it at once. This was family. This was a Thorne. This was Elias's brother.

But he was not Elias.

Elias is bigger. Broader in the chest. Older. His face is warmer even when he is angry. This man was younger. Leaner. His face was thinner. His shoulders were not as broad. His eyes were smaller and they did not have any warmth in them.

Elias, even when he is angry, even when he shouts, is warm. He is fire. When he looks at you, even if he is mad at you, you feel like he sees you. Like he wants to pull you closer. This man was not fire. This man was ice. When he looked at you, you felt cold. Like he was looking through you. Like you were already dead and he was just waiting for your body to fall down.

It was Marcus. The younger brother.

I knew it before Elias said his name. I knew it from the way Jonah flinched when the man moved his foot closer to his bleeding shoulder.

Marcus had a gun in his right hand. A black Glock. I knew that Glock. It was Jonah's. It was the gun Jonah always carried on his belt. Marcus had taken it from him. Taken it and used it on him.

He stepped over Jonah. He did not walk around him. He stepped over him like Jonah was not a person. Like Jonah was a bag left on the floor. His shiny black shoe landed right next to Jonah's bleeding shoulder. Jonah tried to pull away, his body shaking.

"Don't worry," Marcus said. His voice was like Elias's voice, because they are brothers, they have the same family sound. But wrong. Elias's voice is warm, low, and a little rough. This voice was the same low voice but empty. Like someone copied his brother's voice but forgot to put a heart inside it. "I will be quick with you. I don't like messy security. You made a mess."

He did not look down at Jonah when he said it. He was looking at us. At me and Elias by the bed.

Elias was behind me. His whole body was pressed against my back. His chest was against my back. His arm was tight around my waist. I could feel his heart. It was beating so fast. Fast and hard, like it was trying to break out of his chest. His other hand was over my hand. My hand was hidden under the slit of my red dress.

My fingers were already wrapped around cold metal. My Glock. I had hidden it there under the dress from the moment the lights went out. Safety off. Ready. This was the rule from Kabul. If you see the gun first, you already lost. Hide your gun until you need it. Then don't miss.

Marcus smiled. That slow, cold smile from the gala. The one that never reached his eyes. His eyes stayed empty.

"Hi, big brother," he said. "Miss me? It's been a while. You buried me. You stood there in a black suit and watched them put the box in the ground. You even cried. Or you pretended to cry. Very good acting. Very Thorne. Mother would have been proud."

Elias did not answer. I felt his breathing on my neck. Heavy. Shaking.

Marcus's eyes slid from Elias to me. Slowly. Down to my face. Down to my red dress that was torn at the slit from running through glass. Down to my bare feet, bleeding a little on broken glass. Down to my wrist where my small green jade bracelet was glowing even in the red light. Then down to my thigh where my hand was hiding under the fabric.

He saw it. I swear he saw it. His smile got a little wider. A little colder.

"And you must be Nova," he said. "The bodyguard. Clara told me all about you. She said you think you can protect him. She said you wear that dress to distract him. It worked. Look at him. He can't even think when you wear it. He can't even speak."

Behind the big bed, I heard a small sob. Clara. She was hiding behind the bed, curled up into a ball, her designer bag clutched to her chest like a child. Her mascara was running black down her face. Her lipstick smeared. She was shaking so hard the bed was shaking a little.

Marcus didn't even turn his head to look at her.

"So, brother," Marcus said, and he lifted the gun. Not at Jonah anymore. He lifted it and pointed it straight at me. Straight at my chest. At my heart. Over my red dress. Steady. No shaking at all. His hand was perfectly steady. "This is the game now. You have two people you care about in this room. Your loyal dog on the floor who bled for you for years. And your pretty fake girlfriend, who you pay to pretend she loves you. Who do I shoot first?"

The red light kept blinking. Red. Black. Red. Black. Red. Black.

My heart was beating so loud I thought he could hear it. My palm was sweating on the Glock. The metal was warm from my skin now. Safety was off. I had one shot. One chance. If I missed, he would shoot Elias. If I missed, Jonah would die.

Elias's thumb pressed hard on my wrist. Over my pulse. He knew. He knew what I was doing. He was hiding my hand from Marcus with his own big hand. He was telling me wait. Wait. Not yet.

Marcus tilted his head a little to the side. Like he was curious. Like we were animals in a cage.

"You have nothing to say, big brother? No? You always have nothing to say when it matters. You just stand there."

Jonah screamed through the tape again, louder this time, trying to get up, trying to warn us with his eyes.

"Mmmph! Mmmph! Mmmph!"

"Shut up," Marcus told Jonah. Annoyed. Like Jonah was a fly.

Then he looked back at me. Finger on the trigger. Tightening.

"So? Who is it?"

That was it. That was the second he decided. His finger was going to pull.

Elias saw it, too. His whole body tightened behind me like a spring about to snap. And he shouted, so loud it ripped his throat, it ripped the whole dark penthouse:

"NOVA, DOWN!"