He steps up close to me again, and I bend quickly at my waist, then slam upward, swinging my arms, so my elbow cracks into his face. I pull away and break into a run. But he’s blocking the front door, so I run for the hallway.
“You’re just making this harder,” he says. “You’re never going to get away from me.”
I get to my bedroom and knock the landline off its cradle. The handset hits the floor, but I don’t care. All that matters is being able to dial. I’ve hit the second one when Jonah gets to my room.
“This is Agent Emma Griffin,” I shout into the speaker, reciting my address. “I have an intruder who is threatening my life.”
“You don’t want to do that, Emma,” Jonah warns. “That will make things much more difficult.”
“His name is Jonah Griffin. He assaulted me and is attempting to abduct me.”
His eyes go wild, and he backs out of the room.
“You’re going to regret this.”
“Stop!” I shout as he heads toward the living room.
Leaving the operator shouting at me through the phone, I run after him. Handcuffs aren’t going to stop me from trying everything I can to keep him here. He’s already to the door and unlocking it when I get back into the living room. I find my gun on the floor and pick it up, awkwardly lifting it up with both hands bound in the cuffs.
I turn and draw it on him.
Jonah eyes the gun before opening the door.
“Stop,” I order him again.
He runs out into the night. I chase after him. Aiming through the darkness, I get off a round before the lights appear in the distance. The grunt of pain tells me my bullet landed, but I don’t know where. By the time the police pull up moments later, he’s gone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I had him,” I growl. “He was right there, literally in my hands, and I didn’t stop him.”
I’m wringing my hands together so hard they hurt as I stalk back and forth across the hotel room.
“You did everything you could,” Bellamy insists.
“If that was true, he wouldn’t have gotten away.”
“The police are looking for him,” she tells me.
“I don’t understand how he got away. He was running away from the house as the police got there.”
“They were focused on making sure you were alright,” she says. “They heard a gunshot.”
“Yeah, that was me. They might want to start checking hospitals to find him because wherever he is, he has a bullet in him.”
“Emma,” she says.
“I’m pretty sure I got him in the arm. Maybe the shoulder. I didn’t want to kill him. There’s far too much for him to answer for to go out that easily. But I didn’t think he’d be able to get away.”
“You really should try to get some sleep. You went through a lot tonight,” she tells me.
“And you seriously think I can sleep now?”
“You need to try. You’re starting to spiral again, Emma. You can’t let that happen.”
“I’m not spiraling!”
“Then you’re thinking clearly enough to know how important it is for you to get some sleep if you want to be any good in these investigations. I spoke to the detectives. They want you to stay here tonight. I offered for you to come to my place, but they said you would be safer somewhere more neutral and secure. They have an officer posted to keep an eye on your room and make sure no one gets near it.”
“I should be out there looking for him. He’s getting more dangerous. I just pissed him off royally. Who knows what he’s going to do to deal with it,” I say.
“The police are looking for him, Emma. You need to stay here, stay safe, and get some sleep. I’ve already called Sam and Dean. Both of them know what’s going on. I’m going to stay here with you for as long as you need me to,” she says.
“No,” I sigh. “Go on home. You’ve already been camping out at my house far too much. You should go back to your own place and follow your own advice and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her.
“I don’t mind,” she insists. “I’m always happy to stay with you.”
“I know, B,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “And I appreciate it more than I’m ever going to be able to tell you. Which is why I’m telling you now that you need to go on home. I’m not going to be any good tonight. I should be left alone, so I can think.”
She finally nods and gives me a tight hug. My wrist, wrapped in gauze by an emergency responder, rubs against her back, and pain shoots through my arm. It only makes my anger more intense.
“If you need anything, call me. I will come here in my nightgown if need be,” she promises.
“Why do I think you might do that anyway just to say you did?” I ask.
She smiles and kisses me on the cheek.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep.”
She leaves, and I do my best to calm down. I know she’s right. I eventually need to rest, but the confrontation with my uncle has put me on edge to the point I feel like I can’t even sit down. Much less go to sleep. I keep going over what happened in my head. It almost doesn’t feel real. Like I conjured it all in my sleep-deprived imagination. But
