Saks watched in horror as the younger man dove for his gun and shot off a blast at Pearson. Jessica, halfway toward the car, threw herself in utter fear and slammed down hard without the use of her arms to catch herself. All hell was breaking loose, and Saks needed to regain control.
“Don’t fucking move,” Saks spat as he wrenched Kosikov’s arm behind his back and jammed the gun into his ear. “And you!” he shouted after the kid, “drop that fucking gun and kick it away.”
Like a deer in headlights, the young man stared until he darted off after Pearson like a skittish cat. For a moment Saks thought of trying to hit him in the leg to keep him from running, but he was probably hired help anyway. The young kid had probably just gotten himself in deep without realizing what he was doing.
Everything slammed back into focus when Chrissy’s voice rang in the air. “Jess! Jess! Oh, my God, are you okay?”
Jessica groaned and rolled over. “Damn heels,” she muttered, drawing the softest of sighs from Chrissy.
“Are you okay? Can you stand?”
“I think I may have sprained my ankle, but I’m not sure. I’d been tied to a stupid chair for so long my legs were asleep. I could barely feel my feet when we were forced out here.”
“I was so worried you got shot.”
Jessica groaned as she moved to sit. “Makes me sound like a badass.”
Chrissy grabbed hold of her friend, and with every bit of strength she had pulled her back to her feet. She’d barely been up for half a second, when Chrissy yanked her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Jess.”
“What a beautiful sight,” Kosikov murmured sarcastically, “but what are you going to do now? Kill me?”
“You deserve it, you bastard,” Jessica spat as Chrissy worked on untying her restraints. “Selling me to some creep just to make some cash? You deserve to burn in hell.”
Saks leaned in and let his harsh whisper do the talking. “You don’t deserve to die.”
The wail of police sirens filled the air, and in Saks’ grasp the man struggled. He wasn’t about to let go, though, not with all of the damage he’d caused. He also couldn’t allow himself to think too much on the fact that it could’ve been Chrissy stepping out of that building. Had it been, the man may not have survived to make it to prison.
“Let go of me!” the man screamed as he flailed against the strength of Saks’ hold.
“Fuck you. You’re going to jail. For a very long time.”
Epilogue
Six Months Later
“Momma’s here!” Gloria bounded excitedly across the room in her excitement, nearly undoing the intricate up-do that had taken hours to get into place. The girls and the rest of the bridesmaids had spent the entire morning at the beauty shop getting their hair, makeup, and nails done, and not a second had gone by where either Chrissy or her sister hadn’t been graced with the brightest of smiles. Further into the back of the church they waited together, anxious to see the dresses their mother had created for the big day.
Chrissy couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s excitement. “You’re bad; all you want to do is see the dress.”
“Can you blame me? Momma wouldn’t show us the final version. Yes, I want to see it. And dresses, plural. The bridesmaids' dresses, too.”
“Ugh,” Chrissy muttered. “Like anyone can ever wear them again.” She’d been a bridesmaid one too many times, and never had the dress been something she could ever let see the light of day again.
“It doesn’t matter,” Gloria said with a wag of her finger. “Momma made them, and therefore you will love each one. It’s a daughter’s duty.”
Her sister spoke the last words so dramatically Chrissy imagined Gloria throwing her arm over her forehead, pretending to swoon. She probably would have, had she not been so busy running a hole in the carpet from her incessant pacing.
Chrissy’s phone pinged with a text message.
Saks: Can’t wait to see you.
Chrissy: We were only apart for one night.
Saks: You don’t know how close you came to that bachelorette party being crashed. There were a bunch of drunk Spawn who wanted to strip for the women.
Chrissy: Eewww. I’ll never be able to unsee that visual again.
Saks: Hey – I was one of them. Are you saying you wouldn’t want to watch me strip for you?