Too Late
Page 77“He probably thought you were a whore, Sloan,” he says, grabbing my arm. “Can you blame him?”
Asa yanks me forward and I trip over the guy on the floor. Asa doesn’t let go of my arm as he drags me to my feet and yanks me toward the door.
My eyes are still closed. I think I might be screaming, because my throat is stinging, but I can’t tell if that’s me or the ringing in my ears. I’m suddenly lifted up into the air and thrown over his shoulder.
He carries me down the stairs and the last ten seconds replays over again in my head.
This is not happening.
Seconds later, he lays me down on a bed. I’m still too scared to open my eyes. Several moments pass and I can feel my chest pulling for air. I gasp between tears as Asa’s voice comes at me from inches above me.
“Sloan, look at me.”
I slowly open my eyes and look up at him. He’s kneeling over me on the bed, touching my face, smoothing back my hair. There are specks of blood on his face-across his neck.
I look into his eyes and his pupils have overtaken everything. Two huge black irisis stare back down at me and it sends a shiver over my already trembling body.
I don’t think my heart can take whatever it is he’s about to say. I’m afraid if I open my mouth to respond to him, I’ll puke.
“I know about you and Luke.”
My heart crashes to a halt at that name. I fight back the flood of tears attempting to return. He called him Luke.
How does he know his name is Luke?
I muster every ounce of strength I can find and I use it to play dumb. “Who is Luke?”
His eyes scroll over my face. His pupils contract and then expand again. A slow smile spreads across his face and then he presses his lips to my forehead. “That’s what I thought,” he whispers, pulling away from me. “It’s not your fault, Sloan. He brainwashed you. Tried to turn you against me. But his name isn’t even Carter, baby. It’s Luke. Ask him yourself.” He slips his hand under my back and pushes me up until I’m sitting on the bed.
I’m suddenly face-to-face with my worst nightmare.
Luke is sitting at a desk chair, his hands cuffed behind his back. The agony on his face speaks volumes of what he thinks about our predicament.
Asa is watching me, waiting for my reaction. I try to control it-to hide my fear, my heartache, my own agony. But knowing we’re both at the hands of Asa right now leaves little strength for pretending.
Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.
I repeat these words in my head while Luke speaks the same silent words to me with his eyes.
That’s what Asa wants. A reaction. I do whatever I can to not give him the one he expects. He’s standing now, so I look up at him with the most innocent expression I’m capable of right now. “Asa, what are you talking about? Why is Carter handcuffed?”
He stares down at me like he’s disappointed. Like he expected me to come out and say I knew Luke was undercover, or in the least, that I’m sleeping with him. He smirks. “You still think I’m stupid, Sloan?” His eyes slowly slide over to Luke. “So I guess it’s okay if I do this then, huh?” He lifts his gun and strides toward him, just like he did in the second before he shot the guy upstairs.
I immediately jump up, grab his arm and scream, “No! Asa, No!”
He doesn’t shoot him.
Instead, the hand that’s holding his gun swings around and hits me so hard, I fly back onto the bed. He didn’t even need me to admit what was happening between me and Luke. My reaction just gave it away.
I’m crying too hard to admit it. I’m crying too hard to deny it.
His entire face pulls into a grimace, as if he thinks this is the absolute worst thing that could possibly be happening right now. He just shot a guy upstairs, and he’s more upset that I might have cheated on him?
I turn my head to the side and squeeze my eyes shut.
This is it.
This is how I’m going to die.
Asa buries his head in the crevice of my neck and shoulder and mutters, “I can’t remember if I locked the door.”
When he crawls off me, I try to process what he just said, but it was so random and my pulse is racing too fast to process thoughts, I don’t even know what to think. As he’s walking toward the door, I turn my head to find Luke. His hands are cuffed behind his back around the desk chair. But he quickly stands, slipping his arms up and over the back of the chair, and then he sits down again, this time with his arms directly behind his back without the barrier of the chair. It all happens so fast, it takes me a second to realize that he’s not even cuffed to the chair.