The Billionaire's Assistant

Chapter 104

The gun clattered from Andy's hand, the first thing to hit the floor, and Kat dropped heavily after it, landing on her back from the 5 foot drop and hearing a horrifyingly indelible crack in her chest. Pain bloomed all over her across her as if she were comprised of it, and she opened her mouth in a noiseless gasp, unable to even clutch at the space where she felt her body being pulled apart.

She realized slowly, cumbersomely, that Andy never hit the ground. She attempted to focus her eyes, discerning cloudily that Andy dangled above her, that she was gripping onto the railing with two hands and kicking hard in an attempt to bring herself back over the top.

Kat heard Jove's voice as if in a dream, a nightmare. He was calling to her, running to her, but all she could see was Andy above her, making her gradual escape. She heard Jove's feet pounding down the stairs and she knew he wasn't after Andy, that she would have to be the one to handle that responsibility.

She let her head fall to the left and saw the black glint of the pistol, its handle angled towards her. She was only a few feet from the gun but she moved like an inchworm, barely able to scooch more than a few centimeters a second.

She was angling her good arm towards the gun, gasping in pain with each breath, each moment, but it was just coming into her reach. With an agonizing burst of effort she placed her fingers on the edge of the cool metal handle just as Andy disappeared over the side, running for the stairs. Jove finally came into her view, somehow kneeling beside her before she thought possible.

"Kat," he cried, his face a mask of pain. "Baby, you're ok, are you ok? Kat please be ok."

She'd never seen him like this and almost had the urge to laugh, laugh at how silly he was being. She was fine, did he not see that?

"Calm down," she tried to say, but realized that she couldn't speak, that her mouth wouldn't move when she wanted it to. She tried to reach for his hand, give it a comforting pat, but her own hand wouldn't respond.

"Kat," Jove was sobbing, then screaming into the phone, screaming addresses, directions, instructions.

She watched him as if he were on a tv screen, his tears seemingly melodramatic and unnecessary. She was fine. Didn't he know she was fine?

He was pulling something from her lips, the strips of fabric, she realized, and pressed her lips together, her mouth dry.

"Jove?" she breathed, and he looked down at her, hope crossing the fear.

"It's ok baby," he promised. "Don't try to talk. Everything's gonna be ok."

And with that promise Kat fell into a deeper sleep than she'd ever known, the pain coursing through her forgotten.