Читать книгу The Deadline - KiKi Swinson - Страница 6

PROLOGUE

“And the nominees for Outstanding Coverage of a Breaking News Story are . . .”

I clenched my butt cheeks together and balled up my toes in my shoes so hard that they throbbed.

Kyle reached over and grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

I closed my eyes and waited to hear the results. My ears were ringing so loudly from my nerves that I didn’t hear anything until cheers erupted from the crowd.

“You won, twin! They just called your name! You won,” Kyle blurted loudly. He beamed with pride. It took me a few minutes to register what he was saying. He let go of my hand and helped me to my feet. My mouth hung open in a perfectly round O, and my legs were shaking so badly that my knees knocked together. I could barely catch my breath, and that instinctive right hand over my heart told the whole story.

“You have to go up there,” Kyle said, urging me into the aisle so I could walk onstage and get my award.

Kyle held on to me to make sure I could balance on my heels; I guess he could feel how hard I was trembling. He walked me up onto the stage. I stood frozen for a few seconds as I turned toward the spectators. Cheers arose. My cheeks flushed and the bones in my face ached from grinning. I deserved this Emmy Award. At least that was what the loud crowd was saying with their warm cheers.

I looked over at my brother and he wore a cool grin as I slowly unfolded the paper containing my speech. I wish I could’ve been as cool as he was in that moment. My hands shook, but I stuck out my chest and delivered the perfect speech to accept my award. The crowd clapped and cheered again as Kyle and I walked toward the stage exit.

“Wait right there . . . hold that pose!” a photographer called out. “Smile, you’re the winner,” he instructed, hoisting his camera to eye level to ensure he captured the exact moment. I was blushing and sure that my face would look like a cherry in every snapshot he took.

Kyle and I posed and turned to each other on cue. We capitalized on the opportunity to take this free twin-sister-and-brother photo shoot. The photographer’s flash exploded.

The bright lights sparkled in my eyes. It was truly the perfect day in my life.

“Walk slowly forward now,” the photographer instructed. When Kyle and I finally made it to the end of the picture area, I was bombarded with more photographers eager to snap photos with professional and personal cameras. Noticing the paparazzi, even Kyle waved like a star. I also flashed my best debutante smile.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the great reporter . . .” A tall man in a suit stepped into our path, clapping his hand on my shoulder. My smile faded and I bit down into my jaw.

“I didn’t think you’d go through with showing up here, all out in the public. We’re all proud of you back in Norfolk. You still got a lot of balls,” he said, smiling wickedly, the bright stage lights glinting off his one gold tooth.

He turned his attention to Kyle. “You can thank your sister for everything.”

I shivered.

“Ms. Mercer!” another photographer shouted, jutting his camera forward for a close-up. I twisted away from the man in the suit, happy for the distraction. Kyle and I hurried down the walkway, faking happiness so we didn’t make a scene. It didn’t last for long.

“Khloé! Khloé Mercer!” a male voice boomed.

My head jerked at the voice. Still smiling and faking like I wasn’t about to faint from fear, I turned to my right.

“You should’ve stayed the fuck out of the way! You fucked with the wrong people!” the voice boomed again. The source barreled through the crowd, heading straight toward Kyle and me.

“Gun! He’s got a gun!” a lady photographer screamed first.

“Oh, shit!” Kyle’s eyes went round as he faced the long metal nose of the weapon. Frantically he unhooked his arm from mine and stepped in front of me. Before he could make another move, the sound of rapid-fire explosions cut through the air.

The entire place went crazy. The hired security seemed to materialize out of the walls and began running at full speed, guns drawn. Things were going crazy. Photographers, cameramen, backstage staff . . . everyone was running in a million directions. Two of the security guards were picked off, falling to the floor like knocked-over bowling pins. Screams pierced the air from every direction.

Kyle’s body jerked from being hit with bullets. He was snatched from my side in an instant. I turned and watched as my brother’s arms flew up, bent at the elbow and flailing like a puppet on a string. His body crumpled like a rag doll and fell into an awkward heap on the floor, right at my feet. It was all too familiar.

There was no way I could lose my brother in this way. Not after everything. I stood frozen; my feet were seemingly rooted into the floor under me. This was just a bad dream. It wasn’t real. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs to breathe.

“Kyle!” I shrieked, finally finding my voice.

“Help!” someone yelled. “Call the police! Help!” More screams erupted around us.

The sounds of people screaming and loud booms exploded around me. I coughed as the grainy, metallic grit of gunpowder settled at the back of my throat. I inched forward on the floor next to Kyle. The floor around him had pooled into a deep red pond of blood. Everything was happening so fast. I blinked my eyes to make sure this was real.

“Kyle!” I screamed so loud that my throat burned. I grabbed his shoulders and shook them, hoping for a response.

“No!” I sobbed, throwing my body on top of his. I just knew I wasn’t out of danger. I knew who it was they wanted, and it was me.

More deafening booms blasted through the air.

I couldn’t think as I lay on the floor. The thundering footfalls of fleeing guests left me feeling abandoned and adrift. I lay next to Kyle, listening to his labored breathing.

“Why? How did we let this happen? How did we get here?” I sobbed. “How did this all happen?”

“Hey! You’ve got to get out of here,” a security guard huffed, pulling me up onto my feet. I was shocked to see that I hadn’t been hit. “Get out of here. Run as fast as you can and hide,” he instructed. He hurled demands as fast as his lips could spew them out.

“I . . . can’t . . . leave . . . ”

“I’ll take care of him as best I can, but it doesn’t make sense for you both to die,” the guard told me. “Now run!”