Billionaire Misery (15 page)

The driver got out. Her fingers were too numb to hold the gun, but somehow her legs were fine.

She staggered forward and the started to run as her legs realized what her mind already had.

The gun hung uselessly from her fingers and she saw, with pure joy, several people turn the corner and head toward them. Her shoulders hunched as she waited for the bullet.

It didn’t come.

She heard a car door open and then the sound of tires hitting the street. She sagged into a doorway, openly weeping. The people coming toward her stopped, backed away.

They turned and scattered. This neighborhood understood guns... or those who carried them.

Terrified and sure her attacker was coming back, she grabbed for her phone. Her fingers, coated in blood, couldn’t quite hold on to it. She slipped her bloody finger across the screen and the first number that came up was Morgan’s, the last person she’d called.

She dropped the phone. It clattered to the sidewalk and she fell to her knees. The pain was so intense she could barely breathe through it. Where had she been shot? It hurt everywhere.

She bent over, not sure if she would get back up again, but having to take that chance. She heard Morgan’s voice and with the last of her fading strength she cried out, “Help me! The agents were hitmen. I’m...” Her eyes scanned the street. “I’m on Third and Jackson. I’ve been shot. Damn it! I’m so sorry. I’ve been shot somewhere in my back. I can barely use my hands. I don’t know if I can hold him off if he comes back.”

“On the way,” Morgan said, “Get somewhere safe but close.”

She couldn’t move. Tears slid down her face. She climbed to her feet slowly, managing to get the phone up and in her hand. Her fingers began to spasm, and she knew she didn’t have long. Trying to put weight on her arms to use them had drained her strength, and she needed to try to find out where she was bleeding from, and staunch it quickly, but there was no way to see or tell.

Desperate and frightened, she looked for anyone but nobody was there. The only place to hide was behind a scaffold erected for construction half a block down. There was nobody there either, and the people who’d left her to die had also gone. She was going to die.

Shaking all over, her fingers dripping blood from the wound somewhere in her back, Jessie managed to get to the sparse cover. She sank into a shadowy corner and sat there, hugging her knees to her chest.

She’d been wounded before. She’d been betrayed, but this hurt far worse.

She’d trusted Fields, and he had set her up. Maybe Craig was already dead, or in a bus headed to a maximum security prison. Maybe his name was being sold to the highest bidder right now.

Craig.

She’d trusted the wrong person, and she was sure she’d cost him his life.

She heard the bikes, but fear kept her hiding. She peeked out, and when she saw the lead bike she was sure she was hallucinating from blood loss.

Craig?

Craig riding hell-bent for leather.

It couldn’t be.

She couldn’t stand. She couldn’t even speak. Her arms were useless and the pain in her back so vivid it was sending pain into the rest of her body, pain she could not even try to ignore.

He slung the bike against the curb and looked around. Morgan, Katie, and the others pulled up too. Morgan said something and a few bikes shot down the street, looking for her she was sure. She tried to stand, but couldn’t. She wanted to crawl but only managed to fall over. “Craig,” she whispered hoarsely, the world spinning and beckoning her to the blackness it offered.

Craig froze and spun around, instantly running toward the sound of her voice. Jessie sat, peeking around the scaffolding, her mind and heart at war with one another. It couldn’t be Craig; she was sure she was hallucinating even when he bent down, took in the situation with his cool hazel eyes and said, softly, “I’ll kill that bastard myself.”

“I’m sorry.” The words came out on a raw whisper.

Craig said, “The fuck you are. You saved my life. I got myself into that shit, and you devised the perfect way to get me out.”

“Fields is dirty...” her voice trailed off.

Craig shook his head grimly. “No, it wasn’t Fields. They killed him.”

Her mouth fell open.
What? When?

“It was a setup. I heard about Fields inside; even in solitary you hear shit.” He began moving, calling to the others, but Jessie couldn’t make herself concentrate.

Hurt filled Jessie. Fields had been a good man, and he hadn’t deserved to die. He’d done his best to protect her, and she’d thought he was dirty. She’d dishonored him. Tears leaked down her face. He was a good man.

Craig’s pace picked up; she must have said the words out loud. “Fields knew they were gunning for him; he told me so when he came to see me. He just didn’t tell me anything that would help me find you, or I would have gotten to you a lot sooner. He didn’t trust me, and I don’t blame him. We have to get out of here, and now, but it’s going to be hard, baby. I’m here with you now.” He shouted for Morgan, and between the two of them they managed to get her turned over. Craig’s hands probed along her back, and she cried out in pain.

A red booted foot came into view. The owner of the boot said, “She won’t make it to my house. That bullet’s deep. If it’s close to her spine and we make her ride, it could go right in and paralyze her before it kills her.”

Cold horror ran through Jessie. She was going to die right here on the street.

“She’s losing way too much blood.”

Craig, his voice hoarse, asked, “What do we do?”

“We have to stop the bleeding. Craig, give me your shirt.”

Jessie faded out of consciousness.

C
raig’s heart was throbbing painfully in his chest, and rage boiled up inside him.

Jessie lying there bleeding, broken, and frail was too much for his heart to take.

Fear swept through him. She couldn’t die. Not his Jessie. He loved her; he would do whatever it took to save her life, and whatever it took to keep her alive after this was over.

They’d both been too set on making sure the other didn’t suffer for what they had done, but, instead of keeping each other safe, their actions had put each other in harm’s way. That was over. From here on out it was them together against the whole goddamn world.

His heart nearly stopped when he turned her over and saw the huge amount of blood staining her blouse. He’d give his life for her if he had to, and he’d do it willingly.

Penny pointed to Jessie’s back, “Put your finger right here, Craig.”

He gulped. The hole was huge, pouring blood. “What if I move the bullet?”

Penny shook her head. “Don’t go deep. Just put it in there enough to stem some of that bleeding. We’ve got to get out of here, and fast, before whoever did this returns. I’m not a coward, but if they can take this woman out, they’re some tough bastards. They’ll be coming with back-up.”

Craig wanted to laugh. Jessie was as hard and strong as they came, and what Penny had just said was the highest compliment anyone could have paid her. Coming from Penny, who still thought Morgan was wet behind the ears, it was akin to being anointed by the high priest of bikes and biker life. Penny carried weight in this crew. Everyone knew it.

The gaping and ragged wound was terrifying. He stuck his finger into her flesh gently, gingerly. The blood welled up around his finger, but didn’t flow like it had been. Some small relief filled him.

They lifted her, five of them. They had to keep her perfectly still, and Craig felt panic threatening to overwhelm him when she thrashed a little before passing out again.

Clive had gone down the street and gotten a cab. The driver took one look and tried to floor it, but Clive reached through the driver’s open window, grabbed him by the shirt, and said, “No way, motherfucker. That woman was attacked in broad daylight and shot. You’re going to drive her to the fucking hospital or go to the ER with her, got it?”

The driver babbled, “Look, I don’t want no trouble...”

Craig and Morgan got Jessie into the car. She laid face-down in the backseat. Craig had never been so terrified in his entire life. If the car hit too many bumps...he’d had to remove his finger from the hole to get her into the car, and fresh blood ran down her back. Her face, what he could see of it, was a solid sheet of alabaster.

Penny crowded into the front and shouted, “Drive, damn it!”

Morgan and the others backed off as the car pulled away and headed to the hospital. With his free hand, Craig stroked Jessie’s soft and silky hair. She stirred, and whimpered. He whispered, “I got you. It’s okay. I got you.”

Did he? He wanted to curl around her protectively as the cab dashed toward the hospital. They were only blocks away, but would that be too far? How could he protect her once she was in a room and surrounded by people who may or may not have been on Wilkes’ payroll? Was this what Katie had felt when Morgan had gone down on his bike?

His vision went red. He was going to kill Wilkes, father or not. He was going to beat him to death if he had to. The bastard had nearly killed his Jessie.

Craig knew he was being hunted too. Killing him in an isolated cell had been impossible, but out here he was easily found. The whole situation felt surreal and almost frightening. Morgan and the others had dropped off and away, and he didn’t blame them. The last time they’d been in a hospital, they’d all wound up in jail for murder. He knew they’d be nearby, watching and waiting, and that lifted his spirits slightly as they pulled up in front of the rambling brick structure, and the driver uttered, “Look, forget the fare...”

Penny shook her head and said, “Dude, never say no to hard-earned money,” and handed over the fare and a nice tip while Craig raced in to try to get help.

* * 

C
raig paced the hallways for what felt like an eternity. If she died... he didn’t know what he would do. How the hell had Wilkes set the hit out on Jessie?

He had no answer to that question. His mind left it and went back to Jessie, down on an operating table just past the double doors that he kept going to and being shooed away from. He was on the verge of trying to find some scrubs and a mask and just walking into the operating room when the doctor came out. His face was gray with fatigue and his eyes red. Adrenaline shot through Craig. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in a month, and he probably should not have been operating on anyone at all.

“What’s going on?”

The doctor rubbed his face and then looked at Craig. “She has a deep gunshot wound. It was close to the spine. She had major blood loss, but the bullet must have ricocheted off of something before it went in. It was flattened, and though it tore through muscle it somehow missed her vital organs. We were able to retrieve it without injuring her spine. She stayed conscious long enough to tell me who she is and that the bullet was a ricochet from a hitman’s gun.”

Craig had no idea who they could trust. Jessie knew. Damn it!

“The police haven’t yet been notified because she’s a DEA agent working undercover. I’m guessing that the crazy things I’ve been seeing on the news might have something to do with all this.”

“Is she paralyzed or anything?”

“Her arms were almost paralyzed simply because of the location of the bullet. It was pressing against a lot of nerves. It’s out; the nerves are still alive. She’s going to be fine.” The doctor shook his head. “I’ve dealt with gun shots before. Never seen one this lucky.”

Craig shook his head. Probably calling the doctor an idiot wouldn’t be a good idea right now. “Can I see her?”

“I’m sending her to the fourth floor after a blood transfusion. She’ll go right by here and she’ll be left out here for about sixty second while the OR nurse who’s taking her signs off at that window down there.” He pointed. “There’s an elevator right there. It goes to a parking garage.”

Craig blinked. “It’s safe for her to leave?” Maybe the man wasn’t an idiot after all.

“Safer than staying here.”

“How can I trust you?”

The doctor ran a hand through his hair. “I had a son. His name was Joshua. Joshua Brentwood. Good kid. Until he got mixed up in with some equally good and equally stupid college guys. They took a few hits of some really bad drugs one night and they all ended up dead. I don’t care about her, or you. I care that nobody else loses their kid like that. I run a foundation designed to help take guns and drugs off these streets. You know who one of my biggest sponsors was every year? Blake Wilkes and his damn company! I was probably taking money from the very man who supplied the shit that killed my kid.”

“I could find out easily enough if that’s true,” Craig pointed out. He had to make sure the doctor wasn’t bluffing... or setting them up for a kill zone in the parking garage.

Dr. Brentwood chuckled. “Go ahead. Google should bloody do it. My kid died, and I owe a debt for that. If she really did help get Wilkes, I owe her. So, like I said, there’s a parking garage. Do what you want.” He turned and headed back for the operating room.

Craig whipped out his phone and did a careful check. It was true. Then he called Morgan.

J
essie woke up hours later. Everything hurt. It felt like her body was wrapped almost from head to toe in sterile bandages, and the ceiling above her was painted with tiny stars and murals of dogs and cats frisking about.

One thought surfaced.

What the hell?

She struggled to sit up and couldn’t. Someone stirred beside her and sat up.

Craig
. His eyes were red and swollen, and stubble coated his lower jaw. He managed a smile, though. “You’re at Red and Penny’s. They own a veterinary clinic. The whole crew’s here, guarding the property. Nobody’s going to take you down while we’re all here.”

Tears filled her eyes. This had been what she’d really been looking for all along, and she’d been too blinded by her need for revenge to see it. She’d missed having a family. She’d been missing that for so long that she had forgotten what it even was—until just that moment. “You should go,” she whispered. “I know I said that before. I really thought I could protect you by letting you go, and then I thought if I put you in as an informant I could protect you...”