Borrowed Identity (27 page)

“Where do you think you’re going?” Michael asked. “You wanted to kill me. Here I am.”

“No,” Kelly cried. “Michael, stop. I don’t want you dead.”

“Shut up,” Landis shouted. “Let him talk. He’s going to die, anyway. Like his brother. Like a dog.”

“You aren’t leaving this house with her,” Michael said.

Landis dragged her past the tall arched window.

Kelly suddenly twisted in the killer’s arms.

Landis was obviously unprepared for the attack. Surprise registered on his face. He tried to regain control—too late.

She kicked out with her foot and sent Landis’s gun flying. Then her body went down. She hit the ground with a grunt and rolled to the side before Landis could grab her again.

Michael pointed the gun at the place where the killer’s heart would be—if the man had a heart. Michael’s finger tightened on the trigger. Landis was the bastard who had killed his brother. Michael desperately wanted to kill him, but first he wanted answers.

“How did you kill Jimmy?” he demanded.

“I bashed his head in with a hammer.” Landis shrugged. “I know it isn’t my usual way. I was going to shoot him, but I did not realize the woman was drugged. I didn’t want to wake her. There was a hammer nearby. I used it.” Landis laughed, taunting Michael. “He begged for his life. It was pathetic. He cried like a woman. You should thank me for killing him. He was nothing but a bug under my foot.”

“You knew he wasn’t me.” The gun in Michael’s hand started shaking. “I wouldn’t have begged for my life. You knew he wasn’t me before you killed him, and you still did it.”

“Yes.” Landis smiled, his black eyes dancing with madness. “That’s right. I killed him for the pure pleasure of it.”

With a shout of fury, Michael dropped his gun and launched himself at Landis. He hit the other man square in the gut. They flew through the window behind Landis, landing hard in the snow. The soft powder exploded around them.

Michael struggled for the advantage. He tumbled Landis onto his back, but then Landis flipped him over. They rolled across the snow-covered flagstones, battling for the upper position. The position of power.

Kelly’s terrified scream barely registered.

Michael used the strength of his legs to shove the man away from him, sending Landis flying backward, sailing through the air. He landed on the ground with a loud grunt of pain.

Michael struggled to his feet and charged like a bull.

Landis threw a handful of snow into his face.

Michael staggered. Painful grit made his eyes water and burn, obscuring his vision. He quickly swiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands, trying to get a visual on his enemy.

Landis swung a heavy fist.

It connected with Michael’s jaw. His head snapped backward. Blood rolled down his chin.

Michael hit Landis in the face and in the stomach, then jumped into the air, executing a perfect karate kick that Landis blocked like an expert.

From the corner of his eye, Michael saw Kelly run out of the house with a gun in her hand. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Landis long enough to see if she had his gun or the enemy’s. He wanted to yell at her to get her butt back inside just in case he lost and Landis decided to make good on his threats against her.

In that split second, Michael was distracted.

Kelly screamed a warning, but it was too late.

Michael took a hard fist to his cheekbone. He stumbled, almost losing his balance completely. Landis took advantage, swinging his legs out and knocking Michael off his feet.

The two men struggled, trading blows.

“Move away from him!” Kelly yelled.

T
HE MEN ROLLED ACROSS
the snowy flagstones, tumbling so fast that Kelly couldn’t aim the gun. They shuffled positions again and again, one man on top, then the other. Kelly grew dizzy watching them. She didn’t want to accidentally shoot Michael. She would rather die herself than hurt him.

She held the gun tightly in both hands. Her finger trembled on the trigger. “Move away from him,” she repeated.

Landis heard her, too. He made certain he didn’t stay in one position for more than a split second.

Kelly lowered the gun. She desperately tried to think of a way she could help Michael without putting him into more danger.

Turning the gun around, she launched herself at Landis. She straddled him from behind and hit him repeatedly with the butt of the weapon.

He swatted at her, knocking her off.

Kelly landed on the ground and struck her head. Pain lanced through her skull and her vision blurred for a second.

Michael stood, gripping the other man’s shirt in his hands. Spinning around, he tossed Landis against the side of the house headfirst. The other man slammed against Moore House and fell like a stone.

Kelly held her hand out to Michael. He grasped it and pulled her to her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she smiled. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that. Are you crazy? What pos
sessed you to run out here and physically attack a man twice your size? You could have been killed!”

“We both could have been killed. I think that’s the point.” She nodded at Landis’s seemingly lifeless body. “What are we going to do about him?”

“I’m going to tie him up,” Michael said. “You are going to go inside and give Paddy a call. Tell him to send a squad car.”

She squeezed his hand before releasing it. They had won. Finally, the dark cloud that had hung over their lives was gone. There was just one thing that worried her. Would Michael walk out of her life forever?

Maybe if she told him she loved him he would stay. They came from different worlds, but if there was a chance they could work it out, didn’t they owe it to themselves, to each other, to try?

Kelly turned slowly, a smile firmly in place.

Michael was looking at her with a questioning gaze.

Behind him, Landis shot to his feet, the gun magically materialized in his hand. As he raised it, time seemed to switch into slow motion, but still moved too fast for Kelly to scream a warning.

She didn’t have to. Michael’s brows drew together in a frown as he read her expression. He turned around.

A loud explosion ripped through the air.

Michael jerked as he was hit in the chest. His hands went to the wound, catching the blood. He turned slightly on one foot, disbelief on his handsome face.

“Run!” he ordered.

The word was barely audible over the crashing sound of the blood in Kelly’s ears.

She raced forward, catching Michael in her arms as he fell. They both tumbled to the ground. High-pitched screams filled the air; Kelly didn’t realize they were coming from her. Her soul had detached from the rest of her body, aban
doning her. She watched the scene play out from somewhere just beyond reality.

Landis smiled and winked at her, then aimed the gun. She braced herself for the impact of the bullet, sure she wouldn’t be able to feel it. If Michael died, so would she. It was as simple as that.

Landis did a strange dance. He collapsed, a look of surprise in his black eyes. The gun fell beside him. He landed facefirst in the snow.

Kelly tugged at Michael as someone tried to take him away from her. She yelled at the angel of death, refusing to release Michael into its greedy arms.

“Let me see him!” Paddy shoved her out of the way. He laid Michael on his back and ripped his shirt open, exposing the bullet hole.

Blood flowed from the wound.

Paddy removed his own shirt and wadded it up. He put a mound of snow on Michael’s chest, then put the shirt over it. He grabbed Kelly’s hands, placing them over the bloody mess.

“We’ve got to stop the bleeding. The ice might freeze the blood. It’ll give us time to get him to the hospital,” Paddy shouted. “Push down! He’s going to die if we don’t stop the bleeding. Snap out of it, dammit!”

Kelly steeled herself against the sight of Michael lying helpless at her knees. She did as Paddy ordered, pushing as hard as she could. She lifted her face and shut her eyes. Snowflakes fell on her cheeks.

Paddy grabbed his cell phone and called for an ambulance.

Kelly couldn’t do anything but pray as she watched Michael’s lips turn blue.

She was losing him.

“D
ON’T YOU LET HIM DIE
!”

Was that Kelly shouting at the top of her lungs?

Who was she yelling at? It didn’t make sense. His angel didn’t scream. She was sweet and patient, loving and kind. He wanted to hold her hand, but couldn’t find it in the darkness. He wanted to ask her to please stop shouting. Her voice, although lovely, was plunging into his sweet dreams, pulling him back into a painful world.

His chest was on fire.

Michael forced his eyes open.

Lights rushed by his face, one melding into the next. He saw shadows hovering nearby. Kelly was among them. He was sure of it, but he couldn’t reach her. She floated over him, around him. Her voice found him even though her hand didn’t.

He wanted to ask the people who were dragging him down the never-ending corridor to stop, but he couldn’t speak. They were taking him away from Kelly.

“Michael, you’re going to be okay,” she said. “I promise. Just hold on. Don’t leave me.”

Where did she think he was going? He wasn’t planning on leaving her. Why would he? She was his world. But he heard the insecurity in her voice. If he could, he would tell her how important she’d become to him. In their short time together, she had gotten under his skin and into his blood. He could no more leave her than he could stop breathing.

He smiled, allowing the darkness to suck him under again.

K
ELLY HAD DRIVEN
like a maniac all the way to the hospital, praying she would get him there in time. She almost got the truck stuck twice. Luckily, Wade owned a monster, with the biggest wheels she’d ever seen. Once they made it to the hospital, she pleaded with the doctor to save the only man she’d ever love. Losing Michael would rip a hole through her life, dead center. She needed him.

At first she had resented the feelings Michael stirred within her. She didn’t want to rely on anyone, especially not someone she’d known for only a week. Was it possible to fall in love in such a short time?

Yes, absolutely.
She silently answered her own question.

Michael was the most wonderful man. If she had been handed a catalog of male parts and told to assemble the perfect man, he would have been Michael Taggert, without a doubt. He was not only an incredible male specimen physically; he was just as good on the inside.

Paddy approached with two coffees. He handed her one before sitting beside her. His warm eyes settled on her face, and he smiled at her. His hand covered her own, and he patted it.

“Honey,” he said, “relax. Michael will be fine. He’s young and strong.”

“I know. I keep telling myself that.”

“You love him.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Kelly wondered if it was written on her face. Paddy was the second person to tell her she was in love with Michael. Did everyone know? Was she that obvious?

Paddy asked, “Have you told him? Does he know how you feel?”

“He knows.” Her voice came out quiet, barely audible to her own ears. “I’m sure he knows.”

“He loves you, too.”

Her eyes misted over. Yes, he loved her. He had told her he loved her. She could still hear the quiet desperation in his voice. She had hurt him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried not to cry. Somehow she was going to make it all up to him. As soon as he was on his feet again she would tell him she loved him, and beg him to forgive her. She would be a good wife to him, if he would have her.

“It was my fault,” she said. “I was the one who carried the gun outside.”

“You didn’t shoot him. Landis did.”

“You saved my life.” Kelly placed a hand on Paddy’s weathered one and asked, “How did you know to show up when you did?”

“It was your friend Wade. We ran into each other, almost literally. I was on my way to your house, anyway. I wanted to have a talk with you and Tag.”

“What about?”

“I wanted you two kids to wise up and admit you have feelings for each other. Life is too short.” He nodded to the doors that led to the operating room. “As you can see. When you have a chance at happiness, you take it.”

“Things are complicated,” she said.

“How so?”

“I have scars.” She blurted the words out before she could restrain her tongue.

Paddy appeared taken aback by the news. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and she realized he hadn’t known. Michael hadn’t told him.

“Well,” he said, “we all do. We all have scars of some sort. Don’t we?”

“Mine are on my arms. It’s a long story. The short version is I was burned by scalding water when I was twelve. I hate it when people stare at me and feel sorry for me or make fun of me, so I hid out at Moore House. For years… How could Michael live a life with me?” she asked. “I’m afraid to go out in public.”

“You’re in public now.”

“Yes, but my arms are covered.”

“You stood up to those nurses and that snooty doctor. I saw and heard the whole thing. That was something to watch. I think you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said.

“I do. That wasn’t a shrinking violet I saw dealing with the medical staff.”

“Those were extraordinary circumstances. I was worried about Michael.”

“Answer me this. When was the last time you walked around in public with your burns showing?” Paddy asked. “How old were you the last time someone made you feel bad because of your scars?”

“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and tried to think back. “I guess I was a teenager in high school. My father made me wear short sleeves. He wanted me to confront my fears.”

“And?”

“It was horrible. I cried almost every night.”

“What about after that?” Paddy asked, “What changed?”

“I became an adult. My father couldn’t make me dress a certain way anymore, so I wore long sleeves. I didn’t go out much. After he died, I moved back into Moore House.”