Defying the Odds (28 page)

“Clay, no!”

Another
pop
reverberated over the clang of slot machines.

Melody opened her eyes, feeling like she was caught in a nightmare when she blinked to see Clay charge Justin, who still held out the gun. Strangely fearless, Clay dived at him with raw rage that was terrifying. The sound their bodies made as they hit was ghastly, especially when Melody saw the crack of Justin’s head hitting the tile. Then Clay’s fist was driving into his face, and it was a horrible, bloody sight Melody wanted to look away from and couldn’t.

There was no referee to save Justin, and Clay’s punches were fast and vicious. Melody realized she was watching him beat Justin to death. She was just going to close her eyes against it when Wyatt skidded on his knees next to the fight and grabbed Clay’s fist midair.

“You got him!” Wyatt screamed, struggling to get Clay off Justin. “He’s out!
STOP!”

Wyatt threw his shoulder into Clay, physically throwing him off Justin. The two huge men landed hard on the tile next to Justin’s prone body. Wyatt wrestled with Clay, forcing him onto his back and shouting in that booming sheriff’s voice of his, “It’s over! Damn it, Clay! It’s fucking over!”

Melody wanted to believe it, and Wyatt’s speech had a grim certainty that was easy to believe when he used his lawman voice. She stopped watching the wrestling match between the two friends to look for the gun. She found it lying a few feet from Justin’s open, unmoving hand.

“That’s the difference between a technical knockout and a real one.” Romeo panted over her. “I think that fucker’s dead.”

She might have said something if she could breathe. As it was she grunted and pushed her elbow back against his chest. In the craziness, Romeo hadn’t exactly been gentle in his tackle, and she was feeling the full force of having a heavyweight crushing her to tile covered in broken glass. Romeo climbed off her, and Melody sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart was beating the hell out of her ribs. White spots were actually dancing in her vision from the adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream.

Melody was dizzy. She was likely bleeding because her knees and hands stung like they’d been ripped open. All she could think about was Clay. In that moment, her mind wasted very little time on Justin’s prone form. If he was dead, so be it.

She scrambled to her feet, her shoe catching on a wet spot and slipping. She
was
bleeding, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. The chaos seemed to suck back in on them. Before everyone ran away; now there were people everywhere. Men dressed in uniforms tried to grab her, but she pushed away from their help.

She ran to where Wyatt sat straddled over Clay. They were both breathing hard. Clay’s eyes were closed, his jaw clenched, but that wasn’t what she really saw. Instead she saw his torso, bared from Wyatt shoving his T-shirt way up. The broad expanse of his chest, his stomach, his shoulders were all coated in blood, and more seemed to be flowing out. Red stickiness gushed from beneath Wyatt’s big hands that were pressing hard, as if he could will the bleeding to stop with nothing more than strength and prayer.

“We need an ambulance.” Wyatt was panting, only now Melody saw it was sheer panic stealing his voice as he turned and looked wildly to the police officers crowding around them. His face was pale, his eyes wide and terrified. “He’s shot.”

“No!” Melody felt a cry come somewhere deep in her chest when Wyatt’s words hit home. She fell down on her knees next to Clay and stared at his face, which looked pallid and strained.
“Clay, no!
This isn’t fair!”

“Hey.” Clay’s eyes snapped open, and he reached out, grabbing Melody’s thigh through her dress. “I’m okay.”

Melody shook her head, feeling light-headed from the fear. Tears stung her eyes, and she was forced to squint. She’d lost her glasses somewhere along the way. The tears just made it harder to see him, and she fought against them. “I don’t think you’re okay.”

“We need an ambulance!” Wyatt screamed again, his big hands still pressing hard against the space between Clay’s shoulder and his chest. “Where the hell’s the ambulance?”

“I’m fine. It’s over now, and we’re
both
gonna
be fine.” Clay squeezed her leg once more. His touch anchored her against the noise and buzz of fear. People crowded around them, looking past the group of police and security with morbid curiosity. Melody made
herself
blind to everything but Clay’s dark eyes holding hers. She heard only his smooth, even voice as he said, “I promise.”

Melody reached out and grabbed his hand, still warm and strong. She squeezed it and whispered, “I believe you.”

“On a scale of one to ten—one being a normal human reaction and ten being the stupidest fucking thing you could possibly do—jumping at a guy who’s got a gun and a vendetta against you for doing his ex-wife has
gotta
be a twenty-nine.”

“Shut up, Wyatt. I’m sick of hearing
ya
bitch at me ’bout Vegas.” Clay stabbed at the ham on his plate, cursing the clumsiness of trying to eat with his left hand. “I’m done with this stupid sling. I don’t even need it.”

“But the doctors—”

“I don’t give a shit what the doctors said!”

Clay struggled with the sling. He pulled it over his head and knocked his cap off in the process. He tossed both to the bench next to him and then picked up his fork with his right hand. His shoulder ached with the movement, but after three days of eating with his left hand, he didn’t give a fuck.

“Melody’s
gonna
have your ass.”

“Probably,” Clay agreed, looking past the booth to see Melody at the counter, waiting for her order to come up. “I guess that’ll make us even. I’m not real thrilled she’s working just ’cause she promised Mary she’d cover her Christmas Eve shift. Her hands are still full of stitches.”

Wyatt winced. “How’s her shoulder?”

“Eh, it’s all right, not great.” Clay shrugged and took another bite of his dinner. “You know Romeo ’bout jerked her arm outta the socket. Doctor said she tore some muscles. It’ll probably ache for ages.”

“Did you really offer to be his training partner?” Wyatt asked with a dark scowl.

“Yes, I really offered to be his training partner.” Clay gave Wyatt a look, not understanding why it was such a shock. “I’m retiring. He needs to work on skill sets I’m strong in. There
ain’t
no
reason why he can’t use the Cellar for his training camp.”

“He’s got a criminal record.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Clay said with a laugh of disbelief. “We can’t all be Conner perfect.”

“I think his family’s mafia.”

“Why, ’cause he’s from New York?
You
gotta
stop watching those movies.”

“
I been
checking round. I got sources. This
ain’t
me being paranoid. I have legitimate facts, Clay,” Wyatt told him, his eyes narrowed with lawman intensity. “That boy’s got a rap sheet and a questionable family. I think you’re bringing organized crime right into the heart of Garnet by inviting him here.”

“Well, that
ain’t
my problem,” Clay said dismissively. “All I know is Romeo saved Mel’s life and if he needs a training partner, I’m more than happy to help him out. It’s the least I can do. Besides I don’t think Romeo or organized crime gives a rat’s ass ’bout Garnet even
if
there’s something fishy going on with him.”

“There is something fishy. I’m right ’bout this. Y’all are
gonna
be apologizing to me.”

“I’m ’bout over this conversation.
Ain’t
there laws being broken somewhere?”

“Probably.”
Wyatt sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. “Criminals don’t stop for Christmas.”

Clay snorted.
“Yeah, ’cause we’re so overrun with criminals round here.”

“It’s ’cause I do my job that we
ain’t
,” Wyatt snapped at him. “And it’d be nice if
ya
appreciated it.”

“Hey,” Melody said, glaring at their booth as she walked past with plates in both hands. “Where’s your sling?”

“Where’s yours?” Clay countered.

Melody huffed, rolling her eyes as she delivered dinner to the booth behind them. Clay wasn’t pleased she was working, but it was slow. Not many people were eating at Hal’s Diner on Christmas Eve. It actually reminded Clay of Thanksgiving, and he found himself feeling nostalgic as Melody stopped at their booth.

“You
gonna
buy me a piece of pie?” he asked her, giving her a grin he hoped distracted from the sling argument.

“I might.” Melody gave him a reluctant smile as she sat next to him in the booth. “How’s your dinner?”

“It’s good.” Clay held out his fork. “You want some?”

“I’ve been snacking in the back.” Melody accepted the fork and took a quick bite. She chewed her food, her eyebrows going up in surprise. “I’m not usually fond of yams, but these
ain’t
half bad.”

“
Ain’t
half bad at all,” Clay agreed. “I don’t know why more folks don’t just eat here on holidays. Better than dried up
ol
’ turkey and boxed stuffing.”

“Probably ’cause they got families.”
Melody laughed, taking another bite of his food. Then she glanced up at Wyatt, who was staring at the two of them with a look of revulsion on his face. “What’s got you looking miserable?”

“This really happened, didn’t it?” Wyatt asked, shaking his head as he watched Melody eat off Clay’s plate. “You two are
gonna
end up getting married and having a
buncha
babies and living happily ever after. I could puke.”

Melody choked. A hand flew to her chest as she looked to Clay with wide eyes.

“Don’t panic. He’s just being dramatic,” Clay said by way of explanation as he reached across the table and picked up Wyatt’s unused roll of silverware. “He does that sometimes. He thinks Romeo’s part of an organized crime family too.”

Melody laughed. “He does talk like one of those guys in the movies, but he’s sweet. I like Romeo.”

“Well, I guess.” Clay stabbed at another piece of ham with his new fork since Melody seemed intent on finishing off his yams. “He did save your life.”

“He did,” Melody agreed. “I got the sore shoulder to prove it.”

“Is it really bothering you?”

“It’s all right. I took an aspirin.”

“What about your hands?” Clay reached for her hand, still holding a fork, and studied it. She wore thin, black gloves to protect the still-healing stitches. “Why
dontcha
take these off.
Lemme
look at ’
em
.”

“They’re fine.” Melody turned to him, her eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you wearing that sling? I got a few cuts and a pulled muscle; you got a
bullet hole
in you.”

“It didn’t hit anything,” Clay said dismissively. “They dug it out, and I was fine.”

“It
coulda
hit something,” Wyatt reminded him. “It was a fucking miracle it didn’t. You wouldn’t be so bright-eyed and bushy tailed with a bullet in your heart.”

Clay felt Melody stiffen next to him, and he was tempted to reach across the booth and dent Wyatt a little—or a lot.

Instead he rubbed Melody’s leg through her uniform, squeezing her thigh to reassure her. “I’m okay, Mel. I’m healthy.”

She
nodded,
her eyes still wide beneath her glasses as she took a shuddering breath. “I know.”

“Soon as he gets outta the hospital, Justin’s going to jail for a long time.
He’s not coming back. It’s over.”

“What if you’d died?” Melody
whispered,
eyes still wide and horrified as she stared at the table unseeing.

“I didn’t.”

“What if he’d shot someone else trying to get at me?”

“He didn’t.”

“What if they let him off?” Melody lifted her eyes to him in concern. “What if he tries to hurt you again?”