Earth Enchanted (8 page)

A weight he hadn’t known he’d carried was suddenly lifted off his shoulders. “That’s good.” He brushed the lightest of kisses over her wrists, drugging himself with the beating of her pulse. He thrilled as he felt his effect on her under his lips.

“Jack?” she questioned, but her mouth was already tilting up to meet his. Eyes were fluttering closed.

He lightly touched his lips to hers, barely even a whisper, but the earth seemed to tilt and fall out from under his feet. He couldn’t hear anything but the beating of his own heart and his own ragged breathing as he crushed her to him. He plundered her mouth, taking all she offered, demanding more than he could give, drowning in the taste even as he cursed himself for doing so.

* * * *

High on the roof of the restaurant across from the library, Shadow’s finger rested heavy on the trigger of his AK-47. From his rather interesting viewpoint he could see the Corrigan woman had taken the writer for a lover,
tacky little slut.
It paid to research your targets and their associates. It figured.
Oceans draw rivers.
Thinking back to the conversation with Gueraldi, he wondered why he’d taken the job.

“Shadow, I wish I could say it was pleasant, but our business is anything but. Make sure to do it in a public place. I want it to look random, but I’m sure Corrigan will still get the message.”

Shadow, as most who had acquired his services knew him, was a marksman for hire. “No kill shots?” he asked.

“No, try to exercise some amount of control, but make it bloody,” Gueraldi rasped into the phone. “Otherwise…”

He’d make sure of it. He was under contract after all, but she’d still suffer plenty. He craved the sound of bullets ripping into flesh and the agony of screams that followed, but either way he’d get paid. “Consider it already done. My usual fee?”

“Will be transferred upon completion.”

The line went dead.

Shadow had been following the woman for him since the day she touched down on American soil. He’d watched as she and the man got into the old vintage car outside her brother’s house. He let them get a couple lengths ahead, then followed
.

Now here he was, rifle sighted, perched alert like a damn squirrel. He might have been uncomfortable, but he was already lost in the hunt. Predator scented prey. He craved blood, waited to taste the kill. Disgraceful, he complained silently, climbing all over him in public, a man she’d only met a few days ago. He just needed a clear shot. It was all he was waiting for. He could have killed the writer first, but he didn’t work for free. The writer had his back turned to him, blocking his view of the woman. Then his good luck came through. They broke apart. He checked and reloaded the clip. Sighted and took the shot.

* * * *

Jack’s head reeled when he stepped back to look at her. It was different, something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “My God, Liv, what the hell was that?” Her eyes were still shuttered, her face flushed. She didn’t answer. She probably hadn’t regained a working brain cell to come up with one yet; he barely had. He decided to kiss her again and answer his own question. Something clicked. Something inside him he thought he’d buried.

Danger. It wasn’t coming from the woman he still held, at least not all of it. He watched her pale at the flash coming from the building across the one way street. Even as she shouted, the shot rang out. Instinct made him knock her to the ground, using his body as a shield.

Jack grunted as the bullet struck him in the shoulder. Another shot sounded and struck the tree just above Liv’s head, splintering the wood and slicing her forehead.

“Liv, stay down. Are you okay?” He shook her.

She didn’t say anything, only stared at the trees and their unseen assailant. Why? Who? Visions of red hair and white silk scored his mind. He’d be damned if he’d let another woman die because he hadn’t been fast enough. “Unless you’re dead or unconscious, you’d better say something.” Fear and pain added the heat to his words.

Her voice shook, but she said, “I think so. Why is someone shooting at us?”

“I don’t know. We’ve got to get out of the open.” He didn’t need to look to know there was very little ground cover. Their only chance was to run for it.

“How are we going to do that?”

Jack had a plan, a bad one. He felt helpless, no gun, no badge, not even a cellphone to call 911 and report the shots fired. Of course the damned phone would be in the car. His shoulder burned like hellfire, but he was going to try really hard not to think about it. He didn’t have another choice. Her only chance at survival was his training. He had to stay calm. Running now on pure adrenaline and fear wasn’t making it easy. Even if he didn’t make it, she had to live; right now nothing else was as important to him as that.

“I want you to listen real close, Liv. Do exactly what I say. If we can get through that stand of trees it cuts straight back to the curb. I want you to roll over and crawl real low, until I say. I’ll keep you covered. Go, now.”

Liv took a deep breath.

“Jack, don’t let me die.”

* * * *

Liv did as she was told, crawled and prayed. She was surprised the gunman didn’t take another shot at them. After all, they were sitting ducks. As soon as she took off running, he fired again. Shots pinged off the old lampposts and the old large oak tree beside the library. Ducking, Liv tried to avoid the flying debris. Shattered tree bark struck her face and hands, cutting through tender flesh. Covered in blood, she prayed to God she wasn’t going to bleed to death. She and Jack pounded through the trees, tiny missiles of wood flying everywhere. Finally her feet struck the welcome concrete of the parking lot behind the library, out of sight of their assailant.

She didn’t question him when he tossed her the keys. “You’ll have to drive. I hope you can handle her.”

Screeching tires, she had the pedal to the floor when she heard him groan beside her. “Jack, what is it?” A sideways glance showed her the blood wasn’t coming from her. Her heart sunk to the pit of her stomach. He’d been shot trying to protect her. He didn’t make a sound, just handed her a phone out of the glove box with his left hand.

“Call nine-one-one.”

Liv gripped the steering wheel one handed as she spoke to the operator calmly in a pitiful effort to fight off the panic. Jack sat beside her all stoic and macho, bleeding to death. Because of her, but who would want her dead? She knew she was the target. The shooter had plenty of opportunity to kill Jack, but he had waited until she was in sight, then had only fired again to frighten them. Well, it worked. She was plenty frightened.

“You’re hurt, Jack. How bad is it? God.” Terror edged its way back and hysteria wanted to move right in.

“Don’t know. I’ll be okay, Liv, but if you panic I’m only gonna have half as much a chance.” He reached out with his good hand and touched her cheek. “Stay with me and we’ll get through. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a bullet. There will probably be another, though I can’t say that I’ll look forward to it.”

She let it go for now. What else could she do? She focused on the road and tried not to look at him. Liv screeched up to the emergency doors. She jumped out of the car and ran around to his side to help him.

Hospitals.
The smells and sounds of those who were fighting to live, those who were begging to die, she hated them. Coffee had gone too stale to energize the tired staff. She gave them points for being able to handle the job day in and day out. The pretty nurse who had taken Jack away asked her have a seat in the waiting area. He had been alive when they had reached the hospital, she held on to that, but he had been unconscious, so much blood lost. That had been three hours ago.

She sat in the plastic salmon colored chair and stared at the door the man she loved had gone into. How could so much happen in barely three days?
I love him.
Nothing else mattered. Remembering their kiss only a short while ago, it had been like no other she’d experienced. The sea had roared in her ears, she thought, but the sound was so familiar it was a homecoming. Liv hadn’t been able to ignore the colors spiraling around and through her, recognizing them as magic. She had found what she’d waited for all of her life. Liv needed no more than that one meeting of lips to know. It was as if her heart had said, “Oh, well there you are finally.” Still, that same heart was breaking even as she silently surrendered it to him. He would claim it and keep his for someone out of reach. What would she do if he didn’t make it?

All her thoughts and prayers focused on that door; she begged for his life to be spared and sent her thoughts out to him.

Alone in the room except for an old woman sitting by herself with her hands in her lap, she watched as a doctor went toward the woman. Liv took one look at his face and knew. His eyes seemed years older than he should have been, like they didn’t quite match his face. Liv heard him recant the same line he’d probably told others.
I’m sorry.
We did all we could but I’m afraid he passed away.
With a swish of his lab coat and the squeak of his tennis shoes on the newly disinfected floor, he walked away. The old woman sobbed across the room. After a while she stood and dried her face with a handkerchief, and walked past her.

“Ma’am,” Liv addressed her as she passed. “I’m sorry for your loss. Could I phone someone for you?”

The woman shook her head. “No, young lady, but it was kind of you to ask. There’s no one. He was my only family, my husband.” Fresh tears rolled as she remembered. “I saw your young man when he was brought in. I’ll pray for him.”

Liv swallowed the hot ball in her throat. “Thank you.”

As she started to walk away, she turned and said, “Love is precious, just like life, don’t waste either and in the end you’ll have no regrets when yours is over.”

Her heart froze in her chest when another doctor, still in scrubs, came toward her. “Mrs. Roarke?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m Olivia Corrigan. Jack Roarke is a friend of mine. I brought him in. Is he all right?”

“Mr. Roarke came through with flying colors. He was lucky that the bullet passed through his shoulder without serious damage. He’ll be coming out of recovery soon.”

“Can I see him? I have to see him.” If she could see him she’d know it was going to be okay.

“Normally I can’t allow visitors, except in the instance of family members.”

“Please, I won’t disturb him. I just need to see for myself.”

“I’ll see what can be arranged.” He made his exit while a middle-aged couple walked up to the desk, hands clasped tightly together, distracted her attention. They insisted something to the nurse, who waved them in Liv’s direction. As they came toward her, she noted the woman was barely holding up. The man’s eyes were flat and controlled, cop eyes, and trained on her. Since Jack’s parents were dead, she wondered who they were and how they knew him.

“Excuse me, are you the young woman who brought in Jackson Roarke?”

She nodded, then straightened and offered her hand.

He never blinked, but the woman nearly fainted on the spot at the sight. Jack’s blood.

“Yes, I’m Olivia Corrigan, a friend of Jack’s. Are you related to him?”

The lady shook her head.

“No, but we are close friends. I’m Captain Sam Berringer, Miss Corrigan, and when you’re up to it, I’ll have to get a statement from you. This is my wife Eleanor, Jack’s editor. Ellie, why don’t you wait here and I’ll see what I can do.” He walked to the nurse’s desk, flashed his badge, and was immediately escorted back.

“I’ve heard a little about you from Jack, Olivia. May I call you Olivia?”

Liv nodded her head.

“His mother and I go back a ways. When Jack was on the police force, he served under Sam. His dad was Sam’s partner for a long time. I want to know who did this to him and why.”

So that was where the authority had come from. He had been a cop, maybe he still was.

“With due respect Mrs. Berringer, I think it was meant to be me who was shot.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow at her. “What makes you think that?”

Liv carefully replayed her theory in her mind. “The shooter must have been waiting for us, or maybe he followed us, because he didn’t take a shot the whole time we were outside the theatre. We were right in the open and um…” She blushed when she remembered. “Caught off our guard. The shooter waited until I was in plain sight, and only then fired at me. If Jack hadn’t known somehow and knocked me down, I’d be lying in that hospital bed instead of him. I wish I knew why someone would want me dead.” Liv buried her face in her hands and forced back the urge to cry. It wouldn’t do any good now. Tears would solve nothing. Someone had tried to kill her. She was sure of it. They hadn’t succeeded and that meant they would try again. Who might be in the way next time? Ryan? Some hapless passerby on the street?