Long Live the Rebel

by E L Irwin

  Surreptitiously, I slid my left hand behind me and gripped the pistol, standing with it hidden against my side. My mind ran through all that Ryler had taught me. I knew that I’d have no problem harming another person, like I’d feared previously.

  Because I was going to kill Amber.

  My heart pounded in my chest, making me dizzy. Swaying for a moment, I took a deep breath before righting myself. Ryler needed me. I could do this, just like he taught me. My eyes focused on Amber, trying to make my face calm and friendly. I offered her a small smile. Then, even as I walked through each step in my head and reminded myself to remain calm, I moved. Before she could react, before she could even register what I was doing, I raised the gun and shot her in the chest. I pulled the trigger in smooth, rapid motions.

  Repeatedly.

  We were little more than two yards apart. I couldn’t miss. Her body flew backward into the couch and jerked with the impact of each bullet. When I was sure she was no longer moving, that she was dead, when I’d mastered myself and was in no danger of passing out, I stumbled forward and kicked the gun she’d dropped away from her, before scrambling for Ryler. Dropping to my knees at his side, I reached for him. He was unconscious and pale. So pale.

  My heart hammered as I felt for a pulse. It was there, but faint. Sobbing in thankfulness, I ran for the phone and dialed the paramedics. It seemed an eternity before the ambulance arrived. During that long wait, I talked with Ryler, told him how much I loved him, that we were safe now and that I needed him. I begged him not to die. I kissed him over and over again and lay beside him, trying to keep him warm.

  Just as I heard the sirens, Ryler gripped my hand in his, my name a whisper on his lips.

  EPILOGUE

  The conference room at the Hotel del Coronado was packed. Not quite standing room only, but pretty close. The line just from my table stretched all the way to the doors. The noise from the various venders, authors, and fellow book fanatics was close to a dull roar. A little overwhelming but fun, too. I smiled, shook hands, posed for and took pictures with fans, and signed each book, poster, t-shirt, bag, or bookmark presented to me. And though there was plenty to keep my mind busy, all the while my thoughts wandered. Hopefully, no one noticed. I just had so much on my mind.

  Like yesterday, when I’d arrived back in Coronado. Leslie had picked me up at the airport in the morning. In her arms she’d held a bouquet of roses, and her face had been streaked with tears. She’d been an emotional mess these last several weeks and had just been so relieved I was all right and that things were over. We’d hugged for several long minutes.

  Harley had been unable to get off work to meet me, but we’d made plans to get together later for dinner to talk about her exciting news. Harley and Kevin were engaged. Engaged. Boy, that had been a shock. Not an unpleasant one, just… just one I hadn’t been expecting at the time. We’d laughed and cried and squealed in our excitement.

  The noise had become louder as Harley flashed her ring finger at me, and I’d seen the pretty diamond on display there. “Whaaaaaat? Are you for real?” I’d cried as I took in the beautiful ring. Then, looking at them both had said, “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

  “Told you she’d be angry with you.” Harley had elbowed Kevin.

  “Forgive me, shorty?” Kevin had asked, his face radiant as he looked toward his future bride.

  “Yeah, totally. But you should have asked!” I’d joked good-naturedly.

  It still brought a tear to my eye to think about it. My girl Harley was engaged. My heart just swelled at the thought, at the memory.

  The other authors here and I had been at it for the last three hours at least. I was hoping for a break soon, at least just to pee and freshen up. I’d have to ask Leslie when she returned with another box of t-shirts, one of many that I’d shipped down last week before this weekend’s conference. Leslie had contacted me close to a month ago to see if I’d be up to doing a signing for the Southern California Book Fest. As it was the middle of January and Sequim was cold and wet, I’d jumped at the opportunity, nearly crying over the thought of warm sand and sunshine.

  Glancing at my phone to check the time, I spied Ryler’s image and smiled. I had to keep my laughter silent as I remembered my autocorrect faux pas from the night before. Stupid, stupid autocorrect.

  Ryler was mostly healed now. We both were. My ribs ached occasionally, but not too bad. Ryler’s shoulder was still sore, but he did his best not to show it. The bullet had lodged against his collarbone and had required surgery to repair it. Thankfully, no major damage had been done. Just blood loss and torn muscle tissue. Though he was healed for the most part, he’d opted to stay behind in Sequim. And while I was disappointed because I missed him so much, I understood. I didn’t push the point. The man had earned his privacy and a rest. Not that he rested much, despite what the doctors instructed. Still, I missed him. I missed the sound of his voice, the way he smelled. I missed his arms around me. I just missed him.

  And the sad thing? I’d only been gone for two days. I’d be gone for a total of seven days, though. Ah, well. But last night, last night I’d been attempting to send him a text, just trying to tell him that I loved him. This morning however, I awoke to Ryler’s reply.

  “I like every you?” he’d asked.

  Confused, I’d texted back, “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s what you sent to me.”

  “Whaaaaat?”

  Then I’d looked at my text. Sure enough, autocorrect had struck again. Somehow, as I’d typed the words, “I love you” into my phone, it had corrected itself to say “I like every you.” What does that even mean? I’d texted Ryler back, laughing to myself the entire time, and explained what had happened. I still hadn’t heard back from him, but as I said, he liked to stay busy. He was probably working and would get back to me later.

  Several more people came through my line, all of them kind, wonderful, generous people. I really did have some of the best readers on the face of the planet. Blessed was putting it mildly. Though, I wouldn’t deny that my shoulders were a little tight with apprehension right now. I tried not to let it get to me, tried not to think about it, but I couldn’t help it as the events with Paul came to mind.

  Paul — what a twisted, sick man. He’d been a twin. His twin sister, Amber, had died just after childbirth. The family had never received counseling for their grief, and as Paul grew up, his mind had basically splintered, especially as his mother had lamented long through his childhood that she’d wished her daughter had been the one who’d lived. Wished that he had died instead. Who says that to her own child? And his dad, his dad had been useless. He’d drunk away his pain and eventually his family as well.

  I learned all this well after the shooting from the detectives handling the case. And, while I felt sorry for what he’d gone through, I refused to allow myself to feel guilt over the fact that I’d shot and killed him. He’d made those choices, not me. Besides, there was nothing I could do about it now anyway. Paul had set everything in motion, bringing us to the point we had reached. He’d chosen to make it a kill or be killed kind of situation. I’d wanted to live. I’d wanted Ryler to live. Though, I wondered if this might not have somehow been his silent scream for help. Wondered what signs had been missed down through the years in his life.

  Thinking about Paul and the messed-up life he’d been forced to live brought to mind my issues with my own mother. While she’d never done anything like what Paul had gone through, I had to acknowledge the pain she had inflicted, not just on Jake, but on myself as well. A part of me was honest enough to understand where she’d been coming from, what her desire had been. As angry as I was with her, I couldn’t convince myself that what she’d done had been out of a malicious heart and mind.

  Three weeks ago, I’d tried to make amends, to at least begin to try and repair what was left of our relationship. She’d wanted no part of it. Mom felt that I’d chosen Jake over her. She even refused to accept
that I was staying in Sequim now, and, in the course of our conversation, somehow, I’d ended up the bad guy, and she the victim. It boggled the mind how she managed to do that. I’d like to say that we eventually worked things out, but that would be a lie.

  Mom refused to listen, refused to apologize for her part in what had happened. Other than a flippant, “Well, I’m sorry! But he did things, too,” she’d offered no other words to indicate that she regretted her decisions. She blamed me for the attack from Paul. Said that none of this would have happened had I just stayed in Florida with her. Had I just had a real job instead of writing make-believe all the time. It was at that point that it really hit me that we may never have a healthy mother-daughter relationship. I couldn’t fathom what her fears were, what she wanted from me, but something was there preventing anything positive from growing. Something about me that just ruffled her feathers.

  I decided then that I no longer wanted to ride that emotional rollercoaster. It wasn’t healthy. Not for her. Not for me. So, I said goodbye. I told her I loved her, and I said goodbye. And then Ryler held me as I cried over the loss. The realization. Maybe someday in the future, if she got some help, maybe we could try again. But not the way things were right now. Not like this.

  Bringing my focus back to the event at hand, I had to give Leslie all the credit. She had given the event staff specific directions about how I liked my display to look, so other than greet the readers, I’d had nothing really to do to prepare. But, she was good like that. She knew me so well. My table was perfect. Truly, this had to be one of the best events I’d been to in a long while.

  Leslie had stayed beside me, acting as my assistant basically the whole time. And as she sat back down beside me, the box of t-shirts I was giving away in hand, I said, “Wow, this is insane! I’ve never seen a crowd like this one. Have you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “But I think a lot are here because of what happened, you know. You were in the news quite a lot over the whole thing. People can be morbidly curious.”

  Not knowing what to say to that, I just remained quiet, greeting the next fan to come to my table.

  Thirty or so minutes later, as I was posing for a picture with a couple of sisters, I heard a gasp and a small commotion come from the back of the line. The crowd was still too thick to really see what had happened. I hoped no one had fallen or anything. My heart skipped a beat as another thought entered my mind. What if… what if something bad was happening? What if — No. Paul was dead, and he was never coming back. I tried to calm myself as I watched people turn away from me to see what was hidden by the close press of bodies. I was tempted to stand up to see what the problem was. Reminding myself once more that Paul was dead and I was safe now, I remained seated and waited for the next reader to step forward. But then the crowds parted, and I saw him.

  Shiv trotted toward me, all healed from his injuries when he’d crashed through the door in Ryler’s room trying to get to Ryler or alert someone of our need for aid. He’d had three large gashes from the glass and several shards had needed to be dug out of him. It had been touch-and-go with the big hound, but thankfully, he’d pulled through. My heart and mind had refused to even consider what it might have done to Ryler if Shiv hadn’t made it. The vet had said if we hadn’t found him when we did, he’d have lost too much blood. I thanked God over and over again, that I’d had the mind-frame to remember Shiv as the ambulance drove us off to the hospital and had told Chief to find him.

  And now, as he moved toward me, tail wagging and a giant white bow around his neck, I felt tears prick my eyes. What was he even doing here?

  Then, looking beyond the hound, I saw my soldier.

  And my heart stopped completely.

  When it restarted, there was such a pounding in my chest, I felt lightheaded.

  Ryler was in uniform, cleaned and pressed. Breaking dress protocol, he’d rolled and pinned up the right pant leg, his prosthetic fully exposed. My heart clenched because I knew he’d done this for me. Having no recollection of rising, I found myself standing. My hands trembled as they covered my mouth, and tears leaked from my eyes. Shiv came right to me, tail wagging, whining, happy to see me. Trying to give myself time to calm down, I wrapped my arms around the hound’s neck, and felt a papery substance tied with the bow. It was a note that read, “I like every you, too.”

  A sob caught me, even as I laughed. And then I looked up in time to see Ryler come behind the table and drop to one knee before me. Those blue-grays were liquid heat as they touched me. He took a deep breath and then exhaled. I caught just a hint of something spicy, something minty on his breath.

  The entire room had quieted and focused on us. I heard the click of cameras, felt the flashes. “I can’t live without you, AJ.” His voice broke just a little, and my heart clenched. Then he swallowed and went on, “I’m not perfect. I’m going to mess up. But I love you and I promise, I promise to keep loving you, no matter what. I’ll spend every day proving it. Just say you’ll marry me.”

  His hand trembled just a little as he lifted it. In his palm was a beautiful, yet simple, solitaire teardrop diamond ring. “Marry me.”

  Time seemed to freeze in that moment. My mind flashed with images, thoughts, and choices. Choices I had made. Choices others had made. It occurred to me as I looked down at this man, how very easily I could have missed out on the best thing in my life. One little slip, one little misdirection, and I might never have met Ryler. And, while some of those choices had caused pain in my life, I couldn’t bring myself to regret any of them. My breath shuddered in my chest as I tried to master my emotions. And my mouth trembled as I whispered past the knot in my throat, “I love you. I will, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Ryler.”

  The words had barely left my mouth, and then Ryler was on his feet, and I was in his arms. His mouth found mine, and I tasted him even as the crowd erupted in cheers. Then his breath tickled my skin as he breathed against my neck. “Thank you. Thank you, AJ. You won’t regret it.”

  “Never,” I assured him.

  Ryler pulled back briefly and slipped that ring on my finger.

  I stared at it for a moment, then a watery smile split my face.

  Never would I regret him. Never.

  This man, this warrior, this rebel — he was mine and I was his.

  And nothing and no one would ever come between us.

  The End

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A child of divorce and abuse, E. L. Irwin found escape in reading and writing, and through the school of hard-knocks, learned to be a fighter. She’s a self-described romantic-rebel who wears her heart on her sleeve and tends to shoot from the hip on subjects that matter. She enjoys riding horses, camping, fishing, wearing heels, shooting her XD.40, tattoos, and of course, a good book and hot coffee.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are so many who I need to thank. First, I thank you, Reader, because without you where would I be? To those who have taken the time to invest in me and my books – thank you. I salute you, book readers and lovers, book dragons and book worms. Next, I need to thank my family – my husband and my kids. You put up with me when I need to write and when I don’t always get everything else done; you forgive me when I try to juggle too much and end up dropping the ball on a few things – thank you for loving me anyway. Thank you to Sagebrush Writers, my critique group: Jeff, Patty, Norma, Laura, Lindsay, Pam, Jane, Theresa, Grace, and Miriam – you guys are beyond wonderful. Thank you to my beta readers – Grace, Jeff, Chris, Laura, Theresa, Lorena, Daniel, Rayel – your feedback and thoughts are precious and insightful. Thank you to those who aided me with the particulars regarding military life, terms, and weaponry: Mel, Justin, Kori, Lorena, Chris, Ben, and Jeff. Scott C, thanks for your suggestions as I shaped Chief. Thank you to Wade, Sierra, and Kirk for your insight on police procedure. Thank you to the Port Angeles Police Department for answering my questions and not launching an investigation into WHY I needed to know the things I needed to know.