He had been outside? How had he gotten here?
It didn’t matter right now. I could ask those questions later.
More men rushed into the room. Arrested Charlie and Currie. Untied my dad.
As Jackson rolled off me, I glanced back at him.
His face twisted with pain. Blood stained his shoulder.
He’d been shot, I realized. He’d not only saved me, but he’d taken the bullet for me.
I pulled myself to my knees and bent over him, running my hand across his jaw. “Jackson . . . you shouldn’t have done that.”
He tried to pull himself up but grabbed his shoulder instead. His eyes clamped shut.
I pushed him back down.
“Yes, I should have.” His voice sounded strained and tight.
I glanced at his shoulder again. More blood poured out. This wasn’t good.
In TV language, a gunshot to the shoulder was perfect—a flesh wound that looked devastating but that could avoid any major organs. But I knew from Episode 403 of Relentless that there were arteries in this area of the body, and these injuries indeed could be life threatening.
This was no flesh wound.
“Oh, Jackson.” Tears wet my cheeks again. I didn’t care. I stroked his face, praying that nothing happened to him. “We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
He closed his eyes. Which didn’t seem like a good sign. Not at all. And he didn’t say anything. No “I’ll be okay” or “Stop worrying about me.”
That had to mean he wasn’t okay and that I needed to worry about him.
“Jackson, wake up!” I nudged him. “Don’t go to sleep on me.”
Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Keep people conscious in these situations?
His eyes didn’t open.
I rested my forehead against his, panic rushing through me. “Oh, Jackson. Please be okay. Please.”
Just as paramedics began to put Jackson on a stretcher, I kissed his cheek, praying it wasn’t the last time I’d be able to do that.
“I love you, Jackson Sullivan,” I whispered. “Please don’t let things end this way.”
I loved him?
Yes, I did. I knew that. I’d known it for a long time, but I’d just been in denial.
Paramedics carried him away. And I crumpled into my dad’s arms.
Phoebe joined me at the hospital waiting room as the doctors did surgery on Jackson to remove the bullet. It had skimmed his subclavian artery—a wound that could be fatal. If the bullet hit a nerve, then it could have long-term effects. I hadn’t had an update yet.
I’d already been attended to by the staff in the ER—my cut had required twelve stitches, and I’d been given some antibiotics. Then I’d been released.
My dad would have been here with me. I knew he would have. But the FBI needed to debrief him, and I’d told him to go—as long as he promised not to leave permanently.
He promised.
Phoebe held my hand as we waited.
I kept replaying the moment where Jackson closed his eyes. I kept thinking about how I’d feared I was going to lose him.
My love story was going to end like a Nicholas Sparks book. It would be some kind of cosmic payback for all the times I’d made fun of his movies for their sad endings. My love story would be a tragedy instead of a happy ever after.
Finally, the doctor stepped out. I jumped to my feet and rushed toward him, hardly able to breathe as I waited.
“He came through the surgery just fine,” the doctor announced.
My shoulders slumped with relief. “Best news I’ve heard all day.”
“He’s going to be in recovery for a while, but I’ll have a nurse come get you when it’s time. He requested you and only you.”
My heart pounded erratically—in a good way. “Thank you.”
I nearly collapsed onto the chair. Phoebe’s arm slipped around my back. “He’s going to be okay.”
I nodded, still pinching myself to make sure I hadn’t imagined that update. “Yes, he’s okay.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Me too.” I closed my eyes and leaned forward, thanking God over and over and over for this outcome. Things could have turned out so much differently. All that blood I’d seen . . . I’d imagined worst-case scenarios.
Police Chief Lawson stepped into the waiting room. His gaze found me, and he strode my way, taking a seat beside me. “Any updates?”
“He’s in recovery, but he’s going to be okay.” I couldn’t say that enough.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
I remembered my dad’s fear that someone in the police department was involved with the Barracudas. Could it be the chief? I didn’t know, but I reminded myself to be cautious.
“Chief, did you find out what was on the CD-ROM?”
He nodded slowly. “Everything we needed to bring the Barracudas down, including one of the locations where they met. We were able to send a team there and make several arrests.”
“Really?”
“They were using Earth Mother as a cover organization,” he said. “Their goal was to bring down the US as we know it. Everyone would blame Earth Mother for the power outages and the resulting crash of America’s economy. When that happened, they were going to step in to make changes. Charlie McGowan was their ringleader.”
“I can hardly believe that.” It seemed surreal, like a plot from Relentless. Only it wasn’t. Real, disillusioned people were alive and well in this country. “Did you find Crista?”
He shook his head. “No, but we have evidence that she’s part of the group. We’re actively searching for her now.”
“Good.” I still remember that painting she’d taunted me with. That had taken some guts and shown a boldness that was disturbing.
“It’s a good thing you held on to that CD-ROM, Joey,” the chief said. “It’s going to be a key piece of evidence for us.”
At least I’d done one thing right. “One more question: How did you guys find me?”
“We got an anonymous call. The Coast Guard was able to get us over to the island.”
A wave of surprise washed over me. “Let me guess? From a woman?”
He nodded. “How’d you know?”
“It was most likely my mom. Have you guys found her?” She was such a mystery to me—an anomaly. Someone who’d abandoned her family, taken up with a terrorist group, yet who was surprisingly still watching out for me.
The chief shook his head. “No, we haven’t. She wasn’t there when the group was busted.”
She was in the wind. I wasn’t really surprised. Would I ever see her again?
I had no idea.
And that was okay. Because I was thankful for the answers I finally did have.
An hour later, the nurse called me back to see Jackson.
I stood and glanced at Phoebe, suddenly feeling unreasonably nervous. This was Jackson. I had no reason to feel nervous.
Yet I was. I didn’t want to see him broken. I wanted to be there for him, so I had no choice but to do this.
“What if I ruined things?” I whispered.
Phoebe shook her head. “You didn’t. Go see him.”
My anxiety grew with each step closer I took to his room. Finally, the nurse extended her arm toward the third curtained-off recovery area in front of me. I straightened my outfit—it wasn’t a pretty outfit, but some old sweats and a T-shirt that had been in a police cruiser. My hair was pulled back in a bun after the rain bath I’d received. I’d had to wash dried mud from my face.
I was a sight to behold. Perfect fodder for tabloids. And I didn’t even care.
With a pretend knock on the curtain, I stepped into his room. I reminded myself to breathe, not wanting to add “passing out” to the spectacle known as Joey Darling.
Jackson offered a slight smile from his hospital bed.
My heart pounded in my ears as I gathered the facts. Hospital gown. IV. Bandage on his shoulder. Groggy look in his eyes.
But he was alive.
All my anxiety fell away when I saw his gaze. It was welcoming, kind, and receptive. I rushed to his side and grabbed his hand—gently, of course.
“You’re okay.” It wasn’t the most elegant start to the conversation, but there it was. I’d been so scared that he’d been injured beyond recovery.
He squeezed my hand, still looking groggy. “I’m okay.”
“You took a bullet for me.” My voice caught. I still couldn’t believe he’d done that . . . or that anyone would do that for me. For the last several years in Hollywood, I’d been surrounded mostly by people who looked out for only themselves.
“Of course I did.”
Hot tears pressed at my eyes. “You could have been killed.”
“I wasn’t.”
I leaned forward until my forehead rested against his hands. There was just so much I needed to say, but I didn’t know where to start or if now was the time or how anything would be received.
“Joey . . .” Jackson started.
I looked up at him. Yep, the tears were back. I was apparently at their mercy today. This week for that matter.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted.
“For what?”
“For doubting you. For questioning your motives. For getting upset.”
He squeezed my hand again. “I know it was a delicate situation, Joey.”
More tears streamed down my cheeks. Seriously, they wouldn’t stop coming. But I just kept thinking about how I’d almost lost Jackson. First, because I was upset and then because he’d taken a bullet for me.
Things could have turned out a lot differently. I was so glad he was still with me and that I had the chance to make things right.
“Hey,” he whispered. “There’s no need to cry.”
Using my free hand, I wiped my cheeks. “I’m just so . . . overwhelmed, I guess.”
“Joey?”
I did a double take at him, wondering about the emotion behind his question. He was about to say something meaningful. Serious.
Pivotal.
Was it that he’d realized we weren’t right for each other? That I’d shown my true colors and he didn’t like them? That he’d realized my ex, Eric, was right and that I wasn’t relationship material?
“Yes?”
His gaze locked on mine. “I love you too.”
I sucked in a breath. “You heard me say that?”
He smiled—it was a bleary smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I did.”
“I should have trusted you more.”
“I wanted to tell you more.”
“I know.”
He took my hand and pressed his lips into it. “We’re going to be okay, Joey.”
Relief whooshed through me. I hadn’t even realized I was so uptight. Jackson had proven how much he cared about me by being willing to risk his life. Yet deep inside I’d still wondered about the state of our relationship.
With that sentence, I believed him. We would be okay. More than okay, I hoped.
“I’m glad you finally know the truth,” he said.
His eyelids drooped, and his voice was beginning to fade.
“You should get some sleep.” I rubbed my thumb across the top of his hand. “I know the anesthesia has to be making you tired.”
“I am a little tired.” He squeezed my fingers.
“Would it be okay if I stayed here with you?”
He smiled again—that hazy smile. “I would like that, Joey.”
That was a good thing. Because I didn’t want to ever leave him again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The next day, I left the hospital for long enough to do one thing: to become an honorary citizen of Nags Head. I’d swung by my condo to shower and change into a little black dress.
Zane had left a note for me.
I feel like you need some space, so I’m going to visit my parents. Really this time. I’m sorry for leaving you on Lantern Beach. Please forgive me, and I’m glad you’re okay.
And he was gone. Again. Maybe it was for the best.
The ceremony had gone well, and I’d gotten my key to the city. The mayor had also announced his run for senator. It was strange not having Jackson with me, but he needed time to rest.
I couldn’t wait to get back to him. Jackson should be discharged today, and he would recover at home.
I still hadn’t found all the answers I was looking for. I didn’t know if Leonard had been telling me the truth a few weeks ago about my super-stalker fan club. Was a member of the media really a part of it? A cop? Should I live in fear of these people or assume they were some kind of misguided vigilante supporters?
I still didn’t have all the answers about my mom either. But maybe with time, they would come.
Crista hadn’t been found, but the police were actively looking for her.
Why had Earth Mother set off a bomb at Ted Montel’s place? Was it connected to this? Or merely a random act?
Just as I stepped past a police officer stationed outside the waiting room, I saw Winston Corbina disappear out a door on the other side of the room. My gaze traveled the direction he’d come from.
He’d been talking to my dad, I realized.
My dad was the reason the cop was stationed there. I knew Dad wasn’t in the clear yet and that he’d made a dangerous group of people mad. I was glad to see the police department was taking proper precautions to keep him safe.
I approached my dad, unsure if I’d like what I heard.
“What was that about?” I asked.
Dad straightened, not looking quite as tired as he had yesterday. He’d gotten a little rest and had stayed at my place last night, and someone had brought him some clean clothes. I wished I’d been there to catch up with him, but I’d crashed on an uncomfortable couch in Jackson’s hospital room instead.
“Winston heard I was back and was checking on me,” Dad said, taking a sip of his hospital coffee.
Tension stretched across my back as I remembered all my suspicions about the man. “Is he a Barracuda?”
“Winston?” Dad pulled his chin back in surprise. “No, he’s not the type.”
“Are you sure?” I wasn’t as easily convinced. What about Crista? She’d been hanging out with him. I didn’t ask about her though. I doubted my dad knew.
“He’s a bored rich man, Joey.” Dad handed me something. “He asked me to give you this.”
I sucked in a breath and opened the paper. Was this the same note Winston had given to me months ago but that I’d lost before getting to read it?
With bated breath, I unfolded it and read the words there.
I’m your biggest fan. Now you know.
Winston? Was he the one organizing this crazy fan club? The one who was offering money for information?
It seemed like a good guess. It was something I’d explore a little later—after I got Jackson home.
I shoved the paper in my pocket.
“Joey, I’m going to need to go away for a while,” Dad announced, setting down his Styrofoam cup.
My heart pounded into my ribs. “What?”
He nodded, still looking tired. “You’re not safe if I’m here. I need to wait it out until everything blows over with the Barracudas.”
“But you could stay here. Jackson could—”
Dad shook his head. “It’s still too dangerous.”
I bit back my urge to start begging. “For how long?”
“Not as long as last time. But I’m a target still, Joey. Everyone agrees that the best thing is for me to go away.”
I closed my eyes, trying to stay in control of my emotions. “But I just got you back.”
He stood and pulled me into his arms. “I know, sweetie. I know.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I promise you that I’ll be back, and then we’ll have all the time in the world to catch up.” He paused. “And, Joey, nothing you could ever do would make me stop loving you.”
I squeezed his n
eck in a tight hug again. “Thank you.”
“You weren’t yourself in Hollywood.”
“I’m beginning to see that. I want to get back to my roots, to being the person you raised me to be.”
“I’d say you’re on the right track.” He kissed my forehead. “Now, if it’s okay, I’d like to say goodbye to Jackson also.”
“Of course.”
He kept his arm around me as we walked down the hallway. Jackson was sitting up in bed, dressed, and he looked halfway human again. My heart felt ten pounds lighter when I saw him. It didn’t hurt that his eyes lit up also.
I crossed the room and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad to see you’re looking better.”
“I’m ready to go home,” he said. “More than ready.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“The nurse should be here in a few minutes with my papers.”
I smiled. “Excellent.”
I couldn’t wait to navigate the future with Jackson by my side. As far as I was concerned, nothing could stop us now.
My phone buzzed. I glanced down and saw I had a message from Rutherford, my manager. My eyes narrowed as I read the words.
“What is it?” Jackson asked.
“Netflix has officially offered to pick up Relentless,” I said, feeling a little stunned.
“That’s . . . great,” Jackson said. “Right?”
It was great, right? I mean, I’d found my dad. I’d told myself that I couldn’t leave this area until I knew my dad was okay. And now that he was . . . life could continue on, right?
But . . . it seemed so much more complicated than that. Especially since I wanted Jackson to be a part of my future.
“We’ll talk about it more later,” I said. “Right now we’ve got to concentrate on getting you out of here.”
The nurse stepped inside with papers in her hands. “You’re all good to go, Mr. Sullivan. You’ll need someone to monitor you for a few days.”
As Jackson stood, I slipped my arm around his waist. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of him.”
Jackson kissed the top of my head. “This will be interesting.”
“Yes, it will be. I’ll be your nurse, your cook, and your chauffeur even.” He couldn’t drive while on his pain meds.
Flaw-Abiding Citizen (The Worst Detective Ever Book 6) Page 19
