Beyond the Fire

by Cheryl Pierson

  Jack could only repeat what he’d told her earlier. “I’d tell you, but I don’t know for certain, sweetheart. He wasn’t in very good shape when I left him in the barn.”

  “But...someone had to call 911!” She pulled away from him and he released her slowly. “I have to get over there! I have to know.” She crumpled, her hands going to her face, sobs wracking her body.

  “Ah, Kendi,” he muttered, pulling her to him again. “Come on, honey,” he whispered reluctantly. “It’s the only way we’re gonna know what’s what.”

  She nodded against him, sniffling.

  “Come on.” He released her and took her hand. “I’ll be with you, no matter—” He broke off, finishing grimly, “One way or the other.”

  ****

  They walked until they were closing in on the barn, Kendi’s steps more hesitant the nearer they came. As they approached the emergency vehicles, Jack glanced at Kendi. She’d been through a hell of a lot, and somehow, she’d seen something good in him. Something he’d thought was dead. Her love had resurrected his own heart, and it shook him and his faith in himself. Can I be the man she needs? He’d die before he’d hurt her.

  She seemed to read his thoughts easily as their eyes met in the dim, far-reaching circle of light from the vehicles.

  “Are we surrendering?” she asked breathlessly.

  He had to smile at her seriousness. “Only to each other...if you haven’t changed your mind about me.” He tried to make a joke of it, but his words caught roughly as they left his throat. He stopped at the edge of the light and turned to face her. He’d meant only to give her reassurance, to enfold her in a quick embrace. But her arms went around him, pulling him close, her lips raised to his. Jack had to kiss her, erase all doubt that he needed her as much as she needed him.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth as she tilted her head back even more, accepting him fully. Her hands gently traced him, outlining him, letting him know she wanted him, body and soul, with her caress. She started a fire in him, even now.

  The hum of the running vehicles, the shouts of the emergency responders, and the thrum of approaching helicopters made Jack release her, finger by finger, his reluctance hanging heavy over them both. Kendi clung to him until he grasped her shoulders and drew back.

  “Let’s get this done,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m afraid.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Don’t be. The worst is over.” Unless Jason is dead. As if in response to his black thought, one of the ambulances started down the road away from the barn, sirens blaring, lights flashing.

  “I don’t want to lose you.” She stood with her head down, looking at the ground.

  Jack smiled at Kendi’s words. “Lady, you’re never gonna lose me.”

  “I couldn’t stand that, Jack.”

  “I couldn’t, either.” He reached out and lifted her chin with his finger until their eyes met. “I couldn’t either.”

  After a moment, she nodded. He put his hands in the air. “Walk this way, baby,” he said grimly. Together, they walked into the light.

  ****

  “Jack!”

  He turned at the sound of his name, standing closer to Kendi. He felt her fingers clutch at his shirt. His field supervisor, Rick Jameson, hurried toward him, followed by two other field agents. Rick beckoned to a paramedic.

  As Rick reached Jack, he grasped his shoulders, staring at him as if he’d seen a ghost.

  “My God...I thought you were dead!” His eyes swept over Jack as if he’d never seen a more welcome sight. It almost made Jack want to smile, to say something glib. He and Jameson didn’t always see eye-to-eye. In fact, it was a rare occurrence when they did.

  Jack shook his head slightly. “No. I’m still around.”

  Rick’s lips tightened. “I’m sure as hell glad for that.”

  The paramedic stepped closer, and Rick released Jack. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  Jack started to argue. God, he hated hospitals. Ever since he’d awakened in the ICU all those years ago after Amy’s and Mikey’s murders, the hospital had become an integral part of that nightmare. “We’re not done here, yet. One of Sanchez’s men is still out there...Bull...”

  “We got him, Jack. He’s dead. Tried to ambush a couple of our guys earlier on, but they took him out. We sure could have used him alive, but it didn’t happen that way. It’s finished.”

  Jack gave him a hard look. Rick stared back at him. Jack shook his head. His ears were ringing, and suddenly, the pain gripped him tight and held him. “I don’t need a hospit—”

  Kendi wrapped her arms around his right shoulder and upper arm, and suddenly, he felt as if he were leaning against her for support. Christ, what is wrong with me?

  Rick smiled grimly. “That’s so like you, Taylor. Fighting to the end, ’til you just can’t go another round.” He motioned to the paramedic, who was calling for a gurney. “Let’s hurry it up,” he said unnecessarily, his tone curt.

  Jack could see the worry his boss tried so hard to hide, and it surprised him. When had anybody given a damn about him? Maybe he just hadn’t seen it. Maybe it had been there all along.

  He looked down into Kendi’s face. Well, he was damn sure seeing it now. She watched him, concern filling her emerald eyes. She was trying so hard to be strong. Dammit, he needed to be here for her, now—not the other way around. Because, deep in his gut, he knew Jason must not have made it. He looked back up toward Rick, but suddenly Rick’s features were distorted. He was speaking, but Jack couldn’t understand what he was saying.

  He felt his knees begin to buckle and reached out in reaction. There were hands at his shoulders, under his armpits, and then he was being lifted, floating. He felt the gurney at his back, solid and comforting, in spite of the belts they were fastening across him with dizzying precision.

  Someone was rolling up his shirt sleeve and then, he felt a prick. Just before his eyes closed, he glimpsed Kendi leaning over him, heard her speak his name. Then, it was too much. His eyes shut, and he couldn’t open them again.

  “He’s been functioning on adrenaline for the past four days.”

  “—your name, miss?”

  “—going with you. I’m not leaving—”

  “—don’t know how he made it this long.”

  Above the voices and the urgency, one thing nagged at him, keeping him from slipping completely into the hovering edges of darkness.

  Jason. What happened to Jason?

  He tried to open his eyes, and just couldn’t manage it.

  “Jason,” he whispered. “What...happened?”

  A sudden silence surrounded him. Tension weighted the air. Kendi. He needed to be by her side right now. He was useless. Couldn’t even open his eyes!

  “Ken...I...”

  Cool soft fingers came across his lips. “Shh. Don’t...don’t talk, Jackson. Please...just rest.”

  He could hear the tears she fought so desperately to conceal. And yet, unbelievably, she was trying to comfort him. She leaned close, the scent of honeysuckle and roses coming to him on the crisp autumn breeze, like a hint of the warmest summer day breathing life into him.

  He knew he wasn’t dying. Kendi had kept that from happening. And she was with him now, reassuring him, her hand resting on his arm as they loaded the gurney into the waiting ambulance and the doors shut behind them.

  He was beyond words now. He had lost a lot of blood, and the torture Sanchez had put him through had finally taken its toll. But he’d never crashed like this. And now, of all times. He wanted to give Kendi the support she needed when they brought her the inevitable news of Jason’s death. He hurt. All over. Blindingly. The pain seemed to absorb him, draining every bit of his will away.

  “Rest,” she whispered close to his ear. “I’m all right, and you will be, soon. Just rest.”

  He felt himself slowly slipping away from consciousness. Resigned, he tried to keep from fighting it. He wanted to just give himself up
to it. On the other side of it, he knew there would be an end to this pain, one way or the other.

  “I love you, Jack.” The tears were thick in her voice again, her fingers gently holding his, love flowing between them at the slight connection.

  The memory of Kendi’s loving vigilance, her warm skin against him, and the sweet touch of her mouth on his engulfed him, body, soul and mind, for one bright, brief instant. Then, the darkness came.

  ****

  Kendi sat in an overstuffed chair beside the bed. She couldn’t even hold his hand. When the ambulance had arrived, they’d taken him into surgery immediately. Kendi had gone to the bathroom and cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore. It was stupid, really. Jack was in very capable hands here, with the most modern medical equipment available to be used in his treatment.

  One of the nurses, Delia, had taken pity on her when she’d emerged from the bathroom, showing her to a small private waiting area and bringing her a cup of coffee. She drank it, even though she didn’t like coffee. She’d told Jack that, just before she brewed a pot for him.

  But she’d made it, and he drank it. The beginning of his healing.

  She smiled to herself, but it vanished as she remembered all that had happened to him before the cup of coffee. How had he managed to recover as well as he had? Had it all been for show? It must have taken a helluva lot for him to get through the last five days—and what had come before—as well as he had… Now, everything had caught up with him.

  Will he make it through surgery? And how bad is the damage? Her thoughts turned even blacker. She put the coffee cup on the small table and rested her head against the back of the two-seater couch.

  At the sound of the doctor’s footsteps, she opened her eyes and sat up.

  “You’re the next of kin?”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Oh, dear God. Her face must have registered the shock she felt, because the doctor immediately laid a hand on hers.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. Mr. Taylor came through the surgery with flying colors. I’m Dr. Alward, Jackson’s surgeon. He’s resting comfortably now, and I expect him to make a full recovery, barring any unforeseen circumstances.”

  Kendi let her breath out in a rush, her stomach cartwheeling. “Thank God.” She put her hands up to her face, rubbing her eyes and cheeks, feeling the blood rush through her veins again. “Thank God.”

  Dr. Alward smiled at her obvious relief. “Your husband is as tough as they come, Mrs. Taylor.”

  Kendi started to correct him, then stopped herself. “Yes. He is.”

  “He’s taken a lot of physical abuse the past few days. He had some internal bleeding.”

  Kendi raised her eyes to his as she sank back down into the waiting room chair, her legs suddenly unsteady beneath her. “I...didn’t know.”

  Dr. Alward smiled kindly. “No way you could have. He hid it well. There toward the end, just before he collapsed, the pain must have been excruciating.”

  “He never showed it.”

  “No. He had to finish the job he’d started.” He glanced down, then met Kendi’s eyes again. “They filled me in on the circumstances as I was scrubbing in, preparing for the surgery. You’ve got yourself a real American hero, Mrs. Taylor,” he told her somberly. “I am honored to have been the doctor on call tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You can go in with him. I don’t normally allow that with a patient who’s as badly injured as he is. But, in this case, I think your presence might be part of the medicine he needs to recover quickly.”

  He put out his hand, and Kendi shook it. “Take care, Mrs. Taylor.” His eyes softened for a moment. “He’ll be in some pain for the next few days. We’ll control it as best we can.”

  She nodded, unable to find her voice for a moment. The nurse who had been so kind to her appeared, just as the doctor was leaving, and motioned her to follow.

  “He’s in room 210, just down the hall, here,” she said. “There’s a nice chair in there. Maybe you can get a little sleep; it makes out into a bed.”

  “I want to be awake when he comes around.”

  The nurse smiled. “That’ll be several hours from now, dear. I promise, you won’t miss it. I’ll come wake you in a while if you like.”

  Reluctantly, Kendi had reclined the chair and taken the warm blanket the nurse brought her, along with the promise to rouse her within the next couple of hours. “I need to know...my bro...uh, Clint Rivers, his partner...can you find out if he...if he made it?”

  “Why, sure. I’ll see what I can find out and I’ll let you know.”

  ****

  Kendi awoke, the nurse standing beside her. “Mrs. Taylor?”

  She sat up. “Is he awake?”

  “Not yet. Would you like to sleep a little longer?”

  “No. Thank you. I want to be the first thing he sees.”

  “I don’t blame you one bit.” She smiled. “You’ve both been through a lot.”

  Kendi rose and pulled the chair near the bed.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Okay, hon. You let me know if you need anything at all.”

  Tears pricked Kendi’s eyes at the woman’s kindness. As she started to leave, she turned back to Kendi. “Oh, I almost forgot. Mr. Rivers survived the surgery. His condition is very critical, I’m afraid. He’s still in danger.”

  Kendi nodded. “Thank you.” She almost didn’t dare to hope for a miracle on two fronts. Having Jack alive here in the same room was unbelievable. She never thought this would happen, if she were honest with herself.

  This was...heaven. Her second chance at it. She would do anything to hold onto it. To even dare hope for the unimaginable possibility of seeing her brother alive again, as well, was almost asking for too much. She bent her head, giving a humble prayer of thanks.

  She sat beside Jack, lost in her own thoughts and memories. The seconds slipped to minutes, then turned to hours. His breathing was regular, relaxed, and strong. He shifted in the bed, and Kendi looked into his face. He slept, but his eyelids flickered. A few short moments later, he slowly opened them and found her gaze immediately.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice raspy.

  “Here,” Kendi said, coming to her feet. She reached for the insulated cup filled with ice water that sat on his bedside table. “I know you’ve got to be thirsty.” God, she was babbling. Oddly, the anxiety was overwhelming. And why should it be, now that he was awake? She held the cup near to him, positioning the bendable straw for him to drink from. He took a long drink, then nodded as he released the straw, closing his eyes briefly again.

  “The doctor said you’re going to be fine, sweetheart.” She felt tears welling in her eyes, and she bit her lip before she went on in a rush. “He said he was honored...honored to be the one—” She broke off as the tears overflowed, turning away from his view quickly to set the cup down.

  “Kendi.”

  She hated it when she cried. Crying women always looked so damn ugly. And she didn’t want to look any worse than she did already.

  “Kendi.” He lifted a hand to touch her fingers, his voice infinitely tender.

  “I’m crying right now,” she sniffed.

  “You’re entitled, I figure.”

  “Jack—”

  “I’ve got some things to say to you.”

  She sobbed, sinking down in the chair laying her head next to him on the bed. His hand rested immediately on her hair. “You go ahead and cry, sweetheart.” His voice was a husky whisper, his fingers stroking her hair in clumsy comfort.

  “It may...take awhile,” she whispered.

  She didn’t look at him, but by his tone, she knew he was smiling when he spoke. “I’ve got forever. I’ll wait.”

  After a moment, a soft knock sounded at the door and the nurse, Delia, appeared to take Jack’s vital signs. “Is everything okay? I can come back.”


  Kendi raised her head, wiping at her eyes. “No. Please, come on in. I was just making a fool of myself.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. If half of the stories they’re telling are true, you have every right to let fly with a few tears.”

  Kendi gave her a small smile as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Taylor? Better? Hold still just a moment and let me get your temp.” Delia quickly rolled the thermometer bar across Jack’s forehead.

  “I’m okay,” he murmured.

  “Do you need anything for pain?” She wrote down the reading on his chart.

  “No. Really, I’m okay.”

  She gave him a dubious look, then glanced at the monitor screen of readings beside his bed. “Pain can spike your blood pressure. We’re trying to keep that down, and it is a little high.”

  “Jack, maybe you should let her give you something.”

  “I...don’t want to sleep.”

  “You need to.” Kendi smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. I just don’t want you to hurt.”

  “I can give you some morphine in the drip, if you can tolerate it,” Delia offered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I’ll fix you right up.” Delia nodded at Kendi. “My shift ends in a half-hour, but I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Thank you for everything,” Kendi said.

  “You’re welcome. You should get some rest, too.”

  “I will.” When Kendi looked back down at Jack, he was asleep once more.

  He’d had some things to say to her, he’d said. Kendi couldn’t resist touching the strand of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. Whatever it was could wait. She already knew what lay in his heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eight days later

  Time dragged by as Jack waited for Kendi to arrive. His release couldn’t come soon enough. Where is Alward, anyhow? He sighed, glancing again at the clock on the wall. Eight o’clock. Any time now. He sat dressed and ready in the chair Kendi usually occupied. He reached to finger the newspaper he’d pitched on the nightstand. Over a week later, the front page still sported stories about the bust, listing several of the agents by name, re-telling countless versions of what had happened. None of the articles can hold a candle to the real thing.