Awakening Alex

by Ruth Langan

  He grinned. “So you see, cop? You’re not the only one who knows how to use a gun.” He waved his weapon proudly. “This gun has seen a lot more death than yours. The only difference between us is that you get paid to kill guys like me. And when you do, you’re called a hero. The Manhattan Hero.” His tone grew more shrill. “You think that badge makes you better’n the rest of us. But you weren’t better’n Wayne. You just got in a lucky shot. In a fair fight, he’d have beat you hands down.”

  Grant froze. The mere mention of that boy’s name still had a chilling effect on him. “And how would you know that?”

  “Because I taught him myself. Everything I could. How to take cover. How to draw a bead on a moving target. How to make every bullet count.”

  Grant’s voice lowered with disbelief. “You taught your own brother how to kill?”

  “On the streets it’s kill or be killed.”

  “He didn’t have to be on the streets. It was after two in the morning. He was just a kid. He should have been home in bed.”

  “Wayne had a job to do. The same as me. We had a list of cars to deliver. If we got them all in on time, we earned a bonus. Wayne knew I wanted that bonus. He was working overtime to see that I got it, so that I’d give him a piece of it.”

  For the first time Alex managed to speak over the sense of horror that clogged her throat. “So you’re the reason your brother died.”

  “Why you…” Furious, Vance tugged viciously on her hair, drawing her head back in a painful grip. He pressed the muzzle of his gun to her temple while he hissed out a breath. “Your boyfriend there is the only reason my brother is dead.”

  “You can tell yourself that.” Alex saw the look of frustration on Grant’s face, and knew that he was silently pleading with her to remain quiet. Still, the anger inside her exploded. She thought about all the months Grant had agonized over the shooting. The doctors. The pills. The sleepless nights he lay awake blaming himself. While this man had spent the entire time blaming others and plotting revenge. “But you know better. If you hadn’t given your brother a gun and sent him out on the street, he’d still be alive.”

  Enraged, he gripped her by both shoulders and turned her to face him. “Why you…”

  She refused to back down. Instead she lifted her chin and faced him. “It wasn’t a police officer who killed your brother. It was you.”

  “Shut up.” He brought the pistol down against the side of her temple, drawing blood.

  Grant was nearly blinded by fury. It swirled like a red mist before his eyes. He saw Vance take aim and knew, without a doubt, that Alex had no chance against this madman. He charged across the room, his only thought to take the bullet meant for Alex. As he leapt, he heard the terrible, deafening sound of an explosion.

  He saw the look of shock and pain on Alex’s face as the color slowly drained away. Saw the ever-widening spill of blood staining the front of her sweater. Reflexively his hand shot out. In one smooth movement he shoved her aside and sent her tumbling to the floor. Then his hand was at Vance’s throat in an iron grip, pressing so hard the gunman could feel his life beginning to ebb. With a grunt Vance released his hold on the gun in an effort to pry the offending hand loose. But Grant couldn’t be budged. Blinded by pain and rage, he was determined to take the life of the man who had cost Alex hers.

  Grant continued to choke him until Vance brought a knee to his groin, sending him to the floor, doubled over in pain. In the blink of an eye Vance was on him, a snarling, raging avenger, pinning him down while pressing the gun to his forehead.

  Grant’s voice was so cold, so controlled, it was barely recognizable. “Go ahead, punk. With the woman I love dead, my life isn’t worth living anyway. You’ll be doing me a favor by killing me.”

  The gunman threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, this is worth all the days and nights I spent planning my revenge. I love it. A cop begging me to end his life. And believe me, I’m more than willing to do as you ask.”

  As he took aim, he suddenly stiffened, then went limp and fell forward. Grant blinked, unable to believe his eyes. Standing over him was Alex, holding a log from the hearth.

  “You’re not dead?” Grant rolled to one side, then got stiffly to his knees and touched a hand to hers. “Oh, baby, you’re not dead.”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “I guess not. But I’ve got an awful pain in my arm. I think the bullet went clean through.”

  “Oh, thank God.” He gathered her close for a minute, needing to touch her, to hold her.

  He looked over when Vance moaned and started to sit up. Grabbing up the pistol, Grant knelt over him and pointed the gun at his chest. “Now what’re you going to do, punk?”

  “Don’t…shoot.” With his throat bruised and swollen, the words were little more than a croak.

  “Why not? It’s what you intended to do to us. Why should I be better than you?”

  Alex clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. With silent tears streaming down her face she touched a hand to Grant’s shoulder. She was shocked to feel the tension humming through him. A tension so terrible, his whole body vibrated with it.

  She understood his need to avenge this horror. She shared that need. But not with a gun, she realized.

  “Please don’t kill him, Grant.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “If you do, he’ll win. Don’t you see? You just asked why you should be better. The reason is simple. You’re a cop. All your life, that’s all you wanted to be. Because your grandfather was. Because you wanted to cheer for the good guys and stop the bad guys. It was something you did with pride. Don’t let him rob you of that pride now.”

  She studied the wide, fearful eyes of the man staring at the gun. And then she saw the icy, narrowed gaze of the one holding that gun. There was such anger in Grant. Such barely controlled fury. She prayed she could find a way to diffuse that hatred before he did something he’d regret for a lifetime.

  “You’ve been given a second chance, Grant. And this time you can make it all right.”

  She held her breath while Grant continued studying the man through narrowed eyes. Then, as he slowly got to his feet, she felt her heart begin to beat again.

  His words were terse, spat from between tightly clenched teeth. “Are you strong enough to phone the sheriff?”

  She nodded through her tears.

  He dragged her close, needing to feel her warmth, her spirit, her life. Against her hair he muttered, “Tell him we’re holding a fugitive at the lodge.” He took a deep breath and added, “Tell him to hurry. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to this punk until he’s had a chance to pay his debt to society.”

  Chapter 15

  The lodge had become a scene of absolute bedlam. The sheriff and his deputy from the little town of Snug Harbor arrived behind the town’s only snowplow. Trailing them was a car bearing a doctor and nurse from the town’s clinic, who had been notified of gunshot wounds. Bringing up the rear of the convoy was a truck with a reporter and a photographer from the local Gazette. Lem, who had been alerted by the sheriff, arrived by snowmobile at the same time that Bren and her daughters came roaring up in their van.

  On his way to the lodge the sheriff had contacted the authorities in New York, who arrived within hours in three helicopters, now cluttering the surface of the frozen lake.

  Inside, lawmen kept a silent watch over the prisoner, while the local sheriff, along with the state police, tried to conduct interviews with both Alex and Grant, after they had been treated by the doctor and nurse. And all the while, the reporter and photographer roamed the lodge, snapping pictures, interviewing everyone who could add to their store of information.

  Through it all, Bren and her daughters brewed gallons of coffee and passed out sandwiches to grateful police officers. When they weren’t handling food and drinks they were mopping up bloodstains from the floors and walls, and marveling that no deaths had occurred with so much blood spilled. In fact, the doctor had found, to his amazement, that the bullets had
done no serious damage as they had passed through limbs. Grant’s was by far the more serious of the two, though he refused treatment until the doctor confirmed that Alex had suffered nothing but a simple flesh wound.

  Despite the fact that Grant was familiar with the routine, it was evident that his patience with his fellow police officers was wearing thin with each succeeding hour.

  Finally, seeing the pallor of Alex’s face, his fury exploded. He glowered at the police chief. “We’ve already answered your questions, Chief Miller. Anything else you want answered will have to wait.”

  He picked Alex up, cradling her against his chest. “What Miss Sullivan needs now is a sedative and some time to rest.”

  “But Grant…” Her protest was cut off as he shoved past a line of cops and stormed down the hall to her bedroom.

  Inside, Bren already had the bedding turned down and a fire burning on the hearth. On the night table was a steaming cup of herbal tea and one of the doctor’s strongest sedatives. Chopin was playing softly on a CD.

  Grant settled Alex gently in the bed and handed her the tablet, followed by a sip of water. He waited until she’d swallowed the sedative before turning to Bren. “You’ll stay and take care of her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Where are you going?” Alex reached for his hand.

  He paused to press it between both of his. “I’ll have to fly back with the prisoner and file a complete report.”

  “To New York?”

  He nodded. “A couple of state police offered to drive my Jeep back.”

  “Your Jeep?” Her heart took a hard, solid jolt. “Aren’t you planning on coming back?”

  He hesitated before saying softly, “I love you, Alexandra. I always will. But I realized something today. It isn’t enough to love someone. Not if it means that by loving them, you place them in harm’s way.”

  “Grant…”

  He shook his head. “There’s no denying what I’ve done. If Vance Kendrick hadn’t so easily read my feelings for you, you could have been spared all this pain and anxiety. It’s because of me that you had to suffer. How many people should have to suffer because of me? Jason is dead; my sister is now a widow with a child to raise alone. And you’re suffering the effects of a madman bent on revenge. Your precious privacy has been violated, your secluded hideaway invaded. And all because of me. Lem was right. You’re too tenderhearted for your own good. And once again you’re the one who has to bear the scars for your goodness.”

  He leaned down, oblivious to the fact that Bren was watching them. With a sigh of frustration he brushed his lips over hers. Then, feeling the tremors she couldn’t hide, he took the kiss deeper. “Try not to think about what happened here. Just get some rest.”

  “What about you, Grant? When do you get to rest?”

  He gave her a weak smile. “This is my job. Remember?”

  He squeezed her fingers, then lifted them to his lips for a quick kiss before striding quickly across the room.

  With his hand on the knob he turned. The sight of her bloodstained dressings had a muscle working in his jaw. His eyes were every bit as fierce as the first time she’d seen him. The seething anger in him frightened her.

  “I have…a lot of things to deal with, Alex. But know that I love you.” Without giving her a chance to speak he pulled the door shut behind him.

  Alex closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his footsteps receding along the hall. Then, with a sigh catching in her throat, she gave in and allowed Bren to help her out of her bloody clothes.

  Alex lay in her bed and listened to the sounds of silence that had finally settled over the lodge. She’d begun to think that all the people who’d invaded her privacy might never leave. But now, after convincing Bren that she truly wanted to be alone, she had her wish.

  Bren had taken her girls home to bed, but only after extracting a promise from Alex that she would phone whenever she was awake and in need of her.

  The sedative old Dr. McBride had given her left her brain fogged and her body sluggish. She knew she’d slept through the night and the better part of the day. She’d awakened once or twice through the night to glance at the midnight sky outside her window. She’d seen the morning light filtering through her bedroom, before she’d drifted to sleep again. Now the sun had made its arc across the sky and would soon be setting.

  Grant hadn’t phoned.

  She knew he wasn’t going to return. The depth of his self-loathing, and the fierceness of his declaration of love had said it all. He was once again blaming himself for everything that had happened. And this time she was helpless to change his mind.

  She would have to settle for the fact that he had achieved what he’d come seeking at Snug Harbor Lodge. His night terrors had disappeared. His self-esteem had been restored. Strangely enough, it had been his young victim’s own brother who had given Grant his final peace of mind. If Vance hadn’t admitted teaching Wayne how to use a gun to kill efficiently, Grant would still be blaming himself for that boy’s death. Now, finally, he could accept that Wayne Kendrick had been, regardless of his tender age, an accomplished gunman.

  She was happy for Grant. And relieved that his wish had been granted. But she also knew that he now had no reason to return. He was, after all, confident enough to look to his future. A future that lay in the city. Doing what he’d always wanted to do. And now, finally, he could return with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

  Still, though she loved him, she couldn’t imagine her life anywhere but here. Not even for the man she loved.

  The man she loved. How had all this happened? How had she been foolish enough to allow such feelings for a man who was all wrong for her? He was city born and bred. That same city held his future. While hers was tied to this wilderness.

  Agitated, she tossed and turned, rolling from side to side until, exhausted, she drifted back into a restless sleep.

  The snowstorm Alex had predicted had finally arrived in all its fury. Snowflakes beat angrily against the windowpane and formed a thick curtain that nearly obliterated everything beyond the porch.

  Bren stood at the stove stirring a pot of soup. She turned when Alex entered the kitchen.

  “Any calls, Bren?”

  “Grant phoned half a dozen times yesterday. He said not to wake you. He just wanted to be sure that you were being properly taken care of.”

  “He didn’t ask to speak with me?”

  Bren saw the expectant look in her young friend’s eyes and felt a wave of sadness as she shook her head.

  Seeing Alex easing into a parka she gave a look of alarm. “Where are you going?”

  “Just down to the lake. I need to get outdoors for a while.”

  “Alex…”

  “I’m fine now, Bren. Even Dr. McBride said so when he checked me this morning. I won’t be long.” She managed a smile before stepping onto the porch and pulling the door shut behind her.

  Once she was out of sight, the smile faded. Grant hadn’t wanted to speak with her. It could only mean that he wasn’t coming back.

  What would she do if he never came back?

  She paused on the banks of the lake and stared around at the snow-covered vastness of her surroundings. Finding a fallen log she sat, deep in thought. Despite the pain in her heart, she knew what she would do. What she’d always done. She would go on living and working here. She would invest her energy in her guests. In her friends and family. In herself and nature and all the things she’d always loved. She would endure. She would survive. She sighed. She would go on. Perhaps not as happily or as innocently as before. But she would survive.

  A short time later she made her way back toward the lodge. As she started past the two snowpeople, she paused to study their linked fingers. The sight of it caused such a pain around her heart, she was forced to close her eyes. She might endure, she reminded herself, but she would never again love anyone the way she’d loved Grant Malone.

  It wasn’t so much a sound as a sense of so
meone behind her that caused her to turn. Grant was standing there, watching her with that same intense expression she’d come to know so well.

  Her tone was too breathy, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Yeah.” He stayed where he was, afraid to touch her. Afraid if he did, she’d vanish like the mist over the lake.

  In the week he’d been away, he could see in his mind the bloodred stains that had marred Alex’s flesh. His hands clenched at his sides. It had nearly torn out his heart to see her hurt like that. In that moment, he’d known a blood-lust that had nearly sent him over the edge of reason. To see the woman he loved taking a bullet because of him had caused a pain unlike any he’d ever known.

  The woman he loved. He studied her eyes, rimmed with fatigue. And her skin, a bit too pale. His fault, he thought. All his fault.

  “You came to say goodbye, didn’t you?” She could see it in his eyes. In the tightness of his mouth.

  “Alexandra…”

  She closed her eyes and turned away to hide the tears. “I understand. Your future is in New York. And now that you’ve come to terms with what happened between you and Wayne Kendrick, you’ll be able to get back to the work you love.”

  “It’s funny.” His voice, so close behind her, sent a chill along her spine. “I came up here honestly believing that I’d never again be able to function as a good cop. I’d pretty much resigned myself to that fact. And then, when I met you, and realized just how sweet your life was here at Snug Harbor, I started to think about a future here with you.”

  When she glanced over her shoulder he caught her arched brow and gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah. How about that? A city boy thinking about making it in the wilderness. But then I wondered what I’d do. I could never earn a living as a trail guide. The only thing I know how to do well is police work.”

  “So you’ve decided to go back to the city.”

  His voice lowered. “I’d say that’s pretty much up to you.”