by Davis, Jo
Hodge rose above him and aimed the muzzle between his eyes.
Jason fired at Boardman, striking the bastard in the chest. He heard the second gunshot and whirled. Saw Alex jerk, tumble into Hodge. Saw Hodge rise, level the gun at Alex’s head.
“No!” Jason drew down and Hodge turned, swung his weapon in Jason’s direction.
Jason got his shot off a split second before Hodge’s, felt the burn graze his arm. His nemesis fell and didn’t get up, but Jason saw only Alex. Lying motionless on his back, blood rapidly soaking his T-shirt.
Clutching his bleeding arm, he began to stagger toward his fallen friend, but heard a shuffle behind him. And realized his fatal error.
He’d forgotten about the man observing in the shadows.
Liv fought to gain the upper hand with Jenna, managing to get on top just as the gunshots erupted.
Bang. Bang.
Jason’s cry of anguish was the most terrifying sound she’d ever heard, and she redoubled her efforts. Had to put an end to this, get to her husband.
Bang, bang.
Straddling Jenna, she drew back her arm and planted her fist in the other woman’s face, gratified by her shriek and the gush of blood pouring from her nose.
“That was for Alex, bitch,” she snarled.
Working fast, she grabbed the syringe from the woman’s limp hand, ripped the cap off with her teeth, and plunged the needle into Jenna’s neck. Emptied the contents.
“And that was for me.”
Immediately, Jenna’s eyes began to glaze. That threat removed, Liv pushed up, glancing at Boardman to make sure he stayed down. He lay still, his weapon next to his outstretched hand.
Her gaze went to Jason, stumbling toward—She gasped as a figure emerged from the shadows at the foot of the stairs. A huge black man dressed in an expensive-looking suit.
With a gun trained on Jason’s back.
Before she could cry out a warning, Jason spun on his heel, raising his weapon. Then he stopped in midmotion, staring at the gun in the man’s hand, stunned confusion on his face.
“Reginald,” he whispered. “Why?”
The big man appeared almost sad. “Money, kid, why else? Palmer needed a man on the inside, and I wanted cash. Lots of green to supplement my shitty retirement from the fucking bureau. You were my gift to Palmer, Jason. You see, he knew all along you were an agent, and he didn’t care. He had it bad for you, and you couldn’t hide how much you liked it, could you?”
Liv gasped. She’d heard Jason yell out his ID as an FBI agent, but it hadn’t registered. This was Jason’s supervisor. Jason had been undercover as Hodge’s sex slave, and that explained so much. The pyramid list, his pistol, the secrecy surrounding his past. Everything he’d promised to tell them when this was over.
And he’d been set up, too. Just like Alex.
“You motherfucker,” Jason said, mouth trembling. Blood seeped from between his fingers, and his cheek had begun to swell. He was a mess, but those injuries couldn’t compare to the ones Reginald had dealt him.
She inched toward Boardman’s weapon.
“You were just a casualty in a war you were never supposed to win, Jase. You were a good kid. I’m sorry.”
Liv dove, but couldn’t reach the gun fast enough. A gunshot exploded and she screamed, covering her ears, whipping around to see Jason still standing.
Reginald sank to his knees, then flopped prone onto the floor. A few feet away, Alex was leaning up on one elbow, holding a pistol in his shaking, bloodied fingers. Closing his eyes, he fell backward, dropping the gun. Jason kicked Reginald’s weapon into the darkness and started toward Alex, yanking his cell phone from his jacket.
Liv scrambled to her husband’s side, tears streaming down her face. “Alex? Please, please hang on!”
His lashes fluttered and he looked up at her, those beautiful green eyes filled with love. He gave her a half smile, his mouth tight with pain. “Baby, I have a sixth confession, but . . . I think I’ll skip straight to seven . . . if it’s all the same to you.”
“Oh, honey,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “Don’t talk, all right? Jason’s calling for help.”
Blood everywhere. So much of it, soaking his chest. Pooling around his body. Don’t let me lose him.
“I love you, Olivia Quinn . . . and I always will. I’m just sorry it had to end this way.”
“I love you and you can’t leave me, do you hear? Stay with me.” She wanted to cradle his head in her lap, hold him close, but was afraid of jostling him. So she settled for clinging to his hand, rubbing his cold fingers against her cheek.
“Jason?” he rasped. His lungs wheezed, every intake of air a battle.
Jason knelt, tucking away the phone, and laid a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I’m here, buddy.”
“You tried to tell me . . . there’s always a price. Should’ve listened.”
“Oh, God, Alex—”
“Take care of her. Promise me.”
Jason’s breath hitched and he visibly fought not to cry. “You know I will, but you’re gonna be fine.”
“Good. And Jase?” He was fading, voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“No mushy shit . . . but you’re pretty special to me, too. Wanted you to know . . . ”
“I do know, and—Alex?”
Helpless, Liv watched as her husband’s lids drifted closed, lashes settling on waxen cheeks. “No, please don’t go. I love you so much.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and cried, clinging to him, willing him to stay. She was hardly aware of Jason tugging on her. The paramedics moving in, working on Alex, racing against time.
Vaguely, she knew someone was screaming as Alex coded. Horrible and rending, the soul being ripped from someone’s body.
Jason, holding her tight. Rocking her.
Her hands, her face, covered in Alex’s blood.
A paramedic, placing pads on Alex’s chest. Shaking his head.
A sting in her arm.
Then the screams were sucked from her lungs and lived only in her brain. Somehow that was worse.
And then, blessedly, she knew nothing at all.
Jason watched Olivia sleep, held her hand, stroked her cool fingers. He’d insisted the nurses clean her as best as they could, and thank God for that. She didn’t need to awaken with Alex’s blood all over her.
He didn’t even try to think about the tangle of lies. The betrayals.
The losses.
He couldn’t help Alex now, couldn’t dwell on the man he cared about so much without breaking down. So he concentrated on Liv because she was the only person he had to cling to. The one who needed him like he needed her.
She stirred, licked her chapped lips, coming around. Tense, he watched her emerge from the safe, protective fog, saw her open those pretty blue eyes. The confusion giving way to awful realization.
That she might have awakened to a world without Alex.
When she spoke, her voice was that of a small child. Needing the truth, yet afraid to know.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
He brought her hand to his uninjured cheek, nuzzled her, trying to lend her strength for what was to come. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “He made it here, so they rushed him into surgery.”
She’d never know about the battle to restart his heart, how they nearly called his time of death after giving her the shot. How Jason had bawled like a baby instead of a grown man, holding her while Alex lay dead on the dirty basement floor.
Most folks didn’t need that much reality. It would hit her soon enough, how tough his fight would be, even if he survived surgery.
“His chances. Tell me.”
God help him, he wanted to lie. But Alex never had, so neither would he. “Not good, sweetheart. But they improve every hour, and he’s not leaving us if he can help it.”
The tears welled, slipped down her cheeks. “Thank you. For being honest, for being here.”
“Shh, I’v
e got you.”
Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. One of comfort and friendship. Promise.
After a while, he helped her into some sweats and a St. Louis PD T-shirt Detective Lambert had in the trunk of his car. The man was a little sweet on her, wanting to assist in the aftermath, and he was glad. The dress she’d been wearing had already hit the incinerator.
After a while, Jason escorted her to the waiting room, since the nurses needed the ER bed. Hours passed, excruciating, both of them jumping every time a doctor or nurse emerged from the restricted area beyond the double doors.
Once Liv said, “He always jokes that he wants to die at home in his lounger outside, with a beer on the table next to him.”
And then he held her while she cried until she had no tears left. She hadn’t said much since.
Near dawn, the doors opened and they jerked upright. This time, a sandy-haired doctor in fresh scrubs headed their way, eyes tired. Expression solemn.
“Mrs. Quinn? I’m Dr. Alan Chapman.”
She leapt to her feet. “Yes! Please, how’s my husband?”
“Why don’t we go in here, where it’s private?”
Liv paled and reached for Jason’s hand.
The doctor ushered them into a nearby family crisis room and waited until they’d taken seats before continuing. “Mrs. Quinn, it was quite a battle, but your husband made it through the surgery.”
Praise God.
Liv clapped a hand over her mouth, seeming to fold in on herself. Jason put an arm around her shoulders, letting her lean into him. Chapman gave her a moment before going on.
“I’m not going to lie to you; Alex is extremely critical. The bullet came so close to his heart, a sheet of paper wouldn’t have slid sideways through the space. It bounced around, did internal damage, and lodged at the back of his spine between the shoulder blades.”
“Oh, my God.”
“We removed the bullet. We’ll have to wait and see about possible spinal injury, but that’s the least of our worries right now. He’s got a real fight ahead of him, especially these first few days.”
“Doctor Chapman, what are his odds?” she asked quietly.
His eyes were kind but firm. “I don’t deal in percentages. They aren’t scientific or useful, and they don’t factor in a person’s will to live. And believe me, Mrs. Quinn, your husband wants to live very badly, or he wouldn’t still be here.”
Jason prayed he was right. Alex was going to need every ounce of that will, and then some.
He hurt.
He hurt so fucking bad, maybe he should’ve stayed dead.
And he had died, right?
He’d always thought that floating-above-your-body bullshit was just that. A load of crap. Then he’d closed his eyes, felt the world slide away. The pain disappeared, and suddenly he was above the scene, watching his Liv cry. It made him sad and he wanted to get back to her, but didn’t know how.
So he’d just sort of hung around. Waited until he was pulled back in to fight again. Several times this had happened, Alex yo yoing back and forth between Here and There, and he wondered if he’d be able to go another round.
And now? Definitely awake inside his shot-to-hell body.
He’d probably dreamed all of that woo-woo shit.
“Alex?” Liv’s voice, her sweet perfume filling his senses. “I think he’s waking up!”
“Thank God,” Jason muttered, sounding exhausted. “I’ll buzz the nurse.”
How did she know? He tried to open his eyes, but it seemed like the wire between his brain and body parts had been snipped in two.
Okay, not cut, just stunned. He blinked his lids, feeling like he had a fine coating of ground glass on his eyeballs. His vision was fuzzy and the white light killed his eyes.
“Damn.” Sounded like his voice box had been scraped with a rusty nail, but everyone else thought that one curse was the greatest event on record.
All at once, people were chattering, poking, and prodding.
A doctor, a couple of nurses. Where were Liv and Jason?
Was he hurting here, here and here? Yes, yes and hell yes, dammit! This information seemed to please the shit out of everyone, too.
The doctor was telling him stuff about getting shot, the bullet missing his heart. His spine healing, and taking it easy, as if they were in danger of his leaping from the bed to run laps. Spine? What the hell? He couldn’t take it all in, and wanted everyone out except the two people he needed most.
At last, blessed silence. Liv’s delicate hand holding his. On the other side of the bed, a masculine palm on his shoulder. “Better,” he sighed.
Opening his eyes, he tried to focus again, but they were blurry. His limbs so damned heavy.
“Rest, big guy,” Jason said. “You’re going to be fine now.”
“If you . . . say so.”
He let go. This time, he wouldn’t have to fight to wake up again.
Seventeen
Alex had fallen into a normal, healing sleep. Finally. After nearly two heartwrenching weeks of watching him struggle from the brink of death, cheating the Reaper three more times, he’d won, running on nothing except willpower for fuel.
Jason had begged her to go home and get some sleep in her own bed instead of the cot she’d been living on. Maybe tonight she’d feel easy enough about leaving him to do that. Besides, Jason had offered to take her place.
Alex twisted, blond hair tousled on his pillow. He opened his eyes and this time, clear green stared back at her. “Hey, beautiful.”
His sleepy, drugged smile broke her heart. He’d been through so much. “Hiya, handsome,” she said, stroking his hair. “Welcome back.”
“Mmm. Feels good. Dreamed I was outside my body. Wouldn’t leave you.”
Oh, God. “I’m so happy you stayed. You scared us, honey.”
“Scared me, too.” He closed his eyes for a few minutes. When he opened them again, he was more lucid. Worried. “Jason’s all right?”
“He’s just fine. His arm was grazed by Hodge’s bullet, but nothing more serious than scratches and bruises. He’s almost healed.”
“What happened with the others?”
“Henry Boardman’s dead. Hodge is facing serious prison time for attempted murder and illegal sex trafficking. Kyle, the lily-livered pissant, tried to skip the country, but the Feds caught him at the airport. He and Jenna are being charged as accomplices in everything.”
“Who was that guy I shot? A Fed?” His gaze clouded with worry. “I didn’t quite catch all of what was said, but I know he was about to kill Jason.”
“He’s Reginald Paige, and he was Jason’s supervisor in Virginia, or was before he got placed under arrest.”
“I didn’t kill him.” Alex sank into his pillow a little. “I’m glad I don’t have that on my conscience.”
“Me, too. Besides, he was dirty and deserves to go to prison. He sent Jason on an undercover assignment with Hodge to bring down the sex racket, and, well . . . Jason got caught up in the lifestyle. He had a breakdown over what he perceives as his failure, and Paige was forced to pull him out for a while to keep anyone from knowing what was up.”
“And so Jason shows up in St. Louis, licking his wounds.” Alex blinked, remembering. “That’s it. Agent Campbell mentioned one of their guys having a breakdown on the case. Paige pulled him, and Hodge was looking everywhere for him.”
“Right. Because Hodge didn’t know he was FBI. Paige claimed he knew and that they’d had a good laugh over it, but Jason said Paige was just trying to hurt him more. Hodge didn’t know, or he’d have tracked him down long before that night.”
“Christ, what a fucked-up mess.”
Leaning down, she brushed his lips with hers. “Well, it’s over, and I’m incredibly lucky to be able to sit here, to talk with my husband and kiss him if I want.”
“Are you? Lucky, I mean?”
She noted the smudges under his eyes, the shadows in their depths. He wasn’t si
mply tired and in pain. At least not just physically. “Yes, I am, Alex Quinn! Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of this. The bargain was my idea.”
“I was the one who was tempted to stray.” He looked away, raw anguish on his face. “And that’s what I did. What’s more, I involved us with people who nearly killed us.”
“You had no idea Jenna was out to seduce you because of some sort of secret agenda,” she said firmly. “The way things were between us, I didn’t blame you. I don’t, and I never will. And you weren’t the only one who gave in to temptation.”
He thought a moment, apparently deciding to drop that part of the discussion for now. “Jason is a good man. He’s special, and he fits us.”
“He is. I love him, and I love you.”
“Would you . . . want him to stay?”
“I do. He won’t say much to me until he talks to you, though.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Not really. I think he doesn’t want to make plans regarding the three of us behind your back.”
“I wouldn’t feel that way, but I’m anxious to talk to him.”
“I know. Rest right now and he’ll be by later.”
She couldn’t stop touching him. Reassuring herself that he was alive. Her strokes and caresses lulled him to sleep in minutes.
For the longest time, she watched his chest rise and fall.
And wondered what would happen with the three of them.
The last person Alex expected to see walked through the door a couple of days later. Decidedly less hostile, but far from warm.
He sat up in bed, hating to be at a disadvantage. Then again, he had been for some weeks where this man was concerned.
“Ken. How are things at the office?” He couldn’t very well say it was nice to see Brock, so that pretty much left work stuff.
“Morose. Everybody’s acting like you died, man. Never seen so many glum faces.”
“Except yours, I’ll bet.”
Ken snorted, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Shit, if it was up to me, I’d beat your sorry ass again one more time. For good measure.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” Might as well get it over with, see if crow tasted good. “I owe you an apology, Ken. I should’ve chosen you, and I know that. I was used, but that’s no excuse, and I’m sor rier than you’ll ever know.”
