Spring Into Love

by Chantel Rhondeau

  He regarded me again, glanced at his gun, and then looked back up at Ryan. “I’m pointing it at him, not you. Move!” he said loudly, although not quite shouting this time.

  “Wait a minute, why do you want to point a gun at this guy?” I pointed to Ryan over my shoulder. I still stood directly in front of him and his fear continued to roll over me like a stormy night on the beach. Thank God, I didn’t normally get sea sick.

  The gunman directed his attention back to me, this time keeping eye contact as he spoke. “Because I’m going to kill him. Now move, or I’ll shoot you, too!” His voice rose with each word.

  “Why would you want to kill this guy?” I turned to glance quickly behind me and saw Ryan staring over my head at the man with the gun.

  “Because my wife is in love with him!” he shouted. I almost found this funny. Almost. Half of the world’s population of women was probably in love with the Ryan. He was smoking hot, but you wouldn’t hear me say that out loud to anyone.

  I heard a small grunt behind me, and I wanted to turn around and slug Ryan; instead, I turned myself sideways, and inspected him closely, taking him all the way in. Yeah, he was drop dead gorgeous, but I was able to control my drooling. I learned a long time ago that if someone thought they were good looking, they wouldn’t get a bit of attention from me. It only made them more conceited, and I didn’t feel the need to contribute to that.

  Ryan was peering down at me as I looked him over. Our eyes met for a moment, and when I saw the light blue flecks in his dark blue irises, my heart skipped a beat. I forced myself to turn and face my opponent before I could notice anything else about Ryan.

  “Your wife is having an affair with that?” I made it sound like Ryan was a total loser, but I was purposefully playing on the guy’s feelings.

  I felt Ryan’s body heat against my back as he stepped closer to me—why I didn’t know—but I was torn between wanting to lean back into him and turning around to push him away. I did neither as I observed the profusely sweating man holding the gun in his shaky hand.

  As the guy gawked at me in surprise, he glanced at Ryan. I broke my tunnel vision enough to glance around and saw that there were quite a few armed officers in the area now, but unfortunately, they were not well placed. If one of them tried to fire a shot and missed, it would sail past us and strike someone on the other side. We were at a T intersection of the terminal and there was a growing crowd of onlookers. I had to get this guy to calm down quickly before it escalated.

  “No! She’s not having an affair with him; she’s just in love with him. Everything is about him!” The gun in his hand wobbled up and down with his words. “She has pictures of him everywhere in our house and she is constantly watching his damn movies and telling me I need to look more like him.” He said the last part bitterly; and, if it was because he was being honest with himself, there was no chance in hell he’d ever come anywhere close to looking like Ryan.

  “So you want to kill him, why?” I asked quietly, as I drug out the last word, trying to keep him calm so that I could continue to talk to him.

  He furrowed his forehead, and anger passed over his features. He pointed the shaky gun out further toward us. “If he’s dead, then she can’t love him anymore,” he said sternly. I didn’t think his reasoning was very sound, but, hey, whatever; they were his thoughts, not mine.

  “I don’t think killing him is the answer.” I took a slow deep breath and hoped that what I was about to say would get his attention long enough so that I could get the gun away from him. “If you kill him, you will go to jail, and then you won’t have your wife at all.” I took a very small step toward the man, more of a foot shuffle then a step. “Is that what you want?”

  The man scrutinized me, tilting his head to the side, and then glanced over my head at Ryan. He was thinking about what I said. I could almost see the hamster wheel turning in his mind. I took another small shuffle in his direction.

  He glanced down at the floor, and for a second, I thought maybe he noticed my foot shuffle. I took the opportunity to make eye contact with one of the armed officers. I put my hand out to the side as if I was pushing something away. He seemed to understand and he murmured into his lapel mic. I watched as he and two others started to move slowly backward, just a few feet.

  I nodded as I saw the movement in the corner of my eye stop. These guys were good, I had to give them that.

  “No. Of course I don’t want to go to jail. I would rather be dead!” He glared at me, squinting his hazel eyes behind his wire-framed glasses.

  He surveyed the onlookers who gathered, and I took the opportunity to take another small step toward him. I was only a couple of feet from him now.

  “You don’t really want to die. Imagine the pain that would cause your wife.” My voice was soft to keep the conversation between us and away from all of the noisy people who were gathering.

  “Yeah, I do.” He glared hard at me now and a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face.

  I maintained eye contact with him, keeping my hands low and in front of me with my palms out to show him I was not a threat. I heard some commotion off to my right, and when I heard the voice, I almost laughed.

  “Really, Jack!” a female’s voice called out just loudly enough for me to hear. I fought back the laughter when I realized that Becca’s plane must have landed, and she was now standing there being held back behind security until we got this issue resolved. If she was able to, she would’ve walked right into the scene with me.

  “I don’t think you really do.” I cocked my head to the side as I continued to study the man. “Why don’t you give me the gun before someone gets hurt?”

  He tensed as I spoke, glancing over his shoulders again at the police officers who were surrounding all of us. Two had rifles trained on him, they could easily take him out at their distance, but there was a chance that the bullet would pierce his body and travel through to strike someone on the opposite side.

  “No,” he said and stepped back, pointing the gun at my head as he raised it. Okay…not a good feeling. My heart sped in my chest as the adrenaline pumped harder. I heard Ryan shift behind me, but I didn’t move. I saw the officers on both sides of us tense. I pushed my hands down toward the ground, hoping that the officers might catch it and calm down a moment before they tried to neutralize the threat.

  “I know you don’t really want to hurt him. If you do that, it will only hurt your wife and your family, and then you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail.” My voice belied my racing heart and remained calm. I should get an Oscar for my performance here; maybe Ryan could nominate me. That is, if we lived through it.

  “But what am I supposed to do?” he asked, and I realized that I had just hit a crucial point. He was responding to me.

  “Hand me the gun, and we can figure it out.” I took a step closer to him and started to raise my left hand toward the gun, keeping my palm open and low.

  I heard gasps and murmurs all around us. I could see flashes going off, bouncing off the glass of the terminal walls, and I knew people had cell phones and cameras out and were snapping away at the dramatic scene in front of them.

  I locked my eyes on his. He glanced around nervously and then back at me. He now had the gun pointed at my chest again.

  “Please,” I said, and took one very slow step toward him.

  He stared at me for a long moment, and then contemplated his gun. He nodded once, and everything around us got quiet. Like really quiet, like dead silent. Maybe it was just my tunnel vision kicking back in that blocked everything else out, but I think every person watching stopped breathing at the very moment that I took my next step. I was so focused on what I was about to do, that I neither paid attention, nor cared, what anyone else did. It only mattered what happened in the next few seconds.

  I slowly reached out with my left hand to take the gun from him. It was still pointed at my chest, but he was lowering it. I searched his face for any adjustments that might mean he wa
s changing his mind. Just as my hand came in contact with the barrel of the gun, everything moved in slow motion.

  I stepped forward with my left foot and planted it solidly on the ground. As my hand wrapped over the top of the gun covering the slide, I pulled up on the gun, and his hand released its grip. I twisted slightly to the left, bringing my right leg up to hip level and extending it directly into his midsection. It must have been the extra adrenaline that rushed through me, because he flew about eight feet back and slammed into the thick glass observation wall.

  I immediately grabbed the gun with my other hand, pushed the button on the grip to release the magazine and slid back the top slide. I heard the magazine clank to the ground and watched as the chambered bullet flew out and rolled away. I locked the slide back and flipped the gun upside down to hang on my finger with my arms above my head. I was not a threat, and I wanted everyone to know that.

  Four officers jumped on the guy as soon as he landed on the ground. The gunman was too surprised to fight and laid there considering me with hurt in his eyes. I turned away to look at an officer who was coming toward me. He reached to grab the gun from me, and I pulled it back.

  “Either put gloves on or give me an evidence bag. You don’t want your prints on this.” He looked surprised, but nodded and pulled out some nitrile gloves from his belt pouch.

  Another officer approached, and I glanced over my shoulder to where Ryan and his group were all huddled around each other. The woman he had been talking to earlier had her arms wrapped tightly around him. His back was to me, which I told myself I was grateful for.

  “You might want to get them someplace secure.” I smiled at the new officer and tipped my head toward the group.

  He spun around to talk to someone and then looked back at me just as Becca walked up. “Jack, I can’t take you anywhere can I?” She laughed.

  “It’s your fault. Your plane was late.” I joined in with her laughter. My adrenaline still ran high and laughing was the easiest way to deal with it. I would crash later and wonder what the hell had possessed me to do what I’d done.

  “I assume you’re a badge?” A new officer with the Sergeant stripes on his arm asked as he watched the banter between Rebecca and me.

  I nodded. “Where do you want me to write my statement?” I raised my eyebrows in question as I slipped my shaking hands into the pockets of my cargo pants.

  He laughed and started to walk away as he led us to an unmarked doorway. He put a piece of plastic up to the panel, and the lock released. As I went to step through the frame, I turned one last time and found Ryan watching me with an intense look on his face. It was a look I didn’t want to acknowledge, so I stepped through the doorway instead.

  “Can you make sure I’m kept separate from that group back there?” I asked the Sergeant who was leading us.

  He glanced at me, and I smiled shyly and shrugged. “Sure,” he said while he led us into a group of offices. Several officers were milling around, and I saw a television hanging in the corner above everyone’s heads. Seeing the TV reminded me that during the incident, there were numerous flashes. I wondered how bad the fallout was going to be and where my photos would show up. I physically cringed at that thought. I hated attention.

  The Sergeant walked me back to a sparse interview room and I sat down to fill out the paperwork that the prosecutor would need from me as a witness. I waited while the Sergeant read it over and we both signed the form. He asked me a couple more questions and then told me I was free to go.

  As we got up to move out of the room, I heard Becca laughing in the hallway. I rounded the corner and saw her staring up at the television. “It’s all over the news!” She laughed.

  Great! I turned back to the Sergeant. “Do you think you could get me out a back way? I really don’t want to deal with that circus,” I said as I pointed at the television. They were already interviewing witnesses.

  “What? You don’t want your moment in the spotlight? You just saved that guy’s life!” I wasn’t sure if he meant Ryan or the man who held the gun, but either way, a life had been saved—maybe two or three if you counted mine.

  “Not my idea of a spotlight.” I laughed softly. “I would appreciate a bit of professional courtesy. Could you possibly not tell them who I am? The Palmer group that is?”

  He considered my words for a moment. “Wow, you really don’t like the spotlight, do you?” He grinned. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

  Becca and I followed him down another hallway. A few minutes later, we were out of the maze of halls and in the parking lot. With no press around, we quickly made it to my truck without seeing anyone.

  It wasn’t until we climbed into my Jeep that Becca spoke. “You do realize that you just saved the hottest man on the planet, don’t you?”

  “Whatever, Rebecca.”

  “If I were you, I would have been all over that! How come you didn’t want him to know who you were?” I turned to her as I backed out of the parking space.

  “Why would I? The last thing I need, or want, is some crazy thank you. They would turn this into a huge publicity stunt.” She laughed as I put the vehicle into drive.

  “I can’t figure you out. You just saved a man’s life—not to mention the hottest freaking actor alive—and you don’t even want him to know your name. You never know, maybe he might want to give you a personal thank you gift.” She nudged my arm with her hand, and when I peered at her, she winked.

  “Oh, give me a break, Rebecca. He’s not my type,” I muttered as I pulled up to the window and paid for my parking.

  “Jacquelyn Liveon, you are the strangest person I know. Anyone else would be begging for that guy’s attention. You could have it and yet you turn and run away.” She was shaking her head at me.

  “I’m not running away. I just don’t need the attention, Rebecca. Can we just drop this? How was your training?” I pulled away from the tollbooth and we headed for the highway.

  Chapter 2

  October – Ryan

  “I like the property Ryan,” Kayla said grinning up at me. I gave her a terse smile back. “The area is so large, and so country. The horses in the back are the perfect touch.”

  “I think it will work out pretty good. It’s nice and secluded, but not too far from anything,” I replied. We were standing outside of the security checkpoint in the United Airways terminal waiting for the last member of our group to join us before taking a quick flight to Los Angeles for a last minute change to a production that we just wrapped up.

  I glanced around like I usually do when I’m out in public. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and while I tried to blend in, I knew I never did. People always looked at me. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was splashed over every tabloid in the world and had eight box office hits in the last four years, I might have been able to blend in better. Unfortunately, I could no longer do that. No matter where I went, there were people watching me and snapping pictures.

  Just like the two girls standing over by the glass wall. I tried to turn away from them, but I knew they had already gotten a few shots in with their cell phone cameras. They would be on Facebook within minutes, they always were. I glanced back over at them as they giggled and noticed a police officer walk over to them and escort them out. As I looked away, I noticed another woman standing against a pillar.

  She was smiling as the officer led the girls away. Her cell phone was in her hand. Was she taking pictures of me, too? Somehow, she didn’t seem the type, but I can never really tell. I studied her as she turned my way and met my questioning gaze. We only considered each other for a few seconds before she put her phone back in her cargo pants’ pocket, shaking her head.

  I examined her for a few more seconds; she had a very confident air about her. She was leaning on a support post watching the people in the terminal. The tan cargo pants with her un-tucked brown T-shirt made her look rather earthy. She had a physical look about her, and I watched as her eyes constantly roved over the are
a.

  “So when are we moving in?” Kayla asked. I tore my gaze away from the woman. I wasn’t sure why Kayla thought she was moving in with me, we had only been seeing each other for a few months. I was already tired of her constant chatter and endless need to be in the spotlight all the time.

  I ignored her question as I spoke with my agent, Beth, for a minute. “How much longer do we have to wait? Why don’t we go down to the gate? I can’t afford to miss this flight.”

  “Yeah, we should probably head down that way.” The answer didn’t come from Beth, it came from Troy, my body guard. Troy, a longtime friend of mine, was big enough to be opposing and smart enough to know when to use his strength. He was also the one I enjoyed hanging around with to hide from the real world, drinking a few beers and watching football or hockey on television.

  As we waited for Beth and her two friends to get their identification and tickets out for security, I glanced around again and saw that the woman who was leaning against the pillar earlier was now standing up straight and scanning the area, very alert. Her arms were at her side, and her chin up as she looked at a group of people. Just as I was about to look away, she eyeballed me again. Our gaze held longer this time, and I waited until she broke the connection. Kayla kept talking beside me as our entire group made its way to security. I was good with selective hearing, so I tuned out her endless chatter.

  I walked ahead of my group, and Kayla and Troy quickly caught up to me, but stayed behind me. Beth and her friends lagged, but I wasn’t worried about it. I could hear Troy and Kayla as they talked about their seating arrangements, and I mulled over how to tell Kayla that she wasn’t moving in with me.

  Just before we entered the security line, I felt a hand on my arm as it pushed me with enough force to be more than a casual brush. I stopped and turned around to find a man standing in front of me with a gun pointed at me. Shock made me motionless. I glanced down and realized that there was someone between us. It was the woman in the tan cargos. How had she gotten next to me, and why was the guy pointing a gun at me?