Reckonings

by Cynthia Eden

  So he was sane enough to have planned all of this. Sane enough to have an alibi in place...

  But enough of a monster that he’d still committed so many terrible acts.

  “I’m so glad you were looking for me, too,” he whispered.

  “I wasn’t looking for you.” Jamie wished she could have taken those words back. She was playing this scene wrong. If she wanted to live, she should be telling him what he wanted to hear.

  But I can’t. I—

  “You sent me letters. Sent my father letters. Saying you’d never forget.” His smile was tender now. “I tracked down those notes and the flowers.”

  Flowers?

  “You kept them until they died...because they were our flowers. I gave you roses on all of our dates. I remembered. So did you.”

  She hadn’t remembered. She’d tried so hard to forget.

  “The florist...she described you. I knew you were trying to send me a message, so I made it my mission to find you.”

  I didn’t. I didn’t!

  “And now you’re here,” he said. His fingers stroked her cheek. “We can be together. Always.”

  * * *

  “SO WE’RE GOING in hard and fast?” Grant asked as he checked his weapon.

  “Hell, yes,” Davis snapped. The dizziness had passed. Only his fury remained. They were about fifty yards away from the white house—the house with the peeling paint. The house that was adjacent to Jamie’s property. The place had been on the market for years.

  But the home had sold a few weeks ago. A cash purchase. And Davis knew with utter certainty who’d moved into that home.

  “We can wait for the cops,” Mac said, his voice quiet. They were all being quiet because the last thing they wanted to do was tip off the guy inside. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”

  “What if she doesn’t have ten minutes?” He didn’t know what was happening in that building. Jamie could need him. Henry could be hurting her. She could—

  He heard a scream. High-pitched, desperate. Coming from inside that house. Davis didn’t hesitate. He shot up from the cover of the trees and ran as fast as he could.

  Hold on, Jamie! Hold on, sweetheart. I’m coming for you.

  * * *

  THE BLADE STABBED into Jamie’s shoulder, and she screamed because she hadn’t expected the attack. One minute, Henry had been smiling at her. Telling her about the “always” that they would have together. And the next...

  He’d stabbed her.

  “You distracted me,” Henry growled at her now. “Just realized...you never said...you never said you didn’t love him, Jamie.”

  He pulled the blade out. The pain was white-hot, burning. Exactly as she remembered. She’d never forgotten the feel of a knife slicing into her.

  “Say you don’t love him, Jamie.” He was crouched right above her. That knife dripping with her blood. The blade so very sharp. “Say it!”

  “Untie my hands.”

  He blinked.

  “Untie my hands. Cut the rope away from my feet.”

  He lifted the knife, seemingly ready to stab her again.

  “Do you love me?” Jamie asked him, rushing out those words.

  The knife froze. “Yes, yes, of course I do.”

  He was even more unstable now than he’d been before.

  “Don’t you want me to hold you? To hug you? It’s been so long since we’ve been together...” If she could get him to slice away the ropes, then she’d have a fighting chance. “I’m not going to run.” Yes, yes I am. As fast as I can. “Cut the ropes.”

  He looked at the knife. Then at her ropes. And he actually started to slice at the ropes around her feet. Yes!

  The ropes gave way, and feeling rushed back to her feet. It was painful, like pins were being pushed into her soles.

  Footsteps were pounding. Racing outside.

  “Jamie!” Her name was a roar of anger and fear.

  Shock rippled across Henry’s face, and then he was lunging upright. He spun toward the front door just as it was kicked open. Davis stood there, filling the doorway, his chest heaving. Mac and Grant were right behind him.

  “No!” Henry yelled. He grabbed Jamie. Put the knife to her throat. “You don’t get to have her! Stay back! Stay away or I will slice her throat open!’

  Davis froze. His gaze jerked to Jamie’s. He looked so pale. She could see blood on his shirt. The faint lines on his face were deeper, and he seemed so haggard as he gazed at her.

  “Jamie,” Davis whispered. There was so much emotion in his voice. So much longing.

  Henry yanked her back, and they stumbled around the couch. Her hands were still bound, but her feet were free.

  Davis had his gun up and aimed—aimed at Henry’s head because the rest of the guy’s body was behind her. He’s using me as his shield.

  Mac and Grant were armed, too. And they’d slid around a few feet, moving deeper into the house.

  She had the feeling that as soon as one of those men felt they had a clear shot, they’d be taking it.

  More blood. More death.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Jamie said. She hurt for them all in that moment. Her brother. Herself. Even Henry. Things could have been so different for everyone. “Let me go, Henry. You can get help, you can—”

  “They can’t help me. They can’t fix what’s wrong. Not with the drugs or the therapy. I don’t want to be fixed! I like the way I feel...” His hold hardened on her. “I’m all powerful. You’re going to see that, Jamie. They’re all going to see it.”

  “Let her go,” Davis said.

  But Henry called back, “Drop your guns or I will slit her throat right in front of you.”

  Davis hesitated.

  “If you love her,” Henry blasted. “Drop the gun! Make them all drop their guns!”

  And Davis dropped his gun.

  Tears slid down Jamie’s cheeks.

  “Drop the guns,” Davis said to his brothers.

  They lowered their weapons.

  “Kick them all toward me,” Henry immediately ordered.

  They did.

  “Now let her go,” Davis said. “You’ve got what you want—”

  “Not yet, I don’t.” In a lightning fast move, Henry dropped the knife and scooped up one of the weapons. Davis’s gun. He aimed that gun at Davis. “Jamie, tell him that you don’t love him.”

  She stared into Davis’s eyes.

  “Tell him.”

  He was going to kill Davis. She knew it with utter certainty. It didn’t matter what she said.

  So I’ll just tell him the truth.

  “Davis...”

  He shook his head. “No, sweetheart...” Davis sounded tormented.

  “I love you.” So simple. So true.

  “What? No!” And Henry whirled her toward him. That was what she’d wanted. For him to take his aim off Davis. To focus on her. “You can’t! You love me!”

  Jamie threw her body at him. They collided in a tangle of limbs, and the gun exploded.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When the gun fired, Davis felt his heart stop. Jamie, please, no! He flew across the room. Henry had risen, and the bastard was aiming his gun again. Preparing to fire at Jamie as she lay on the floor. She was bleeding. He could see the blood soaking her shirt, and fury drove him to the edge. He caught Henry’s hand. Snapped the guy’s wrist. The gun fell to the floor, and Davis punched him.

  Again.

  Again.

  He heard bones crunch when he broke Henry’s nose.

  Henry was trying to fight back. Punching and clawing, but Davis wasn’t going to be stopped. This was the man who’d hurt Jamie. The man who’d made her life a hell.

 
The man who tried to take her from me. He wasn’t going to stop. He’d—

  Mac pulled him back. Henry sagged to his knees on the floor, not fighting any longer. Hardly seeming to move any longer.

  “She’s okay,” Mac told him.

  Davis just stared at Henry. Destroy.

  Mac shook him hard. “She’s okay! The bullet didn’t hit her. I think—he must have stabbed her. That’s why she screamed before. Look. Look.” He jerked Davis’s head to the right. Grant had pulled Jamie to the side. As Davis watched, his older brother kept applying pressure to a wound on Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie stared back at Davis, dazed. “She’s alive, man,” Mac told him. “You found her. She’s safe.”

  He shoved Mac back and ran to Jamie. Her hands were still tied, and he yanked at the ropes to free her. Then her hands slipped around him. She kissed him. He kissed her. He felt some of the terrible fear and fury slide back enough so that he could think.

  Jamie. My Jamie is with me.

  “I knew you’d find me,” she told him, voice husky. “He said you wouldn’t, but I knew...”

  He pulled back, just enough to stare into her eyes.

  “I trust you,” she said.

  “And I love you,” Davis told her. He kissed her again. Held her tight. So tight. He never wanted to be that afraid again. He never wanted to be apart from her.

  He needed Jamie. Her smiles. Her warmth. Her wit.

  Her.

  “You can’t love him!”

  Davis stiffened at Henry’s sharp cry.

  “Jamie, you can’t. I don’t know why you lie.”

  Davis pulled Jamie close. He helped her rise to her feet, and they turned to face Henry. Mac had a gun aimed at him, but Henry wasn’t looking at the weapon.

  His gaze was focused totally on Jamie.

  Blood dripped from his broken nose, but he ignored that, too. He ignored everything but Jamie. He was curled on the floor, his body hunched over, but his eyes locked on Jamie.

  “You’ll always love me,” he told her as he slowly began to uncurl his body and stand. “Just as I’ll always love you. No one will keep us apart. I’ll see to that.” He smiled. “So they give me therapy again. It will slow me down for...what? A few months? Maybe a year? Then I’ll be out again. I’ll find you, wherever you go...whatever you do... I’ll find you.” He was on his feet. “You’ll never be free because you’ll always be mine. Mine.” His hand had slipped down inside of his shirt, as if he were reaching for something.

  He’d been curled on the floor—dammit, the knife! Had the guy reached for the discarded weapon?

  Davis tensed and tried to push Jamie behind him. Where had the guy put the knife from earlier? Where—

  “Always, mine!” Henry shouted, and he yanked a knife from under his shirt. He lunged at Davis and Jamie.

  “No!” The terrified shout came from behind Henry.

  But...Henry ignored the shout.

  Once again, gunfire blasted.

  And Henry couldn’t ignore the gunfire...because the bullet had hit him in the chest.

  Henry staggered. The knife was still in his tight grip as he looked down at his chest. “J-Jamie?”

  Davis had pushed her behind him. He’d been ready to take the hit from that knife but...

  But Mac had fired before Henry could hurt anyone else.

  Henry’s knees sagged, and he fell to the floor.

  “No!” It was the same desperate cry that Davis had heard before the gunfire. A cry coming from the open front door.

  An older man rushed into the house. His brown hair was tousled, as if he’d raked his hand through it over and over, his eyes, the same shade of ice-blue as Henry’s, were wild with grief and pain. He fell to the floor beside Henry, and he rolled his body over. “Henry, no!”

  Sullivan rushed into the house behind the stranger. His gaze flew around the room, and he exhaled in relief when he saw his brothers.

  Then he strode toward Davis.

  “I need an ambulance!” the older man yelled.

  Jamie slipped around Davis. She stared at Henry’s prone body. He was still alive but bleeding heavily.

  “We came in quietly,” Sullivan muttered. “Just in case...” He looked back at Henry, and his face tensed. “His father and I both got into the airport at the same time. We flew in on the guy’s jet and got here as fast as we could. Garrison over there—he located this place on the ride here. Seems Henry bought it under one of the company’s umbrella accounts.”

  Grant stalked toward Mac. Mac still had his weapon in his hand. Grant’s fingers closed around Mac’s shoulder.

  “I couldn’t let him hurt our brother,” Mac said, his voice wooden. “I couldn’t.”

  Cops came spilling into the house then. Earlier, Mac had said they were ten minutes out, and it looked as though that had been true.

  Ten minutes...

  Too late.

  The cops took the weapon from Mac. He put his hands up.

  “He had to shoot!” Jamie cried out. “Henry had a knife. He wasn’t going to stop. He would have killed me.”

  She spoke with such certainty. And Davis realized that, deep down, Jamie had always realized that truth. Henry Westport had been fixated on her since she was a teenager. He’d never had any intention of letting Jamie go.

  When Davis glanced at the older man—Henry’s father—he saw the older man flinch.

  You knew he’d kill her, too. Maybe that was why the guy had gone looking for Sean Nyle. Because he was trying to stop the monster already in motion.

  Davis wrapped his arm around Jamie. “She needs medical treatment!”

  “I need you,” Jamie whispered. The EMTs were rushing toward her, but she turned in his arms. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

  “Ma’am...” one of the EMTs began. “Ma’am, that’s a lot of blood loss.”

  Yes, it was. “Go with them, sweetheart.” He leaned down. Kissed her. “I’ll be with you.” Letting her out of his sight anytime soon? Not a possibility. Hell, no.

  He’d never been that afraid, and he hadn’t even realized he’d had so much to lose. Not until Jamie was gone.

  She smiled at him. A beautiful sight, one that made his heart ache. The EMT led her through the house. Davis followed right behind her.

  “This stays out of the news, do you hear me?” The older man was snapping to the cop even as he kept his gaze on Henry’s prone form. EMTs were examining him, but Davis knew there was nothing that could be done. “I don’t want a word of this leaking to the media. My son will not be remembered as—”

  Something snapped in Davis right then. He grabbed the guy, his hands fisting in his shirtfront. “He kidnapped her!”

  Jamie turned to look back at him.

  “He drugged her. He stabbed her.”

  The man’s eyes widened.

  “Look around, dammit! This isn’t some romantic getaway. He had her tied up. He had a knife to her throat when I burst into this room. You want the world to think of him as a saint? Too bad. That’s not happening. And you know what else? He’s not the only one at fault.” Fury bit through each word. “You paid people to lie. You bought his freedom when you knew he was dangerous. You could have stopped this...you could have saved her brother’s life. You could have saved Sean Nyle.” He looked over at Henry. “And maybe you could have even saved him if you hadn’t been so damn concerned with your image.” An image he was about to see wrecked just as he’d wrecked—

  “Davis...” Jamie whispered. “Please...you said you’d come with me.” She lifted her hand toward him. Her fingers shook. “I just want to be with you.”

  A shudder shook him as he fought to get his rage under control. Then he nodded. And he took her hand. But he sent one last glare at his prey. “I will be seeing yo
u again.” No way did that guy get to escape scot-free for the things he’d done.

  His fingers twined with Jamie’s. Jamie. Safe. Alive. With him.

  They climbed into the back of the ambulance. The EMT started cutting away Jamie’s shirt.

  As she was lowered onto the stretcher inside, Jamie’s head turned and her gaze met his. “I don’t have to be afraid anymore, do I?”

  “No, sweetheart, you don’t.”

  “No more ghosts.” Again, that faint smile curved her lips.

  “No more ghosts,” he agreed. If he had his way, she’d only know joy for the rest of her life.

  “I knew you’d come,” Jamie said. “I figured...I just had to stay alive long enough for you to arrive.”

  What if she hadn’t? His fingers tightened around hers. “When they told me you were gone...” My world stopped, Jamie. Everything stopped for me. He cleared his throat. “Jamie—”

  The siren screamed on. He looked through the open doors of the ambulance. Grant had walked outside, and his brother’s stare was on him. Mac stood a few feet away, talking with some uniformed cops.

  Mac had killed to protect Jamie. When it came to family, you’d do anything necessary.

  Jamie is family. She’s everything to me.

  The doors slammed shut.

  “Jamie...” Davis cleared his throat. This wasn’t the right time, he knew that. But today he’d learned that waiting would do no good. There was no perfect moment in life. Never a perfect time. There was just the here and now, and to be happy, you had to seize that moment—right then. “Jamie, I meant what I said before. I love you.”

  He wanted her to know that. To understand—always.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered back.

  The ambulance rushed forward, and they left her past behind.

  * * *

  HENRY WESTPORT WAS DEAD. She’d never look into the shadows and wonder if he was lurking there. Never nervously peer over her shoulder to see if he was following her. He was gone.