Running Target

by Kari Lemor

  Moving closer, Cabrini motioned for him to turn around. Still not close enough to make a move on. He rotated, slowly. Callie’s tear-ravaged eyes stared at him and his heart bled. Fury bubbled through him at the red mark growing on her face. Cabrini had hit her? Had he hurt her any other way? Hurt the baby?

  Victor patted him down and he closed his eyes when the man found his gun. Was that his last hope? He looked at Callie, hated the terror he saw in her eyes. Would this be his final vision of her? If it was, she needed to know how much she meant to him.

  “I love you, Calico,” he whispered.

  A tiny smile crept on her face as more tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “Isn’t this sweet,” Cabrini sneered. “Well, I’m going to help you here. Soon you’ll both be together forever. Six feet under.”

  Jack turned around again, glaring at the mob boss who still held the gun straight at him. Jack’s gun was in his other hand. He carelessly tossed it aside.

  “Before I kill you, I need to know exactly who you are and who you work for.”

  He swallowed hard. What did it matter if Cabrini knew his identity? One of them wouldn’t be around much longer. Be positive you’ll survive this. You have to.

  “Special Agent Jonathan Holland, FBI. My friends call me Jack.”

  “Jonathan? Of course. Callina insisted she name the baby Jonathan. Wouldn’t hear of naming him after Angelo. Now I see why.”

  Victor shook his head as he growled, “FBI. Can’t believe Tony hired an FBI agent to be my chauffeur. Stupidity.”

  Victor’s anger made him lower the gun slightly but it was enough for Jack to take a step forward and kick the weapon out of his hand. He followed with a knee to the gut and when Victor was still standing, albeit hunched over, he threw his fist into his face. Hitting him again and again, the mobster finally fell back into the snow.

  Wasting no time, he slipped his knife from his pocket, opened it and cut Callie’s bindings. Her arms fell and landed around his neck, clinging to him. Now wasn’t the time but he’d like to spend eternity like this. Giving her a quick kiss, he ordered, “Get out of here. I’ll take care of Victor.”

  “Unless he takes care of you first,” Victor hissed, from behind him. A hard cylinder pressed against Jack’s neck. The knife was yanked from his hand. Pushing her away with his other hand, Jack hoped she’d take the hint to run.

  “Now I can finish the job my son didn’t.”

  Agony slashed through him as Victor shoved the knife into his lower back. Colors starburst and swirled across his vision then exploded into shades of red. White-hot pain pulsated and intensified. He tried to speak but no sound came out of his mouth. Callie’s distraught face matched the scream issuing from her lips. He pushed again and finally mouthed, “Run.”

  She stumbled away, her expression torn between concern and fear. Yeah, he’d been there before. How many times had he walked away from her and Jonathan, knowing it was what he needed to do, not what he wanted to do?

  His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, reaching for the knife. He couldn’t catch his breath; the pain coursed through him, escalating and throbbing.

  “That’s just punishment for people who stab me in the back. And this.”

  Victor lifted his gun, pointing straight at Callie’s retreating back. He didn’t know where the strength came from but he swung his arm up, knocking Victor’s aim askew. The gun went off anyway.

  Callie fell to the ground with a cry. No. She clutched her leg, blood staining the snow around her.

  * * * *

  Callie pushed past the pain as she fell. Jack was still on the ground, barely able to hold himself up. Victor walked toward her, his gun wavering between the two of them. Would she watch the man she loved more than life itself die before her eyes? Would she be first, making Jack witness her death? The ache in her leg was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.

  I love you, Calico. The words echoed in her mind. She’d wanted to hear them for so long but now it wouldn’t matter. Not if Victor had his way. At least the authorities had the evidence about him. He wouldn’t be allowed to ruin any more lives. Or corrupt her son. One good thing would come out of this.

  “Hmm, how do I do this?” Victor mused, a nasty grin on his face. He was enjoying this, the bastard. He looked back and forth between them. Jack attempted to stand but barely managed to crawl a few feet in her direction.

  “Anyone wish to volunteer? Or should I be polite and let the lady go first?” He swung the gun in Callie’s direction. Something inside her snapped. She’d be dead in a few minutes, if not sooner, so she had nothing to lose.

  “You are a despicable, evil person, Victor, and it’s a good thing Angelo was killed so he wouldn’t turn out to be just like you. A monster with no redeeming qualities. Maybe I won’t live to see it, but I’m glad I got the evidence to put you away for good, someplace you’ll never hurt people again.”

  “Don’t be too sure, my dear. About that anyway. You are correct about not living to see it.” He aimed the gun at her head.

  She closed her eyes, waiting for the shot but they flew open again when Jack stumbled in front of her, then slumped against her on the ground. A slight moan escaped from his throat. Wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, she held on tight, burying her face in his neck. The snow underneath them chilled her but not as much as the thought of what Victor was planning.

  “Cabrini,” Jack pleaded, his voice shaky. The wind rustled past, stealing his words. What else could he say? Victor couldn’t be talked out of this.

  She clung tightly, trying to be brave. But not as brave as Jack. The pain must have been excruciating to get over here, but he had done it to protect her. To keep her safe till the end. It wouldn’t be enough.

  Victor cackled as his finger tightened on the trigger, aiming right at Jack’s chest. She hugged him closer, wanting to feel his hardness, smell his musky scent, taste the salt on his skin, one last time. The blast of the gun echoed in the empty woods along with her scream.

  “Jack!” Sobbing, she pulled him tight to her, not wanting to let him go. But he still held himself up, barely. Had Victor missed? He’d been standing so close.

  Looking up, her eyes focused on the man who’d stolen so much from her over the years as he jolted and fell to his knees, crimson staining his pristine white shirt. What? Snow crunched from behind her and she whipped her head around. Had the cavalry shown up? Perfect timing.

  A figure moved forward, bundled in a long, dark coat. He circled around, looked down at Victor, then turned the gun on them. Tony Pascucci.

  * * * *

  “Tony,” Victor cried from where he lay huddled on the ground, blood discoloring the snow from the wound in his chest. “What have you done?”

  What had he done? Pascucci had always been loyal to a fault. Why would he shoot Victor? He’d never liked her. She doubted he had some sense of righteousness that made him want to save her.

  “Victor.” A sly smile grew on Pascucci’s face. “I didn’t want to do this but you left me no choice. I was willing to wait a few more years, hoping the stress would finally get to you, but you’ve been making too many mistakes lately.”

  “What?” Victor’s voice grew weak, though the anger and arrogance still came.

  “I want your empire. I thought it would be a done deal when your chauffeur took out Angelo. With a little help from me.”

  “What did you do? You helped this agent kill my son?”

  “No,” Jack piped in, his voice not much stronger than Victor’s. “But when I left, Angelo was still alive. Always wondered why…he didn’t make it…and I did. I was hurt worse.”

  “Yes, but he was still seriously wounded. All it took was a little bit of time and he finally had no chance of living.”

  “You let my son bleed to death,” Victor roared, then coughed and folded in
on himself. “How could you do that?”

  “I knew what was in your will. I figured with Angelo out of the way, my path was clear to inherit everything of yours. Until the bitch found out she was pregnant. You doted on the kid like he was freakin’ made of gold.”

  “Is it why you always glared at him?” Callie finally spoke up. “Are you the one who poisoned him?”

  “No, Steve’s new partner did,” Jack informed her. “Trying to draw me out into the open.”

  When had he learned that information? Not that they’d had time for a chat since this morning. Had it just been this morning she’d given him the file?

  “I don’t kill kids,” Pascucci spit out. “It’s not my style. I want to focus more on the legitimate aspects of Victor’s empire. He could make millions every year and not have to worry about the law wanting to take him down.” He looked at Victor, still squirming in the snow. “But he thinks the ‘business’ is too important.”

  “It’s what keeps you alive, Tony, you’ll find that out.”

  “Actually, Victor, I have a few friends willing to buy that part of your ‘business’ once I get my hands on it. And they’ve offered a pretty penny for it. Now I only have to get rid of the little heir to the fortune.”

  Ice froze her blood. He meant Jonathan. “But you said you didn’t kill children.”

  “I don’t. But I can grab him and send him far away. Italy is a nice place and I have relatives who would love a cute little kid like him.”

  “He’s not Angelo’s,” Jack’s voice was gruff but Callie loved hearing it. He’d gotten heavy in her arms and she thought he’d passed out. She’d refused to think it was anything more.

  Pascucci looked curiously at him. “Not Angelo’s? What are you talking about? She was seeing him at the time.”

  “He’s my son.”

  Three little words but ones Jack had wanted to shout to the world. He finally had. But would he be able to say them to anyone else? Would Pascucci want them dead, or could they talk their way out of this? Callie’s hopes flared to life but whatever happened, had to happen fast. Her leg had long gone numb and Jack was slumping heavier against her every second.

  Pascucci looked at her, for confirmation. She nodded.

  “I never slept with Angelo. He was using me to cover that he was gay. I was only seeing him to get information for the FBI.”

  Pascucci laughed. “That’s a hoot. You know Angelo babbled a few things about cheating on you before he died. Didn’t realize the rest.”

  Victor made a garbled sound and Pascucci walked over to check him out. Could she get Jack out of here while he was busy? Pushing up, she tried to stand but her leg was useless and wouldn’t get far. She attempted again but Jack was too heavy and with the blood she’d lost, she didn’t have the strength.

  “Tony?” Could she appeal to his human side by using his first name? “You won’t hurt Jonathan, will you? Please.”

  “No reason to,” he said, carelessly then kicked at Victor’s side. “He’s dead. And he’s got no heir. Which means I inherit everything the law doesn’t confiscate. And there are quite a few legal businesses I’ve built up. I might have a case against them being closed down.”

  “What about us?” she asked nervously. He might seem like he wanted to go legit but they were loose ends. Would he want to take care of them?

  “Yes, what about you two? Good question.”

  “You’re holding my gun,” Jack stated, gazing at the weapon the man still held. “You can either stay…we’ll say you saved us from Victor…which you did. Or you can…walk out of here. I’ll say…I shot Victor in self-defense…after he shot Callie…and stabbed me.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  Pascucci narrowed his eyes and looked at the gun in his hands. “I did save you when I shot Victor, didn’t I? How very brave of me. You’d seriously let the cops know this? That could go a long way in my case to take over some of the legitimate businesses.”

  “It’s the truth,” Callie said. They needed to get medical help and soon. Jack was fading away. She couldn’t lose him. To get this far and still spend her life without him, too unfair.

  Pascucci nodded.

  “On one condition,” Callie added, her mind thinking of the future. “You get rid of the price on Jack’s head. Take the hit off him. Can you do that?”

  Pascucci smirked. “With Victor dead and no pay off guaranteed, that’s easy. But I’ll even make a few phone calls to make sure.”

  “Thank you.” Callie was thankful, but they still needed help. “Now any possibility you could phone for an ambulance?”

  The sound of footsteps running over snow and through branches met their ears. Pascucci lowered the gun to the ground and raised his hands in the air. “I don’t think I’ll need to. Looks like help has arrived.”

  Chapter 23

  “Now remember, keep the leg elevated as much as possible and don’t go walking on it if you don’t need to.”

  Heather fussed around the living room as Callie settled on the couch, her leg propped on a footstool. Since being released from the hospital a few days ago, Heather hadn’t left her side. She was a good friend, the best.

  “Yes, Mother,” Callie teased, wrinkling her nose. “You’ve been telling me the same thing for three days now. I think I’ve got it. And the doctor said I could start walking on it for short periods of time in the next day or so.”

  “Very short periods of time,” Heather reminded her. Damn the woman for her vivid memory. She was going stir crazy being so immobile. Especially since her lack of action gave her more time to think of Jack, and the fact she hadn’t seen him since he’d been loaded into the ambulance after Victor was killed.

  “Mama, wead a me?”

  Jonathan crawled onto the couch to sit next to her. He’d been cautious around her and she sighed at his thoughtfulness. It hadn’t hurt that he’d seen her in the hospital where she’d spent more than a few days trying to get her blood count back up and get rid of the infection that had set into the wound. All the machines and tubes had reminded him of his recent hospital stay.

  “Sure, sweetheart, it’s not like Auntie Heather will let me do much else.” She glared at her friend. Heather knew she wasn’t actually mad. Her anxiety at not being able to see Jack was bubbling to the surface.

  Jonathan grabbed a book from the end of the couch and began to read it himself, or his version of it anyway. As long as he could sit snuggled next to her and she held the book, he was golden.

  Heather was in the kitchen, cleaning up the lunch mess, and Callie wanted to ask her again if she’d heard anything about Jack. The answer would be the same as it had been two hours ago. Nothing. Callie hadn’t even been able to see him in the hospital as they’d airlifted him to one in New York while she’d gone to a smaller local one. They’d needed a specialist to repair the damage the knife had done to some of Jack’s internal organs. The thought made her shiver.

  But both Heather and Scott, who’d dropped by a few times, assured her he was recovering nicely. He’d even been released already. Unfortunately, he’d been needed by the Bureau to give his report, not only on what had happened with Victor, but on the last few years on the run.

  What if he thrust himself right back into that kind of life? If he missed it so much, he asked to be put on a new case? Would he be sent away to go undercover like he’d been when she first met him? Surely they wouldn’t do that right away, not with his injury so recent and still healing. But he could be put at a desk job for a while. His office was in New York. Would she get to see him at all? Would he want to see her?

  Of course he would. He loved her. He’d said it right when Victor had shown up. But would he want to stay here with her and Jonathan? Or stay in New York and visit when he could? He’d never said anything about getting married. Of course it had never been an option before. She had no idea how he felt about
the institution. Maybe he didn’t believe in it.

  The real question was could she live with Jack popping in and out of their lives, still taking dangerous cases, possibly getting himself killed? She wasn’t sure. When her parents had left her each time for their exciting adventures, she shriveled a bit more inside. They’d never understood why she was so painfully shy and quiet. But she hadn’t wanted to put herself out there just to be deserted again. And then they had deserted her for good. She’d crawled right inside her shell and had never really come out unless Heather was with her. Even then, she’d kept that shell close at hand, just in case.

  “Mama, wead?” Jonathan held up another book, his eyes filled with questions. He’d been told numerous times that Mommy got tired easily and he should let her get some rest. She’d never be too tired for her son, though. She turned some pages and began the story.

  The back door opening brought her attention from the book and she looked up as Heather stood in the kitchen doorway. A sly smile lit her face.

  “Scott’s here. And he brought you a visitor.”

  Hope reared inside but she dashed it down. She didn’t want to be disappointed again.

  “Hey, Calico.”

  Moisture filled her eyes and she didn’t even bother blinking it back. The sight in front of her was so beautiful she couldn’t contain her emotions. Jack.

  “Daddy.” Jonathan jumped off the couch and ran to his father. Jack grimaced as he leaned over to reach for the boy. Scott appeared from behind Jack to scoop the child into his arms.

  “Hey, Jonathan, daddy can’t pick you up right now. But you can give him a hug from here.” Scott held the boy closer and Jack hugged him, placing a kiss on his forehead.

  “Hey, pal, I missed you. Have you been good for Auntie Heather and Uncle Scott while Mommy and I were getting better?”

  Jonathan nodded and planted a sloppy kiss on Jack’s cheek. “Your boo boo all done?”