Kant rose from the bed, wiping his hands on his pants. Still holding his gun firmly, he crossed the bedroom to the dresser to trade the bloodstained butterfly knife for the baton. Owen knew intimately the weight and balance of the weapon. It could kill a man with one well-placed blow. Wielding the baton in one hand and the gun in the other, he returned to Genevieve’s side.
Jonas looked up at Owen with a lopsided smile. “Pick a number between one and ten.”
Owen merely glared at him, his knee throbbing in time with his heartbeat. “Come now, lieutenant. I’m asking for only the tiniest bit of assistance. You can help me end the poor doctor’s suffering. So let’s hear it. Pick a number, any number.” He raised the gun pointedly, “A bullet, quick and painless,” before displaying the baton just as heartlessly, “Or the baton? Messy. Not as quick.”
Owen wanted to use both of them on the bastard until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.
But maybe this could give him an opportunity to stall.
Pointing the gun at the ceiling, Jonas fired two quick rounds in succession. Owen and Genny both jerked in shock. “I’ll give you to the count of five.” Kant threatened silkily. “One.”
His heart in his throat, Owen locked eyes with Genny. Terrified tears were streaking down her bloodied cheeks. “Two.”
This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be. “Three.”
Goddamn it. Goddamn it! “Four.”
At that precise moment, Owen caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He froze, his gaze jerking over to the mirror above the dresser, in which he could see a reflection of the hall beyond. He might have imagined it, but he’d caught a glimpse of a thick, muscled arm just beyond the doorway.
Was he imagining things? Fuck. Fuck. “Five.” Kant cocked the gun, pulling another bullet into the chamber. “A number, Owen.”
What happened next occurred almost too fast for Owen to register.
Sean’s burly frame suddenly filled the doorway and he fired two precise shots. The first hit Kant dead center in the abdomen and he jerked, half-turning as he fired the gun reflexively. The bullet caught Sean in his shoulder and he grunted at the impact, placing the next shot between Jonas’ eyes.
The young man dropped like a stone, the twenty two thudding to the floor beside him.
He was dead before he hit the floor.
Owen blinked, still in disbelief at what had happened. “Owen?” Sean’s voice was thick with pain. Setting his gun down, he straightened, clutching his shoulder. “You alright?”
“Genevieve.” The SEAL managed, wincing as his knee was jarred. “Get Genevieve.”
Sean rushed to her side, immediately reaching to undo the tape that bound her hands. “Genny.” He hoisted her upright, blood smearing over his upper half. “Genny, speak to me.”
The young woman sobbed, an anguished sound escaping her. She rose from the bed, stumbling once before she broke from Sean’s grip to hurry across the room. She was limping, Owen noticed, and he cursed Jonas’ dead body.
“Owen…” Genny dropped to her knees, reaching for his face as she took in his ruined knee. “Owen, are you ok?”
Was he OK? A long gash ran from Genny’s ear to just below her jaw on the right side of her face. Her thigh had been laid open almost to the bone and she had several other wounds from the butterfly knife, all of which were bleeding profusely. “Genevieve.” He wrapped his one free arm around her, holding her flush against him. “Fucking God, Genevieve. I love you. I love you.”
His lover clung to him, and he trembled, remembering how close he had come to losing her.
A loud knock echoed through the house and all three of them looked towards the hallway. It was ten o’clock on the dot, and Jonas’ ride had arrived.
Thankfully, he wasn’t around to take advantage of it.
**
Genevieve didn’t think she’d ever been in so much physical pain in her life. She didn’t know what had been worse, feeling Owen cutting her, or watching him do it. When Sean answered the door to admit Jonas’ chauffer, the man took one look at the bleeding captain and Eddie’s bloodied form in the hallway and called nine one one.
The authorities arrived within ten minutes, and all three of them were shuffled into an ambulance. From her position in the bed next to Owen, Genevieve looked over at him. She knew he had to be in a world of pain. The paramedic tending to him was looking at his knee with a grave expression and her lover was gritting his teeth.
As another paramedic pressed gauze to the wound on her thigh, she bit back a cry of pain, reaching reflexively for Owen’s hand. When she found it, his fingers wrapped tightly around hers and she looked into his eyes, knowing she was crying but unable to stop the tears.
What had happened to them was no less than a nightmare. Something she knew would haunt her dreams for God knew how long.
She had known she was going to die. She had been terrified Owen would die too. In the bedroom, suddenly everything in the entire world had seemed meaningless when pitted against the life of the man she loved.
“Genny, don’t think about it. Don’t think about the pain.” Owen’s words were low and tight and a choked laugh escaped her. How on earth could he say that to her when he was obviously in agony himself? From a stretcher near the door, Sean eyed both of them, seemingly amused despite his own injury.
“Owen, I am not a SEAL.” She managed, wincing every time the rushing ambulance crested a bump in the road. “I’m going to scream. It hurts.” As if to demonstrate, she cried out as the paramedic attempted to start cleaning the wound on her thigh. In response, her lover only gripped her fingers more tightly, until the pressure of his hand blotted out the pain.
“Look at me, Genny.” He demanded.
And she did. His green eyes were filled with pride, relief, and unadulterated adoration. Adoration for her. “I love you. You’re going to be alight.”
A choked sob escaped her. “I love you too.” That was the third time he’d said it in the past half hour.
“And I love everybody.” Sean groaned from his stretcher, wincing as a third paramedic cut away at his shirt around the sight of his wound. “Fucking ask her already.”
The ambulance bounced again and Genevieve bit back a shriek. “Ask me what?” She could barely get the words out through her gritted teeth.
“Fuck asking.” Owen hissed as his paramedic covered his ruined knee lightly with gauze. “Genny, we’re getting married.”
The psychiatrist’s mouth fell open as her heart leapt. They were…was he asking…The world seemed to brighten around her as elation seeped through every part of her body, momentarily banishing her pain. “I…Ok.” She finally whispered, tasting the salt of her own tears.
Owen’s returning smile was immense and she couldn’t help but laugh, in spite of everything. “Can we go back to Pensacola?”
Sean groaned. “Can I get some anesthetic, please? The strongest cocktail you have.”
“Shut up, Sean.” Owen barked. But, his smile wouldn’t quit. It was the smile that Genny had fallen in love with. The smile that warmed her heart even when the world was falling apart around her. “Genny,” He murmured lowly, his tone meant for her ears alone, “I promise I’ll always protect you. Always.”
The young woman nodded, her vision blurry with moisture. “Sounds good to me.”
Epilogue
One year later
When the Skype ringtone sounded, Genevieve was in the middle of a passage on OCD. She jumped, turning to face her computer with an accusatory frown. No matter how many times she heard the sound, it always spooked her. Bookmarking her place in the text she was reading, she clicked the answer button on the computer screen.
It took a second for the picture to focus, but once it passed, Owen appeared, grinning at her. Even though she had just spoken to him yesterday, Genevieve felt her heart skip a beat. The man was the most gorgeous thing alive. Even though she missed all his long hair, she had to admit that the military buzz suited the str
ong lines of his face. “Hey, Gen. You busy?”
The psychiatrist rolled her eyes, unable to hide her good-natured smile. “I’m always busy, Owen.”
“Well, take a break.” He demanded. “Doesn’t the high and mighty Psychiatry Department Head have a minute to spare for her husband?”
Genny stuck her tongue out at him teasingly. “For you, I might have ten minutes. But no more.”
“I’m flattered.” Even eight thousand miles couldn’t take the snark out of the man’s tone. “How’s it going, babe?”
Genevieve groaned. “I’m dying. I’m supposed to be presenting the board with the new funding plans for the department and I can’t stop fidgeting. I’m nervous as hell.”
Owen smirked. “Potty mouth.”
“Well I wonder where I got it from,” she shot back just as quickly, making him chuckle before her expression sobered. “But really, Owen…what if they don’t agree? What if I have to start over from scratch?”
“Gen, I doubt that will be the case.” Owen leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands as he spoke to her. “You’re trying to raise money for a good cause. If there’s anything the board must have learned by now it’s the importance of caution. There won’t be any more corners cut. Everyone should be watching their asses. If the hospital has the slightest sense of self preservation, they’ll be begging to fund you.”
When he put it that way, the dark-skinned woman felt a lot better.
Since the incident with Jonas Kant the year before, she had been pushing for better safety measures in the psychiatry department. For fail safes and water tight background checks so Riperton would never again be faced with such danger. They had let a wolf in sheep’s clothing into their program, and even though the damage Jonas did had been undone, the process hadn’t been easy.
Stella had been in an intensive psychiatric program for almost seven months before she began to recover from whatever Jonas did to break her mind. Genny hated to see her former friend so lost, but Owen told her that it was better if she didn’t see her until she was more stable. It was enough, the SEAL argued, that she had the courts rescind her fellow doctor’s jail sentence in favor of two years of intense rehabilitation. Genevieve could only hope that one day she and Stella might be able to be close again – but that day was far in the future.
Already, the few times the redhead had seen her had ended in Stella begging for forgiveness as she realized exactly how much damage Jonas had inflicted.
And that damage ran deep.
Genevieve would carry the scars of her injuries for the rest of her life. She’d been in the hospital for a week and, altogether, accrued one hundred and seven stitches. She was hardly able to walk for a month, and the scar on the right side of her face was still pretty prominent. Though she’d never been a terribly vain person, she was self-conscious of the marks. Whenever Owen noticed her unease, he merely told her that they were badges of bravery –but Genny knew from the haunted look in his eyes that a part of him still blamed himself for letting her be harmed.
Owen’s kneecap was completely shattered. He was in a wheelchair for three months before the reconstructive surgery, and then endured six additional months of grueling physical therapy. He told her that it still felt uncomfortable to walk on, but to watch the way the man got through an obstacle course, no one would ever know. He’d certainly passed the exam for his SEAL recommission with flying colors.
Though Owen had been happy to be accepted back into his old unit, it had taken him a long time to recover mentally from that night. So much so that he even ventured to ask her if going back was the right decision for him. He’d taken Eddie’s loss hard, and even now, it was hard for him to speak of the departed pup. Just before he shipped out on his first deployment in two years, she had surprised him with a pit bull puppy. The little brown fuzz ball was a bundle of energy, and she supposed she hadn’t considered that she would have to care for him in Owen’s absence.
Every day brought a new adventure – usually one involving puppy poo or pee; but those slightly off-putting elements aside, Genny could say she was thoroughly in love with the little thing. They named him Bullseye, or BB for short, which Owen had come up with and Genevieve found hilarious, to say the least.
He couldn’t replace Eddie, but he could help them start to heal the wound his loss had left behind.
Sean bounced back the quickest of course. He cited that he’d had worse injuries during his last tour, and went home to Gina and Luis the same night he’d been injured. His wife had, of course, laid into him like there was no tomorrow, calling him an idiot for putting his life in danger and bursting into tears when she found out what had happened to Owen and Genevieve.
As it turned out, Owen’s father had called him to chew him out for leaving his hunting cabin a mess. They hadn’t exactly cleaned up after Stella broke in, and so Eli Sinclair had been more than a little upset. Owen, however, hadn’t answered his phone. He had, in fact, left it in the car in his rush to get to Genevieve after returning home from his trip to get champagne glasses. When his son hadn’t answered, Eli had immediately called Sean to bitch.
Sean, in turn, came over to tell Owen to call his damn father back.
Which was how he stumbled upon Jonas Kant preparing to end both Owen and Genevieve’s lives.
In the year that had passed, Genevieve thanked her father-in-law who knew how many times. Though unintentional, he had saved their lives. Eli Sinclair only waved her off with the same gruffness as his son, insisting that even if Sean hadn’t arrived, Owen would have “ripped that upstart Kant bastard a new one”.
Like father, like son.
Genevieve found herself very fond of the old bear. He was terse, grumpy, and awkward when it came to expressing his love for his son, but it was obvious that he and Owen were very close. When he came to visit Owen in the hospital, he had warned him that he would be fixing up the cabin as soon as he was on his feet.
In actuality, Owen never got around to the cabin.
They had been too busy planning a wedding on the fly.
Owen and Genevieve were married at the town courthouse, with her mother, her stepfather, Eli, Sean, Gina, and little Luis in attendance. Detective Miller sent his felicitations from upstate, where he personally journeyed to question the incarcerated Kant about his recently deceased son.
Apparently, Daniel had known nothing of Jonas’ intentions. When he found out his son was dead, the Doctor barely batted an eye. Miller said he’d never seen a more cold-hearted man. Genevieve thought he should count himself lucky he’d never met the younger Kant. Jonas outdid his father spectacularly in pure viciousness.
Even though recovering from her injuries had been a long, hard process, even harder was watching Owen leave for his six month deployment. Thanks to Captain Ryce, he was on a short rotation, and the elder man promised to keep a special eye on Owen. Sean personally swore to Genevieve that he would watch his friend’s back, as long as she kept Gina from browbeating him too badly via Skype.
In the psychiatrist’s mind, it was a pretty good trade.
“So, how’s little Owen doing?” At her husband’s inquiry, Genevieve made a face, standing up carefully before the camera so that the roundness of her belly was visible beneath her pale maternity dress.
“Mariah is doing fine, thank you.” There was a running bet between them about the sex of their first child. They had declined to be told the sex of the baby just so they could banter for the six months remaining until its birth. If it was a boy, Owen had to take a year’s leave from his unit. If it was a girl, Genevieve had to take a leave of absence from her job and come live on base with him at Incirlik.
Personally, the young woman had no intention of moving to Turkey. She was almost certain their child would be a girl.
Either way, the winner would be determined in just two short months, hopefully after Owen returned from the Middle East.
“Whatever you say, Gen. Just start packing.”
Genevieve lau
ghed confidently, shaking her head as she stroked over the swell of her tummy. “As soon as you unpack.”
Just then, the doctor’s intercom buzzed. “Hold on one second, Owen.” Genny turned from the camera to take the call and frowned. Apparently her three thirty had arrived early and asked if her appointment could be moved up. The middle-aged woman was dealing with the loss of her youngest son, who had been killed in action, and Genny knew accommodating her would go a long way. When she turned back to the camera, Owen read her long face. He arched a brow, his smile fond. “Gotta go, babe?”
She sighed. “Duty calls.” Inescapable, it seemed.
“I’ll just call you back tonight, no biggie. You can tell me about how the board threw millions of dollars at your feet the moment the proposal left your lips.”
Genny grinned. “Hopefully.” Reaching, out, she touched the screen as her expression softened. It had been four long months since she’d held him. Since she’d felt his arms around her and had him inside her. Genevieve knew this was what she’d signed up for, but that didn’t keep her from counting down the days until she saw him gain. “Miss you.”
Owen reached out so that his fingers lay against hers and they touched, even though they were half a world away from one another. “Miss you too. Both of you. I’ll be home soon, Gen. I promise.”
Genevieve’s heart was filled with love for him. This man had given her everything. Compared to the lifetime she would spend with him, eight weeks was nothing. “I know, Owen. And I’ll be waiting.”
About the Author
Hello,
So this is the part where I'm supposed to talk about myself. I write so many stories but I often I have a hard time telling my own. Funny how that works.
My name is Cristina Grenier and I have been writing stories for as long as I could remember . I'm a sucker for romance. I draw from past experiences and from others around me when I write. I enjoy creating characters that everyone can relate to.
Saving the Seal 2: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance Page 15
