by Lisa Childs
Then he noticed something. Their driver’s head had gone through the windshield. He stared down at him, his eyes open but unseeing. He hadn’t survived the crash like Parker and Sharon had.
“I didn’t rip the dress,” she murmured, as if he cared about the damn dress. “But I think I’m bleeding on it....” Her voice cracked with regret and fear...and probably the horrific memory of her mother’s murder.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. When he’d asked her earlier, she hadn’t known. He could understand that because he had no idea if he was hurt, either—if any of the shots fired at him had even struck him. Adrenaline rushed so quickly through his veins, it was all he could feel besides the concern for her safety.
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” she said. “What about you? Are you hurt?”
He shrugged and winced as pain radiated from his shoulder to his neck. He probably had whiplash from the car flipping over, but it was the least of his worries now.
He heard footsteps—a lot of footsteps running on asphalt. More than one person was coming. Had there been another car of assassins following this car?
And his ammo was running low. He had lost at least one clip when he’d ripped his jacket to free his holster. The shells had dropped onto the roof and rolled away. He was going to run out of bullets. “Sharon, you said nothing’s broken?”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she said.
Which didn’t offer him much reassurance. But she was a survivor. She wouldn’t have survived twenty years ago if she hadn’t been smart, and she wouldn’t have survived all these recent attempts on her life if she wasn’t resourceful.
“I want you to run,” he ordered her.
“Where?”
“Toward the houses, through the yards—find an unlocked shed or a garage or basement—someplace to hide.” Like her mother had hidden her all those years ago. He hated that he kept bringing up those tragic memories for her.
But she wasn’t worried about herself because her only question was “What about you?”
“I’m going to cover you,” he said. “And then I’ll come find you.” Unless he ran out of bullets before the assassins did....
But then someone from his family would find her. They would protect her as he wished he could. But he could only watch as she ran through the gathering darkness as night finally fell. But the darkness was no protection for her as her white dress glowed like a beacon, drawing all attention to her presence and the direction she had taken between the houses.
It was more likely that one of the assassins would follow her, that he would find her before she even had a chance to hide.
Damn it...
The sound of the footsteps, growing louder as the people came closer, drew his attention back to the street. He clutched his gun and raised the barrel and hoped like hell he had enough bullets left.
* * *
HER LUNGS BURNED as Sharon ran, and the skirt of the wedding gown tangled around her legs, nearly tripping her. Gravel stung the soles of her bare feet. She must have lost her shoes in the car—probably when she’d been hanging upside down. But she didn’t dare stop as gunfire rang out again behind her. Should she go back and make sure that Parker was all right? Or would her presence only distract him?
He had defended them earlier. He had to be able to continue to defend himself. And then he would come for her once it was safe.
So she had to hide. She had to find a place where she would be safe until he came. He would be furious if she didn’t, just like her mother would have been had Sharon come out of the cupboard where she had hidden her all those years ago.
Parker was a protector like her mother had been. She had worried more about Sharon’s safety than her own. Parker was the same way; that was why he had stayed behind despite undoubtedly being outnumbered. And that was why he had told Sharon to hide.
She stopped running, but her bare feet slipped on the grass and she skidded across the lawn of someone’s backyard. At least she assumed it was a backyard. It was so dark that she couldn’t see much—and this house was dark, too. Nobody was home, or if they were home, they weren’t awake anymore.
How late was it?
She could have tried the house, could have seen if one of the doors opened. But she didn’t dare risk waking someone—someone who might be as armed as the assassins who’d just tried to kill her and Parker.
Instead, she continued through the backyard, tripping over flagstones and garden statues. And because they had such a garden, she wasn’t surprised to see another shadow in the backyard—that of a shed.
She fumbled around in the dark, searching for the door with her hands. But all she found were the wooden walls, and jagged splinters dug deep into her palms. She winced, but that pain was nothing compared to her fear.
She wasn’t afraid for herself; she was afraid for Parker. The gunfire had stopped. She hadn’t run so far that she wouldn’t still hear it if they were shooting.
What did that mean?
That he was already gone?
Pain and loss filled her, pressing down heavily on her chest so that she could hardly breathe—so that her heart could barely beat.
Her hands skimmed across trim. She had found the door. But she had to fumble around even more to find the knob. Her fingers jammed against the metal handle. She tugged on it; the door rattled but didn’t budge.
Another clank echoed in the eerie silence. And she found the padlock holding it closed on the top of the door. The lock refused to budge, too, but the little hook through which the lock slid was loose. She dug a fingernail into the head of one of the screws and turned it. It was so stripped that it fell to the ground. Then she tore the hook from the wood and pulled open the door.
She hurried inside the shed, but not to hide. She wasn’t going to cower and hide again. She had already done that too often in her life. This time she was going to fight. Finally. So she fumbled around in the windowless shed until she found something to use to protect herself.
And when she heard the footsteps coming toward her, she didn’t wait for the person to shoot at her or grab her. Like swinging a bat at a ball, she swung the shovel out, hoping to make contact. Even with the shovel, she couldn’t overpower a man. However, maybe she could knock him out.
But she missed.
The handle was caught, grabbed in a strong fist and wrenched from her hands, leaving her with no weapon. No defense.
This man was undoubtedly armed like the others had been. So, really, what defense was a shovel against a gun?
Chapter Thirteen
Parker held tightly to the shovel. And he exhaled a ragged breath of relief that the blade hadn’t struck his head. She had swung it forcefully and wildly. And now she threw things that she pulled off shelves. But it was dark and most of them missed him.
“Sharon,” he said. But she kept throwing things. So he dropped the shovel and grabbed her, pulling her flailing body into his arms. She swung her fists and feet, fighting him. “Sharon! It’s me. It’s Parker. It’s your husband.”
Her struggle stilled. And then she was crying and clutching at him. “You’re alive!”
“Yes,” he said. “And so are you...”
And he was clutching her back, pulling her closer so that he could feel her heart beat and her lungs breathe.
“You’re alive....” He shouldn’t have sent her running off alone. The minute he’d done it he had regretted it. And when he’d nearly shot his brother, he had realized that instead of sending Sharon to safety, he had sent her off alone to deal with whatever dangers awaited her in the dark. He hadn’t realized that she might be the danger—with the deadly shovel she’d wielded.
Once he had identified the footsteps as belonging to his family, he had left them to run after his bride. He had been worried that he would find her cow
ering in fear. Once again, he had underestimated her. She was far stronger than he had given her credit for.
She pulled back and stared up at him, her eyes glistening in the darkness. “Who was running up when I left?”
“My family. They heard the crash and came running from the chapel,” he explained. He should have known they would have heard it and the gunfire, too.
She kept staring up at him. “What about the gunshots I heard?”
He flinched, remembering how close he had come to hitting Cooper. “It was nothing.” He wouldn’t have fired at all but he had seen Cooper’s gun before he had seen who was holding it. If he hadn’t worried that a shot fired from it might hit Sharon as she ran away, he wouldn’t have risked shooting so soon.
Sirens wailed as emergency units approached the scene. Parker wanted to keep his arms around Sharon, wanted to continue holding her. But she had been hurt; at the very least, she needed stitches for the cut on her head. Maybe a CT scan to make sure she didn’t have a concussion. He had to bring her back to the ambulance.
“We have to go,” he said.
She pulled back and nodded. “Of course...”
He led the way out of the shed, making sure he stayed between her and whatever might have been waiting for them in the dark. But she stumbled and fell against him. So he turned and lifted her up into his arms. And he carried her back to where all the lights flashed and sirens wailed.
What had taken them so long to come? Had no one reported the accident or the gunfire? Officers were there now, in full force, stringing yellow tape around the crime scene. He should have been carrying his bride over a threshold to a honeymoon suite; instead, he carried her across the crime-scene tape and headed toward the ambulance.
Paramedics were working on the men on the ground, but he didn’t care about their injuries as he interrupted them. “My wife needs to be checked out,” he said. “She was on the passenger’s side of the car that took the initial impact of the crash.”
The paramedic glanced up from the guy on the ground. The young man shook his head. “I can’t stop working on this patient yet.”
“He’s beyond help,” Parker pointed out. “She could have a head injury. She was unconscious for a while.”
“Until the shooting started,” she said. “But I’m fine now....”
“I still want you to check her out,” Parker told the paramedic. “She has cuts and bruises, too.” But hopefully no broken bones or concussion.
“You better do what he wants,” Logan suggested. “He and his wife were the victims in this crash. The men you’re treating tried to kill them.”
Parker had thought he had killed the men. But if the paramedics were able to resuscitate them, he wished they would. He would like these guns-for-hire brought back to life to answer all the questions he had about who had ordered the hit on them.
But Sharon was more important.
The paramedic looked from him to Logan and back. “You’re Paynes, right?”
His twin nodded. “I’m Logan Payne, and he’s Parker. You should be aware that someone put out a professional hit on him and his wife, Sharon Wells.”
The paramedic’s eyes widened. “Sharon Wells?” As another paramedic continued to treat the man on the ground, he stood up and led Parker to the ambulance. He pointed to a stretcher in the back. “I’ll check her out now.”
Parker hesitated before releasing her. He liked the warmth and softness of her body in his arms, liked the reassuring beat of her heart against his and liked the whisper of her breath against his throat....
“Mr. Payne?” The paramedic questioned his reluctance. “I’ll make sure she stays safe.”
That was all he wanted—for her to be safe. That was one of the reasons, along with keeping Ethan out of the foster-care system, why he had married her. So he forced himself to lay her down onto the stretcher and walk away. But he didn’t go far. He didn’t trust the paramedic; he couldn’t trust him or anyone else. So he kept his gaze on him as he rejoined his twin.
“Who’s with Ethan and Mom?” he asked. He had to make certain that his son and the boy’s grandmother were safe, too. They were probably the only members of his family who hadn’t come running up to the scene of the accident. Except that it hadn’t been an accident....
Someone had tried to kill him and Sharon. He blinked and could see behind his closed lids how the SUV had slammed into her side of the car. He’d thought he had lost her then.
“Candace is on protection duty,” Logan replied. “She took them off to a safe house.”
Nikki stepped over the crime-scene tape and joined them. “I let Mom know that you and Sharon are safe.”
“I doubt we’re safe,” Parker said as he glanced back at the wreckage. The SUV driver had risked—and given up—his own life to try to take theirs. And the others had stepped right into the line of Parker’s fire in order to try to shoot him and his new bride. These people were too desperate to kill him and Sharon to ever give up—especially since the person who wanted them dead kept raising the reward.
That amount of money might be enough to tempt anyone....
Parker pointed his sister toward the ambulance. “Stay close to Sharon. Make sure nobody harms her.”
She nodded and hurried off, obviously happy to act as a bodyguard since Logan usually kept her tied to a desk at the office. He probably would have literally tied her to it if she hadn’t fought him.
Even now, the oldest Payne caught their other brother’s attention and pointed Cooper toward the ambulance, too. Parker was grateful for the extra protection on his bride.
“You should be in that ambulance, too,” Logan remarked.
Parker nodded. He should have been protecting Sharon himself. “I wanted to talk to you where she couldn’t overhear.” She had already been through too much.
“I meant that you should have paramedics check you out, too,” Logan clarified. “You were in that car.” He glanced back at it and shuddered. “And you got shot at. Are you sure you weren’t hit?” He patted Parker’s torn jacket, checking for bullet holes.
Parker shrugged off his concern. “I’m fine.”
“You’re a hell of a shot,” Garek Kozminski commented as he joined them. He had come running up with the others but must have made himself scarce when the police arrived.
Maybe Parker had been too good a shot since the paramedics had abandoned their efforts to resuscitate the men. But if he hadn’t killed them, he and Sharon would not have survived. But if at least one of the men had been only wounded, he might have been able to learn who had put out the hit.
“Looks like a wall of Wanted posters at the post office,” Garek remarked as he gazed around at the bodies lying on the pavement.
“You recognize some of these guys?” Logan asked.
“What, you think all criminals know each other?” Garek asked.
“No,” Logan said. “There are too many criminals. But how do you know these guys are wanted?”
Garek shrugged. “I recognize a couple of them.”
“From their Wanted posters?” Logan persisted.
Garek shrugged again noncommittally. “I’m not sure that they’re wanted anymore. But if they’re out already, they must have gotten some light sentences for what they’d done.”
Some people thought he and his brother had received light sentences for the crimes they had committed. Parker glanced around for Garek’s brother, Milek. They were usually together, but Parker hadn’t noticed the more laid-back Kozminski. Maybe he had been worrying about trusting the wrong Kozminski. He glanced back at the ambulance, where the paramedic shone a light in Sharon’s eyes. Nikki and Cooper stood close to the ambulance doors, watching her.
He breathed a slight sigh of relief.
“Well, you know Judge Foster didn’t give them the sent
ences if they were light,” Logan mused.
And Parker considered what he’d said. Criminals often held grudges against judges, so he could understand if one of them had killed Brenda. But why go after her nanny and her ex-bodyguard?
“We have a connection in the district attorney’s office,” Garek said. “Milek can talk to his ex-girlfriend. Amber is an assistant D.A.”
Logan shook his head. “No, you should do it,” he said, as if he was protecting Milek from having to talk to his ex. It must have been a hell of a breakup. “You know who they are....”
“True,” Garek said. “I’ll see if Amber can look into their cases and find out how they’ve been paroled already.”
Logan nodded his approval of his brother-in-law’s suggestion. Then he turned his attention back to Parker. “Now let’s get you checked out.”
“I’m fine,” he assured him again.
“You nearly shot me,” Cooper said as he joined his brothers. “So you meant to do that?”
“He nearly shot me, too,” Logan said. “It’s not personal. He’s jumpy.”
“He jumped on me,” Garek chimed in. “Knocked me down the stairs and bruised my ribs.” He grunted as if he was still in pain.
Parker felt no pain. Only concern. “Get back to Sharon,” he told Cooper. “If anything happens to her, I’ll mean to shoot you next time.”
“Sharon sent me to get you,” Cooper said. “She wants you to get checked out, too. She’s worried about you.”
“See,” Logan said. “She thinks you need medical attention, too.”
Parker shook his head. “I’m more worried about her. That’s why I wanted to talk to you alone, Logan.” The others didn’t take his hint; they stayed to listen to what he’d wanted to discuss with his twin. “I want you to take her and Ethan away from here.”
“The city?” Logan asked.
