“But—”
“Do you want people to die, Raina? Is that what you want? Because it’s not that hard to take someone’s life. It’s really not.”
She went ice-cold at his words, and did what he said, walking out of the room and out of the building, her heart beating frantically.
She had to escape. Had to—
Something slammed into the back of her head, and she fell, every thought falling into darkness with her.
NINETEEN
“Open your eyes,” a man said, the words seeping into her consciousness.
“Jackson?” she whispered, the word thick on her tongue, her head pounding.
“Hurry up. I don’t have all day.” A vicious slap stung her cheek, and she shot upright, her heart racing as memories flooded back.
Kent stood a few feet away, still in his lab coat, a cup of water in his hand.
“Where are we?” she asked, her throat clogged with fear.
“Don’t you know?” He grinned, and everything evil she’d ever dreamed of was in that one little smile.
“No.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Raina. Look around.”
She did. Saw old beige carpet and a baby grand piano that had been covered with a sheet. A fireplace. A small alcove that she knew had once contained a display table and tiny little angel figures.
Her in-laws’ old house.
The knowledge shot through her. “What do you want, Kent?”
“What I wanted was you, but you didn’t want me.”
“I wasn’t ready. I was still grieving Matt,” she responded, easing toward the foyer. She made it to the threshold, the door just a few feet away. The dining room she’d eaten dozens of meals in just across the hall, the window allowing watery light to seep in. A shadow moved past. She blinked and it was gone.
Imagination or reality? She didn’t know. Wasn’t sure it mattered. Kent had a gun, and she was trapped inside with him. She reached for the door handle.
“There’s no sense trying that door, Raina. I came in the back way. Broke the lock yesterday and set this all up.” He gestured to dozens of rose petals that lay on the floor nearby. “I’m sure when they find you here, they’ll figure it was your handiwork. Of course, they might not find you for a while. The house hasn’t had many showings in the past few months.”
“You’re crazy,” she spat, her voice trembling with fear.
“I’m not crazy. I’m angry. I don’t like to be ignored, Raina,” he said, his voice silky and soft and so terrifying Raina wanted to lie back down on the floor, close her eyes, pretend the nightmare away.
God, please, help me.
The prayer was as desperate as her prayers in Africa had been, the danger she was in just as real. Only there was no little boy with a water bottle in his hands, no helicopter flying in to rescue her. No Jackson, lifting her into his arms.
She blinked back tears, forced back fear.
A soft sound broke through the silence. Fingers on glass? She turned her head, looking at the window again. Nothing. No face in the window there. No sign that help had arrived.
“Did you hear me?” he snapped. “I don’t like to be ignored.”
“I’ve never ignored you,” she said, knowing that reasoning with him was futile, but hoping, praying, trusting that help was on the way.
“Drink this.” He thrust the glass into her hands.
“What is it?”
“Death,” he said, leaning toward her and inhaling deeply. “I’ll miss you, Raina. I had high hopes that you were the one. After our time in Africa—”
“What time? We were trapped in separate cages. We never even spoke.” She had to keep him talking, had to give herself more time. Give Jackson more time. He’d find her. She had to believe that. Had to believe that God hadn’t brought her this far to let her die.
“We were the only survivors, because we were meant to be,” he hissed. “I suspected you were mine after your husband died, and I knew it was true after Africa. God wanted us together, but you ruined it.”
“I didn’t know,” she said, easing to the left, stepping farther into the foyer. She could see the kitchen from there, the back door beckoning.
“Because you ignored God!” he shouted so loudly the chandelier in the foyer rattled. “Worse, you ignored me! No one ignores me. Ever! Now drink or die with a bullet in your head.” He pulled the gun from his pocket. “You choose.”
“Okay.” She lifted the glass, praying, trusting, hoping, even though she wasn’t sure there was any hope left.
He smiled, the gun lowering a fraction of an inch.
That was her chance and she took it, throwing the glass at his head, and taking off down the hall, running from him, running toward Samuel, toward Jackson—toward life.
Glass shattered, and the world exploded into chaos. Voices. Shouts. But she kept running.
Something slammed into her shoulder. She stumbled into the kitchen and out into watery sunlight. Ran across the yard, voices shouting behind her, feet pounding behind her. She kept going, because she’d finally found the strength to live again, and there was no way she was going to give that up.
“Raina.” Someone grabbed her arm, and she swung around, fists flying, head pounding, fear giving her the adrenaline she needed to fight. To win.
“Stop! You’ve been shot. You’re going to bleed to death if you don’t hold still!” It was Jackson’s voice, frantic and filled with fear.
She stilled, looked into his eyes, her head swimming, her body numb. “It’s okay,” she said, touching his face, her hand slipping away because she didn’t have the strength to hold it there.
“No,” he ground out. “It’s not okay. Get me something to stop this bleeding!” he shouted, and Boone appeared at his side, his red hair mussed, his eyes blazing.
“If Moreland weren’t already dead,” he said softly as he leaned toward Raina and pressed a thick wad of cloth to her shoulder. “I would kill him.”
She thought that he meant it, but her head was so fuzzy, her thinking so scattered, she couldn’t be sure. “Where’s Samuel?”
“With Stella.” Jackson brushed hair from Raina’s cheek with one hand, pressed down on her shoulder with the other. His hands shook, his heart racing so fast he thought it might fly out of his chest. The bullet had hit an artery, and if he didn’t stop the bleeding, she’d die. Not in a shoddy little village in Africa. Right there in her hometown.
He gritted his teeth, angry with himself for letting her go to the clinic, angry with Wallace for not making his first shot a killing shot.
He glanced at Wallace. He stood a few feet away, his face almost as ashen as Raina’s.
“I should have taken him out,” Wallace mumbled.
That was the plan, Jackson wanted to say. They’d gone over it all, briefed everyone. Just like with every mission. Every team member had a job, a position, a common goal.
Only Wallace wasn’t a team member, and he hadn’t shot to kill. He’d given Moreland the time he’d needed to fire his weapon. It was Chance who’d taken Moreland down. He’d broken protocol by doing it, leaving his position and firing before the doctor could take another shot.
“It’s not your fault,” Raina said, her eyes drifting closed. “You didn’t know Kent had a gun.”
“Don’t!” Jackson shouted, and she opened her eyes again, reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“I’m going to be okay.”
“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig!”
“Again?” She smiled, then grimaced. “This hurts more than my head ever did.”
“Yeah. I bet. And it’s about to hurt worse,” Chance muttered, kneeling beside Jackson, covering his hand and adding pressure to the wound.
Raina winced, but she didn’t complain
. She knew how quickly a person could bleed out, and she knew she could easily be one of them. Jackson could see it in her eyes. Not fear. Acceptance and a hint of sadness.
“You’ll take care of Samuel for me, won’t you?” she asked, her lips colorless, her skin almost gray.
“I’m not going to have to,” he ground out, his heart nearly pounding from his chest. She closed her eyes again, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Where’s the ambulance?”
“Pulling up. I’ll lead them back,” Boone shouted, running to the front of the house.
The rest happened in minutes, the crew moving in, shoving him aside as they worked to stop the bleeding and to stabilize Raina. He could see the panic in the EMTs faces, knew they thought they were going to lose her. He moved toward them, wanting to tear them away, move in close, tell her that she had better not even think about leaving him.
“Stay out of the way, bro.” Chance grabbed his shoulder. “Let them do their job.”
“What if doing their job isn’t enough?” He yanked away, took a step toward Raina.
“That’s up to God to decide.” Boone stepped in front of him. “But you getting in the way isn’t going to help and it might hurt. Seeing as how the mission was to get her out alive, I’m not going to let you do that.”
If anyone else had been saying it, Jackson would have barreled past, but it was Boone, and he knew exactly what it was like to watch someone he loved slip away. “I can’t lose her.”
“You’re assuming you’re going to, and that’s no way to think. Not when she’s lying right there, still breathing and fighting. So, how about you stop thinking about you, and start thinking about what she really needs? I can guarantee it isn’t you pouncing on a bunch of people who are trying to help her.”
The words cooled the fire that was burning in Jackson’s stomach, stilled the panic that had filled his brain.
“You’re right,” he acknowledged, and Boone stepped aside, motioned for him to move past.
“Looks like they’re ready to transport her. You go on with her. I’ll go back to the clinic and get Stella and the kid.”
Jackson barely heard. He was already moving toward the gurney that was being wheeled across the grass and onto the ambulance. An IV line had been placed, fluid already pumping into Raina’s arm. She looked small and vulnerable and incredibly pale, but she opened her eyes when he touched her hand, smiled through the oxygen mask that had been placed over her mouth. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. “You’re going to be okay.”
She turned her hand and captured his, her grip stronger than he’d expected, her eyes staring straight into his.
He knew what she needed, what she probably wanted more than anything.
“I’ll take care of Samuel,” he said.
And she squeezed his hand, smiled again.
“I knew you would,” she said, her voice weak and a little hollow.
He leaned close, speaking in her ear so she could hear over the sound of screaming sirens. “But just until you get out of the hospital and only if you promise to teach me how to make that peach pie you said we’d have for Thanksgiving. I want to impress Great-grandma when she’s here.”
“I promise,” she said, and he knew that she meant it, prayed that she could keep it.
She closed her eyes, but her grip on his hand didn’t loosen as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. He held on tight, as if doing so could keep her from drifting away, as if any amount of effort on his part could keep her with him.
When the ambulance finally pulled up to the emergency room, an EMT almost had to pry Jackson’s hand from Raina’s.
She opened her eyes, looked confused and scared and a little panicked. And Jackson leaned close, whispered into her ear, saying what he should have said before, saying what needed to be said just in case there wasn’t another chance to say it. “I love you, Raina.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard her say, “I love you, too,” as they wheeled her away.
TWENTY
Making pie crust one-handed wasn’t easy.
Somehow, having extra help had only made it more difficult.
They’d managed, though, and Raina couldn’t stop smiling as she looked at the broken crusts and misshapen pies she and Samuel had set out on the buffet table. Soon her less-than-beautiful pies would be joined by the food Jackson’s family was bringing. According to Stella, they’d arrived in D.C. the day before, and had taken over Jackson’s apartment. He’d driven back home after spending the day helping Raina make pies and had been forced to spend the night with Chance at the HEART office.
Raina smoothed a hand down her simple black dress. Jackson had told her to dress casually, but she wanted to impress his family. She hoped the black dress and lone strand of pearls would do it.
“You are beautiful,” Samuel said. “This Thanksgiving is beautiful.” He whirled around on his crutches, doing a fancy maneuver that made Raina laugh.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Jackson will be here soon?”
“I think so.” She glanced at the clock. He’d said he’d be there an hour before his family, but he hadn’t called to say he was leaving D.C.
“I think we will get married,” Samuel announced, hopping over to the table and looking longingly at the pie.
“You and the pie?”
“No!” Samuel laughed, the sound the most beautiful song Raina had ever heard. “You and Jackson and me.”
“Well...actually...”
The doorbell rang.
Saved by the bell!
“We’ll talk about it later.” She ran to the door, ignoring the slight throbbing in her shoulder. It opened before she reached it, cold air sweeping in as Jackson stepped through the doorway.
He looked good.
So good she threw herself into his arms.
He lifted her carefully, kissed her squarely on the mouth, then set her down again. “I have bad news.”
“What? Is your family not coming?” She wasn’t sure if she’d be relieved or disappointed if that were the case.
“Worse. I overslept my alarm this morning and didn’t wake up until Mom called and asked directions to your place. They were right behind me all the way here.”
“What? I don’t even have the silverware out.” She darted toward the kitchen, but he snagged the back of her dress and pulled her to a stop.
“Great-grandma brought her silverware and her china.”
“But—”
“And I suggested Chance take them on a scenic tour of the town. That should buy us about ten minutes. I don’t think Mom and the grandmas will let Chance drive around for any longer than that.”
“I’d better hurry, then. I still need to—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, sealing the words. “You need to relax. My family doesn’t need fancy. They don’t need perfect. They just need love, and I think you’ve got plenty of that to go around.”
“You’re right,” she said. “But I still wish I had some extra time. I wanted everything to be ready when they got here.” She glanced around the great room. The buffet table was out and the folding chairs that she’d borrowed from the church placed strategically around the room.
It looked nice, but she’d wanted to have a fire going and some music playing. “Maybe I should—”
“Stand right here with me and thank God that we have this day? It could have been a lot different.”
“I know,” she said, his words stealing away her nerves and insecurities. She’d almost died more than once in the past year, but she was here in her house with two people who she loved and who loved her. That couldn’t take away the heartache of her loss, but it could fill the emptiness if she let it.
She wanted to let it.
“Is that why you really came early?” she asked with a laugh. “To steal a piece of pie before it’s gone.”
“I came early,” he said, his expression suddenly serious, his eyes the deepest, darkest blue of the midnight sky, “because I love my family, but once they get here, they’re going to steal you away from me.”
“We’ll have other days.”
“We will, but they won’t be like today.” He glanced at Samuel, who was standing at the buffet table, his gaze locked on the pies. “A day when a boy gets to experience his first Thanksgiving and a man gets to watch the woman he loves meet his family. A day when the past is only the past and the future is something to hope and dream about.” He touched her cheek, his fingers gentle and warm. “A day when everything I’ve ever hoped for is standing right in front of me.”
“Jackson—”
“I love you, Raina, and I’m not afraid to let my family, my friends and the world know, but I wanted to come early to make sure you knew, because that’s all that really matters to me.”
Her heart swelled at his words, filling up with a million dreams she’d thought had died.
They were there in his eyes just waiting for her to believe in them again.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, and he leaned in and kissed her with passion and longing and love.
When he broke away, she was breathless, joyful, ready for whatever the future would bring.
“See?” Samuel said from his place at the buffet table. “I told you we were going to get married.”
“Samuel, he hasn’t asked me to marry him.”
“Yet,” Jackson said with a smile, hooking his arm around her waist and tugging her across the room. “But only because my great-gran would withhold her sweet potato casserole if I didn’t wait until she was here.”
Protective Instincts Page 18
