Live for Love
Vera
“Alistair, we’re getting help. An ambulance is on its way,” Constable Fraser assured, kneeling by his side.
“Scotty, speak to me,” I pleaded. I was about to unbutton his shirt to see the wound when he placed his warm hand on mine.
He groaned, then smiled wearily. “Sweetheart, did I ever tell you I love you?
“All the time,” I said, holding onto hope. “I love you, too.”
“Alistair, how are you feeling?” the police officer asked. Loose strands of her dark curly hair, hastily tied in a bun, fell on her face when she lowered her head to examine him.
“I’m in shock and pain right now, Constance. But why were you and Frank late?” Alistair asked, gazing at the officer.
“We got here as fast as we could, but the traffic at this time of the year is shit, even when we used the siren,” Constance said, referring to the masses of people driving into town for their Christmas shopping.
“Where are you hurt?” I searched Alistair’s eyes. I was not ready to lose him. I needed him alive.
“Do you have faith in me?” he asked, attempting to grin before wincing in pain.
“Yes, I do, Scotty,” I answered, squeezing his hand.
“Alistair, can you show me where the pain is?” Constance asked.
He pointed at his lower chest and nodded at me as I began to unbutton his shirt. Why wasn’t he bleeding where the bullet tore through his shirt?
“My God.”
A concealed vest revealed itself to me after I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the fabric aside. The bullet lodged itself in the vest, which hugged his slim frame.
“That shot knocked the wind out of me,” Alistair rasped as he glanced down at the impact.
One of the officers helped me peel off his shirt and ease the vest away. Alistair winced, but he stayed upright.
“I’ll live,” he said, flashing me a strained grin. “But I’ll be wearing one hell of a bruise.”
“How did you even know you’d need this?” I asked, staring at the vest, my pulse still racing.
His fingers closed around mine, steady despite the tremor. “I wasn’t about to take chances.”
“You amaze me.” I wiped the tears from my eyes, my heart climbing back from the pit.
“Yeah, I’m pretty proud of myself,” Alistair murmured, wincing but grinning. “This vest’s the kind security forces swear by. Costs a fortune, but you barely know it’s there.”
I smothered him with kisses—his forehead, his cheek, his jaw, his lips—each one a thankful prayer. “Thank God you’ll be okay. You have no idea how much I love you.”
“I think I do.” His green eyes sparked with mischief, that cheeky half-grin curving his mouth before it melted into a low, quiet chuckle.
“I will never doubt you love me,” I swore, my voice breaking.
“We live for love,” Alistair whispered. His smile lingered as his eyes slid shut, clinging to my words like they were the only thing keeping him tethered.
“Alistair, we need to move you now. We need to check for blunt force trauma, possible rib fractures,” Constance said as two paramedics rushed in with a stretcher.
“Can I come with him?” I asked quickly. Alistair gave the faintest nod before the officer answered.
“Ma’am, you can ride with us.”
“Everything will be fine, right?” My eyes searched Constance’s face, needing the reassurance.
“You’re fine. Both of you are safe.” She squeezed my hand.
I nodded as relief settled in my chest. We were in good hands.
Alistair
Christmas Day
“Can you manage to sit up?” Vera asked, adjusting the pillows on my divan.
“Sure,” I said, watching my family tear open their Christmas presents, laughter filling the room.
I adjusted my new wristband—a gift from Vera.
Cool steel pressed against my skin, the words “I love you” embossed in Morse code.
I traced the dots and dashes with my thumb, the secret message beating quietly beside my pulse.
My chest was mottled with bruises, and my ribs ached with every shallow breath.
They would heal. Most things did. Would I put my life at risk for my woman again?
Without a doubt. Vera was worth dying for.
More importantly, she was worth living for.
Regardless of past scars, I owed it to myself, and to her, to make the most of what came next.
“My mom called. She wished us a Merry Christmas,” Vera chirped, throwing a grin my way.
“Is she enjoying her new yacht in Monaco?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“Heck, yeah. She and her new boyfriend are having the time of their lives. She told me to thank you again. Guess you’re unforgettable.”
“There’s no need to thank me. Are you happy with your present?”
“Are you kidding me? I love strays.” Vera’s eyes shone as she stroked her tricolored cat, who purred and kneaded her lap, eyes contentedly closed. “Mimi is gorgeous. Thank you for rescuing her.”
Seeing Vera this happy, I couldn’t help but smile. This—right here—was all I ever wanted.
“We’ll take the little lady with us wherever we go. She’ll be treated like a queen,” I promised, giving Mimi a little scratch under her chin. The cat opened her yellow eyes, hopped off Vera’s lap, and padded to her food bowl.
“How’s your present?” I asked Damian as he pulled off his virtual reality headset, his hair sticking up in all directions. My teenage son stood as tall as Vera now and was still growing.
“It’s cool,” he said, grinning as he handed the headset to her. “Do you want to try it out?”
“Sure.” She slipped it on, giggling as she adjusted the strap. “Whoa. This is incredible.”
I watched her reach out, as if trying to touch something only she could see.
Damian smirked, rolling his eyes in mock impatience, then thanked Julian and Sapphire for their gift—a hoodie from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“Am I invited to the summer wedding?” I teased Julian as Sapphire admired the diamond flashing on her finger. In true Julian style, he’d flown her to New York and dropped to one knee at the Temple of Dendur inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Classic, over-the-top, and unforgettable.
“You’re my best man,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. He was hopelessly in love with Sapphire, who leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Can I come to the bachelor party?” Damian piped up. “I’m a teen now.”
“No.” Vera and I shut him down in unison.
“You’re way too young. Absolutely not, son.” I shot him a scowl.
“C’mon, Dad. Some of my friends already have girlfriends,” he protested.
“Are you old enough to go to college and earn a living?” Vera countered.
“Nope.”
“There’s your answer.”
“Alright, Mom,” he muttered, sulking just enough to make her laugh.
Saph grinned at Vera, who gave a knowing nod as if they were sharing some secret code.
Speaking of secrets, Bianca’s team tracked down the journalist Saira used to smear Vera’s name.
Vera wasted no time in filing a defamation suit against the reporter and the newspaper.
She had help from Bianca, who used her connections with the national journalists’ alliance.
Both the journalist and editor were expelled, disgraced, and forced to issue a public apology.
Erin’s fate was sealed. She’d face trial for murdering Holly, attempting to kill Vera, and injuring me.
Soon, she’d join Saira behind bars. Oliver filed for divorce after learning Erin had been slipping laxatives into his food and drinks.
He called me this morning, wished me a Merry Christmas.
It was the first time in years our voices hadn’t bristled with tension.
“I was wrong about Vera,” he admitted. “She’s the kind of woman I should have married.”
“You’ll meet a woman who teaches you what real love feels like,” I told him. “How’s Camilla?”
“She’s wonderful. We spent Christmas with Mom and Dad today,” he said, his voice softening. “It was quiet this year, but it felt good. Camilla lit up the whole room. We’ll all come by tomorrow morning.”
“Wonderful. I look forward to it.”
“Scotty?”
“Yeah?”
“Camilla said her first word this morning.”
“Yeah, is that so?”
“She said, ‘Daddy.’ I never thought...”
“Those words are fitting, Ollie. You’re a great dad. Promise me you’ll always love her, will you?”
“She’s loved, Scotty. We’ll talk tomorrow. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Ollie.”
I wondered, what tipped Erin over the edge? Was it insanity, vanity, or stupidity? Perhaps it was all three. For all her charm, Erin was a compulsive liar with delusions of grandeur through to her soul’s core. She was evil.
As for Saira, I requested that the correctional facility keep a close eye on her.
Even from behind bars, she was a master puppeteer who could control people and drive them mad to commit the most heinous crimes.
The Quinn empire, comprising big tech, real estate, and oil services, underwent a change of guard; she was no longer on the board of directors.
I stacked it with my people over the past twelve months.
The final replacement for her seat was already in motion—a reclusive expatriate based in Tokyo.
On paper, his name was F. Lazarus. He’d done a phenomenal job expanding one of my projects in Japan, loyal, discreet, and efficient. With him in place, I held the keys to Lester Harbor.
Then came the call. A private investigator’s voice delivered the kind of revelation that knocks the ground out from under you. When the line went dead, I sat frozen, staring at the wall as the weight of the news pressed in.
“Scotty?” Vera’s voice cut through, soft but worried. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you remember when I told you Saira’s brother died in a boating accident years ago?”
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“Nick Quinn is alive.”