Chapter 20 #2
Gunshots pounded against her eardrums. If she’d been able to move, she would have covered her ears. As it was, she just lay facedown and prayed everyone thought she was dead. And in her head, one words echoed over and over in her brain.
Mark. Mark. Mark.
“Are you all right? Miss? Miss!”
A rough hand pulled at her, and she cried out in pain. “Let go!”
She jerked her arm back and then winced as the burn built. Damn it, her arm was on fire. Shit. She’d been shot. A long hot red streak across her upper arm. “Ow!” she said, putting all her anger into that one word. “That bastard shot me!”
She turned to look and then wished she hadn’t. Ball cap boy was dead. Really, really dead.
But wherever he was, stoic guy wasn’t far behind. “Where’s the other one?” she asked, scanning the ground in panic.
“The other one?”
“Yeah.” She took a breath, trying to remember.
She’d shot him, right? She couldn’t even remember.
“The bigger one.” He wasn’t anywhere she could see.
Then she saw a patch of grass that had slick dark blood on it.
Take that, you bastard. Though a second later she started to worry. Where the hell is he?
Meanwhile, the cop who’d grabbed her arm talked into a shoulder mic, something about, female hostage recovered, but she couldn’t focus on his words. Her mind was starting to catch up with her, and every part of her was looking for Mark.
Was he okay? He’d taken Alan to the ambulance, but she didn’t see them. And she desperately needed to see him just to reassure herself that he was alive. That she was alive. That everything was finally, absolutely okay.
“It’s just a graze, but there’s an ambulance nearby. Do you think you can walk?” the cop asked.
“I…” She swallowed, forcibly pulling her thoughts together. “I’m fine.” No, she wasn’t, but she didn’t want him fussing over her. She needed to find Mark.
“You’re doing great,” he said with a reassuring smile, as he looked hard at her wound. It wasn’t even really bleeding hard. She’d gotten worse that first time she’d Rollerbladed, but damn it stung.
Then he helped her stand and gestured around a large vacation house.
Now that she was out of the shed, she was getting a pretty good idea that she was somewhere in Michigan at a summer home around a lake.
They walked together with the cop keeping a wary eye out.
But once they made it to the front yard, she saw and heard the ambulance driving rapidly down the road.
Away from them. The cop cursed, but Julie’s eyes were on Mark.
He’d been watching the vehicle pull away, but as it tore down the road, he turned around.
She knew the moment he spotted her because his body suddenly sagged in relief.
She laughed, the sound more sob of relief than humor.
He looked exhausted and worried and handsome in his scrub shirt and dirty khakis.
Nothing about him was clean or crisp, and yet he’d never appeared more perfect to her.
She called out his name and ran straight for him.
If the cop tried to stop her, she didn’t notice.
And within a second, she was in his arms. He held her tight, lifting her up as he squeezed her, and everything inside her felt right.
She felt him bury his face in her hair and one of them shuddered in reaction, though she couldn’t tell who.
“I knew you’d come,” she said against his shoulder. “I knew it.”
He didn’t speak, just squeezed her tighter. At some point the cop interrupted them. He might have been speaking for a while. She didn’t know and didn’t care. But eventually the words penetrated. Or more specifically, Mark’s reaction to the words.
“She’s been shot. She needs a doctor.”
Mark tensed and rapidly set her back on her heels. His hands started patting her body while his gaze raked her from head to toe.
“It’s a scrape,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re going to the hospital—” he began, but the cop cut him off.
“You’re going to stay out of this. If you hadn’t run in there half-cocked, this would have been a lot safer. And the assholes wouldn’t be halfway to Canada by now.”
Julie watched as Mark visibly controlled his expression.
He clearly wanted to rip the guy’s head off, but she set a hand on his chest. She felt the heat of him and the uneven stutter of his breath.
He wrapped his own hand around hers, and together they both seemed to breathe easier.
“You’re right,” he finally said. “But she was screaming. I couldn’t—” His voice choked off.
“I’m fine,” Julie said. “And Alan’s going to be fine.” She looked down the road. “That’s where the ambulance went, right?”
He nodded. “He stopped seizing, but he looked pretty bad.” Then he looked back to the cop. “I can take her to the hospital. She’s safe with me, I swear. And you can go back…” He gestured with his chin.
“My partner’s still searching.” The cop clearly wanted to go help, but didn’t like leaving her alone.
“Mark can take me to the hospital,” she said. “You go help.”
“I can call for another ambulance.”
Julie smiled at the man. “No. Please. I’m safe now.”
The guy glared at Mark, but in the end he gave in. It helped that another squad car was coming down the road. “I’ll find you at the hospital,” he said then he started jogging back around, speaking into his mic and calling for his partner’s twenty.
Julie took a breath, then wrapped herself in Mark’s arms again. He was strong and solid, he held her close. She was safe. Finally, she was safe
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’d die if something happened to you,” he said.
She pinched him where she gripped his side. “Stop talking about dying,” she said. “I hate it.”
He didn’t answer, just pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
And then another to her cheek. And before long, she had lifted her face to his and they were kissing deeply.
But it wasn’t rough or even rushed. It was heartbreakingly tender as he took care with her lips, her mouth, her tongue.
Every second felt reverential, and she melted into him until in her mind, they were one.
Then he pulled back. “I need to get you to a doctor,” he said against her temple.
“Okay,” she said. And they turned as one, walking to a truck.
“It’s Carl’s,” he said as he pulled out the key.
Behind them, the new squad car pulled in and officers got out but didn’t bother them.
Must not have seen them, she realized because the truck was parked on the opposite side, half hidden in the woods.
In fact, it was shoved up so close to the trees that it was going to be hard to open the passenger side door.
“Do you need to help Tonya or Carl?” she asked, looking over his shoulder as the new police officers ran around the house.
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.
Besides, I can’t shift. Or I shouldn’t. And I’m shit with a gun.
” There was worry in his voice, and she shared his anxiety.
Even so, she was grateful that he chose to stay with her.
She still felt shaky and the world had a brittle quality to it just then.
She didn’t even want to let go of him to climb into the truck.
He seemed to understand that—or maybe needed to hold her as much as she needed it—so he pulled open the passenger door but didn’t push her in. They just held each other. One breath. A thousand breaths. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t ever letting him go.
And then they ran out of time.