Chapter 28
Two minutes earlier…
Fleur
Men.
Creatures I’d determined to keep from my life, but I’d been forced to realize there was no chance of doing so.
Not with a man like Montgomery around.
If they made another superhero movie, he’d be cast in the starring role. Minus the cape because there was no chance in hell he’d tolerate something so unmanly.
A slight shiver drifted down my spine as the smoke continued to rise toward the bright morning sky. The stench was acrid, the carnage unbelievable, but we were alive.
And he’d killed the monsters determined to kill us.
Then he’d pulled me from the wreckage. I was overwhelmed with so many emotions, fighting for clarity while a crowd gathered around us in an arc.
As soon as Montgomery started to walk toward me, I moved forward.
I longed to feel his strong arms around me once again.
He’d done everything to protect me and I’d almost cost us our lives.
The horrible feeling of guilt would never leave. Another shiver as the light breeze tickled my skin. As I pulled hair from my face, a glint caught my eye. In the split second as my brain registered, my throat began to close.
No. No. No!
“Montgomery!”
Pop!
The single shot slammed into his back, pummeling him to the pavement.
The gun he’d held in his hand skipped along the surface toward me.
The moment of utter horror was captured as if stolen by time.
A jolt of current popped the horrific bubble just as the assailant raised his gun again, determined to finish the job someone else had started.
A gut reaction of saving the man I loved kicked in and I threw myself toward the weapon, uncertain what the hell I was doing. Yet my instinct guided me and in those now frozen seconds of time, there was no hesitation or cause for guilt, no second thinking what needed to occur.
I fired off two shots, stumbling backwards instantly.
In thriller movies the bad guy went down like a rock, but this asshole had time to grin and as if in slow motion, the weapon fell from his hands before he crumpled to the pavement.
Shocked, for a few seconds I could hear nothing. Not a single sound. No birds although a rush of wings fluttered by low in the sky. No screams from onlookers, although I sensed several were shouting.
Nothing that would indicate Montgomery was alive.
I’d grown used to sobbing over the last few days, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t sick of the emotion. I needed to be strong and not only for myself. I tumbled down beside Montgomery, gently rolling him over.
“Oh, God. Montgomery.” He wasn’t moving, barely breathing.
The shrill sound of sirens was everywhere, cutting through the quiet moment as an ugly reminder of the danger.
“Stay with me. Help is on the way. Someone call an ambulance. Please.” My wail was high pitched and I had no idea if anyone was listening.
Or cared.
I was trapped in a moment of time that would haunt me for months. A strange place. No one to turn to. No one to call to help me. Then I remembered what Montgomery had told me to do if anything happened. And not grab the go bag and run. It was torched along with everything else.
The number.
Call his brother.
Sirens were everywhere, coming from both directions.
I’d memorized it. With my hand shaking, I pulled out my phone, fighting falling tears and anger. Just as the call was answered on the second ring, I could see cop cars rolling up only yards away.
“I’m getting help, Montgomery. Just hold on. Please hold on.”
Montgomery moved, coughing when he did. Spittle of blood oozed from his lips. Oh, God. No. No.
“Who is this?” The voice was dark, angry, and similar to Montgomery’s.
“Alexander Prince?”
“I asked who this is.” The tone was slightly softer. Still on edge.
“You don’t know me. I’m Fleur Sebastian. I’m with your brother. We were ambushed and… And…”
“Fleur. It’s okay. Calm down.”
Another cough and Montgomery’s eyes opened. God. They were dilated. A racking sob erupted past my lips, the ache leaving me incapable of breathing.
Footsteps. Lots of them.
Montgomery was choking.
“Your brother is hurt, been shot. I can’t… I’m alone and the police just arrived. He told me to call you.”
“We’re on our way. How is he?”
As I peered down, I pressed my hand against his face. He was so, so damn cold. Another choke. More blood.
“He’s…”
His entire body shook for a few seconds. Then there was nothing. Nothing. I pressed my fingers against his pulse, digging the tips into his skin. Then I did it again. And again.
“No. No! He’s… I think he’s dead.”
I threw my head back and screamed.
The letter.
I couldn’t even remember snatching it from the dashboard before the horrific accident. But I found it hours later after arriving in New Orleans, much of my arrival a blur. There’d been men everywhere, all carrying guns.
All trying to help.
Several days had passed since then. Three. Or so I believed.
The first night I couldn’t remember at all, except for the terror I’d felt enshrouding me, the suffocating moments when I’d continued to play the day’s events over in my mind like a broken record.
Slowly, by the end of the next day, the fog had lifted and I’d been grateful to have someone to lean on. The Prince family were amazing people, stronger than I was. I didn’t know how they handled such tragedies, but they seemed to have a pronounced resolve.
Meanwhile, I’d been a blubbering fool.
I studied the suncatcher in the window and at least it brought me a smile with the way it reflected the sunlight. The little gift was supposed to make me feel as if I was back home. I don’t know if any of the Prince brothers had been to Stowe, but New Orleans was nothing like Vermont.
The sights. The sounds. The music. All incredible.
I’d seen Bourbon Street from afar, but the stunning architecture and lively crowds had silently beckoned me to come spend several days exploring the shops and bakeries.
Maybe later.
When I could breathe again.
When I wasn’t terrified or angry, sad or ready to take out my aggression on a coffeepot that just. Didn’t.
Want. To. Work. Huffing, I blew hair out of my eyes, fingering the stunning figurine.
The gift was perfect. I’d need to thank Alexander’s wife Catherine once again when my manners finally returned.
They’d somehow managed to get drop kicked to hell after killing a man. Now, I would easily do so again without question or hesitation. However, no matter what anyone would ever say to me, killing someone did change a person.
I still wasn’t used to the pull the Prince family had over just about everyone I’d come into contact with from medical personal to law enforcement, but I’d been questioned about the various incidents for about twenty minutes and allowed to leave with Alexander and his brother Jaxon.
They’d acted like my big brothers, protecting me from everything from the press to nosy neighbors.
Right now, I wasn’t entirely certain whether I craved a stiff cup of chicory coffee, all the rage so I heard in New Orleans, or a tall glass of wine. I was leaning toward the wine. I’d need courage to finally read Danny’s letter.
Out of everything in the Blazer, I’d left with the necklace he’d given me and the letter. Everything else had burned in the fire. Things could be replaced.
But my brother couldn’t.
At least I had to honor him by reading what he’d fought so desperately to tell me. I’d clutched the envelope so many times it was thoroughly creased, but that wouldn’t change the contents. The task had to be completed.
There was a sudden, powerful presence behind me, the rich, masculine scent creating tingles. I took a deep breath, allowing his reflection to torment me instead of the colorful butterfly in the suncatcher.
“You’re not supposed to be out of bed.”
“No, you’re supposed to be in my bed. Why is that?”
I turned slowly to face Montgomery, able to breathe another sigh of relief.
He’d been damn lucky the shot had gone clean through, the blood from his mouth the result of his lung being nicked, but the damage had been minimal.
He was still in recovery, but after two days at the hospital, he’d checked himself out against his doctor’s orders.
At least he hadn’t gone on a hunt like the others in his family, who’d already rounded up several Russians. I hadn’t asked about their fate, but I’d obviously watched The Hunger Games one too many times as I’d wanted them eliminated from the playing field.
I had a feeling I’d gotten my wish.
“Because you’re still recovering. You’re not Superman,” I answered.
“That’s not what you told me while standing over my hospital bed.” He closed the distance, his nostrils flaring as he peered down at me. I’d seen the look several times before, the hunger that knew no bounds.
Which was exactly the same reaction I felt. Well, after I’d learned he would survive of course. Today, he looked scrumptious.
Heat flushed my cheeks and I laughed softly from embarrassment. “Oh, you heard that.”
“I heard everything, my beautiful flower. Every word.”
“Great.” The single word was said with full sarcasm.
He cupped my chin in his usual possessive way, which made me feel all flustery inside. He had a way of doing that with a single look and nothing more.
“Yes, a superhero. I think I like that term. I might require my Capo to call me that.”
“And my guess is that Gio will slit your throat one night when you’re sleeping if you do.”
How I adored hearing his laugh, something I’d thought about when he’d been in surgery. “You might be right. I’ll go without the title. Except in bed.” He lowered his head while I automatically tilted mine, even rising onto my toes to make it easier for him to kiss me.
As always, the taste of him and the way he held me was exactly what I needed. He swept his tongue inside, taking his time exploring.