Chapter Fifteen
The thunder of the gun was too loud. The men crashed to the floor as Shelly rushed toward them.
Bam. Bam.
Two more shots.
And…
John was on the floor. Not moving. There was blood streaming from his temple.
Blane staggered to his feet. His hand was shaking as he took aim again. “Let’s be real sure that you don’t come back again, asshole.”
Shelly threw her body at him. They collided with a force hard enough to make her bones shudder before they slammed into the little table nearby.
It splintered beneath them, sending a lamp shattering to the floor.
She rolled fast and surged to her feet, aware of blood spilling from her wrist where a thick, glass shard of the broken lamp had lodged.
The shard was long and jagged, and it hurt like a bitch. “Stop!”
He still had the gun. The bastard hadn’t dropped it, but at least he hadn’t been able to shoot John again. And her body was between Blane and John now.
“I won’t let you do it,” Shelly swore. “You’ll have to kill me before you can get to him.”
But Blane…laughed. Laughed as he holstered his weapon. “Oh, Shelly, that was always the plan.”
She shook her head.
He bent and pulled a knife out of his boot.
Fumbling, she yanked the chunk of glass out of her wrist. More blood flowed, but she ignored the wrenching pain. She wanted to look back at John, to see if he was still alive, but she didn’t dare take her gaze off Blane.
“Can’t kill you with my service weapon.” Blane gave a little shrug.
“That wouldn’t make sense.” His gloved fingers gripped the knife.
“So I’ll use this, and then I’ll put it in John’s hand.
My bullets are in him because, well, someone had to save the day after he attacked you, and, of course, I was just the man for the job. ”
“Your plan is a whole freaking lot like Devin’s was!”
He smiled at her. Took a step toward her. She instantly slid back.
“It is,” Blane agreed. “Because we were working together. It was all supposed to be so easy.” His gaze darted over her shoulder. “Who the fuck knew a super soldier was going to come to your rescue?”
Her bloody fingers curled around the chunk of glass. She used her right hand because she could barely feel the fingers of her left. She didn’t want to look at her wound to see how bad it was. “You were working with Devin.”
“I just said I was, didn’t I? I mean, shit, what did you expect me to do?”
“I don’t understand. We were friends—”
“You and your brother had the company. You had all the money. God, Shelly!” A sharp bark of laughter came from him.
“You didn’t even care about the company!
You spent your days painting pictures and not even noticing the world around you!
I thought at first that I could romance you, get you to marry me, and then I’d take what was mine.
I mean, I always kind of liked you. But you screwed that up, didn’t you?
Backed away from me before I had any real chance. ”
“We were friends,” Shelly said again. She was talking mostly to buy herself time. To buy John time. She kept telling herself that he just needed time to heal. But Jay’s voice replayed in her head. I’ll make sure that you stay permanently dead. A bullet to the brain will do that to your kind.
“You know who else was friends?” Blane demanded, tossing her word back at her.
“My dad and your father. They were such fucking good friends that they worked together up here in the mountains, they invented together, but your asshole of a father stole the ideas my old man created. He took the inventions. He patented them. He got all the money, and I got left with jackshit.”
Her heart surged in her chest. “That isn’t true.”
“It fucking is!” Blane screamed. “My dad didn’t think the shit they made was going to be worth anything. Thought they were just tinkering around. He signed the rights away. Let your dad pay him five grand for them. Five freaking grand! Then your dad walked away and made millions.”
Her breath came faster. Harder.
“My dad died when I was eighteen. I’d just found the papers he signed.
I knew he’d helped to build that damn company.
Your dad came to me. You know what he did?
” Blane didn’t give her a chance to respond before he blasted, “Offered to pay for my fucking college. Like that was going to make us even. I asked him about my dad’s inventions.
And your father lied to my face. He said the things he’d done with my father hadn’t helped the company.
That he’d had to completely change them, redevelop them. Bullshit!”
“Blane—”
“I wanted what was mine. Even after your dad died, I had to stay on this godforsaken mountain, waiting, watching, as Charles got more and more money.”
And the rage inside of him had grown.
“Then Charles took a partner.” More laughter spilled from him.
“But it wasn’t long before good old Charles found out that Devin had been taking money from the company.
” Blane’s lips curled in a humorless smile.
“I heard them arguing one day, outside of Sammy’s.
Charles was going to fire Devin. Going to cut the man off without anything. And I saw my opening.”
Her gaze dropped to the knife in his hand. She had a flash of facing Devin again. For an instant, she could see his face so clearly. She’d accused him of killing her brother. His eyes had gleamed and instead of a confession, he’d just said, “Did I?”
Pain twisted in her stomach. “There were no signs of a forced entry at my brother’s house. The police thought he knew his attacker. That he let the guy inside. He didn’t even fight back because he didn’t see the attack coming.”
Blane glanced at the knife in his hand.
Shelly swallowed. Blood kept dripping onto the floor near her as her wrist bled and bled. “Devin didn’t kill my brother, did he?”
“Devin was supposed to take out the bodyguard your brother had tailing you.” Anger roughened Blane’s voice. “Turns out that asshole was harder to kill than we thought.”
Her shoulders stiffened, her spine straightened, and an ice-cold rage filled every vein in her body as she tightly gripped the chunk of glass. “You killed my brother.”
“I was just taking back what was mine. Years I spent up here, watching him get richer and richer and—”
She flew at him. Ran straight for him and slashed him with the chunk of glass.
He wasn’t prepared for her attack. The jerk had still been going on and on about how he deserved his cut of the money.
She sliced him across the face, cutting into his cheek.
He yelled and instinctively lifted his hand to shield his face.
People always cared so much about their faces.
He was so busy defending himself that he wasn’t striking back.
She sliced again, cutting across the arm he’d raised. Then she drove the chunk of glass at his stomach, shoving it as hard as she could.
He stumbled back.
“My brother worked for everything he had! So did my father.” Her breath heaved out.
“I saw your dad’s old designs years ago, you dumbass.
They didn’t work. They never worked. Only no one said anything to you because we didn’t want to tarnish your memory of your dad.
My father gave him that five grand because your dad was broke, and he needed a loan from a friend. There was never any partnership—”
His hand closed around her throat. His left hand grabbed her throat and his right brought the knife up to her face.
He put the blade right on her cheek. “You fucking bitch.” He squeezed her neck harder, choking her, and she could only gasp.
Spittle flew into her face as he demanded, “Did you think a chunk of glass was going to stop me?” His breath blew over, and the scent of alcohol was so strong.
He’d gotten his liquid courage, then he’d come up there to kill her.
She thought he’d slice open her cheek. But he didn’t.
He laughed at her again. “Glad you gave me a few wounds,” he muttered. “It’ll make my story more believable.” He stopped choking her but moved the knife down to her throat. “Got anything you want to say?”
Not to him. “I love you, John.”
Blane’s eyes widened. “What the fuck—”
“Sweetheart, I love you, too.”
Blane hauled her forward. Twisted her around so that her back was against his chest and his arms looped around her. He kept the knife at her throat, cutting into her skin so that blood spilled from her neck. Not deep enough to kill, but the threat was there.
And she saw John. Standing near their Christmas tree. Blood dripped down his temple, covering the side of his face. His shirt was wet with blood, too, as if he’d been shot in the chest, and she remembered hearing the extra blasts of gunfire.
“No!” Blane screamed. “I shot you in the head! I heard what that bastard said in town—a shot to the head will kill you! I shot you—”
“Shelly’s scream warned me. I was able to dodge a direct hit.
” John’s smile was absolutely terrifying because it promised death.
“You grazed my head. The bullet didn’t go into my brain.
” He waved toward his chest. “These wounds took me out for a bit, but as you can see, I’m back now.
” He pointed at Blane. “And you’re a dead man. ”
Shelly was smiling. She couldn’t help it. A knife was at her throat, but John was back. She’d bought him the time he needed. Blane wasn’t going to win.
“Stay away from me!” Blane blasted. “Or I will slice her from ear to fucking ear! She’ll be dead before you can reach me.”
Was it true? Or was John faster? She could see the struggle on his face. He wanted to lunge forward, but…
Blane pressed harder on her throat. She didn’t make a sound, she wouldn’t give Blane the satisfaction of making her cry out, but Shelly felt more blood slide down her neck as the pain deepened.