Chapter Fifteen #2
“Why won’t you just die?” Blane’s voice was shaking.
So was the hand that held the knife as it cut across her skin.
“Shit, I was so afraid that you’d remember me.
I met you before. Charles introduced us the same day I killed the bastard.
He’d hired you to watch Shelly, but I swear, you’d fucking gotten some kind of crush on her.
You were telling Charles that you wanted to meet her, that you wanted to explain who you were.
You thought you were going to have some kind of chance with her, and that would have screwed up everything.
So I had to act. I took out Charles. Devin went after you, and then Shelly… ”
Her right arm lifted, moving slowly.
“Devin wanted to kill you right away, but I thought maybe I’d try my old idea of marrying you, Shelly.
I mean, too many deaths would have looked suspicious.
No one could connect John and Charles, but both you and Charles?
Siblings dead within such a short period?
That would have been too much, too soon.
So I had to bide my time. I knew you’d come up here for the holidays.
You always do. That was going to be my chance. ”
“You…sabotaged my car, that first night…”
“No, that was Devin.” He laughed. “I sabotaged my own car because I knew no one would ever suspect me then.”
She hadn’t suspected him. Shelly felt his mouth against her ear as he said, “You were either going to fall for me, or you were going to die.”
“She’s not dying,” John snapped.
No, she wasn’t planning to die. Shelly had too much that she wanted to do in this world. Moving as fast as she could, not stopping to worry about what might happen next, she drove her right elbow back into Blane’s stomach, knowing she’d be hitting the same area she’d wounded earlier.
He let out a howl of pain, and she surged forward as his hold loosened, just for a moment, thinking this was her chance.
But Blane grabbed her. Caught her arm and nearly dislocated her shoulder as he spun her back toward him. He brought up the knife, drove it down at her—
“She’s not dying.” John’s words. Only this time, they were said right next to her. Because he was there. He surged in front of her and the knife hit him. It sliced over his chest, but he just drove out his fist, slamming it into Blane’s jaw.
Blane staggered back. The knife flew from his fingers. He scrambled, trying to get his gun.
But John was on him. John jerked the fellow to his feet, and John had Blane’s gun in his hand before the sheriff could even make another sound.
John pointed the gun right at Blane’s chest.
Blane stilled.
Shelly’s right hand was at her throat, trying to stop the blood that kept sliding down her skin. Her left hand hung limply at her side. She didn’t feel the pain from that wrist any longer.
“Do it,” Blane challenged John. “Pull that trigger. Let Shelly see you kill again. Let her see, let her know what she’s going to be sleeping with for the rest of her life.”
She knew exactly what John was and that BS crap Blane was spilling would never change her opinion of him.
John didn’t pull the trigger. He glared at Blane.
Blane started to laugh. “I’m going to tell the world. Tell them what a freak you are. You’re going to get hauled back to that lab. Be trapped there, kept as a prisoner—”
“No,” Shelly’s voice was quiet and clear.
“You’re the one who will be a prisoner. You’re going to be locked up.
Put away for the rest of your life.” She lurched toward John, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her.
“And if you try to spread stories about him, who do you think will believe you? After all, no one can come back from the dead.”
Rage twisted Blane’s face. Such stark fury. “It should have been mine! The company, the money—all mine!”
“Don’t worry, Sheriff,” John told him coldly. “I’m sure you’ll get exactly what you have coming to you.” Then John drove his fist into Blane’s face again, knocking the guy out. Blane crumpled to the floor.
It only took John seconds to cuff him, using the handcuffs that had been on Blane’s belt. John secured the cuffs tightly in front of Blane’s body. And then John was reaching for Shelly. Pulling her into his arms. Holding her tight.
As tightly as she held him.
“God, baby,” John whispered. “That knife at your throat…” And he pulled back, his hands moving to gently touch her skin. “Shit, we need to get you to town. You’re going to need stitches.”
“I-I meant what I said.”
A furrow appeared between his brows.
“I love you,” Shelly told him.
His face softened. His eyes gleamed. John pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. So tender.
“We’re getting you to town,” he whispered against her mouth. “Then after you’re patched up, I’m taking you to bed. And keeping you in my arms until Christmas is over.”
Sounded good to her. She swallowed and forced her lips to curl. Her stomach was twisting and dizziness slid through her again as the adrenaline started to crash, but she didn’t want him to think she was weak so Shelly just stiffened her spine.
John grabbed Blane and started hauling him back outside. With her right hand, Shelly scooped up the gun that had been left behind, and she followed him out. John dumped Blane into the back of the sheriff’s cruiser. John left the back door open as he glared at the unconscious man.
As she stood on her porch, Shelly saw the bright glare of headlights coming her way. She frowned into the glare, but John didn’t seem worried. He turned toward the approaching vehicle, putting his hands on his hips.
The vehicle’s doors opened. Sawyer Cage and Jay Maverick jumped out.
“We got here as fast as we could!” Jay called. “Good thing we were near this way when Sawyer got your distress signal—”
“Behind you!” Sawyer bellowed.
Shelly’s gaze flew to John. No, behind John. Blane had jumped from the back of that cruiser. He held a gun in his still cuffed hands.
Back-up weapon. The bastard had a back-up weapon hidden on him.
Blane was aiming that weapon at John. At his head.
No! Shelly had a shot. She took it. The bullet blasted from the gun she held, and it found its target.
Blane’s mouth gaped open. His eyes whipped to her. He fell, collapsing in the snow, and the white soon turned to red beneath him.
Sawyer and Jay ran toward Blane’s collapsed form, but John—John hurried to Shelly’s side. She was still aiming the gun.
“Baby…” His voice was hoarse.
The light-headedness she felt got worse. Just how much blood had she lost? Shelly glanced down at her left wrist. Blood soaked her hand. And the porch beneath her was covered with a pool of her blood.
“I think…I do need those stitches…” Her body swayed.
John scooped her into his arms. “Shelly?”
Her eyes started to sag closed. She’d stopped Blane. John was safe. And she…
“Love you,” Shelly whispered, and she felt John’s arms tighten around her. He’d take care of her, she knew it. Things would be okay.
After all, they had to be. This was Christmas. She and John were just starting their new traditions.
Everything had to be okay.