Big Girls Don't Cry (32 page)

Jake shrugged, wincing at the pain the small gesture caused in his neck.

“Anthony was a secretive son of a bitch. Never trusted anyone. He made his notes in code. I guess your real downfall, Dirk, was that that you were unlucky enough to draw me into the mix. Unlikely that anyone else would have figured out Anthony’s notes.”

Dirk’s face twisted in an ugly grin.

“Ah, my friend, we will wait to decide which of us will experience a ‘downfall’.”

Dirk pursed his lips, and made a production of lighting a slim Cuban cigar. Blowing the aromatic smoke high in the air, he grimaced at Jake through half lidded eyes.

“But, Jake, that’s not enough. If Beloi knew all that, he would have gone to his superiors. Even that clown of a police chief might have been able to figure out the rest.”

“The last thing I want to do, Dirk, is stroke your ego. But let’s face it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that an enterprise this big, this multi-national, had to be the master plan of someone damned high up in the food chain. And, hell, who could be better positioned to bring in scores of illegal drugs than the guy who oversees logistics for the U.S. Army.”

Dirk puffed on his cigar, thoughtfully.

“So you didn’t buy into all my carefully planted hints that it was Mike Pierce overseeing the operation?”

“Actually, Mike helped me put the final pieces together. I met with him this morning and told him my suspicions, showed him my evidence. He followed up and tonight confirmed the information we needed to bring you down. Seems that in every post you’ve had in the last five years, the local economy has been affected by the influx of high grade dope. Mike confirmed that Yuma was only the latest of your playgrounds.”

“Yeah, Dirk, as much as he dislikes me, he loves the army more, refused to let a fucking scumbag like you pollute his beloved army.”

Jake groaned when the goon beside him drove one fierce punch in his gut and followed it up with a slam to his jaw.

He was gratified that Dirk’s face had paled at the knowledge that he was outed. Now to figure out how to take advantage of what, at least as far as his future was concerned, was a small victory.

Dirk’s voice had lost its swagger, but the crazed hate in his eyes blazed as bright as ever.

“You think you’ve won, Jake? Oh, no. Not this time, asshole. This time I’ve outsmarted even you. Yeah, you might have brought down the drug ring. But you and I know it’ll spring right back up within the week. I don’t give a fuck. I got what I needed. Enough money for the best plastic surgeon in the world and expensive hideaways in eight countries. In several months Dirk Reynolds will be MIA permanently.”

The manic fire in Dirk’s eyes was matched by the spittle forming in the corners of his mouth, both signs of how close he was to madness. His voice was shrill, gleeful, gloating.

“The sound of that helicopter revving up is going to take me to the plane waiting for me across the border – just outside of U. S. jurisdiction.”

“One more thing, Jake. I don’t like to fly alone. I’ve arranged to have the lovely Miss Beloi accompany me on my journey. I regret that you won’t be joining us. I had hoped that your dying moments would be filled with the sights and sounds of my fucking her in more orifices that she knew she had.”

Jake couldn’t suppress a harsh cry. “No! God, no!”

“Ah, yes, Jake. My minions are bringing her now.” He glanced at his phone. “They should be here any minute.”

~~~

“Actually, I chose to come with a different escort,” a cool voice said from the doorway.

In the seconds that followed, a blast of gunshots ricocheted around the room. The goons beside him dropped first. As Dirk recovered from his momentary shock and drew his gun, pointing it at Jake, a flash of steel flew across the room, landing in Dirks’ throat. But not before he fired his gun.

The last thing Jake knew before blessed unconsciousness deadened the driving pain in his chest was that Lexie was here. Dammit, someone was going to pay through his ass for disobeying his orders.

Chapter 33

Lexie rushed to his side, her heart in her throat. She cried out, “Help me! Help me get him down. Oh, God. Please, somebody help me!”

“I’ve got, him, Lexie. Stand back, honey, let me get him on the floor.”

Lexie watched in horror as Clint lowered Jake to the ground. Jerking off his jacket, Clint pressed it against the blood pouring out of the wound on Jake’s chest.

Terrified, Lexie fought against Brady’s arms pulling her back, out of the way of the two young men in uniform who knelt down beside Jake’s unmoving body. His skin was deathly pale.

The first man jerked back his stethoscope and said. “It got his lung.”

“No, God, no!” Lexie shrieked.

To her horror, the second young man opened his case and took out a tube like instrument with a sharp blade on the end. Drawing back his hand, he stabbed the blade into Jake’s chest.

Knowing that he was lying, she gave into the dark waters that swallowed her up drowning out everything except the knowledge that first Anthony and now Jake was dead.

~~~

“Lexie, please, drink this. C’mon, hotshot, you need to drink something.” Brady added, “Please, Lexie, at least let me help you wash off this blood.” His voice was pained, “Honey, you’ve got Jake’s blood all over your shirt.”

She shoved Brady’s hand away and continued to stare at the floor. She’d counted all the holes in the acoustical ceiling tiles and was working on the brown spots in the linoleum. It was an old trick she’d learned years ago when the present was too horrifying to bear and she couldn’t physically escape.

Brady’s voice cut through her focused task.

“Lexie, it’s the surgeon.”

She looked up to see the stern man in a knee length white coat standing in front of them. Several other men and one woman in similar garb crowded behind him.

Her chest clenched. Brady grabbed one of her arms in a tight grip, Clint took hold of the other. The three of them rose to their feet.

“I’m Dr. Simpson. You are?”

Brady spoke, “Lt. Colonel Schaefer, Major Morrison, Alexis Beloi, Sgt. Anthony Beloi’s sister.”

The grim grey haired surgeon didn’t waste words. “Folks, I’m not going to sugar coat it. Colonel Gardner is in critical condition. But he is alive. It was touch and go for much of the surgery. At one point, we lost him, but he battled back. He’s as strong a man as I’ve seen. The bullet missed his aorta by less than an inch. It’s a hell of good thing that his assailant missed his mark. With a better aim, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He peered at Lexie. “I understand it was your knife that brought down the guy who shot him. You saved Col. Gardner’s life, Miss Beloi.”

~~~

Three days later, Lexie rested her head on the bed, her hand on his thigh. She hadn’t left his side since they’d moved him from intensive care. To rest his heart, the doctors had put him in a drug induced coma. They’d stopped the drugs several hours ago and expected him to wake up at any moment. According to the surgeons, once he woke, it would be just a matter of time until he was sitting up in bed and even walking with help.

Looking at the pale man lying in the narrow bed, Lexie marveled that he was still beautiful. His three day beard growth highlighted the pallor of his skin, but made him look more gruffly potent, if possible. Even swathed in bulky bandages, with tubes in his chest, IV’s strung to his arm, and sensors attached to every part of his body, he was still powerful, powerful enough to survive an assault that would have been fatal to anyone without his reserves.

The clicks and suction sounds from the various machines underscored the monotonous beeps confirming that his heart was beating strong.

Knowing that he would be awake at any time, Lexie strengthened her resolve. For seventy-two hours, she’d sat by his bedside, leaving only to go to the bathroom. She couldn’t remember the last thing that she ate. She didn’t change out of her blood stained clothes until the doctors confirmed that there was a one hundred percent chance that he would recover.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, she was shocked at her appearance. Her hair fastened in a tight ponytail hung limply down her back. Her eyes took up a third of her face and threatened to take over the rest. The deep hollows in her cheeks put her high cheekbones in sharp relief and accentuated her pallor. If she’d had any pride left, her appearance would have cinched her resolve. But that wasn’t necessary. She knew what she had to do. Now.

What few minutes of sleep her exhausted body grabbed over the last three days were shattered by the ghastly dreams. The images were always the same. Anthony’s tortured corpse flared up in all its hideousness, only to morph into Jake’s blood stained body. The images swirled together until they completed one gruesome whole. When she could no longer tell them apart, she woke with tears streaming down her face soundlessly sobbing into the pillow by his head.

She’d stopped examining her decision. No longer listened to the fierce woman inside her begging her not to be a coward, to be brave, strong. But she’d made up her mind. She couldn’t live with the terror of knowing that at any minute he could lose him. She’d rather live her life numb than face the pain of losing him. For that reason, she had to go.

Brady met her at the door, his eyes dancing with excitement. He grabbed her and whirled her around in a dizzyingly circle.

“I just got the news, hotshot! They said Jake’s gonna wake up any minute. Clint’s on his way and, hell, even Chief Burton is hauling his ass over here to celebrate.’’

As though seeing her face for the first time, Brady grimaced.

“Never thought I’d say this, hotshot, but you look like hell. How about I commandeer one of the staff showers and you go do those things that women do when they say they’ll just take a minute to freshen up.”

Lexie gave him a wan smile.

“I…I can’t Brady. I’m leaving. Take care of him, please.”

Brady reared back, shocked. “What the hell are you talking about, Lexie? What do you mean you’re leaving? Goddammit, Lexie, he’s going to wake up at any minute and the first thing he’s going to ask for is you!”

“I…I know.” She handed Brady a note. “When he does, give him this.”

Ignoring the horror on Brady’s face, she added, “And please, Brady, tell him how much I love him.”

Chapter 34

Master Wan refused to let her practice in the dojo until she started eating. She was shocked at how weak she was. But as she forced herself to eat, little by little she began to regain her strength. By the second week that she was home, she was physically healed, although she still hadn’t regained the ten pounds she’d lost.

The first three days, Brady left three or four messages a day. She deleted them without listening to them. On the fourth day, the message came from Jake’s telephone number. She tried, but couldn’t force herself to delete it. She couldn’t listen to it, either. The next day, a beautiful orchid arrived. She insisted that Madam Juen keep it. The following day, a bunch of pink tulips were delivered to her door. She sent them home with Marybel.

To the delight of her students, each day a messenger arrived at the studio with a gift. Some days it was flowers, other days a note. Several times there was a box. She gave the flowers to the students, but didn’t open any of the boxes or the notes. She knew if she did, she’d lose her resolve. He’d overpower her, shake her resolution. She vowed not to let that happen.

Ignoring the disapproving looks from Madam Juen and the tittering from her students that quickly stopped when she entered the studio, Lexie threw herself into planning the Strong Women Survive celebration. She was determined to present the celebration that was cancelled the day Anthony died. Her students were thrilled. Each day, they came to practice surprising her and surprising themselves with their dedication.

Each night, when all the students were gone, Lexie fled to the studio and immersed herself in hours of long practice. Many times, she didn’t leave until dawn, glad that she could skip the pretense of sleep. The night before the celebration, four weeks after she left Yuma, Master Wan met her in the empty dojo. Before she could begin her practice, he motioned her to sit. He sunk to the floor in front of her.