Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1) (54 page)

Layla appeared to be just as torn as he was, because she kept staring at Jack, studying his eyes as if they could reveal the truth. “I don’t believe you,” she repeated.

Jack held her intent gaze for a few more seconds, then dropped his arm. “All right. Then I guess Iʼll just have to prove it to you.” Ignoring her dumbfounded expression, he turned around and started walking toward Brent.

He pointed his gun straight at his chest. “Stop right now. Dammit, Jack, donʼt make me shoot you!”

“Do that, and Layla will shoot you right back. Right, babe?” Jack flashed an adoring look at Layla from over his shoulder. When she nodded like a puppet on a string, he turned back to Brent and extended a hand to him. “Just give me your gun, man. Don’t be stupid.”

Brent hesitated, his mind scrambling for possibilities. What if he was wrong? What if Jack was not bluffing? After all, he had already admitted heʼd lied for months about getting his memory back and about learning the truth about Layla from Charlene. But damn, even as he thought that, he couldnʼt bring his heart to believe it. Jack
had
to be bluffing. There was no way he would do that to him. And especially not to Sara.

“You’re never gonna get away with this,” he grunted with feigned disgust, finally handing him the gun.

Jack took it with a cold laugh. “That’s my problem, Hayden. Now shut up and get on your knees.”

When he obeyed, Jack removed the handcuffs from his waistband and latched one onto Brent’s wrist. Its metallic click resounded through the cornfield like a bomb. “Fuck, Iʼve always dreamed of doing this to a damn cop for a change,” Jack murmured with a cynical grin.

Brent winced. For a long, terrible moment, he thought again that heʼd read his friend all wrong. Only when Jack snapped the other end of the handcuffs shut did it hit him that this time he hadn’t locked it around his wrist. His heart nearly shot out of his chest at the realization that he was free, then again as he felt the cold metal of his gun pressing against his palm. Grabbing the gun with gratitude, he remained kneeled on the ground with both hands behind his back, pretending to be completely restrained as Jack stood back up.

His voice was low and deep as he walked toward Layla. “There. Now the two of us can talk in peace.”

The woman stared at him in silence, in awe of what he had just done. “Jack, I—” she started, but her words were drowned by the loud sound of a helicopter approaching.

“Dallas Police. Drop your guns and raise your arms,” a firm voice shouted through the speaker.

Layla shot Jack a frantic look, but her expression became harder than stone as her gaze shifted to a spot behind him. Jack instinctively turned his head to see what had caught her attention, and thatʼs when he noticed Nicky carefully threading her way through the corn.

Before even thinking, he lunged toward her at the same time as Layla raised her arm and fired her gun.

Brent sprang to his feet at the sound of the gunshot. His eyes filled with tears as he tried to focus them in the darkness, but he knew what he had to do. Pointing his weapon at Layla, he took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times… Until she staggered back and fell to the ground like a chopped tree.

Nicky stilled, staring in shock as the helicopter landed in the cornfield, bending the long stalks madly in its wake. She only jolted out of her stupor when Brent ran to her and squeezed her in a choking hug. “Oh, my God, Nicky! Are you all right?” he shouted above the deafening sound of the helicopter blades.

“I’m fine,” she shouted back. “I have no idea how it happened, but somehow the bullet missed me. Have you seen Jack? He was right here and…” She broke off in mid-sentence, her gasp echoing Brentʼs as their thoughts followed the same course.

Jack.

Jack had been standing right in front of Nicky…right between her and Layla’s gun!

Brent barely noticed the police officers pouring out of the helicopter as he ran frantically toward the last spot he’d seen his friend. His heart almost stopped beating at the sight of Jack lying still on the ground—a large, dark-red bloodstain spreading rapidly across the front of his shirt…

Epilogue

Sara squeezed the bouquet in her hands and buried her face in its delicate white blossoms, inhaling deeply.

“Happy birthday,” she muttered, laying it on the elegant marble tombstone in front of her. She closed her eyes to push back the tears that, as always, tried to break through at the thought of all that could have been and never would. Wrapping her arms around her large belly, she tilted her head back and let the sun warm her face and her chilled soul on this cold February morning.

Three months after the horrible night at the Haydensʼ, she still shuddered at the memory of it. Everything had happened so fast after she’d managed to escape from Layla and run into Jack in the maze. It’d been all she could do not to follow him after he’d kissed her and left her to go help Brent, yet she’d kept her word and run back to the ranch instead. Nicky had been on the phone with the police when she’d gotten there, and Sara had tried her best not to panic as she explained everything that had happened.

The thought of their baby was the only thing that had kept her sanity as she’d waited impotently for news, her gaze glued to the distant maze. Had Brentʼs parents not held her back, she would have broken her promise to Jack when a police helicopter had seemed to appear out of nowhere and started circling the maze. Her heart had just about stopped when a series of gunshots had echoed in the air, but then Nicky and Brent had come out of the field, followed by a few other officers, two of them carrying a stretcher covered with a dark tarpaulin. Saraʼs body was wracked with nausea at the sight of it, and she would have fainted if Nicky hadn’t rushed to her side.

Layla was dead, sheʼd explained, but Jack had been shot and needed urgent transportation to the hospital. Sara had barely heard the rest of her words as the paramedics had carried another stretcher out of the field and sheʼd caught sight of Jack lying on it, hooked to a respirator—the image of his motionless, blood-covered body forever embedded in her mind.

Another shudder passed through her at the memory, and she clutched her coat closer to her body.

“Are you all right?”

She forced a nod as a gentle arm slid around her waist. She leaned into it, eager for the emotional support, and smoothed her hands over her belly. Another two months and her baby would finally be in her arms, she reminded herself. He was the future. A beautiful, wonderful future. The past was really in the past now. As she gave one last look at the white tombstone, this time she even managed a half smile.
Thank you
, she said silently, then turned around.

“Do you think J.T. would be happy to know that weʼre restoring the ranch and will move there soon? And that we’re going to name our son after him?”

Jack smiled at her question, a smile so bright and warm that all the coldness inside seemed to magically disappear. “Are you kidding me? This is the best birthday gift we could ever have given him! Wherever he is right now, I bet he’s ecstatic and incredibly proud of us, Mrs. Turner.”

Mrs. Turner.
As always, Saraʼs heart flip-flopped happily at those two little words. She and Jack had been married for over two months now, yet it still felt too good to be true. Everybody in town thought they were crazy for wanting to tie the knot so soon after that whole ordeal, especially since Jack had still been recovering from his gun wound. But they hadn’t listened to the naysayers. If there was one thing they had learned from the tribulations of the last few months, it was that life was too short and precious to waste a minute of it.

Saraʼs smile faded as her gaze fell on Jackʼs left arm, still hanging in a sling around his neck. It had taken him three months of intense physical therapy to regain mobility in his wounded shoulder, and he was still a long way from full recovery, but Sara counted their blessings every day. She knew they were extremely lucky. She couldn’t even imagine what could have happened if, instead of hitting his shoulder, Laylaʼs bullet had gone just a few inches lower. Just thinking about it made her slide her arms around Jackʼs waist and press her cheek against his precious, hard-beating heart.

“Whatʼs that for?”

At his amused question, she raised her head to look at him. “I was just thinking. Do you realize that, since I met you, Iʼve never seen you without some kind of cuts and bruises?”

Jack gave her a smug grin. “Well, then you better get ready for it, because as soon as this thing comes off,” he said, pointing at the sling, “I fully intend to lead the most uneventful, monotonous, boring life ever.”

“Hmm. That sounds heavenly.” Sara slid her arms around his neck and pressed against him, but Jack pulled away slightly, a teasing light in his eyes.

“Wait. Are you saying youʼd be okay with us living a boring life? Youʼre not going to find yourself another suspected murderer to inspire your next book?”

“God no, Iʼm done with that. I’ve had enough of mysteries, thank you very much.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Smirking, she wrapped a hand around his nape and pulled his head down to kiss him. “But I do have plenty of ideas for a perfect romance novel...”

Thank you for reading
Bound to The Past
!

If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review ―Authors love hearing from their readers!

For updates on the
Starville Series
, please visit my website,
www.laurynmichaels.com
, or follow me on
Facebook
,
Amazon
,
Goodreads
, and
Twitter
.

My Email: 
[email protected]

Excerpt from “Through the Rise & the Fall” (Book #2 of the Starville Series)

Graceʼs hands trembled as they picked up an envelope from her desk and started opening it carefully. She knew what would be written on the card it contained even before she unfolded it, yet she couldnʼt help wincing when the large words printed in black ink appeared before her eyes.
Are you ready to die?

She put down the card with a hard swallow and lowered her eyes to the small box sitting on her desk. The chopped head of what must have been a beautiful red rose rested inside it. At least, she assumed it was a red rose, though right now it was so rotten that it was impossible to tell.

Grace closed the box with a ragged sigh and slid it carefully inside a Ziploc bag, along with the envelope and the card it came with. Only then did she remove the latex gloves she had been wearing. She knew the drill; the Philadelphia Police had provided her with detailed instructions on how to handle these
gifts
that she kept receiving, so that she wouldnʼt contaminate them with her own fingerprints before she passed them on to the Department for examination. This was the fifth rose she had received so far—one for each of the last five weeks. They were delivered to her office every Friday morning, like clockwork.

Folding her arms over her chest, as if to infuse some warmth to her chilled bones, Grace walked up to the window. Her gaze fixed absently upon the Philadelphia skyline in front of her, she wondered who might loathe her so much as to send her those horrible packages. Sure, as the CEO of her familyʼs multi-million dollar corporation, she may have stepped on the wrong toes quite a few times. However, she had a hard time envisioning any of her business rivals stoop to such a low level.

With another sigh, she walked back to her desk, sank down into her black-leather chair, and picked up the phone. It had barely rung once when a deep male voice came on the other end of the line. “Good morning, beautiful.”

She tried hard to find her voice to reply, but all came out of her mouth was a broken sob. “Lawrence.”

A muffled curse resounded through the phone, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “You got another one, didnʼt you?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Same creepy rose bud?”

“Yes.”

“What does the card say this time?”

“Pretty much the same as always. Actually, it went from ‘
You are going to die
ʼ to ‘
Are you ready to die?
’ Nice touch, huh?” Grace tried to joke, but her words came across shakier than she hoped.

Lawrence cursed again. “Iʼm sorry, honey. Did you contact the police, yet?”

“Iʼm about to—although I don’t even know why Iʼm bothering, since they havenʼt been able to help at all, so far.”

“Donʼt say that. Whoever this freak is, heʼs going to slip up and make a mistake, sooner or later. And, when he does, weʼll be right there to catch him.”

“I guess.” She heaved a long sigh. “Thank you, Lawrence.”

A long, awkward silence followed. “Grace, maybe we should break our engagement.”

“What?” Grace gasped so hard her breath echoed through the phone. “Lawrence, no! You know this has nothing to do with our engagement!”

“Really?” He scoffed. “Honey, you know as well as I do that this crap started right after I announced my candidacy for Senate.”

“So?”

“So, I believe the reason you are being this psychoʼs target is because he wants to get to
me
!”

“Whatever.” Grace waved a hand in the air, as though to swat away his words. “You donʼt know that, it might be someone I pissed off, or just a crazy creep who saw me on TV.”

“And why were you on TV?”

“Because…Iʼm engaged to you,” she admitted reluctantly. “But I donʼt care. This freak is not going to make me change my mind about our engagement. We have an agreement, and Iʼm not going to break it. Period,” she added, as Lawrence started to protest.

“Youʼre really set on this, arenʼt you?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” he finally conceded with a deep breath. “Then youʼre going to have to leave.”

Grace frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I want you to leave Philadelphia and go on vacation. A
long
vacation.”