Authors: Jennifer Ryan
He pulled out the butterfly knife and clamped his hand to her throat. He got right in her face, so she’d know he wasn’t to be messed with. He was in charge. “They pretended and lied. Not you. You see the real me. No one else has ever seen me like you can.”
Choking, the blade of the knife dug into her cheek. So sharp, it cut her skin and a drop of blood trickled down her face.
He saw the blood and pulled the knife away, but kept his hold on her throat. “See what you made me do?”
“I know everything you’ve done. I know what’s going to happen next.”
“Tell me! Tell me my fortune, angel.”
“You want to know your future?”
“Yes, tell me. Tell me my future,” he pleaded, excited like a child begging for a treat.
“You don’t have one.” She managed a small smile.
He squeezed tighter around her throat and watched her gasp for breath. He liked this part the best, holding someone’s life in his hands. “What do you mean, I don’t have a future?” He shook her hard and listened to her gasp and squeal in pain.
His grip weakened, allowing her to take a gasping breath. Tyler came into the light behind them and answered for her.
“Your future is in an eight-by-ten cell. FBI. Drop the knife and step away from her.” He held his gun trained on the man’s back. He tried not to look at Morgan. She’d distract him and he’d make a mistake. He couldn’t make a mistake. Not with her life on the line.
Now he knew how Sam felt seeing the woman he loved in the hands of a madman and his own gun trained on both of them. Not a good feeling, and the thought of shooting Morgan made him sick. Just the sight of her made him hurt. Everything in him demanded he end this and get her to a hospital.
“I mean it. Let her go.”
He had her, and he refused to give her up. He turned to face the agent and kept Morgan in front of him. His grasp tightened when he saw the man who’d carried her from the police station and taken her to the ship.
“Ah, so the boyfriend has come to get her,” he said mockingly. “Well, you can’t have her. She was sent to me. She’s my angel!”
A blond agent stepped into the light, his gun trained on his head. Another moved in. No telling how many others were hiding in the shadows. He only knew he had her, and they wanted to take her away. He wouldn’t let them. She belonged to him. If he couldn’t have her, then he’d kill her.
He pulled her close. “You see me. You were supposed to see only for me. You’re mine. You were sent to me,” he said, his lips pressed to her cheek, his voice a whine of desperation and rage.
“I do see you, but I’m no angel. I’m a witch, and I belong to him.” She tilted her head toward Tyler.
Tyler’s heart ached at her words. He felt the wave of her love behind those words hit him. She belonged to him. And then, he heard her.
I love you
.
Her face stung when he slapped her again and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re mine,” he screamed into her face.
The combination of anger from being slapped, yet again, and his hold on her shoulder unleashed something inside her. He shook her, and the searing pain that flashed through her body combined with her anger. Like a shock wave from an explosion, she let it fly, pushing him away.
The burst of energy came from her, throwing her to the ground and the man stumbling back. Astonished, Tyler had never seen or felt anything like it, and probably never would again. The wave of energy passed over them, putting them off balance too. When the man raised his knife to try to kill Morgan, he and Sam fired. Two rounds to the chest exploded into a blossom of blood as he fell backward.
Agents and police swooped in from the shadows. All of them with their weapons trained on the man lying dead on the floor. Tyler and Sam rushed to Morgan.
“I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“It was like some kind of shock wave coming from her.”
“How did she do that?”
The words and the voices swirled around Tyler, but he only heard the silence coming from Morgan.
“She’s not breathing. Sam, get the medics.”
He put his ear to her chest and listened for a heartbeat. Nothing. He cupped her bruised and swollen face in his hands and looked at her half-closed eyes. The blue went dark as the deepest ocean.
“No! Come on, baby. Don’t you die on me.” He gave her CPR and pounded on her chest. “Breathe, honey. Come on, breathe.”
He gave her a breath, and then another and another. He pumped her heart and continued to breathe for her. If she couldn’t do it on her own, he’d do it for her. For as long as it took, he’d do it for her.
“Come back to me, honey. Please. Come back!”
T
HAT NIGHT BECAME
the nightmare that haunted Tyler’s every waking moment. Since he’d barely slept in five days, it was a constant agony.
He didn’t remember everything once he and Sam shot M. Tall to death. He remembered Morgan lying beneath his hands as he pumped her heart and gave her air. Snapshots in his mind of police and FBI agents swarming everywhere, flashbulbs going off as they collected evidence, people talking and yelling orders.
He begged Morgan to come back to him.
He remembered Sam pulling him away, so the medics could get her into the ambulance and to the hospital. Sam drove and he stared at the back of the ambulance in front of them. She was in there, and he wanted to be with her. He wanted her to know how much he wanted her back. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t be dead.
After that, his days became a waiting game. He’d waited outside the emergency room while they worked to get her back. He’d waited outside of surgery while they put her shoulder back in the socket and repaired torn ligaments and damaged tissue and muscles. They bound up her bruised and cracked ribs. They cleaned up all the cuts and scratches on her arms and torso from being dragged. Through it all, he didn’t feel anything. He couldn’t feel his own feelings, or hers. He wished, he prayed for her to share her pain with him again. Day after day, he waited, and nothing but the blip of her monitor slowly counting off the beats of her heart—that stopped more than once—entered his consciousness.
He sat beside her bed minute after minute, hour after hour, never leaving her side for more than a few minutes. He couldn’t leave her.
Everyone in the family had come to see her at one time or another. Jenna, Elizabeth, and Marti wielded their collective power and made sure the rooms around Morgan were empty. The nurses and doctors kept their visits to a minimum. Everyone in the family understood Morgan’s need to be isolated from the emotions of others, especially in her fragile state.
Five days, that’s how long he’d been sitting by her bed, praying, begging, and slowly going crazy. He held her hand, brushed her hair, washed her, and he loved her. Most of all he loved her. She didn’t move unless he moved her. Fed by an IV and constantly monitored. They’d tested her brain and confirmed his fears: she remained in a deep coma with very little brain activity. They didn’t think she’d come out of it. He refused to listen to any of them. They didn’t know Morgan and her exceptional abilities.
She breathed on her own now, and her heart rate remained steady. She just needed time. Hadn’t she blacked out for almost a day after the incident in the restaurant? Well, this time had been more intense.
The family’s hopefulness for him and Morgan helped to keep him sane. None of them believed she wouldn’t come back. They all knew she would.
“How is she today?” Marti asked.
He hadn’t heard them come in. He’d been watching Morgan’s face. He thought she might look a little less pale today. Maybe. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part.
He glanced at Marti holding her new baby, sitting in the wheelchair Cameron pushed in. One of the only times he’d left Morgan for any length of time, he’d gone downstairs the other day to see Marti after she delivered a very healthy baby girl.
“She’s the same.” He tried to smile at his friends, but it fell short. Cameron held Emma in his arms and stood beside his wife. They made a nice picture, a new mother, a father, a young daughter, and the baby. He wanted that for him and Morgan.
“Oh, I don’t know. She looks a little less pale today. Have you eaten?”
“When?” he asked, because he couldn’t remember. He didn’t care. Morgan hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t done anything for days. What he wouldn’t give to see her eat. He remembered sharing chips and guacamole while they talked. She’d shared his iced tea.
“Well, if you can’t remember, buddy, it’s about time you did.” Cameron hated seeing his friend like this. He understood though. He didn’t know what he’d do if it were Marti lying in that bed, so still and pale.
The door opened and the rest of the family came in. Elizabeth, beautiful in her pregnancy. Sam holding Grace. Jack and Jenna with their boys and little Willow. Jack carried in a cooler, and Jenna and Elizabeth held bakery boxes from Decadence.
“We thought you could use a family brunch,” Elizabeth said.
“Brunch,” he said, confused.
“It’s Sunday,” Sam said. “The women said we’re having brunch. Do what they say. Besides, you aren’t going to turn down my wife’s cooking, are you?”
Tyler’s brain slowly started working. “Um, no. I guess it’s all right.”
“Sure it is,” Jenna said. “Morgan would love a Sunday brunch with the family. We’ll have a nice meal and some good conversation. Our collective happiness will help her feel better.”
Jenna had a plan. She always did. She was right. Having everyone together would make Morgan happy.
Cameron set Emma beside Morgan on the blanket. “Why will happiness make her feel better?” Emma wanted to know.
Tyler answered. “Because she’s special. Good feelings in others make her feel good. Bad feelings make her feel bad.”
“Is that what happened? The bad man made her feel bad.”
“She used her special gift to find the bad man. That left her feeling very tired. And then, yes, his bad feelings and her injuries made her not feel good. We’re just waiting for her to feel better.”
Tyler brushed his hand down Morgan’s hair. His need to touch her grew more and more the longer she stayed away.
Marti stood up from her wheelchair and laid the baby down in the crook of Morgan’s good arm. Her other arm lay across her belly in a sling. Tyler didn’t stop holding her hand, even when she put the baby in Morgan’s arm.
“What are you doing? She can’t hold onto the baby,” Tyler said, worried.
“It’s fine. The baby is sound asleep and won’t move much. If Morgan needs happiness, there’s nothing more content than a sleeping baby. And nothing makes a woman happier than having a brand-new baby in her arms.”
Elizabeth and Jenna agreed and looked over Tyler at the sleeping beauty.
Emma didn’t look very happy.
“What’s the matter, Em? You don’t want the baby with Morgan?” Tyler asked.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what?” He hated to see her upset. Everyone in the room watched her as she studied Morgan’s face.
“She’s not a witch after all,” she said sadly. “I liked the idea of knowing a witch.”
“What do you mean? We know she isn’t a witch. She’s special.”
“She’s not a witch,” she said excitedly. “She’s something else even better. She’s a fairy.”
That got Sam’s attention. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“She’s a fairy. Like in the movie with Tinker Bell. If you’re mean to her and say you don’t believe, you kill the fairy. If you believe in fairies, then the fairy lives. They have to have happy thoughts in order to fly. She’s a fairy.”
“Oh, my God,” Sam said and looked around the room. They’d all shared a collective laugh over the fact that they’d all brought Morgan lilies for her room. All the women had said they were happy flowers and they smelled good. Jenna brought her favorite: Stargazers, like the name of Jack’s ranch.
“Jack, do you remember when we went to see Morgan at her house?” Sam asked. “She teased me about fairies in her garden.”
Jack smiled. “I remember it well. One of the few times I’ve seen you nervous. You were disappointed she didn’t have a cauldron, or a crystal ball.”
“That’s because she’s a fairy,” Emma said emphatically.
“You’re right, Emma.” Sam said. “She told us the fairies lived in the lilies.” He waited a second while everyone noticed the flowers around the room. “She also said fairies are like little balls of golden sunlight. They die if you say you don’t believe in them, and when they think happy thoughts, they can fly. Just like you said, sweetheart. She described herself.”
Emma smiled at Morgan. “She does look golden with all this pretty hair.” Emma ran her fingers through the soft silky strands.
Smart girl.
Tyler about jumped out of his seat. Everyone noticed his abrupt jerk.
“Morgan? Honey, talk to me again.”
Pretty baby.
“Yes, honey. She is. Wake up and look at her.”
Elizabeth couldn’t take it. Tyler could hear her, and they all wanted in on it. “What did she say?”
Tyler kissed the top of Emma’s head and leaned over Morgan. “She said, ‘Smart girl.’” He looked at Marti. “Then she said, ‘Pretty baby.’”
Marti smiled. “See. Every woman loves a newborn baby.”
“Say something else, honey. Talk to me.” He could barely feel her.
Love. You
. She said it haltingly. She couldn’t hold on to the connection anymore and slipped back into the empty space.
“Oh, honey. I love you, too. Come back. Don’t go.” He felt her slip away again. She’d come back. She just needed time. He’d had her for a minute. She’d fight her way back to him again. He kissed her on the lips softly and laid his forehead to hers. “Please, honey. Come back.”
Everyone in the room got busy getting the food out and feeding the kids and themselves. Elizabeth went to Tyler. They’d been friends for a long time now, and they had a special bond, like Sam and Jenna shared.
She put her hands on Tyler’s shoulders and pulled him back from Morgan. He turned to face her and she wiped away the single tear that rolled down his cheek. “She will, Tyler. She’s coming back. Give her time.” She hugged him, and after a moment he hugged her back.