Grounded (39 page)

She gasped suddenly, her breathing changing, as though she was moving.
 
Panic had me firmly in its grasp and I had to just listen futilely as two more shots sounded in the background.
 
Two ragged sobs escaped her throat as though torn from her.
 

No, no, no
, I thought.

“I love you, James,” she told me, her voice so steady now.
 
Somehow, that terrified me more than anything else had.
 
“So much.
 
I’m so sorry.”

I was yelling at her in a broken shout as she hung up on me.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Mr. Desolate

JAMES

I could have wished that the twenty minute drive was just a blur for me, but of course it wasn’t.
 
It was the longest drive of my life.
 
I died a million little deaths on that drive, my mind going to the darkest places.
 

I even found myself cursing God, when I’d always been the most agnostic soul.
 
Why did he hate me so much?
I wondered angrily.
 
First he took my parents, who I’d adored, and now I’d found a home and a family again, one that I coveted and worshipped with a single-minded purpose.
 
I couldn’t bear the thought that I would lose her just when I’d found her.
 
I rejected the thought.
 
This couldn’t be happening.
 
If her father had attacked her, surely the security had subdued him before he could have touched her.
 
There was no acceptable alternative.

I watched the clock on the dash for the entire drive.
 
Clark ran red lights, weaved through traffic, and drove like his life depended on it.
 
He made good time, and we were pulling into her neighborhood less than fifteen minutes after we’d gotten into the car.

I was jumping out of the car before it had stopped, rushing to the front door.
 
It was locked, and I cursed as I dug out my keys.
 
Absently I noted that Clark took another route, jumping the fence into the backyard while I entered the house.
 
It was where she’d been when I’d been talking to her, so I looked inside first.
 

The first few rooms were empty, and I heard sirens drawing close as I scanned the kitchen.
   

Clark was standing in front of the back door that led into the yard from the bedroom when I stepped inside.
 
My gut clenched, nearly doubling me over.
 
The back door had been open…
   

I rushed forward, but Clark moved to stop me.
 
He caught me before I reached the door.
 

I fought him in earnest.
 
There were no seconds to waste.
 

“Please, James,” he said in a soft voice I barely recognized as coming out of him.
 
“You don’t want to see what’s back there.
 
No one should have to see that.
 
The paramedics are here.
 
Let’s let them in to do their jobs.”

I heard a horrible whimper of a noise as though from a distance, barely noting that it had escaped from my own throat.

He would only say a thing like that if there was nothing to be done, and clearly Bianca was not in the house.
 

“Is she back there?” I asked him, my voice breaking on the words.
 
It felt like every part of me was breaking.

He nodded, and a tear ran down his cheek.
 
“You can’t do anything for her, James, but you can save yourself the pain of seeing her like that.”

Of course, I couldn’t stay away.
 
I refused to accept what his words implied, even as I felt my own face growing wet with tears.
 

“Let me by,” I told him, a quaver in my voice.
 
“I have to be with her.”

He bowed his head and let me pass, seeing my resolve.
 

The sight that greeted me literally brought me to my knees.
 

There hadn’t been a second since I’d met her that I felt as though I’d taken her for granted.
 
I’d loved her, I’d treasured her, I’d coveted her, and adored every inch of her, but it still didn’t feel like it had been enough.
 
I’d misstepped with her, I’d screwed up plenty, but we’d been working through it all.
 
Life could have been perfect.
 
All we’d needed was more time…

I crawled to her, only distantly noting that hers was not the only body lying in the small backyard.
 

She was on her back, her head turned sharply to the side, obscuring one side of her face.
 
What was showing of her face was strangely intact, almost peaceful.
 
Her hair was spread around her, the pale blonde strands now wet and dyed red with blood.
 
I tried to tell myself that she might be fine, that she
could
survive this, but I could see clearly from where the blood pooled that it must be a head wound.
 

Raw sounds of anguish tore out of me with every movement as I made my way to her.
 

Lightly, carefully, as though she were made of glass, I held her hand and sobbed.
 
I wouldn’t survive this.
 
I didn’t
want
to survive this.
 
There was nothing in the world that I wanted to live for after enduring this.
 

For the first time in my life, I began to pray.
 
For her life or my death, I didn’t know.
 
I would have taken either just then.

I didn’t even look up as the paramedics arrived in force.
 
I only noticed the body that had been lying beside hers as it was shifted away.
 
Apparently, the paramedics weren’t going to try to help that one, since it was missing a head.
 
Its massive torso was riddled with holes, and I perceived that it had been her father.
 
His death gave me no satisfaction.
 
It wasn’t enough, and certainly, he hadn’t died in time to spare her.
 

How had it come to this?
I wondered wretchedly.
 

My vision was blurred and I just couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything but that hand.
 
It was limp in mine, but unscathed, and if I looked up, I knew there was a good chance I’d find answers that I wasn’t willing to accept.
 
Somehow, uncertainty was something to cling to when the worst-case scenario was so much more likely than the alternative.
 

A paramedic was crouched on the other side of her, but I couldn’t look directly at him, couldn’t let myself see what he found as he swiftly checked her vitals.

The paramedic called out loudly.
 
I didn’t catch what he said.
 
My mind wasn’t processing words just then.
 
I was still focused with a single-minded purpose on that lovely hand.
 
There was no telling how long I crouched there, motionless with dread, trying to prolong the moments, telling myself she would be fine, but filled with a stark desolation that made it hard to even breathe.

The paramedic said something else, and I didn’t realize that he was speaking to me until someone nudged me rather impatiently from behind.
 
I blinked at the man, not really seeing him as I tried to hear what he was saying.

“Please move, sir.
 
We need to get her on a stretcher.
 
You’re in the way.”

I moved automatically, so unused to being told what to do that I obeyed instinctively, knowing that no one would dare give me an order if it wasn’t important.

I only shifted back the slightest amount, but a stretcher was being pushed persistently against me until I backed away far enough to give them room to work.

I pushed back with desperation when I realized that they were going to put her on the stretcher.
 

I won’t let them take her away from me,
I thought.
 
I’ll die before I let them put her in a bag
.

Big arms circled me from behind, pulling me back.
 
“Let them work, James,” Tristan said gently into my ear.
 
I hadn’t even realized that he’d followed us here.
 

“Sir, every second you delay us could be crucial to her survival,” the other paramedic said, clear impatience in his tone.

I let Tristan pull me back as I tried to process those words.
 

Survival
, he’d said, as though she had a chance.
 
They weren’t putting her in a bag; they were staunching the flow of blood from the side of her head and moving her.
 

He’d said survival
, I thought again.
 
They weren’t taking her away because she was dead.
 
They thought they could help her.
 

I hovered close, my thoughts becoming slowly more coherent as I began to realize that she wasn’t dead, and
God willing
, she might survive.
 
With desperation, I began to let myself hope, every inch of me trembling.

I gave them room to work, but I hovered as close as possible, desperate to see what they would do, fearing that if I so much as glanced away from her I might lose her.
 

I was moving around her, trying to get closer to her without getting in the way, and so I saw when the first paramedic shifted her head enough to apply pressure to her wound.
 
I whimpered when I saw the bloody hole in the side of her face.
 
It was up near the spot where her jaw met her ear, or at least I thought that it was.
 
It was hard to tell with all of that blood.
 

I never took my eyes off her, and what they were doing to help her, but I began to hear the other sounds in the yard as still more paramedics arrived.
 
I heard another man sobbing.
 
It had been going on for a while, but I hadn’t really noticed it
—
I was making so much noise myself.
 

Javier,
I thought, dawning horror making me search him out.
 
He hovered over the fallen form of Stephan.
 
A paramedic was busy staunching the flow of blood from Stephan’s chest, prepping him to get on a stretcher, another man helping him.
 
No
, I thought,
please no
.
 
They both had to live.
 

I followed the stretcher closely as they moved her, and no one dared tell me not to.
 
I watched her chest as she breathed faintly on the long drive to the hospital.
 
It’s a miracle
, I thought.
 
He put that gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger, and if she survives it, I have witnessed a miracle.
 
I made crazy promises to God on that long drive, promises to give him my soul in exchange for that miracle.

I wasn’t myself as I followed her unconscious form inside the hospital.
 
I felt disconnected from reality as they worked on her.
 
I began to fight when they wouldn’t let me follow her into surgery.
 
Clark and Tristan had to snap me out of it.
 
It wasn’t until the world came back into focus that I realized that I had been in shock.
 

“James, you need to be
present
for this,” Tristan was telling me, his voice firm, his eyes steady.
 
“Your influence can help them.
 
I guarantee it.
 
You can’t follow her into surgery, but you can call in some favors.”
 

“Buy the fucking hospital if you want them to give Bianca, Stephan, and Blake their best chances,” Clark added.

The nurse was putting a blanket over my shoulders, saying soothing things, and shooting Tristan and Clark perplexed looks.
 
Tristan understood me well, though, and his tactic couldn’t have been more brilliant.
 
I didn’t have time to wallow in this, and certainly none to agonize about it.
 
What I needed was action.
 
The more the better.
 
There were things I could do to help.
   
 

“Get the board of directors and the head of the hospital on the phone,” I told Clark.
 
“If they ask what it concerns, tell them that someone is willing to donate an obscene amount of money for some special treatment.”

He nodded, and moved away, a small, satisfied smile gracing his mouth.
 
I remembered that he’d said Blake, as well.
 
I was relieved that she at least had a chance.
 
I also knew that the names he hadn’t mentioned were surely dead.
 
Paterson and Henry had fallen in their duty of protecting Bianca.
 
I made a note to pay out the families of both men.
 
It was the smallest consolation, but at least neither of them had left behind children, or wives.

My first call was to my offices in Vegas, and then New York
—
to my second-in-command.
 
I enlisted all of the help at my disposal to get the ball rolling faster.

CHAPTER FORTY

Mr. Helpless

BIANCA

I woke with a violent jerk, my thoughts going immediately to Stephan.
 
It was as though the sight of him lying there, lifeless, with bloody holes in his chest, had just been circling around in my head while I was out.
 
I remembered everything as though it had happened just instants before, though I knew very well that I was in a hospital by the familiar sounds and smells.
 

I turned my head sharply, seeking out James.
 
The short motion made my head ache and the side of my face burned sharply.

I felt my hand in his and knew that he’d stayed at my side for the ordeal.
 
I saw in his weary, grief-stricken face how it had cost him, what he’d been put through.
 

“Stephan?” was the first word out of my mouth.
 
It was agony to try to talk.
 
I had to speak through my teeth, since I could barely open my mouth.
 
I ignored the pain, focusing on James, desperate for an answer.
 

James raised his bloodshot, agonized eyes to mine.
 
Those turquoise depths had never looked so relieved.
 
He gasped in a breath, as though coming up for air.
 
He blinked at me several times before he found his voice.
 
“He’s recovering from surgery.”
 

I only heard his voice in one ear, and wondered vaguely if I’d lost the hearing in the other.
 
But that didn’t matter.
 
Nothing mattered to me but finding out about Stephan just then.

“How badly was he hurt?
 
Will he be okay?
 
I need to see him now,” I said, trying to sit up.
 

He paused for a long time to choose his words, and that scared me more than anything.
 
“He’s in the ICU.
 
He was badly hurt.
 
No one can see him
—
“

I pulled the IV from my arm, sitting up.
 
The pain in my head and ear temporarily darkened my vision and a dull roar started up in the ear that was working.
 
“I need to see him
now
.”

I didn’t realize what a commotion I’d caused until I’d been wrestled back into the bed, and saw the amount of people that had gathered to restrain me.
 

My eyes sought out James while a nurse shoved needles into my arm.
 
I felt terrible as I saw the tears running down his cheeks and the helpless look on his face.
 
“Please, James.
 
I have to see him.”

Finally he nodded.
 
“Please don’t do that again.
 
I’ll arrange for you to see him, but you must stay in your bed.”

I nodded, closing my eyes in relief.
 
He would do as he said.
 
He always had.

I didn’t sleep, but I didn’t open my eyes again until I felt my bed begin to move.
 
A team of nurses surrounded me, James at my right, clutching my hand as he followed beside the wheeled hospital bed.
 
“Who else made it?” I asked James, bracing myself for the answer.

“Blake was wounded badly, but they’re telling me now that she’ll make it.”

“So that means that…” I swallowed hard, finding it hard to finish the sentence.

“Paterson and Henry died before the paramedics could arrive.
 
Your…father did as well.”

I processed that, blinking away tears.
 
“You wouldn’t believe how many holes he had in his chest, and still he kept coming…”

“It was a bullet to the brain that ended him,” James told me.
 
“Stephan came to just long enough to take him out.
 
I owe him yet another debt that I can never repay.”
 

My chest burned and I shut my eyes, letting awful tears run down my cheeks.
 
Of course Stephan had survived long enough to save me.
 
My hero
.
 
I couldn’t lose him.
 
My eyes shot back open as a thought occurred.
 
“Did he see my father shoot me?”

“He must have.
 
They deduced that your father must have gotten off the shot just before Stephan fired.
 
They tell me your struggle is all that saved you.
 
He shot into your cheek.
 
There was damage, but he missed his target.”

I tried to touch the bandaged side of my face.
 
“How on earth?”

“You’ve lost significant hearing in that ear, and they had to do surgery on your jaw.
 
There will be scarring along your jaw and cheek, but we will make sure it’s minimized as much as possible.
 
You will have the best plastic surgeons in the world at your disposal.”

He continued to talk, but I barely even heard him, my mind still on Stephan.
 
I couldn’t care less about the scarring, my jaw, or even the loss of hearing.
 
I was alive.
 
The rest were details.
 

But Stephan…
 
Stephan had to live.
 
“How long was I out?”

“Four days.”

“Tell me about Stephan’s wounds.”

“Both bullets missed his heart, if only barely, but one punctured a lung, and he’s had some internal bleeding that has persisted.
 
The doctor who performed the surgery believes that it was a success, but he says that Stephan won’t be out of danger until his vitals stabilize.
 
It’s been very touch and go.
 
They tell me he’s improved, followed by a decline, but he’s getting the best care available, and he’s a healthy young man, so they say we can be hopeful, even though he’s not yet stabilized.”

“If I see him, if I speak to him, it will help,” I said, more hopeful than certain.
 
“If he knows I made it, he’ll pull through.
 
He would have been devastated if he watched my father shoot me.
 
This will help.”
 

My vision was completely blurred with tears as they rolled my bed beside Stephan’s.
 
They wheeled me as close as possible, my feet pointed in the direction of his headrest.
 
They were considerate enough to bring our unencumbered hands close.
 
Javier was on the other side of him, his head bent over his other IV covered hand.
 

I gripped his fingers in mine, squeezing.
 
“I made it, Stephan.
 
I’m fine.
 
You saved me again, but you need to wake up now.
 
You were hurt, but it’s nothing that you can’t survive.
 
Please,
wake up.”
 
I got louder as I spoke, my voice rough with emotion.
 

He didn’t so much as twitch.
 
I glanced at his heart rate monitor, but could make no sense of it.
 
I glanced at the closest nurse.
 
“Have his vitals improved?” I asked her.

She pursed her lips.
 
“They haven’t altered.”

They let me linger for a few more minutes, and I murmured soothingly to Stephan.
 
He never responded, never moved.
 
I hadn’t really thought he would, but I felt a crushing disappointment as they wheeled me away from him.
 
Some part of me had been arrogantly hoping that the sound of my voice, and the knowledge that I had survived, would be enough to rouse him.
 
He had been my last thought as I’d blacked out, and my first thought on waking.
 
Knowing him as I did, I had just assumed that seeing me fall had been like that for him.
 
Perhaps it really was beyond his control.
 
That thought defeated me more than anything.

I drifted off as they carted me back to my own room, and I knew by the floaty feeling that it was a drug induced sleep.
 

When I woke again, James was watching for it.
 
He was speaking to me the instant my eyes blinked open groggily.
 

“He’s improved.
 
Less than two hours after you spoke to him, he opened his eyes for the first time, and they tell me his vitals have finally begun to improve.
 
The doctor went so far as to say that there is a good chance that he will pull through.”

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Only four hours.
 
Stephan’s first word was your name.
 
He was just as frantic to see you, though he was in no condition to pull his own IV out.”

There was a reprimand in his voice, and I could hardly blame him.
 
I studied him, trying to see just how much he’d been damaged by it all, because I knew for a certainty that he had.

“You were right,” I told him, “I shouldn’t have gone back to the house.”
 
I’d been so sure he was just overreacting, but somehow his instincts had been dead on.
 
I’d never dreamed that my father could still get to me with so many people protecting me, but he had managed to beat all reasonable odds.
 
“Are you furious with me?”

His face went a little slack, as though the question had caught him completely off guard.
 
“The thought never even occurred.
 
There’s no room left in me for fury.
 
After thinking you were dead, then realizing that you would live, I’m only capable of relief.
 
We may have to start going to church now.”

“Church?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yes.
 
I prayed for a miracle, and you survived.”

I supposed that it was all rather miraculous, and I was more grateful for my life than I’d ever been after the ordeal, but I had more questions.
 
“Was my father on something?
 
He took so much damage, and still he kept coming.”
 
I spoke slowly and carefully.
 
Speaking would be rough for a while, and I knew that my words were hard to understand.
 

James nodded.
 
“Yes.
 
He was on several somethings.
 
Some mix of crystal meth and bath salts.
 
Your father ambushed Henry, then beat him to death with a large rock a few blocks from your house.
 
He took his gun, and walked to your house.
 
He jumped the fence in back and landed on Paterson, who shot him.
 
He shot him back, a point blank shot to the chest.
 
They said it killed Paterson almost instantly, partially because of the type of bullets in the gun, and the range of the shot.”
 

“Blake confronted him, and shot him again in the chest.
 
They deduced that this made him drop his gun.
 
He then picked up Paterson’s gun.
 
This was a smaller gun, with lighter ammo, and what he shot all three of you with, which is most likely why you survived.
 
Henry’s gun is the one that Stephan found and used to shoot your father in the head.
 
Let’s just say that gun had more effect on a giant, drug-crazed man, especially since Stephan had such unerring aim.
 
The bodyguards were trained to shoot for the heart, but Stephan went for a headshot.”

I nodded, thankful that he’d given me a full explanation, but devastated by all of the senseless loss.
 
“Those poor men.”

James nodded gravely.
 
“Yes, I know.
 
So much went wrong.
 
It’s hard to imagine that one man wreaked so much havoc when he was outnumbered like that, but they say the mix of drugs gave him a superhuman burst of strength.
 
None of us considered that possibility, much to my everlasting regret.”

I squeezed his hand, which enveloped mine warmly.
 
I searched his beautiful eyes, knowing that he felt a crushing guilt like I did.
 
“I’m so sorry, James.
 
If I’d had any ide
—
“

“Don’t,” he interrupted.
 
He gentled his voice, and his eyes.
 
“Please don’t.
 
We can’t take anything back, just as we couldn’t have seen the future.
 
All we can do is be thankful that it wasn’t worse.
 
When I first set foot into that backyard, I was convinced that my worst nightmare had come to fruition.
 
I’ll never stop being grateful that you survived that.
 
We are unspeakably lucky that there weren’t more lives lost.
 
All three of you were critical just days ago, and are now on the road to recovery.”

It was several days before Stephan was moved from the ICU, and we were both awake to see each other.
 
We had a teary-eyed reunion, clutching hands and sobbing like babies.
 

“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t recover,” I gasped.

He gave a strangled half-laugh, half-sob.
 
“
You
were afraid?
 
I watched him shoot you in the head.
 
I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from the sight.”

I winced at the visual.
 
“But you saved me.”

“Always, Buttercup,” he said, squeezing my hand hard.
 
“Always.”

He continued, quickly switching to a lighter topic.
 
“Would it be tacky for me to get engaged just over a week after you did?”

I looked around for Javier, taken aback at the question.
 
We were completely alone, even James giving us a moment of privacy.