One Lucky Lady

One Lucky Lady

By Kaylin Bowen

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, places and organizations are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to people, places or events is completely coincidental.

One Lucky Lady

Copyright © 2012 by Kaylin Bowen

Author’s Note

This book was originally titled One Lucky Woman. The story itself has been reworked without changing the storyline or the plot and the cover has changed. Special thanks to Kimberly Killion and Megan Jordan over at
www.HotDamnDesigns.com
. I am so proud of the new cover. Thank you ladies!

Chapter One

He just lay there looking up. There were buildings on both sides but from his perspective he could see the black sky best. The stars looked like they were winking at him. Tonight was a really clear night. It rained this afternoon leaving behind the after-the-rain smell-a smell he had always loved. Unfortunately, it had also left behind the small, cold puddle of water he was now laying in. That part pretty much sucked.

Mac’s day started out fairly normal. He just finished up his recent case-where he had only been shot at once-and had called to check his voicemail. There was a message from his mother-just checking in-and one from a friend needing a favor. Of course, this was the first time in the years Mac had known Pedro, that the man had ever needed anything. Pedro seemed to be able to handle the impossible, find out the impossible and make it impossible for others to track him and his movements. The man was a genius…or maybe psychic. The fact that he called Mac meant things must be off in the World of Pedro.

Mac talked to his supervisor about some time off. It had not been a problem since he had almost a year’s vacation to burn. His boss told him to take as long as he needed and that, if he was asking for time off, it must be important. Mac hadn’t given him any details, but his boss was right. If Pedro was asking for help, it was definitely important.

Mac packed a bag and called Pedro back. After talking for a few minutes, he had an address and it was in town. Mac was just supposed to keep an eye on someone. No problem.

His left arm was no longer hurting. It was tingling a little, but the sharp, shooting, very intense pain was gone. Mac didn’t know whether that was good or bad, but it sure felt a hell of a lot better.

Mac lay there for what seemed like an eternity. He tried to get up. He was in the best shape of his life, but apparently that didn’t matter when you lost a lot of blood. The damn alley just kept spinning and the only way he could stay awake was to lie still. Thoughts of what happened danced through his head like reflections on the water while he unsuccessfully tried to hold pressure on his shoulder.

The woman looked distressed as she was being dragged into the dark alley. She was a small woman, maybe a teenager. Her gaze locked on his and he realized that she might be a teenager, but she had the eyes of an older woman, like she had seen too much. He worked with a lot of people like that-people who seemed way older than their years due to circumstances often beyond their control. Now he realized the look in her eyes was the same look hunter’s get when they have their prey in their sight.

Her assailant was not a big man, probably a few inches shy of six foot. The guy weighed about one sixty-five. The look in his eyes had been…sinister, and a little bit challenging.

Mac realized, the second he stepped into the alley, it was a trap. The woman’s assailant smiled and winked at her as he released her from his grip. He said “Good job, baby.”

Mac turned to leave, saw another man, and simultaneously felt a sharp pain sizzle through his left arm. Mac hit the guy wielding the knife hard with his right fist, and the guy went down. The other one-the one who dragged the woman into the alley, jumped on Mac’s back. He was fighting two men, and his vision was starting to blur. Mac knew he must be losing blood. He had felt the same thing once or twice before. Of course, that had at least been from a gunshot. Dying from a bullet wound was much more manly than dying from a lucky stab wound by a common thug. He successfully fought passing out, but knew he wasn’t going to be standing much longer.

Mac felt his body fall to the ground. The small guy and the woman were already leaving the alley. The guy who stabbed him squatted next to his body looking at his handy work. He dug Mac’s wallet out of his back pocket. He went straight for the cash, looking pleased with his score. Mac watched as he threw the wallet into a dumpster a little ways down the alley. He returned and bent down, taking Mac’s watch as he smiled. It was the smile that made Mac’s stomach turn. It was the type of smile he had seen all too many times before. It was the smile of a killer. Mac could see in his eyes that he enjoyed causing pain. The killer stood up and said “Let’s get outta here.” The three of them walked off laughing, obviously leaving Mac for dead.

He knew he really was as good as dead. The street he left for the alley was deserted except for him. He left his cell phone and gun in the truck.
Why did he leave his cell phone in the truck, he just had it didn’t he?
He remembered putting his gun in the glove box figuring he wouldn’t need it until he arrived at the address Pedro had given him. This was not supposed to be happening on his first day off in a few years.

He knew he was bleeding a lot. He saw the blade in his attackers hand as he wiped Mac’s blood off onto his jeans. Mac laughed a little, making his head spin. Surely the knife was bigger. He felt like he had been stabbed with a machete, but the blade was only about 6 inches long. It was long enough to do quite a bit of damage, even kill. Mac knew-from experience-that even the smallest weapon, when used correctly, could be lethal.

Mac tried to sit up again, knowing he somehow had to find help, but his head started to spin worse. He fell back down with a thud and a groan.

Alex knew she shouldn’t be out, especially at night. She couldn’t help it. Three days was too long. If she had to do this for months, well, she didn’t want to think about it. She headed down the street to the little grocery store. They delivered her groceries once a week, but only had a standing order for the necessities. Right now she needed human contact and she needed chocolate. Not necessarily in that order. She
really
needed chocolate. Pedro would understand… If he ever found out. Probably better that he never find out.

Some guy who was leaving held the door open for her. She just nodded her thanks and kept her head down. The guy behind the counter didn’t look up when she walked in.
Thank you, God
. He didn’t seem like the type who spoke much English. Plus she was dressed as a boy. She was probably safe.

She walked over, got her favorite chocolate bar-three of them-with almonds and checked out. She was relieved when the guy behind the counter only took his eyes off the TV long enough to look at her total, tell her and give her the change. He didn’t even look at her. Her disguise was pretty good, but she would rather nobody really see her, anyway. She walked out the door, glad to see the street was empty.

Alex was feeling much better just having chocolate in her possession. Kind of like euphoria by osmosis. She heard them before she saw them. She heard a young girl giggle and the lower laughter of two young men just as they came out of the alley. She pulled the hood of her black sweat shirt low and lifted her chin just a little in acknowledgement as they walked by. The two young men did the same. Boy, they gave her the creeps. Goose bumps popped up on her arms. They were up to something. She kept walking, but put her hands in her pockets, feeling the gun in her right hand. It really didn’t help her unease. She had enough faith in her instincts to know all was not well in Atlanta tonight.

Just as she was starting to wonder what exactly they had been up to, something in the alley caught her attention. She turned to look back down the street after the troublemakers. They were far enough away now for her to feel safe, but her stomach was still in knots. Alex turned her attention back to the alley.
What was that sound?

She squinted hard trying to see, but it was no use. It was just too dark. She started walking very slowly and very quietly toward the sound.
This is a really bad idea, Alex
.
Young women don’t go into dark alleys with strange sounds by themselves, Alex.
She was straining to hear, but it was kind of difficult considering the little voice in her head. That sound was a moan. Somebody was hurt. She started running toward the sound. A familiar feeling started humming through her body. It was a combination of adrenaline and dread.

Her eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness of the alley as she crept forward.
Oh. My. God.
There was an extremely large man lying there groaning, conscious. She slowed her steps and deliberately walked all the way around his body, assessing the situation. Even in the darkness, she could see the blood soaked into the shirt over his left shoulder. Looking closer, she could see the pool of blood under his left side.
A lot of blood
.

The young man standing above him looked very odd. Mac watched him pull a cell phone out and dial. He heard him say “It’s me. No, I’m okay. I’m not at home. I’ll explain later. I need you to send an ambulance”. Then he heard him give what Mac assumed was their location. Mac could hear the voice on the other end yelling. Boy, he sounded pissed.
Why was he pissed?

The young man bent down, and Mac struggled to stay alert. He unbuttoned Mac’s shirt and pulled Mac’s good arm out. The kid lifted him very gently by his good shoulder to pull the shirt out from under Mac. Then he very carefully worked Mac’s left arm out.
What in the hell was he doing? What seemed odd earlier?
Why couldn’t he think straight, dammit?

Mac just lay there watching as the kid tore the left sleeve away from the rest of the shirt. He could feel every little pebble pushing into his back now. The cool water left on the concrete by the rain now felt freakin’ cold. Mac noticed the kid had very small hands, but they seemed to be strong at the same time. He folded the larger piece of the shirt and pressed it against Mac’s bleeding shoulder. Mac hissed, “Shit”.

The kid looked at him, looked him in the eye. The kid looked…confident. Very confident, in fact. Mac also noticed the very bright green eyes, the full lips and the faint freckles across the bridge of the kid’s nose. The kid ducked his head again and went back to dressing Mac’s wound. He was putting pressure on the bleeding and quickly working the detached sleeve up under Mac’s arm with his free hand. The kid raised Mac’s shoulder again, very gently, and slid the sleeve into place. He removed his hand just long enough to secure the dressing with a tidy knot. Then he went back to holding pressure on Mac’s bleeding wound.

The injured guy looked at her one last time before he passed out. Alex knew the kids were long gone by now. Now, she also knew why they made her uncomfortable. She learned a long time ago to trust her instincts. This guy did not make her the least bit uncomfortable. Well, at least not the bad kind of uncomfortable. God, he was gorgeous. And huge. She could see the broad muscled shoulders and the well defined arms easily now. How in the hell did those kids overpower him?

Her hands were still holding pressure over his now bandaged wound. It looked like a knife wound. Just a small little vertical slit in his shoulder, but blood was pulsing from it. The knife hit an artery.
Damn
.

True to habit, Alex had handled his main problem first. Now she needed to make sure he would make it until the ambulance showed up. She made sure his airway was clear.
Good.
He was breathing regularly, more so since he had passed out.
Good.
She felt his wrist.
Not good
. His pulse was fast and not strong enough for her comfort. He must have lost a lot of blood. Now his heart was pumping fast to try to keep up. She would stay with him until the ambulance was close. She knew it was risky, but she couldn’t let him bleed to death. She sent up a silent prayer for the ambulance to hurry.