Shades of Temptation (28 page)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
C
ARRIE
WAITED
AS
Turner sawed through the ropes binding her hands, taking care to keep
the muzzle of the gun pressed directly to her scalp. Sharp pain danced through
her hands as blood rushed to her fingers. She shook them out. He handed her the
rifle.
“I need a second. My hands are numb.”
He hit the back of her head with Jase’s gun, and she choked
back her instinctive gasp of pain.
“You have one shot,” he snapped. “Do it now.”
Carrie lifted the scope of her rifle to her eye and focused it
on the fragment of glass on Maria Nelson’s shoulder. It was the exact size of a
dime, she thought with grim fascination. The bastard had taken her
literally.
She took several deep breaths and gathered her strength. She
tried not to think of Jase, bleeding and dying, if not already dead. Once she
fired, Turner would look to see if she’d hit her target. That would give her a
second, maybe two, to catch him off guard.
Carrie took another calming breath and focused. Focused on the
small object that wasn’t more than fifty feet away. Focused on the feel of the
rifle in her hands. Focused. And squeezed the trigger.
Nothing. Nothing happened. She squeezed again. Still
nothing.
Understanding and then horror overtook her.
Her rifle didn’t have any bullets.
* * *
B
EHIND
HER
,
T
URNER
LAUGHED
.
“You really thought I’d be stupid enough to give
you a loaded gun? But, shit, you’re gutsy. You really could have done it,
couldn’t you? Perfect.”
He leaned down and kissed her ear. She didn’t even pull away.
He’d won. He’d kill her. Then Jase. Then Maria Nelson. Three for the price of
one.
A rush of movement, then Turner was off her. She twirled and
saw Jase.
The two men struggled, their bodies flaying back and forth as
each tried to topple the other. Carrie ran toward them, ready to bludgeon Turner
with her rifle. But their bodies were a writhing swirl of movement, practically
indistinguishable. She saw Jase’s gun lying close by and scrambled toward it,
praying that Jase could hold on just a couple of seconds longer. She grabbed his
gun and turned. Ready to fire.
Only she couldn’t. Turner had Jase in front of him, using him
as cover as he held the knife to his throat. Unwanted images swirled through her
head. Images of Kelly Sorenson, Tammy Ryan and Tony Higgs’s bloody remains. The
way Kelly’s roommate and Nora Lopez had wept upon learning those they loved were
dead. Carrie had watched with compassion but an emotional detachment necessary
to do her job. Now she was forced to watch as a madman held a knife to the
throat of someone she loved.
Anxiety. Fear. Panic. The emotions hit her in the face with the
force of a heavyweight champ landing a knockout punch. Her breath spiraled out
of control, and she feared she was going to faint.
She took in a deep breath. Then another. She could do this.
Suck it up, she told herself. Focus on what she needed to do.
She needed to keep Turner talking.
Talking was a distraction. Plus, he had a habit of gesturing
with his knife hand to make his points. The movement was subtle, but it could be
enough to give her an opening.
If Jase was strong enough to help her.
She stared into Jase’s eyes, communicating her belief in him.
Hold on, Jase. Just a little longer. Hold on.
Injecting a tone of command in her voice, she aimed her gun.
“Drop your weapon.”
For a moment, Turner looked nervous. Then he started to laugh.
“Drop my weapon? I don’t think so. I, unlike you, have a hostage. I think
dropping yours sounds like a better suggestion, don’t you?”
Again, panic threatened to overwhelm her. She’d frozen the
first time she’d tried to shoot Kevin Porter. What if she froze now? What if she
failed? What if Jase died because of her?
She looked at Jase. He wobbled on his feet, barely able to
stand. Blood covered his shirt, and she knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He’d
die if they didn’t get help soon.
And she’d die, too.
She knew that. Even if she managed to kill Turner. Even if she
physically survived. If Jase died, Carrie wouldn’t be able to go on. That
couldn’t happen.
“You won’t get away, you know. The cops will find you. They
won’t rest until you’re behind bars. And for what? Because some idiots made fun
of you? Because you didn’t have the guts to believe that Nora would like you
just the way you were?”
Turner frowned. “She did like me. But she liked Tony more. And
the ones I killed were shallow. Too involved in their own beauty to care about
anyone else.”
“What about Lana?”
“I just… You’d gotten too close…made me feel weak…. I needed to
prove myself....”
“By killing a woman who wanted only to help you?”
He looked as if he was going to argue with her some more. But
then he smiled evilly. “Hey, maybe I’m getting used to it. Maybe I’m starting to
like how it feels to be the one with power. With the control. You know all about
that, don’t you? Isn’t that why people become cops? Because they get off on
controlling others?”
As Carrie looked at Turner’s angelic face and mocking smile,
she felt a veil of confidence settle over her. No. She’d chosen to be a cop
because she thought she’d be good at it. Because she wanted to do good.
Like Jase.
Turner had shifted his knife when he talked. Only a few inches,
but it was no longer pressed against Jase’s throat.
She remembered how Lana had spoken to Turner in that television
interview. How she’d thought of him as a victim. A product of a cruel world.
It no longer mattered.
Victim or not. Sick or not. Youthful or old. She’d thought it
before, but until now, she’d never truly believed it.
She locked eyes with Jase. And said his middle name.
“David.”
Simultaneously, she fired her weapon.
Jase wrenched himself to the side. The bullet lodged in
Turner’s brain before Jase even hit the ground. Turner stumbled back, his eyes
flickering with disbelief before going blank. He tumbled down like a building
detonated with dynamite. Right on top of Jase.
Carrie raced over and pushed Turner off Jase. Jase’s eyes were
closed, and he was breathing shallowly. She ripped open his shirt, shredding the
fabric so she could hold it firmly over his bleeding wounds. He grimaced at the
pressure, but she didn’t back off. His eyes were open now, and he was looking at
her. Unbelievably, he had a slight smile on his face.
“Carrie…” he said. He coughed, his lungs wheezing noisily when
he tried to catch his breath.
She shook her head. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re going to be
okay.”
“You did it.”
She nodded. “We did it, Jase. We. I couldn’t have done it
without you. I love you, Jase. Please hang on.”
He smiled again. “I love you,” he responded quietly before his
body went limp and he closed his eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
J
ASE
PUT
THE
FINISHING
touches on the table. His table. Not
theirs. Even though they spent virtually every night together, Carrie still
hadn’t agreed to move in with him.
Not yet.
The bouquet of peonies he’d gotten her spilled out of a crystal
vase that reflected the light of the fire. He set down two bottles of beer. A
dark pilsner for him and a Bud Light for Carrie. He always stocked up on both.
Not that they spent a lot of their time together drinking.
But tonight was a special occasion.
At least, that’s what Carrie had told him on the phone.
He was really hoping the specialness of this occasion included
the frothy piece of lingerie she’d worn a few nights back. When he’d seen her in
the feminine little number, it had just about destroyed him. Not just because
she was sexy, though God knows that was a given, but because it showed him how
far they’d come. Slowly but surely, she was showing him the individual facets of
herself. The strong parts, and the vulnerable ones. She was also becoming more
secure in her feminine appeal and he couldn’t think of anything sexier than
that.
It made all his patience over the past two months worth it. No,
he hadn’t pushed her to move in with him, but it hadn’t been easy for him to
refrain from doing so.
She’d told him she wanted them to start working a normal
routine again—together yet independently, not as partners glued together in a
crisis situation. They loved each other—there was no question about that—but she
wanted to be sure he knew exactly what he’d be “getting into” by making a life
with her. While it bothered him that she still had insecurities, he understood
why his stubborn warrior-woman wouldn’t allow herself to fall blindly even if
that’s what she wholeheartedly wanted to do. Sooner or later, she’d accept what
was so patently obvious to him: he loved her and he wanted her and that wasn’t
ever going to change.
He heard a sound behind him and turned, watching as Carrie
walked toward him, her gait smooth. Sometimes, depending on how hard they pushed
themselves, they walked with identical limps. Healing was going to take time,
but at least they had each other to speed things along.
Her gaze sought his and the love he saw there caused his
battered heart to dance.
They’d stopped not just one killer but two. Although they
hadn’t saved as many lives as they’d wanted to, they’d saved Maria Nelson and
had stopped Odell Bowers and Brad Turner from taking more lives.
Lana’s funeral had been a somber occasion, one that had cast a
seemingly permanent pal over the SIG team. Simon walked around grimmer than ever
and Jase could only hope that, with Mac’s return, he’d take some time off to
heal.
In a few nights, both Jase and Carrie would be recognized for
their outstanding service at an awards banquet put on by the mayor. It would
obviously help Carrie and the department oppose Martha Porter’s civil suit. As
far as their careers were concerned, they’d have opportunities now that they
hadn’t had before.
But nothing was as important as what they’d found with each
other. Not even the job that had made it possible.
As Carrie walked toward him, all he could think was,
My God, she’s beautiful. Beautiful and brave. Strong and
compassionate.
The woman of his dreams.
The partner of his heart.
Together they’d survived the worst kind of monsters, and
although there would be more of them in their future, there’d also be pleasure.
Happiness and joy.
For him, there’d be Carrie.
Always.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459241213
Copyright © 2012 by Virna DePaul
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