Sweet Seduction Shield (40 page)

My hand jerked
in Ryan's, my body went completely stiff. I forced air into my
lungs, as all blood left my head.

He thought it
was a game; a sadistic, cruel game. He had my baby girl in his
hands and he teased us with her life.

I looked up
and Ryan was watching me, a muscle jumping along his bearded
jaw.

"We're coming
out!" he shouted.

"Now,
Detective Sergeant.
Do
make sure that gun of yours is left behind. If I see it in your
holster, or anywhere else for that matter, I'll put a bullet
through the kid's head."

My body shook,
my breaths came in pants, Ryan tightened his grip on my hand and
slipped the gun from its holder on his belt. He leaned down and
placed it on the concrete beside the toilet block wall. When he
stood up again and faced me, there was a novel's worth of words in
the concentrated look of his eyes.

I didn't have
it in me to read them. I hoped he'd get a chance to say them when
this was all said and done.

We stepped out
from behind the building just as the moon was covered by a cloud.
Probably the only fucking cloud in the entire night sky, but its
timing felt ominous. Coincidences aren't my thing, but I forced my
nerves to calm. Andrews was a dark shadow against a darker sky as
we walked towards him. I strained to see Daisy, but he appeared to
be standing alone. Was there another player? Had he dumped her
somewhere and we were simply walking to our deaths?

If Daisy
was... dead, I might as well be.

Ryan's firm
and unwavering hold of my hand righted my course. I took another
shaking step towards the shadowed man before us.

"Do you have
the book?" Andrews asked.

"Yes," Ryan
replied.

"Show me."

"Show us
Daisy," Ryan countered.

Andrews
shrugged, taking a step to the side and revealing the body of my
daughter, curled up in a ball on her side, thumb in mouth,
trembling. She hasn't sucked on her thumb since she was two.

I took an
involuntary step towards her, Andrews raised a gun.

"The
ledger."

"It's in the
back of my jeans, I need to reach for it," Ryan pointed out.

"Turn around,
lift your shirt from the neckline," Andrews coolly replied, proving
he was indeed once a cop.

Ryan shifted
slowly, clearly hating having his back to the man, but did as he'd
been instructed and lifted his t-shirt from his shoulders, exposing
the book in his waistband.

"Mrs Costello,
kindly lift the ledger from his jeans," Andrews asked.

So formal. So
creepy. So wrong.

I pulled the
book free and held it in front of me, pressed up to the blanket
which was still clutched to my chest.

"Walk over and
hold it out to me."

"Let Daisy
walk here first," Ryan argued.

"If that's
your level of negotiating skills, Pierce, I'm surprised you made
Sergeant."

"Come on,
Andrews. A show of faith."

"Why should I
give you that? You never did me."

"You weren't
holding a five year old ransom for a book."

"You think I
liked lying down with that scum?"

I was losing the train of where this was going. My eyes only
for Daisy, her eyes locked on mine.
Hang in there, baby.
Mummy's coming. Daddy will work it out
.

"I had no
choice," Andrews was saying.

"I've heard
that a lot lately," Ryan remarked. "Doesn't change the fact that
you've got a five year old girl at your feet shit scared. Is this
the sort of man you really are, Andrews?"

"I don't give
a fuck what sort of man you think I am. I will have that book."

"And we'll
give it to you. Just hand over Daisy and it's yours."

Andrews
hesitated. I was surprised to see that Ryan's consistent and calm
demands had actually made it through this lunatic's thick
skull.

"Got your
handcuffs?" he suddenly asked.

"Yes," Ryan
said, through slightly gritted teeth.

"Left hand
only. Get them out."

Ryan followed
his instruction, pulling the handcuffs free from his belt with his
left hand.

"One on your
right wrist, the other on your left, behind your back."

Ryan didn't
even pause, just clicked the manacles in place behind his back,
making himself vulnerable in front of an armed, crazy man.

"Get up kid,"
Andrews said, giving Daisy's form a shove with his booted foot.

My heart leapt
into my throat. Daisy stumbled to her feet, swaying slightly. My
heart plummeted to my toes.

"Now Mum,
you're gonna do what a million other mothers say they'd do, but
never get the chance."

Ice filled my
veins.

"You're gonna
give your life for your daughter's. Ain't that a bitch?"

I lifted my
chin and took a step forward.

"Wait!" Ryan
said, almost desperately. "What do you plan to do with this thing?"
He nodded his head towards the book in my hands. "How's it going to
help McLaren now?"

"Richard Costello's
wife
will
make for good insurance, but if that fails, he'll pull in favours.
Lots of them in there, no doubt you've already seen who. Some of
them are powerful allies to have."

Or dangerous
enemies to provoke, I thought numbly. His funeral. Maybe mine as
well. But at least Daisy would live.

I glanced at Ryan; caught his gaze, made sure my eyes said
everything I couldn't right now...
Look after
her.

He shook his head. His eyes argued,
You're not going
anywhere
.

Mine gently countered,
You know that's not
true.

His pleaded,
Don't say that. We'll get through
this.

I smiled. My eyes whispered,
I love
you
.

"No," he
rasped, aloud. Then in a firmer voice said, "Me and the ledger, for
Daisy and Marie."

No!

"Now why would
McLaren want you, when he can have the bitch who started this
all?"

Ryan didn't
look at Andrews, he looked right into me. I saw an apology there.
For what he was doing, or for what he was about to say. I didn't
know, I just knew I didn't like it. I reached for him, but he
turned away, and with his hands still cuffed behind his back he
somehow managed to grasp the book and tug it free.

"A cop is a
much better bargaining tool than a civilian," Ryan pointed out,
taking a step towards Andrews, who lifted his gun in a steady hand
to aim for Ryan's face. "But I think McLaren would find this
ironic, don't you? Marie watching the man she loves trade his life
for hers and her child's. Again."

Oh, fuck.
No!

Andrews head
tilted to the side as he considered that.

"You know
what, Pierce. You understand your criminals, don't you?"

"To their
rotten cores."

"Start
walking," Andrews commanded.

My heart
faltered, beat unmercifully behind my ribs, all breath stolen. Ice
encased my neck, my throat, my chest. I was drowning, I was
dying.

I was watching
the man I loved walk to his death.

I stumbled,
Ryan glanced over his shoulder.

"Come on,
Tiger. You can do this," he said.

No!
Tears sprang to my eyes, making everything
waver.

"Get walking
kid. I got bigger fish to fry," I heard Andrews say from down a
bleak, dark tunnel.

I sank to my
knees in the sand, salt from the sea mixed with salt from my tears
on my trembling lips. Daisy appeared in my blurred vision, I
automatically reached out with the blanket and wrapped her up,
cuddling her to my chest. I rocked back and forth, holding my baby
girl in my arms, thankful for her return, but dying a little inside
at the cost.

This could not
be happening. Not again. And this time, I was sure, I would not
survive the loss. I loved Ryan, more than I'd loved any man in my
life before. More than Rick. Rick's murder had damn near broken me.
Ryan's sacrifice already had.

How would we survive this? How would we go on in a world where
he didn't exist? He was my shield. He was the one person who kept
me steady, gave me a rudder to sail straight through the storms. I
couldn't do this without him. I just couldn't. No. This was a
million times worse than that night.
This
was the end of my world.

"Marie, babe,"
Ryan said, making me blink my eyes and strain to see him. He was
kneeling beside Andrews. I must have missed several seconds,
because blood trickled down the side of his head, onto a pale white
cheek. He was panting slightly, gritting his teeth as though in
pain. Andrews had clocked him on the head, no doubt with the butt
of the gun sitting in his hand. In the other hand the bastard held
the ledger.

My hope and my
salvation in the grip of this vile, evil man.

"Get in the
car and drive away," Ryan said.

I shook my
head.

"You can do
it, Tiger," he encouraged. "For Daisy."

I sucked in a
breath, held onto my daughter tighter, and found myself nodding my
head.

"That's my
brave girl," Ryan murmured.

"Ah, this is
sweet," Andrews interrupted. "But you've got it all wrong."

My chin jerked
up as a chill swept down my spine.

"Get behind
me, Daisy," I whispered urgently, straightening my spine, holding
the gaze of the devil before me.

I'd faced off
against the devil before. That time he'd been in the body of Roan
McLaren. This man here was no better or no worse. I stood to my
feet, sheltering my daughter.

"When I say
run, you run," I said under my breath. "And you don't look back.
Understand, Daisy-girl."

"Wokay," came
the shaky reply.

My eyes
flicked to Ryan's, pride and love stared back at me.

"First the man
you love," Andrews said, turning his gun on Ryan, muzzle to the
back of his head. "Then your daughter. Then maybe you."

"Bastard,"
Ryan spat, receiving a whack on his head with the gun instead of a
bullet. I cried out, Daisy started running, and a gunshot sounded
out on the air.

Blood. So much
blood. I'd seen blood spray like this before. I'd seen the world
slow down to just a single heartbeat. Droplets of crimson suspended
in the air. In amongst them... globules of redish-yellow, sharp
shards of white coated in red.

Blood, brain
and skull fragments spread out in a mesmerizing arc, but they
didn't land on my chest, slip down the neck of my blouse. They
didn't belong to my dead husband, like they had all those years
ago.

And they
didn't belong to the man who held my heart.

My shield. My
rudder in the storm.

Ryan staggered to his feet, as Andrews flew backwards through
the air, following the trajectory of the bullet that had just
connected with his forehead. His gun arm swung wide, the pistol
flying off towards the sea and landing with a soft
whumpf!
As his larger body shuddered the
ground beneath it when it finally came to rest in the
sand.

Ryan glanced
at me, then glanced over my shoulder.

"Fuck me," he
whispered, as I swung around to see.

Standing
there, pale as Ryan had been, was Detective Harvey Stone holding a
smoking gun in his right hand. He let it go, I watched as it
tumbled to the ground, and then he sank to his knees and started
crying. Big heaving, silent sobs from deep inside his chest.

"Hey," Ryan
murmured. "It's OK, my man."

"I'm sorry,"
Harvey cried, the sobs somehow coming harder.

"I know," Ryan
whispered. "I know."

His beautiful
brown eyes lifted to look at me. There was no long conversation
hidden in their melted depths. No back and forth to be had in just
one look.

It was
simple.

I loved him
and he loved me. And we were free.

And there were
no sweeter words unsaid in anyone's eyes ever before.

Two Months
Later

Squeals of
delight sounded out from the garden. The clatter of feet across the
deck, followed by the low rumble of a male voice, then two high
pitched giggles. My eyes flickered open and a smile stretched my
lips. I could hear cupboard doors banging in the kitchen, the
dinging of the fridge to indicate it had been open too long and was
letting all the cold air out, and the clink of ice hitting
glasses.

"Orange or
raspberry?" Ryan asked.

Two little
girl squeals of, "Red, red, red!"

"Red raspberry
delight, for two pretty princesses, coming right up," he declared,
receiving a chorus of further giggles.

I glanced
around the lounge where I was having an afternoon nap on the couch.
Several frozen eyed stares from dropped dolls met my eyes. Sparkly
clothing, brightly coloured hair-clips, brushes, plastic doll's
shoes, and various other necessary paraphernalia for a doll
dress-up session spread out across the lounge room floor.

It had been
like this since early this morning. And I hadn't picked up a single
item.

My eyes
flicked from one carelessly discarded toy to another, noting the
way some tangled together, and how others lay at odd angles from
the next, and the doll's dresses were mixed up with the doll's
hats, and had absolutely no order to their arrangement at all.

And how I
didn't even care.

I wasn't cured
of my OCD, not by a long shot. Orange smelling disinfectant ruled
in the kitchen from time to time. I had six pairs of different
coloured rubber gloves. One for each room that needed cleaning,
when the desire to do so arose. But I'd relaxed an awful lot from
the 'old ways'.

Hell, Daisy
even had cans of paint in every colour of the rainbow and I was
discovering that getting water based colourants out of clothing
wasn't nearly as big a deal as I'd previously thought.