Page 18

Avery

My dragon instincts all but took over.

As Jacy fell onto the snow-covered asphalt, I nearly shifted. I saw the rifle retract into the truck’s window, witnessed the vehicle skid across the pavement as it screamed, tires spinning, into the street. I saw myself flying low over it, grasping the roof in my talons, lifting it, tossing it aside to crash – then setting it, and its murdering occupants – ablaze.

Jacy needed me more. Declan, screaming, crying, in the SUV, needed me more.

I knelt beside my beloved in the icy cold and set my fingers to the pulse in her neck. She’s alive! Her blood pooled on the asphalt under her, melting the snow, and forcing me to turn her over. I had to stop the bleeding.

“Is she alive?” someone demanded from behind me.

“Yeah,” I answered, terse. “Call an ambulance.”

“Is this your son in the car?”

“Yeah.”

I pressed the heel of my hand against the bubbling wound in Jacy’s chest. Half listening, I heard a matronly voice comfort Declan, then more voices surround us. In the dim distance, a siren wailed in response to the catastrophe.

And if Jacy died, a catastrophe would indeed this situation become.

“You’re not gonna die,” I muttered, stopping the terrible flow of blood from her body. I stared into her closed eyes, her parted lips, her pale flesh. “You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you. Breathe, dammit. Breathe. You’re tough. You’re a fighter. We need you, Jacy. You know we need you.”

Paramedics arrived, pushing me aside. They applied oxygen, took her blood pressure, applied blood congealing bandages, inserted tubes that kept her saline levels up. I sat back, dripping her blood, watching, as Declan crawled into my arms. We both stared in grief and horror as the medics worked to perform a miracle.

She’s lost too much blood. What if the bullet hit an artery? Her lungs? Will she die on the table?

I held my weeping son to my chest, and my soul within me died.

***

“She’s resilient, I’ll give her that.”

The exhausted surgeon doffed his cap as he looked at me with Declan sleeping across my lap in the hospital’s surgical wing’s waiting room. “We repaired her artery, removed the bullet. It nicked her heart, and whoever kept the blood inside her saved her life.”

I refrained from saying it was me who did that. “And?”

“With good luck, she’ll recover fully.” He shrugged slightly. “Without such luck, she’ll always have a weakened heart, compromised immune system. The bullet ended up in her shoulder blade – she might have a life filled with pain because of it.”

He nodded politely and walked away.

She’s a dragon, you ass. Jacy has the toughness of a dragon and will heal like one. She’ll be flying within days, bullet or no bullet cracking her shoulder blade. If she survived the initial attack, she’ll recover easily.

I endured the questioning of the police. No, I don’t know the shooter. No, I don’t know why he targeted us. Mistaken identity? That’s possible. We’d just bought an SUV, had dinner, and were headed home. Yeah, this is my son, I hope he’s not traumatized by all this shit.

The officers left cards. Call us if you think of anything.

Yeah, right.

With draconic rage smoldering in my heart, I pondered the reason Jacy came to me. She’d seldom spoken of it, but I knew she’d fled from someone. An ex-husband, boyfriend. One who’d abused her. One she’d feared. I smoothed Declan’s hair from his brow and plotted vengeance.

Come out, come out, wherever you are, I crooned within my mind. You messed with the wrong woman, dude. She’s mine, not yours. And if you want a fight, I’ll sure give you a good one. I’ll burn you to a fucking crisp.

Unless Jacy told me about him, who he was, my rage had no outlet.

Hours passed. A nurse informed me Jacy was in intensive care. There she’d stay until she healed enough to be transferred to a regular room. Yes, I was permitted to see her for a short time, but Declan could not. As much as I needed to see Jacy, assure myself that she’d live, I couldn’t leave him. Even for ten minutes.

Near dawn, when the hospital’s heart beat slowly, I carried Declan to the nurses’ station. A pleasant looking lady in purple scrubs glanced up with a smile.

“Yes?”

“Jacy Maxwell? Is there any change in her condition?”

“Let me check.”

The young nurse tapped a few keys on her keyboard, studied the monitor. “Her stats are good, no fever, her urine output is normal, kidneys seem to be functioning. This doesn’t say if she’s woken up yet.”

“May I see her? Just for a minute.”

She eyed Declan in my arms. “Kids aren’t allowed in the ICU rooms, but as she’s asleep.” She grinned. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I blew her a kiss. “Which room?”

“C. It’s right down there.”

“Thank you.”

I found Jacy’s tiny room with the glass front, but lacking a door. On her back, her flesh ghostly pale, she rested on the gurney. Tubes sprouted from her chest, others dripped liquid substances into needles in her arms. Her heart beeped slowly and steadily on the monitor. An oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth.

“Oh, Jacy,” I muttered thickly, tears stinging my eyes. “I love you so much. You can’t leave us, baby.”

Her eyes fluttered. Her head rolled on the thin pillow even as she smiled behind her mask. “Hi.” Her voice was weak, faint, but I thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Careful not to wake Declan, I bent to kiss her brow. “Hi.”

Jacy lifted her right hand and lightly touched Declan’s arm. “Sleeping.”

“Yeah. As you should be. We only have a minute. Long enough to say how much we love you.”

“Love you.”

Jacy’s eyes closed. She slept.

***

As much as I wanted to, we couldn’t camp out at the hospital. After seeing Jacy, I drove Declan home just as the dark sky above morphed into a sullen lighter shade of gray. The highway had become slick from last’s night’s storm. The snowplows pushed the snow aside but left behind the ice.

Declan didn’t wake as I carried him upstairs to his room. His cats bitterly complained about his absence, trotting ahead of me with their tails high. Both jumped on his bed, sniffing him over, as I tucked him under his covers. Leaving him to their care, I showered, then laid down on my bed to sleep. Though I was exhausted, emotionally drained, sleep came only slowly.

I’d dozed for perhaps an hour, then woke when Declan emerged from his room to use the toilet. I glanced at the clock – eight-thirty. I scrubbed my face with both hands, then stiffly stood up. I donned my jeans but no shirt and went downstairs to make Declan his breakfast. I set his favorite cereal, a bowl, and spoon on the table, then started my coffee.

“Is Mom going to be all right?”

Declan, his hair flattened in some places, sticking up wildly in others, stood in the kitchen doorway. The kittens prowled at his feet, meowing for their breakfast. The anguish that creased his small face nearly broke my heart. I crossed the kitchen to pick him up.

“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “She’ll be okay. She’s a dragon, remember?”

“Why did someone do that?”

“I wish I knew. But they’ll pay for it. That I promise you.”

While expressing my need for vengeance to my toddler son might not be the best parenting, I refused to regret my words. Dragons would not nor could not let such an attack slide. Whoever shot Jacy would indeed pay for hurting her.

Declan hugged me around my neck. “When can we go see her?”

“How about this afternoon?”

“Can we bring her lunch?”

“Let’s see how she’s doing first.”

While he played with his toys and the cats, I slept on and off on the sofa. My sleep deepened, dropping me into a nightmare in which I couldn’t save Jacy. I wept as her blood and her life gushed out from under my hands. No! Jacy, no! Stay with me, don’t leave us –

“Dad!”

I woke abruptly, covered in sweat, blinking as Declan shook my shoulder. “What?”

His lower lip quivered. “You were crying in your sleep.”

Upon wiping my face, I discovered it was wet with my tears. “Sorry.”

He crawled onto the sofa with me, his small face crumpled. “I want Mom.”

Lying on my chest, he burst into a fit of crying. I held him, trying to find words of comfort when my own terrors of losing Jacy still wracked my soul. I smoothed his tangled hair, unable to say much beyond it’ll be all right.

I sat up with Declan in my arms. Grabbing a tissue from the table, I wiped his face, held it so he could blow his nose. “How about we get ice cream?” I suggested. “On our way to see Mom.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Well, I do. Come on, time to get out of your jammies. Go upstairs and get dressed.”

While he stomped his way to his room, I stared out the kitchen window at the sunlight melting the snow from the previous night’s storm. The nightmare clung to me like a heavy spider web, nor could I shake free of its grip. Was it a premonition that Jacy had died while I slept? No, the hospital would have called.

I still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom as I drove the miles to the city hospital.

Holding Declan’s hand, I strode through the sliding doors and crossed the lobby to the elevators. Declan gazed around at the hospital staff in wonder with a few nurses smiling at him. What an adorable little boy I heard murmured around us. If Declan heard the compliments, he gave no hint of it.

I glanced toward unit C as we walked to the ICU nurses’ station. A different nurse glanced up in askance.

“Jacy Maxwell?”

“Oh. You’re too late.”

My heart thudded in my chest. No, no, no, no. “Um.”

“She’s been transferred to a regular room on the second floor.”

My head spun sickeningly. “Do you know what room?”

“No, but you can ask there.”

“Um, thanks.” I managed a crooked smile while my knees wobbled. She’s not dead, not dead, not dead.

“Where’s Mom?” Declan asked, his voice rising as we headed back down the corridor. “Is she okay?”

I punched the elevator button. “She must be getting better if they moved her, little man.”

We not just found Jacy on the second floor, we found her awake. The oxygen mask was gone, as were the tubes going into her chest. She wore a hospital johnny under the light blanket, and only a single needle buried under her skin led a slim tube to a bag hanging nearby.

“Mom!”

Jacy’s green eyes lit up in instant love. “Baby.”

I grabbed his arm before he could leap onto her bed. “Easy, easy. She’s fragile. Just give her a careful hug.”

Declan gingerly hugged her as Jacy sat partway up. She immediately laid back down as though the movement exhausted her. By her pale skin and the slight tremble in her hands, I suspected the effort did indeed wear her out.

I bent to kiss her. “Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi.”

“Don’t scare us like that again.” I rubbed her nose with mine. “My heart can’t take it.”

“Are you getting better, Mom?”

I lifted Declan so he could sit on the edge of her bed and hold her hand.

“Yeah, I’m much better. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. How’s Peter and Wendy?”

I studied her face as Declan regaled Jacy with stories of what the kittens had done lately, showed her the faint scratch on his hand from Pete’s enthusiastic playing. Jacy kissed it, chuckling weakly, as I sat in the room’s only visitor’s chair. I rolled the question I desperately wanted to ask within my mind, wondering how I’d ask it with Declan right there.

A knock on the door interrupted both my thoughts and cat stories. A dude in a business suit and tie poked his head around the door’s edge. A cop. He’s gotta be.

“Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, stepping in as though invited. “I’m Detective Truman Jenkins. You’re Ms. Maxwell?”

“I don’t think she’s up for any questions,” I said, standing.

He eyed me with amusement. “And you are?”

“Her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Then you were at the scene of the shooting last night. I have questions for you as well.”

He sat comfortably in the chair I’d just vacated and smiled at Declan. “Hi, there.”

“Hi.”

As Declan didn’t shy from him, I guessed Jenkins was an okay guy, even if he was rude and pushy. “I won’t take up much time. You’re Avery Armstrong?”

“Yeah. My son, Declan.”

He gravely shook Declan’s hand. “Did either of you happen to see the vehicle the shooter was in?”

“I didn’t see it at all,” I replied. “Jacy yelled ‘get down’ and pushed me further into the car. I was buckling Declan into his car seat at that moment.”

“Ms. Maxell?”

“No,” she said softly. “All I saw was the gun. The rifle.”

“You’re sure it was a rifle?”

“Long barrel. The light reflected off of it.”

Jenkins nodded thoughtfully. “A waitress at the restaurant said she saw a dark gray or blue Chevy truck parked there, the silhouette of a man inside, when she went on her smoke break. She thought it odd that he was still there when she went on another smoke break.”

“How much time between breaks?” I asked, frowning.

“More than an hour.” He glanced between Jacy and me. “How long were you in there?”

“Close to two hours.”

“So this dude waited for you to come out.”

“Are we sure that dude was the shooter?” I demanded.

“According to eyewitnesses, yes.” He nodded shortly. “Folks heard the shot, saw Ms. Maxwell fall. A moment later, the truck drove from the lot at a high rate of speed. It skidded on the snow, nearly hit a fire hydrant, then drove east.”

An odd silence fell as Jenkins looked at Jacy. “Who wants you dead, Jacy?”

“Hey, maybe the guy wanted to shoot me, not Jacy,” I protested.

“What do you do for a living, Avery?”

“I’m a stockbroker.”

He smiled. “I doubt the dude wanted you dead.” He heaved a deep breath. “I’ve looked into Jacy’s background a little. You know, snooped. You weren’t born Jacy Maxwell, were you?”

My jaw tightened as Jacy slowly shook her head.

“I’m Jacy Andoni.”

Jenkins eyed Declan. “You lost your father recently, isn’t that right? A certain individual who, shall we say, skated on the far side of the law?”

“That’s right.”

“Wait a second,” I snapped. “Are you accusing her of something, Jenkins?”

“I’m accusing her of being related to a gangster,” he answered calmly. “I saw nothing that indicated Jacy has done anything illegal.”

“So where are you going with this?”

Jenkins lifted a brow. “Jacy? Who wants to see you harmed?”

She didn’t look at him, but at me. She smiled sadly.

“My brother.”