Marty waited for the pain of the bullet ripping through her, but it didn't come.

And she wasn't dead. When she finally managed to convince herself of that fact and opened her eyes, she saw Hammond lying on the floor, unmoving. A bullet wound gaped in his skull, blood staining the floor around where he lay.

How? What? She blinked again and again, trying to focus her eyes. She saw Hammond sprawled before her then finally looked beyond his body and saw a pair of boots. Raising her gaze she locked eyes on Jake. He stood there, the pistol still gripped in his hand and aimed unwaveringly at the man prostrate on the floor in front of her.

Their gazes clashed.

Then she turned and looked again at the gory body in front of her. He was bleeding on her foot, the red fluid staining her white tennis shoe. There were blood spatters up her legs and on her arms. Horror overwhelmed her as she stared at the morbid scene.

Oh My God. Oh My God. Oh My God.

"Come here, baby." Jake stuck the pistol into the back of his pants and reached for her.  He held out his hands and helped her to stand and then step oh-so-carefully across Bobby Hammond.

God, don't let me slip and fall on his body.

Jake pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She clung to his neck, shudders quaking through her.

His hands sank into her hair and he held her, just held her, rocking her against him. She slowly calmed, the shivers subsiding to one every few seconds.

God, they were together, they were alive, and the kids were safe.

Their lips met in a crash, the sweet taste of life filling them up.

The wail of sirens filled the air as they held each other close. It was a beautiful sound.

 

Everything happened swiftly after that. Nora and Joe came running up the stairs followed almost immediately by a dozen or so police officers.

Of course all the noise woke the children, who began to wail from their rooms. Nora took off to see to the kids and Marty and Jake were quickly hustled downstairs by the cops to give their statements.

The chaos went on for what felt like hours. The medics came and whisked Hollister away, and the coroner came to collect the two state troopers and Hammond. She talked to several detectives, telling them over and over again what had happened. That wasn't easy for Marty. She had to relive the experience, the fear, the panic, the certainty she was going to die. By the time she was finished retelling the tale her stomach rolled in protest and tension swelled in her head.

Not only that but she couldn't wait to get cleaned up. The blood and gore on her clothing revolted her. She wanted to shower and wash it all away.

 

Marty slipped away at the earliest opportunity and went to her room. She stripped off her bloody clothes and stood under a steaming hot shower, just letting the water wash over her. No one could hear her cry here or see the tears streaming down her face.

Bobby Hammond deserved to die. She certainly wasn't crying for him. The world was better without him. The kids would never have to deal with their crazy father again. Wasn't that best?

But it was still a sad ending to a sad story. Two young police officers had lost their lives trying to protect her and the rest of the folks here at the farm. Detective Hollister was seriously injured but expected to live. The kids had been through more than any two four-year-olds should ever have to endure. Her heart broke for their damaged pasts.

But they were starting new now. They had their Uncle Jake, a guardian who could provide them with a fine life, give them everything they needed. And most importantly, he loved them fiercely. She loved them, too.

And she loved Jake, too. There lay the rub. She hadn't planned on him coming into her life. She had never thought of giving up her nomadic lifestyle. She hadn't planned on getting involved in the music world, falling in love with a superstar. She would have to completely change her lifestyle if she were to stay here.

Is that even what Jake wanted? Did he want her permanently in his life?

Is that what she wanted?

Her adrenalin crashed and she let the pounding of the water on her back soothe her aching soul. She couldn't think anymore right now.

 

By the time Marty returned downstairs, the initial bedlam was dying down, but word had gotten out to the media. The phone was ringing off the hook, a TV news van was in the drive, and reporters were arriving from all over.

Not only was this a murder scene, it was the home of one of the most prominent men in country music. It had been big news when Jake's sister was killed by her husband and Jake got custody of the kids. This was the ultimate ending to the story and the press didn't want to miss it.

Marty was gazing out the front room window at the activity in the yard when Jake stepped up beside her.

"Look at them," Marty whispered. "They're like vultures circling a carcass."

"This is the kind of news they feed on."

"How do you stand it, Jake? How do you stand the lack of privacy, the constant intrusions on your life? This should be a private moment."

Jake snorted. "Maybe it should, but even if I were Joe Blow the reporters would be all over this. The fact that I am who I am is the icing on the cake. But I know it will blow over eventually and life will get back to normal. Some other poor sap will become the main attraction for their feeding frenzy."

Marty shuddered slightly. "I don't know if I could stand being watched all the time."

Jake draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Not all the time, Marty. Once I'm behind these walls, there are no prying eyes."

His voice was intimate, his eyes filled with meaning. Yes, there were times when his life was hidden from the public view. But what about the rest of the time? Even a simple trip to the zoo had ended in confrontation because of his celebrity. Once again a wave of despair washed over her. Could she really tolerate the lifestyle he lived?

Oh, sure, there were plenty of glamorous aspects to consider. The travel, the elite events, the red carpets. But what about the parts of life that really counted? What about intimacy and alone time? Would those be possible? Or would they also be fodder for the media?

She'd always been a private person. Did she want to live life in a fishbowl?