TWENTY-TWO
Jack
There was a man on my estate. I could see him with the infrared heat-sensing cameras. He crept along on my surveillance monitor, something bulky held close to the right side of his body.
I had already called the police about the intruder, but that had been nearly an hour ago. The police were taking their time in arriving.
In the meantime, I watched the man and waited.
Clearly, this was either another paparazzo, a thief or a hit man from the Tempeste family. Without having a clear look at what he carried, it was hard to say. A camera? A knife? A gun?
My cell phone rang again. It had been ringing off and on. I didn’t want to answer it, as I didn’t want the man to hear me and come looking.
Better to wait for the police, if and when they arrived.
Thank goodness Chiara was with Tennyson.
How was I going to survive without her? The future stretched before me, so bleak and empty. Just seeing her face over video chat earlier in the day . . . talking with her about the black pages and listening to her quick insights, the sparkle of her that I missed so desperately . . .
A shudder ran through my phantom body.
The fleeting, digital contact brutally highlighted that I didn’t have all of her. I didn’t want this half-relationship. A virtual one.
Yet . . . my logic was sound. We were at an impasse, she and I. But that didn’t stop the situation from cutting like a thousand sharp blades.
I watched the man creep across the gravel beside the house. I used voice commands to switch the monitors as he moved around toward the rear door. The man paused every now and again, surveying his surroundings. Rain continued to fall, a light drizzle that made the night vision screens that much fuzzier.
Nothing the man did could harm me. I was planning on simply going into a wall and staying out of his way. Though the thought of him damaging my house or stealing things irked me. I had worked hard for this, blast it all.
Headlights pulled into the driveway.
The police had arrived.
The man reacted, whirling toward the sound before darting behind a hedge and out of view of my cameras.
Instead of pulling around to the front, the car kept going around the house, clearly intent on the resident parking in the back. Why were the police doing that? Did they know the man was back there, too?
As the car passed the front of the house, I got a clear side view.
Tennyson’s Jeep. Not the police.
Chiara’s tiny body in the driver’s seat, the steering wheel practically in her chest.
Fortunately, I had no blood in my veins, but if I had, it would have turned to ice in that moment.
Chiara
I swiped my tears away as I barreled toward Jack’s villa.
The vision wouldn’t leave me. Was my vision the future? The past? I had no way of knowing. I had to hear Jack, see him. Anything to make sure he was okay.
I had called over and over but Jack didn’t pick up.
Something had to have happened. Jack was always around.
Finally, I decided to just drive over.
Please let him be okay, I pleaded. I’ll promise anything. Just don’t let him be dead dead.
His villa was dark, a single light shining from what I knew was the kitchen. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. I pulled around the back of the house, killing the car lights.
I sat in the silent dark Jeep, staring at the house. Nothing moved.
Now what?
Was I overreacting? Jack was probably fine.
But . . . the house was so dark. Why would Jack want the house to be dark?
My Spidey senses were tingling. Something just felt off.
I bent over and grabbed one of the items Tennyson had lent me, namely a small-caliber pistol. It wasn’t the most powerful gun in the world, but it would give me some protection and I did know how to use it.
Holding the gun in my hand, I cautiously opened the Jeep door, purposefully keeping my body small.
Car headlights suddenly bounced up the drive behind me.
Jack
Why was Chiara here? Why?!
I flew out of the surveillance room. Through doors, through furniture, through walls.
Anxious to reach her before he did.
I didn’t know why this man was here, but Chiara needed to be warned. He could just be a pap, or he could be a professional assassin.
Dimly, I noted the crunch of more cars arriving. The sound of shouts. I raced out the back wall and onto the drive behind the house.
The scene seared into me, a frozen tableau.
Dark night glistening with rain.
A large graveled space for parking cars. Headlights swinging round.
The man leaning out of the bushes beside the house.
Chiara crouching down beside her Jeep, trying to see the newcomers.
The man raised his arm, a long barrel pointed at Chiara.
Not a camera. Not a knife.
A gun with a silencer.
Nothing between him and her.
She didn’t see him. She didn’t know he was there. She was too focused on the police cars pulling alongside hers.
She was going to die.
I was going to witness her death.
No. Never.
Not on my watch.
Chiara
I tucked myself beside the Jeep, assessing my options.
A quick glance at the cars arriving confirmed they were the police. My heart leaped into my throat. What had happened? Who had called them? Was Jack already hurt?
That sixth-sense kicked in again, ordering me to pay attention to the shadows. Keeping to my crouch, I spun in place, surveying the dark.
A faint glint caught my eye.
A shadow figure crouched beside a hedge opposite the gravel parking area. A gun held in his hand.
My reflexes and training asserted themselves. I flattened myself against the Jeep, presenting a smaller target, while simultaneously, I raised my own gun.
Something flickered in my peripheral vision. I ignored it.
The real threat was right here in front of me.
Jack
Staring at the man tucked into the shadows, I reacted instinctively, pushing myself fully into this world.
Fire licked my skin, the very flames of Hell itself. Searing pain shattered through me.
Sensation washed in behind it. The chill of the evening rain. The smell of wet earth.
Everything happened at once.
Chiara swung around, her head finally seeing the man and his threat.
The man sighted along the barrel of his gun.
Chiara raised her own weapon.
Car doors slammed shut, voices shouting in Italian.
No one would reach Chiara in time. She was too exposed, plastered against the side of the Jeep. A sitting duck for this unknown gunman.
“NO!” I shouted, throwing myself between him and her.
I drew the man’s attention at the last moment, his gun bucking upward, sending his aim wide.
Or . . . at least I thought it did.
Dimly, I registered the phew of his bullet. But there was another sound in there. Another sharp bark of gunfire. Something struck me, throwing me to my knees.
“JACK!” Chiara screamed. “No!”
Agony wracked me. I fought to hold myself in this world . . . but the pain was too intense. I was slipping away.
“Police! Halt!” An unknown voice shouted. A swirl of bodies rushed past me.
Suddenly, Chiara was before me. Her small hands touching me, pressing against my chest, easing me to the ground. The gravel was cold and unforgiving.
“Are you hurt?” I gasped, pushing her hands away, trying to see her.
“I’m fine, you big idiot.” She was crying. Sobbing. “You’re the one bleeding.”
I was bleeding? That wasn’t surprising.
“I SHOT YOU!” she screamed. “How could you let me do that? Why would you jump in front of my bullet like that? I was trying protect you from being hurt!”
Pain fogged my brain. The burning sensation tore through me. I couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Always s-said you’d be the death of me.” In true British fashion, I went for dark humor.
“I shot you,” she continued to sob as she fumbled with my shirt, trying to find the wound.
I struggled to focus on her, wanting to feel the warm softness of her skin one last time.
My body trembled violently, the cold seeping deep. Darkness clung to the edges of my vision. I needed to release my hold on this world.
But I didn’t want to go. Not yet.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“N-N-NO! You don’t apologize to me! I shot you. D-don’t you dare die on me!”
“Already halfway there, darling.”
“Stop joking! Stupid, stoic, BRITISH idiot!”
I smiled. Damn but I loved this woman.
Agony flared. I choked.
Chiara clutched my head with both hands. Her warm mouth moved over mine, breath mingling.
She kissed me. A soft pressing kiss. Another. And another.
I wanted to stay. I desperately did. But . . . I wasn’t strong enough. Weakness pulsed through me. My hold on my body slipped.
Darkness descended.