by Diana Duncan
Her heart stopped. She couldn’t move as everything lurched into slow motion.
Nobody deserved to die more than DiMarco. Nobody deserved the privilege of killing him more than Aidan. Yet she wanted to scream at him not to do it. Not for Tony’s sake. For Aidan’s.
She opened her mouth to cry out. Only a dry croak emerged.
Aidan jabbed the syringe downward. Her breath jammed in her lungs as the needle stopped. Hovered a millimeter above Tony’s skin.
Aidan stared at the terrified, frozen DiMarco. His hand trembled. His chest sawed with rasping breaths.
A hundred horrible years dragged past.
Then Aidan threw back his head and released a howl of rage. Teeth clenched, he stabbed the syringe all the way down.
Zoe went ice-cold. Her vision blurred. “No!” she screamed, a second too late as Aidan’s thumb depressed the plunger. Shaking and sick, a cold sweat broke over her skin.
She waited to watch DiMarco die.
Nothing happened.
She blinked to clear the haze of fear and pain. Stared. Blinked again. Aidan had rammed the syringe into the dirt beside DiMarco’s neck.
Aidan’s laser glare burned into the man who’d murdered his father. “I can’t kill you,” he growled. “It’d feel too goddamned good.”
DiMarco turned his head and saw Zoe holding the gun. He must’ve heard her cry of protest, because his nauseating, superior smile flashed. “Help your father, Francie. You’ll be rich and powerful beyond your wildest dreams. Take our enemy down.”
She moved closer. Stared into his black-as-midnight eyes. “Lesson number one. My name is Zoe, and I don’t give a flying fuck about money or power.” Her attention shifted to the men she’d disarmed to make sure nobody moved, then back. “Lesson number two. The cop who just spared your life is a hundred times the man you are. He commands respect. You inspire fear and loathing.” Her lip curled in disgust. “Lesson number three. Make no mistake. You are my enemy. If you were on fire again, I wouldn’t even piss on you to put it out.”
DiMarco’s face crumpled in stunned disbelief. “Y-you’d choose an O’Rourke over me?”
“Every damned time.”
Slow, steady applause jerked Zoe’s attention up.
Dorothy sauntered over, clapping. Her sorrowful eyes swept the downed men, then the cabins, where every door and window was tightly shut. “This little gal has more courage than all of us put together.” Her husky contralto rang in the clearing. “We’ve been too concerned about our own hides and our livelihoods to care about anyone else. And I’m just as guilty as all of you, if not more. I let Tony conduct his reign of terror and never once had the guts to stand up to him.” The redhead scowled at DiMarco. “You think you have our respect? She’s right ... we’re terrified of you. Well, never again.” She nodded at Zoe. “Her, I respect.”
“Cunts,” DiMarco spat. “How is it that O’Rourke got four loyal sons and I got stuck with lying, traitorous bitches?” He scowled at Dorothy, then turned his evil, black glare on Zoe. “You take after your mother, after all.”
“Yeah, I do.” She jutted her chin. “Much to my undying relief.”
“You would’ve liked being my daughter far more than being my enemy.” He stared past Zoe at the men she held at bay. His eyes glittered black ice. “Get your sorry asses up and kill her. Kill them all.”
Chapter 16
8:00 a.m.
Dorothy’s outraged shriek echoed in the clearing as she threw herself behind a boat. A gasp burst out of Zoe and a stinging rush of fear-laced adrenaline lifted the heaviness weighting her limbs.
Everything segued into fast forward.
Aidan snatched Tony’s pistol and pressed it to Tony’s temple. He yelled at the now upright men, “Freeze, or your boss dies!”
DiMarco shouted, “Carry out your orders! Kill them!”
Obediently, DiMarco’s crew scooped up their guns.
“Zoe, hit the dirt!” Aidan slammed DiMarco’s head against the totem pole and knocked him out. Surging to his feet, he sprinted toward her.
Her heart stuttered. Even knowing she was Satan’s spawn, her cop’s integrity compelled him to protect her.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Ignoring screaming bullets and Aidan’s hoarse demands for her to drop, she lurched backward until she stood beside him.
“Jesus Christ, Zagretti!” BOOM! He fired at the men taking cover behind trees, buildings, and boats ... but the shots went wide because he simultaneously yanked her behind the last totem pole with him. He flattened his spine against it with her in front of him, both the huge totem and his body now between her and the bullets. “Get your ass down!”
“No!” Her finger trembled on the trigger of her gun. “Two against four doubles your odds.”
BOOM! A bullet slammed into the totem pole, shaking it.
Aidan again returned fire, then tried to push her down, but she held steady. “They’re still shitty odds,” he snarled. “And we’re soft targets out here.”
BOOM! BOOM! Two more bullets streaked past.
She swallowed hard, steadying her hand as much as she could. “Then I guess this is where we go out like Butch and Sundance.”
Sudden savage barking erupted from the woods ... and a snarling German Shepherd K-9 charged out. The thwack-thwack of helicopter blades thundered overhead, kicking up a violent wind. Dust, leaves, and pine needles swirled in a choking cloud. Thick cables tumbled from the sky, dangled in the air. Half-a-dozen helmeted, Kevlar-suited SWAT officers rappelled to the ground.
Six knights in black body armor formed an impenetrable wall between Zoe and Aidan and their assailants. Six assault rifles bristled outward. Eight more SWAT officers burst from the woods and flanked the bad guys from behind.
Zoe’s knees wobbled. They’d sent Alpha and Bravo Teams. Hey, bad guys, how do you like those shitty odds?
“Police! Drop your weapons!” deep masculine voices shouted over the chopper’s roar.
Guns thudded onto the road.
“Eat dirt! Get on the ground!”
Sirens wailing, lights flashing, eight police cars and an ambulance boiled into the clearing. Riverside PD must’ve commandeered the ferry. The chopper landed in the middle of the street, rotors still spinning. The body-armored pilot, who couldn’t be anyone other than Grady O’Rourke, jumped out, rifle sweeping side-to-side.
The SWAT officers who’d emerged from the woods broke into teams of two. Searching house by house, they ordered the occupants outside and on the ground.
Zoe leaned weakly against the totem pole. Sometime during the chaos, Aidan had disappeared from behind her. She couldn’t fault him. She didn’t want to be in her own company, either.
Out of the noisy melee, a tall, helmeted, face-plated officer strode toward her. “Put down the weapon.”
She glanced at the pistol still clutched in her hand. Oh. Nerves jittered in her stomach. “I’m on your side.” Splaying her fingers, she carefully set the gun on the ground.
The cop flipped up his faceplate and Liam O’Rourke’s emerald eyes twinkled with reassurance. “Don’t worry, I never shoot reporters unless they’ve given me really bad press.” He held out a black-gloved hand. “It’s okay, Zoe. You can stand down.”
The ordeal was finally over. She and Aidan were safe! Dizziness assaulted her and the sky spun overhead.
“Whoa! Easy does it, Woodward.” Liam went down on one knee and strong arms supported her. Sitting in the dirt, she leaned against him as quick, gentle hands skimmed her body. “Were you hit?”
Beyond speech, she shook her head.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter.” He swept her into his arms and carried her away from the bedlam.
Zoe looked over his broad shoulder, searching for Aidan.
In the midst of the fracas, DiMarco had regained consciousness and was bolting ... he’d almost gained the deep cover of the woods! “Liam!”
He spun. “Wha— Shit!”
Then Aidan’s tal
l frame broke out of the melee, sprinting after DiMarco. Running flat out, he tackled him, taking him down hard from behind. Aidan’s brother Con moved into position and stood over DiMarco with a gun pointed at his head.
Seeing Con spiked a new wave of tormented guilt. Con must’ve searched for his brother around the clock—ruining his and Bailey’s wedding night. One more insult to add to the injuries Zoe’s father heaped on the O’Rourke family.
Aidan knelt on DiMarco, cuffed his hands behind his back, then yanked him to his feet. Scowling, he hustled him off.
“Way to go, SWAT,” she whispered. After one final, lingering look, Zoe resolutely faced forward. She choked back tears. The only thing she could do for Aidan now was avoid causing him more pain.
Liam turned and started walking again as his concerned gaze searched her face. “Sure you’re all right? It’s not like you to be so subdued.”
She couldn’t tell him her heart had been torn out of her chest. Or why. She nodded.
His arms tightened around her. “DiMarco is tagged and bagged. He’s history. You’re safe with us, now.”
If only that were true. Once the O’Rourkes learned how horribly she was entangled with DiMarco, they wouldn’t want anything to do with her.
Murphy trotted over to heel at Liam’s side. Liam glanced down and grinned. “Good boy, Murph. You made the bad guys crap their chaps.”
Liam carried her to the ambulance, where he carefully set her on a raised stretcher parked outside the vehicle. Murphy sat on his haunches and stared at Zoe, his big brown eyes somber. The dog’s eyes seemed wary, as if he were watching to make sure she didn’t hurt his master. She cast her eyes downward.
“Grady,” Liam called. “Medic!”
Grady sprinted over. “Zoe! Did you get hurt?”
She shook her head. They were being so kind. How would they react when they discovered her father had brutally murdered theirs?
Nausea churned inside her and she swayed.
Liam gently rubbed her back. “Grady will take good care of you.” He murmured to his brother, “I think she’s in shock,” then kissed her cheek. “Hang in there, Woodward. Murph and I are on cleanup detail, see ya later.” Liam strode off with Murphy ambling behind him.
No, he wouldn’t see her later. Or any time. She hung her head. She could never face the O’Rourke family. They’d despise her, and she didn’t blame them.
She despised herself.
“Let’s get you comfortable.” Grady draped a navy blue blanket around her shoulders. “Want to lie down?”
She shook her head again.
“Okay.” He shone a light in each eye for a look-see, then instructed her to follow his moving fingertip. He grabbed a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from inside the ambulance to check her pulse and BP.
Concerned gray-green eyes studied her skimpy clothing and the scrapes and bruises marring her body before flickering to her throat. He frowned. “Zoe, were you sexually assaulted?”
One more shake of her head.
“Aidan wouldn’t mark—” he muttered under his breath. “He doesn’t lose control—” He broke off and cupped her face in his hand, the tender gesture so reminiscent of Aidan’s, her tears threatened to burst free. “Don’t be afraid to tell me. I’m here to help you. Or I can find a female officer, if that’d be easier.”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s just been a hell of a night.”
“All right.” He patted her shoulder. “Relax, now. I’m gonna make you feel better.”
Nothing in the world could accomplish that feat, except maybe turning back the clock to yesterday. Before she’d found out vile, corrupted blood flowed in her veins.
Grady sent another officer to fetch her a hot cup of coffee and an energy bar. Praising her courage for taking a stand in the clearing with Aidan and telling her how badass she’d looked facing down DiMarco’s armed men, he gently cleaned and bandaged a cut on her leg, then dabbed antiseptic ointment on her scrapes and bruises. He rummaged inside the ambulance and found a pair of pale blue scrub pants for her to wear. The more tenderly he treated her, the more she felt like the dirt stains on her clothing.
Wyatt Cain, the hostage negotiator, arrived to ask if she was able to give a statement.
Yes, let’s get this over with.
Grady wanted to accompany her, but she resolutely refused. She was more than ready to escape gut-wrenching guilt.
She hugged the blanket around herself as Wyatt led her into a house at the end of the street. The big man with black wavy hair and cobalt eyes also treated her with exceptional gentleness as he jotted down her statement.
Aidan didn’t seek her out, nor did she expect him to.
She was the last person he’d want to see.
Zoe delivered her version of events in a flat monotone. Answered numerous questions. Clarified details. When she was done, she signed the statement and rose. One last task awaited. Clinging to the bare threads of her ragged emotions more tightly than the blanket around her shoulders, she stepped outside to complete her final mission.
The red sunrise had surrendered to a cool, overcast morning. Heavy cloud cover had rolled in, encompassing the clearing in gloom. Pandemonium still reigned. Uniformed cops mingled with SWAT teams, jogging from houses to squad cars and back. Voices barked orders and shouted questions. Stunned groups of handcuffed townspeople clustered in the street, guarded by armed officers. Several police vans had arrived to transport the prisoners. Blue-and-red lights strobed the clearing. She searched the sea of masculine faces for Liam, Grady, or Con.
For any O’Rourke except Aidan.
Finally, she spotted Grady sitting inside the chopper, scribbling on a clipboard. She hurried over.
He climbed out of the aircraft. “Hey, Zoe. How’re you feeling?”
Like Typhoid Mary, spreading death, destruction, and sorrow.
She hated to ask, but had no choice. “I need a favor.”
“Sure.” He smiled, flashing those killer dual dimples. “Anything for the woman who helped bring down that slime bag DiMarco.”
Zoe winced. She carried that slime bag’s DNA. And she’d said and done things in the past twenty-four hours that made her realize how formidable those repulsive genes were. Terrible things that made her doubt herself and everything she’d believed she stood for.
Her shaking fingers clenched painfully around the smooth red handle of Aidan’s Swiss Army Knife. She knew how much it meant to him, so she’d gone back to the scene of the fight and found it half-buried in the dirt.
Severing her last link to Aidan was more wrenching than she’d ever imagined. “Please give this to Aidan for me, and tell him ...” She swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to strangle her. “Tell him I’m sorry for everything.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I hope someday he can forgive me.”
“Zoe?” Grady’s dark brows drew together as he accepted the knife. “I don’t understand. Why—”
“You will,” she choked out.
Then she did the only thing she knew how to do.
She ran.
* * *
Three hours later, Zoe rested her cheek against the cool glass window as the bus chugged down the I-5 corridor toward the California border. Battleship gray storm clouds seethed on the horizon, mirroring her turbulent feelings. Unshed tears pressed hot, stinging weight behind her eyelids. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
After a fast shower in her apartment, she’d changed into a travel-comfortable turquoise peasant blouse, long turquoise-and-black print crinkled skirt, and matching flat turquoise sandals. Packing essentials and giving her landlord and employer notice had taken less than twenty minutes.
She was a pro at running.
She was going back to Mom. Though Mom wouldn’t recognize her, simply being with her would be comforting.
As if sensing her distress, Evander poked his head out of her survival bag—the original one that’d ripped and she’d hastily mended. She’d left the se
cond one behind on the island.
Along with her heart.
“Stay down,” she whispered, coaxing Evander back inside. When the ticket agent had informed her that the bus company didn’t allow animals onboard, she’d ditched Evander’s carrier and hidden him in her tote. So far, she didn’t have a seat-mate, and her secret was safe. If she got booted off for smuggling a stowaway, she’d walk to San Francisco. There was no hurry. She had no family waiting for her. No job.
She had nothing.
She’d started over countless times, in countless places. But now, only dark days and lonely nights loomed ahead. Only an aching void remained where her heart used to beat.
Mere hours ago, happiness had danced inside her after the wonderful night she and Aidan had shared. Possibilities that made her giddy with hope. Then, just when she’d glimpsed a bright, glorious future with the man she loved, the ugly truth about her parentage had brought the universe crashing down.
A too-cruel contrast.
She watched the dismal black clouds and tried to blank her mind. Don’t think about Aidan. His smoky brown gaze caressing her. His husky laughter curling around her heart. His strong, hard body gifting her with ultimate pleasure. Anguish coiled in her chest, restricting her breathing.
DiMarco’s coup de grâce had killed their relationship. Strangled her happiness. Obliterated her future. The pain would never go away. But in time, the grief might fade.
In a century or two.
The bus lumbered past towering pines, an agonizing reminder of her night in the forest with Aidan. She hoped Aidan’s pain would now recede. Perhaps bringing his father’s killer to justice and finding his father’s remains would finally bring him peace.
She owed him at least that much.
Uneasy murmurs and restless passengers behind her made her turn around. Blue lights flashed and a siren screamed as a police cruiser appeared in the distance. A blood red Corvette nosed into the left lane and sped past the bus, followed by the squad car. Slumping, she again faced front. Highway patrol after another lead-foot.
THUD, THUD, THUD. The rhythmic whop of helicopter blades echoed overhead. A chopper swooped over them. Dropping dangerously low, the aircraft zoomed down the freeway, then spun a one-eighty to face the oncoming bus. Everyone gasped.