Shattered Vows

by Kaylea Cross

  Seizing his chance, Jase drove right at it.

  He jerked forward against the seatbelt as he rammed the back right end, pushing it into a hard spin. His truck swerved and skidded. He took his foot off the gas and turned the wheel to counteract it, wrestling with the big vehicle.

  It wasn’t enough. The front left bumper bounced off a tree with a loud crunch. He battled to keep the truck on the road, finally skidding to a stop on the shoulder, the left side wheels in the forest.

  Throwing it in park, he cut the engine and glanced out the back window. He could barely make out the Lexus maybe twenty-five yards behind him, its front end crumpled against a tree trunk.

  He undid his seatbelt and lunged across the cab to grab his pistol from the glove compartment. He shoved in a full mag and loaded a round in the chamber before turning off his dome light and opening the driver’s door, using it for cover as he stepped out into the darkness.

  His eyes adjusted in time for him to catch movement in the front of the Lexus.

  A door squealed open in the quiet, then the crack of gunshots ripped through the air.

  Bullets punched into his tailgate even as Jase ducked. Swearing, he scrambled back to crouch behind the hood. He could hear those assholes moving around back there, trying to come at him from either side.

  He waited there, poised, his ears attuned to every tiny sound, all his training kicking in. He was an expert at hunting the enemy. Even in the dark.

  The person on the right was coming closer. Jase darted around the side of the truck and fired twice in quick succession.

  A pain-filled cry filled the air as he ducked back behind cover. “You’re gonna die for that, asshole!” whoever it was yelled at him.

  “Sheriff and his deputies are on the way. Drop your weapons now,” Jase shouted back.

  “Fuck you,” the guy snarled. “You’re a dead man.”

  “Shut up,” Rafe snapped back. Jase couldn’t get a bead on him. To the left?

  “I’m fucking bleeding, man,” the other guy ground out. He was no longer advancing.

  “Shut up and help me take him out so we can get outta here.”

  Definitely the left. And neither of these assholes had any intention of surrendering or being arrested tonight.

  Jase swiveled on the balls of his feet and crept to the left, keeping the engine block between him and the shooters. Three shots cracked through the air, one round pinging off the front quarter panel.

  Jase raised his weapon and returned fire, then ducked back behind the front bumper. There was no painful cry this time. And he wasn’t even sure where the shooters were now.

  He waited there, poised in the darkness. Come on, Noah. Where the hell are you?

  Movement to the left again. He started to turn, then heard the telltale sound of someone trying to creep up at him from the right.

  He spun around and raised his weapon, tried to pinpoint the shooter’s location before darting out to fire.

  Hot, burning agony speared through him a split second after he pulled the trigger. He grunted and stumbled back, slapping a hand to his front where the bullet had torn through, high up on the right under his ribs. Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky against his skin.

  Through the haze of pain and shock he could hear the shooter moving back toward the driver’s side. Jase clenched his jaw and gripped the pistol with both hands, ready to make his final stand. It was either kill or be killed. And he wasn’t going down easy.

  He was bleeding bad. Already growing lightheaded.

  Molly. Have to end this for Molly.

  It was the only way to protect her and ensure she would be safe.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sucked in a ragged breath and struggled to his feet, standing behind the open door for a moment before he stepped out into the open. He saw the muzzle flash in the darkness as one of them fired on him.

  It was all he needed.

  Adjusting his aim, Jase stepped out from behind cover and squeezed the trigger twice.

  As if in slow motion he watched the man’s silhouette fall to the ground in the distance. The victim thrashed around weakly but didn’t get up, didn’t raise his arm to return fire.

  Jase struggled to stay on his feet. Silence reverberated around him, pulsing against his eardrums. Both shooters were now down, but maybe not out.

  He waited, the white-hot fire in his belly intensifying with every passing second. Blood continued to pour down his ribs and side, soaking his shirt and jeans.

  A wave of dizziness slammed into him. He sagged, grabbed for the top of the truck’s doorframe to steady himself. But he was too weak to hold on.

  His legs gave out. His knees hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that sent another shockwave of pain through his belly.

  He bit back a scream, thought for a moment he hadn’t been able to hold it back, then slowly realized it was the eerie, high-pitched wail of a siren echoing in the distance.

  Noah. Finally.

  Jase’s right arm trembled as he kept the pistol aimed at the downed men in front of him. And as the pain and dizziness continued to assault him, a wave of fear began to build deep inside.

  He knew enough about combat medicine, had seen enough men get gut shot to know he was in deep shit. His strength was already fading, his heart beating out of control no matter how he fought to slow it.

  He couldn’t catch his breath, the rasping sound of his shallow gasps grating on his nerves. Worse, he could feel the weakness spreading through him like a poison.

  No. Have to hold on.

  He fought it off, knowing if he succumbed to it, it would mean the end.

  Closing his eyes, he bit down hard on his back teeth and struggled to stay upright.

  Molly.

  He had to hold on for Molly.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Shite,” Aidan breathed as they rounded the bend and saw the carnage ahead.

  A dead deer lay in the middle of the deserted back road. Jase’s pickup was swerved off to the side of it, the Lexus maybe thirty meters behind it, its front end crumpled into a tree.

  He sucked in a breath when the cruiser’s headlamps revealed the rest of the scene.

  “Jase is down,” he bit out, then spotted the other two men lying on the ground between the Lexus and the truck. “They’re all down.”

  Noah swore and got on the radio to his deputies, who were still several minutes behind them. “I need two ambulances, stat. We’ll transport all three patients to the main highway and rendezvous with the crews there.”

  Aidan was already drawing his weapon as Noah sped up and skidded to a stop near Jase’s pickup, the cruiser’s high beams illuminating the scene. He jumped out and immediately took aim at the two men lying on the ground as he hurried toward Jase.

  “Weaver, it’s Mac. You with me, wee man?”

  “I’m…hit,” he said, and Aidan wasn’t sure what worried him more, the weakness in Jase’s voice or the lack of a comeback. Jase was still holding his weapon, his hand in his lap, his head bowed. The back of his shirt was soaked through with blood. A small pool of it gleamed in the light.

  “Where?” Aidan said, dividing his attention between the two downed men, ready to fire if one of them so much as made a move for their fallen weapons. One of them was on his back, groaning and moving around slightly. The other was crumpled on his side facing away from them, unmoving.

  “Gut.”

  The answer chilled Aidan’s blood. “Any other shooters?” he asked Jase, scanning for more threats.

  “No.” His voice was too damn weak.

  “I’ve got Jase. Both shooters down,” Aidan called to Noah over his shoulder, then holstered his weapon and rushed up to kneel beside his friend, setting a hand on his back. “Let me see what we’re dealing with.”

  The cruiser’s lights immediately showed the extent of the damage but he ripped Jase’s button-down shirt apart to get a better look at the wound. A bullet had pierced him just below the b
ase of his right ribcage and exited a few inches down on his side.

  Shite. “I’m gonna lie you down now, mate,” Aidan told him, taking Jase’s weapon from him before grasping his shoulders to lower him backward. Jase grimaced and allowed Aidan to help him back, the pressure on the exit wound hopefully slowing the bleeding in his side.

  “They dead?” Jase croaked out.

  “One’s not. Not sure about the other.” He didn’t care about them, he only cared about Jase.

  Noah came running up, dropped a med kit next to them and paused to set a hand on Jase’s shoulder. “You hanging in there, man?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Help’s on the way and I’ll be right back.” Noah raced off to check on the other men, pistol in hand.

  Aidan unzipped the med kit. The contents were sadly basic: some bandages and pressure dressings, gloves, scissors. No IV needles, no blood volume expander that might help stabilize Jase until they could get him to the nearest hospital. He needed surgery immediately.

  “Molly,” Jase groaned.

  “What about her?” He pulled out the bandages, not bothering to waste time putting on gloves and applied them to the entry and exit wounds. The shot was bad, the amount of bleeding telling Aidan there was significant internal damage.

  “She’ll be…safe now.”

  “Aye.”

  He could hear Noah talking on the radio. One shooter was unconscious but alive, and the other was wounded but in serious condition.

  Jase was bleeding bad, and there wasn’t much Aidan could do to help him. Finally, he picked up the sound of approaching sirens. Lights appeared in the distance a moment later. Three police cruisers speeding toward them.

  “Here’s the cavalry. We’ll get you loaded up and take you to the hospital,” he said, pressing down hard on the bandages to slow the bleeding. “Noah’s got ambulances dispatched already.”

  Jase didn’t answer. He closed his eyes, his face eerily pale in the beam of the headlamps.

  The deputies arrived within a minute. Noah appeared next to him. “He unconscious?”

  “No, but he will be soon. He’s losing a lot of blood.”

  “Let’s get him to the cruiser. Ambulance is six miles south of us.”

  Aidan took Jase under the shoulders while Noah took his legs and together they hustled him to the back of the cruiser. Jase groaned and twisted, his whole face tight with pain.

  “I know it sucks, brother,” Noah told him as they laid him down across the backseat. “It’ll be better when we get you to the ambulance.”

  Aidan let Jase go and was easing out of the door when a bloody hand shot out and grabbed his forearm. He looked down into Jase’s pinched face, his friend’s eyes haunted. “Tell Molly…”

  Oh, no. Screw that shite line of thought. “You tell her yourself.”

  Jase shook his head and dug his fingers into Aidan’s arm, his lips pressed tight together. “Tell… Tell her…I love her.”

  Aidan’s stomach dropped. Jase didn’t think he would make it. And if they didn’t get him to that ambulance in the next few minutes and start transfusing him, he wouldn’t.

  Aidan couldn’t risk letting Jase die without honoring this request. “All right, wee man,” he agreed. “I’ll tell her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Molly looked up when another nurse poked her head into the staff room. She’d been in here ever since calling 911 and reporting the incident. She’d been on edge the entire time, waiting for word from Jase or Noah about what was going on. But still nothing.

  “We’ve got multiple gunshot victims inbound, coming in two ambulances. Two critical, one serious. We need all hands on deck,” the nurse said, and ducked back out.

  Molly jumped up and hurried after her into the hallway, a sense of foreboding forming in her gut. They rarely got gunshot victims here. The last time she’d treated one was a few weeks ago when a local hunter had accidentally shot himself in the leg while cleaning his rifle.

  And it was way too much of a coincidence that the patients were coming in soon after Jase had chased after Rafe.

  It can’t be Jase.

  Pushing that disturbing possibility from her mind, she focused on her job, getting everything prepped and set up in anticipation of the ambulances’ arrival. She informed the senior surgical resident and called in the on-call surgeon, then helped get both operating rooms ready.

  Back down in the ER, her heart rate kicked up when she heard the distant, eerie echo of the sirens approaching.

  It’s not Jase. It’s not Jase. Someone would have called to tell her if it was.

  The paramedics opened the back of the first ambulance and began unloading both gurneys. Their faces were covered with oxygen masks. “Two adult males, approximately early thirties, GSWs to the upper torsos, and one to the abdomen.”

  Molly directed her team, organizing everyone and putting them into action. One team rushed the critical patient into the trauma room, while the other took the seriously wounded man into another treatment room. She turned around and hurried for the automatic doors just as the third victim came in.

  Her heart seized, the blood draining from her face when her eyes landed on the third gurney, Noah rushing alongside it.

  Jase.

  “Adult male, gunshot wound to the right upper torso,” the paramedic said. “Entry wound below ribcage, and exit wound a few inches lower on his back.”

  A strangled cry locked in her throat. She ran toward Jase, scanning his bloody chest and abdomen, trying to assess the severity of the damage but there were too many bandages in the way. His eyes were closed, his face way too pale beneath the oxygen mask.

  She grabbed his bloodstained hand, scared by how cold it was. “Jase. Jase, can you hear me?” She couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice.

  “He lost consciousness about a minute ago,” Noah told her, keeping pressure applied to the bandages on Jase’s belly.

  Oh God… From the placement of the bandages the bullet could have hit his liver, gallbladder or even his small intestine.

  “BPs ninety over sixty, pulse one-twenty,” the paramedic told her. Molly snapped back into work mode. She took in the information, grabbed the IV bag from him and began issuing orders to her staff.

  She called out to the remaining group of nurses, ordering them to start a transfusion, and helped rush him into the third room standing ready. They hooked him up to various machines to monitor his vitals. His blood pressure was dropping fast. Too fast.

  “Jase,” she said more sharply as she leaned over him, fighting tears. There was no time for CT scans or x-rays. They had to get the internal bleeding under control and transfuse him immediately or they would lose him.

  His eyelids fluttered. They opened slowly, his bleary gaze focusing on hers. “Moll,” he croaked.

  Thank God. “Yes, I’m here.” She squeezed his hand while another nurse started the transfusion, and fought to keep her voice and expression calm when she was anything but inside. “You’re in the hospital now. You’re going to be okay, but we need to get this bleeding stopped. The surgeon is scrubbing in right now and the team’s standing by in the operating room. You have to hold on for me.”

  He nodded weakly. “Told you…”

  She leaned closer, pulled the oxygen mask away from his mouth slightly to hear him better. “What did you tell me?”

  “Only way…you lose me is if…you walk away.”

  Molly bit the inside of her cheek and forced a smile. “That’s right, you did. And I’m never walking away from you again, so that means you have to keep your promise.” She stroked his hair back, wishing she could take away his pain and heal him right now.

  He returned the pressure of her grip, but it was weak. Too weak. “Not going anywhere…now that you’re mine.”

  “I know you won’t,” she told him. “And we’re going to take good care of you.” Fear flooded her but she mentally shoved it back and focused on what needed to be done to help stabilize him
.

  Someone brought another gurney in and she got the rest of the group ready to transfer him. “On three. One, two, three,” she directed, lifting him with the others and placing him on the new gurney. “OR team ready?”

  “Surgeon’s just scrubbing in now.”

  “Well tell him to get his ass in gear.” She glanced over at the BP monitor. “Let’s go.”

  She and another nurse rushed Jase into the OR where the surgical team was standing at the ready. As quickly as possible she brought them up to speed on his injuries and vitals while the anesthetist got ready to put Jase under.

  Molly stood in his line of vision, holding his hand. Looking down into his face, she forced back the sadness and fear. She wanted him to feel as calm as possible as he went under. “They’re ready to get started now, sweetheart.” She leaned down to kiss his forehead and straightened to give him a reassuring smile. “I love you. See you when you wake up.”

  His beautiful aqua eyes focused on her for a second, but he was already fading and she wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her declaration or not. His eyes closed and his hand went lax in hers.

  The surgeon took over, directing his team. “Friend of yours?” he asked, stepping up beside her, his voice and demeanor calm.

  She nodded and backed away from Jase, staring at his face as a sense of helplessness took hold. She didn’t want to leave, but he was in the best hands possible at the moment. She couldn’t do anything more to help him. “Take good care of him.”

  “We will.”

  It took an act of will to make herself turn around and leave the OR, but protocol dictated that she couldn’t stay.

  The double doors shut behind her.

  Alone in the hallway, the iron hold she’d had over her emotions ripped apart. Tears flooded her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she slid down the wall to sit on the cold linoleum floor. Sobs shook her, painful and raw.

  Why Jase? Why, after everything they’d gone through? When she’d finally made up her mind to give herself to him completely?

  She didn’t know how long she sat there before the tears stopped. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her scrubs and stripped off her bloodstained gloves. Jase might own her heart and be her priority, but there were two more patients downstairs and she was the shift supervisor.