by Cynthia Eden
“Why won’t you just die?” Blane’s voice was shaking. So was the hand that held the knife as it cut across her skin. “Shit, I was so afraid that you’d remember me. I met you before. Charles introduced us the same day I killed the bastard. He’d hired you to watch Shelly, but I swear, you’d fucking gotten some kind of crush on her. You were telling Charles that you wanted to meet her, that you wanted to explain who you were. You thought you were going to have some kind of chance with her, and that would have screwed up everything. So I had to act. I took out Charles. Devin went after you, and then Shelly…”
Her right arm lifted, moving slowly.
“Devin wanted to kill you right away, but I thought maybe I’d try my old idea of marrying you, Shelly. I mean, too many deaths would have looked suspicious. No one could connect John and Charles, but both you and Charles? Siblings dead within such a short period? That would have been too much, too soon. So I had to bide my time. I knew you’d come up here for the holidays. You always do. That was going to be my chance.”
“You…sabotaged my car, that first night…”
“No, that was Devin.” He laughed. “I sabotaged my own car because I knew no one would ever suspect me then.”
She hadn’t suspected him. Shelly felt his mouth against her ear as he said, “You were either going to fall for me, or you were going to die.”
“She’s not dying,” John snapped.
No, she wasn’t planning to die. Shelly had too much that she wanted to do in this world. Moving as fast as she could, not stopping to worry about what might happen next, she drove her right elbow back into Blane’s stomach, knowing she’d be hitting the same area she’d wounded earlier.
He let out a howl of pain, and she surged forward as his hold loosened, just for a moment, thinking this was her chance.
But Blane grabbed her. Caught her arm and nearly dislocated her shoulder as he spun her back toward him. He brought up the knife, drove it down at her—
“She’s not dying.” John’s words. Only this time, they were said right next to her. Because he was there. He surged in front of her and the knife hit him. It sliced over his chest, but he just drove out his fist, slamming it into Blane’s jaw.
Blane staggered back. The knife flew from his fingers. He scrambled, trying to get his gun.
But John was on him. John jerked the fellow to his feet, and John had Blane’s gun in his hand before the sheriff could even make another sound.
John pointed the gun right at Blane’s chest.
Blane stilled.
Shelly’s right hand was at her throat, trying to stop the blood that kept sliding down her skin. Her left hand hung limply at her side. She didn’t feel the pain from that wrist any longer.
“Do it,” Blane challenged John. “Pull that trigger. Let Shelly see you kill again. Let her see, let her know what she’s going to be sleeping with for the rest of her life.”
She knew exactly what John was and that BS crap Blane was spilling would never change her opinion of him.
John didn’t pull the trigger. He glared at Blane.
Blane started to laugh. “I’m going to tell the world. Tell them what a freak you are. You’re going to get hauled back to that lab. Be trapped there, kept as a prisoner—”
“No,” Shelly’s voice was quiet and clear. “You’re the one who will be a prisoner. You’re going to be locked up. Put away for the rest of your life.” She lurched toward John, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her. “And if you try to spread stories about him, who do you think will believe you? After all, no one can come back from the dead.”
Rage twisted Blane’s face. Such stark fury. “It should have been mine! The company, the money—all mine!”
“Don’t worry, Sheriff,” John told him coldly. “I’m sure you’ll get exactly what you have coming to you.” Then John drove his fist into Blane’s face again, knocking the guy out. Blane crumpled to the floor.
It only took John seconds to cuff him, using the handcuffs that had been on Blane’s belt. John secured the cuffs tightly in front of Blane’s body. And then John was reaching for Shelly. Pulling her into his arms. Holding her tight.
As tightly as she held him.
“God, baby,” John whispered. “That knife at your throat…” And he pulled back, his hands moving to gently touch her skin. “Shit, we need to get you to town. You’re going to need stitches.”
“I-I meant what I said.”
A furrow appeared between his brows.
“I love you,” Shelly told him.
His face softened. His eyes gleamed. John pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. So tender.
“We’re getting you to town,” he whispered against her mouth. “Then after you’re patched up, I’m taking you to bed. And keeping you in my arms until Christmas is over.”
Sounded good to her. She swallowed and forced her lips to curl. Her stomach was twisting and dizziness slid through her again as the adrenaline started to crash, but she didn’t want him to think she was weak so Shelly just stiffened her spine.
John grabbed Blane and started hauling him back outside. With her right hand, Shelly scooped up the gun that had been left behind, and she followed him out. John dumped Blane into the back of the sheriff’s cruiser. John left the back door open as he glared at the unconscious man.
As she stood on her porch, Shelly saw the bright glare of headlights coming her way. She frowned into the glare, but John didn’t seem worried. He turned toward the approaching vehicle, putting his hands on his hips.
The vehicle’s doors opened. Sawyer Cage and Jay Maverick jumped out.
“We got here as fast as we could!” Jay called. “Good thing we were near this way when Sawyer got your distress signal—”
“Behind you!” Sawyer bellowed.
Shelly’s gaze flew to John. No, behind John. Blane had jumped from the back of that cruiser. He held a gun in his still cuffed hands.
Back-up weapon. The bastard had a back-up weapon hidden on him.
Blane was aiming that weapon at John. At his head.
No! Shelly had a shot. She took it. The bullet blasted from the gun she held, and it found its target.
Blane’s mouth gaped open. His eyes whipped to her. He fell, collapsing in the snow, and the white soon turned to red beneath him.
Sawyer and Jay ran toward Blane’s collapsed form, but John—John hurried to Shelly’s side. She was still aiming the gun.
“Baby…” His voice was hoarse.
The light-headedness she felt got worse. Just how much blood had she lost? Shelly glanced down at her left wrist. Blood soaked her hand. And the porch beneath her was covered with a pool of her blood.
“I think…I do need those stitches…” Her body swayed.
John scooped her into his arms. “Shelly?”
Her eyes started to sag closed. She’d stopped Blane. John was safe. And she…
“Love you,” Shelly whispered, and she felt John’s arms tighten around her. He’d take care of her, she knew it. Things would be okay.
After all, they had to be. This was Christmas. She and John were just starting their new traditions.
Everything had to be okay.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“It’s hard when you love someone, and you’re like we are.”
John turned at the low words, and he found Sawyer Cage staring at him. He was in the hospital waiting room. Shelly was being stitched up. Sonofabitch—why hadn’t he realized just how much blood she was losing? Her left wrist had been badly cut. She’d literally been bleeding out, and he hadn’t even noticed.
She’d saved his life. She was his life. And I didn’t notice.
“We’re not quite human, any longer,” Sawyer continued, seeming to carefully choose his words. “And we think we can change everything out in the world. That we should be strong enough to always protect those we care about.”
John’s hands had clenched into fists. He paced in the narrow waiting room as snow fell outside. “I faile
d her.”
“She’s going to be okay. Jay bribed one of the nurses—Shelly is already being transferred to a room. Your lady will pull through just fine. They gave her some transfusions, stitched her up. She’s all right, I assure you.”
John immediately bounded toward the double doors, but Sawyer stepped into his path. John’s eyes narrowed. “Get the fuck out of my way.”
Sawyer just inclined his head and didn’t move the fuck out of John’s way. “You’re luckier than most. You have memories of her. And that’s good. You’re connected to her. You’re grounded. You have humanity because of her.”
He didn’t know what the hell the guy was going on about—
“I don’t have to worry,” Sawyer continued grimly, “that you’ll lose control. That you’ll give in to the darker impulses that thrive inside of the test subjects.”
Now John’s attention sharpened. “Sonofabitch. You came to Discovery because you thought you were going to have to kill me.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Kill…contain. Threat assessment was my number one priority. But you—you’re not a threat. You’re a man in love. A man who will do anything for the woman he wants.” He clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “You’re a lucky bastard.”
“No, you are. Because if you’d tried to kill me…” John bared his teeth in a cold smile. “Guess which one of us would have hit the ground first?”
But Sawyer just laughed. “I swear, I think we’re going to be good friends, man. And it’s nice to have someone else on the team.”
He hadn’t joined any team.
Had he?
Sawyer squeezed his shoulder. “Enjoy Christmas with your angel. I’ll spend my holiday with mine. And then we’ll talk. I truly think we can help each other.”
***
Shelly opened her eyes. A white ceiling was above her head, and the bitter scent of antiseptic stung her nose.
A hard, strong hand squeezed hers. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
Her head turned. She stared at the man beside her. The wrong man. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Jay flashed her a broad grin. “Not the fellow you thought to find at your bedside? What? I can care. I can be a good person.”
She snatched her right hand from his. “Where is John?”
“I suspect he is currently rushing down the hallway to find you. I got the jump on him because I had plenty of cash to bribe the nurses.” His grin vanished. “And since we both know how fast a super soldier can be, let’s just cut to the chase.”
Her heart seemed to lurch in her chest. “What do you want?”
“I want you to work your considerable charm on your lover. The guy would literally do anything for you, that’s obvious to anyone. Get him to see reason. Sawyer and I don’t want to hurt him. We want to help John.”
She actually did believe that.
“I want him to help me with Willow.”
The name had her tensing. And when she tensed, the machines around her began to beep way too fast.
Jay exhaled and glanced toward the door. “Willow is with me. She remembers nothing about her past. Unlike John, she didn’t have a connection with anyone—nothing that can jump start her memories. So I’d really like for John to see her. To talk with her. To tell us everything he can about the facility in North Carolina.”
“Why don’t you just go to the facility? Search it for yourself.”
“I would, but the place has been completely obliterated.”
Once more, her heartbeat increased.
“Just get him to talk with her,” Jay urged her as his gaze slid back to Shelly. “Get him to give us all a chance.”
“I’m not making any promises.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will…because you’d do anything for him, too, wouldn’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Must be nice, having that kind of bond.”
It was.
“I should get out of here,” Jay muttered. “Don’t really relish the idea of John taking a swing at me.” He gave her a little nod. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other. Or, at least, I hope we will.” He headed for the door.
“Stop.”
He did. Jay glanced back at her.
“I will talk to him because I think John deserves to know more about what happened.”
Relief flashed on Jay’s face.
“But I’m not making any promises. What John decides to do—that’s his decision, and I’ll support him.”
“Fair enough.”
She thought it was. “But I want something from you.”
His brow furrowed.
“I know about you,” Shelly added quickly. “Most of the world does. You don’t get to be Time’s man of the year without having people know some of your secrets.”
“I was man of the year twice,” he groused, looking a bit insulted.
She wouldn’t like him. Or…maybe she would. “You can do anything with a computer. Find anything.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I do have my skills.”
“Help me find out more about John’s past. Give me pictures. Give me moments that would matter to him.”
“Memories.” Now he appeared uncertain. “I can’t make memories—”
“Pictures, videos. Give me something that I can show him. It’s not fair that he lost it all.”
Jay’s gaze turned distant. “Willow did. You think I didn’t look for her past? I can’t find a damn thing for her. It’s as if she never existed.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll try, okay?” He reached for the door. “But like you said, no promises.”
Then he was gone.
The small hospital room seemed far too quiet. Shelly peered at her left wrist—it was covered in thick bandages. She still felt weak as all hell, and she noticed that an IV was feeding into her arm. Her hand lifted and she touched her neck—or rather, the bandages over her neck. Fear snaked through her. Just how much blood had she lost?
The door swung open. “Shelly.”
John was there. Rushing toward her. The machines around her went absolutely crazy once more as she reached for him.
He practically climbed into bed with her. Wrapped her tight in his arms. Held her so close. She could feel his own heart racing against hers.
“Scared the hell out of me,” John whispered. His mouth was near her ear. “Baby, please, leave the dying to me.”
No. She pushed against him. His head lifted. He stared into her eyes. “No one is dying again.” Shelly wanted to be clear on this point. “No one.”
His eyes were so bright. “You killed for me.”
Because she wasn’t so sure she could have lived without him. “I thought it was time we tried something new. Me…guarding you.”
John swallowed. “I love you so much.”
Only fair, really, because she’d given her heart and soul to the soldier who’d found her on a snowy mountaintop.
He kissed her. Softly. Tenderly.
***
“It’s Christmas.”
John’s eyes opened.
Shelly was perched in the bed beside him, her beautiful hair tousled, her eyes so deep and dark. A white bandage was still around her neck—and another, thicker one covered her wrist. She’d been released from the hospital on Christmas Eve. They’d gone back to the cabin. Sawyer and Jay had cleaned up the place, put everything back to normal before Shelly and John had arrived home.
Things won’t ever be normal. But Shelly seemed okay with his very non-normal self. In fact, he could see the love on her face right then.
“It’s time for presents.” Her smile stretched. “Come on, hurry up, sleepyhead. Presents are waiting downstairs. Presents should never have to wait.”
And she darted from the room.
He pulled on a pair of jogging pants and followed her down the stairs. There was no sign of the chaos that had happened before. Everything was back in place. Jay and his resources were definitely useful.
Shelly sat on the
rug near the tree. She’d already started a fire. He hadn’t even heard her when she’d been rushing around. A big, brightly wrapped package was cradled in her hands.
He stared at her a moment, lost.
“John?” Her smile slipped. “Is something wrong?” Then she bit her lip, and her gaze darted around the cabin. “We shouldn’t have come back here. I just—I wanted so badly to make Christmas work, and I’m sorry—”
He knelt in front of her. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re here. Everything is exactly right.”
Her smile came back, but it wasn’t as bright as before. Silently, John cursed himself. He never wanted to dim Shelly’s smile. Never.
“Open this first,” she urged him. Her fingers were shaking a bit as she handed him the package.
He’d wanted her to open a gift first. John hesitated. “Baby…”
“Please? It’s important.”
He’d never be able to refuse her anything. He opened the package, not tearing the paper but instead slowly pulling it away. Shelly had wrapped it, and he wanted to use care.
She laughed. “John, you’re supposed to rip a package open because you’re excited.”
He was staring at a white box. He opened the box and found photographs inside. Photos of a boy riding a red bike. Photos of the same boy standing in front of a Christmas tree, grinning as he looked up at a pretty blonde woman. The boy and the woman were both wearing reindeer antlers. As he stared at that photo, his chest seemed to grow heavy.
“That’s your mom,” Shelly said quickly. “There are photos of your dad, too. And a dog you had when you were a kid and—”
“How?” His voice was shaking.
“I asked Jay to look for them. The guy can locate just about anything. I mean, he tracked you, after all. And I was sure there had to be pictures of your life out there.”
He was staring at his mother. And in that picture, his mother was gazing down at the little boy—at me—with so much love on her face.
“You had a life, John. It was a good life. You were a good man.” Shelly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And you’re going to go on and keep living a good life.”