By Honor Bound

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  He turned and began roughly dragging Pru through the darkness toward her bedroom.

  Suddenly from behind them came a loud crash as the door was forced open and Micah came hurtling through the doorway.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating a gun in his hand. At the same instant, he caught sight of Pru in the arms of her attacker.

  As the lightning streaked away, the room was once more plunged into darkness.

  The stranger’s voice was low and menacing. “Drop the gun or I blow her away.”

  “Micah—” Her cry was cut off abruptly as she felt the cold steel of a pistol jammed painfully against her temple.

  “Are you all right, Pru?” Micah cursed the darkness. He was a crack marksman. If there were any light at all, he could take out the gunman without endangering the woman in his arms. But with only the occasional burst of lightning, he knew he had no chance.

  “I’m…all right, Micah.” She sucked in a breath as a hand closed over her mouth.

  “You heard me, hero. Drop the gun or the woman buys it right here.”

  Without a word, Micah tossed aside his weapon. As soon as his pistol clattered to the floor, he heard a string of oaths and an explosion of gunfire from across the room. In the next instant he felt the pain, sharp and swift, as the bullet struck him with such force he was driven backward against the wall. For a moment he saw stars and had to struggle to remain standing. If not for the wall, he would have fallen. But he knew it was only a matter of time before his legs would refuse to hold him.

  In some distant part of his mind he heard Pru’s scream. For Micah, that was the worst part of this. Not the pain, though it seemed to be a replay of the agony he’d suffered in the past. It was the knowledge that he was helpless to save the woman he loved from this madman.

  The woman he loved.

  It shook him to his very soul to know that he might never have the chance to tell her just how much she meant to him. His damnable code of honor had kept him from speaking the truth when he’d had the opportunity.

  As blood streamed from his chest, his legs weakened, and he slid to the floor.

  “Micah.”

  From somewhere nearby he heard Pru’s voice. A voice on the edge of hysteria. The pain grew, and he struggled just to remain conscious. Conscious and alive. For he knew that as long as he had a breath left in his body, there was still a chance to divert the stalker’s attention long enough to get Pru to safety.

  That was all that mattered now. His own life meant nothing to him. He would gladly die, as long as it meant that Pru could live.

  As he faded in and out of consciousness, he heard Hoxley’s voice, high-pitched with elation. “Now, Allen Street is going to learn an important lesson. I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. This time, when I’m through with his sweet little daughter, he’ll wish he’d paid more attention to Calvin Hoxley.”

  “You’ve killed him.” Pru shrugged off the hand that covered her mouth and began weeping.

  Though it was too dark to make out more than a vague shadow, Pru could see that Micah had slumped to the floor. She’d seen, too, in that one blinding flash of lightning, blood pouring from his chest.

  So much blood. A torrent of it.

  This was all like some horrible nightmare. Worse, by far, than any of her childhood fears. Suddenly her own life paled into insignificance. It no longer mattered if she lived or died. Micah was dead. This courageous, noble man, who’d already put his life on the line before, was now dead because of her.

  She turned to her stalker. In the occasional flash of lightning, she could see his eyes, bright with madness. Could see long dark hair that fell to his shoulders, and a bushy beard that hid the lower half of his face.

  She lifted her chin. Her voice trembled, though she no longer cared if he could sense her fear. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, too.”

  “Oh, I intend to. But not until after—” His words were cut off as twin beams of light pierced the darkness.

  “Here you are, Prudence, dear.” Octavia and Odelia Vandevere stepped into Pru’s apartment. Each of them was carrying a flashlight.

  “That thunder sounded as loud as a cannon. Did you know your door was wide open?” Octavia flashed the light in Pru’s face, then turned it on the man standing beside her. “I don’t believe we’ve met your friend, dear.”

  “Oh, look, Sister.” Odelia’s wispy little voice lifted in surprise when she scanned the room and her light found Micah, sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall. “It’s that handsome Micah Lassiter. Whatever are you doing over there, young man?”

  “Is that…” Following her sister’s lead, Octavia beamed her light on Micah and took a step closer. “Is that blood?”

  “I’m afraid so.” He was grateful when, in order to make her way to him, she was forced to lower her flashlight from his eyes and trail it across the floor.

  “Oh, Micah.” Across the room Pru let out a cry. “You’re alive.”

  “Now, why wouldn’t he be alive, dear?” Odelia turned her light on Pru, causing her momentary blindness.

  Pru lifted a hand to her eyes to shield them. As she did so, she realized that the man beside her must also be blinded by the sudden light. She took that moment to shove him roughly aside. He was so startled, the gun dropped from his hand. Hearing it clatter at her feet, Pru fell to the floor, feeling wildly around in hopes of locating it before he did.

  Her fingertips brushed something cold. Before she could pick up the gun, Calvin’s hand was there, snatching it away.

  “Prudence, dear.” Octavia’s voice lifted in alarm as she flashed the beam of light over Calvin Hoxley. “Are you and your friends playing some sort of parlor game? I believe you should tell us just what this is all about.”

  “It’s about an eye for an eye.” Calvin Hoxley shoved Pru aside, and lifted the hand holding the pistol. “Allen Street’s daughter is about to atone for his sins. As for you two old biddies and our hero over there—” he gave a shrill laugh “—let’s just say your timing was really off. This isn’t going to be your lucky day. But frankly I don’t care how many I take out, as long as Allen Street’s daughter is the one who suffers the most.”

  As he took aim at the two old women, Pru stepped in front of them. “They have nothing to do with this. I won’t let you shoot them.”

  His eyes narrowed in absolute disbelief. “You won’t let me? You won’t let me?” Marching forward, he shoved her roughly out of the way. “That’s another thing you’ll pay for, as soon as all this baggage is out of my way.”

  “No!” Enraged, Pru ran at him, shoving him aside just as he fired. The bullet went wild, landing in the ceiling.

  He brought his arm in a wide arc, catching her on the side of the head with the gun, sending her sprawling. Seeing it, Octavia and Odelia were horrified. Without a thought to their own safety, the two old women attacked him with the only weap ons they had, hitting him about the head and shoulders with their flashlights.

  “Why, you old…” He slashed out, sending Octavia reeling backward. As she fell, the flashlight slipped from her hands and went dark.

  At once, her sister let out a cry and dropped to her knees beside her, letting her own flashlight fall to the floor.

  The room was once again plunged into total darkness.

  Hoxley felt around the floor until he located one of the flashlights. When he flicked it on and pointed it at the spot where Micah had been, he found it empty.

  “Looking for me?” Though Micah’s right arm was useless from the bullet to his shoulder, he managed to catch the stranger with a blow to the throat that had him gasping for breath. The shock of it caused the gun and flashlight to fall from Hoxley’s hands before clattering to the floor.

  “Now you’re a dead man.” Calvin wheezed out a breath and caught Micah with a fist to the midsection that had him doubling over. He followed that with a series of blows to the back of the head that sent Micah slumping to the floor.

  Micah knew he’d lost too
much blood to let the fight drag on. A few minutes more and he’d be as helpless as a baby. Calling on all the strength he had left, he got to his knees.

  “You want more?” As Calvin brought his booted foot up, Micah caught it, sending him sprawling.

  Before he could recover, Micah was on him, his hands closing around Hoxley’s throat until he went limp.

  Micah rolled aside, struggling for breath. The effort had cost him dearly. Blood flowed like a river from his wound.

  As he took in a deep breath, he heard Hoxley’s voice, high-pitched, agitated. “You lose, hero.”

  Micah heard the click of the trigger as Calvin’s finger closed around the gun.

  Before he could squeeze off a shot, he slumped down to the floor. Pru stood over him holding the remains of a crystal vase, which she’d broken over his head.

  She tossed aside the shards and picked up the gun in her trembling fingers. “You so much as move, and I’ll fire this.” She took a deep breath. “And believe me, I don’t know the first thing about guns. So, if it’s true what they say about beginner’s luck, I wouldn’t count on walking away if I were you.”

  At that moment a dozen men burst into the apartment, guns drawn.

  The head of the FBI team was shouting orders to the others. Seeing them, Pru was rocked by waves of relief as she handed over the gun before dropping to her knees beside Micah.

  “What took you so long?” he demanded of Will Harding.

  “Sorry. We’ve been monitoring everything from our van down the street. At first we believed it was just the lack of power that had you not answering our calls. When we realized you weren’t in your apartment, we figured out that our guy must have used the cover of the storm to slip past us.” He shook his head at the amount of blood. “Hold on, Lassiter. We’ve got the medics on their way.”

  As he turned away, Pru touched a tentative hand to Micah’s cheek. At first she was almost afraid to touch him. Afraid if she did, she would cause him even more pain. “Please promise me you won’t die.”

  “I…promise.”

  “Are you sure, Micah? There’s so much blood.” She couldn’t seem to stop touching him. His face. His hair. Without realizing it, she was cradling him in her arms. Tears streamed down her face, nearly blinding her. She wiped them away, leaving bloody smudges over her face.

  “Shh.” He lifted a hand to her cheek. “It’s all…over now. You were so amazing. So brave.”

  “Brave?” Her tears were falling faster now. She couldn’t seem to stop them, or the tremors that seemed to have taken over her entire body. “I was absolutely terrified. Not for me. But for you. And for the poor Vandevere sisters.”

  “You were worried about us? Isn’t that sweet, Sister?”

  Pru and Micah looked up as Octavia and Odelia stood over them.

  Pru wiped at her tears. “Are you hurt, Octavia?”

  “Not a bit, dear. I just bumped my head. That nice gentleman over there told us he’s with the FBI. Sister and I haven’t had this much excitement since the time we invited that handsome circus performer to one of our little parties. I believe that was in 1943, wasn’t it, Odelia?”

  Her sister smiled and nodded. “His outraged wife showed up and started shooting up Papa’s collection of porcelain figurines.”

  Octavia giggled like a girl. “Nobody had told us that the pretty little thing in his show, who used to shoot cigarettes out of his mouth while blindfolded, was his wife. As I recall, he was quite pale by the time the police left, and he was forced to go home with her. Come to think of it, he had a right to be.” She lowered her voice. “Is it true what that young man over there told me? You were being stalked by that nasty man?”

  Pru nodded, wondering how these two could remain so calm through such a terrifying scene.

  “Wait until Sister and I tell our friends about this.” Octavia caught her sister’s hand. “Come, Odelia. I think we should go up to our apartment now that the power is back on. We’ll want to look our best in case there are reporters and television cameras here later.” She gave a quick glance at the cluster of men gathered around the handcuffed attacker. “I’m glad you gave that disgusting man his comeuppance. He had absolutely no manners at all.”

  As they walked away, an emergency medical team arrived, administering a sedative to Micah before lifting him onto a stretcher. Seeing the way he winced in pain, Pru was suddenly transformed into his fierce protector, holding his hand, smoothing the damp hair from his forehead, admonishing the medical team to treat him with more care.

  Will Harding walked over to say, “I just spoke with your father, Miss Street. We have orders to take you to the airport at once. His plane is on the way.”

  She was already shaking her head firmly, and moving alongside the stretcher. “You can tell my father that I’m going with Micah to the hospital. And I have no intention of leaving until he does.”

  As the sedative began to fog his mind, Micah found himself wondering what had happened to that shy little recluse he’d been hired to protect.

  He linked his fingers with hers and gave her one of those heart-stopping grins. “Have I told you I’m crazy about you, Miss Street?”

  “You are?” That brought a smile despite her tears.

  “Uh-huh. Know why?”

  “Why?” Since his voice had dropped to a whisper, she was forced to bend down to hear.

  He brushed his mouth over hers, sending her heart on a quick hard tumble. “Because you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.” He struggled to keep his focus, though it was getting more difficult with every passing minute. “Know something else?”

  “What?” She could feel the tears starting again, harder than ever now, and made no effort to brush them away. These were the happiest tears she’d ever shed.

  He felt as if he were flying as they lifted him into the ambulance and she climbed in right beside him. “You make one hell of a tough little bodyguard.”

  It was, she thought, the nicest compliment anyone had ever paid her. And when he woke up, she’d return the favor. Maybe she would even tell him exactly how she felt about him. But for now, she was content to hear the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. And to know that the man she loved more than life itself was still right here beside her, where he belonged.

  Epilogue

  “He’s coming.”

  At Bren’s shout, the entire Lassiter family streamed out of the house and stood waiting anxiously on the porch.

  “Watch out for your sore ribs, bro.” Cam laughed as he turned off the ignition. “The gang’s all here and I’m betting you’re about to be hugged to death.”

  Micah wasn’t listening. His attention was snagged by the candy-apple-red sports car parked in the driveway. He walked up the steps and was immediately surrounded by his family and thoroughly hugged and kissed. When they finally stepped aside, he saw Pru standing to one side, her hands clasped nervously together.

  He paused, unwilling to touch her. If he did, he might not be able to stop. He kept his tone deliberately bland. “I thought you were in Seattle.”

  “I was. My father needed to see for himself that I was all right.”

  “I’m surprised he let you leave. I figured by now he’d have you under lock and key.”

  “He tried. But I think he’s finally coming to the realization that I have the right to my own life.”

  “Well,” Kieran led the way inside, “it’s good to have all our chicks back home, isn’t it, Katie girl?”

  Kate laughed and looped her arm through her daughter’s. “It is indeed.”

  As Cam trailed the others he lifted his head. “Do I smell pot roast?”

  “You do.” Kieran Lassiter was grinning from ear to ear. “I thought Micah’s first day home from the hospital called for something special.”

  Micah forced a smile as he headed toward the kitchen. Once inside he eased himself into a seat at the trestle table and watched a scene that had been playing since his childhood. Kieran was carving t
he roast beef. Kate was removing a pan of perfectly browned biscuits from the oven and arranging them in a linen-lined basket. Bren stood at the mixer, mashing potatoes with milk and butter until they were smooth as silk. Cam was busy opening a bottle of wine. And there, working in their midst, as though she’d been doing it all her life, was Pru, stirring gravy at the stove, before pouring it into the ancient gravy boat that had once belonged to his grandmother.

  Watching her, he felt a sudden, unexpected jolt in the heart.

  Cam began passing out glasses of wine. When everyone had one in hand he lifted his. “Here’s to Micah and Pru. According to a couple of old women who live in Pru’s building, these two fought the enemy like a couple of marines.”

  Pru put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear. The Vandevere sisters will tell everyone in Washington.”

  “They already have.” Bren couldn’t help laughing at the frown on her brother’s face. “You know how Washington loves its gossip. Octavia and Odelia have become the darlings of the media. Not to mention being prized guests at every party in Georgetown. And the two of you have become their favorite topic of conversation.”

  Micah glanced at Pru, who looked thunderstruck. “So much for your anonymity.”

  Kieran cleared his throat. “You could always change your name, lass.”

  Instead of the expected blush, Pru merely smiled. “I’ve been thinking that very thing, Pop.”

  Her words had Micah’s frown deepening. Pop? She was beginning to sound like one of the family. Not that he wouldn’t love that. But it was nothing more than a foolish dream.

  Who would have believed that a simple assignment would turn into something so complicated? The woman he’d been hired to guard had somehow managed to sneak past all his defenses, until she’d become the great love of his life. That ought to be simple enough. But the fact that she was the daughter of one of the richest men in the country made the entire situation impossible.

  His stay in the hospital had given him plenty of time to take a cold, hard look at himself and realize that he had nothing to offer a woman like Prudence Street. It hadn’t been an easy decision. But he knew, for her sake, he needed to take a step back and give her the space she needed.