by JC Grey
‘But how? I . . . I don’t understand. Tell me,’ Blaze begged.
‘You!’ she snarled. ‘I thought Rick really liked me, even if he did go on about you. At first it was just “Blaze did this today, Blaze was so good today, Blaze wore this, Blaze smiled at me.” It made me mad but I thought he’d get over it once the movie was done.’
Her voice sharpened. ‘But he didn’t. It was worse. He couldn’t see you every day so he spent all his time reading about you on the internet and in magazines. We were going to move in together but suddenly he didn’t want to talk about that any more; he didn’t want to date me.’
‘Emily,’ Blaze pleaded. ‘Please believe me, I wasn’t interested in Rick. I’d made that clear to him on set.’
‘I know!’ Her face contorted. ‘But he saw it as a challenge. He said he could make you want him.’
‘Emily, I’m so sorry,’ Blaze said, knowing she had to keep Emily’s attention on her.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Mac was tending quietly to a groaning Rowdy.
Oblivious, trapped in her own world of pain, Emily continued to spew her bitter story. ‘I told him that you were a slut. Everyone knew you’d slept with all your leading men. And the next thing I knew he’d made up a story about some group-sex thing that you and he were involved in, and was talking about how some guys were going to back him up. They’d look like sex gods, he said.’
‘But he must have known I’d just deny it.’
‘He just wanted you to pay him some attention!’ she screamed. ‘That was all! He thought you’d be angry. That you’d contact him, or your lawyers would. He didn’t care about what happened to him or to me, just so long as you knew he existed.’
‘That . . . that must have been terrible for you,’ Blaze said as Mac helped Rowdy into the driver’s seat of his ute. ‘Why didn’t you tell someone? Or leave him?
‘Because I love him,’ Emily whispered. ‘I pleaded with him and told him I loved him, and you know what he said?’
Blaze shook her head.
‘He told me he’d never even liked me. He only dated me because I . . . sounded a little like you. How do you think that made me feel?’
Blaze took another step forward, trying to make a connection. ‘He did us both wrong,’ she said. ‘You and me.’
‘But you didn’t care what anyone said,’ Emily yelled, the gun shaking in her hands. ‘You just carried on like nothing had happened. You didn’t even care enough to take legal action.’
‘That’s not true. It hurt to hear those things said about me. It was humiliating, Emily. Every day, I had to listen to the whispers, the innuendo. Believe me, I cared.’
But Emily was now so immersed in her private world of misery that she seemed almost oblivious to her audience. ‘You had everything: looks, talent, success. All I had was Rick and then you took him, too!’
It was pointless to repeat that she had never wanted him, so Blaze just listened, aware that Mac was binding Rowdy’s wound, relatively safe behind the door of Rowdy’s ute.
‘And I wanted you to know how it felt to lose someone.’ Emily seemed to gather her control. ‘I wanted you to feel it . . .’
Blaze stared at her as realisation dawned. ‘You mean . . . you . . . Mitch.’
Emily smiled coldly. ‘He was easy. I waited until you’d left. He opened the door, thought you’d gone back for something. After it was done, I even found a lucky sample you’d left behind, especially for the cops.’
‘The DNA on the knife,’ Blaze said.
‘A hair from the sofa. It was simple.’
Blaze met Mac’s eyes, ignored his silent message to run for the truck, and turned her attention back to Emily. She deserved the truth. ‘You killed Beth Laurensen, too.’
‘I was aiming for you. It should have been you, and then it would have been over. But it didn’t work out, and you ran away from the mess you’d made. You thought you’d be safe here.’
‘Peggy Fairchild, Paddy. That was all you, wasn’t it?’ Blaze closed her eyes, knowing now it was Emily she’d seen at the waterhole that terrible day. The figure in white; not her ghost child but a woman taking revenge on everyone except the person who was really to blame.
Emily shrugged. ‘I would have liked to have finished off that dumb dog before doing you. But your boyfriend will do just as well.’
‘Wait! Rick wouldn’t want this!’ Blaze cried.
‘It’s proof of my love.’ She raised the gun above the line of Blaze’s shoulder. ‘Hold it right there, lover boy.’
Mac turned from the ute. ‘Get out of here, Rowdy,’ he said, shutting the door and putting his hands in the air. The engine fired.
‘No one moves!’ Emily shrieked, redirecting the gun towards Rowdy in the cab. Mac stepped into her line of fire. ‘Get out of the way!’
‘Let him go,’ Mac said. ‘You don’t need him. You have me. You have Blaze.’
Blaze moved, forcing Emily to turn her attention from Mac. ‘No, Mac. Get in the ute. Go now. Go with Rowdy.’ She looked at him. ‘It’s me she wants.’
‘Stop! Stop!’ Emily screamed, her face contorting as if she sensed her control of the situation slipping. ‘I’m in charge.’
Mac ignored her. ‘I’m not leaving you, honey. Rowdy, go. Tell Ryan we need help!’
‘I said stop!’ Enraged, Emily jabbed her weapon towards Mac even as Rowdy gunned the engine and his ute shot out of the barn. ‘You do as I say!’
Mac moved towards her at the very moment Blaze saw Emily’s hand jerk. He cried out and his body slammed into her, smacking her to the ground so hard the breath left her body. Winded, she lay on the ground, his weight on hers, aware of a crazed Emily racing past them and out of the barn after Rowdy, firing at will.
Desperately, Blaze pushed Mac aside in order to wriggle free and felt something sticky on her hand. Lifting it, she could see blood. It seemed to be coming from his shoulder.
‘Mac!’ she whispered, crouching over him. ‘Mac!’
He groaned and she could have wept with relief as he rolled over, clutching his shoulder. Emily was still outside, raging at the departing ute, but in a second she would be back to finish them off. Blaze had to do something.
‘The rifle,’ Mac murmured, his face white.
Looking around, she spotted it and scooped it up. Wielding it like a club, she reached Emily just as the woman turned.
‘I’m coming for you, bit— Ah!’ Emily screamed as Blaze brought the butt of the rifle down, catching the side of her head. Reeling away, Emily dropped to her knees, clutching her head.
Not waiting to see the damage she’d inflicted, Blaze raced over to Mac, who was trying to stand.
‘Blaze?’ he groaned as blood dripped from his shoulder.
‘You’ve been hit, I think. Can you stand? We have to get out of here now!’
It took a few minutes, but finally he was on his feet, holding his shoulder as they made for the doorway.
They were past Emily’s slumped body and almost in the clear when the woman shouted groggily from behind them, almost incoherent with frustration.
‘No, no! It wasn’t meant to be like this! Wait! I have to show Rick how much I love him!’
Blaze stumbled on, expecting to feel a bullet slam into her back at any moment.
‘Just keep moving,’ she breathed to herself as well as Mac. ‘Just keep moving.’ ‘Stop!’ shrieked Emily, close behind them. ‘I want him to know that I’d do anything!’
Stumbling to a halt, Blaze turned just as Emily lifted the gun to her own temple.
Aghast, Blaze surged towards Emily, hands outstretched to stop her. For a brief moment, the woman’s blue eyes looked straight into Blaze’s, almost as though surprised. Then she fired. The gun clattered as she dropped it, her eyes went vacant, and she crumpled to the ground, beyond all help.
But Mac wasn’t. Summoning the last of her strength, Blaze went to him and together they stumbled towards Mac’s truck. A minute later, she heard b
arking and saw Paddy, standing in Mac’s truck, yapping encouragement.
Her knees buckled but she managed to lower Mac against the wheel. She found the bottle of water Mac kept in the car, cleaned the worst of the blood from his shoulder and wrapped it with a strip torn from her shirt. From what she could see, it was a bad gash but no bullet was lodged inside. She tried to make a call but got the ‘network busy’ message. Then, exhausted, she collapsed to her knees beside Mac, looking up at the burnt orange sky, feeling the midday heat roll through her.
Paddy sat, ears perked. Just as she was about to summon the energy to get herself and Mac into the truck and drive to Meriwether, she heard the faint wail of sirens in the distance.
She felt Mac shift beside her, and reach out a hand to take hers. ‘Rowdy must have called the cavalry,’ he said.
‘Yes. How’s the shoulder?’
‘I’ll survive.’ He sighed. ‘So after her bastard boyfriend destroyed your reputation, my murderous ex-cook tried to destroy your life.’
With some effort, Blaze turned her head to look at him. ‘I’d only met her once at a party. We spoke briefly about Australia. She seemed nice, initially, if a bit desperate. I felt sorry for her, if you can believe it, because she had such appalling taste in boyfriends.’ She gave a hollow laugh.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mac said.
‘What a waste. All that and for what? That wasn’t love.’ She closed her eyes. ‘You were right in what you said the other day, about love and hate being two sides of the same coin.’
He gave a strangled laugh. ‘I think I would have preferred to be wrong!’
There was something damp on her face. ‘Don’t cry,’ she said, though to Mac or herself, she wasn’t sure. She rubbed her face with her shirt sleeve, but within seconds it was wet again.
‘I think it’s raining,’ Mac mumbled. He laughed and then groaned.
He was right. She tasted it on her lips, felt it on her eyelids, thought of the bushfire. She looked at Mac and managed a smile. ‘Do you think it’ll put out the fire?’
Mac shook his head, his black eyes intense. ‘Never.’
Epilogue
‘And the winner is . . .’
Blaze felt Mac’s fingers dig into in her palm as Nick Houston paused for dramatic effect.
‘Blaze Gillespie!’
The roar of applause hit like a tidal wave. As it had for the film festival little more than a year before, the world spun more and more slowly until it stopped. Only this time, there was no thought of escape; only of what the hell she was going to say when she got up on stage – if she even managed to get there, that was.
‘Smile,’ Mac murmured in her ear, before kissing her. ‘Academy Award winner.’ He stood and reached out a hand to tug her to her feet. He held on tight to her hand, scowling as Saul Laker embraced her enthusiastically, and saw her safely up the steps to the stage of the Dolby Theater.
Careful not to step on the hem of her cleverly draped, Grecian-style cream silk gown, she made the last few metres across the stage to where a beaming Nick thrust a golden boy into her hands and followed it with a warm hug.
‘Enjoy,’ he said. ‘Boy, do you deserve it!’
‘Wow!’ Blaze murmured, holding it tight.
An ear-piercing wolf-whistle cut through the remnants of the applause, and she looked up to see Jaxon beaming from ear to ear. Her cheer group. The audience laughed, and she relaxed and looked up before speaking into the microphone.
‘For those of you who’ve seen my movie, Siren – and I hope you all have – there’s a scene towards the end where my character, Serene, says this: “Life happens. You just have to live it and see where it takes you.” In the course of the story, she comes to realise that you can’t control life. In the course of the last year or so, I’ve discovered that, too.
‘Roller coaster doesn’t quite cover it. The wildest ride of my life – no X-rated pun intended.’ She winked as the audience roared with laughter. ‘Some of the time I just wanted to make it stop, but I hung on.’
She waited until they’d hushed to change the tone. ‘It started lower than low, with the deaths of two people who supported me, regardless of what others thought or said or implied. To Mitch Redmond, who I knew well, and Beth Laurensen, who I knew barely at all, thank you for being my champions. You are both sorely missed by your loved ones.
‘To my other champion, Jaxon Hughes, extraordinary agent and dear friend, I thank you, also.’
She acknowledged the talents of the Siren team, particularly her fellow Oscar winner, the writer Rachael Hampshire, for her screenplay, the producer and director for their faith, and her co-star and the rest of the cast.
‘Just before I go, I’d also like to acknowledge Detective Fabrese of the LAPD, for not locking me up when he might have; and my community in Meriwether, Queensland, Australia – especially Rowdy and Paddy. You rock. And finally, to Mac: you are my husband and my life. My family. Always.’
Following the awards was a blur of hugs and air kisses and champagne. Mac was kept busy by a steady stream of propositions – courtesy of three women and one man – that darkened his mood and made her laugh.
‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked her darkly. ‘These people have no shame. You were standing right there. My ring is on your finger.’
Blaze continued to smile serenely, feeling the topaz on the third finger of her left hand, next to her wedding band. How could she not, when she had found her destiny while they still sought theirs?
‘I phoned Rowdy to tell him,’ she said later when they were in the limousine on their way back to the hotel, ‘while you were, uh, otherwise engaged with your fan club. He said everything’s fine at Sweet Springs.’ She waited a beat to ask. ‘Do you really not mind moving to Sweet Springs? I mean, you built up Rosmerta with your bare hands.’
Mac looped an arm around her shoulders and she settled against his chest. ‘I reckon I’ve gained far more than I’ve given up,’ he said. ‘It’s hard letting go, but the time is right for change and your land is ideal for raising horses. Plus,’ he pressed a kiss into her hair, ‘I get to move to Sweet Springs, which I’d always wanted. With you, the woman I’ve always wanted. It’s a survivor. Like you. Like us. Your name is on the deeds; my blood is in the soil. It feels like our place.’
‘Ours,’ she agreed as their hands entwined. ‘The place to put the past to rest and let new life begin.’
And as the limo sailed through the night, on the other side of the world, home waited for their return.
Acknowledgements
To those who put up with my reclusive writing habits (you know who you are!) and the Destiny editors who offered invaluable guidance - thank you.
About the Author
J.C. Grey has been hooked on romantic fiction since reading The Wolf and the Dove by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss as a teenager, and started writing when the stories and characters swirling around in her head demanded to be let loose on the page.
Born in Britain and now based in Australia, J.C.'s day jobs have included journalism, editing and copywriting, but she most enjoys the time she spends immersed in the dangerous lives and loves of her heroes and heroines, whose stories often unfold in ways she could never have imagined.
Since she started writing romance seriously about a decade ago, J.C. has published a paranormal romance trilogy-comprising Dance with the Devil, Something Wicked This Way Comes and The Witching Hour-about three Australian witches who must unite to defeat an age-old curse. Southern Star, her first romantic suspense, brings together two people from very different worlds, the rugged Australian interior and glamorous, cutthroat Hollywood.
With its diverse landscape, ranging from windswept coastline to untamed outback and from golden beaches to steamy rainforest, Australia makes the ideal dramatic backdrop for the kinds of intensely romantic stories that J.C. loves to write. However, she also hopes to bring her British heritage into play in a future story.
At present, J.C. is trying to finish her next
romantic suspense while trying in vain to ignore the stories in her head still waiting to be told.
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First published by Penguin Books Australia, 2013
Copyright © J.C Grey 2013
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