Sweet Danger

by Cheryl Pierson

  Jesse took a towel from Mrs. Montgomery's pile and wiped his hand as he knelt beside Tommy, who clutched Jennifer's hand as if he were made of stone. Jesse reached for Jennifer's wrist. Her pulse beat beneath her ashen skin faint and shallow. She would be gone within minutes.

  "What would it be worth to you?" Hardin asked suddenly. He stood impassively watching, his lips twisted in a wry smile as Tommy looked up.

  "What do you mean?"

  "To save her. What's it worth?" He reached inside his shirt pocket, feeling for his cigarettes.

  "Anything! I'd do anything!" Hope leapt in Tommy's eyes and Jesse met Hardin's stare briefly.

  He was toying with the kid. Sick bastard.

  Hardin's smile widened. "Well, I'll wager you thought you were a real man, giving her that brat; didn't you?"

  "It-it was an accident." Tommy wiped his sleeve across his face.

  "An accident," Hardin repeated coldly. "And you still have trouble admitting it's yours." He let the package of smokes drop back into his pocket without taking one out, forgotten in his anger.

  "She says it is."

  "What do you think?"

  Tommy nodded finally, then wiped at his face again. "I guess—"

  "You guess!" Hardin turned away, disgusted.

  "All right! It's mine!" Before Jesse could stop him, he jumped to his feet and went for Hardin. Just as quickly, Hardin threw a hard punch to his nose, knocking him back to the floor in a tangled heap. The Glock was in Hardin's hand before the boy could clear his head, his booted foot on Tommy's chest.

  Jesse's fists clenched in reaction, but he stayed where he was. Abe sat forward, glaring daggers at Hardin. He smiled at Abe's impotent fury, increasing the pressure of his foot enough to make Tommy gasp for air. "Not much of a fighter, are you, Mr. Norton," he sneered.

  Tommy closed his eyes, trembling beneath the heavy foot.

  "Don't you ever think about being a man, Mr. Norton?" Hardin's boot slid upward, until the sole pressed across Tommy's cheek and nose, turning his head to the side. His gun was pointed at Tommy's forehead as he tried to nod.

  "How much do you think about it? Enough to marry that girl and give your bastard a name?"

  Tommy's lips were mashed outward. His eyes rolled up at Hardin with a mixture of fear and anger. Hardin relieved the pressure just enough to allow him to speak.

  "My parents wouldn't let me marry her! I wanted to—"

  "Liar!"

  The heel crushed down across his cheek again and he cried out.

  Jesse couldn't take another minute of Hardin's insanity. He reflexively started up from where he knelt beside Lindy, stopping short the instant Hardin's arm swung around, showing him the business end of the Glock. He heard Lindy murmur something from behind him. He raised his right hand, his left arm too sore to move, meeting Hardin's gray glare head on.

  "Why don't you let the kid up so he can do right by this girl and their baby?" Jesse said edgily.

  Hardin stared at him for a long, intense moment, then lifted his foot from Tommy's face. "Crawl back over there, boy," Hardin murmured, his eyes never leaving Jesse's. "I don't need a bastard half-breed tellin' me what to do, Jesse. Best you remember that."

  No need to worry about that. It had taken every last ounce of effort he had in him to make that small bit of a stand. Even a reply was beyond him, now. Breathing shallowly, Jesse eased back down to the floor, as the adrenaline deserted him. He closed his eyes, letting himself drift for a moment to keep the encroaching nausea back. The blackness behind his eyelids was inviting, but he couldn't stay there. A girl was dying. Lindy's voice brought him back to the present.

  "I don't know what to do. I think—I think she's dying, Jesse."

  Opening his eyes, he could see she had accepted the situation. Sadness overrode the fear in her face.

  "I'm not even sure a doctor could save her, Lindy. Not now."

  Lindy snagged a couple of the towels and laid them atop the floor where the girl's blood had pooled. She quickly replaced the towel they'd laid across Jennifer's hips in a pathetic attempt at privacy.

  Jennifer cried out Tommy's name. Tommy gripped her hand tightly, his lips trickling blood from Hardin's last punch.

  Jesse felt Tommy's uncertainty, his inability to admit the fact he was minutes away from losing his girl. Tommy was missing his chance to tell her goodbye—something that, Jesse knew from personal experience, would haunt him forever. He sighed, summoning the strength to move up close to him again. "If there's anything you want to tell her, now's the time."

  Tommy gave him a long, disbelieving look.

  "No," Tommy murmured, dazedly. "No, she's going to be okay." He unconsciously swiped at his mouth, where the blood ran.

  Jesse shook his head. "Not this time, Tommy."

  Tommy's chest heaved. "Oh, God." He bit his lip. "God!"

  "Say goodbye," Jesse whispered, urgency tingeing his voice. It meant everything to be in time. Everything.

  Tommy moved to lay his head next to Jennifer's.

  She smiled weakly at him. "You never told me you…you loved me."

  "You know I do," he muttered.

  "Would you say it? Just one time…" She broke off, gripping his hand against the pain.

  "I love you, Jen."

  Silent tears trickled into her hair, her strained breathing coming in rapid bursts.

  "Here it comes!" Mrs. Montgomery said, and despite the circumstances, she smiled as she positioned herself to welcome the baby into the world. Within seconds, the baby's cry echoed through the room as between them, she and Lindy hurried to tie off the umbilical cord.

  "Love…her…" Jennifer whispered.

  Tommy swallowed hard. He touched her cheek and she turned with her last bit of strength to kiss his hand. "I do," he said thickly. "I do love her, Jen."

  Jennifer closed her eyes and was still.

  Chapter Seven

  "Jen?" Tommy sat up and touched her cheek. "Jennifer!" He rocked back on his heels, then dissolved in a heap, as if his bones had liquefied. He cried, alone in his grief—the depth of his emotion so unfamiliar it incapacitated him.

  Jesse reached to grip his shoulder in silent affirmation that he understood. No one should ever feel that isolated in despair.

  "My God," Abe breathed, passing a shaky hand over his face. "My dear God."

  Hardin stepped forward, the toe of his boot coming to rest against Jennifer's head. Her dark hair cascaded over the pointed leather. "Dead, huh? 'Bout time. That caterwaulin' was gettin' to me—"

  Tommy scrambled up, fists clenched. "Don't…you…touch her, you sorry bastard!" His voice cracked. "She's dead because of you! Don't touch her!"

  Jesse watched Hardin's amused perusal of the young boy. Cruelty lit his gray eyes, a cynical smile twisting his lips.

  He shrugged offhandedly. "I'd say she's past caring whether I touch her or not; wouldn't you?"

  Tommy came at him, gangly and inexperienced, armed only with his youthful anger and indignation. Hardin landed a quick hard punch squarely into Tommy's face once again, sending him stumbling backward. He tripped over Jennifer's body, slipping in her blood. He landed with a solid, hard fall on the tile floor.

  "Pretty hot to defend her—now. She probably wouldn't recognize this side of you." Hardin gave a short laugh. "The way I see it, I saved her years of putting up with your sorry ass. She truly is in a better place, as they always like to say."

  Tommy didn't reply. He sat in Jennifer's blood, his head lowered. Hardin stooped in a sudden move, his Glock going under Tommy's chin in one smooth motion. "What about that baby girl? Is she yours?"

  Tommy lifted his head, glaring his hatred at Hardin. "I never denied it."

  "You never claimed her, either."

  Tommy finally nodded.

  Hardin backed up, still holding the gun as if waiting for the kid to come at him again. Jesse could see the fight had drained out of the teenager. He sat mutely for a second before he spoke in a low voice. "I'm claiming h
er now, you son of a bitch. She's mine. Mine."

  With a broad grin, Hardin holstered the gun. "Now, that's what I like to see. A man who takes responsibility for his children." He turned to look at Jesse. "Don't you, Jesse? Ain't nothin' worse than a sorry bastard who won't take care of his own."

  Jesse met his eyes from where he knelt a few yards away. Hardin took pleasure in bringing Tommy to his knees, making him beg, but that diversion had just ended. Hardin turned away as Lindy brought the baby to Tommy and placed her in his arms.

  Jesse didn't believe Hardin would hurt the baby. Maybe this would be as good a time as any to see if he had any kind of a heart at all. "Hardin."

  He turned, casting Jesse an expectant look.

  "How about letting the women and the baby go?" The room shifted around him, as he put out an unsteady hand to keep from hitting the floor if he should fall. Suddenly, he felt Lindy there between him and Tommy. Her words were for Tommy as she showed him how to hold the baby, but she was really there for another reason, entirely. She was there for him. Her side and shoulder touched his back as she leaned forward to lift Tommy's arm.

  "Like this," she murmured, positioning the baby in Tommy's arms.

  Hardin cocked his head to one side, as if he might be considering Jesse's proposition. "What have you got to trade?"

  Jesse's throat went dry, just thinking about the implications of that question; but, hadn't he expected it? He couldn't let himself think about what it meant. He still remembered every vivid detail of Hardin's past murders—the part that came after Hardin was through playing. He forced himself to answer. "Myself."

  "Jesse, no!" Caspar shouted.

  "I have you anyway—in case you haven't noticed," Hardin said conversationally, as if he and Jesse were the only two people in the room.

  Jesse nodded, ignoring the inescapable horror he felt rising in his chest and saw reflected in John Caspar's eyes. "I know you do, but not without a fight. This way…" He swayed, fighting for balance. Lindy's hand pressed at his back, making his world right once again.

  Hardin chuckled, watching the subtle interplay, his eyes all-knowing. "Helluva proposition, Jesse. I'll think about it."

  "Hardin, why don't you just get this dog and pony show over with?" Abe exploded. "Take the cash and go out the back door! Find the rock you crawled out from under."

  Hardin's eyes narrowed, his lips thinning as the smile vaporized. "I'm getting real tired of you, old man. I'm going to allow that maybe your knee is hurting and making you talk too much, say things you wouldn't say, otherwise."

  He took a step toward Abe and Mary Silverman. Jesse tensed. But once again, Hardin's good humor appeared, and he checked himself. "Just to show you I have the best of intentions, I'll let Mrs. Silverman go. She can take the baby with her."

  Jesse tried to pull his thoughts together. He hurt so damn bad, and hoping for a good outcome meant hoping Hardin took him up on his offer—not much to look forward to. "What about…the others…? Lindy? Mrs. Montgomery?"

  At that, Hardin's lips twisted in a cynical sneer. "Now, Jesse. Don't you push too. If I do decide to take you up on your offer, why…I'll have all sorts of things planned." He winked at Lindy. "We'll want an audience, while I break you, won't we?"

  * * * * *

  Jackson and McAdoo dragged Jennifer's lifeless body to the front door and pitched it on the sidewalk. A bloody trail streaked the black and white tile. Tommy's chin trembled, as he quickly turned away to kiss his baby girl's forehead. With a lingering touch, he handed her to Mary Silverman. Abe patted Mary's hand with a reassuring smile. She never spoke, still wearing the dazed look she’d had for three of the past four hours, since the ordeal had begun.

  Lindy wet a large sponge she found under the cabinet and knelt on the floor. The blood was already beginning to dry. She bent to scrub it, not looking at the others. As Mary went through the door carrying the baby, she raised her eyes from the task to watch her. Her gaze shifted quickly to Jesse. He sat a few feet away, close to John and Tony, looking calm, but she knew from the tense set of his shoulders, he was seething. How could she even think of what he had suggested to Hardin? She scrubbed hard at a drying line of blood on the floor. How could the suggestion even have left his lips?

  His lips.

  She groaned inwardly. So far, with everything that had happened this morning, she had fended off the wayward, lovely thoughts of Jesse's mouth closing over hers in sweet seduction—at a time when a kiss should have been the last thing on his mind.

  Had she prevented him from getting away? Had he gotten a look at Hardin before pushing her to the floor, covering her body with his own? Her scrubbing slowed and stopped, as she remembered the expression on his face at that moment. The way his eyes had darkened, the grooves at his mouth tightened. Was it the fact he had recognized the danger, or recognized the man? No matter which, he had protected her with no forethought. And now, he intended to carry that protection to its final, terrible outcome…offering himself to a madman for the rest of them. Tears blurred her eyes.

  She heard Hardin's voice in the distance. He had made the call to Ryan Lucas, telling him what happened and that he would allow SWAT to come collect not only Jennifer's body, but the other three innocent people who had been gunned down earlier.

  Tommy walked around the deli counter to get a roll of paper towels. Silently, he began to tear the towels off, dropping them on top of the remaining blood. Lindy went to him and took several of the towels from his wooden fingers, wetting them in the kitchen sink. She knelt beside where he crawled, wiping up the eddies of blood. She came behind him, cleaning the drying edges where the pools of crimson had been. Mrs. Montgomery gathered the used towels and threw them away, bringing Lindy clean wet ones with each trip.

  * * * * *

  Tommy's tears fell onto the floor, but he worked methodically.

  Lindy glanced over her shoulder once more at Jesse. He watched her, trying to keep the pain from eating him alive. He shifted to find a comfortable spot, but the bullet was like blossoming fire, radiating from his shoulder, rippling throughout his whole body.

  Lindy's worry for him was evident in her caramel eyes. No way could he reassure her that things were okay—that he was okay. Lindy was young, but unbelievably, she was telling him she was going to be strong for him, as strong as she could be. He'd been impressed so far.

  She gave him a cool steady look before she tore her gaze away from his, going back to the gruesome task of cleaning up Jennifer Riley's blood. Jesse let his eyes close for a moment. His skin tingled where Lindy's hand had been earlier as she'd touched his back.

  Hardin had seen that, he was sure. He sighed. That wasn't a good thing. They'd have to be more careful. Jesse watched as Mary Silverman stepped onto the street. She carried the baby stiffly, staring straight ahead. A unit of SWAT team members ran forward, four of them breaking off to form a shell around the portly woman. One of them took the baby from her. The other eight rushed forward, collecting the bodies of the dead, then hurried back to the line of patrol cars with their grim burdens. At least, the baby was safe.

  Jackson and McAdoo stood inside the cover of what was left of the storefront, their weapons drawn and aimed at the SWAT officers. When the bodies were retrieved, the two men started back inside toward the group of hostages.

  McAdoo walked past them, seating himself at the communications table. He reached for the headphones. Jackson sat alone at a table, cleaning his knife.

  Jesse's gaze followed Hardin as he came to stand over Tommy. "Well, now both your womenfolk are in a better place." He gave a self-satisfied smile, but Tommy kept his head down, watching as the paper towels soaked up Jennifer's blood. Beside him, Lindy scrubbed the drying borders away, and Jesse watched as Tommy took a deep, calming breath. It was how he felt when she was nearby, too—calm, soothed, invincible.

  Hardin dropped to a squat beside Tommy, and the boy looked up at him after a moment, unflinchingly.

  "If you're lucky, you might ju
st live to see your baby again." Hardin continued in a silky voice. "Maybe I'll make you my bitch." He moistened his lips suggestively, but Tommy didn't glance away. Hardin looked uneasy after a moment. Trying to regain his composure in the face of Tommy's unwavering stare, he said, "I wonder what you'd do to see that kid of yours again? Funny, ain't it, how when you first came in here, you didn't give a shit about that girl, or the kid—"

  "Her name is Riley." Tommy's voice sounded low, steady. He stared through Tabor Hardin with eyes as hard as glass. "Her name is Riley…Heaven…Norton."

  Jesse recognized the boiling desire to throttle Hardin in Tommy Norton's tone—his glare, the way he held himself tightly, like a coiled spring. Couldn't let that happen. Hardin was baiting him. He wouldn't hesitate to make an orphan of little Riley the same day she was born.

  "What the hell, Hardin?"

  Hardin's eyes shifted immediately to Jesse. He stood slowly, walking toward where Jesse sat, leaning against the counter. Jesse was aware of Lindy watching it all play out from where she knelt on the floor behind Hardin. Finally, outright fear had crept into her eyes. He hated that, but he had no other choice. He looked back up at Hardin, steadily. "Why don't you leave the kid alone?"

  Hardin stared down at him with a speculative eye. "Would you rather I turn my attentions elsewhere?" He glanced over his shoulder, giving Lindy a leering grin. "Like…Miss Linden Oliver?"

  Jesse's heart became a stone in his chest. Not Lindy. He'd done everything he could to protect her. He wouldn't let it fall apart now. He kept his voice even, managing a faint grin. "You're way older than I am, Tay. I'd think you might look toward someone a little more…ah, mature. Lindy's a kid herself—not much older than Tommy, here."

  Hardin glanced at Mrs. Montgomery who stood behind the bar, washing her hands at the sink. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Well, it seems we have no middle ground here. I'd either be stealing the cradle blind or humping a dried up old bag of bones." He crouched in front of where Jesse's legs sprawled, giving him a conspiratorial glance. "What do you suggest, Jess? How shall I entertain myself?"