A Modern Love Story

by Jolyn Palliata

  “I go first, or you don’t get out.”

  “Fine.” He flew out of the backseat, and straight into Payten’s house with the detective cursing behind him.

  *****

  The phone ringing brought Payten to her feet, but again, she didn’t answer it. She simply locked onto Robbie’s gaze as she leaned back and waited for her to bleed out.

  Robbie didn’t know how long it had been, but she could actually feel the life draining out of her. The pleas running through her head went unspoken, the curses and anger went unexpressed. She could only hope and pray no one else would be hurt by this bitch.

  Instead of saying her goodbyes to those she loved, questions raced through her head: Would the L’s be in danger now? Would Luc ever find out the truth? And then she heard Luc, calling her name. It was faint and echoed, as if sounding through a long concrete tunnel. She tried to chase his voice, but she couldn’t hold on as it wavered in and out.

  Everything faded to black.

  *****

  Luc couldn’t fucking believe what he was seeing as he slid through Rob’s blood on his knees. He grabbed onto her wrists, but it kept coming. “Robbie! Godammit, Rob! You wake up right now! Merrill, call an ambulance!”

  “Let her go, Luc. Just back away.”

  Luc looked up to see Payten aiming a gun at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merrill pull his piece.

  “Freeze, Payten. Put the gun down. You don’t want to do any more damage.”

  She shook her head. “If I can’t have him, then no one will.”

  Robbie shifted in Luc’s arms, drawing his attention. “Robbie! Come on, babe. Come on. Hold on for me.”

  He faintly heard the click as Payten cocked her gun. He looked up in time to see a bullet explode through her chest, spraying a mist of blood onto the window behind her.

  “Jesus,” Merrill muttered, keeping his gun on Payten and pulled the trigger again as she swung her weapon toward him.

  Her body fell straight back, her gun skidding across the floor.

  Merrill grabbed a radio out of his pocket and called for an ambulance as two more cops rushed into the room. One of them raced to Payten’s body, and the other flew at Luc.

  The cop took her pulse. Nodding, he looked to Merrill. “It’s weak, but there.”

  “They’re on their way.”

  Luc stayed glued to Robbie’s side, murmuring encouragements into her ear as the cop did what he could. When the EMTs arrived, he was unceremoniously shoved aside to allow them to work. Merrill grabbed Luc’s arm as the EMTs checked her vitals.

  “She’s flat lining,” an EMT barked, grabbing his paddles as the other abandoned the IV he’d started.

  “Clear.” Her whole body bounced off the floor.

  “Robbie!” Luc moved to rush forward, but Merrill held him firm. He restrained Luc’s arms behind his back when he continued squirming.

  “Let them work, Luc!”

  “Clear.” Her body convulsed again, flopping limply in the pool of blood surrounding her.

  “Jesus Christ! Let me go! Robbie!” Luc thought he was going to go fucking mad, standing by helplessly as she died right before his very eyes. “Don’t you fucking leave me!”

  *****

  “Luc. You can’t stay here forever. You need to go home and get some rest.”

  Luc stared blankly at Leah. “What if she wakes up?”

  “Sweetie, she’s not going to wake up from a medically-induced coma.”

  “I know that,” he grumbled, taking another drink of his cold coffee. “They’ve been testing her off the ventilator, and her vitals have been stable. I don’t want them to bring her out when I’m not here.”

  “We could call you when they decide to try.”

  “No.”

  “Luc, you need rest.”

  “I need to be here for her more than I need sleep.” He leaned his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “The last words we said to each other were in anger, Leah. I have to be here. I need to take care of her, no matter what.”

  “I’ve talked to the doctors, Luc. So have you.” She paused to rub his back. “She might wake up with brain damage. Lawson and I could—”

  “I said no matter what. I won’t leave her side again.”

  “Considering what she’s been through,” Leah said gently, “she may not want you there.”

  “Then I’ll convince her she’s wrong. You’ve said as much to me yourself—Rob and I are meant to be together.”

  Before Leah could answer, Robbie’s doctor approached to inform them he wanted to take her off the ventilator and extubate her.

  “Now?” Luc asked, shooting Leah an accusing glare.

  “Yes. You can wait outside in the hallway. We’ll come get you when it’s done.”

  *****

  Later that night, Luc sat by Robbie’s bed, fiddling with her engagement ring as he propped his elbows onto her mattress. The extubation had gone well, and Robbie had responded, but they had to sedate her when she started having an anxiety attack over being in a hospital.

  They wouldn’t let him in. He told them it’d be an issue, but no one fucking listened to him.

  As he gazed around the room, knowing she’d have a better reaction when she finally woke up this time. Every flat surface Luc could find had a vase filled with wild flowers, and the space no longer resembled a hospital room. Well, at first glance, anyhow.

  “Is that a ring?” Robbie whispered, her voice raspy, cutting into Luc’s thoughts.

  “Hey,” he breathed, smoothing her hair back and absently tugged on a lock lying across her shoulder. “How you feeling?”

  “Tired.” She swallowed, winced. “My throat hurts.”

  “They said it would be sore for awhile.” Luc grabbed a cup with a straw off the bedside table, and held it to her mouth. “Take a sip. Just a little one.”

  Robbie did as she was told, her head falling back into the pillow when she was done. After she studied Luc with sleepy eyes, her gaze drifted around the room. “I’m still in the hospital.”

  “Yes. But I’m here with you. You’ll be fine.”

  She looked at him again. “You did this. The flowers.”

  He shrugged, feeling as though he hadn’t done enough. “I thought it would help.”

  “Thank you.” Her fingers crept towards his hand, and he took it gently in his. She closed her eyes with a slight smile before opening them again. “You didn’t answer me.”

  His brow creased.

  “The ring. Is that what I think it is?”

  He felt his ears burn as he chuckled. “I was thinking of sliding it on your finger when they had you under. I mean, a girl can’t say no if she’s in a coma.” He shrugged when he saw the humor light up her green eyes. “Seemed a safe bet, anyway.”

  “I don’t think I could ever say no to you, coma or not.” She lifted her other hand to cup his cheek, tracing her thumb under his eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping. You look so tired.”

  Luc let out a breath. “Robbie…I’m so sorry—”

  “Stop. I know what happened. I know what she did to us. She told me.”

  “I shouldn’t have—”

  “I said stop.” She took a steadying breath. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

  Luc dropped his head on her hand, squeezing back the tears of relief.

  “Are you going to put that ring on me?” Robbie asked quietly.

  Luc’s head snapped up. “You sure?”

  Robbie nodded, tears swimming in her eyes.

  Luc slid the ring home, then brought her hand to his mouth, kissing each and every knuckle. “I love you, Robbie. I’ll always love you. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  She smiled as the tears finally spilled over. “You already have.”

  # # # # #

  Now Available…

  CONNECTED

  a Twists of Fate novella (Book 1)

  A rock group’s rhythm guitari
st, Rhys Alexander, dies and finds himself bound inside the body of a woman he’s never met. Can she help him move on to the other side, or will he end up finding the love of his life…after his has already ended?

  Excerpt:

  After a few minutes of digging through her closet, Addison came up with two black dresses. She wanted something simplistic to fit her style, but elegant. Something not too revealing, but feminine; something that would make a man drool but leave enough to the imagination to have him wondering what was hidden underneath.

  What are you doing?

  “I’m trying to decide which dress to wear.” She chewed on her fingernail as her eyes shifted from one dress to the other.

  Wear the one on the right.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You can see them?”

  Hell, no. But your inability to make a fucking decision is raking at my nerves.

  “So you just picked one at random?”

  It’s a decision, isn’t it? It’s not like you’re any closer to one.

  She lifted a shoulder in semi-agreement as she eyed the wraparound number on the right.

  Worked for her.

  She shoved the reject dress back into the closet before she went to dry her hair and throw on some make-up.

  Rhys was surprisingly quiet throughout, and then she realized he had closed off their link. Why? She had no idea, but at this point it hardly concerned her. She was just thankful for the quiet.

  After fluffing her blonde locks and putting on her face, Addison shrugged out of her robe. She took her time as she picked out some frilly panties and bra—because you just never know—and then wiggled into the dress.

  “Oh, boy,” she mumbled, studying herself in the mirror. The dress didn’t leave as much to the imagination as she had hoped. She couldn’t go out like this, could she?

  A sly smile crept to her face. Well, maybe…

  What’s up, sweetheart?

  Aaand the cocky attitude was back.

  “Just checking things out. This dress is a bit…revealing. I’m not used to it.”

  He chuckled. What? he teased. Can you actually see your knees?

  She pulled at the fabric wrapped tight around her chest as her ample breasts kept trying to pop out and say ‘hello,’ and then she tugged fruitlessly at the hem.

  “It shows a lot more than that,” she muttered, rethinking if she could leave the house that way or not. After all, it was only a third date, and on top of that, she never truly intended to ever wear that dress; it was a impulse purchase on a day she had felt a helluva lot braver than she did just then.

  Jesus, it can’t be that bad. Hell, if any damn flesh is showing, you’d consider it to be too revealing.

  “I would not.” Though she probably would.

  Don’t get all offended and shit. You showed me your picture, remember? Very proper, very conservative, very non-revealing. I know your type.

  “My type. Is that so?” She propped her hands on her hips, her contempt pushing her to prove the stereotyping asshat wrong. “Would you like to see for yourself? Then you can enlighten me with your vast knowledge as to how this dress is too conservative, and fits my type perfectly.”

  Snorting a laugh, he encouraged her further. I would love to see your oh-too-sexy dress, sweetheart. Lay it on me. I’ll try to contain myself.

  Striking a ridiculously sassy pose that had her giggling, she projected her image from the mirror.

  He made a choking sound, and she felt his entire being seize up.

  Frustrated, she shut down the image. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  For crissakes, woman, you’re fucking hot in real life! What the hell happened to the prim-and-fucking-proper-working-class girl?!

  Suddenly feeling very confident, she tipped her head to the side and studied her image again, being sure Rhys saw it as well.

  “I let my hair down, which I’m known to do when I go out. I put in my contacts, which I also do from time-to-time. And I put this on,” she ran her hands down her dress, caressing every curve. “Which, I might add, you picked out. I think you made the right choice, don’t you?” She turned in the mirror, glancing over her shoulder to show the ‘v’ of bare skin slashing down the back.

  Addison, baby, you’re killing me. Of all the damn luck; to be stuck in the head of some searing hot babe. He groaned as if in real pain.

  She laughed at his dramatics, and closed off the image. “What does it matter what I look like? I’m still me. The irritating woman you fight with constantly.”

  Yeah, but before I was getting a rise out of you ‘cause I could.

  “And how has that changed?”

  His voice shifted low, almost sultry. Now I’m kinda thinking of it as foreplay.

  It was her turn to make the choking sound, followed by a wave of heat planting itself firmly in her cheeks. “Oh, please.”

  That’s right, baby. Beg.

  She couldn’t help but laugh, refusing to take the man seriously. “This is going to be a long night.”

  His chuckle joined hers. Count on it.

  “You better behave yourself, Rhys.”

  To that, he had no response.

  About The Author

  Jolyn Palliata writes romance for adults and young adults alike, and has dabbled in just about every genre there is (paranormal being her favorite). She lives in the Midwest with her highly patient husband and insanely energetic son. For more information, or to contact Jolyn directly, please visit her website at http://www.JolynPalliata.com or email her at Info.JolynPalliata@gmail.com. She loves the interaction with her readers!