CHAPTER 46
“Alessandra . . . my love,” Dante muttered, a smirk on his face.
Mallory held her breath. Dante would shoot Tennyson without a second thought. She knew it.
She couldn’t let that happen. Not because of her.
Too many people had already died because of her.
“Don’t hurt him.” Her voice was a trembling mess as she clung to Tennyson’s arm. “Please, Dante.”
“You like this man, do you?” Dante stepped closer, observing Tennyson with a calculated gaze.
“He’s a good man. He’s kept me safe while we’ve been apart.” Her words caused bile to rise in her throat.
“Mallory, don’t do this,” Tennyson said. “Please.”
“Maybe he likes you too much?” Dante continued inching closer, still calculating, formulating, planning.
“No, he just wants to protect me. You owe him a debt of gratitude.” Mallory didn’t want to go with Dante. Her entire body rebelled against it. But she wouldn’t let Tennyson die to ensure that.
No, she loved Tennyson. She knew she did.
She glanced around. Four men surrounded them, weapons aimed on Tennyson. Stone stood in the distance, his hands in the air. Was it just the two of them? Or had they brought backup? Was this a no-win situation?
Dear Lord, please give me Your wisdom now. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this.
“You’re telling me I should thank this man?” Dante said. “The man who tried to kill me.”
“Dante, he’s been kind to me.” She softened her voice. “Please. I haven’t asked much of you. But let him go.”
“Mallory—I know what you’re doing. Don’t.” Tennyson edged closer to her. His voice sounded hoarse and tight and pleading.
His words clutched her heart, but it didn’t matter. No more bloodshed on her account. If she had to die to save others, so be it.
Her goal had been to bring healing and restoration to women. She’d done the opposite. Women had suffered and died because of her.
Dante reached his hand toward her. “Okay then, my love. Come with me. We’ll leave this behind.”
Mallory stared at his outstretched arm. Her chest squeezed with the reality of the situation. As soon as she went with him, that would be it. Her life would be with Dante . . . as a slave. Locked away. Absent of freedom or choice.
No part of her wanted to return to that life.
But she had no choice.
“You’re not going to hurt them?” she said. “You promise?”
“Don’t do it, Mallory!” Ethan yelled.
She swallowed so hard that it hurt. Her heart pounded fiercely in her ears. Her eyes darted from person to person.
“Tell your friend to put his gun down,” Dante said. “I won’t hurt him.”
“Tennyson . . .” she started, realizing she still gripped his arm.
At that moment, the man holding Ethan rammed something into his head, and he sank to the ground.
Mallory gasped.
“He was a mole, my Alessandra,” Dante said. “He must pay.”
“No one else needs to get hurt.” Her voice cracked. The situation was spiraling out of control. Her mind raced to keep up.
“People get hurt every day,” Tennyson reminded her, his voice controlled but tense. “You think you can stop all of that?”
“I want to stop what I can.” She licked her lips. She knew she couldn’t change Dante’s mind. But if she could save Tennyson . . .
“You’re so sweet, my love,” Dante murmured. “You make me a better person.”
Her stomach roiled at the look in his eyes. He believed his words. “Let him go, and I’ll come with you.”
Tennyson bristled under her hand. “I’m not leaving you, Mallory,” Tennyson said through gritted teeth. “Get that thought through your head.”
“I can’t let you die, Tennyson.”
“No one’s dying here today. Not you. Not me. Not Stone even.”
She wished she felt as confident.
All the weapons remained trained on Tennyson. Except for Tennyson’s. If he took a shot, five other guys would be waiting to take him down.
Just then, gunfire rang out from above the container. Tennyson pushed her to the ground and followed suit.
Mallory squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Because she had no idea what else to do.
Tennyson knew exactly what was happening. Wheaton had climbed to the top of one of the containers and was picking Dante’s men off one by one. He watched them fall to the ground.
Without missing a beat, Tennyson popped to his feet. He raised his gun, fired at Torres’s hand, and the man’s gun flew to the ground.
Torres moaned and grabbed his injured wrist.
The other members of Inferno were down. Wheaton stood guard.
Now it was between Tennyson and Torres.
Tennyson thought he’d ended this two years ago, but Torres had the upper hand then.
Not this time.
This time, Tennyson was in control. He gripped his gun and stared at the terrorist leader, a man who didn’t look nearly as imposing now that he’d been cornered.
But Tennyson wasn’t finished with him yet.
He raised his gun to Torres’s chest. This was the moment he’d dreamed about for years. Since Claire. He finally had the chance to kill the man who’d made him lose everything.
Except, despite the hurt and the pain, not all was lost.
God had brought him a new hope and purpose. Even though he’d always mourn Claire, healing was possible. Not all was ruined, nor would Claire want him to live like it was.
He’d even found a new love—if Mallory would ever forgive him.
No, Torres deserves to die. Especially after what he did to Mallory.
“He’s of more help to the authorities if he’s alive, Tennyson.” Mallory rolled over, her eyes wide and blood trickling down her forehead. “Imagine the information he can give them.”
“You really want to keep this guy alive?”
“No, but I don’t want you to have to live with his death,” she said quietly.
Her words caused his heart to pound wildly in his chest.
Live with his death. Tennyson had thought it would bring him satisfaction . . . but would it? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
Lord, what should I do?
Mallory was right. Tennyson couldn’t shoot Torres. Vengeance would only satisfy him for a moment. Justice would be handing Torres over to authorities.
“I’ll make sure the government has something much worse in store for you than being shot by me,” Tennyson said, releasing his breath.
His choice had been made, and he knew it was the right one.
“Put your weapons down! FBI!” Agents surrounded them.
Tennyson lowered his gun as an agent grabbed Torres. His body seemed to deflate as the adrenaline wore off. Mallory stood, and her arms caught him. Or he caught her. He wasn’t sure which one. They buried themselves in each other.
“You came for me,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear.
“I told you I always would.”
Her embrace tightened. “Do me a favor? Never let me go.”
Warmth spread through him. “My pleasure.”
EPILOGUE
“This is your place?” Mallory crossed her arms over her chest and stared out over the bay as the sun set. Unlike that first night in Cape Thomas, at the beginning of her tour, now she felt no fear. No storms raged in the distance; clear skies and calm water stretched before her instead.
From behind, Tennyson slipped his arms around her. Their cheeks touched, and Mallory relished the soft scrape of his stubble. “This is it. For now. It’s not quite the mansion you grew up in.”
“I don’t need a mansion.”
“What do you need?”
Mallory uncrossed her arms and turned until they were face-to-face. She looped her arms around Tennyson’s neck. His warm eyes made he
r heart flutter out of control. The past few days had only solidified her feelings for this man. She wanted to stare at this face, to drink it in, for the rest of her life.
“I just need you,” she murmured.
His gaze went to her lips, and he tenderly stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I love you, Mallory.”
“I love you too, Tennyson.”
His lips covered hers, and her entire body both relaxed and exploded with delight. The depth of connection she felt with Tennyson exceeded what she could have ever imagined or hoped for. She somehow knew deep down inside that total healing was possible—through God and with Tennyson by her side.
Like water, love had the power to sustain life or to devastate it. Love would sustain her now.
She rested there in his embrace, relishing how safe she felt. Never wanting to let him go. Ever.
The past few days had been a whirlwind. She’d been debriefed over and over again. Dante was being held by the government, and he’d be going away for a long time.
With Dante behind bars and Sanchez dead, Inferno’s proverbial head of the snake had been severed. Authorities hoped that meant the organization had disbanded. Using the information that Jason had told them, they planned to intercept the newest shipment of arms before it got to the insurgents in the Middle East.
Narnie had also turned up, and she was okay. She’d been planning, with the help of her husband, Arthur, to send a ransom note to try to milk money out of Mallory. Her love of money had led to some very poor choices—choices that she could end up doing jail time for. Maybe she’d finally learn her lesson.
Tennyson took a step back, but the look in his eyes was enough to take her breath away. She’d never had a man look at her like that before. His eyes were so full of love and affection . . . She’d be a fool to ever let him go.
“I know you never planned on this, but your book is now a bestseller,” Tennyson told her.
“It’s not exactly the way I wanted that to happen. But all of this has increased the awareness of human trafficking. That’s the good news.”
“You sure you’re okay with this change of plans for your tour?”
She nodded. “I don’t need any more drama. I’ll continue doing interviews to promote Verto, but the public appearances just need to be put on the back burner for now.”
“Is Grant still coming by later?”
“Yes, he is. As much as I don’t agree with all of his choices, I do think that, in his mind, he was looking out for me. I’m not ready to turn my back on him. I’m certainly glad that people didn’t turn their backs on me.”
Tennyson’s eyes glowed with warmth and affection as he stared at her. “I’m sorry.”
She put her finger over his lips. “No more sorrys. Life is full of decisions.”
Their lips met again, and Mallory knew that the words she’d written in her blog this morning were true.
I’m not who I used to be. I’ll never be that person again. Instead, I’m stronger. I’m a fighter. I’m more determined than ever to be an agent of change in this world.
I have the power to do this.
And so do you.
It’s your choice. Today and every day. Through the grace of God, I’m a victor not a victim.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2011 Julie Scott
USA Today calls Christy Barritt’s writing “scary, funny, passionate, and quirky.” Her mystery and romantic suspense novels have sold more than a million copies, won the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, and were twice nominated for the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award. She has had more than fifty books published.
Christy has been writing for as long as she can remember and worked for ten years as a newspaper reporter. Her husband is a children’s pastor, and together they have two sons. Christy splits her time between the Virginia suburbs and Hatteras Island, North Carolina.
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