by Cherry Adair
He rolled his eyes. "I rest my case. There's a cure."
"But what if it's a case of what doesn't cure me will kill me?"
"And what if it's the best damn thing to happen to you? Prepared to risk never knowi—"
Her phone rang. She whipped it out of her breast pocket so fast she almost got whiplash. Derek—
"Derek?" Matt asked as Lily read the text message.
She shook her head. On the Wrights' plane, coming back home, she'd told Derek she needed space. Time to think. It was hell getting what she'd asked for. "Joe. He needs help with a cow's early delivery. Back to normal." She rose from the table and carried her mug to the sink and dumped out the coffee. "Thanks for dinner and the pep talk." She walked back, leaned over and kissed the top of Matt's head. "You're a good brother."
"If I was that good you'd listen to me." He rose to hug her. "Don't give up everything because you're afraid, Lily. Some things are worth fighting for. And some things have just got to be taken on faith alone."
Faith, Lily thought, pulling her truck up outside the barn. Her heart, her body, her soul, had faith in Derek. It was her damn brain she was having a problem with. And even that was yearning to take the leap. Unfortunately, there was a last, infinitesimal part of her that held her back.
She tugged her knit cap down over her ears and unsnapped her seat belt, staring off into the darkness. How could a broken heart feel worse than this? How could she possibly miss Derek more than she did right now? How could the pain of being without him from now on be as bad as the pain of having him and losing him?
"And when," Lily said out loud, exasperated with herself, "will I know? How will I know? How do I make that leap?" She grabbed her medical bag from the seat beside her. When that door had closed behind him in the hospital up in Nome, she thought her heart would stop beating. For a full five minutes she'd stared at the closed door, praying for it to open, feeling as though the air was being sucked from the room. Sucked from her life.
The truck door pinged when she opened it. And sitting here, half in and half out of the truck, wasn't going to resolve that part of her life. She stepped out onto the snow-crusted ground. She had a patient waiting. One thing at a time.
Back to normal. But nothing felt normal anymore. In fact, being back home felt weird. The trip to Alaska, and her experiences there, had knocked her world off its axis. Her life just didn't seem to quite fit anymore. She slammed the truck door and ran to the barn through a flurry of snow. A week ago she would've felt the chill in the air; not now. Now she knew what real cold felt like.
She ignored the square amber glow of light coming from the main house's kitchen a few hundred feet away.
Even from out here, she could hear the raised voices and laughter from Derek's friends and family, probably gathered around the kitchen table to enjoy coffee after one of Annie's excellent suppers.
To be fair, she'd been invited. She'd been included in the various activities of Derek's family all week. She'd been far too busy to attend any of them. And even though it killed her to say no, it was better this way. A clean cut was easier to stitch, quicker to heal.
Better to get back to normal as quickly as possible. Maybe someday normal wouldn't feel weird anymore. Maybe then her memories of this past Iditarod would be wiped out and replaced by different memories.
Better to be content with what she had, Lily decided, rather than miss what she didn't. But oh, God, how she missed Derek.
Instead of lingering outside between the house and the barn like the Little Match Girl, Lily tugged at the barn door with both hands. The door was locked. "Geez, Joe!" She pounded a couple of times. No answer. Tugging up her collar, she started walking around to the other side of the enormous structure, wishing she'd grabbed her flashlight from the glove box.
She'd attend Derek's father's wedding in a couple of days because it would be rude not to, and she'd make sure she didn't stand too close to Derek. Didn't look into his eyes. Didn't smell his familiar, know-it-in-the-dark fragrance. She'd hear him talk, but she wouldn't listen to the timbre of his voice. And she would not touch him. Under any circumstances, Lily promised her heart, she would absolutely, positively not touch him. She wouldn't get close, because one touch from him would make her melt like snow in a microwave oven. And after his father's wedding—she wasn't sure.
So much had happened recently. Even the race had been anticlimactic. It had felt odd not finishing. Odd driving through Nome in the wrong direction, and seeing the crowds waiting for the first team to ride under the banner, through the rearview mirror.
Still, parts of the journey had been breathlessly exciting as well. Derek kissing her. Derek making love to her. Sharing a sleeping bag. Hearing his voice in her ear for mile after mile. Defusing a bomb and landing a plane had just been the cherry on the sundae. But during that time with Derek, she'd learned something—not just that she loved the man, which she hadn't expected at all, but that she was more fearless than she'd ever guessed.
She'd defused a bomb, for Pete's sake.
She'd landed a plane.
And she'd fallen in love with a man who was probably destined to break her heart without even trying.
She shook her head at herself as she pulled open the enormous barn door and slipped inside, inhaling the familiar fragrances that never failed to ground her. Animal and straw. This, this is what she'd miss if she left Montana. She was doing a job she loved, which was more than most people could say. Surely, she told her aching heart, surely this would eventually become enough.
Lily stripped off her coat, hat and scarf, and called out, "Hey, Joe? I'm here. Front door's locked."
"In back," he called, sounding worried.
Lily hastened her steps, boots crunching in the straw as she followed his voice to a back stall. "What's the prob—Don?"
She saw Don Singleton first, simply because he was the only face she recognized. Lily looked around uncomprehendingly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Joe lying on his stomach against the far wall. Dead or alive? He hadn't called to her.
"Run, for chrissake!" Don yelled, struggling in the hold of a man as big as a sumo wrestler.
The stall was filled with men. "What on earth—" Her words ended in a scream as a beefy arm, coming out of nowhere, wrapped about her throat from behind and pulled her half off her feet. Her medical bag thudded to the floor.
The arm around her throat tightened and Lily was pulled hard against the person behind her. She made a sound like a cat with a hairball, and grabbed the beefy forearm with both hands, trying to yank it from her neck as she choked. Instead of loosening his grip, the man held her more tightly, cutting off her air. She gagged again.
Another man stepped out of the shadows. "Give the good doctor a little more air, Serg." The arm loosened fractionally, and light-headed, Lily sucked in a gulp of oxygen. "Good evening, Dr. Munroe."
She had no idea who he was; she'd never seen him before in her life. She noted he was medium height. Solid build. Eastern European accent. And most important, he had a handgun. A large handgun. Pointed right at her.
Lily's blood ran cold. Lord, the thing was looking bigger every second. One shot from it and she'd be nothing but a messy spot on the straw at his feet. She didn't think there'd be time to feel any pain. Small comfort.
She struggled against the stranglehold around her neck. "Let me go this instant. Who the hell are you gu—Oh my God!" At a nod from the man with the gun, the sumo wrestler behind Don reached up and casually slit his throat. Horrified, unbelieving, Lily stared as, eyes open and startled, Don crumpled to the straw. Blood pumped from the obscene wound in his neck. Her gaze darted to the man in charge. The man whose gun didn't waver by so much as a hair. Bathed in a cold sweat, Lily felt her heart jerk and stutter as he stepped closer.
"He served his purpose by leading us here. Now I have a small request of you, Dr. Munroe."
"I'm not doing you any favors if that's how you repay them," Lily snapped, mouth dry. She stuck her hand in her hip pocket.
The gun jerked as he said impatiently, "Please to remove your hand from your pocket, Doctor."
"Sorry," she muttered, buying time and not immediately following his command, feeling for the flat little numbers on her cell phone. "I'm going to do exactly what you want. Look, I'm scared." Fear could actually focus the mind, she thought. And besides, once you've stared down a bomb, the muzzle of a pointed pistol just didn't have the same impact.
She pushed what she hoped was number one on her speed dial. "See, no problem here, just emptying my pockets to show you all I have is chewing gum." She pulled her hand out, palms facing outward, gum clutched in one of them in what she hoped was a conciliatory gesture.
"See how cooperative I am? There's no need for any more bloodshed. Want some?" She offered a stick of gum. Keep him talking, and hope that Derek picks up his phone in the middle of supper with his family. Pray he hadn't left his cell upstairs, or in the car or—
He jerked the barrel up to indicate she could go ahead. Lily took her time unwrapping the strip of gum she didn't want, then stuck it in her mouth. "Who are you guys and what do you want?"
"My name is Milos Pekovic." He stepped closer. He stood four feet away, and Lily could smell his too sweet cologne and old sweat. "I am an old friend of Mr. Wright's," he said smoothly. His brown hair was slicked off his face. His eyes were dark and dead-looking and he had terrible teeth. Heroin or bad dental hygiene, Lily thought. As if she'd ever get the chance to identify him in a line-up.
It didn't take a brain surgeon to realize these men were completely out of their element in a barn in the depths of a Montana winter. From their accent she figured they were Slavic—Derek's terrorists? Could they be? Her entire body went hot, then numbingly cold. Could be. Were.
"I would like for you to contact Mr. Wright, and request he come here to the barn."
Fear was replaced by a spurt of something hot and ferocious. No. No way! "He's out of town."
"No, Doctor. He is in the house. Give her the phone," he instructed one of the shadow men on Lily's periphery. A man thrust a cell phone at her. "Make the call," Pekovic said coldly.
Lily ignored the man beside her, and didn't reach for the instrument. She was banking on Derek hearing the conversation and being warned. "I don't know the number."
"It is preprogrammed. Hold the phone for the good doctor, Demitri."
Jake manned the phone in the house, ready to field Lily's call. But he'd let the phone ring for a while. Headset on so he could hear what was going down, Derek ran lightly across the wide-open expanse separating the house from the barn.
They'd split up. Derek, Kane, Kyle and Hunt to the barn, Jake on the phone, his dad, Michael and several of the other guests, many of them T-FLAC operatives, getting everyone out of the house to safety. No easy task with a houseful of women, many of them pregnant, and half a dozen small kids. How the hell had Pekovic found him? Derek wondered as he approached the south door of the barn and watched the others melt around the building as planned. Followed someone from the race. There were only four people it could possibly have been: himself, Lily, Matt and Don Singleton.
Immaterial at this point. Derek was chilled to the bone imagining Lily within a thousand miles of the Butcher. The only thing that kept him marginally sane was that Pekovic could easily have killed her already. But that wasn't his way. He'd play with her like a cat with a mouse. Teasing and taunting. Waiting for the person he really wanted to show up.
He'd been praying Lily would call him all freaking week. This wasn't exactly the joyous reunion he'd envisaged.
"There's no answer," Lily said, her voice only slightly muffled.
"He will answer eventually." Pekovic's voice. Straw rustled loudly. Derek heard Lily's breathing. A little fast. I'm on my way, sweetheart. Hang tough.
"You must be pretty scared of Derek to bring—what? Twelve guys with you?" Don't push him, sweetheart, Derek thought, grateful for the information. He knew his brothers, circling the building, had heard. They'd already eliminated seven men outside.
There were more somewhere. Pekovic never traveled without an army. He let the others do their jobs and concentrated on his.
The straw was as noisy as walking on broken glass. Grateful he wasn't wearing his heavy work boots, Derek walked as lightly as he could, keeping to the side wall and the deeper shadows. The swelling in his face had gone down. But he was still having problems with his vision. His twenty-twenty was shot to hell. The barn was dark except for the glow in the stall up ahead.
"I can't breathe. Tell this guy to let go of me," Lily demanded, her voice a little high with fear. Derek was proud she was maintaining her composure nevertheless. He heard the faint tap in his ear, indicating Kyle was in. Kane and Hunt would stay outside until needed.
"Better—" Lily. "Still no answer."
"He will answer. Bring her to me." Pekovic.
Derek moved faster.
Lily's indignant, "Hey!" Then a small, "Oh my God. Don't cut me, please don't cut me."
The Butcher held her at knifepoint.
Derek tapped out a quick code alerting the others he was going in. Now.
He vaulted over the six-foot wall separating him from the action. In the air he calculated where everyone stood. Then he completed the jump and was over the barricade in a flurry of motion. He executed a roundhouse kick to the guy closest to him, taking him down expediently with a foot to the jaw. A second later he got off two shots in quick succession, hitting two more men.
"Hold your fire!" Pekovic shouted into the chaos. He had Lily tucked under his chin and was using her as a shield. He held a small, razor-sharp blade to her arched throat. A thin line welled red against her pale skin. Derek blocked out the sight of Lily's terror-wide eyes.
"Hold your fire," Pekovic demanded, pulling Lily even more tightly against his body. "Or I will kill the doctor."
The Serb's men unwillingly stopped firing, but kept their weapons trained on Derek.
"Hurt her, scumbag," Derek told his old enemy dangerously, "and I'll give you a run for your money with that fucking knife."
"An eye for an eye, my friend. An eye for an eye. You killed my Irena, I will accept the life of Dr. Munroe in exchange."
Irena? The woman at the facility? "Not acceptable." Derek kept his attention on the Serb, but knew exactly where his men stood and to a bullet the strength of their firepower. The Oslukivati leader wanted him to watch him gut Lily, and when he was assured Derek was insane with rage and pain, he planned to slice him. Slowly.
Not gonna happen. Derek spread his feet in the straw. "Irena was part of our war," Derek told the other man coldly. "Dr. Munroe isn't. It's me you want. Let her go."
Pekovic laughed. "You are the fly in the ointment of my life, Mr. Wright. Always butting in where you are least wanted. Today you do not—how do you say? Call the shots. Throw down your weapons. It is finished."
A dozen weapons snicked around him.
Keeping eye contact with his nemesis, Derek lifted his arms away from his body, as though he were about to toss both the Walther and Baer aside. The Serb kept Lily's body between them. But the Serb was at least a foot taller. In a lightning fast move, Derek lifted the Baer and shot Pekovic square between the eyes. Lily screamed. A nanosecond later he hit the man closest to his nemesis with a bullet to the cheekbone from the Walther. Lily dropped to the ground, still in the Serb's arms. Derek didn't know if she'd been hit, but couldn't stop now. Two men came at him at the same time. One got off a shot that missed his head by a hair. He ignored the brush of death and fired again. Two-fisted. He got them both as they charged.
The next guy was on him before the dust settled. Derek dipped his shoulder and hefted the guy aside, then chopped down with the Baer until the oaf's gun hand went numb and his weapon flew across the stall and thudded against the wall. Another man charged him, fists raised like a prizefighter's. Derek stepped in with his right foot and let the man's momentum spin him around. Before the Serb regained his footing, Derek gra
bbed the back of the man's head by his hair, and thumped him hard against the back wall. A crunch indicated the guy was down for the duration.
He could hear gunshots and screams from outside the barn. His reinforcements were busy with problems of their own. Another bullet skimmed his forehead by a hot breath; he lunged for the man, doing a flying tackle that took them both down. Straw and chaff flew as they rolled.
Lily screamed. Derek took his eye off his opponent for a split second. Was Pekovic still alive? Jesus Christ—
A blow, stunning in its force, jerked his head to one side as the man used the butt of his pistol to strike his temple. A shower of bright lights peppered Derek's vision. He flipped the man, and pressed his forearm into the guy's beefy throat.
The man's eyes widened. He gagged, fighting for air. Derek pressed harder. The Oslukivati operative's eyes bulged as his face turned purple. Another deep press and it was over.
Derek raced over to where Lily and Pekovic lay entwined like lovers. Neither was moving. He shoved the Oslukivati leader off her. The man was quite dead; hard not to be with half his face blown off.
Derek wrapped his arms around Lily. She shook like a leaf in the wind as she rolled over and grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands. She buried her face against his chest. He tightened his arms around her, cupping the back of her head in one hand. Close. Too freaking close—
"I-is it over?" she demanded, voice wobbly.
The gunshots and yelling outside had diminished somewhat. Every now and then he'd hear a pop. Pekovic couldn't have chosen a worse time to come calling. The ranch was thick with T-FLAC operatives here for the wedding.
He separated a little way from Lily to scan her face. "Are you cut? Shot? Hurt?"
She blinked up at him, her eyes a little dazed, mouth trembling. "No. No, I'm f-fine."
She was covered with blood, her face and hair splattered. Pekovic's. Derek rose with her in his arms. She was going to put up a fight, but screw it, he needed her as close as possible…
Unpredictable little hedgehog. Her head flopped to his chest and she wrapped her arms about his neck. Her damp breath tickled his throat. He tightened his arms around her convulsively. Jesus. Close. So close.