by Melinda Minx
I see his arm go up, and I know from instinct—from the way his shape moves—that he’s got a gun. I sprint across the brush, and I dive behind a small bush as I hear the gun explode out into the night.
His shot must have been piss poor, because I don’t even hear the whizz of the bullet. He fires again and again, and now I hear bullets cutting through the foliage, just half a foot from me.
I wait. I figure he’s got a handgun of some kind, and it’s likely legally purchased—this is a suicide mission for him—so it won’t matter to him that they can trace the gun back to him. If the gun is legal, it won’t have more than ten shots. Aiden’s not a good shot, and he won’t be able to reload quickly. He’s fired four shots already.
I need to taunt him to waste more ammo.
“I’m a better shot than you,” I shout out through the bush. “I’ve just got a revolver, though...six shots.”
“Bullshit,” Aiden shouts. “You’re not carrying.”
I’m not, but I at least put the doubt into his mind. If he thinks there’s any chance I’m armed, he’ll be more afraid, and his shots will be off even more.
He starts to run from the road down into the snow. Away from me, putting my truck between us.
Shit. I miscalculated. He doesn’t care if he takes me out—if he can get to Andrea, he’s won.
I sprint out of the brush and charge toward him. He won’t lay a finger on that truck without going through me first.
Once he sees me out of the brush, he stops and takes aim.
I don’t stop.
I’m a few feet away from him when I hear the gun go off—when I feel the bullet tear into my side.
But only one bullet hits me. I leap and tackle him. No flag football belt this time. I knock him hard against the snow, and when I see the gun coming up toward me, I swat it effortlessly out of his hand.
I feel a burning in my side, but I’m not dead, so I’m not done. He didn’t hit my spine, and he didn’t hit any vital organs. Worst case is some bad internal bleeding or infection. But neither of those will stop me from protecting Andrea right in this moment.
He lunges at me, right for where the bullet hit. I meet his nose with my knee, and I hear a satisfying crack as he goes down.
I clench my fist and consider taking him out for good, but the police sirens wail in the distance, and I know how bad it will be for me if I step over the line of self-defense. I settle for stepping on him. I grind my boot into his back, and then I lower myself down until I’m pinning him with my knees and hands. Blood from my gunshot wound drips all over him.
“Sorry I’m getting your clothes all bloody,” I grunt. “Maybe you shouldn’t have fucking shot me?”
“Fuck you!” Aiden spits.
“Violating the restraining order,” I say. “Vehicular manslaughter, whatever the fuck lawyers call it when you shoot someone, want me to keep listing all the shit you’re not going to get away with?”
He fights against me, but I press my knee harder into his spine, and I grind my elbows into his bones.
“Andrea, Rita,” I shout. “I got him. Everything’s gonna’ be fine.”
23
Andrea
“He got him?” Rita whispers to me, her voice trembling. “There was a gunshot...did he?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “You’re safe, though, either way. Coal won’t let anything happen to us.”
Did he? Did he kill Aiden? He might have. I pray that he didn’t. If he showed restraint, it will help his case out a lot. If he fired that gun, I don’t know what will happen.
Wait.
“Coal!” I shout. “Are you okay? Did you get shot?”
Silence.
“I need to get out of here,” I say, trying to climb up the tipped over truck toward the driver’s side door.
“Stay here!” Rita snaps. “Just wait for the police, they’re almost here!”
“Coal may have been the one who was shot!” I say, then I shout back out toward him. “I’m coming, Coal!”
“Shit, Andrea,” he shouts back. “Look, I got shot, okay? But I’m fine. Don’t come out until the cops are here. I’ve got this worm under my boot, I don’t want him biting you.”
Jesus. He did get shot. You can’t trust a man when he says it’s “okay” or “no big deal.” For all I know, he’s bleeding out and needs my help.
I grab hold of the seat belt and the steering wheel. “Rita, boost me up.”
“Coal said to stay put.”
“Do you think I’m always going to do what Coal says while we’re married?” I ask. “Fuck that. Boost me!”
Rita groans and pushes my feet up as I pull on the wheel and seat belt. Once I’m above the wheel, I get my feet on top of it and push off and out of the truck.
In the distance, I see Coal crouched down over Aiden. They are both dark and shadowy figures, but Coal is definitely the one on top.
“Coal,” I call down to him. “I’m coming.”
“Damn it, Andrea! Stay there!”
I ignore him. I crawl over the top of the door frame, then jump off into the snow.
I land on the snow in a low crouch.
“Don’t get near him,” Coal says.
The sirens are loud now, I can barely hear him over them.
I take a few steps closer, but not close enough that Aiden could try to grab me. I don’t know what Aiden could really do, considering that Coal has him pinned to the ground like a dead butterfly.
“You know why I dumped you in college?” Aiden snorts up at me.
Shit. I realize straight away what he’s trying to do. I realize I should have stayed in the truck. He’s going to try to get Coal to do something stupid.
“Coal,” I say. “Ignore him.”
“I don’t care what this little shit says.”
“I broke up with you,” Aiden says, “because you’re a useless fucking little bitch, who—”
Coal flips Aiden around and slams his elbow into his face.
My eyes widen in horror as I prepare for the flurry of blows that will kill Aiden—just moments before the police arrive—but the blows don’t come.
Coal stands up and lets out a long sigh.
“I was getting tired from pinning the fucker down anyway,” Coal says, wiping his hands off on his jeans.
“Come here,” I say, pulling on his arm.
I check the gunshot wound. It’s on his side and bleeding. There’s not enough light to see if the blood is dark or not. I struggle to remember if dark blood is good or bad.
Shadows cast across the snow and over Aiden’s unconscious body. I look up and see police and EMTs trekking down through the snow.
“He’s been shot!” I shout, waving my hands. “And my sister is trapped in the truck, but she’s not injured!”
Coal laughs and grabs hold of me, squeezing me tight. “So, you still want to get a cabin on Lake Chabot?”
24
Coal
I walk up to the courthouse with Andrea and her whole family. There are throngs of people crowding around, and when they see me they start to cheer.
I sigh, and my side starts to sting. The bullet wound is still pretty fresh, and the pain from it is lingering around like no gunshot I’ve ever taken. Maybe I’m too old to be getting shot?
“Look at all this support,” Andrea says, squeezing my hand.
I read through some of the protestors’ signs.
‘We don’t lock up heroes!’
‘Justice for Coal Winters’
‘Let Coal go free!’
‘Our streets are safer with Coal on them!’
And so on. A lot of people are on my side. I smile as the crowd parts for me and erupts into cheers. I’ve got a good feeling about everything, but I haven’t said that to Andrea—she’d just get mad at me for jinxing it.
We step into the courthouse and check-in with the receptionist. She points us to Justice Montero’s chambers.
This is all going to be settled out of the cou
rtroom. No fancy trial, not even Montero hitting her gavel in the courtroom.
Montero is standing in the hall outside when we turn the corner. She’s an older woman with deep frown lines etched across her face.
“Mr. and Mrs. Winters,” she says, “I’d like to see you two first. The rest of you, please wait outside.”
“Our lawyer isn’t here yet,” Andrea says. “He texted us that he’s a few minutes away.”
“You won’t need a lawyer for this.”
Andrea gives me an uneasy look, but I tug her and follow Montero.
We sit down across from her at her big, fancy desk.
“I’m not incriminating myself,” I say, “if that’s what you’re trying to pull here.”
I cross my arms and grin at Montero.
“Nice ring, Mrs. Winters,” Montero says, pointing down at Andrea’s engagement ring. “Curious that you wear your engagement ring when you’re already married.”
Andrea crosses her arms and hides the ring.
“Yeah,” I say. “And that’s why we’re waiting for our lawyer.”
“I know your marriage was bullshit,” Montero says. “I know you beat that guy to a pulp, Winters. It was rage—revenge—anger, not self-defense. To me, that’s manslaughter with mitigating circumstances. Old Curly probably could have got a deal for you with three to five years served. I was going to bring it to trial.”
I bite my lip and slouch in my chair. Andrea keeps her mouth shut, too.
“But now you’re a hero SEAL. We’ve got a real problem with police brutality in California—we have for decades—”
“I ain’t a cop,” I say.
Idiot. I should keep my mouth shut.
“No,” Montero says, “you’re not, but having someone employed by the government going berserk and killing someone doesn’t look good.”
I give her a cocky smirk. The protestors outside sure as hell think I looked good.
“Right,” Montero says. “But you got lucky. It seems that angry men are magnetically attracted to you, Mr. Winters. You showed serious restraint in your last encounter with Aiden Alderson...even after he shot you. And he violated his restraining order.”
“Where’s Curly?” I mutter.
“I’m throwing out the case, Mr. Winters. Punishing you according to the law would have looked good for the court, if we had been able to prosecute after the first incident.”
I laugh, mostly from relief, but also a bit of spite. “It’s all about how good you look, huh? Forget about the fact that I served my country, that I protected you, just lock me up and throw away the key if it makes you look good—”
Montero raises a finger, then says, “Yes, well, I was wrong. I heard my own family talking about you over Christmas, and I realized that you did make a mistake—a big one—but with all things considered...it’s an understandable mistake. If we tried to take you to trial now, it would not only make me look bad, it wouldn’t be fair. In the end, I am most interested in justice.”
Andrea squeezes my hand, and I grin at her. It looks like she’s about to cry. No, strike that, she is crying.
“Ahh,” I say, “come on, don’t cry.”
“I’m just so relieved,” she says. “We can get marri—”
She puts a hand over her mouth.
“Mrs. Winters,” Montero says. “You don’t have to pretend, I already know it was bogus, what counts is that it’s real now, right?”
I laugh. Even the old witch judge is happy we’re getting hitched.
The door bursts open, and Curly rushes in. His face is red, he’s panting, and his hair is matted back with sweat.
“Tell me you didn’t say a word,” he says, huffing for air.
“We won,” I say. “You won it for us, Curly.”
“We…” he gasps for air and look around the room, then at Montero. “We...won?”
“You won, Vance,” Montero says, pointing up at him. Her face transforms back into a real witch’s frown.
“Curly, just call me—”
“Vance. Muller!” Montero says, pointing at him. “If you ever pull that fake marriage in the police holding cell bullshit again, I’ll see to it that I personally oversee every single one of your cases. I will make your entire career a living hell. Do you understand me, Vance?”
Sweat beads roll down his face like waterfalls, but he nods without speaking.
“Do you need to talk to my family at all?” Andrea asks.
“Yes,” Montero says. “But not about your case. I need to prep them for their testimony against Mr. Alderson. You two are ready as well, yes?”
“Hell yeah,” I say. “Lock him up and throw away the key.”
“I have to remain impartial,” Montero says, “but…”
She lets out the slightest hint of a smile.
25
Andrea
“I’m so nervous,” I say to Rita. “I don’t want to sweat and ruin my makeup.”
“Why are you nervous?” Rita asks. “You’re already married.”
“Everyone is going to be watching me,” I say.
“Well,” Rita says, “that’s true, because you look freaking amazing in that dress.”
“That makes me feel more nervous,” I say. “You should say I look like crap and that everyone will be looking at Coal.”
“Well,” Rita says. “Coal in his military uniform? I think at least half of the eyes will be on him.”
Rita looks great, too, as maid of honor. At least a portion of all the eyes will be on her—and all the other bridesmaids.
“Okay,” I say, psyching myself up. “That does make me feel a bit better.”
Dave, the wedding planner, runs in and says, “Andrea! You’re ready?”
I give a nervous nod and stand up.
“Just enjoy yourself,” Dave says. “This is your day, screw everyone else, yeah?”
Hmmm. I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’d been thinking that a wedding is for everyone else—that so many people had to pay to travel out, or to hassle themselves to find dresses to wear—but really it is my day. I should enjoy that.
“Thanks, Dave.”
Here Comes the Bride starts to play, and I take in a deep breath, then start to truly enjoy myself. I only get to walk out to this song wearing an insanely elegant dress once in my life. I might as well enjoy it.
Dad is standing at the double doors in his tux, and he smiles at me as I approach. “You look beautiful, baby.”
“I’m sweating like a nervous pig,” I say, my voice cracking. “I don’t feel beautiful.”
Dad puts his hands on my arms and looks right into my eyes. “You are beautiful.”
Something about his face or the tone in his voice makes me really feel it, and my nervousness starts to melt away.
“This song isn’t going to last forever,” Dad says. “Let’s go.”
He takes me by the arm, and Dave opens the doors for us.
I step into the sanctuary, and every face in the church turns back to look at me. Every single eye is on me, but I only see one pair: Coal’s.
His wintry blue eyes are locked onto me, and he looks absolutely gorgeous in his military uniform. His muscular frame fills it out perfectly, but the rigid façade of his neatly pressed uniform can’t truly contain everything that is Coal Winters. He looks like he’s always ready to act, and at a moment’s notice he could pop the uniform off with one good flex and be ready to fight—to protect me.
I’m not nervous anymore, all the eyes on me don’t even matter. This wedding is just for Coal and me, no one else. He’s all I see and all that matters, and I can’t get to him fast enough.
Not in this dress at least. I move at the pace I’m supposed to, the one I rehearsed with Dave. Any faster and I’d risk falling flat on my face.
But finally, after what feels like eons, I’m standing side-by-side with my husband and fiancé—soon to be just my husband.
Coal looks at me as if he’s seeing me again for the first time. Except t
his time I’m not soaking wet and freezing in the snow—though I am wrapped up all in white.
The pastor begins to speak. We considered having Curly marry us again…but Curly told us he’s done officiating. Coal suspected that Justice Montero put the fear of God into him, and that he’d never officiate a wedding ever again.
“I vow,” Coal starts, “to love you, to cherish you, and to protect you. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part. I vow to listen to you, Andrea, especially when I don’t want to. I’ve done enough stupid stuff to last us both for the rest of our long life together, and I’m pretty sure that if I really listen to you, I can keep us out of trouble.”
Everyone laughs. It’s not the most traditional vow, but it means the world to me.
Coal’s family is much smaller than mine, and I’ve only had dinner with his parents once. They intimidated me at first, but once they saw how much Coal cared about me, they softened up very quickly. I notice his Mom is wiping her eyes as I finish speaking my vows.
The ring bearer—my little eight-year-old, soon-to-be nephew Casey—begins to walk down the aisle toward us. His face is all scrunched up and his brows furrowed. He’s taking the job very seriously, his first real grown-up responsibility that he’s ever had.
He presents the rings to us. Coal and I exchange the rings, and I notice even more people are crying now.
I teared up a little during Coal’s vows, but I’m too happy to keep crying now. It’s almost happened—we’re almost married for real now.
The pastor speaks again: “Though you were already legally married under the legal statutes of the State of California, having said your vows and having exchanged rings, I now will marry you in the presence of your friends and family, and in the eyes of the Lord…”
I feel my chest nearly exploding open with excitement. My heart is on fire, and when the pastor finally says, “you may kiss the bride,” elation and bliss and every emotion I’ve ever felt in the world surges through me.
And then Coal grabs hold of me and pulls me into his big arms. Our lips meet, and then our tongues. Warmth floods through every inch of me, and I smile wide even as I kiss my husband.