Firstborn

by Carrigan Fox

  Holt had nothing to lose and everything to gain. He wasn’t going to hold them hostage. He was going to kill them.

  “Hold position and watch for signs of Jac and Will. It looks like Holt has both of them inside.”

  “Shall we dance, Basia?” Sean asked, using the Polish term for boss lady with a hint of respect and affection.

  “Two minutes. Then we dance.”

  She stood for two minutes, watching the windows and straining to hear any kind of noise from the building. Standing rigidly to avoid any nervous fidgeting, she almost told her team to “move in” no fewer than four times. Finally, she did a mental countdown with the second hand of her watch. But before she could give her team the verbal nod, chaos erupted inside, with shouting and gunfire echoing through the silent night.

  ***

  Will watched intently, silently pleading with Jac to wake up and fight. His nose still hurt from where Holt had pressed his gun a few minutes before. Now, the man was twenty paces across the room, watching the window for signs of police involvement. Through the doorway stalked the blond man, approaching rapidly with the extra chair.

  Jac lay still on the ground, silently pleading with Will to stay silent so that she could listen carefully to determine how close the approaching man was before she launched her defense. His footsteps echoed around her. He had to put down the chair. It might be easier to take his weapon if his hands were preoccupied, but that also gave him another weapon to use against her. She imagined him swinging a fold-up chair against her skull. No thank you. He was drawing nearer and her muscles were beginning to spasm with readiness.

  “Come on, Jac!” Will yelled, urging her to wake up and defend herself.

  Beside her head, she heard the legs of the chair touch the floor.

  Inspired, she sprung to her feet and whirled to face the blond. She reached beside her, closed her fingers around the back of the chair, and swung it up through the air at his face. He flung his arms up to deflect the blow, and Jac took great pleasure in the sound of the chair colliding with his forearm. Even above the contact, she heard the snap of his bone and watched him curl protectively around his arm.

  With a quick inventory, she discovered that Holt was across the room and quickly closing in as he drew his gun. Again, she used the chair, hurling it through the air in his direction. Like the blond, he turned his back and used his arms to protect his head while Jac lunged for the blond.

  Using her fists, she punched him in the broken arm and then delivered an uppercut when he hunched over. She reached for the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, while he lay unaware and holding his broken arm. He moaned in agony and then cried out more loudly when he tried to move his broken jaw. Relying on him to lose consciousness, she pivoted back to Holt at the same instant when he fired his gun. A half second before the bullet struck her, she aimed and got a shot off.

  Holt’s bullet ripped through her right shoulder, throwing her off balance for a moment. Her shot, however, had been spot on and had taken Holt down. Favoring her arm, she shifted her gun to her left hand and strode toward Holt while periodically training her gun back on the blond who was still conscious on the floor beside Will. She knelt beside the body and kicked his gun out of reach of both him and his partner. A quick check of his pulse indicated that he was dead, though the entry wound between his eyes was also a good indication.

  She finally dared to look at Will and saw relief and horror in his beautiful eyes. His glasses were crushed on the ground, probably destroyed by one of the blows that Holt had dealt to his face.

  And then the blond man was on his feet, taking a play from Jac MaCall’s playbook, and a knife was in his hand as he lunged for Will. His blade was aimed at Will’s throat as Jac cried out and raised her weapon. But before she could pull the trigger, an explosion sounded and lifted the blond, throwing him into the doctor’s lap.

  Fearing that the blade would wound Will or that the blond was still alive, Jac raced to his side and pulled the body off, only breathing when the man’s dead body crumpled to the floor. Will had streaks of blood on him, streaks that had Jac gasping for air and fighting to remain conscious.

  “And that’s why you wait for your flipping reinforcements,” Taryn scolded her older sister from the doorway, her own gun in hands.

  Jac turned to her sister to give her a piece of her own mind and promptly passed out.

  ***

  Aislin Kearney received the call that all was clear and that her friend and Dr. Archer were safe as she was preparing to take a cotton swab to the keyboard, carefully cleaning between each and every key. She had never been what one would consider a neat freak, but she needed desperately to do something to make up for the damage she had caused Jac. But now that they were okay, she could give herself a break. And then Taryn dropped the other shoe.

  Adam had been killed.

  Her Adam. Her Mr. Perfect. He really had been a perfect boyfriend. A large part of her knew that he had only used her for her visions, but she couldn’t regret those weeks of being treated as royalty by a man as attractive and intelligent as Adam Holt. But now he was gone, and she had to accept that she might never feel that cherished again. Or that important.

  Tears sprung to her eyes as she remembered her mother. She had been cherished by her own father for most of her life. And Aislin was absolutely certain that she would have wanted the same for her own daughter. She deserved it.

  Lifting her chin, she removed the card from her back pocket. John Rundstrom was unavailable. He was married, after all. His two sons were nearly grown and were the spitting image of their attractively distinguished-looking father. She could never have a romantic relationship with John. But did she need one?

  She reflected again on her short relationship with Adam. Had she fallen in love with him? She honestly had to admit that she loved the way he treated her and the feeling of being valued. And a man of John Rundstrom’s power certainly had the resources to make her feel valued and important. Even without the romance, John Rundstrom could cherish Aislin Kearney for the gift that she had to offer him.

  Knowing that she had some serious thinking to do, Aislin turned out the lights of Triskele and locked the door behind her.

  C

  hapter 18

  “I hope you aren’t disappointed, but I begged Will to let me drive you home.”

  “Hey,” Jac greeted her sister as she entered her hospital room.

  “No problems with the surgery?”

  “No problems. It was minor. Just extracting a little bullet. No big deal,” she joked in good humor.

  “Did you see Detective Wilson today? Dad told me that they’re bringing in the various militia members to interrogate them about their involvement.”

  “Good. Holt said it was nobody but him and his two henchmen, but it’s good to double check.”

  “It’s done, Jac. Now you can get on with your life.”

  Jaclyn smiled in relief, though she wasn’t convinced that it was over. It seemed as long as someone was aware of the impact that their boy would have on the future, there would always be someone coming after them.

  “How’s the baby?”

  “He’s good. The doctor said I’m due in another thirty-five weeks. But the baby is fine. How are you?”

  Taryn shrugged good-naturedly. “Nobody wants to kill me. So I’m fine. Granted, I have a stubborn big sister who is a bit of an idiot sometimes. I think she took three years off of my life last night, but I’m fine.”

  “Whiner,” Jac teased her baby sister.

  “I’m allowed to whine. I thought I was going to lose you, you know. And I’ve even grown fond of Will. I think it’s his PhD that makes him so charming.”

  The two women giggled together.

  “We’re getting married.”

  “I heard.”

  “Fiji wedding. Do you need a vacation?”

  Taryn’s face lit up at the prospect of helping to plan a destination wedding and to reap the travel benefits as
the maid of honor.

  “Sooner rather than later. We’re thinking next month.”

  “That’s not nearly enough time for me to meet Prince Charming so that I can bring him along for some island romance and beautiful sunsets.”

  Jac laughed. “You could always call your mechanic. You admitted he was hot.”

  He definitely got her blood stirring, Taryn thought to herself. But he had a knack for infuriating her. She hadn’t shared her second encounter with anyone else. She wasn’t sure what to make of it herself just yet. Instead of responding to her sister, she pulled out a small square box.

  “What is that?” Jac cooed.

  “It’s a Thank God You Didn’t Get Yourself Killed Even Though You’re a Dimwit gift. I picked it out myself.”

  Jac removed the purple colored ribbon and popped open the jewelry box. Inside lay a beautiful necklace. It was an amethyst stone on a silver chain. And when she lifted it out of the box, she realized that the symbol of the triskele was engraved in the stone.

  “I love it.”

  “I had a dream about Mom last week. She suggested it. What made you choose that particular symbol as the name of your store?” Taryn asked, never having shown much interest in it before.

  “It’s got a number of meanings, and that meaning changes depending on the period of time and the organization using it.”

  “Are you familiar with the triple goddess?”

  Jac looked up into her sister’s flame blue eyes with surprise. “I’m surprised that you’re familiar with that term. What is this new interest of yours?”

  “The triple goddess,” she urged her sister.

  “Maiden, mother, and crone. It’s about the powers of women in their various stages. Others believe that the triskele has a connection with pregnancy and its trimesters.”

  “I thought it was an appropriate symbol given our family history and our future.”

  “You, me, and mom,” Jac suggested as the triple goddess.

  Taryn smirked and nodded. “More or less.”

  Jac studied her sister curiously before concluding, “You’ve had a vision.”

  Taryn put her hand in her sister’s. “I have. I think that it’s time I accept them. Given the future of this baby, I might even have to embrace the visions.”

  ***

  Less than an hour later, Taryn slid into a booth across from a tall man with hair that had once been dark. Now, he bore a full head of silver hair and preferred to use it as a reason to garner even more respect. Not that he needed any help in that area.

  “Did you talk to your sister?” he greeted.

  “I just left her at home.”

  “How does she look?”

  Taryn shrugged. “She’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He sipped his coffee and refused to answer. He wasn’t typically a man who avoided affection, but his eldest daughter’s daring tactics to rescue a client had been particularly nerve-wrecking. And when she lay there helpless in a hospital bed and introduced the client to him as her fiancée and the father of her baby, a small part of his heart broke. If Taryn had been the brains and brawn of the two girls, then Jaclyn had been the heart and soul. She reminded him so much of their mother, and he shuddered to think how close he had come to losing her.

  “How long are you going to avoid speaking to her?” Taryn accused.

  He raised his eyes suddenly and willfully. “I’m not giving her the silent treatment,” he protested. “I’m merely cooling my jets and giving her a chance to come to her senses. She’s been traumatized and cannot seriously mean to marry that stranger.”

  “He’s not exactly a stranger, Dad. They’ve worked closely with each other for many weeks now. Just because you didn’t get to know him over a consult and just because you weren’t the one to recognize how perfect they are for each other doesn’t mean that they are screwing things up.”

  “I’m not a complete ass, Taryn.”

  “Not completely,” she agreed with a dry twist of her lips.

  “I know that you and your sister are adults. I just also want to be able to keep you safe, even from heartbreak.”

  She looked sympathetically at her father and smiled sweetly. “You can’t protect us from heartbreak any more than you could keep us from sneaking out of our bedroom windows late at night to go to a party with underage drinking.”

  He frowned at her immediately. “Are you speaking hypothetically?”

  “Of course,” she answered with a patronizing pat to his hand on the table. “The point is that you need to leave Jac alone. She’s a big girl and can make her own choices when it comes to love. In the meantime, I’m a bit psychic and I happen to have gotten a vision that suggested that you didn’t want to meet to complain about the fact that your twenty-eight-year-old daughter had the audacity to select her own future husband without first asking for your recommendations and then for your blessing. So what’s up?”

  “I want your read on the situation. Did we avert a disaster or did we merely delay the inevitable? I don’t want this coming back to bite any of us in the ass.”

  She nodded, understanding his concern. The prospect of an entire militant organization coming after one of their own with the arsenal of weapons they undoubtedly had access to, it was a certain death. And since Jac had survived the attack and had gone home, she was an even easier target.

  “All evidence suggests that Adam Holt was working with only two other militia members on this, both of whom are now dead. Everything looks good, Dad. I think it’s safe to say that the threat has been eliminated.”

  He rubbed the scruff on his chin thoughtfully, ignoring the rasping sound he was making. “I still want detail on them.”

  “If you’re sure.” She clearly did not agree with him.

  “Permission to speak freely,” he suggested gruffly.

  She smirked at his decision to revert to his old military speak. “If Jac realizes you still have security guards following them around, and she will realize it, she will kill you.”

  “Sounds like that’s between Jac and me, doesn’t it?”

  “Dad, I’m eighty-five percent sure that none of the other militia members are privy to the prophecy and will, therefore, be leaving Jac and Will alone. And their baby, as well.”

  “Are you willing to gamble your nephew’s life over that other fifteen percent?”

  The typically warm and affectionate Joe MaCall had been gruff and crotchety since Jac had shared her news with him. He seemed to truly be floundering with the concept of his daughter being old enough to make such important decisions on her own. Personally, Taryn suspected he was wounded that she hadn’t asked for his advice or his approval.

  “What do you recommend?”

  He sipped his coffee again, shifting into MSC mode. “I recommend security detail on each of them as well as the house and both offices. I want a scheduled drive-by to monitor the details, as well. It would be easier to run detail if Jac and Will knew about it and supported it, but I suspect that she will refuse our assistance. And it’s easier to ask forgiveness of her than it is permission.”

  Taryn had to admit that it couldn’t hurt to assign the detail, except that it was going to take manpower and, therefore, money. MSC wasn’t hurting, but it seemed irresponsible to spend so needlessly.

  Her father recognized her doubt. “Holt had access to phone records and text messages. He hinted at unlimited resources. I’m not such a fool that I cannot believe a militia doesn’t have access to resources of their own, but something tells me that there is someone else involved.”

  Taryn had to admit that he had a point. “You’re the expert,” she finally admitted.

  “And I want you in charge of the detail.”

  That was just great. Now when Jaclyn realized what was happening right under her nose, she wasn’t going to just kill her dad. She would be going after her sister, as well.

  ***

  The following morning, Will woke her from his bed and dangle
d a bag with fresh bagels over her head.

  “I have fresh baked goods,” he taunted.

  “My gold star for saving your life, Dr. PhD?” she teased.

  “I have to admit to something. It’s been driving me mad with guilt for the last two days, and I need to get it off of my chest.”

  “You do have an exquisite chest.” She lifted her hand to run them over the muscles in his chest now covered with the thin cotton of his t-shirt. “Get me the cream cheese. I’d rather have this for breakfast.”

  He laughed and pushed her hand away. “Don’t tempt me, woman,” he scolded.

  “Okay, doc, what’s eating at you?”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “If I hadn’t seen you take out Holt and his associate, I would not have believed it myself. You leapt off of the floor and attacked one before charging across the room after the other. It seemed to be in slow motion, and yet it was over in an instant. You completely kicked ass.” He paused, but she didn’t interject. “It was hot, I won’t deny it. But it’s also a bit emasculating for me. Then you lifted the dead weight of the associate over your head and hurled him against the wall like the Incredible Hulkess.”

  “Now you’re going to embarrass me, Dr. Exaggeration.”

  “When you first collapsed at my feet…”

  “You thought I was dead,” she finished for him.

  “For a second. But I saw you breathing. That’s not it. The police raced in on the heels of your sister and for just a second, I found myself thinking that for once, it didn’t appear as though I was completely incompetent while you pulled your Wonder Woman heroics.”

  “Will, you were tied to a chair. Do you think that they thought you somehow turned into the Tazmanian Devil and tornadoed across the room to kill those men while I lay unconscious on the ground, your personal damsel in distress?”

  “Like I said, a bit emasculating,” he argued.