Running from Fate

by Connelly, Rose

  After glancing at the dead man with the knife sticking out of his throat, Devon holstered his gun and walked over to lay a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  Mira’s chest moved imperceptibly.

  “James,” Devon said loudly. When James didn’t respond he grabbed hold of his shoulder and shook. “James she’s not dead.”

  “What?” Pain filled eyes looked up, desperately begging for a hint of hope.

  “She’s badly hurt, but she’s not dead,” Devon reiterated. “We need to get her to a hospital. I called on the way over so an ambulance should be here soon.”

  “What about the other guy,” James growled.

  “Mitchell Haines. I recognize him from newspaper clippings. He was head of the company Mira worked for in California.”

  “Will he live?” The tone clearly said that if he was still alive he wouldn’t be soon.

  “No. He’s definitely dead. It looks like she got him in the jugular. Most of the blood is his.”

  “Good.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance, getting closer.

  Chapter 34

  The smell was unmistakable—the faint odor of bodily wastes mixed with a dose of fear and hopelessness and only vaguely disguised by the sharp smell of antiseptic. Before Mira opened her eyes she knew that she was in a hospital, but it still came as quite a surprise. She had felt the blood dripping steadily down her side and the horrible, crippling punch of the second bullet as it had hit her. When the world had turned gray she had assumed that was it, but it looked like she had been wrong.

  She was intensely gratefully that the numbing darkness had receded, but now that she was awake the pain intruded. It throbbed cruelly along her side where a line of neat little stitches kept her skin together and stabbed gleefully into her chest where doctors had dug a bullet from under her left shoulder. Later, she would be grateful for the unconscious pain in her side that had made her bend at the last moment and sent the bullet into her very upper chest instead of her heart, but now she just hurt.

  She tried to speak, to tell somebody, but her voice wouldn’t come. A heavy weight seemed to be pressing down on her and she couldn’t move.

  With a strength born from desperation, she focused all her energy on her right hand. It twitched slightly. Somebody must have noticed because she could barely make out a rough masculine voice coated with an undercurrent of fear. He said something to the doctors and a hint of Ireland leaked out. She felt a small sting in her arm, barely noticeable under the cover of pain, and the darkness tried to pull her back down. She fought against it, suddenly afraid of being alone and never coming back. A warm hand clasped hers and a rich voice murmured. It was enough. With a silent sigh of relief she let go.

  When awareness came again it was with the sound of beeping monitors and the happy trill of morning birdcall. The pain was still there, but now it was just a distant throb, held at bay by the wonders of medicine. With an effort she forced open sand-encrusted eyes and immediately closed them again, assaulted by the bright sunlight that flooded into the room. Quiet footsteps crossed the room and the flow of light was cut off. Moments later a chair squeaked next to the bed.

  “I know you’re awake,” a female voice said. “If you ever want to get out of here you need to make an effort. God you scared us,” she added, censure in her voice. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Lily,” Mira croaked in a parody of her usual voice. She opened her eyes again and blinked a few times to clear them. Her friend sat next to the bed looking a little wrinkled, but as beautiful as ever. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Paris.”

  Lily leaned forward and clasped Mira’s right hand. “You’re my best friend so of course I came when you needed me. Sarah wanted to come too, but her husband basically tied her up to prevent it. He didn’t want her flying when she was so pregnant. She has, however, called every hour and if you weren’t getting better she was all ready to hop in her car and drive here.”

  The image of petite Sarah standing up to her bear of a husband made Mira smile. It was nice to know she had such loyal friends. “Where’s Pat?” she asked, suddenly remembering the voice she had heard.

  “I sent the men home,” Lily said. She looked down at her manicured fingernails and her face subtly heated. “That detective sure is persistent. I could barely stop him from waking you and badgering you with questions.”

  The obscene image of her filet knife, sticking from a man’s throat, popped into Mira’s mind, banishing her curiosity over Lily’s blush. She pushed the picture away and cleared her throat. “What happened to Zeus?”

  At that question Lily looked up and smiled. “That butler of James’ probably has him sitting on a silk cushion eating steak.”

  “That sounds like Winston. He loves that dog.” Thinking of James, though, and the current unsettled state of their relationship made Mira uncomfortable and she shifted the topic. “When am I getting out of here?” she asked her friend.

  “As soon as you’re ready.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you will have to take it easy for a bit. I promised the doctors. Your arm will be stiff for a while,” she added. “But you were lucky. If I were you, though, I’d stay at home and let that beautiful man of yours take care of me.”

  The thought of going into that place ever again sent a cold chill down Mira’s spine. “I don’t know what to do,” she moaned. “I can’t stay at that house.”

  “Ok,” Lily replied with a wicked smile. “Why don’t you go and stay with James. By the way that man looks at you I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  The thought made Mira feel warm, but it wasn’t an option. When she had been lying on the floor, feeling the life leeching out of her, she had come to a decision. It was all or nothing. She refused to be the only one risking their heart. “I can’t stay with him,” she finally said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m in love with him.”

  Lily huffed out a breath. “That doesn’t make any sense Mira. I’ve never personally experienced the emotion, but if you love him, shouldn’t you want to be with him?”

  “I do, but I’m not the problem.” Mira gingerly got up and, with Lily’s help, put on the soft flowing dress that her friend held out. She might be cold, but at least it didn’t rub against her stitches. “He is. He doesn’t love me.”

  A nurse came in with a wheelchair and the conversation was put on hold. Lily, however, wouldn’t be satisfied that easily and she picked up the topic as soon as they were in the car. “Have you even told him?” she asked bluntly.

  “That I love him? Of course I have.”

  “And,” Lily prodded.

  “He said he cared about me.”

  “That bastard,” Lily spat, obviously agreeing that the man deserved to be hung for uttering such a stupid thing. She squealed out of the hospital parking lot, cutting off another driver and, blithely ignoring his shouted curse, switched lanes and put her foot down. “I have an idea,” she finally said. “Why don’t we go by your house so I can pack a bag for you? Sarah wants to see you and the peace and solitude of the ranch would definitely do you some good.”

  “She has two, very loud kids,” Mira reminded her.

  “And they’ll provide a great distraction from all that solitude if you need it.”

  “All right,” Mira relented, beginning to like the idea. It had been much too long since she had seen her friend. Plus it would give James time to make a decision. If it didn’t go the way she wanted, well, she would deal with that too. “I’ll just leave James a note. He’ll have to know where to find me when he’s ready to crawl,” she added.

  “That’s the spirit,” Lily said, “but I’ll write the note and,” she crossed her heart at Mira’s suspicious look. “I’ll put it somewhere he’ll be sure to find it. I’m doing this because I love you and I know you don’t want to go in the house.”

  **********************************************************

  “I’m not going to a dam
n ball,” James said uncomfortably as Winston adjusted his black tie. “I don’t see why I have to dress up like this just to go over and see her.”

  “Ah, but it’s no every day you ask a lassie to marry you,” Pat chimed in from his seat in front of the fire place.

  Since Mira’s attack and subsequent hospitalization, a fragile truce had sprung up between James and his father. They had spent hours together in the cold waiting room, anxious for any word on her condition. The honest grief and worry that had been apparent on Patrick Kelly’s face had been enough to remove some of the blinders that James had worn for years, but he was still trying to adjust to the new situation.

  Winston, however, was having no problems. The two older men had become quick friends, discussing who knows what into the small hours of the night while going through James’ stock of fine whiskey. Currently, he saw with some chagrin, they were talking about him. He yanked at his tie, pulling it off, and tossed it on a nearby table. The thought of proposing marriage was already making him sweat. He didn’t need a damn noose around his neck choking him as well.

  “It’s my life,” he said defensively when the men glared at him. “And I’ll do this the way I want to.”

  “At least take the jacket,” they said in unison. He ignored them both and walked out of the library.

  His palms continued to sweat as he climbed in the car and pulled onto the road. It was ridiculous to feel this queasy, he told himself. He was 36 years old and it was about time he settled down and got married. It wasn’t exactly the settling down part that he really objected to. He was done with the transience of the dating scene and he liked the idea of Mira living in his house. It was the institution and all that it represented that made him nervous.

  It meant fully opening up and sharing himself with someone else, both the good and the bad, and putting his happiness in the hands of someone else. He could intimidate a room full of employees, organize and oversee complicated projects, make risky decision without blinking an eye, and broker billion dollar deals without a sweat, but this terrified him. He knew, though, that it was what Mira wanted — a total commitment. And, despite his own misgivings, it was what she deserved. He would just have to get used to it and, he consoled himself as his stomach churned, they could go for a long engagement.

  He was so agitated that he didn’t notice the abandoned look of the house or the lack of a car in the driveway. It was only when the doorbell went unanswered that he started to worry. He had called the hospital early this morning and they said her friend Lily had brought her home. He had allowed plenty of time for them to get here. A little too much, his inner mind taunted, because he had needed to gather his courage. Either way, Mira wasn’t in any shape to go out so she should have been there.

  With his nervousness slowly being replaced by concern, he pulled out the key Mira had given him and opened the door. The first thing he saw was the picture. It was finished, with both knight and dragon filled in to the last detail, and so lifelike the characters almost seemed to jump off the paper. It sat framed in simple wood, leaning against the sofa. Propped in front of it was a letter. He walked forward and picked it up. The note said simply that Mira needed a break from things and had gone away to figure out what she wanted to do. The picture, apparently, was to be his.

  His heart plummeted. Like a drowning man, he grasped onto the idea that she had not gone willingly. Somehow her friend, Lily, must have coerced or forced her. He snatched up the picture and ran out the door. Ten minutes later he had his answer. She had not been pressured or intimidate. She had left of her own volition. In fact, she had even stopped and asked the neighbors to keep an eye on the place until another renter was found.

  If she wanted time, he thought angrily, she could damn well have it. With a jerky motion he opened his car door and set the picture in the back seat before climbing in. Tires squealed as he revved the engine and peeled away.

  Chapter 35

  James sat at his desk and silently contemplated the latest investigative report that lay in front of him. Since Mira had left almost two months ago there had been no trace of her. At first he had wallowed in his anger, using it to push him and get him through the series of empty days and nights. When his rage had finally lessened he realized that he had alienated his faithful butler, disgusted his father, and made silent phantoms of his employees.

  He had been like a ghost himself for almost a week, drifting quietly through his own life as the hurt he had suppressed overwhelmed him. His father had been the one to snap, pushing him to face his own responsibility, telling him to take control and go after her. Galvanized, he had tried, but come up against a wall. There was no sign of her and short of physically threatening Lily, which Devon would object to, he had not been able to get her to talk. It was time, he decided, to call in a favor. Devon knew some people. If the FBI couldn’t find her, no one could. He picked up the phone.

  “Mr. Kelly?”

  James looked up to see Mrs. Beecham standing in his doorway. Her expression was downcast, steeped in sympathy. “What is it?” he asked brusquely, annoyed by the interruption.

  She walked forward and stretched her arm out, passing him an envelope. “This came for you.”

  **********************************************************

  “Will you please stop your pacing, Mira? It’s making me feel dizzy just watching you.”

  “Well then you shouldn’t watch me.” Mira briefly stopped her circuitous route around the large, dark paneled living room and looked at Sarah. Her friend certainly didn’t look faint. She looked complacent and comfortable as she lounged in the deep brown armchair with her feet on a matching footstool.

  Despite the fact that she was heavily pregnant and her once petite feet were swollen to twice their size, she looked happy and glowing and, despite her advanced pregnancy, beautiful with her soulful brown eyes, lush body and long, silky black hair. That’s what it was like, she thought despondently, when you were sure of your partner’s love and trust.

  Mira blew out a breath and flopped down in the matching armchair, feeling guilty and lowered to be experiencing such jealousy toward one of her best friends, especially when there was no one more deserving of such love and devotion than Sarah. It was difficult to control though when, with each passing day, she grew less certain that James would ever return her feelings. It had been nearly two months and she hadn’t heard anything from him, not even a letter.

  “This isn’t working Sarah,” she said forlornly.

  “How is it not working?” her friend replied. “Your nightmares seem to be gone and you’ve started drawing again. And you don’t even have to go back to work at EcoSpace unless you want to since you have a buyer for some of your pieces and a job offer that would allow you to draw for a living.”

  “I do draw for a living. Considering that I’m an architectural designer I spend a lot of time drawing things.”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Sarah huffed. “And I can’t understand why you haven’t jumped at the chance and already sent in your resignation.”

  “I did,” Mira said softly, “but,” she continued before Sarah could interrupt. “I won’t be taking the offer. Drawing fantasy pictures for video games is still just a job. I wouldn’t really have any control over what I create.”

  “And yet you still felt the need to quit your job? You were so exited about working for a company on the leading edge of sustainable, eco-friendly building. Will it really be so difficult to continue?”

  Mira sank lower in her chair and leaned her head back. “I can’t do it. It would be too painful to see him every day and know that I can never really have him.”

  “Oh sweetie I’m so sorry.” True to her gentle nature, Sarah pushed herself up and slowly started toward Mira. Before she had even crossed half the space her husband, Pete, barreled into the room and scooped her up. Even with her increased girth, she looked tiny and delicate in the big man’s muscled arms.

  Despite the fact that he
was a successful, educated business man, who specialized in raising expensive thoroughbred horses, Pete still looked like a lumberjack or a mountain man, complete with a head of bright red hair and a full beard. You could tell, however, by the way that he touched and looked at his wife that he believed he was the luckiest man alive.

  After asking Mira to move to the sofa and gently depositing Sarah next to her, he turned around and quietly left the room, leaving them to talk in privacy.

  When they were alone, Sarah tried to reach over and pull her into a comforting hug, but her stomach got in the way. Instead, she settled for keeping an arm around Mira’s shoulders and leaning into her side. “Are you sure there’s no chance?” she asked quietly.

  “It’s been too long. If he had really felt anything for me he would have done something before now. There hasn’t even been a phone call.”

  They leaned into each other, whispering confidences now like the schoolgirls they had once been together.

  “What do you plan to do now?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m not sure exactly,” she murmured. “Since I have some money now, I thought that I’d take a little break. Maybe go to Ireland and explore my roots and I haven’t done a lot of it, but I think I’d really enjoy painting. Who knows, I might even make some money at it. It’s time that I moved on with my life.”

  “I’d quite like to say that I know someone rich and famous,” Sarah interjected cheerfully, obviously trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I could shove it in the faces of all the rich snobbish women whose husbands hang around the racing world.”

  “Are you having a problem,” Mira asked in concern, pulled from her own troubles by the tone of her friend’s comment. If someone was messing with Sarah, she vowed, they would have to deal with her.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Pete knocked softly on the door and poked his head in. “There’s someone here to see you,” he told Mira.

  Her heart gave a funny little lurch as she stood up and walked out of the living room. It couldn’t be James, she cautioned herself. If he had planned on seeing her he would have come weeks ago. It was more likely to be Lily or even the gentleman who had bought her drawings.