by J. R. Ward
In the tense moment before she spoke, she noticed for no good reason that the night sky was spectacular, glowing clouds streaking across the heavens, forming a shifting patchwork over the stars and the bright moon.
“I need to talk to you,” she said gruffly. “Alone.”
Matthias turned to Jim and spoke quietly; then the other man stepped away. The whole time, Matthias was looking at her face as if he’d never expected to see her again, his eyes roaming, drinking her in.
Mels fought the urge to do the same. God, she still felt a pull toward him and that was not just nuts; it was suicidal.
Crossing her arms over her breasts, she kicked up her chin. “Guess you avoided the cops—and intend to keep doing so.”
“I told you I was leaving.” His voice was rough. “What are you doing here?”
“I read through those files. Didn’t you think I’d have some questions?”
“None you’d ask of me.”
“Who better to go to than the primary source.”
As he met her eyes, his stare was steady and focused, like he was a man with nothing to hide. “It’s self-explanatory—”
“It was your baby, wasn’t it.” She nodded in Heron’s direction. “You ran them all—you recruited them, told them what to do, kept control of the entire organization.”
“So you think I should go to jail.”
“Well, yeah. Although if what I saw is true, you did the world a service.” She stalled out briefly. “To be honest…I’m stunned that you gave it all to me.”
“I meant what I said.” He dropped his voice. “I need you to believe that what I had with you was the truth—I can’t…I can’t live with the idea that you think I lied about that. And as for that operative at the Marriott—he was sent to kill, and it was a case of either we took him out or he completed his mission. We had no choice.”
“You and Jim Heron?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take the body?”
“No, we did not—but reclamation of remains is standard operating procedure for XOps. Someone else took care of that.”
“XOps is the name, huh.”
“It has no name, but that’s what we call it.”
“Some of the men were marked with an orange strike—what does that mean?” She pointed to Jim. “Like he was.”
“In those cases, there has been some intel suggesting a mortal event, but the body has not been claimed or otherwise visually confirmed.”
“Jim is certainly alive and well.”
“He is.”
A stretch of silence followed, and Mels thought back to being against the man’s body, the two of them moving together under the sheets—so close, heart-to-heart, until the whole world didn’t exist, the power and combustion between them sweeping everything away.
“What can I say to help you with this,” he whispered. “What can I do.”
“Tell me where you’re going.”
“I can’t.”
“Or you’d have to kill me, isn’t that the line.”
“Never. Not you.”
Cue another stall-out, and in the tense quiet, she retraced the steps she’d taken to come out here: As soon as she’d finished looking at all the files on that flashdrive, the urge to confront him had taken hold. A quick dial into her contacts at the CPD had indicated he hadn’t been arrested and there were no leads on his whereabouts. In the end, she’d decided to drive out here, because Jim Heron was the only contact she had.
And now here she was, speechless.
She wanted to yell at Matthias, as if his past had been lived solely to screw her.
She wanted to rail against the whole course of their…God, it wasn’t even a relationship, was it. More like a collision that had involved so much more than just her car.
She wanted to throw her arms around him…because, looking in his face, she sensed that it could be true…the things he’d given her on the SanDisk—as well as the things they’d been to each other. So much in this situation was bizarre, but the feelings…could they have been real?
“What now,” she demanded hoarsely, mostly to herself.
“As in?”
“I have a feeling, even if I called the cops again right now, that you’d get away.”
He inclined his head. “I would.”
“So what are you going to do for the rest of your life? Run?”
“Evade death. Until it finds me and sends me to Hell. And both are going to happen.”
A chill went up her spine, tingling in the nape of her neck, making her hyper-aware of everything from the pine scent in the air to the coolness of the night to those lazy, traveling clouds overhead.
Matthias seemed sad to the point of agony. “Mels, I need you to know that I didn’t have a clue what to do. The amnesia was real, and when things started coming to me, I kept them from you because…that expression on your face in that hotel room this morning was something I never wanted to see—and I knew it was coming. I knew it was inevitable. The thing was, there was no good news in any of my memories—no goodness, either. But with you, I was different.” He dragged a hand through his hair and touched beside his eye, running his fingertips around the faded scars. “This I can’t explain. I just can’t—but it wasn’t makeup and contacts. And that is the God’s honest. The same’s true about the impotence. I didn’t lie about that.”
Shit. He struck her as so open, everything about him seemingly bared to her.
Except, wasn’t that what good liars did? They made themselves appear to be speaking the gospel—and they had a way of figuring out what would work with whoever was in front of them, what approach, what combination of affect and vocabulary would be successful.
Good liars were so much more than fib makers. They were selfish seducers with agendas.
“I can’t believe you,” she said roughly.
“And I don’t blame you. It is, however, the truth. My reckoning is coming for me—one way or the other the past is going to catch up with me, and I’m at peace with that. I was lucky—I got sent back to set things right, to give you what I did so you can expose the whole organization. That’s the only way I can make amends, and it’s also going to get you what you want—the story that can make an entire career. In the end, we’ll both have what we deserve.”
Funny, but her work had never seemed less important.
“You know what is still bothering me?” she said numbly. “I’ve never understood why I fell so hard for you—that’s bothered me all along. I just can’t find the reasoning, I mean, why a man I didn’t know, who didn’t even know himself? But you pursued me, didn’t you—and you get what you want. So be honest with me now, why did you do it? Why…me.”
“For the simplest reason there is.”
“And that is?”
He was quiet for so long, she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. Except then he said in a cracked voice, “I fell in love with you. I am a monster—it’s true. But I opened my eyes in that hospital and the second I saw you…everything changed. I went after you…because I am in love.”
Mels exhaled and closed her eyes, the pain in her chest taking her breath away. “Oh…God—”
“No!”
Her lids flew open as Matthias hollered, and then everything went into slow motion.
With a powerful shove from him, she went flying, her body cast aside as something whistled by her ear and pinged off the side of the garage.
A bullet.
Mels hit the pea gravel and slid along the drive. Scrambling to stop her momentum, she clawed at the loose ground cover as she rolled onto her back.
And saw everything.
Just as the moon broke free of the clouds, and silvery white light rained down on the night landscape, Matthias heaved his whole body up into the air, the trajectory putting him directly in front of Jim Heron.
Mels shouted out, but it was too late.
The illumination from the heavens spotlit him as he put his chest in the way of the second shot…that had cle
arly been meant for the other man.
She would never forget Matthias’s face.
As he was mortally struck, his eyes were not trained on the one who was firing or the one he was saving. They were looking to the light from above, and he was…at peace.
As if his final act put him at ease all the way to his soul.
Mels reached out, as if she could stop him, or catch him, or rewind time—but the end had come for him, and, God, it seemed like he had expected it.
Perhaps even welcomed it.
She screamed, the shrill sound peeling out of her throat. “Matthias…!”
His body landed in a heap, and the fact that he didn’t try to brace himself against the impact was testament to how badly he was struck.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she tried to crawl over to him—
But she was held in place by invisible hands.
Chapter Fifty-three
Ultimately, it had been the moonlight that had shown the way.
As Matthias had stood and talked with Mels, he had kept his eyes steadily on her, because it was crucial that she believe him, and he knew he wasn’t getting another chance. Indeed, he had never spoken more truthful words, in spite of the fact that some of them sounded crazy, and in so many ways, his life would be complete only if by some miracle she could believe what he was saying.
And then he had had the chance to tell her he loved her. To her face.
It was more than he had hoped for or deserved.
Except as he did, the moon peeked through the clouds, throwing shadows onto the ground, shadows of trees, branches, cars…people.
Including the operative in black who had crept up to the edge of the forest.
And was lifting his gun and leveling it across the driveway.
Matthias’s first move was to get Mels out of the line of fire, and as she hit the fine gravel, he heard the first shot strike the garage. The second discharge was going to be deadly—but not to her.
Jim was standing unprotected by the rental car, as obvious a target as a goddamn dartboard.
Matthias reacted in an instant, throwing himself in the way of the second shot, becoming a human shield to protect the other man. Sailing through the air, he somehow timed the jump and the trajectory perfectly.
As he felt the bullet break into his sternum and strike his heart, he thought, Well…here it was.
His final moment on earth.
And it felt right, so right. He had done such ugliness, such evil, over the course of decades, but at least he was ending on a high note, a right note—giving Jim enough time to out his gun and pick off the assassin.
Which he would do. Heron was one of the best. Always had been.
He was going to take care of business, him and that deadly roommate.
And Mels had heard the truth, even if she couldn’t believe it.
In the brief, rushing weightlessness as Matthias returned to earth, his eyes went to the sky above. He was going back into the pit of Hell, so he figured he might as well enjoy the view of Heaven one last time—
God, that moon, that beautiful, shining moon with its pure white light that bathed all parts of this drama—
The gravel drive jumped up and grabbed him. As he landed, his vision grew preternaturally clear so that he saw what he had known would happen: Jim palming his forty, waiting one breath, then two…and when the shooter popped his head out to check the carnage, Heron pulled the trigger and picked the other man off, nailing him in the cranium, blowing him back flat.
It was a crack shot that could only have been made by an expert.
And it meant that Mels was safe.
Lying flat on his back on the ground, Matthias turned his head to his woman. She was fighting against some kind of hold on her, her arms stretched out as if she were trying to reach him.
The second Jim yelled, “Clear!” she broke free of whatever had been keeping her stuck and scrambled over.
Matthias felt her take his hand, and as he looked up into her face, she was more beautiful than the moon.
He smiled at her, and then saw that she was crying. “No,” he groaned. “No, you’re fine—”
“Get an ambulance,” she shouted.
It was too late, but he appreciated the thought.
Funny, shouldn’t he feel pain? He was dying; he knew that by the way his breathing was getting difficult. But there was no agony, not even discomfort. Instead, he felt giddy, his brain buzzing.
On the verge of death, he was totally alive.
He squeezed her hand. “I love you….”
“Don’t even think about it,” she barked.
“It’s how…I feel….”
“No, the dying thing. You are not dying on me.” She jerked her head up. “Call nine-one-one!”
“Mels—Mels, look at me.” When she did, he smiled in spite of the knowledge of where he was going to end up. “Just—let me see you….You’re so beautiful….”
“Damn you, Matthias—”
“Yes, I am.” Damned, that was. “Listen to me—no, just listen. I want you to wear your seat belt…wear it…promise me—”
“Screw you, stay with me and make me.”
“Wear…it….”
“Don’t leave me,” she moaned. “Not now, not when…I’m so confused…”
“Wear it.”
Turned out those were his two last words, and she was the final thing he saw: An abrupt suffocation took over, his cells starving for what they weren’t going to get, the chaos jamming his brain, stealing from him the last moments he had with her.
And then it was done.
Vision gone, body still, senses of taste and smell finished.
He still had his hearing, though.
Mels’s voice wrapped around him. “Stay with me….”
God, he wanted to; he truly did.
That was not, however, going to be his destiny.
* * *
As the operative dropped to the forest floor like a side of beef, Jim lowered his gun, ready to kick his own ass. He and Adrian had been so wrapped up in the drama in front of them, neither one had paid any attention to the assassin creeping in through the forest.
Then again, if they had intervened…Shit, who could have ever guessed Matthias would take a bullet for someone?
“Adrian, get out there,” Jim hissed.
Ad nodded and disappeared. Seconds later, the angel sounded an all-clear from the periphery.
“Call nine-one-one!” Mels said from where she was crouched, holding Matthias’s hand.
This was the real crossroads, Jim thought. And Matthias had passed.
They had won—
Mels jerked up and glared at him. “We need an ambulance—”
From up above, a shaft of light pierced the sky, shining a hundred times brighter than the moon’s illumination: It was Matthias’s reclamation, the rays pouring down from the heavens like a waterfall, eclipsing his body where it lay.
For a moment, Jim just watched the process, the shimmering echo of Matthias’s body pulled up in the centrifuge, drawn from the flesh, headed for the Manse of Souls.
He had done it.
The motherfucker had done it.
That moment when Matthias had chosen someone else’s life over his own, when he had thrown himself into the path of that bullet—even though Jim wouldn’t have been affected—was the crossroads and the free will…and the victory.
“He’s dying!” The sound of Mels’s voice ripped him back into focus. “He’s—”
“Dead,” Jim said grimly, lifting his hand in goodbye to his old…friend, he supposed.
“No, he is not!”
Refocusing, Jim went over and got down on his haunches. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”
The woman snapped out a hand and grabbed Jim’s shirt, her face that of a tiger, teeth bared, eyes gleaming. “He is not dead.”
She dropped her hold and went for her own phone—
Jim snagged the thing out of her hands. “He’s
gone—I’m so sorry, but he’s not with us anymore. And you need to get out of here—”
“What the hell are you talking about! Give me my goddamn phone!”
“Mels—”
She launched herself at him, and he let her go, let her get her energy and anger out as she struck him with her fists. Eventually, he stilled her by turning her around and holding her back against him, just so she didn’t rip one of his eyes out.
When she finally quieted, she was breathing hard, and sobbing.
“He’s gone,” Jim said roughly. “And I’m really sorry. I’m so damned sorry for you. But you’ve got to listen to me. You have to leave—you do not want to be a part of this. He told me what he gave you—so I know you get it when I say it’s not safe for you to be involved in what’s going to happen next. Go home and get cracking on the information—that’s how you’ll be safe. As soon as you blow the cover and the story’s out in the open, the organization will crumble. But until then, it’s business as usual, and that means you’re exposed. Go home. Do your work—and do it fast.”
The woman sagged against his forearms and just hung there, loose in his hold, her head tilted in the direction of Matthias’s body.
“You know I’m right,” Jim said gently. “And I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”
Abruptly, Adrian stepped out from the tree line. “You’ll never believe who I just ran into. Nigel.”
Jim frowned. “I didn’t sense him.”
“Neither did I. But he was here.”
To keep Devina away? he wondered. Or maybe that was the real reason he and Adrian hadn’t sensed the assassin’s approach?
“Is he gone?”
“Yup. Didn’t say anything. Just gave me a wave and disappeared.”
Okay, the why’s and wherefore’s of his boss were not what was important right now. “Ad, I want you to drive her home.”
“Roger that.”
“Mels?” Jim turned her around. “You have to go. It’s not safe for you. Go and do what you can.”
“He can’t be gone….”
“He is. You know he is. Trust me, he’ll be treated good. Now go on…let Adrian take you home so you’re safe. I can’t have both of you dying on me.”
Mels allowed Jim to lead her over to the car she’d arrived in, and after he opened the passenger-side door, he settled her in the seat. Given her docile act, it was pretty damn clear that shock had taken over—so they had to move quick, before she snapped out of it and put up another fight.