“Is she alive?”
“Of course.” Greg was indignant. “I’m not going to cut this short.” He paused. “No pun intended.”
“Greg, look. I know how frustrating it is to have feelings for a woman who doesn’t return them…”
“Spare me, Captain. I already had my heart-to-heart bonding session with Foreman, and he empathized nicely. I’m good. Thanks anyway.”
“Greg, you really want both of you to end up dead? Why not just give up now? No need to take it all the way, man.”
“But there is a need.” Greg gazed down at Liv, brushed her hair off her beautiful face. “If I can’t have her, nobody can. And I know if I let her go, she’ll go straight back to Dallas. I can’t accept that, you understand? I can’t live knowing that she’s fucking him. It’s me, or it’s nobody.”
“Greg...”
“Nice talking to you, Captain. I’m going now.” He paused. “And don’t bother calling back, OK? I won’t answer next time – I’m turning off my phone now.”
**
Dean pulled up a minute later, pale and worried. He saw Dallas strapping a SWAT vest across his broad chest and he shut his eyes for a few seconds.
Fuck. He’s really going to do this.
He reached in to the back seat and grabbed the long black bag. He stepped in to the fray of cops and SWAT and Dallas’ own people, and he felt a hand on his arm. He turned, saw that Chris and Jim were right behind him and the three men approached Dallas slowly. His blue eyes were carefully blank, and they recognized that look: they hadn’t seen it since Afghanistan, and they exchanged concerned glances.
Dallas reached for his rifle, unzipped the bag, pulled out his M24. Finn hovered nearby.
“Dallas, you sure about this? Why not use mine? If you haven’t used yours in three years, it’s not going to be in good enough condition…”
Dallas shook his head. “I may not kill people with it anymore, but I still fire it at the range and I break it down and clean it nightly.” He stared at their shocked faces. “Old habits die hard, I guess. Or maybe I always knew that I’d have to do this again one day. Kept it ready, just in case.”
“Dallas,” Chris said softly. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I know you never wanted to do this, ever again. I’m sorry, man.”
Dallas shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice in this case, Chris. I’m Olivia’s only chance.” He glanced back at the video feed and turned to Mark and Griff. “Set that monitor up on that roof over there. Three minutes.”
Everyone nodded, and got moving. Dallas stared at Olivia. She was flat on her back on the floor, Greg holding her down. He saw red on the front of her body, saw the shine of tears on her cheeks, and he fought to not feel anything at the sight.
You remember how to do this, don’t you? No emotions, no feelings about any of it. She’s not even there and he’s just a target, as human as a paper target on the range. Just pick your spot and hit it. It’s that simple, remember?
He looked at his friends now, saw their worry for him. They’d seen him in those last days before he’d quit once and for all, when Dallas was finding it harder and harder to come back to himself after a job. He’d had some dark hours when he really thought that the best, most human part of himself was gone forever, lost in his own questionable ability to stop feeling anything at all, almost at will.
That’s not going to happen this time. After this is over, I’ll still be able to feel. I’ll feel for Olivia, no matter if she’s alive or dead. I’ll either hurt like hell until the day I die for losing her, or I’ll love her until the day I draw my last breath.
He smiled at them. “It’s going to be OK, guys. I’ll come back. I promise.”
They looked relieved and nodded.
“Where do you want us, Dallas?” Jim said.
“Right behind me,” he told them. “I want you there for whatever happens after I pull the trigger. No matter what it is.”
“You got it,” Dean said. “We’re there.”
**
Olivia opened her eyes, stared up at Greg. He smiled down at her gently.
“You’re awake,” he said. “I’m so glad.”
“Greg.” Her voice was hoarse.
A look of concern flashed across his face. “You thirsty?”
She tried to get her head around the fact that he was worried about her needing something to drink, even as her blood ran down her sides and pooled on the floor under her. But if he was showing that kind of concern, maybe she could use it.
“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice weak on purpose.
“OK, baby,” he said. “How about we get you up so you can have some bottled water?”
She nodded. “Please.”
He moved off her body, lifted her by her shoulders, set her on shaky feet. She had no choice but to grip his forearms for balance and support, and a look of joy appeared on his face. It killed her to touch him, to be close to him, but she saw the effect her need had on him.
This is what he’s wanted all along… for you to need him. Goddammit, Liv. Give him what he wants. It may get you out of here.
Olivia ‘stumbled’ and fell forward on to his chest with a sigh. He pulled her in to his arms and held her close. She shuddered as he stroked her hair, but she forced herself to stand still in his embrace.
“I’m dizzy,” she said. “Hold me, Greg. I need your help…”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Liv,” he murmured, his mouth wet and hot against her ear. “Just to help you, to be there for you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I was so blind.”
He nodded in an understanding way. “Well. You are just a stupid slut who gets your photo taken in your underwear.” He stroked her back. “I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from you, really.”
She shut her eyes. “Yes.”
He ran the knife over her neck now, light and delicate as a lover’s touch. “Look at me, Liv.”
She forced her eyes open; forced herself to meet his own.
“You had the whole world falling at your feet, telling you how perfect and gorgeous you were. I lost my mind over you… all because you were so fucking stunning.” His blue eyes ran over her face, drinking her in. “You just – you enchanted me.”
“I’m sorry, Greg,” she said and she found that she actually meant it. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.” The blade was on her cheek now. “Because of this face, I’ve lost everything I ever worked for.” He pressed down and she gasped. “This. Fucking. Face.”
She screamed as he held her chin in his huge hand and pressed harder.
**
Dallas was on his stomach, his rifle set up and his finger on the trigger, his friends behind him. They were all watching the monitor, the guys in horror, Dallas coolly, reassessing the angle of the curve. Olivia and Greg were standing now, and that actually helped things immeasurably. He ignored the fact that Greg was cutting Olivia’s left cheek; ignored her clear distress. Then he realized that he couldn’t just pretend that she wasn’t there.
He knew this may well be the last time he saw Olivia alive, and he wanted to take one final look, to see how she was in what were possibly her final few seconds. No turning away from her terror, no denying the pain she was in, no hiding from just how badly he’d failed her. If he was going to hate himself for the rest of his fucking life, Dallas had to know for what exactly he was to blame.
I am so sorry, sweetheart. I fucked this up so bad.
On the monitor, Dallas looked at her, devoured her. Greg had her turned to face the window now and he was standing behind her, hissing in to her ear, the knife held to her throat. Dallas lingered on her large brown eyes, saw how they were wide with mute fear and full of helpless tears. He zeroed in on the slash on her perfect cheekbone, saw the b
lood running down her face, thick and bright red. Her beautiful mouth was open as she fought to catch her breath, her lips parted and tight.
Then Dallas remembered her eyes when they looked up at him from his bed just hours before, warm and loving. He thought about touching her cheek, her skin soft under his fingertips. And he remembered her sweet mouth on his own, warm and open, panting his name as Olivia came with him buried deep inside her body.
I love you, Olivia. I love you, baby.
Now Dallas looked through the rifle scope and changed his focus. His whole world became a spot in the middle of Greg’s forehead, right now visible only in Dallas’ mind’s eye. That tiny space was all he saw, nothing and nobody else existed, not anywhere. He stared at that small patch of skin – no more than one-half of a square inch – and imagined his bullet going in right there. He took a deep breath, listened to the rhythm of his own slow, steady heartbeat. Breathed out between beats. And took the shot.
**
For the rest of her life, Olivia would never clearly remember what happened in the few seconds after she heard the shot. It was a mixture of sounds and sensations, all jumbled together, all terrifying.
Glass breaking. Something brushing past her temple, soft and quick as a breath. Then a sound like a watermelon bursting, and something hot and wet spraying across her hair and the back of her neck. Greg letting go of her and falling without a sound, just free-falling backwards and down to the ground, his eyes wide open, already dead. And Olivia took several shaky steps forward and stood there, staring out the shattered window at Dallas on a roof, lowering a rifle. Their eyes met and he was all she saw.
Suddenly, the door behind her was kicked open and she turned with a scream. She fell to her knees, all strength gone, and curled herself in to a ball on the floor. Her hands were in her hair, her elbows tight against her head, her face tucked down in her chest. Someone touched her shoulder, and she flinched and moved away.
“No!” Olivia cried. “No, no, no…”
“Olivia.” She didn’t recognize the voice. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, not ready to come out and face what had just happened.
“Olivia, we need to take a look at you, OK?” Hands tried to pry her elbows away from her head and she screamed again. “Olivia, please…”
“Hey, don’t touch her. Back the fuck off.”
The hands let go and Olivia let out a shaky breath of relief. Someone sat down next to her.
“Olivia? Sweetheart, it’s Sully. I’m not going to touch you, OK? Nobody is.”
She nodded.
“Dallas is coming, Liv,” he said softly. “He’ll be here any second. Just hang in there, OK?”
Olivia closed her eyes, tried to remember to keep breathing. All she had to do was hold on until Dallas got to her, then she could fall apart completely. He’d gather up the pieces, put her back together.
Then suddenly he was there, down on the floor with her, pulling her in to those strong arms, wrapping her in a blanket. Even with her eyes still shut tight, she knew it was him; she curled up on his lap, buried her face in his chest. He was warm and huge and so achingly familiar against her own body, and all she wanted to do was stay right where she was forever. His scent hit her then – male and musky, fresh lime and soap – and that’s when she really knew that it was all over.
“Olivia,” he murmured. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.”
“Don’t let go,” she whispered. “Don’t let me go.”
“No way, baby.” His arms tightened. “Never.”
The tears started now, hot and fast. He both felt and heard her crying, and his hand was on the back of her head, pressing her in to his warmth and strength, offering comfort and privacy. Olivia cried for a long time, gasping and shaking, and then suddenly, she was quiet and unmoving.
Dallas held her away from him, saw that she was out cold. That was when he nodded at the medical team to take her. They lifted her out of his arms and he looked down at his clothes; his shirt was covered in her blood.
This is all your fault. You failed her. Completely. And when she figures that out? You’re never going to see her again.
Chapter Eleven
Dean, Jim and Chris were standing by the elevator when the women stepped off. Kat and Jenny were both supporting Emma, who seemed about ready to collapse. Dean jumped forward, took Emma in his arms.
“You OK?” he said.
She shook her head, pale and shaken. “Not yet. Where is she?”
“They’re stitching her up right now,” Chris said, keeping his voice low, trying to keep them calm. “The doctor said she’d be out in ten minutes with an update.”
The women nodded and looked around.
“Where’s Dallas?” Kat said.
The men looked troubled.
“In the waiting room,” Chris said. “He’s – he’s not doing so well.”
“He blames himself?” Jenny asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “Come on, this way.”
They all stood in the hallway, staring in to the waiting room at Dallas. He was slumped over in a chair, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His huge body looked diminished, somehow, and he was the very picture of despair and helplessness.
Jenny would never know what made her do it; all she knew was that she couldn’t stand to see this good man so hurting and broken. She walked over to Dallas, sat in the chair right next to his, and took his large hand in her small one.
The others exchanged stunned glances. Dallas stared up in shock, unable to believe that she was actually using touch to reach him, to comfort him.
“She’s going to be OK, Dallas,” Jenny said to him simply. “You both are.”
He blinked. And then, because it was Jenny telling him this – and she knew more about getting through and starting again than anyone he’d ever known – he believed her.
The doctor came in to the room now, and Dallas jumped to his feet, still holding Jenny’s hand.
“How is she?” he asked.
Dr. Vickers looked around at the group. She was a shy, small woman, and she was suddenly surrounded by four extremely large men and three distraught-looking women. She cleared her throat.
“Some of the cuts on her face and torso were very deep,” she said. “Most of them required stitches. Even with plastic surgery, Ms. Jameson is going to be… permanently scarred, I’m afraid.”
The room was totally silent.
“Badly?” Emma said.
“I’m sorry, but yes. There’s one cut on her upper body that’s especially bad.” She hesitated. “It runs the whole length, from breastbone to stomach.”
Kat closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. Jim saw her, and reached out to catch her before she fell.
“Kat!” he said.
She held on to his upper arms, tried to catch her breath. Jim gently led her over to a chair and sat her down. He knelt in front of her and touched her leg.
“Kat?”
“Yeah. I’m OK.” Her eyes opened and Jim saw tears. “I just – it was a shock.”
“I know,” Dr. Vickers said. “I’m sorry.”
“Can we see her?” Emma asked.
“Actually, she’s asking for Dallas. Is that one of you?”
Dallas nodded. “That’s me.”
“OK, you can see her now, then I want to move her to a private room upstairs. Once she’s up there, the rest of you can see her. No more than two visitors at a time, though. Alright?”
“Thank you,” Dean said.
Jenny gave his hand one final squeeze, then Dallas followed the doctor out in to the hallway. She led him to a closed door and stopped.
“In here.” She tried to smile at him, to set him a bit at ease. “Ms. Jameson is awake but she’s heavily sedated, so she may not make a lot of sense right now… she
may well pass out in a few moments.”
He nodded his thanks, and went in. He froze when he saw Olivia lying on the bed, pale and small, her beautiful face bandaged on the left side. He came closer, and she turned her head, opened those amazing eyes.
“Dallas,” she said weakly.
“Baby.” His voice broke as he sat on the very edge of the bed and he took her hand. He found he couldn’t actually say one more word.
“Will you leave me?”
His brow furrowed. “No, baby. I’m staying right here.”
“I mean… will you leave me.” Her words were slow and slurred. “Now that I’m ugly.”
“Oh, my God, Olivia.” He knew what she was talking about now. “No way, sweetheart. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in the whole of my life.”
She touched the bandage on her face; touched her bandaged chest. “Not anymore.”
“Yes. Still.” His voice was firm. “Always and forever.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Really?”
“Really.” He leaned down and kissed her trembling lips. “I’m not going anywhere, Olivia, and that is a promise.”
“You saved my life, Dallas.” Her eyelids drooped and with a huge effort, she forced them open again. “You promised to take care of me…and you did.” She fell silent as the drugs took firm hold, and she drifted off the sleep.
Dallas stared down at her, her words like a fucking kick to the gut.
I took care of you? Oh, baby, you’re not thinking straight… I fucked this up totally. You'll see that soon enough and then you’ll hate me. And I’ll totally deserve it.
Until that moment of realization, though, he’d stay with her. His time with Olivia was on a clock ticking down now, and he closed his eyes and tried to accept that thought. He knew that two things were clear. First, when she figured out that this was all on him, he’d dive in to a vat of whiskey and not resurface for a week. Second, he had many, many years of self-loathing to look forward to.
Chapter Twelve
Eight days later
Kat stood in the middle of her living room, hands on her hips, staring at Olivia in complete disbelief. She was exasperated and angry, and all those things she’d been longing to say to Liv for the past week were bubbling away just below the surface. She’d refrained from saying any of them in deference to Liv’s fragility, but she was doing better now, and Kat felt the time for a ‘come-to-Jesus’ talk had finally arrived.
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