by Dee Davis
"Yeah, right. And everyone will live happily ever after." Jen laughed, the sound devoid of humor.
"Bitch." Nico's eyes flashed and he struck her in the jaw with the gun. Connor raised his Beretta, but he held his fire. He was still too far away for an accurate shot, the chance of hitting Jen making the risk too great. "Who killed Sammy?"
Connor held his breath and counted to three, maneuvering among the crates until he was perpendicular to the two of them. He sighted them with his gun, waiting for the right moment, but almost as if he knew he was being watched, Nico shifted positions, again putting Jen between them.
"I did." Jen spat out, her voice muffled. "What? You think a girl can't shoot a gun?"
Part of Connor swelled with pride—Jen was definitely holding her own—but the rest of him was consumed by horror. What the hell had he gotten her into?
"I ought to shoot you right now," Nico snarled, lowering the muzzle of his pistol.
"But you won't," Jen said. "You can't take that chance. What if there's someone else out there who knows what's going on? Someone who can bring you down, even with Andy and me dead."
Nico's eyes narrowed, but he lowered his gun. Just a little, but enough for Connor to realize that Jen's words had hit home. She was playing the guy like a master. But it wouldn't last forever. Connor finally recognized what it was that had been bothering him.
Nico's face was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his gun hand shaking ever so slightly. He was nervous, too. His gaze darted around the warehouse periodically, as if he expected an army to jump out and surprise him.
His gait was irregular, jumpy almost. And although Connor might have written it off as nerves, he knew better; he'd seen it too many times before. Nico was higher than a kite, and coming down fast. Which meant his reactions might be slower than normal, his game off. And it was only going to get worse.
Connor reached down beside him, into a crack in the concrete, and pulled a small chunk free. With his left hand, he lobbed the rock across the warehouse, hitting a crate just behind Nico.
The man spun around, gun in hand, and Connor stood up to take the shot, but Jenny was still in the way. Nico moved a step toward the sound, his back still turned, and Connor pushed out of his hiding place, moving toward Jen, his focus entirely on her.
As he reached her, Nico turned, his face contorted with rage. They both fired, the shots going wide, and Connor reached Jen. Her eyes widened with hope, and he prayed he could live up to the faith reflected in her eyes.
Keeping as low as possible, he scooped her into his arms and over his shoulder. Nico's shots luckily missed their mark. Freeing his gun arm, Connor returned fire, but his enemy had retreated to the safety of the crates.
Connor turned to run, but then he heard the sound of another shot, the noise accompanied by hot fire in his shoulder. He stumbled but kept moving, his precious cargo the only thing that mattered. Three more steps and they were safely behind a row of boxes. But Nico was still between them and the door.
Breathing heavily, Connor set Jen on the concrete and worked to untie her hands and feet. When she was free, she threw herself into his arms, kissing his face and stroking his hair.
"You're bleeding," she whispered, her eyes full of tears.
"It's just a scratch." He forced a smile, knowing she wasn't buying any of it, but needing to try to comfort her nevertheless. With a force of will, he pushed her away as another bullet whizzed past them. This one had a velocity that told him Nico was closer.
Jen looked up at him for direction, and Connor placed his fingers against his lips and inched out into the walkway enough to try to place Nico. The warehouse was silent, the only sound was the shrill whistle of the winter wind through the windows some thirty feet above them.
No escape that way.
Their best bet was to move toward the door, trying to keep away from Nico at the same time. If the man held his position, they might just be able to circle behind him and get out the door before he realized what happened.
The other option was to leave Jen in place and hunt the man down. Connor had no doubt he’d be able to find him, but the worry was that Nico might find Jenny first, and that was simply more than Connor was willing to risk.
Grabbing her hand, he motioned toward the east wall. Jen nodded, and they began to make their way among the pallets. They were within a few yards of their destination when Connor saw a gap in the crates, and he gestured for Jen to crawl forward into the next aisle.
Following this pattern, they began to make their way toward the door, an occasional noise alerting them to the fact that they were still being hunted. They moved quietly for the most part, and were almost to the door when Jenny hit a rock with her foot, sending it scooting along the concrete.
They froze, crouching behind a six-foot crate, waiting.
Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, and there was no sound. But that didn't mean anything. Nico might be young, but he wasn't stupid, and even in a drug-induced haze, he'd have heard the noise and capitalized on it.
Jen tilted her head, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'. She was holding it together, but just barely. Connor recognized the signs.
"You're doing fine," he whispered, trying to reassure her. "Just hang on. We're almost out of here."
She nodded and reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze, and his heart swelled with love. He'd taken her for granted for so long. Had put her up on a shelf, just like she'd said. Wanted nothing more than to protect her.
But now he realized he wanted a hell of a lot more than that. He wanted a partner.
He wanted Jenny.
But first they had to get the hell out of here.
Pulling her behind him, he crouched down and moved through another gap in the crates. They were almost even with the door now. He could see the light through the cracks in the boxes, but their cover was ending, the crates petering out with about fifteen feet of open space between the pallets and the door.
If Nico were smart, he'd have moved to cover the distance so that any attempt Connor and Jenny made to break free would mean certain death. But Connor was betting against Nico. The man wasn't trained to think tactically. Which might mean he'd been trying to follow them instead.
Connor stopped at the edge of the last row, pulling Jen down beside him. "We've got to make a break for it." He glanced down at her, his gaze locking with hers. "I'm going to try to block you with my body. So whatever happens out there, I want you close to me. Is that clear?"
Her brows furrowed, and he recognized the look. She was going to argue. But he cut her off at the pass, placing a finger over her lips. "There's no time to argue, Jen. This is our best chance. If we're going to make it, we've got to go now. And you have to do as I tell you. It's the only way I'll be able to protect you."
"But who's going to protect you?" she hissed, sparks flying from her eyes.
"Years of experience. Now, come on. We'll debate the merits of equal partnership the minute we're out of here, okay? But right now, we do it my way"
She nodded, the set of her chin indicating that she didn't agree. But at least she was acquiescing. At the moment, that was all that mattered.
"On three," he whispered. "One... two... three."
They were up, out and running. But Nico was faster, firing from an adjacent corner. Jenny groaned and sank to the ground. Connor turned and fired back, but Nico ran and the bullet went wide. Connor lifted the gun to shoot again, his mind numb with fear, but before he could sight with his Beretta, Nico clutched his chest and fell to the ground. The look of surprise on his face was almost comical.
Connor spun around, and Anthony Furello stepped into the light, followed by three of his bodyguards.
"Don't move," Connor barked, edging toward Jenny.
Anthony held up a hand. "See to your lady."
Confusion mixed with his fear for Jen, and Connor narrowed his eyes, afraid to lower the gun.
"I have no argument with you, Fitzgerald. And you have none wit
h me." The old man took a step closer, both hands raised now, his gun holstered.
Connor nodded once, and dropped to his knees beside Jenny, gently rolling her over, his heart threatening to breakout of his chest as he searched for the bullet wound. Finally he found the tear in her coat, surprised that there was no blood. Ripping the buttons open, he found the envelope with the disk in the inside pocket, the paper torn, the plastic dented. The shot had evidently been glancing, the bullet deflecting off the disk.
Jenny was all right.
As if to assure him of the fact, she moaned, her eyes fluttering open. "What happened?" She sat up, leaning against him, her gaze landing squarely on Nico's body. "Did you—"
"No." Connor shook his head, surprised at how sorry he was not to have been able to claim the victory. "It was his father."
Jen frowned, then saw Anthony Furello standing there. Fear flashed across her face, and then surprisingly she smiled. "Quid pro quo?"
The older Furello nodded. "Nico crossed lines that should never have been crossed, and he knew the price for crossing them."
"The drugs," Connor said.
"That and Detective Proctor. I cannot condone the murder of a policeman."
"But how did you know that he'd kill him?"
Anthony shrugged. "A good businessman has eyes everywhere. Besides," the old man spat, "Nico was nothing if not predictable." He turned to go, the guards still standing watch.
"But Andy was dirty," Jen called after him. "And Nico was your son."
Anthony shrugged again, then stopped and turned, his lined face heavy with grief. "I have no son." He turned again and walked from the building, his men following.
Silence filled the warehouse, the only sound the pounding of Connor's heart.
"What just happened here?" Jen whispered, her hand clinging to Connor's.
"I think the old bastard just gave us a Christmas present."
Jen nodded, and allowed Connor to pull her to her feet. He started for the door, then stopped, realizing she wasn't following. Instead she stood holding the torn envelope. He'd left it on the floor, pocketing only the disk.
"What happened to the divorce papers? They’re not in here?" she asked, lifting her head, the expression in her eyes giving the question deeper meaning.
"I burned them the day they arrived." Connor laughed, certain suddenly that everything would be all right. That, as long as they were together, they could conquer anything.
He reached for her hand, pulling her out into the crisp winter air. The snow had stopped and the sky was clear and bright, and somewhere in the distance a bell was pealing. A Christmas bell.
And there, under a starry sky, accompanied by the dulcet tones of the bell, Connor and Jenny shared a Christmas kiss.
It was, after all, the season of miracles.
About Dee Davis
Award winning author Dee Davis worked in association management before turning her hand to writing. Her highly acclaimed first novel, Everything In Its Time, was published in July 2000. Since then, among others, she’s won the Booksellers Best, Golden Leaf, Texas Gold and Prism awards, and been nominated for the National Readers Choice Award, the Holt and two RT Reviewers Choice Awards. To date, she is the author of nineteen books and four novellas. When not sitting at the computer, Dee spends time exploring Manhattan her husband, daughter, and Cardigan Welsh Corgi.
Visit Dee at http://www.deedavis.com or catch up with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/deedavisbooks or follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/deesdavis
Photo: Jennifer Berry/Studio 16
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE