Noah didn’t hesitate to return fire. He squeezed off five shots, several of which struck his intended target.
Santiago fell back in the grass, motionless.
His bullet had hit Noah’s left upper arm, tearing through his uniform biceps. Ignoring the sting of pain, he gestured for April to stay put and strode forward, taking his flashlight from his utility belt. Holding it in tandem with his Glock, he approached the fallen man with extreme caution.
Santiago wasn’t breathing. There were four bullet holes in his upper chest, and they weren’t even bleeding. He’d been dead before he hit the ground.
Noah checked his pulse, just to make sure, and touched the radio at his shoulder, notifying dispatch of an officer down.
When he turned to look for April, she was limping toward him, tears streaming down her face. Her hair was straggly, her clothes were torn, and her stockings hung in tatters from her mud-streaked legs.
He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.
Running forward, he swept her into his embrace, feeling blood seep from the wound on his arm and hot pressure behind his eyes.
God. He loved her so much.
She sobbed in his arms, overwrought. “I thought I was going to die. I thought I’d never see you or Jenny again!”
“Shh,” he said, kissing the top of her head, fighting his own tears. “You’re safe now.”
She continued to cry, holding him tight.
“Are you okay?” he said, pulling back to study her face. Her cheek was ruddy and she had marks across her throat. “Did he rape you?”
“No. I—I got away.”
He hugged her again, overwhelmed with love and pride and relief. She felt so damned small in his arms, yet she’d fought like a wildcat and given a serial killer a run for his money. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”
She touched his wet arm, frowning. “This is a gunshot wound.”
“Yes,” he agreed. Now that he thought about it, he felt a little dizzy. “I probably need to get it looked at.”
Her teary eyes widened. “Ave Maria Purísima,” she said, recovering from her emotions. “Lie down.”
While he stretched out on his back, she ripped the already torn fishnet from around her thigh and took it off, wrapping the stocking around his upper arm. “I love it when you speak Spanish,” he murmured, finding her impossibly sexy and resourceful.
“You called for backup, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Noah!”
“What?” he asked, opening his eyes.
She was hovering over him, nibbling her lush lower lip. “I love you.”
He smiled wryly. “I should get shot more often.”
“Don’t say that! I’m so sorry I pushed you away, and tried to start fights, and slapped you in the kitchen. I’ve been such a fool. Please don’t die!”
“I’m not going to die,” he said, gaping at her. “This is nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Come here.”
She leaned in closer, her attention rapt.
He lifted his right hand, cupping the back of her head. “I love you, too,” he said, bringing her lips to his. Sobbing, she wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss, while a dozen squad cars descended on the scene, sirens blaring.
27
After he received treatment, Eric was taken to a dark hospital room, where he drifted in and out of consciousness for hours.
In the morning, he awoke to a throbbing body and a clear head. Before he opened his eyes, he cataloged his injuries. His ribs were bandaged tightly across his upper chest, and the laceration on his left side ached. When he tried to reach across to feel the stitches, he realized that his right hand was wrapped in gauze.
He moaned, because trying to move hurt. From the corner of the room, he heard a nondescript sound, like a book closing.
“Eric?”
It was Meghan.
His face felt magnified, grotesque. He wanted to explore the injuries above his shoulders, too, but he was afraid of what he’d find. Very gingerly, he opened his eyes. Well, one eye. The other was taped.
He needed a few seconds to orient himself. Everything was fuzzy. Both of his eye sockets ached and had certainly been blackened. Some kind of ointment clung to his lashes, obscuring his vision.
Meghan came up next to him. He blinked a few times, and her features came into focus. “Eric?”
He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry.
She grabbed a cup from his bedside and brought the straw to his lips. He drank a little, feeling incredibly weak and awkward. She set the cup aside and took his left hand, watching him with a troubled expression.
“How do I look?” he rasped.
“Awful.”
He closed his eye, resting. “Touch my side,” he said after a moment. “Describe it to me.”
Frowning, she tugged the blanket down to his waist, inspecting him. Her fingertips were cool against his skin. “There’s a large white bandage covering the wound.”
“Fuck.”
“The doctor said your eye will be fine. As soon as the swelling goes down, they’ll remove the gauze.”
Eric was more concerned about the rest of his body. He felt as if he’d been thrown from a moving vehicle. “I have to take a piss.”
“Oh! I’ll find the nurse.”
“No, wait. I think I can get up.”
With her help, he lumbered to his feet. His legs held his weight, so the short trip to the bathroom was uneventful. Not bothering to close the door, he braced his injured hand on the sink and relieved himself awkwardly with his left. Pissing didn’t hurt, and his male parts seemed to be in working order. Good to know.
Meghan assisted him back to bed, her cheeks flushed pink. “Better now?”
“Yeah,” he said, wincing at the pain in his side as he reclined against the pillows again. “Am I under arrest?”
She nodded, her bangs falling over her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. There’s an officer stationed outside your door.”
“What’s the charge?”
“I don’t know. Noah’s here, being treated for a gunshot wound—”
“What? When did that happen?”
Meghan told him that April had been taken out to the salt marsh by the killer, Detective Victor Santiago. Noah went to rescue her and was shot in the process. Apparently the information Eric gave him helped to solve the case, and save April’s life.
“Is he okay?”
“Oh, yes. He says it’s just a scratch.”
“What about April?”
“Her ankle is sprained, but she’s fine otherwise. She was here earlier, with Jenny. You were asleep. Anyway, Noah told me you needed a lawyer. With the beating you suffered, and the first stab wound, of course, it’s an obvious case of self-defense.”
“No,” he said immediately. “It isn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I agreed to the fight, Meghan. I threw the first punch. And I killed him.”
“Who pulled the knife, Eric?”
He didn’t answer.
“There are witnesses.”
“A group of rival gang members who would never testify on my behalf.”
She moistened her lips. “Noah gave a sworn statement. He thinks that your assistance in capturing the serial killer will make a difference with the DA. At the very least, the charges will be reduced, and you can have your say in court—”
“No,” he interrupted, startling her with his vehemence. “I won’t.”
“Eric, if you plead guilty to murder, you’ll get twenty-five years. Minimum.”
He sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow.
“On Monday, you can talk to a lawyer. Get this sorted out.”
Eric didn’t argue with her. There was nothing else to say. He would go to jail—and then on to prison. Eastside would be gunning for him. Dos Emes would approach him.
He had a future with the prison
gang or none at all.
“April called your mother,” she said finally.
“Shit,” he groaned, closing his eye. He couldn’t imagine what his mother was going through. One son not even buried yet, the other in the hospital, under arrest. “I have to go to Raul’s funeral.”
“When is it?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll ask Noah what arrangements can be made,” she promised, staring at him solemnly. “Do you want me to stay with you for a little while?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Please.”
She sat in the chair at his bedside, holding his left hand. After a few minutes, she rested her head on his thigh, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. He stroked her hair, comforting her as well as he could, but he didn’t tell her not to cry.
If his eyes weren’t so fucked up, he’d join her.
28
Epilogue
Noah took April and Jenny home for Thanksgiving.
She was nervous about meeting his family, so he promised a short visit. They would arrive this afternoon, have dinner, and spend the night—in separate bedrooms. The next morning, they would leave.
Meghan agreed to the plan readily, also preferring a quick stay.
Over the past few months, April and Meghan had grown close. They talked about Eric, and Meghan had even mentioned the sexual assault he’d saved her from. She admitted that she was reluctant to tell her mother about the incident.
April had hugged her, trying to give support instead of advice.
Meghan had also become fond of Jenny. She’d offered to babysit her for free. Noah said he would consider it work for rent, and April acquiesced easily. The arrangement was convenient and comfortable for all.
Now she and Jenny both slept over several nights a week.
Noah recovered from his gunshot wound quickly, and April’s ankle was better in a few days. They spent a dreamy week together, lazing about on the beach. Then Jenny started kindergarten, and April went back to work. Her classes at San Diego State, which had also commenced, were both interesting and challenging.
Life was good. For the most part.
Josefa must not have hit rock bottom, because she was still up to her old tricks. April saw her at the club on rare occasions. She was hoping her mother would take the necessary steps to get sober, but she wasn’t holding her breath.
And Eric … She wept for Eric.
Meghan had begged him not to plead guilty. April had asked him to reconsider. Even Noah had gone to visit him, speaking about the realities for a nice-looking boy in prison. Eric had refused to be swayed.
In a last-ditch effort to get through to him, April used her trump card: Jenny. She wanted Eric in her daughter’s life, and she wouldn’t let Jenny visit him behind bars. He finally agreed to plea-bargain for a lesser charge, voluntary manslaughter. The penalty for that crime carried a mandatory three years in prison, but he could do as many as eleven.
They had their fingers crossed for a light sentence.
Any amount of time in prison would be difficult for Eric, of course. April worried that he would need gang protection to survive, and wondered if he no longer valued his life. He’d been so emotionally detached since his arrest, ignoring his family members, ending his relationship with Meghan.
The breakup was in Meghan’s best interests, of course, but April’s heart ached for them both. Meghan was desperately in love with Eric, and he obviously felt the same way. She’d been listless and depressed. Although Noah was concerned about his sister’s well-being, he’d never approved of the relationship and was relieved they were no longer together. He thought Meghan would get over Eric in a few more weeks.
April wasn’t so sure.
Before they arrived in Cedar Glen, Noah stopped at an apple orchard so they could stretch their legs. Jenny was delighted by the prospect of picking her own apples. When April nodded her permission, Meghan grabbed a bushel and they raced into the orchard together, looking for the best trees.
April smiled at the sight of the two girls, one light-haired, the other dark, running hand in hand.
“I think she’s been good for Meghan,” Noah said.
“Meghan has definitely been good for Jenny.” Noah’s sister hadn’t exactly replaced Josefa, and no one could fill the hole that Eric left, but Jenny adored Meghan. She spoke of the older girl incessantly and hung on her every word.
Noah had been good for Jenny, too. His easy affection for her daughter made April love him all the more.
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked around, enjoying the brisk air and bright sunshine. The apple orchard was like something out of a picture, with rolling hills, fruit-laden trees, and snowcapped mountains in the distance.
“How close is Cedar Glen?” she asked.
“Another half hour. What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Would you like to live here?”
She glanced at him, surprised. He wasn’t just making idle conversation. “Would you?”
He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’d rather live in Chula Vista. Or any good-size city with a homicide department. But I can always commute, and this is a great place to raise a family.”
She couldn’t guess what he was thinking. He looked so charming in this storybook setting, with his nice wool sweater and sincere blue eyes. “I’m already raising a family,” she reminded him, tilting her head to one side.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “And doing a fine job.”
She waited for him to continue, bemused.
He cleared his throat. “Assuming you want to stay in Chula Vista for the time being, Meghan and I … well, we talked the other day, and you know she adores Jenny. We’d like you to move in with us. Jenny could take the upstairs bedroom.”
April moistened her lips, her mind racing. “Where would Meghan go?”
“The den. It’s a bigger space, actually, and more private.”
April didn’t know what to say. Moving was a huge decision for her. It would involve a school transfer for Jenny.
“I hate to see you struggling to make ends meet, April. I know you’re exhausted, and you can barely keep up with your homework. If you moved in with me, you could quit your job and concentrate on school.”
Her stomach twisted with unease. “Are you embarrassed of what I do?”
“No! You’re a damned good waitress, and you work your ass off. I’m proud of you.”
She relaxed a little. “I wouldn’t mind working fewer nights.”
“I’m going to do another year on the gang unit, anyway, so I’ll be working nights myself.”
“When did you decide that?”
“Just recently. Santiago’s team is still recovering from his loss, and they would have trouble accepting me right now. Also, though I hate admitting that Patrick is right, I could probably use some more patrol experience.”
“This is very sudden,” she murmured.
He cupped his hand around her face, looking into her eyes. “April, you’re the one. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I’m willing to start slow.”
“Moving in together after three months isn’t starting slow!”
“It’s slower than an engagement ring.”
She froze, realizing that this moment was even bigger than she thought.
Noah muttered something like screw it and got down on one knee. Taking a black velvet box out of his pocket, he opened it. She saw a sparkling white diamond on a slim platinum ring.
“Oh, my God,” she said, her mouth trembling.
“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and say you’ll be my wife?”
“Oh, my God,” she repeated, looking around. Meghan was still picking apples with Jenny, watching them out of the corner of her eye.
“We don’t have to get married right away,” he promised. “But I would love to introduce you to my family as my fiancée.”
“You just want to sleep in my roo
m tonight!”
He laughed out loud, almost falling sideways in the autumn leaves. “I can’t say the possibility didn’t cross my mind,” he said, eyes twinkling. “It’s going to take years to hit the thousand mark you asked for, and I need all the opportunities I can get.”
April removed the ring from the box with shaking hands and slipped it on her finger. Her throat closed up as she looked from the glittering stone to his handsome face. She nodded. It was the least cautious, most wonderful thing she’d ever done.
He leapt to his feet, wrapping his arms around her. “Yes? You said yes?”
She smiled through her tears. “You didn’t think I would?”
“I thought you’d come around eventually, not the first time I asked!”
“Well, now you’re stuck.”
He swallowed, visibly choked up. “I love you.”
She touched his face. “I love you, too, Noah.”
He dipped his head to kiss her, and she melted against him, twining her arms around his neck, reveling in the warmth of his embrace. By the time the kiss ended, Meghan and Jenny were standing there with a bushel of red apples, their cheeks flushed.
“She said yes,” Noah explained.
Jenny didn’t have any idea what April had agreed to, but Meghan did, and her joy was infectious. She picked up Jenny and twirled her around the orchard, their laughing faces turned toward the sun.
Please read on for an exciting sneak peek of
Jill Sorenson’s next sizzling novel,
coming soon from Bantam Books.
1
Karina Strauss approached the San Ysidro border crossing at a snail’s pace, her cargo van idling among a thousand other vehicles.
There were twenty-four lanes on the Tijuana side, a massive snarl of traffic that found order in the last hundred yards. Before the inspection booths were visible, the dividing lines were ignored. Cars lurched forward in semi-regular intervals. While the most aggressive drivers cut in ahead of others, zigzagging through the chaos, street vendors walked up and down the narrow aisles, selling everything from chicle and cold drinks to silver jewelry and colorful hammocks. As always, the peddlers included elderly women, disabled men, and children whose shoulders barely cleared the hoods of cars.
The Edge of Night Page 31