THAT MAN 8

by Nelle L’Amour

  I dashed to her side. She was sprawled out on her stomach, her hands anchored by her shoulders as if she was trying to push herself up.

  “Jen, Jen, are you all right?”

  No response. Panic surged. My heart clenched in my chest.

  “Talk to me, tiger. Please talk to me!” Let me hear you roar.

  “Yes,” she finally breathed out as she staggered to her feet with my help. And then she winced, her right leg buckling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Blake, I think I twisted my ank—”

  Not letting her finish her sentence, I scooped her up into my arms. “C’mon. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” The familiar razor-sharp voice. “This is the end of the road for you two murderous scumbags.”

  Carrying Jen, I spun around. Staggering toward us, her perfectly coiffed hair in disarray, her prim suit covered in dust, the psycho bitch smirked, her assassinous eyes shooting daggers. Glinting with wicked determination.

  The gun in her hand aimed at both of us.

  Chapter 24

  Jennifer

  Blake’s heart was pounding as fast and loudly as mine. I could feel it in my bones, hear it in my ears. An overwhelming feeling of sadness, fear, and hopelessness washed over me, and perhaps it could all be summed up in one word. Despair.

  Our short life together was coming to an end. A horrible, tragic end. I was going to lose my beloved husband. And him, me. We were both going to die at the hands of this sick, ruthless woman. We’d never see our dear friends or family again. Or our dog. And this: we’d never meet our precious baby!

  Tears pricked my eyes. Why did Don Springer have to come into my life? Follow me from college to Conquest. I thought he was finally out of it after Blake beat the life out of him, but he never left. He was always there, hiding in the spirit of his sinister sibling, as loyal as she was screwed up. A hot tear escaped one eye and trickled down my cheek.

  “Stop crying, you little bitch!” Still pointing the gun at us, now held firmly in both hands, Krystal scrunched up her face. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  “I do!!” I wanted to shout back, but as the searing tears kept coming, I could only tell Blake how much I loved him in the softest of voices. A mere whisper.

  “Tiger, I love you too,” he rasped back as our soon-to-be killer curled her right index finger around the trigger. It was all too much. I broke into heaving sobs and clung to Blake’s neck like a vise, my head resting against his rock hard chest. Like a “Best of” retrospective show, all the wonderful memories of our time together played randomly in my head in no chronological order. Beginning with that very first time I kissed him blindfolded and knew my life was changed forever . . . Our surprise Christmas in July wedding . . . Our first slow dance in Vegas . . . My first Shabbat at his parents’ house when I accidentally saw his manhood for the first time . . . Our walk with Scout and the Shitstick . . . That time we broke a motel bed while fucking our brains out . . . The snow angels . . . All those thoughtful, unexpected gifts . . . That first Christmas kiss under the mistletoe . . . And every kiss ever since.

  Oh, those delicious, kissable lips! I so needed his lips on mine. One last time. With rivers of tears, I lifted my head and looked up at him. As if he’d been reading my mind or thinking the same things, his lips curled into the smallest of smiles, just enough to make those dimples shine, and then his head angled down, and on my next strangled breath, his lips touched down on mine. So warm and soft like a blanket of love. I let my mouth succumb to his, parting my lips so his velvety tongue could enter and do its final dance. Our last tango.

  I wanted it to last forever. I wanted us to last forever. Until death do us part. My heart throbbed, my body ached. That vow wasn’t meant to be. Fate had betrayed us. Hot tears in my throat, my lips trembled against Blake’s in a mad frenzy of passion and lust.

  “That’s it!” hissed Krystal. Finality in her brash, booming voice. We were one click away from doom.

  But that didn’t stop us. Blake deepened the kiss, sucking on my lips as my hands cupped his stubbled jaw, drawing him closer to me. If we were going to die, this is how it would be. Just like the lovers in The Kiss painting Blake had given me. Oneness. And if we were lucky, one bullet would be fired at close range. Going through my body straight through his. Piercing my heart. His heart. We’d die in unison, sparing each of us the unbearable anguish of seeing the other die first. Letting us fall together in a crumpled heap. Our inseparable limbs entangled. Twisted into a lovers’ infinity knot.

  I wanted to stay lost in the moment. Never let go of my beloved, beautiful husband. The man who loved me. Protected me. And was my superhero. That Man.

  Yet, every man, no matter how strong and powerful, or as invincible as he seemed, had his kryptonite. Something that could rob him of his superpowers. Make him vulnerable. Blake had his.

  A loaded gun.

  Click.

  Then, a thunderous bang.

  And a flash of black.

  Chapter 25

  Blake

  “Oh my God! Get this fucking beast off me!” shrieked Krystal, flailing her arms as she tried to free herself from our dog Scout, who was barking and growling like there was no tomorrow. Which up until this minute was a grim reality.

  It all happened so fast. The attack. Scout had managed to break out of our bedroom, knocking down the door with a thunderous crash. Startling Jen and me out of our kiss, he’d flown into the living room like a scud missile—a black blip—and made a beeline for our assailant, catching her off guard.

  “Don’t just stand there!” she cried out again as our relentless Scout shredded her suit with his teeth, standing on his hind legs with his big paws on her shoulders. “Help me!”

  “Blake, what should we do?” Though she was right next to me, my frightened Jen had to shout above the deafening cacophony of Krystal’s frantic shrieks and our dog’s rabid barks.

  Still holding her in my arms, I didn’t answer. The problem was that the crazy bitch was still gripping the loaded gun in one hand. She was a loose cannon. Dangerous and unpredictable. I weighed my options and the outcomes. Yes, I could try to pull Scout off her or kick the gun out of her hand, but who knew if she’d use it first. Kill me. My wife. Our dog. One or all three of us.

  Scratch that.

  I could also try to get Jen and myself to safety. Out of the living room or even better the apartment. But there was no easy escape route as we’d have to skirt by the gun-wielding maniac any which way we fled. Our chances were fifty-fifty at best.

  Scratch that.

  Finally, I could try calling 911. But that was impossible because my phone was in my jacket, which I’d left in the entryway and Jen’s was who the hell knows where. She was always losing or misplacing it.

  Scratch that.

  That left only one choice. To let Scout go at the psycho bitch. Tear her to pieces. Turn her into dog meat.

  Go, boy, go!

  Jennifer

  I clung to Blake as I watched Scout maul Krystal, the hairs on his backside bristling like a porcupine and his head jerking left and right, up and down as he tore off her clothing. A vicious tug of war that Scout was winning. My heart pounding against my rib cage, I silently cheered him on.

  Krystal’s clothes were in tatters. Our unstoppable dog had even torn off the sleeve of her jacket. Standing on his hind legs, he was in her face, his jaw snapping at her madly, slobber pouring from his mouth.

  “Get this fucking monster off me!” she screamed again, terror written all over her contorted face.

  Her hysterics only aggravated Scout, making him more aggressive. More relentless. More vicious.

  “Scout!” I called out at the top of my lungs, but he ignored me and began tearing at the collar of her red silk blouse, determined to rip it off. With a hiss, one side of it detached, exposing the necklace with Don Springer’s diamond pinky ring.

  “GRRRR!
” growled Scout louder as he played tug of war with the thick chain, trying to yank it off her neck, shaking his head back and forth vehemently. It was only then I realized it was the very same obnoxious gold chain that Don Springer wore around his neck.

  “Stop him!” screeched Krystal, her arms flailing and her voice hoarse.

  The fear vibrating in my chest gave way to a spark of hope. My breath hitched in my throat. Scout was winning. He had the upper hand and was going to take her down. Then, suddenly, without warning, victory was cut short by a violent thrust as Scout’s prey whacked him on his skull with the metal gun. My fur baby yelped in pain, then she hit him again and again. Pistol-whipping him!

  “Blake,” I sobbed, “she’s going to kill him!” I watched in horror, my heart beating in my throat, as Scout withstood each bone-shattering blow, growing weaker and weaker with each successive one. His yelps morphed into whimpers. Then, moans as he sagged to the floor in a crumpled heap. His front paws protectively curled on top of his bleeding head. His body limp. Unable to stand up.

  Scalding hot tears rushed down my face. My poor baby boy! My fur baby! I had to save him. Just as he’d tried to save me. My brave, loyal, loving dog! I owed him my life! And I owed him his!

  With a bolt of adrenaline that obliterated the shooting pain in my ankle, I jumped out of Blake’s arms.

  “Jesus, Jen!” he cried out. “What are you doing?”

  I was going to save our dog!

  He risked his life! I was going to risk mine.

  Then, BANG!

  Blake

  What the hell was my wife doing?

  Plain and simple. And crazy as shit. She was limping into the battlefield, like a delirious, wounded soldier armed with fierce determination. And out for revenge. My heart jumped as another gunshot whisked by her and ricocheted off the back wall.

  “Jen, get down!”

  “Fuck her! Fuck you!” screamed Krystal, her face purple with rage, her eyes wild with madness. She recklessly fired again and as she did, I lunged at my tiger, knocking her flat to the floor. My supine body sheathing her like protective armor, I could feel her labored breathing beneath my weight. Thank God, she was still alive.

  “Blake,” I heard her mumble. “Scout!”

  “Shh!” I whispered in her ear. “Don’t move.”

  I felt her acknowledge me with the tiniest of nods. Slowly, I raised my head just a few inches and gazing up, met Krystal’s deranged eyes. Smirking, she pointed the gun at me.

  “You’ve made it so easy for me, Blake Fucking Burns. First you. Then your slut for a wife. So much for you being her white knight in shining armor.”

  “Krystal, I’m sorry I killed your brother. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

  Her brows lifted to her razor-sharp bangs. “An accident? You honestly want me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.” And the quasi-truth it was as the memory of that fatal night played in my head. No, I couldn’t stop stabbing Springer with the tip of Jen’s crutch or whacking him with it. I was like a pilot on autodrive. “I got carried away!”

  “Shut up! One more word and I’ll blow a bullet through your ugly skull before I count to three.”

  One more word.

  In my tiger’s self-defense course, she’d learned to yell “fire” to get someone’s attention or distract an assailant. That word of all words wasn’t going to work here. If I uttered it, she’d shoot me. Fire the gun.

  A horrifying mixture of despair and desperation swept over me. I’d run out of magical thinking. Our lives were over. I was about to tell my tiger how much I love her one last time when I heard a rumble and felt the building shake. Every muscle in my body quivered like I was having an orgasm. But this was no orgasm. Holy shit. We were having an earthquake! A big one! In the kitchen, I could hear plates rattling and nearby on the bar, several wineglasses shattered. Then, with a crash, Krystal’s tripod with the video camera toppled over.

  “Oh my God!” shrieked Krystal, terror in her voice, as the apartment kept shaking. Her face blanched, her body teetered, and the gun shook in her trembling hands.

  Yet another tremor and I sprung to my feet, ready to lunge at her.

  And at the very same time, to my wide-eyed shock, so did Scout, jumping onto his hind legs as if he was wearing springs on his back paws. He was alive!

  Not stopping, I heard Krystal scream. Part in shock. Part in pain. Growling ferociously, Scout was all over her, blood spouting from her neck.

  A blast of gunfire.

  BAM! And then all turned to black.

  Chapter 26

  Jennifer

  Silence.

  The calm after the storm.

  But this had been a storm like none other. A major earthquake, the likes of which I’d never experienced. And an explosive gunshot fired in the height of it.

  I was afraid to open my eyes.

  Afraid of what I might see.

  Pure, unadulterated fear consumed me.

  My body was still trembling and my breathing was labored. Still stretched out face down on the floor, every muscle in my body ached. I blinked my eyes several times, squeezing out tears like one of those Squeegee mops my mom loved.

  Slowly, hesitantly, bravely, I lifted myself up, first into a cobra position and then onto all fours. Prying my eyes open, part in silent prayer, part in heart-pounding fear, I took in my surroundings and my jaw fell to the floor.

  Oh my God! The place was a disaster. But I didn’t give a damn about the broken glasses or ceramic planters. Or the priceless chandelier, a gift from Blake’s mother, that had fallen and shattered on our dining table.

  I gasped and a hand flew to my mouth.

  Before me was carnage. A pile up of three bodies surrounded by a pool of blood. Krystal’s face up, all the color drained from her, and Scout and Blake facedown, sprawled on top of her. Neither of them moved.

  As if we were having another earthquake, a violent tremor shot through me. I felt the earth open beneath me, then swallow me whole. NO! I silently screamed. Please God, NO!

  I’d lost my husband! I’d lost our dog!

  Grief latched onto me like a suction cup, sucking all the air out of my lungs. My chest tightened so much I thought I was suffocating. Bile rose to the back of my throat and as I was about to throw up, my watering eyes grew wide. Could it be?

  Blake was moving his fingers. He was alive!

  “Blake!” I breathed out, springing to my feet and ignoring the pain that shot up my right ankle. Slowly, he stood up and I hobbled toward him as fast as I could. We met each other halfway and held each other in a vise-like embrace. The tears I’d held back sprung to my eyes and fell freely down my cheeks.

  “Oh Blake, I thought I’d lost you. That she shot you. That you were d—”

  He silenced me with a tender kiss, then gently cupped my face with his hands, his beautiful blue eyes burning into mine. “Shh! You know I’d never leave you. I’m That Man, remember? Your superhero.”

  Blinking back tears, I nodded. He was my superhero. My husband. My lover. My soul mate. My protector. The soon-to-be father of our baby. My everything. Then, I glanced down and gasped again. There was a huge bright red patch on the side of his shirt. Blood! “Oh my God, Blake. She did hurt you! You’re bleeding!” There was also blood all over my hand from where I’d touched him.

  Blake lowered his eyes. “Baby, I’m fine.” He gave me a reassuring smile and then his face darkened. “Jesus!”

  My gaze immediately shot across the room. My panic button went off. Scout was still sprawled on top of an unconscious Krystal, the crimson pool around them expanding rapidly. He wasn’t moving. Not a muscle! A horrific, bone-chilling shudder of reality came over me.

  “Oh my God, Blake! It’s Scout! She killed him!”

  “Tiger, stay here!” Apprehension etched deep on his face, he sprinted over to our motionless dog. There was no way I was staying behind. I loved this dog from here to the moon and back. He was my fur baby.
My precious fur baby. Wincing with every step, I followed Blake, tears in my eyes, my two-ton heart in my throat. My poor, sweet Scout! When I caught up to Blake, he was on his knees next to Scout, one hand on his back. The sight of my lifeless dog was all too much for me. I broke into uncontrollable sobs.

  “Jen, Jen! He’s alive. He’s still breathing!” My husband gazed up at me. “Feel!”

  Wordlessly, I brushed away my tears. Crouching down next to Blake, I let him take my tear-stained hand and place it on Scout’s silky back. I let out a gasp. Or was it a sigh of relief? Beneath my palm, I could feel the rise and fall of Scout’s chest. It was ever so slight, but it was real. Scout was alive! My skin tingled with hope, but it was fleeting. The puddle of blood around us had gotten bigger! Fear poured back into my veins. My stomach clenched.

  “Blake! He’s still bleeding! We need to do something!”

  “Quick! Call Dr. Chase. Where’s your phone?”

  “In the bedroom. On the nightstand.”

  “I’ll get it. Stay here with Scout. I’m going to get my phone, too, and call 911.”

  “Okay.” My voice was a tearful rasp.

  As Blake dashed off, I curled into a sitting position on the floor, putting my cheek against Scout and stroking him gently with my hand. I wept quietly, my hot tears soaking his coat.

  “Please don’t die, baby boy! I love you so much! Promise me you won’t.”

  Softly, I began to sing to him. Our song. The special one that belonged to Blake and me. “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.”

  As the words slowly spilled from my quivering lips, that first time I saw Scout at the West LA Shelter rushed into my head. His big brown expressive eyes! His smiling mouth! That look on his face that said take me home with you! Yes, the first time ever I saw his face I knew he was meant to be mine.

  I don’t know if he could hear me singing, but I continued anyway, each word more choked than the one before. I could barely get out another one because tears were clogging my throat. Then, suddenly, he let out a little moan and moved his tail a millimeter. My heart flooded with emotion. He heard me! My fur baby heard me!