by Hayden Wolfe
“This visit has nothing to do with checking on your dad’s gravesite, does it?”
Blaine shook her head and turned away from Jack. “One of the last times I spoke to my dad, we fought. I was cranky with him for days afterward. We never made up. I let my stupid anger follow Dad into the grave. We never hugged again. I never got to say I was sorry for what I said.”
Jack settled a hand on her shoulder, a simple reminder she wasn’t alone in this. She took a slow, calming breath. “I told him he was a stupid, ridiculous old man stuck in the past. That he needed to realize he wasn’t raising a daughter who wanted to waste her life on girl things.”
“You were what? Fifteen?” Jack stepped closer to her. His strength radiated along her back. “Sounds like an argument all teenagers have with their parents at some point.”
“Maybe.” She’d told herself the same thing over the years. “But this fight was over a whole lot of money. I was angry. Really, really angry. Avery didn’t have the same conditions affixed to his trust fund. He got his hands on it a couple years ago. But me? Nope. I had to wait until I was entering middle-age or meet old-fashioned traditions that have no place in our world anymore. My worth is not defined by my babies or husband.”
Jack wrapped his arms around her. “You’re right. You have the ability to change the world through your music.”
Blaine smiled. Jack’s words empowered her. “Exactly. Father never realized this.”
“But if I had to guess, he did.” Jack turned her in his arms.
“What does that have to do with forcing me to have a baby and marry in order to get the same amount of money Avery did without having to wait until he was forty-five?”
“You told me Avery refused to learn the violin, but you did, which is why the Zima violin is now yours.”
Blaine nodded but didn’t say anything else. Curiosity kept her riveted to Jack. Where was he going with this?
“Your son or daughter will be the one who inherits the Zima violin next, not Avery’s kids, if he ever has any. Right?”
With one statement, everything her dad ever said and did made sense. His insistence her husband take her name. The pressure he put on her to fit children into her life. Everything. It wasn’t about him being old-fashioned.
“Why didn’t he ever say it like that?” Blaine gripped Jack’s forearms. “I thought he was being a ridiculous old man.”
“I don’t know, angel, but it’s not too late to say you’re sorry.”
“That’s really why I wanted to come here. To have some kind of closure so I could move on.” On a bitter laugh, she shook her head. “Maybe tell him he should be happy he got his way.”
“That you’re going to continue playing the violin?” Jack raised a brow. “Prove to him that your music can still change the world, just in a different way.”
She planted a hand on her hip. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Nope.” Jack smirked. “Not when I know what I’m fighting for is important.”
“I don’t know if the tour—”
Jack stopped her with a finger against her lips. “We’re not talking about the tour. We’re talking about your music. Whether that ends up being your violin or your singing. Embrace it. The world needs the emotion your music provides. And I need to know the end of your symphony. Finish it, Blaine. Even if you only ever play it for me.”
Blaine licked her lips, then nodded. “I need to finish it too, but first, I need to say I’m sorry to my dad.”
“Then let’s do this.”
With Jack’s hand in hers, she was ready to face this moment and her life ahead.
Chapter 25
Head bowed and eyes closed, Blaine finished her prayer. The heaviness she’d carried in her heart for the past decade lifted. She could almost feel her dad’s love and acceptance wrap around her. Now it was time to go.
Blaine glanced into Jack’s face. He’d knelt next to her the whole time she’d silently spoken to her dad. “I’m ready.”
With her hand in his, Jack stood, drawing her up with him. “Then, let’s—”
A loud pop sounded. Tiny pieces of the headstone struck her skin. Jack yanked her behind the stone marker and pushed her head down.
“Jack, what—”
“Somebody just took a shot at us.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
He pressed a single finger to his lips, a sign to stay quiet, then he leaned to look around the side of the headstone. Another bullet hit the marker. More dust and stones met the air. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stop her cry as Jack jerked back.
“We need to get out of here. I’m going to act as your shield, and we’re going to run to the church.” Jack spoke in a low, calm voice. “The moment we’re inside, I want you to grab your purse from the pew and call the police. Then we’ll barricade ourselves inside one of the rooms until they get here.”
Blaine focused on her breathing. If Jack was calm, she would be too. “Alex is close. He’ll be here soon.”
Jack slid a pointed look at her. “No bodyguard would allow a shooter to get off two shots before acting. He didn’t park that far away.”
“Maybe Alex didn’t get a chance to act yet.”
“Maybe.” Jack’s expression didn’t hold any hope. “But we’re not waiting for him. Once we move, we keep going. Stay low and run, got it?”
And he’d act as her shield. She hated the idea, but they didn’t have a whole lot of options. She didn’t want to risk their babies any more than Jack would. She nodded.
“Good.” Jack gave her a quick kiss, then tugged her forward.
Bullet after bullet hit the ground around them. None came close enough to hit them. The thought skipped through her mind. The shooter was playing with them.
Jack opened the door to the church. The moment she was inside, several shots fired in rapid succession. Jack grunted and fell backward. Blood sprayed. Another bullet hit the ground next to him. He jerked his leg, scooching backward, away from the open door.
“Jack!” Blaine took a step toward him.
“Back.” The harshly spoken order stopped her from going to his aid. He dragged himself behind the closest gravestone as more bullets hit the spot where he’d just been.
Blaine gripped the inside of the doorframe. She had a perfect view of where Jack crouched behind the stone marker. Blood dripped from his arm, his side, and his thigh. She covered her mouth. “Jack.”
With his hand pressed to the wound on his thigh, he focused hardened eyes on her. “Dig your cell out of your purse, call the police, and get yourself somewhere safe. Do it now.”
Seven, maybe eight feet separated them. “But you—”
“Leave the door open. I’ll get in as soon as I can.”
Blaine focused on the blood dripping around his fingers and running down his leg. There shouldn’t be that much blood. He was hurt. Because of her. He’d been acting as her shield.
She blinked past the tears blurring her vision and ran into the building, snatching her purse from where she left it and moving closer to the windows, where she could get a signal. The moment her call connected, she gave the operator the details, then disconnected the call without waiting to hear his instructions. Movement caught her eye.
Blaine focused on the bell tower. From this angle, she could just see the open tower, and the shooter standing on the landing near the bells.
Alex aimed his gun in the direction of the cemetery. He didn’t have a direct path. Trees blocked his view of where Jack crouched behind the gravestone, but Alex leaned farther out the window. Another shot went off. Blaine flicked her gaze to where Jack crouched behind the tombstone. Another cloud of dust and stone showered over the spot where he hid.
The sense of betrayal choked her. Blaine’s harsh breaths fed the anger building within her.
Dropping her purse, she shoved her cell into her pocket and ran across the church to the corridor leading to the bell tower. She had no delusions about
taking Alex out. She wasn’t a fighter, but there was no way she’d allow this coward to steal the man who’d fight for her.
With her heart in her throat, Blaine made her way to the ringing room. Thick, corded ropes hung from the ceiling of the stone chamber. Dark, grimy marks on the leather grips directed Blaine to the perfect spots to tug on the ropes. She grabbed the first one and yanked, over and over, until the bell clanged hard. In a rush, she tugged on the other ropes, sending all the bells into a piercing clamor, then ran, locking the door to the bell tower and the ringing room behind her.
Her breath came in rough pants. Blaine pushed herself harder, running full-out through the church. She needed to see if her stunt paid off.
A strong arm caught her as she neared the door leading to the cemetery. A scream crawled up her throat. The bloody hand over her mouth stopped her.
“It’s me, angel. I got you.”
“Jack!” Blaine turned in his arms just as he tumbled forward. She caught him as he fell and dropped to her knees with his weight pressing on her. “Oh God, Jack.”
“I’m okay.” Jack’s voice sounded as strong as ever. He pushed himself off her, landing hard on his ass next to her body. “Got a bullet in my leg. Deep one. Hurts like hell.”
“Oh, Jack.” She pressed her hand hard over the spot where blood was leaking in steady rivulets from his thigh. Even with the pressure she applied, blood still leaked between her fingers and dribbled down the back of her hand. “You need a doctor.”
He waved her words off. “I’ll be fine.”
Sirens blared in the background, stopping her from telling him he better be fine. Help was on the way. Then she wanted answers. Alex had better have them too, or she’d make him wish he’d never met her. One way or another, she always got her way.
Chapter 26
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Eliot’s voice was the last thing Blaine expected to hear in a Russian hospital waiting room.
All the anger that had been festering within her since the police arrived at the cemetery flooded her veins. With her nostrils flaring on her rough breaths, Blaine stood. Her cell phone slipped from her lap and fell with a clunk to the floor.
Hands fisted, she took a step forward. The police had taken a shackled Alex back to the station before she was able to get her answers. Eliot would give them to her. Or he would pay.
Eliot rushed forward and grabbed her arms. “Avery told me everything, what you went through. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
While Avery went to the police, her mother had accompanied Blaine to the hospital. Thankfully, her mother was meeting with the head of the hospital, arranging the best care for Jack. Blaine didn’t need a witness to see her losing her shit or possibly attacking a member of the extended royal family.
“Why aren’t you sharing a cell with your assistant?” Blaine got up in Eliot’s face. “Or don’t they know how you were in on this? How the two of you planned to kill us?”
Releasing her, Eliot pressed his hands to his eyes and turned away. “I didn’t know. I didn’t, Blaine. I swear on my country’s flag, my father’s name, my mother’s life, anything you’d believe. I didn’t know.”
The sincerity and pain in Eliot’s voice stopped her from flinging more hateful words at him. “Why are you in Russia?” One question at a time.
“Alex called me.” Eliot made a disgusted sound. “He missed me. Said he was bored and lonely. You didn’t want him hovering over you while you visited your mother. So, I…I flew in this afternoon. We were going to spend the weekend together.”
“You’re together, aren’t you? As in, together. You and Alex. He’s not just your employee.”
“Were together. Past tense, Blaine.” Eliot pivoted. “We’re over. I want to see him locked away for a long, long time for what he did to you. He could’ve killed you.”
“Jack wouldn’t have allowed that.” Blaine pointed a shaky finger toward the hall. “He acted as my shield. He took the bullets meant for me.”
Eliot looked in the direction she indicated, even though there was nothing there to see. “Will your fiancé be okay?”
Blaine swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight, dry. “Jack made it through surgery. That’s all I know. He hasn’t woken up yet.”
Eliot dipped his head. With his gaze on the floor, he exhaled slowly. “I’m glad Jack was there for you, but from what Alex has told me, you weren’t the target today.”
“I don’t understand. You just told me Alex could’ve killed me. A bullet might’ve done that. Had it not been for Jack—”
“Not tonight, Blaine. You weren’t the target tonight.”
Blaine eased away from Eliot. “What do you mean?”
“I mentioned to Alex that I wished you couldn’t sing anymore because it was the only way I saw you ever agreeing to play the violin for me.” Eliot slid his focused gaze to the scar on her face. “It appears he took my frustrated rant over your stubbornness as an order.”
Blaine covered her cheek. “Alex did this? How? He was right there after the attack and…”
“Was in the range to throw that star.” Eliot sat on one of the hard plastic chairs. He dropped his head into his hands. “He’d said to me afterward…after it came out that you’d have lasting damage and your singing might not…that your career was likely over.” Eliot cleared his throat. “Alex said it was…it was convenient the attack wouldn’t affect your ability to play the violin. I’d thought the comment odd but wrote it off as being something Alex would say. He wasn’t the most socially acceptable man, which is why I kept our relationship a secret.”
“Did he admit to throwing the star?”
Eliot nodded. “Yes, today. When I talked to him at the police station, I lied to him. Told him I’d get him out of this mess if he told me everything, so he did. I didn’t know anything before this, Blaine. I swear it.”
Her stomach churned. She covered her mouth as bile burned her throat. “Alex has been with me for months.”
“He said he saw no reason to intervene again until he uncovered another obstacle preventing you from agreeing to the tour.”
“Jack.” She whispered his name.
“Your focus should be on your violin, not a man.” Eliot raised a hand. “Alex’s words, not mine.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Eliot William Sutherland.” Her mother’s voice boomed in the small waiting room. “I’ll be sure to tell your mother the truth when she demands you to be written out of her will. Maybe she’ll have pity on you.”
Eliot pinched his nose. “If loving the wrong person makes me guilty, then I deserve whatever my mother deems my fate.”
Blaine went to where her mother stood next to a doctor. “If the police let Eliot go, then they don’t think he was involved with Alex’s plans. We can’t fault him for them.”
Blaine’s mother wrinkled her nose in annoyance, then glared at Eliot. “I’ve called your mother. She’s on her way.”
Eliot inclined his head and slumped in his chair.
The doctor spoke up. “If you’re finished, Mr. Sander is asking for you. I can’t promise how long he’ll be conscious, but if you’d—”
“Take me to him, please.” Blaine grabbed the doctor’s hand.
He led them down a series of corridors to a quiet section of the hospital where the beeping of monitors offered the only background noise. The doctor opened the door to one of the rooms.
A sheet covered Jack’s body. Bags of clear liquid dripped into an IV line. The monitors around him recorded vitals. Blaine glanced from the steady, stable readings to Jack’s face. His eyes were closed.
She rushed forward and gently took his hand. “Is he going to be okay?”
“With time and physical therapy, he should make a complete recovery.”
“Thank God.” Blaine pressed her forehead to Jack’s stomach.
“We’ll give you some privacy, darling. I’ll be back soon.”
Blaine heard her mother’s w
ords and the softly closing door, but she couldn’t lift her head to respond. Despite the doctor’s prediction that Jack would be fine, she couldn’t stop the tears. Jack had gotten hurt because he’d shielded her with his body. He was her own personal hero.
The soft stroking of fingers along her head jerked her head up. Jack’s half-lidded eyes met hers. “Hey, angel.”
“Jack.” Blaine leaned over the bed and pressed kisses to his face. “You’re going to be okay. The doctor said so.”
“That’s good to know.” His slurred voice sounded sleepy, groggy.
“You should rest, but don’t worry, I’m not leaving your side. I’ve got you, Jack.”
“Is it safe for you…to be here?”
Of course he’d think of her first. She brushed her cheek against his beard. “Yes. Alex is in police custody. He admitted to everything, even the attack on me. He threw the star so I wouldn’t be able to sing anymore, so I’d join Eliot’s orchestra. Eliot didn’t know anything about it. I believe him, Jack. This was all on Alex.”
“Eliot did say Alex was the best assistant he ever had. Always got things done.”
She snorted. “Attacking me was a little extreme.”
“It worked. You’re not singing anymore. At least not for a while.”
“True.” Blaine rested her head on Jack’s pillow. “But I still don’t know if I want to play in Eliot’s tour.”
“We’ll decide later. Okay?”
“We?” She grinned. “Do you get a say in this now?”
“Yep.” Jack’s eyes closed. “We’re a we now. We decide things together.”
“Can we agree on waiting on a formal wedding and only doing what’s legally necessary now?”
“Sure. We will.”
His breathing deepened as he drifted off to sleep. Blaine stared into Jack’s face for a long time, then smiled. She liked the sound of “we” much better than “me.”