Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(73)

“Dad! Jesus Christ! Ellie!”

“Don’t f*cking move,” Jessica snaps.

I see a look of utter desperation on Jack’s face. He freezes in place. Blood sluices between his fingers. Jessica holds the gun in her hand, hammer back, ready to touch the trigger and set it off. She has it pointed right at his head.

“Fuck, this ruins everything,” she sighs. “On to Plan B. Neither of you move. Ellie, you take one step and I’ll blow Jack’s brains out, understood? Not one f*cking move.”

Gingerly she edges to the door, stepping over Richard’s shaking feet.

“Fucking whore,” Richard grunts.

“You should talk,” Jessica snaps. “Bye bye, kids.”

She swings the door shut.

Jack bolts for it, but the time he hits it, it doesn’t budge.

“She’s got something wedged under the doorknob.”

I’m already moving. I grab the first-aid kit out of the bathroom and run, painfully dropping to my knees beside Richard. I yank it open and find some gauze and tape. The bullet went into his side. I don’t see where it would have come out, it must still be in him. It went in low, under his ribs.

“Gonna be shitting in a bag,” he wheezes.

“Dad—”

“Help me, Jack. We need to cover the wound and put pressure on it. Wrap something around him.”

“Tie,” Richard wheezes.

I look at Jack, and he looks at me. He rips off Richard’s tie and uses it to strap down the bandage I apply to his side.

“We need to get him to the hospital or he’s going to die.”

“He’s not going to die,” I say calmly.

I move to the door.

When I touch it the handle is hot. I step back.

It smells like winter in the city. Like burning logs. Like fire.

Smoke flows under the door, little wisps at first, then more and more.

“Fuck!” Jack roars, “she lit the goddamn house on fire!”

“Jack,” Richard, rasps, “Jack, leave me.”

“What?”

“Leave me behind. Get the girl out.”

“No,” I say sharply. “Jack, we need to get this door open. Stay low.”

“Yeah, stay low. Get back, I’m going to open it.”

Jack paces halfway across the room and hurls himself into the door. He hits it so hard I wince, fearing he’s done more damage to himself. The door doesn’t show any damage but whatever is holding it closed cracks and folds with an audible wooden whine. Another blow and it flies open, and smoke surges into the room, sliding along the ceiling. The flickering light from the flames throws long shadows across the room.

“I’ll get his legs,” Jack says without missing a beat.

I can’t help him. Damn my burned hand to hell. I wrap my arms around Richard and drag him out of the room, trying to crouch as I do. He’s heavy, and it’s getting hot. I take a breath and it’s like swallowing embers. I hack and cough.

“Leave me,” Richard rasps.

“No,” I say before Jack can.

I’m not making him go through that, too.

Beneath us, there’s a bang, then another.

“Come on, time to go.”

“I’m getting up,” Richard groans, and rolls onto his side.

Somehow he gets to his hands and knees. Jack slips under his arm and I do the same on the other side. It’s not far, just down the stairs. I almost fall, my feet trying to go out from under me with Richard’s weight on my shoulder. Smoke rolls up the ceiling over our heads, growing thicker by the moment. She lit the kitchen on fire. Another bang.

At first I think it’s part of the house collapsing, but it’s a gunshot. As we make it down to the bottom of the stairs, Jack cries out. Richard’s big bodyguard slumps to the floor.

Jessica shot him in the stomach. Flopped out on the ground, he looks dead. He’s not breathing.

Behind us, the kitchen is ablaze. She must have lit some cooking oil or something on fire. In front of us, Jessica stands blocking the door, jerking the gun back and forth to keep us covered.

“Drop him.”

“Do it,” Richard wheezes.

Jack crouches and we lower him to the floor.

Jessica extends her arm. “One for each of you.”

I throw myself at her. The gun goes off. The world becomes a high-pitched whine, shrieking in my ears. I’d be blind in my left eye if I could see out of it. She fired the gun right next to my head. The bullet hit the ceiling above. I have her wrist, spin her around, but she has two hands and I have one. She shoves her other hand in my face and pushes me off. As she tries to swing the gun around to shoot me in the face, Jack grabs her and we all three go tumbling to the floor.

Then with a groan, the house starts to come down. Flames lick along the timbers of the second floor and one of them, dry as fresh kindling, cracks and splits in the middle, and falls. Jessica shoves me aside and runs for the door. Jack pulls me back just in time as the falling beam hits her legs and slams her to the ground with the force of a giant’s fist.

“Help me!” she shrieks.

Jack looks at me like I’m crazy as I try to dig her out. I grab the beam and pull with all my strength but it won’t move. Jack joins in without a word and pulls. It shifts and Jessica wrenches free. Her leg is badly broken, fractured in more than one place.