Page 73 of Dirty Gambit

It all happened too fast, much too fast for anyone to react. Jaxon watched the entire thing unfold as if he’d been torn from his body and forced to witness the most tragic moment of his life in slow motion.

The gun in Travis’s hand jerked up, a blur of steel and pain, and locked on Jaxon’s chest. The barrel seemed to blossom into a gaping tunnel, a bottomless well Jaxon couldn’t look away from. It threatened to consume him if he so much as exhaled the air locked in his lungs.

From a distance, he had a vague recollection of someone screaming his name. The clock in the hallway clicked on the minute. The sound echoed through the chambers of his skull with a clarity that should have been impossible. Then it happened.

Travis fired.

A plume of black smoke and red sparks exploded from the barrel. The crack was an endless sound bouncing off the walls. Jaxon waited to feel the bit of metal bite into flesh, to feel it rip into him. He’d been braced for it when a figure launched itself directly in the bullet’s path.

The bullet struck.

A crimson spray erupted.

The figure staggered.

A painful hush immediately followed.

No one moved.

Jaxon barely breathed as his senses roared back into focus along with the rest of the world. His mind fought to register what was happening, to make sense of the impossible. The stench of gunpowder permeated the air, an unmistakable stink laced in the coppery fragrance spilling down the white surface of Lena’s dress in a crimson blossom.

“Lena…?” His stiff lips could barely formulate around her name.

The gun slipped from his numb fingers. It hit the top of his sneakers before clattering somewhere. Nothing registered except the expanding river of blood soaking fabric and raining down her legs. She made a weak sound of surprise before her knees buckled.

Jaxon lunged for her. His arms closed around her before she could hit the ground. The collision of her weight collapsed the structure of his numb knees, and he went down with her. It was sheer reflex that guided him the rest of the way, using his own body as a cushion to protect hers upon impact. He cradled her against his chest, ignoring the hot burn soaking into his top, pasting the fabric to his skin with her blood.

“Lena?” His hands trembled brushing back strands of hair from her still face. “Lena!”

There was a scuffle somewhere in the room. Another bang erupted in the far distance. Something heavy crashed somewhere on his right, but he didn’t take his eyes off the unmoving figure in his arms.

He gingerly eased her down on the ruined carpet, brain buzzing even while he fought to remain calm. The urge to collapse entirely brimmed on the edges of his subconscious, but he knew he had a small window before he lost Lena forever.

“Lena, open your eyes,” he ordered, relieved when his voice didn’t shake. Never taking his eyes off her, he snatched up one of the pillows off the sofa and tore out the insert. The case was bunched between his blood-stained hands and stuffed against the bubbling gash in Lena’s shoulder. With his free hand, he prodded two fingers against the pulse at her throat, holding his own breath while he counted the beats. The fact that she had a pulse eased some of the iron hold around his chest. Swallowing, he put both hands over her wound. “Open your eyes, come on.”

The fabric was drenched within seconds, spilling hot liquid over Jaxon’s fingers, but he held firm, refusing to ease the pressure.

“Jaxon!” Frankie’s face appeared in front of him, the HK45 Jaxon had dropped gripped in her hand. “Is there an exit wound?” He helped her ease Lena onto her side to peer at her back. “Good. It went through. Lena?” A second pillow insert was torn from its case and pitched aside. “Sweetheart, can you open your eyes for me?” The case was balled up and shoved under her. “Get her to wake up. I’m going to call for help.”

Frankie scrambling away from him, leaving him to watch the color leech from Lena’s face with every ounce of life that pooled beneath her. Frankie had taught him everything there was to know about survival, every worst-case scenario he might ever encounter in his life, but she had not prepared him to watch as someone he cared about bled out beneath his hands. She hadn’t prepared him for the helplessness, the crippling terror. Outside, no one could have guessed he was in jagged pieces inside. No one could have guessed his mental stability was disintegrating around him. His very breath felt hot and thick. He couldn’t think past the roaring thunder of his heart drumming between his ears. Lena’s silhouette kept fading in and out of focus behind the tears he couldn’t control. But he held on. He knew he had to. It wasn’t over until … no, he wouldn’t think of that. She would be fine. She would wake up. She had to.

“Come on, baby, open your eyes.”

Maybe it was the growl in his voice or the desperation, but Lena stirred. She gave a soft gasp and her eyes opened. The pupils were enormous, gaping voids consuming the brown, but they were open.

“Hey!” he breathed around a sigh and a chuckle. “It’s okay. You’re okay. But stay awake for me, okay? You have to stay awake.”

She gave a grunt he felt rumble under his hand. “Travis…”

“Don’t worry about him.”

All the evidence pointed to Frankie grabbing Jaxon’s fallen gun and killing Travis. It was the only explanation his foggy brain had why they weren’t all dead and Travis hadn’t said a word. He could have probably checked, but he wasn’t ready to take his eyes off Lena.

She gritted her jaw, white lips curled back over clenched teeth. “Everyone okay?”

Jaxon nodded. “Everyone’s fine.”

Her chest expanded against his hand as far as it would go before it hitched in pain and she groaned. Her lashes closed just long enough to make him think she’d passed out again when they swept open again.

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