Hell on the Heart (32 page)

Little did he know, John and Dare had been receiving reports from farmers and locals all morning. They had known exactly what time he’d arrive.

“It looks good.” Even from his height, John could see her sway against Cain. One hand stroked his neck and poked at the vest. “I brought one for you, but it looked better on him.” Cain laughed and gestured toward Rolf.

Cezi half-turned to look at her cousin as she wrapped her hand around his - the one holding the switch. Good girl. It was the move John had anticipated. He sprung. He’d barely left the branch when he realized Rolf waited for the same sign. Despite the bulk of the dynamite vest, Rolf launched himself from the bench.

But before John’s feet touched the ground his entire world lit up. Being tasered was an experience no one forgot and regrettably this was his third time.

The arm he wrapped around Cain’s neck didn’t release as the voltage shot through both of them not even when Rolf tackled low and hard. The combination of the electricity, the hit and the impact of the bodies meant no one controlled the dead man’s switch. The worst thing was he wouldn’t get to Cezi in time to save her.

Her intention was to taser Cain, but with everyone including herself touching, she zapped the entire group at once. The hit didn’t matter. The pain didn’t matter. What mattered was the switch.

As everyone sank to the ground in slow motion, she hung on, forcing Cain to keep his fingers in place. A long scream echoed in her head. It took her a moment to realize she was the one screaming. And when everyone stopped moving one of her arms was pinned under the dog pile with her fingers wrapped securely over the switch.

Arms surrounded her, holding her steady, as a male hand slid into the pile until he covered her hand with his. “I’ve got it. You can let go now,” Dare spoke softly into her ear.

One finger at a time slowly pried itself off the device, and finally she slid her hand out of the small opening, collapsed on the hard ground and rolled into a bundle.

Nicholae was there, tugging her to him. “What were you thinking?” But he was clutching her so tightly to his chest, she couldn’t answer.

Tears filled her father’s eyes. “If anything happened to you….” His voice trailed off, unable to even say the words.

“I love you.” She said as she buried her head in his shoulder. Her father croaked out his love for her in garbled phrases.

Where was John? Or Rolf? She’d seen them hurling toward her, but by then she’d already had the taser out of her pocket and was honing into Cain’s side. His gun fired once more as the current connected. Had someone been shot? She pulled her head out of her father’s chest and protested when he tried to put it back, but gave him a kiss of reassurance and jumped to her feet to survey the scene.

Cain slumped on the ground with his hands behind his back secured by plastic zip ties, gasping for air. Nobody cared about him. The dynamite vest lay some twenty feet away, ten feet in the other direction was his gun, whether it’d been kicked away by others or thrown by Cain at the impact she didn’t know.

Her family surrounded two prone bodies. Were they dead? She’d expected John to leap out of the tree, but she’d read the pain in Rolf’s face and assumed he was too hurt to move. She should have known better. Just as she would come to rescue him, he had always been there for her.

She pushed and shoved family out of the way in her panic to get to the men. Luca and Andrej cradled Rolf between them and were attempting to stanch the flow of blood from his side. She knelt beside John on the hard earth. “Are you okay?”

Those bottomless black eyes blinked open and stared at her. He was alive. His brow knit forming a frown on his perfect features. “Where the hell did you get a taser?”

“Is that the same thing as ‘thank you for saving my life?’”

John groaned and attempted to sit up. She put an arm around his shoulder to support him. “Saved it? That stupid stunt of yours destroyed my next fifty years. I probably have white hair.”

Dare’s shout was loud enough to be heard above the crowd. “Take a look at this. Shit, he could’ve blown up the whole place.” Her family parted and drifted toward the van as Dare stepped away to make room for all to see. “This switch isn’t connected to anything. It was all a bluff, but there’s enough C4 in here to blow a serious hole in the earth.

Sirens sounded in the distance. “You called the sheriff’s office?” Cezi asked as John struggled to his feet.

“Ambulance.” He hooked his arm around her and tucked her protectively into his side. “As a precaution. So lover boy here was a fraud.”

Cezi laughed and looked down at Cain who’d managed to shift to his side and lift his upper body off the ground. Anger distorted his pretty features. His true appearance testified to everyone’s belief he was crazy. 

“You bitch.” He rolled. His hands poked out from one side of his body and they weren’t empty. A 38 automatic was pointed directly at Cezi and at this distance it’d be hard to miss.

The gun fired. John shoved Cezi at the same time she pushed him, but neither avoided fate. The force of the projectile entering her body rocketed her backward. Her body hit the ground with a force that should have hurt, but didn’t. Other shots rang out. Her eyes drifted shut as she thought her last thought.

So this is death…

Everyone dived for safety although there wasn’t much shelter to be found. The deserted park setting had been an ideal location when they worried about explosives, now it offered little protection from Cain’s wild gunfire.

Two. Instinctively John counted each shot while pulling his glock free of his shoulder holster. Unarmed gypsies scrambled into and behind the van. Cezi, being clever, had taken refuge behind him. Three.

The third bullet grazed his leg. The sting was minimal. He’d feel the pain later. Now he took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The first shot caught Cain’s shoulder. Yet, the downed man managed to get off another round. Four.

John had wanted him alive, but that time had passed. His next bullet was to the head. The gun tumbled from Cain’s hand as his body crumpled. Half his face was missing, blood pooled on the thick grass before disappearing into the earth.

Who had cuffed Cain without patting him down? If his team had been here this never would have happened. He stepped over the body and kicked the gun away.

Czigany. Her name danced on the wind. He raised his head and met the frozen stare of a dozen gypsy men.

Shit.

Whirling around, he saw her lifeless sprawled body in a heap on the ground. An artery spurted bright red blood out of her neck like a West Texas oil gusher.

His legs couldn’t move fast enough. He rushed to her side, dropped to his knees and applied pressure to the wound.

His hands reddened as blood bubbled up between his now slippery fingers. He choked back the bitter bile that threatened to erupt from his stomach.

The crisp scent of newly mowed grass, the tang of the blood and peppery overlay of gunpowder smelled like death. No one lost this much blood and survived.

 Dare was at his side. His lips moved, but John had gone deaf unable to hear anything but the gurgle in her throat. Her father appeared at her head. How long he’d been there John had no clue, but a quick glance at Nicholae’s stricken, colorless face assured him it was worse to be helpless.

Unable to keep from touching her, Nicholae pushed the blood-soaked strands of hair out of her face. John fought the harsh sting of tears and gasped for air, hoping to pull in strength, as well.

“Do not cry.” Nicholae rose to his knees, grabbed John’s shoulder, his voice a broken whisper, “Tears will sear her heart.”

“Paramedics are here,” Dare said. “Ease up. Let them in.”

But John couldn’t let go. He couldn’t release her. For once the spider had to save someone he loved. “Czigany.” Her name tore from his lips.

A young man knelt beside him and began to elbow him out of the way. “Back up, sir. Let me help her.”

Nicholae clasped his arm, tugged at him and forced him to rise. In a scene that would have embarrassed John with any other man, Nicholae wrapped his arms around him and hugged him to his body while he whispered in his ear. “She needs you to be brave. You must not let the spirit world know they can win.”

Tubes, needles and an oxygen tent distorted Czigany’s face. After ten hours of surgery, the doctors remained cautiously hopeful. Her second day of ICU, she had yet to waken, but green lights flickered and pulsed with regularity on each of the monitors that made up the backdrop of the room.

Even though it was early morning, John paced the waiting area, limping slightly from the wound to his thigh. Every medical personnel who passed his way, from the doctors to even the janitors, urged him to take the weight off his leg. For about a minute and a half he’d sit with his leg propped up like a dutiful patient. But before he was aware of rising from the couch, he once again paced. For a man known for calmness and the ability to lie low when needed, this new need for movement agitated him. If they’d let him rest at her side, hold her hand, he’d calm down.

Ten minutes every two hours, shared with her extensive family wasn’t nearly enough time. So, like a poor shirttail relative, he stood with his nose pressed against the glass and longed to be on the other side.

Catnapping took the place of sleep. He refused to leave and never strayed further than a few feet from her door. Rolf was in the same hospital two-floors down. Her family trooped back and forth between the rooms. Sometimes, like now, he waited alone.

When he opened his eyes, a pretty dark-haired woman, slightly older than himself, sat next to him with knitting needles and a twisted lump of mottled gray yarn in her hand.

“Good. You’re awake.” She thrust a plastic butter tub in his direction. “Our healer, Vadoma send this. Herbal pull… poul…tice to reduce scaring on your leg.”

He lifted the lid and sniffed. The familiar sweet scent of parsley with an acidic overlay of something he couldn’t identify assaulted his nose. It didn’t smell like anything he wanted to put anywhere on his body.

“Thank you.” He closed the container and put it on the floor by his feet.

“If you want, I apply… for you.” A deep blush colored the woman’s cheeks with her dark eyelashes casting half-moon shadows from the overhead florescent lighting, making her younger than he’d originally thought.

She patted his hand as though sensing his discomfort. “True, but my twins really resemble my side of
familya
.” Unlike her husband, Jaelle had a strong Eastern European accent.

“Sons make man strong. Daughters make him human.” She lowered her head to stare at the yarn in her lap and frowned. “They said we couldn’t bring our cards, but I can’t sit here idle. I’ve never done this before. Can you tell?”

“Released today, but of course, we won’t go home until Cezi can also.” She twisted the yarn into a ball and stuck the needles in it.

“How is Vadoma handling having two of her own in the hospital?”

For the first time Jaelle’s expression lost the soft, pleasant look. Her lips firmed and her chin notched up an inch. “Times are changing. Whether she likes or not, we must change with them. I have not thanked you for helping my son.”