Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4) (34 page)

“I’ll take care of that,” Maldonado offered.

“Fine. Make them disappear. For good. I don’t want anything linking me to this mess.”

“My pleasure.”

Exxum walked out, taking his men with him. Maldonado, the one they called Nico, and a handful of what Elle presumed were Maldonado’s men remained.

Jack could hardly stand, and he was so damn white, his side oozing blood, yet he took a step forward, trying to keep her behind him.

Elle was desperate for a plan, but she was coming up empty. She had no weapons, Jack could barely move, and there were a dozen armed men in the room. Whatever James and his brothers were doing, they were not going to make it on time.

“Let her go. There are people who care about her. They will not stop if you kill her. Everyone shooting at you now is here for her. Not for me.”

“I don’t plan on killing her just yet. You, I’m afraid, have run out of time.” Maldonado grabbed Elle by the hair and pulled her away from Jack. “I want you to die knowing you couldn’t save her. On your knees,” he ordered.

When he didn’t obey, Nico punched him in the stomach and Jack fell on his knees, doubling over from the pain and spitting more blood.

“Jack,” Elle yelled, attempting to wrench away but failing.

Maldonado smiled. “You know how the saying goes: you live by the sword…”

Maldonado nodded at Nico, who pointed the gun at Jack’s head and said, “You die by the Russian.”

“No!” Elle screamed.

Nico didn’t waver, his face scarily blank. He pressed the barrel to Jack’s forehead, cocked the gun, and then, suddenly, he turned, shooting Maldonado in the face, his brains splattering all over Elle.

Before she could react, Nico had killed two more of Maldonado’s security detail.

Maldonado’s lifeless body fell on the floor, his limp hand letting go of Elle’s hair. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to Jack.

“Your cover was impressive” Nico said. “Not even my handler knew who Alex Ayala really was. You should have refrained from godparenting though. It just took a phone call to the diocese to access the church records and find out Jack Copeland was registered as Jonah Bowen’s godfather.

“Exxum is making his escape through the water while his men hold the attack off,” Nico finished, lowering his gun. “You are free to go. If you can make it through their fire, you live.”

“Why?” Jack choked out.

“I’m to take over Maldonado’s organization by any means necessary, but I’m not into the habit of killing innocent people if I can spare them.”

Elle looked into the Russian’s ice-cold eyes. Still. Impenetrable. “And Donald?”

“Not dead.” Then Nico signaled to the other men and started leaving. Before crossing the door, he turned to Elle, “Your man is dying. Tick tock, lady.”

That snapped her out of it.

She hauled him up but he crumpled to the floor. “Jack!”

“Go,” he let out, choking on blood, his chest spasming, his eyes glassy. His face clammy and so damn white.

“In your dreams. On your feet, soldier,” she yelled, lifting him back up, but they didn’t get too far before his legs gave way.

“I said go. You can’t carry me.”

“Watch me,” she bit out. She wasn’t losing him. She was getting him help, now.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, she began dragging him, the blood oozing from him leaving a bright trail on the otherwise pristine white marble tile. She needed to get outside to the Bowens. Away from danger.

She made it to the front door. Bullets were flying everywhere and she couldn’t feel her arms. She tripped over a body on the floor, slipping on the blood pooling around it, and fell down. She got up and tried pulling Jack, but she couldn’t.

Defeated, she started crying. “Don’t die,” she pleaded between sobs, her hands on his chest, attempting to stop the bleeding.

“Elle, listen. Sorry I wa—”

“Shh,” she interrupted him. “Save your strength. You’ll tell me later.”

He was choking, barely able to talk. A wheezing sound coming with every word. “Love you, pet.”

“No, no, no,” she repeated, tears blurring her sight. “Don’t dare die. Don’t you dare leave me,” she ordered, jerking him, but he didn’t react.

She started administering CPR, yelling at him, “Breathe, dammit. Breathe. Don’t you leave me.” He wasn’t responding, wasn’t breathing, his eyes glassy and empty while she continued pumping his heart.

She could barely make out what she was doing over her tears but somehow saw James running toward her. Max and Cole too. Sirens were flashing. They were talking, their mouths moving, but she couldn’t hear a word, much less understand what they were saying. Screams were echoing in her head, so loud. Gut-wrenching, soul-ripping screams. Her screams.

Chapter Twenty-One

Four weeks later

Jack sat in his truck. In front of Rosita’s. Again.

Jesus Christ. Two days out of the hospital and he’d spent the majority of his time here, hoping to steal a glance at her.

He’d been told he’d missed a huge mess and that they’d avoided jail by a hair. As a matter of fact, he’d been under arrest and twenty-four-hour surveillance the whole month he’d been in intensive care, a couple of uniforms at his door day and night. Where the fuck they thought he was going to run when he was totally out of it, he had no clue.

Ultimately, it had been thanks to Elle’s testimony, the incriminating evidence that was found in the house, and Jack’s contacts that they had been saved from doing time. Charges had been dropped and brought against Exxum. Not that it looked like they were going to stick. Not even after finding several of his containers full to the brim with dope, presumably from Maldonado, and others running guns.

Rich people got away with a lot of shit.

The scumbag even managed to get an airtight alibi for the night Jack and the Bowens had stormed his property. He’d been in Boston and had no idea what was going on at Pricklewood. He had witnesses too.

They told Jack that Elle had been adamant about getting in to see him at the hospital. She hadn’t cared about the rules, or the police. There had been no way to keep her out. Or so they’d told him.

She’d stayed with him every day while he was in critical condition. Then, the second his status had been updated from dying to conscious piece of shit in a boatload of pain, Elle had disappeared. Which sucked ass, because she was the only person he would have wanted to talk to, yet he was stuck being debriefed and questioned by the feds and several other government agencies, with Ronnie and the Bowens fussing over him. All of them carefully tiptoeing around mentioning Elle. After a couple of days, he’d stopped asking where she was and demanded his laptop. He knew how to contact her.

It hadn’t worked.

Elle knew where he lived, where his bar was. Heck, he’d been all but chained to a hospital bed for weeks, staring at the fucking ceiling, yet she hadn’t come to him or answered a single one of the many e-mails he’d sent her. He’d created profiles on all the major social media sites and messaged her. Nada. A monumental fuck-off if he ever got one, not that he could let that stand. If she wanted to dump him, she would have to tell him straight to his face.

He still had the keys to her place and he had no qualms about a little home invasion, but at this time of night she was at the restaurant, and waiting until her shift ended wasn’t an option.

He glanced at Rosita’s windows.

There she was. Elle. His pet.

She was so beautiful. She’d cut her hair short, which made her even more beautiful if that were possible, her features on display without the mane of hair taking any attention from them. So starkly gorgeous in her simplicity. Just a black pencil skirt and a white blouse. No heavy makeup, just some lip gloss on her luscious mouth.

Jack missed her so fucking badly. Her sweet smiles and her sarcastic comebacks. The way she always found an opening to touch him. How she soothed him with just a glance. He missed everything. Every-fucking-thing.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. He couldn’t live without her. Time to man up and bite the bullet.

As luck would have it, Rosita’s was full, and not only with patrons. All the Bowens were there, kiddies included. Whatever. That wouldn’t derail him. Nothing would derail him.

Elle was at the back and didn’t see him coming in. James and Max did, and they walked to him.

“You sure you want to do this here?” James asked.

Sure? Not in the least. Nevertheless, he nodded curtly. He didn’t have any other option; he wasn’t leaving without talking to her.

Tate hurried to him and hugged him. “Go to her,” she whispered. “Before she sees you and bolts.”

Right. Very reassuring.

ELLE WAS TAKING Mrs. Copernicus’s order when she noticed the old lady was looking behind her, waving and smiling. Elle turned and froze.

Oh God. Jack was in front of her. The need to envelop him in her arms and kiss him was so strong, she had to fist her hands and lock her legs to stop herself from jumping at him.

“I need to talk to you, pet,” Jack said, his voice husky.

She glanced around. “I’m working.”

Jack didn’t move a muscle. “I’ll wait as long as I have to. Or talk in front of them. Don’t care.”

The patrons didn’t seem to mind either. Mrs. Copernicus, as a matter of fact, had turned around and was snacking on the bread sticks as if she were watching a movie.

“Go. I’m taking over,” Tate told her, realizing they were going to need privacy.

Jack and Elle stepped to the side.

He looked good; a bit skinnier and paler than his normal self, but she guessed that was what a hole in your insides and four weeks in a hospital did to you.

“You okay?” she whispered.

Jack nodded. “I was released the day before yesterday.”

“I know.” She’d been fighting herself not to go to him.

“You didn’t come to visit. Didn’t answer my e-mails,” he said, his tone dripping with bitterness.

She latched on to the last part. The first part she didn’t even want to delve into. “What e-mails? I haven’t been checking them.” She’d been trying to wean herself off the Internet, so she’d kept away from her laptop. “Have you been writing me?”

He nodded, yet he remained silent.

She was dying to ask about that, but she stopped herself. “I’ve reduced my cyberactivities.”

“So I heard,” he answered. “I’ve decided to reduce my activities too.”

That caught her by surprise. “Really? Because you didn’t have many to begin with.”

“The life-threatening ones.”

“Your schedule is wide open, then.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Her attempt at joking had backfired and the following silence was so heavy she couldn’t breathe. “Was there something you wanted?”

He drew a deep breath and locked eyes with her. “I fucked up when I walked out on you. You were right. I was being a coward. I’m here to correct my mistake.”

“I appreciate you saving me, but you might have been right; we aren’t a good fit. You’d better go.”

“Not going anywhere. I know I fucked up, but you’re going to forgive me and I’m going to stay here until you do. And afterward I’m not going anywhere either.”

There it was, the obey-me-or-else Jack she knew. It figured being near death hadn’t mellowed him. She crossed her arms over her chest, her chin up defiantly. “Really? And why is that?”

“Because you’re the one.”

“Not the one. You were very clear about that. I offered you my heart and you stomped all over it. I’m the same person you rejected. I haven’t changed. Well, I have; you taught me something very important, that it doesn’t pay to love someone. You let them in, they break your heart.”

Before she could react or fully comprehend what was happening, Jack enveloped her in his arms and took her mouth.

God, he felt so good, and she’d missed him so much. Elle fought the overwhelming need to give in to the kiss.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said the second she managed to break away. “We are in the middle of an argument. What are you doing?”

“Continue to be mad, pet. I’m kissing you.”

“Why? To shut me up?”

“No. You said you loved me. I couldn’t stop myself. I need you. I need to be as deep inside you as I can. As close to you as humanly possible. I guess fucking you now is out of the question.”

She blinked, her stomach dropping, and tried to backtrack. “I didn’t say I love you.” Her tone wasn’t too convincing, she knew, but she found it difficult to lie to him. And she loved him, so much. Her heart had broken when she’d left the hospital, but telling him that wouldn’t heal her wounds. It would make her more vulnerable than she already was. And she’d never made herself as vulnerable as with Jack. Ever.

“Yes you did, pet. And you can’t take it back. I won’t let you, because I love you too.”

“You do?” she asked, her eyes welling, her voice breaking.

He nodded and spoke against her lips. “I’ve been in love with you since the very first moment I laid eyes on you. Just too fucking stubborn to admit it to myself. I was pretty out of it, but I recall telling it to you then, before you know…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t have to.

“You were dying. I thought you were delirious.” Heck, she’d been delirious too.

He cupped her face. Brushed her lips with his thumb. “I was not going to die without telling you.”

Tears rolling down, she hugged him, so damn hard her arms hurt. “I love you too, Borg.”

She felt the tremors going through his body at her words.

“Why did you leave me at the hospital?” he whispered against her lips.

“You’d made it clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“At Exxum’s, I told you I’d go to hell and back for you.”

Elle shrugged, uneasy. “I figured that’s what all the heroic types do for everyone.”

Jack let out a soft snort. “No, pet, they don’t do that for everyone. Nor get a hole in their stomachs.”

“You talking about the ulcer I allegedly gave you, or the bullet?”

Jack barked out a laugh, tightening his embrace. “Both.” She caressed his scratchy beard and spoke with a barely-there voice. He deserved the truth. “I left the hospital because I didn’t want to be pushy.”