Unbearable (28 page)

Chapter 34

Tess

“But . . . you’re dead.”

Completely stunned, I didn’t stand. I didn’t scream. Instead, I lay in the middle of the mat with my mouth open, looking up at Garen.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he sneered. “Don’t know who you get your info from, but obviously they’re about as brilliant as you.”

I swallowed hard when I saw the small handgun he held. “You hate guns,” I whispered.

“Yup, but sometimes a gun can do what a fist can’t. You seem to need more than just a beating to die.” He scratched at the straggly beard on his face. His greasy hair lay flat against his head. His clothes were wrinkled and filthy. He appeared as if he’d been living on the streets, so unlike the polished perfectionist I’d lived with for eighteen months.

“You’re like that Energizer bunny.
You keep going and going, Terese. Punishment after punishment, you keep right on living.” His teeth clenched. “Well, not anymore.”

I found the strength to stand. Not sure if it was fear or anger that permeated my soul, but it revitalized me. “I was told you got into a fight with a store clerk and he shot you.” My hands hung fisted at my side.

“Other way around. In fact, that’s where the gun came from.” He looked down at the small gun, turning his wrist to get a better look.

Gun
. I needed to get to my purse.

“Where’s your boyfriend, whore?”

“We broke up,” I lied.

He barked a laugh. “He got sick of the mannequin, too?”

“He’s never called me that. In fact, I’m quite the opposite with him.” My boldness took me by surprise. It enraged Garen. He charged me, his arm cocked, gun in hand, ready to punch. I cringed and turned away, circling my head with my arms.

“Drop it or I’ll gladly put a hole in you.”

Booker! I couldn’t see him behind Garen, but I knew his voice, despite the fact that I’d never heard him use that menacing tone before.

“I said drop it or I’ll kill you, roach. Your choice,” Booker demanded.

Garen straightened and raised the gun in the air slowly. “You got me.”

Right
. I didn’t buy his statement and I hoped Booker didn’t either.

“Turn around slowly and drop the gun. Oh,” he added, “and put
both
your arms up.”

“Sure thing.” Garen raised his left arm halfway, and in one fluid movement, scooped it around me and dragged me in front of him. He smelled strongly of sweat and greasy hair. I turned my face to the side to keep from gagging.

With his face safely behind my head, Garen laughed. “Look. Rambo’s come to save you.”

Booker had a gun in his hand and another larger gun strapped over his jacket, resting against his chest.

With the cold steel of Garen’s gun pressed against my temple, and his other arm around my waist he said, “Looks like I’m in control now.”

“Let her go.” Booker’s eyes burned bright with anger. “You’ve already killed one person today. If you let her go, maybe I can convince the DA to lower the charges to accidental manslaughter.”

“Yeah, right. Accidental manslaughter will never fly.” He tightened the arm around my waist. The gun never moved from my temple.

“I’m an ex-MET agent. My word carries a lot of weight.” Booker stepped toward us. Garen pulled back the hammer of his gun. Booker’s hands went up in the air and he removed his finger from the trigger. Garen slowly released the hammer. I heard each and every tick as he did.

“Let her go. You’ve tormented her enough,” Booker demanded. “She’s done nothing to deserve this.”

“Nothing?” I could feel the anger in Garen as his breath quickened and the gun pressed deeper into my temple.

“She messed with my plan. I had everything mapped out for my life. Everything. Graduate Summa Cum Laude from high school. Check. Get a full ride scholarship to Harvard. Check. After college;
uncheck
,” he hissed. “You see, the Life Plan called for me to get an internship with a DC politician to start my journey to the White House. Only this alleged trophy wife here,” he tapped the gun on my head, “screwed it all up with that stupid picture.”

“Picture? What picture?” I asked, utterly confused.

“Think, whore.” He tightened his arm around my ribs and I winced. “Remember that picture you sent me in your swimsuit on the beach? Well, I caught my pervert roommate with it. We got into a huge fight. The school filed a report that went on my permanent record.”

“That kept you from getting a job with a politician? Seems to me that would help your resume with the lowlifes in DC.” Booker started to laugh, then stopped. “Wait. Just how badly did you beat this guy?”

“Enough to teach him a lesson. Anyway, with the incident on my record, I had a hard time finding a job with a decent politician. That’s why I ended up having to work with Graft.” Garen thumped the gun against my head. “All because of her.”

“I see. Is that where your pattern of abuse started, then?” Booker asked flippantly.

“Put your guns down and slide them my way or I’ll put a bullet through that smart mouth of yours,” Garen demanded in a tone I knew all too well.

“Do it, Book,” I pleaded. “He’ll kill you.”

Booker’s jaw twitched twice before he slowly lowered his guns to the ground and straightened. He gave each gun a weak shove with his foot. They slid a few feet, stopping short of where Garen and I stood.

Enraged, Garen shoved me to the ground and
squeezed off three rapid shots, hitting Booker once in the leg. I screamed as Booker dropped onto the mats. Stepping closer, Garen fired two more times before finally hitting Booker’s other leg. Book slumped over his damaged body, groaning in pain.

I sprung to my feet and rushed Garen, my fists flying. Garen twisted to the side and side kicked me in the stomach, sending me backwards. I flew onto the weight rack as he scurried for Booker’s guns. He scooped them up and tossed them over by the treadmills. One fired on impact. The bullet ricocheted near my head.

“I should tell you . . . I called the police. They’re sending in . . . the SWAT team.” Booker grimaced through his teeth, clearly in pain. He bent over his bleeding legs, pressing on the wounds. Blood ra
n
everywhere. A pool of it grew beneath him
.
I looked away to keep from fainting.

“No one’s getting out of here alive, Rambo, but me.” Garen shook his gun at Booker. “I’m going to take care of her first because I want the pleasure of seeing you watch.
Then I’m going to beat you senseless before I kill you, too.”

I stiffened. Garen’s words closely mirrored those of the two guys who killed Book’s mom and sister. Never in the four years since I’d met Booker had I seen fear in his eyes, until now. He too must have caught the similarity, and clearly it terrified him.

My days of being a victim were done. I grabbed a ten-pound dumbbell off the weight rack and wrapped my hands around it. As Garen drew closer, I twisted toward him with all my strength. He pulled back just as I made contact, lessening the full impact I’d hoped for. Nevertheless, he slid sideways across the floor.

Booker forced himself up. Fury replaced the fear that seized him just moments ago. He held the Glock he kept in his calf holster confidently in his hand, and aimed it at Garen. Unfortunately, Booker’s legs gave out. He stumbled just long enough for Garen to get off two deafening shots directly at Booker’s chest. The force of the bullets knocked Booker back. The mirrored wall cracked, and he slid, lifeless, to the ground. Garen dropped the gun to his side and laughed.

No!
I dropped down and grabbed my purse. My hand quickly found the gun. My thumb flipped off the safety as I spun, positioned on one knee. The gun barrel pointed directly at Garen’s heart. He turned to me. His laughing ceased. Before I squeezed the trigger, two shots rang out in rapid succession. Blood gushed from the right side of Garen’s chest and his left hip as the gun flew from his hand. His blood splattered my face. I willed myself not to faint. As he staggered and fell to the ground in front of me, a warm wetness trickled over my chest. Blood, all down my shirt. The room spun out of control and I fell over as everything went black.

Chapter 35

Booker

“Tess!” I dragged my way across the gym floor, my gun still in hand. I’d been a cop long enough to know to never put my gun down. I’d take no chances with Garen. Tess’s blood soaked shirt about stopped my heart.
Did I hit her when I shot Garen
? I searched feverishly for a wound; relieved when I saw only a skimmed shoulder, probably when I shot the gun from Garen’s hand. I pulled her to my chest. “Tess.” I held her tight. “I can’t do this anymore.” I rocked her in my shaky arms.

Within seconds police rushed the room. “Freeze! Police!” I lifted one arm in the air, the gun still in my hand.

“Booker!” Brent rushed over to me. “What happened? You only called a few minutes ago.”

I gave him a quick rundown as one of his men checked Garen, while another called for an ambulance. He took Tess from me so my wounds could be dressed. Garen groaned off to the side. Good thing the SWAT team arrived, otherwise I would have put another bullet in him. This time it would have been in his head.

“Any other injuries aside from the legs?” the medic asked as he applied a pressure bandage to my thigh. I about broke my teeth grinding them together to keep from screaming out. “Are those bullet holes in your coat?”

I didn’t bother looking down. I nodded. “Johnson shot me twice in the chest, but I’m wearing a
Kevlar vest.” The impact blew me back against the mirrors, knocking the wind out of me, but the bullets didn’t penetrate the vest. I could only imagine the bruises I’d have. I swore softly as the medic tightened the dressing around one of my legs.

“Sorry,” he said, taping it into place.

“Are you sure it’s only this shoulder wound on Tess, that she’s only fainted?” Brent asked, laying Tess down carefully next to me.

“I couldn’t find anything else. She doesn’t do blood well. Faints every time.” I reached out to wipe the blood splattered on her face as the memories of my mother and sister ate at me. “I can’t do this anymore,” I repeated softly as I lay back on the mat, pushing away the nightmares.

***

I sat in the dark, thinking. Not a good thing. The nurse left after giving me something to sleep. I don’t know why they bothered. They’d be back in ten minutes to take vitals or draw blood, waking me again anyway.

All I did for three days was relive everything. I saw Tess’s blood-soaked shirt, her blood-splattered face over and over. In my dreams. Wide wake. It haunted my every moment. And of course, thinking of her only reminded me of everyone else I’d lost. My nerves were fried. Cole tried to get me to see a shrink from the trauma team, but I refused. I wanted to be alone.

I convinced him to put me in an isolation room so I could drown in self-pity in peace. Mags and Seth came by, and when they saw the isolation sign in place, Seth knew it was my doing and not Cole’s. He called me on his cell and we had a heated discussion through the windows of the room over the phone.

“This has you written all over it,” he snapped.

I made a weak attempt to fight back. “Seth, I had surgery on both my legs. Why is it unreasonable to believe I have an infection?”
The damage to my right leg was minimal, mostly muscle. Thankfully Garen was a lousy shot. The left leg had a small chip out of the bone and the most extensive damage. Cole said I’d have a couple months of physical therapy before I could walk without a cane. I hated the cane. It made me feel like an old man, but if I tried to walk without it, the pain about dropped me.

Magpie paced back and forth as Seth continued to lecture me. Her stomach poked out a bit now. To see any kind of a tummy on her thin frame looked funny. She never could gain weight, no matter how hard she tried. I blamed it on her mother. Cole said it might be genetics. Whatever. Her mother was a waste, and as sour as my mood had been over the past few days, I didn’t want to hear it was genetics. I wanted to blame someone for everything.

I also didn’t want to listen anymore to what Seth had to say. I knew he was right, but I continued to let everything churn and eat at me. I pretended my phone battery died, which he didn’t believe either. He stormed out. Maggie, with her soulful blue eyes looked at me. She mouthed,
Love you, Garfield
, and left.

Lilah and Sofia came by a short time later. I waved at them through the window. Sofia brought a stuffed bear for me. She gave it to the nurse before they left. It broke my heart to see her sad little face as she waved her chubby fingers at me.

Tess’s shoulder wound didn’t require surgery. Turned out she was up on her knees when I shot Garen’s hip out. The bullet grazed her shoulder after taking out his hip.

It took nine hours of surgery to rebuild Garen’s hip socket. Both his hip and shoulder joints were completely destroyed and would have to be replaced after the bone healed. I don’t miss when I aim my gun. I wrestled with putting a bullet in his head, but years of training to shoot to stop, not shoot to kill, were
embedded deep within me. Besides, unlike Garen, I wasn’t an animal, although I did hope that he’d live a long painful life of constant joint pain. Okay, so I wasn’t a
complete
animal.

Tess didn’t have to spend any time in the hospital. They cleaned her shoulder, dressed it, and sent her home. She’d come by a number of times the first couple of days to visit me. Each time I made an excuse not to see her, claiming I had an appointment with a specialist or that I was extremely tired and could she come back another time. She stopped coming after the third day.

Five days after my surgery I was discharged. Cole drove me home, and was given strict instructions, by me, to not let anyone know yet. I needed to get some rest because I certainly didn’t get any at the hospital. I was tired of chaos. I needed some peace and quiet.

The next morning I rose early, unable to sleep. I let Daisy out. She took care of her business while I filled her food bowl. I let her back in and she ran straight to her food. “Slow down and enjoy it, girl.” I ruffled the fur on her head. She kept inhaling her meal. I hobbled over to the couch and sank into one of the recliners. I fell back asleep until the doorbell rang two hours later.

I shuffled to the door, biting back several groans. I looked through the peephole and saw Tess standing there, looking beautiful in her green sweater.
I love that on her
.

I reached for the handle, not looking forward to what I had to do, but it was time. The least I could do was tell her.
That I owed her.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” she asked. No hug, no kiss. She knew, or at least suspected, something was amiss.

“Good. Come on in.” I waddled into the family room. The only sound was the click of my stupid cane on the wood floor. I dropped into the recliner with a grimace.

“Are you okay? Would you like something for pain?” She sat next to me and touched my arm. I pulled way and folded my arms across my chest. It was going to be hard enough without having her touch me.

“No. The pills don’t help with the pain. They just make my head foggy, and put me to sleep,” I explained as Daisy bounded into the room. She ran straight to Tess. No surprise. The dog loved Tess almost as much as I did. I stopped my hand from rubbing the ache in my heart.

“Garen’s claiming it was self-defense.” She stroked the dog’s head. I could have sworn Daisy smiled. “He’s claiming you walked in on us in a compromising situation, and in a jealous rage you shot him.”

“Seriously?” Idiot. “What about the clerk he killed over in Buffalo?”

“An accident.” She clenched her jaw. “He said he was scared the clerk was going to shoot him and was trying to wrestle the gun away when it went off. Vintage Garen. Everything bad that happens is always someone else’s fault.”

“He can’t think that will fly in court,” I pressed. She shrugged but said nothing else.

With the exception of the grandfather clock in the corner with its rhythmic ticking, deafening silence filled the room. Even Daisy seemed to sense the tension as she slinked away.

Finally, Tess cleared her throat. “I can’t thank you enough for saving me. I can never repay you.” She stared at her hands as she spoke instead of me. “And I’m guessing that you’ve had enough of my drama, and you want out.” Her eyes met mine. They mirrored what I felt. Heartbreak.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tess. I left the MET because I was sick of the drama, the heartache. I want . . . no, I
need
a simple life. It’s why I chose real estate law over criminal or, heaven forbid, family law.” What some dysfunctional families did to each other disgusted me.

“I see.” She stood. “And I understand. Garen may be in jail, but he’s hardly out of my life. Who knows how long the trial will last? And he may even get off. It wouldn’t be the first time a guilty man walked free.”

I struggled to get up and finally relented and used my cane. Tess’s face etched with anguish at watching me struggle. “I hope we can still be friends.” I wanted to kick myself the moment the words left my mouth. They were the kiss of death on any relationship.

To her credit, she only nodded and turned for the door. “I’ll walk you to your car,” I said. She bolted ahead of me, slamming the door long before I got there. I hobbled into the kitchen and took a pain pill. I didn’t want to feel for a while.