Wilde Edge (14 page)

She finished getting dressed, and
then surprised him by tossing him the keys to her car.

“Let’s go home.”

* *
* *

Tag hadn’t had a chance to drive
Jolena’s
Mustang yet, and he was having so much fun behind
the wheel that he took the longest available route home. It responded
differently than his Impala, but the raw power was the same, as was the sense
of personality that newer cars never seemed to have.

“Ready to admit Fords are better?”
Jolena
asked as he eased the muscle car into the garage behind
her house. The overhead light was linked to the garage door opener, giving him
enough light to see to park, but not much else. The walls were lined with old
tools, dusty posters and random sports equipment that probably hadn’t been used
since
Jolena
had traded rollerblades for her first
torque wrench.

“Nope.
I
am, however, willing to consider the possibility that all Fords aren’t
automatically inferior to all Chevys.”

Jo rolled her eyes in response and
then leaned forward to pat the dashboard of her car. “It’s okay, baby. I know
you’re the best. He just doesn’t get to drive you again until he admits the
truth.”

“So that’s how it’s going to be? I
love you, you love me, but we’re going to be a Ford vs. Chevy family forever?”

“Only until you realize I’m right
and you’re wrong,” she said and grinned at him before opening the door and
climbing out.

“Never going to
happen.”

 
“I’m telling Tiffany you drove a Ford and you
liked it!”
Jolena
taunted him as she bolted for the
door leading to the backyard. She tugged it open and then turned to stick her
tongue out at him in challenge.

At that moment, the world exploded
into gunfire and chaos.

His training kicked in and Tag
threw himself against the nearest wall, but he never took his eyes off of
Jolena
. Two more shots rang out in the time it took for her
to stagger back from the door, both bullets striking the doorframe with a meaty
sound that sent splinters of wood flying in all directions.

Everything was happening in slow
motion, and Tag had time to take in every detail as he pushed off from the wall
and charged across the garage toward the still-open door. Her eyes were wide
and filled with dazed bewilderment, her lips parted as if she was about to
speak, but she stayed silent as she swayed in place and then crumpled to the
floor.

There was a tear in her jacket just
above her right bicep, the light blue fabric turning a sickening purple as
blood bloomed from a wound he couldn’t see. Her face went pale with shock and
then her mouth snapped shut, lips thinning as the pain hit. She covered her
injured arm with her other hand, the blood quickly seeping between her fingers.
He wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Not
until he’d dealt with the shooter.

“You dead, bitch?” A familiar voice
snarled from the darkness outside, bringing the moment of slow-motion clarity
to an end.

“Not even
close,
asshole! You’re as bad a shot as you were a husband!”
Jolena
yelled back, gingerly backing herself into the small space between the open
door and the wall.

Tag felt a brief hit of relief as
he heard the vicious outrage in
Jolena’s
voice. If
she had the strength to hurl insults at her ex, then the odds were good she was
going to be okay.

Which was more
than could be said for the bastard who shot her.

The scuff and slide of Greg’s shoes
on the pavement told Tag two things. First, it gave away the man’s approach,
and second, the bastard was drunk again, so much so he couldn’t even walk in a
straight line. Tag reached for the only weapon at hand, a cobweb-covered wrench
hanging on the wall near the door.

“You ruined me! Everything’s gone.
The deal, the money, all of it.
You fucking cow, you ruined
everything! You could have given me this, but you had to be a selfish bitch,
same as always. But your daddy isn’t here anymore to protect you, and I looked,
that pretty boy isn’t home either. It’s just you and me this time, bitch. You
should’ve given me what I wanted,
then
this wouldn’t
be happening. It’s
all your
fault
.” Greg’s non-stop babbling got louder and more incoherent
with every passing second.

Tag waited, fingers wrapped around
the shaft of the wrench. He could taste the sour-metal tang of adrenalin in his
mouth, his blood pounding in his ears. Anticipation coiled inside him, a
clock-spring wound to the point of breaking, but still, he waited. Surprise was
the one thing he had going for him. He had to get the son of a bitch disarmed
and away from
Jolena
. That was his only goal right
now.

 
“Since you’re not dead yet, I’m going to teach
you a lesson—” Greg stepped into the doorway, a small caliber automatic held
out in front of him in one unsteady hand. Tag didn’t hesitate. He brought the
wrench down across Greg’s wrist with every ounce of his strength and was
gratified by the crunch of bones breaking as he made contact.

Greg shrieked in wordless pain,
dropping the gun as he stared at Tag in drunken confusion.

“You!”

****

From her spot behind the door, Jo
couldn’t see anything but Greg’s shoes, but she could hear perfectly well. The
moment Greg started screaming in pain she kicked at the door, sending it
slamming into him. The blow knocked him backward, still shrieking as he tried
to regain his balance. Tag never gave him that chance.

Both men vanished from her line of
sight, leaving Jo alone in a fog of pain. In the movies, getting winged by a
bullet seemed like no big deal. Now that she was the one trying to keep
pressure on the bleeding gash in her arm, Jo knew the movies were bullshit. It
hurt
. All she wanted to do was curl up
in this corner and cry, but that wasn’t an option.

She took a deep breath and let go
of her injured arm, ignoring the blood that immediately started flowing again.
Moving awkwardly, she managed to get onto her knees, her body supported on her
one good arm as she fought back a wave of nausea brought on by the pain. There
was no way she was going to do something weak, like faint. She was not going to
be that person.

From her new vantage point, she
could see the gun lying only a few feet away, right below her car’s bumper. It
gave her something to focus on, and she started crawling forward, letting her
injured arm hang down to the floor. In the back of her mind she knew that
wasn’t a good idea, that she should put pressure on it and
keep
it elevated, but that was going to have to wait.

The entire time she was crawling to
the gun, Jo could hear the sounds of fighting coming from outside, and once the
entire garage shuddered as a body slammed into the back wall. Based on the
gibbering scream of pain and rage that came a few seconds later, she guessed
that it was Greg that was getting tossed around like Stallone’s punching bag.

Good.
I hope it
hurts,
asshole.

She got her hand on the gun,
feeling better for having it in her possession despite the fact she knew almost
nothing about how to use one. She fought to stand, using the front of her car
to haul herself painfully to her feet. It felt like hours had passed since
she’d been shot, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute, or maybe two. It
was hard to judge things properly anymore. Everything seemed out of joint and
disconnected, and a single word wandered through her mind and then vanished
again before she could focus on it.
Shock.

Her arm felt as though lead weights
had been strapped to it, and the pain was a living thing, chewing on her arm
like a thousand tiny demons. Jo wasn’t going to let that stop her. She started
walking toward the door, part of her idly noting the ruby splashes of blood she
was leaving on the bare cement floor.

She finally made it to the doorway
and stepped into the wind torn darkness beyond. She could hear the fight before
she could see it, her eyes needing a moment to adjust to the darkness. The wet
slam of fists hitting flesh and grunts of pain assailed her ears.
 
Two dark forms took shape less than a dozen
feet from her, one of them moving hard and fast, the other barely moving at
all. Her night vision kicked in just in time to see Tag slam his fist into
Greg’s stomach. The smaller man staggered back, one arm flailing and the other
hanging limply at his side. Tag moved in again, and this time Jo caught a flash
of silver as he hit Greg with punch that sent her ex crashing to the ground
with a barely coherent moan of pain.

She knew that every blow Tag landed
was for her. He was her dark knight, her personal protector, and she loved him
fiercely in that moment as he put down the man who had made her life so
miserable.

“Not so fun when you’re the one
getting hit, is it?” she asked and Tag’s head snapped around to look at her,
his face a mask of fury that softened the second their eyes met.

“Angel, put the gun down.” He
murmured and she glanced down at her hand, surprised to see that she had the
weapon pointed at Greg, who lay sprawled in the middle of her backyard. There
was something deeply satisfying about knowing she had the power over him now.
For once, the abusive bastard was at
her
mercy. She could end this. Make it so that Greg could never hurt her again.

As fast as the thought came, she
dismissed it. Taking a life wasn’t who she was. She was better than that.
Better than him. Jo lowered her arm, carefully moving her finger off the
trigger as the world came back into focus.

Tag was there a heartbeat later,
dropping the wrench he’d been carrying on to the ground as he took the gun from
her limp fingers. She let it go without protest, knowing she didn’t need it
anymore.

“Put your hand back over the hole
where that bastard shot you and press down hard. You’re still bleeding. We need
to get you to a hospital.” Tag spoke, keeping the gun trained on Greg the whole
time.

“I hate hospitals,” she grumbled.
Taking a deep breath, she peeled back some of the destroyed edge of her coat to
look at the wound for the first time.

Well,
that explains why it hurts so damned much.

There was a chunk of flesh missing
from her arm where the bullet had plowed through the meat of her upper arm. She
gritted her teeth and clamped her hand over the laceration, hissing through her
teeth as a fresh wave of pain washed over.

He ran his free hand over her body,
checking for injuries before he wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her
in against his side, lending her his strength and support. “I don’t like
hospitals either, but they have really good drugs. Trust
me,
you’re going to want them when the shock wears off. You’re okay apart from the
arm though, right?”

 
“Just my arm.
Getting
shot sucks,” she muttered, leaning into the solid warmth of his body. It was so
cold out here that her teeth were starting to chatter.

“Believe me, I know.” The sound of
sirens pierced the air, and Tag breathed a near silent sigh of relief.

“You think that’s for us?” she
asked, dimly aware that she should have called 9-1-1 instead of picking up the
gun and going outside. It hadn’t even occurred to her at the time.

“Take a look around, angel. We’ve got
all your neighbors watching through the windows, and I bet every single one of
them has called the cops. Gunshots and brawls tend to make people
do that
.”

Tag nodded toward the homes on
either side of them and Jo finally noticed the number of people peering at them
through curtains and blinds.

“I hope they enjoyed the show.
There won’t be an encore.”

“Damn right. This was a onetime
only event.” Tag’s arm tightened around her and his voice deepened to a gruff
rumble. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of protecting you.”

“You couldn’t have known. No one
could have known he’d do this. If you hadn’t been with me tonight…” Jo trailed
off, not wanting to say anything more. Words had power, and she didn’t need to
say it out loud to know just how close she’d come to death tonight.

On the ground in front of them,
Greg groaned and tried to lift his head. “Ruined…everything…”

White-hot rage flared through her,
pushing back the pain and all the emotions fogging her mind. “
I
didn’t ruin things, you bastard. You
did that all on your own. And now you’re going to go to jail and I will never
have to see or hear from you again. I win, Greg. I’ll have my home, and my
business, and a man who loves me, and you get
nothing
.”

The sirens were coming closer, and
she knew that within a minute or two this would all be over. She’d survived.
Better than that, she’d won. She’d conquered her past, with Tag’s help, and now
she knew the future was going to be a good one. It had to be, because she was
going to make it that way.

Chapter Eleven

In the weeks since the attack,
Tag’s whole life had transformed. The changes had started the day he’d met
Jolena
, but these days they were coming thick and fast. Not
that he was complaining. His life was full again, full of purpose and laughter
and reasons to get up every morning and face the world.

Officially he and
Jolena
still lived separately, but the reality was that
they were rarely apart. They alternated sleeping at her place or his, but Tag
hadn’t woken up alone since the first night they’d been together. He liked her
place––it had a sense of hominess and comfort to it that appealed to him. It
was the same feel as his parents’ house, welcoming and safe.