“You’ve got a better chance of getting away with killing me by keeping her alive and taking her hostage.”
Kara tossed her head back and laughed.
Jag mouthed, now and nodded.
Callie held her breath and lunged to the side, hitting Kara as hard as she could with her shoulder, knocking her off-balance.
Bang!
Callie fell on top of Kara as the gun flew to the ground, landing about five feet away.
Thud.
“Fuck,” Jag said with a groan as he held his hand over the right part of his chest.
Kara kicked Callie off her and crawled toward the weapon.
Callie did her best to try to stop her but with her hands tied it was nearly impossible.
Jag jumped to his feet, holding his hand over a bloody wound as raced toward them, but skidded to a stop as Kara lay on the muddy ground with the gun once again pointed at Jag.
“You stupid fucking asshole,” Kara said as she rose.
“I’m not as stupid as you think.” Jag dropped to his knees. Blood trickled down his arm.
“Put down the weapon,” a woman’s voice called. “Or I’ll shoot.”
Callie rolled to her side and let out a sigh of relief as she stared at Jenna and three other police officers, all pointing their weapons at Kara.
“You kill me. They kill you. It’s just a lot of fucking paperwork,” Jag said with a raspy breath. He fell to his back. “I hope someone called an ambulance, because I think I need one.”
Callie tried to scramble to her feet, but she couldn’t.
Footsteps stomped past her. One officer took the gun from Kara, slamming her up against the car.
“Hang on,” Jenna whispered. “Let me cut the tape.”
“Jag.” Callie had to get to him. Tears burned her cheeks as they poured down her face. All she could see was him lying flat on his back, his legs stretched out. One of the cops knelt next to him. She couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing. “How did you know we were here?”
“When we’re on duty, we use find my iPhone. Kara had his this whole time. And then Tina called 9-1-1 and confirmed the location. I’m just sorry we didn’t get here before the bitch shot him.”
Sirens rang out just as Jenna freed Callie’s hands. “Thank you.” She raced to Jag’s side.
His face was drained of all color. His eyes were closed, and his breath was shallow.
She glanced at the other police officer who was placing pressure on his wound. He had a grim expression. “You fight, Jagar Bowie. You hear me. I promised you three months. But I really want a lifetime. I love you, so you better not die on me, asshole; you got that?”
“What she said,” the officer said.
Callie sat in the corner of the waiting room. Jag’s wound had required a dangerous surgery to remove the bullet from one of his heart chambers. Without the surgery, he’d surely die.
But the procedure itself could kill him as well.
The doors swished open, however it was a doctor for another family.
She let out a long breath and went back to sipping the shitty hospital coffee.
“How are you holding up?” Henrietta, his mother, asked as she took the seat next to her, offering her a muffin.
“I’m okay.” She shook her head. “No thank you. I’m not hungry.”
“It’s been almost twenty-four hours, and you haven’t eaten anything. You need to eat, dear.” Henrietta shoved it in her hand.
Callie took it and gave her a weak smile. She glanced up and looked around the room. Ziggy and Jag’s father stood by the vending machines while Darcie lay sprawled out on one of the hard benches with her head in Troy’s lap. Part of Callie wanted to run. She didn’t belong with his family. If it wasn’t for her bringing Kara back, Jag wouldn’t be fighting for his life right now.
“Thank you,” Callie managed to choke out.
“He’s going to pull through.” Henrietta patted her leg. “He’s a Bowie, and we’re fighters.”
“That he is.” Callie nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
Callie set both her coffee and muffin on the table and cupped her face. She couldn’t stop the flood gates if she tried. At least they were silent tears, and no one had to hear them. Only her shoulders bobbed up and down like a crazy person.
“Oh, honey, if you’re thinking this is your fault, you better stop that now.” Henrietta wrapped an arm around Callie and stroked her hair.
“It is my fault.” Callie sucked in a breath and stiffened her spine. “Besides me bringing all this back to Seattle, he all but begged her to shoot him instead of me.”
“That’s kind of what cops do,” Henrietta said. “And he loves you.”
Callie turned her head and stared into the sweetest, kindest, loving eyes. They were filled with understanding and forgiveness. Warmth and gratitude. Callie opened her mouth, but no words came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “So many people died because of me and that book and now Jag—”
“You better not talk like that in front of my son,” Herold said, standing over her with his hands on his hips. “The only person to blame in all of this is Kara or Carol or whatever the fuck that woman’s name is. Frankly, this family is damn happy to have you back. Our son was miserable without you. Now once this surgery is over and he wakes up, I hope you won’t be talking like that. And please tell me you’re staying.”
“As long as Jag wants me to, yes,” she said.
“Good.” Harold sat down on the other side of her and took her hand and kissed the backside of it. “Did you know we made it to the hospital just as the helicopter landed with Jag on it?”
She shook her head.
“We got to see him right before they wheeled him into the OR,” Herold said. “He asked
