Being hit by a truck was the only explanation for that much pain. My entire head throbbed, and every muscle ached with such ferocity I was afraid to move. My arms were the worst, limp like all the bones had disappeared. They were stretched above my head, held up by something tight and cold wrapped around my wrists. I willed my arms to move, but I’d lost control of them.
After a second fruitless attempt, my brain finally rebooted and started functioning past the instinctive level. The smell hit me first: stale air and musky mildew. Touch: besides the general hit-by-a-truck feeling, I also felt a trail of something sticky starting at my throbbing forehead and running down to my cheek. My head was leaking, never a good thing. My hair was still damp, a fact that pleased me to no end. That meant I’d been out for only a few hours, not days.
Sound came next: thumping footsteps above my head, followed by the creaking of wood. Finally, I opened my eyes, blinking a few times for them to adjust. The boxes stacked up, the redbrick walls, the dirty concrete floor that I seemed to be sitting on, the lone light bulb hanging above, and the steep wooden staircase that led up to the kitchen. My basement. Okay.
Back to the problem at hand, my arms. I tilted my head up to see what was so tight around my wrists. Big mistake. A wave of nausea hit like a baseball bat. I choked the foul bile back. I was now positive I had a concussion; it was something that could never be mistaken for anything else. After the nausea passed, I bent my head back slowly this time, keeping the second onslaught to a minimum. My arms were handcuffed to a rusty pipe above my head, attached like two white vines. No wonder they were numb. I balled my hands into fists several times to get the blood flowing. My arms started coming to as the pins and needles under my skin started. Improvement, but not much. I was, after all, handcuffed to a pipe in my basement while a psychopath was upstairs planning God knew what.
When my arms no longer felt dead, I started pulling on the pipe with all my might. The handcuffs dug into my wrists, rubbing them raw. I grunted and groaned, using all of my 105 pounds to pull. The pipe didn’t move an inch and neither did I.
“Good, you’re awake.”
I gazed up at the staircase and saw Shepherd, nonchalantly resting against the doorframe. The light from the kitchen behind him gave him an almost supernatural look, as if he were standing at the doorway of heaven looking down into hell.
“You know,” he said, pushing away from the doorframe, “you have no real food here. I found about five different kinds of candy bars but nothing of substance. I have no idea how you manage to keep your figure.” He began to limp down the stairs one at a time. The right pant leg was torn, with white gauze wrapped around it.
“What happened to your leg?” I asked with satisfaction.
“Your dog bit me.”
“I’ll have to remember to get him a steak next time I go shopping.”
“I wouldn’t bother.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pulled out a silver, snub-nosed .38 from his pants. “I shot him.”
I jerked forward but the cuffs stop me. “You son of a bitch!” I screamed. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
“I don’t think so. You don’t get to make the threats now, I do. Bet you’re wishing you’d killed me when you had the chance.”
“Fuck you!”
He crossed the room at a superhuman speed. Before I registered it, his fist made contact with my cheek, sending my head flying back into the wall with a thump, fazing me. “Nobody talks to me that way, Iris,” he hissed. “Nobody.”
Now my cheek felt like the rest of me, broken and throbbing. “Oh, God,” I whispered.
“I never thought I’d ever see you looking so pathetic. It almost takes the fun out of this. Almost.”
I looked up at his hard face. “What are you going to do to me?”
He knelt down to my level. “I haven’t really decided yet. There are so many possibilities, I almost can’t choose. Looking at you like this, so helpless,” he began to trace my naked arms with his fingertips, “I feel like a kid in a candy store.” He trailed them down my cheek, the one he’d hit, but I yanked my head away. He caressed it anyway. “I’ve waited for this moment for weeks. You can’t imagine the things I’ve done to you in my mind.” He traced the outline of my jaw. “And now to finally have you in front of me…” His thumb gently rubbed my dry lips. “I’m rock hard.”
I spit on his cheek. He winced on contact. “Get your fucking hands off of me.”
He scoffed and wiped the spit off. “Classy.” With one quick movement, he raised the .38 toward my head and fired.
BOOM!
My eyes closed instinctively as I moved as far left as I could. Not far enough. Bits of brick hit my face, ripping my skin away in their wake. The pain was the only way I knew I was still alive. I opened my eyes and turned to the right to find a smoking hole in the wall three inches from my head. Short gasps escaped my mouth, close to the point of hyperventilating.
“I’m surprised it didn’t ricochet,” Shepherd said nonchalantly. “Good gun. Got it black market. Untraceable.”
“This is insane,” I said to myself, my whole body quivering from shock and fright. “You got away with it. What can you possibly gain from this? Everyone’s going to know it’s you. Why are you doing this?”
With his whole body, he leaned forward into me. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but his face stopped two inches from mine. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “Your hair, your lips, your…breasts.” He touched the curve of my breast with a faraway look in his eyes. “You haunt my dreams, Iris.” He looked up at my eyes. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“You were crazy to begin with,” I said breathlessly. “I’m not responsible for that mess.”
He snarled like a wolf. “I hate you. I hate you more than anyone else I’ve ever come across.”
“Well, at least we’re on the same page there.”
He pulled away from me and stood, gazing down at me, eyes laughing with victory. “I just figured out what to do with you. I think I’ll go find your friend Carol and her little boy. She still lives on Hazel Lane, no? I’m going to fuck her while you watch and slice open her chest when she’s alive. Then I’ll do the same to her little boy. He’s not really my type, but tonight I’ll make an exception. Then finally, I’ll do you. Every which way possible…repeatedly until the sun comes up, then I’ll rip out your beating heart. How would you like that?”
“Your mother really did a number on you,” I said with as much confidence as I still possessed, which wasn’t much. “Or maybe it was you who initiated first contact. Maybe you snuck into Mommy’s room, and she was there, looking so beautiful…Did you get an erection, Jerry? Do you still beat off to her picture?”
“If you’re trying to get me to shoot you, save your breath. I’m not going to kill you in some fit of rage. I can only kill you once.”
“And then what? You think the pain will go away when I’m dead?”
He knelt down right beside me again. “No,” he whispered as he leaned in so close to my face I could smell the Scope on his breath, “but it’ll make me feel so much better.”
He lunged at my face, smashing his lips against mine so hard my lips hit my teeth. As if that wasn’t revolting enough, his free hand moved into my tank top, finding my bare breast and kneading it roughly, twisting the nipple like a screw so hard I would have screamed if I could. Panic hit. This was really happening. He was going to rape and kill me in my own basement. I was momentarily paralyzed with fear, unable to do anything even if I’d been free. But when his slimy tongue slipped into my mouth like a slug, it snapped me out of shock and into rage.
I bit it. Hard.
My mouth filled with metallic blood and the nausea resurfaced. Shepherd pulled away, hands and all, and touched his bleeding tongue. I’d only nicked it, but he got the point. I spit out his blood onto the concrete.
He spit out his blood too, only he did it on my face. “You fucking bit me!” he shouted, absolutely shocked.
“Didn’t think I was going to make it easy for you, did you, you fucking psycho!” The back of his hand smacked the left side of my face, sending my head flying back again. My poor head—good thing I was so thick skulled. I turned back to Shepherd and smiled. “That all you got? My grandmother hits harder than you.”
He was right back in my face. “I am going to teach you what real pain is,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
I leaned in so our noses touched. “Then do it, motherfucker.”
A screeching from above caused us both to glance up at the ceiling. The alarm. Dear Lord, I would never complain about that sound again. A perplexed Shepherd jumped to his feet. I could practically see the wheels of his mind turning, running through all the possibilities and contingencies. After five seconds, he looked back down at me, holding the gun up to my forehead. “Give me the code and password.”
“Fuck you.”
A pounding upstairs made him turn back to the open door at the top of the stairs. There was rhythmic pounding, then silence. Two gunshots boomed above us, followed by the sound of wood breaking.
“Help me!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I’m down here!”
Shepherd pulled out a set of handcuff keys, and keeping the gun turned on me, unlocked my cuffs. He yanked me to my feet, pressing the gun against my temple. He held my left arm, fingers digging into my flesh so hard I winced. Iris Ballard, the human shield.
“Keep your hands to the side,” he said into my ear as the running footsteps got closer, “and don’t make any sudden moves or I’ll fire.”
“Iris?”
The sound of his voice was such a relief, I was sure I would have fallen if Shepherd weren’t holding me so tight. “Luke?” I called.
“Iris?” he shouted again, desperation in his voice.
“Luke! Run!” I shrieked. “He has a—”
Luke stepped into the doorway, his own gun out. No man had ever looked so good to me before. His eyes doubled in size when he saw me, a mix of terror and relief on his face. As trained, the moment he saw the gun, he moved behind the door for cover. Shepherd pressed the gun even harder into my head.
“Take out the clip and bullet in the chamber and throw it all down here,” Shepherd commanded.
“No way, Shepherd,” Luke said.
“I will shoot her dead if you don’t.”
“Luke, don’t you fucking dare!” I shouted.
“Let her go, Shepherd!”
“Throw the gun down first, and then we’ll talk.”
Luke peeked out of his hiding spot, glancing down at me. I pleaded silently with my eyes for him to just turn around and run. Our eyes met. For a fleeting moment I saw his indecision. Training said you kept cover, tried to talk the perp down, and waited for backup to arrive. And you never, ever gave up your weapon. Luke’s indecision vanished. He always was a chivalrous fucking idiot. I gasped as he pushed the clip release button. It fell into his hand. He tossed it down the stairs. It landed in the far corner. He yanked back the chamber, expelling the sole bullet. The rest of the gun landed on top of some boxes in front of me. Luke raised his hands and laced his fingers behind his head, surrendering. He slowly walked down the creaky stairs. “Now let her go.”
Shepherd’s chuckle sliced through the air. “Iris, you have quite a man here. He’s got balls of steel. Probably a dick to match. You’re a lucky girl.”
“Damn lucky.”
“How sweet,” Shepherd said. “So, Agent Hudson, how did you find us?”
“You were under unofficial surveillance in New York,” he said to Shepherd.
“I thought so,” Shepherd said. “Wasn’t sure, though. So you traced me here. Bravo. Didn’t catch me in time, though.” He pressed the gun harder.
“Let her go, Shepherd. The police are on their way. You’ll never get out of here if you don’t leave now.”
“I will if I have a hostage.”
“Then take me,” Luke said. “You’ll be able to negotiate better if you have an officer of the law.”
“True, but I can have a lot more fun with your Iris here.” He licked my cheek, leaving a bloody slime trail in his wake. “She really is a beautiful creature. It must be torture knowing she’ll never reciprocate your feelings. That the grief and guilt of that one night will always cloud her affections. That she’ll always look at you filled with self-loathing, when all you want is for her to gaze at you like she did him. She never will. She isn’t worth dying for, Luke.”
Luke’s clear blue eyes met mine. All fear and doubt vanished in an instant. The whole world fell away as a small grin crossed his face. “Yes…she is.”
Shepherd shrugged. “If you say so.”
With one quick movement Shepherd’s arm leveled, gun pointed out. Three shots, one after another, rang out, drowning my screams. The bullets hit Luke’s chest, three holes blooming on his white shirt. He flew backward from the force, spinning and landing on his bullet-riddled chest.
He didn’t move. No.
Everything became red. Every muscle in my body tensed with pure hate. My blood boiled inside me so hot I wanted to jump out of my skin. Not again. With the strength of six men, I clenched my hands together and elbowed Shepherd’s taut solar plexus. All the air rushed out of his lungs with a large gasp. He bent at a 90-degree angle, clutching his stomach with both hands, releasing me. I spun around and kicked up my right leg, hitting his lower jaw with a crack. Still holding the gun, he fell on his back, stunned for only a millisecond before sweeping my feet out from under me. I fell on top of him.
I grabbed both his hands, raising them above our heads so the gun pointed to the wall. He tried to move the gun toward my head, but I was too strong. Of course, so was he. Shepherd wouldn’t release it no matter how deep I scratched. As we struggled, the jostling and clawing made the gun go off. Once. Twice until the gun clicked empty. With that first click, I jammed my knee as hard as I could into his groin, sending everything but the stove flying back. He groaned like a punk as I jumped off his body and flew up the stairs two at a time.
The alarm still screeched as I entered the bright kitchen. Gun. Had to get my gun. I sprinted into the hallway and then the living room. The front door was broken down, with splinters of wood everywhere. My purse lay on the sofa where I’d left it. Just as I grabbed it, something heavy smashed into my back. A body. I fell stomach first onto the hardwood floor, getting winded as I hit the ground. The contents of my purse scattered onto the floor next to me. Fingers jerked my arm up, spinning me onto my back. A bleeding, enraged-to-the-point-of-madness Shepherd straddled me. He wrapped his hands around my throat, squeezing like a boa constrictor. “You. Fucking. Bitch!”
I tried hitting him with my fists but could muster little more than a tap. It was like throwing pebbles at a tank. I reached to the right for the gun, but it had skidded too far out of my reach. Time passed, only seconds, but they felt like hours. Shepherd’s eyes began to tear up from the force of his grip, his whole body shaking with tension. A maniacal laugh escaped his throat. Spots began to cloud my eyes and all sound faded away.
I was dying.
Suddenly, Shepherd’s body jerked forward like he’d been thrashed by a piece of plywood. His fingers left my throat and I gasped and coughed for breath, gulping it in large quantities. A shocked Shepherd fell to my left, giving me a chance to roll to the right, grabbing the gun on the way. Sound returned. I heard Shepherd groaning and screaming in agony. He looked toward the front door, eyes filled with disbelief. After a few more gasps for air, I propped myself up and managed to find my feet. I turned toward the door slowly and almost fell back down at the sight.
Luke stood six feet away, his hair a wild mess, body trembling, breathing raggedly, with his smoking gun trained on Shepherd. Luke glanced over at me and we both turned back to Shepherd, who was struggling for breath himself. A pool of blood rested under him, staining his white shirt.
I took an uneasy step toward him, then another, the gun dangling in my hand. He looked away from Luke to the gun, and his anger rose with each of my steps toward him. Meriwether had that same defiant look on his face before I blew him away. A small smile crept across Shepherd’s face as I reached his prostrate body.
“Go ahead…kill me.”
A slide show of horrible images clicked through my mind. Diana with her blond hair saturated with blood. Audrey Burke’s naked body lying on the riverbed. Chuck and Gabriel’s eyes both so lost and hurt. Then Luke as the bullets hit his chest. With my shaking arms, I raised the gun.
“Iris…” Luke said behind me. “Please. Don’t.”
I didn’t take my eyes off Shepherd. “You’re a killer, Iris,” he whispered. “Do it.” That grin of his grew. “DO IT!”
“Fuck you.” With one quick move, I brought the gun down on his forehead, knocking him into unconsciousness. “You’re not even close to worth it.” I did kick him just for good measure. He was out. I won.
I spun around and dashed straight into Luke’s solid arms. I threw mine around his neck, holding tight. He squeezed me back so hard I could barely breathe. I didn’t care. He could have crushed me until I burst as long as he didn’t let me go. Safe. I was finally safe. I sobbed hysterically into his neck as he kissed the top of my head. I breathed in his smell, stroked his hair. I wanted to touch his face to make sure this was real.
“Oh, thank God,” he whispered through the kisses. “Thank you, God.”
I lifted my head up from his shoulder. “I thought you were dead,” I managed to whisper, though my throat felt like it had been cut by glass.
He wiped the tears off my right cheek with his finger. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he said with a smile. He released me and opened his shirt, revealing a blue Kevlar vest with three gold slugs still in it. “I’d never enter your house without one.”
I touched the vest, and he winced. “Are you okay?”
“Just a few broken ribs. I’ll live.”
“Oh.” I threw my arms around him again, getting another wince. I quickly let go. “Sorry. Sorry.” I made a mental note to thank the people at Kevlar.
“You and me both.” He grimaced. “I think I need to sit down,” he admitted. I grabbed his right arm, throwing it over my shoulders. He put his gun back in the holster. We walked past the broken door onto the porch, opening the screen door so we could sit on the steps. With a groan on both our parts, I managed to get him down, taking a seat right next to him. We stared at one another for a few seconds as the alarm screeched. I tried to smile, but when I did pain shot through my cheek.
Luke reached over and lifted my chin. “Did he break anything?”
I shook my head. “Could have been a lot worse. You got here just in time.”
He pushed back a strand of my bloody hair plastered to my forehead. “Not quite.”
“How did you know he was coming after me?”
“I had him under unofficial surveillance. I had people following him.”
“Why? I thought—”
“After you left, I got to thinking about all the other cases we worked together, and I tried to remember a single time you were wrong.” He scoffed. “I couldn’t. I trusted you then, and despite everything, my gut told me to trust you now. So I called my father. He gave me the names of some retired agents to tail him. They followed him to bondage clubs, to hotels he went to with escorts, and…I knew you were right. So when I got your message today, they entered his apartment. He must have snuck out the back.” Luke shook his head. “I caught the first flight here. I was going crazy. I couldn’t reach you or the police. Reggie, he…I wanted to kill him when he wouldn’t send anyone over. I just…I…” He touched the gash on my forehead and looked toward the driveway. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you sooner.”
“You were willing to give your life for mine,” I said softly.
He turned back and smiled, tracing my eyebrow with his thumb as his tender eyes stared into mine. “Of course. Only person I’d do it for.”
“Ditto.” The butterflies returned with a vengeance. “He was wrong, you know.”
“About what?”
I cupped his hand against my face, nuzzling it. As he always had, he read my mind. His thumb moved down to my lips, caressing them and making my whole body tingle. He began to lean in, and I closed my eyes.
Fuck!
A loud siren and crackling gravel ruined the moment. We jumped apart like jackrabbits. I felt like a teenager who had been caught by her father making out with her boyfriend. Luke must have felt the same, since his face was as red as mine probably was. A sheriff’s patrol car barreled up the drive, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Sheriff Wade and Deputy French jumped out of the car, guns at the ready. “Dear Lord in heaven,” Wade said as he looked at us. “You Agent Hudson? The one who called? What in the hell happened to the two of you?”
I helped Luke stand. “You need to radio for an ambulance right away,” Luke instructed. “We have a white male, age forty-six unconscious with a GSW to the back. He needs immediate assistance.”
French jumped back into the car and grabbed the radio. Wade holstered his gun and walked up to us. “Looks like you both could use one too.”
“We’ll live,” I assured him.
Sheriff Wade walked into my house, but Luke and I waited at the entrance to the living room. I had no desire to go anywhere near that man ever again. Wade bent down next to Shepherd, feeling his neck for a pulse. He pulled his hand away and stared at Shepherd’s face. “Is that really who I think it is?”
“Dr. Jeremy Shepherd, in the flesh,” Luke said.
“Damn,” Wade said, shaking his head in disbelief. He turned back to us. “I guess you were right.”
“She’s always—”
Suddenly, Shepherd’s eyes flew open as his hand shot up out of nowhere, grabbing Wade’s gun out of the holster. The world moved in slow motion. The shocked sheriff fell onto his butt, scrambling away from the maniac with a gun. Shepherd lifted into the sitting position, his lips stretched so thin his bloody teeth showed. The gun in his hand pointed straight at me. No hesitation this time.
Six gunshots filled the room, only three originating from me. Shepherd’s body jerked with each burst of blood on his chest. His disbelieving eyes never left us, not even as he fell to the ground. He didn’t get back up. Ever. Luke and I lowered our guns in unison.
Some people just didn’t deserve a second chance.