His jaw tightens even more. He looks away for a moment, considering my words. I use the momentary distraction to shove Jo, hard, toward the boathouse. She bolts for the door. She’s nearly there when Jaxon screams, “STOP!”
He’s pointing the gun at me again, advancing on us. Jo is frozen at my side, clear in the line of fire. I vault in front of her, flattening her back against the stone wall of the boathouse. I hear her gasp as the breath leaves her lungs in a whoosh of air.
There’s fury on Jaxon’s face as he closes the gap between us. I see my death in his eyes, my gruesome fate playing out on the pinpricks of his pupils like a tiny projector screen.
He’s going to kill me.
He’s really going to kill me.
“Jo,” I say.
One word.
The only word I have time to say.
I hope it’s enough.
I hope she knows what it means.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Jaxon takes aim.
His trigger-finger tightens.
I close my eyes.
The sharp flash-bang of gunfire never comes. Instead, there’s a dull sort of boom. When my eyes snap back open, Jaxon is lying on the grass in an unconscious heap of limbs. Standing over him is none other than Tommy Mahoney. He’s holding a wrench in one hand — which I presume he’s just used to bludgeon my brother — and Jaxon’s gun in the other. His toolbox sits by his feet.
“T-Tommy?” I stutter in disbelief.
I’ve never been so shocked to see someone in my life.
“Hey, kid.” His eyes flicker to Jaxon for a moment. “Assuming this is the brother I’ve heard so much about.”
I can’t form words. My brain seems to have short-circuited. The sirens are getting louder; the fire department will be here any moment.
Josephine plants her hands on my back and shoves her way to freedom. “God, you nearly flattened me,” she gasps, stepping out onto the grass. “I couldn’t breathe back there!”
“Next time I’m shielding you from gunfire, I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
She’s glaring fiercely. “Next time? There will be no next time! Unless I decide to kill you myself! What did you think you were doing, offering yourself up as a sacrifice? Trading your life for mine?” She smacks me on the arm. Beneath the thin veil of anger, I can see how scared she is — her whole body is trembling like a leaf in a gale. “You said you weren’t going to leave me! You promised!”
I reach for her, trying to pull her into my arms. I know as soon as I do, this facade of anger will crumble.
She dodges, still glaring at me. A petite blonde ball of pure fury. “Don’t you get it? You can’t leave. I just got you back.”
“Jo…”
“You’re not allowed to die, Archer Reyes! You’re not allowed to be the hero! Do you hear me?”
“I hear you, Jo.”
“That means no more bargaining with bad guys. No more acting like your life isn’t worth anything. No more hurling yourself in front of guns.” Her finger jabs into my chest with each new demand. “Swear to me!”
“Okay! Okay. I swear!”
She nods, satisfied.
Behind us, there’s a low chuckle from Tommy.
Peering around me, Jo smiles at him like they’re old friends. “Oh. Hey, Mr. Mahoney. Good to see you again.”
“Again?” I glance back and forth between the two of them. “You two know each other?”
“He’s the boat maintenance man,” Jo says, like it should’ve been obvious. She hooks her arm through mine, so our elbows lock together, and cranes her neck to grin up at me. “He’s been coming here every week, all summer long.”
I eye my old boss. “And you never told me.”
Tommy looks beyond pleased with himself. Beyond that, he looks undeniably proud. His eyes move back and forth between me and Jo, glinting with emotions I know he’ll never say aloud. “Told you, kid — every Superman needs a Lois Lane to keep him in line. Glad you’ve finally found yours.”
I shake my head, not sure whether to laugh or scowl.
Jo’s brows lift, but she doesn’t comment. “Lucky you were here today,” she tells him, coughing lightly. The smoke is still thick in the air, blowing toward us in relentless black puffs. “Thank you. You saved us.”
“I saw the fire through the trees when I pulled up out front. I got worried — no one was answering the intercom. So I called it into the station, then…” He shrugs sheepishly. “Rammed down your gate with my truck. Hope that’s not a problem.”
Jo laughs. “Not at all.”
He nods. “The front of the house was fully engulfed, so I came around the back…” His gaze moves to mine. “That’s when I spotted you down here with your brother. Didn’t look like a warm and fuzzy family reunion — at least, not to my old eyes. Thought you might need a bit of backup.”
I glance down at Jaxon’s unconscious form. “You thought right.”
Tommy pauses a long beat. His expression grows misty with memories. “I’m just glad I got here in time. When I was younger… there was a fire at my house. I lost everything. My entire family, gone in a blink.”
I gently detach my arm from Jo’s and walk toward him. His hands are occupied, still holding the gun and the wrench, but that actually works in my favor. He can’t do a damn thing to avoid it when I step forward and embrace him tightly.
“You have a family now, Tommy. We’re family.”
He doesn’t say anything, but that’s okay. He doesn’t have to. A gruff grunt escapes his mouth, followed by a muttered, “All right, all right, don’t make a fuss.”
I grin as I step back.
Jo’s hand creeps into mine. “The fire department is here.”
I glance up the slope of lawn. Sure enough, uniformed men are running around Cormorant House, doing their damndest to battle the flames. I doubt they’ll try for long — it’s a lost cause.
“Waste of water,” I murmur. My eyes find Jo’s. “I’m sorry. I know it’s your home.”
“That place was never my home. Let it burn. I won’t miss it.”
“Jo…”
“You’re my home,” she says simply. “You’re enough.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and press my mouth to hers.
“Well, well, well,” a smug voice calls, arriving on the scene. “It’s about damn time!”
I groan as I pull my mouth from Jo’s. Chris Tomlinson is jogging down the lawn, grinning like a crazy person. He whistles wolfishly. “You two crazy kids finally admit you’re ga-ga for one another?”
I roll my eyes. “Tomlinson, can you please focus?”
“Oh, I am.” He waggles his eyebrows.
Jo snorts softly. “I think he meant focus on the arrest, Chris.”
At Tommy’s feet, Jaxon is coming to. He moans pathetically, reaching up to rub his temple. There’s a massive red welt forming there — Tommy really clocked him.
“Should I hit him again?” Tommy asks.
“That won’t be necessary,” Chris says cheerfully, pulling out a set of handcuffs. “I can see the headlines now: MBTS Officer Chris Tomlinson cracks drug case after failed DEA manhunt. If this doesn’t get me off desk-duty, nothing will…”