His lips pressed in a tight line as he traced the red bruise already forming and glowed in glaring contrast to her creamy skin. He had insisted on a top-grade bulletproof vest, disregarding Billy’s complaint that it would appear bulky. He had personal experience of the impact from a high-velocity bullet and needed to reduce the pain to Taylor as much as possible.
“I hope the impact didn’t cause any internal injuries,” he mumbled as he quickly dried her before he covered her with a blanket and sat down beside her. Apart from bruising, cracked ribs and internal organ damage was always a possibility when shot wearing an armored vest.
“Agh!” Taylor gasped as her eyes fluttered open.
“Easy, love. Don’t move, just try and breathe evenly,” Zeke coached as her eyes darted back and forth and she struggled to free her arms from the confines of the blanket.
“God, it hurts,” she wailed and tentatively touched the tender spot. She moaned as she pushed away Zeke’s hands and flung off the blanket. “Jesus,” she gasped and stared aghast at the dark bruise. “No fucking wonder I can barely breathe.”
She dragged in a couple of breaths and looked up to find the four Sinclair cousins hovering around the bed, watching her with concerned expressions. Zeke caught her hand in his and kissed her palm tenderly.
“It’s over, little one.”
“No, Zeke, it only just started. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment when the bullet hit my chest.”
Then the tears came, big gulping sobs that ripped through her body, leaving her shuddering. Zeke cursed as he wrapped her in his arms and rocked her, whispering soothing words in her ear until much later, the tears dried up and she fell into an exhausted sleep.
“We need to get her to a doctor, Stone.” Zeke laid her down and pulled the blanket over her. He kissed her cheek before he straightened. “I need to be sure there’s no internal injuries.”
“I already contacted Doctor Roy McCord. He’s on his way. She’ll be fine, Zeke. Billy’s bullet hit exactly where he intended, where he’d placed an additional protection plate.”
“Maybe so but what about her emotional state? I’m so fucking angry at myself for not taking that into consideration.” Zeke ran his hands through his hair as he looked at Shane and sought assurance from his older brother, who in his eyes, was the best psychologist in the State. “Tell me she’ll be fine, Shane.”
“I’ll be there for her, little brother, every step of the way. I promise you, together, we’ll get her through this.”
Zeke remained immobile as they all trailed out of the room, his gaze steadfast on the sleeping woman.
It had happened. Unexpectedly and too fast but he was man enough to embrace the feelings that had made him reel, physically and emotionally, when the bullet struck her.
In that moment, he knew he’d do everything in his power to protect her, even take a bullet in her stead. Now he wished it had been him and not her who had to endure the impact of such a traumatic experience.
It had been a chance meeting but one that sealed their fate. Choosing someone to be your friend is a choice. Falling in love with her was bound to happen and he acknowledged his destiny. In such a short time, it was her presence and her smile that painted his world.
For her, he’d kill … brutally and willingly die a thousand times.
Billy sighed as he cut the engine of the rental. He didn’t move; his gaze slid from the entrance of the restaurant to Burke Lake. This time of day it shone like the finest of mirrors, converting it to an image beautifully smudged and broken. The weeping willows, the clouds above, all came together in a canvas as beautiful as a Monet—free for the looking. Transient, changing by the day; almost like the feelings inside him.
“What a fucked-up life I’ve lived.” He listened to his hoarse voice and like so many times since he’d met his daughter, Ava, guilt slithered like a viper to take him down the old familiar path. He closed his eyes, refusing to walk it, to recount all the lives he’d taken, however much he justified his decisions at the time. He’d become quite apt at pretending he was the person her presence in his life made him want to be. He now chose to see himself in sepia tones, not the harsh colors depicting the cruelty and crime he had been so deeply involved in. If only he could swipe it from his mind.
“To what end, Hewitt?” he growled in the quiet, knowing it would defy the purpose of what makes him human. “You know the saying; those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
He sighed and opened his eyes. Pulling that trigger and watching Taylor being flung through the air and into the jacuzzi had been a revelation to Billy. He’d hated watching it and no matter that it was a setup, it reminded him of who and what he had become. It was a vision he’d come to hate off late and refused to ever covet again. For one, he wouldn’t be able to bear it if Ava walked out of his life. He’d just found her and she filled every crevice of his heart. He had over thirty years to make up with her and to do that, he had to keep his eyes on the horizon and his mind tuned to creating a positive future.
“Getting rid of SPEONUS might be the only chance I’ll get at redemption.”
He got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant. It would never make right the wrongs but at least he could do everything in his power to keep his little girl safe.
Like every time he walked down the long steel walled hallway he was amused at the soft classical music piping softly in the background. It was soothing and relaxing in complete contrast to what was hidden behind the titanium walls.
“What a fucking mockery,” he sneered as he exited the elevator taking him below ground level and stepped into a maze of titanium rooms. He ignored the energetic buzz of the operators in the sunken operation center as he strode toward the massive boardroom that was separated by a glass wall. His expression turned dark as he recognized the four people watching him approach. He walked inside with confidence oozing from his frame. Each pair of eyes glimmered with a varying degree of suspicion, fear, and surprisingly, even respect. Of course, that came from Sergei Ivanon, which was to be expected. An assassin himself, he thrived on tales of death and destruction.
“You're late,” Kezzler snapped. His lips turned slightly down at the edges as Billy ignored him and took his usual stance of leaning negligently against the wall. It filled Billy with pleasure to notice him visibly cringe in the chair as he cast a dead eye look at him.
Fucking piss-ant prick. Boisterous with no backbone.
He was the kind of man Billy had no respect for, Yale too for that matter. When the soul was alive the madness of the selfish man became crystal clear, of who they were as desperate men filling a bottomless sack, always with the panic in their hearts, ever seeking more. When the soul sang there was no sack, nor reaching hands, because the eyes saw so much more. When the soul reached out it was to nature and beauty, to the hearts and souls of others, finding solace and comfort.
These four fucktards had no souls, at least not the kind that cared about anyone or anything but themselves and the power they wielded over those weaker in character. If it was the last thing Billy did, it was to ensure there would be a world left so those with pure souls could enjoy and sing to the sanity of love until the entire country was one chorus.