Dawn of Forever (Jack & Jill #3) (36 page)

“No.”

“That’s a shame. You really should have taken more interest in her hobbies. Then maybe she wouldn’t have left you. Aw … here’s another good one.” She held up a photo of AJ and Jillian next to his Jeep. Her arms and legs wrapped around his body as they kissed.

It was the day they left for Portland and she told AJ to kiss her like he fucked her. She could still taste his lips … feel his tongue.

“How do they look together?”

Jillian clenched her jaw, but said nothing. It wasn’t her turn to speak. Luke showed no reaction. His face still entirely Dr. Jones—neutral, professional, unattached.

“Desperate.”

Irene turned, holding the photo closer to Jillian. “Were you desperate in this photo?”

“Yes.” It was the truth.

“What about here?” She held up another picture, showing it only to Jillian.

There it was, the end. Jillian looked at the photo and then at Luke. When she blinked the tears came out, an apology to Luke for what he was about to see. Irene was right, psychological torture inflicted wounds far worse than anything physical.

“I love you.”

Irene whipped her head around. “Dr. Jones. It’s not your turn to speak.”

Cutter guy unsheathed his knife.

“Stop! I’m sorry, I won’t say it again!”

The tip of the blade punctured Jillian’s skin along her temple, blood ran down the side of her face. Dr. Jones vanished. The man before her lost all composure as tears filled his red, angry eyes.

He had no idea how much she needed those three words.

“Say it again,” Jillian whispered.

Luke shook his head.

“Say. It. Again.”

He continued to shake his head. Irene’s eyes flitted between them, enjoyment danced in her smile.

As psycho bitch turned to show the photo to Luke, Jillian let out a strangled sob. “Please…” more tears spilled over “…say it one more time.” She needed to hear it because she knew it would be the last time he would ever say those three words to her.

Pain contorted his face as he continued to shake his head. “I love you.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the knife carved a new valley in Jessica’s skin above her shoulder blade.

She felt nothing but the resonance of Luke’s words in her heart.

“Can you still say that?” Irene asked, showing Luke the photo of AJ fucking Jillian.

It was the day she took off on her motorcycle and he followed her to an abandoned dirt road atop a bluff overlooking the city. She was so angry with him for his venomous words. It was a turning point in their relationship. How could she not have known someone followed her … took pictures of them? AJ stood with the door open, pants and briefs at his ankles. She sat sideways in the passenger’s seat, legs spread wide to accommodate his body, her hands clawing his back, her brow tense, eyes closed, jaw slack.

Everything drained from Luke’s body—his blood, his dignity, his past, his whole life.

Defeat.

It no longer mattered who lived and who died. Irene won. She ruined Sunny’s precious daughter. She found Jillian’s weak point and drove a dagger into it.

“Did you enjoy fucking AJ?” Irene asked Jillian, keeping her attention on Luke.

Cutter guy stepped closer to Luke.

“Yes,” she said, her voice weak.

So much betrayal lived in Luke’s eyes.

“Did you love AJ?”

The knife would hurt him less. Would Luke understand that?

It didn’t matter because Jillian didn’t want to deny her love for AJ. They shared something life-changing and saying otherwise would tarnish his memory.

“Your brother’s antsy trigger finger just put a bullet in the head of my knife-wielding friend’s girlfriend. He’s ready to kill all of you. I wouldn’t push him.”

He jerked Luke’s head back and pressed the tip to his carotid.

“Yes. I loved AJ.”

Luke’s eyes shut. A lone tear bled from his right eye.

Knox frowned. It was possible he felt Luke’s pain, the kind that came from losing
the one
, the one that was supposed to be
forever
.

“Up.” Irene nodded to her disgruntled accomplice.

He dragged Luke to his feet. Jillian used what little energy she had left to fight her restraints. “Where are you taking him?”

“Fishing.”

“Luke!” Jillian screamed until more blood came up with a coughing fit. “He’s … he’s …” her voice died.

The door slammed shut.

“Yes. Jackson’s going to kill him to save you.” The resolution of Knox’s words filled the air and buried her alive.

Jillian rolled to her side, the cold concrete pressed to her cheek.

Protocol.

Irene would use Luke as bait to get Jackson to surrender.

He wouldn’t.

Never surrender.

Shoot one hostage to make a point and save ten more.

Jackson was selfish. He wanted Jillian alive at all costs. He’d take her broken and desolate as long as she was alive.

“While you were self-absorbed in your own dysfunctional life, one foot in G.A.I.L. one foot out, Jackson killed and he was good at it.” Knox nodded. “Better than anyone. Everything has to be black or white. Gray is nothing more than hesitation. He’s alive … and so are you because he never hesitates.”

“J
ones … you suicidal
fucker.” Jackson watched through his scope as Luke inched into the front yard.

No one else was in sight, yet there had to be another gun pointed at Luke’s back.

Protocol.

Shoot the hostage. Always call their bluff and then attack.

“I warned you, Jones.”

“Are you willing to die for her?”

“Yes.”

The target didn’t get any easier. Luke stood completely still, a red dot marked the spot where the bullet would end his life. Jackson took a slow breath. Claire’s dead body flashed in his head.

“Let it go,” he whispered. A bead of sweat rolled down his face.

Luke closed his eyes, a complete surrender.

“Are you willing to die for her?”

“Yes.”

Jackson wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm then repositioned, the laser finding its target again.

“Take the shot.”

Jessica in her wedding dress.

“I’m just a girl with Luke. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel safe with him … when we’re not together I don’t feel alive. It’s like I’m holding my breath.”

AJ.

“I need some time alone to figure out if I can forgive you, because right now what you did feels unforgivable.”

Ryn.

“There’s nothing about you I couldn’t love … if you just let me.”

“Fuck!” Jackson pulled back, the rifle falling to his lap as he tried to catch his breath.

He tossed it aside and got out. With each step he felt his pulse thundering in every single vein. As he crossed the street he unfastened his vest and tossed it in the yard a few feet from Luke, followed by his weapons belt.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Luke opened his eyes. “Why?”

“I’d rather she love me in Hell than hate me on Earth.”

*

“Move your arms
and legs.”

Jillian blinked. Cobwebs under the bottom stair came into focus.

“I beat you. I raped you. I sodomized you. I stole your innocence. But. You. Fucking. Survived. Move your arms and legs, goddammit.”

She grunted and her arms moved, a lot.

“You don’t have much time. Get yourself free. Kill or be killed.”

Jillian rolled to her back and wriggled, tugged, and pulled in every direction. Weight loss plus daily drenching had loosened the duct tape. Her legs were still zip-tied but her wrists were not. Irene had to tape them to her sides in order to get the IV in.

“They’re coming.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“They’re going to kill everyone. Do it for Luke. Do it for Jude. Do it for Claire.”

Knox had always been ruthless with his motivation. Mentioning Claire was a low blow.

She freed one arm and then the other, ripping out the IV. She was too weak to break the ties around her ankles.

“Take out the guy first.”

She glared at him, waiting for him to acknowledge that she was naked, bound at the ankles, battered, bleeding, and strong as a corpse.

“But Irene—” She coughed, not sure if he could hear her voice that was non-existent.

“No. The guy. She won’t kill you. She doesn’t have it in her, that’s why he’s here. He’ll kill you. The arrows.” He nodded to the table. “They’re razor tips.”

Jillian dragged her body along the concrete floor. Even using the arrow to cut the ties proved to be difficult. She had no strength. Once her legs were free, Knox nodded to the table. “Drink.”

Jillian grabbed the half-empty bottle of water and drank it down, burning the whole way.

Just as she moved to help free Knox, footsteps neared the door.

He shook his head. “Leave me.”

She hated him and the pictures were still on the floor to remind her why, but for a brief moment she felt the unwelcome emotion of sorrow. “You…” she swallowed, even whispering hurt “…confessed.” Her reference was to his admitting that he raped her.

Knox shrugged. “When I see my angel, I want to be able to tell her I tried to right my wrongs. I’m sorry, Jessica.”

The door opened. Jillian pulled herself to standing, three razor-tipped arrows fisted in her right hand. She held her head high and took slow, deep breaths to keep from passing out as she hid around the corner. Everything felt weak, including her pulse. She didn’t know if she had the strength to kill him. Either way, she’d die trying.

“My eyes.”

Jessica nodded.

Four blinks. Her target would be the fourth one to come down the stairs. Knowing where Irene fell in the lineup would have been nice, but she’d improvise. Her heart found some life, pumping blood to her extremities. Four blinks. Four people. Luke was alive.

He rounded the corner first, stopping when his eyes met the empty spot where she had been. Knox shook his head a fraction. Luke didn’t speak. Irene shoved him, sending him to the floor before Jillian’s absence came into her line of sight.

“Where the hell—”

Jackson saw Jillian first. His eyes made a quick scan of her body. The master at showing no emotion had murder in his dark eyes.

Knight met Day.

The gravity of her time in captivity mixed with AJ, Luke, Knox, and their parents—it was too much.

Life was too much.

Day faded into night … into complete darkness.

*

No more games.

No more trying to save everyone.

The photo of her made Jackson’s stomach roil, guilt flared in his conscience seeing her standing there a mere skeleton—sunken eyes, bloodied flesh contrasting ghostly skin, her body shaking to the point he could almost hear her bones vibrating.

Life slowed to a crawl. Jessica’s breath caught. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her withered body faded to the ground. If that was her last breath … everyone would die.

Jackson didn’t have to think. Jude was back. Instinct took over.

The guy with the guns was disarmed, a bullet in his brain in less than five seconds. The woman Jackson knew as Meredith Baker, his piano student who should have died in Omaha, lunged for her bow and arrows scattered by his sister’s limp body.

Bang.

Blood from her head pooled around Jillian’s hand. He stepped toward Luke and Knox then stopped, lifting his foot to see what he’d stepped on. His brows drew together, eyes narrowing as the image registered.

Knox McGraw raping Jessica.

The muscle in his jaw ticked like a bomb counting down. He drew his head up. Knox’s eyes shifted from the picture to Jackson.

Bang.

Dropping the gun to the floor, he squatted down and retrieved a knife from his boot.

“Hurry,” Luke said, keeping his eyes on Jessica.

Jackson cut him free.

Luke lunged for Jessica, feeling for a pulse. “Get an ambulance, now!”

Jackson sprinted past Luke as he pinched Jessica’s nose and breathed into her mouth. He left his phone in the Escalade, which felt a million miles away because his sister. Wasn’t. Breathing.