Hearts Under Fire (22 page)

“Jeffrey, she’s going to need help to stay on. Just...”

“I got her, Prof. I can do this.” The fierce, if frightened words from the lithe boy made Daniel nod.

“Thanks. Go on; get her out of here,” Daniel said. They walked away and disappeared into the crowd of people headed out the main door.

Daniel nearly broke down right there, but the sound of a gunshot above his head brought him back with a vengeance. He made for the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the very top, he stopped, slowed, and cracked open the door.

Someone screamed, a siren of a wail that just kept going and going. A slap cracked, and a male voice said, “Shut up and get down.”

Clark. Daniel froze. That was Clark’s voice. What was he doing here already? Daniel checked his watch and realized it’d taken him a good seven minutes to get here. Clark had passed him.

Daniel pressed his forehead against the cool concrete wall. Daniel’s office was up here, along this corridor at the end of the building. Clark must have come up here to check for him after not finding him in the lounge.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Even if you little mice scamper in there, I’ll kill you anyway,” said a voice that sent shivers down Daniel’s spine and closed his vision down to a tunnel. He was
here
, and Clark’s low swearing made Daniel frantic. The killer was headed away from Daniel toward the T-intersection with the main hallway. Not looking this way.

Daniel took two slow, deep breaths, forcing his tunnel vision wider. Then he pushed the door open and walked into the hallway. He saw the killer reach the T, smoothly pivot, raise a gun in one hand, and fire.

The familiar grunt at the shot made Daniel go completely cold: ice cold, dead cold, as cold as he’d been when standing at his parents’ grave.

Daniel brought the block of metal up in both his hands, centered his stance, lined up the sights, and fired one, two, at the killer’s chest. Daniel was so focused on the target that he saw blood fly. The killer went down.

Daniel fell down, too, on his knees. He wished suddenly, wildly, that he’d been able to give himself to Clark, been able to surrender to Clark’s love as thoroughly and completely. But now Clark was dead, as dead as the bastard that Daniel had been too late to kill.

Too late...

“Drop your weapon!” a male voice barked, a growling, snarling command that inspired only the need to obey. It broke the deafening silence that followed the thud-crunch of Daniel’s knees on the cold hallway floor.

Daniel got himself together enough to say clearly, “I’m putting the safety on.” He pressed the switch and tossed the automatic before him, out of his reach. Following standard police procedure, Daniel automatically put his hands behind his head. The physically submissive posture made Daniel close his eyes, and the knowledge that everyone, including himself, was safe collided with his knowledge that Clark was dead. Daniel’s hard-held control finally shattered.

Before Daniel could even think of holding it back, he shocked himself by making a keening wail powered by all the rage, terror, and grief he’d kept in check. The sound shook Daniel’s body until he ran out of air, and he choked on a sob when a hard body tackled him.

Strong arms wrapped around Daniel’s torso and hugged him with a fierceness that screamed of protection and possessiveness. Hands gripped and pulled hard on Daniel’s clothing and physically moved him to the side of the hallway. It happened in less than two seconds, time enough for a slow blink or a rain shower of bullets. A cheek collided with Daniel’s, and a voice that was low and rough, yet capable of holding silk aloft in the air with its tenderness, spoke in Daniel’s ear.

“It’s okay,” Clark said in a rush. “I’m here. It’s over. Everything’s going to be all right, baby. I’ve got you.”

Shocked into silence, Daniel opened his eyes and shook so hard that he could do nothing but wrap his arms around Clark. Daniel gasped and then felt the tears spill down his face.

“Clark,” Daniel whispered. “You... you’re alive?”

***

Clark made soothing sounds and put himself between Daniel’s line of sight and the corpse behind them; Daniel didn’t need to see the evidence of his bloody heroism. With a quick turn of his upper body, Clark slid his weapon toward Daniel’s. Both hands now free, Clark tightened his arms around his lover and shifted so that he held Daniel off the floor and against him, one hand cradling Daniel’s head.

Rocking, Clark stroked Daniel’s hair and kissed his forehead with a soft press of lips that was at odds with the strength of the hold around Daniel’s body. “I’m alive. And so are you. You got the bad guy, everything’s over, and we’re safe.”

Turning into Clark’s body, Daniel shuddered, more tears spilling. “You are... I... I kept my promise, I just... I just thought I’d lost you to do it. Oh, God, Clark.” Daniel reached up with a bloody hand to pull Clark’s head down to his.

“I’m here,” Clark said, kissing Daniel again. “I love you, we’re fine, it’s over.” Tears began to stream down his face.

He’s okay.

Daniel had killed the bastard. Shot him dead.

Clark kissed Daniel with a harsh press of lips and a tongue that sank deeply into Daniel’s mouth. He braced Daniel’s head and made anxious noises as his brow furrowed and tears continued to fall from his eyes.

Daniel made a low sound of want, and Clark felt Daniel yield. Clark lost himself in the reality of the kiss between them, letting it reaffirm, soothe, ease them both. Clark hadn’t been too late, and Clark let the evidence overwhelm him: Daniel’s tongue against his, body pressed flush with his, breath on his face.

“You heroic idiot,” Clark muttered, teeth catching Daniel’s lower lip and biting, perhaps too hard, before he kissed the hurt away. “Can’t believe you...” He kissed Daniel’s upper lip and nose and cheek while his hands started to wander and grip Daniel’s clothing and skin and arms. “If you got hurt, I’d kick your ass, and...” Clark kissed tears away.

“Don’t you ever do this again,” Clark said harshly, shaking the man before locking his mouth over Daniel’s again.

Daniel chuckled into the kiss. “Yes, Clark. I sincerely hope I’ll never have to do this again.”

“You’re not hurt,” Clark said more than asked, feeling over Daniel’s body. He’d seen the way Daniel had moved in the hallway when Daniel went down, and concluded that the blood was probably someone else’s. But still he checked, touch skimming everywhere.

Shaking his head, Daniel watched Clark’s hands with fascination. “No,” Daniel answered. “My... uhm... ass is in one piece. Speaking of which... after what I just put us through.” He blushed and lowered his voice. “I... this is going to sound so weird, but... I wished... I wished I’d given you... well, would you want to take me tonight? Please?”

Clark’s head snapped left, and his gaze fixed on Daniel’s reddening cheeks. He blinked, bemused, and then cupped Daniel’s face with one hand, lips nearly touching. “Yeah,” he whispered, roughly. “After this... anything for you.” He carefully kissed Daniel again.

“Good,” Daniel whispered against Clark’s lips. “Good.”

Clark moved Daniel in his arms, thinking he was simply not going to let go. Ever again. He would hold this man -- or some part of Daniel -- from now on and make sure the professor never did anything that might result in bodily harm. At that moment, Clark didn’t care if he had to quit his jobs and spend his days sitting in Daniel’s office reading book after book while Daniel graded those damned papers. He would be there, and never again would he feel the helpless ache that made him want to vanish off the face of the earth at the thought of Daniel getting hurt. Even a paper cut was too damned much. Maybe he could get Daniel to wear gloves.

Behind the men, footsteps and calls of “Clear!” echoed in the hallway. Clark didn’t stop his tender kisses, and his arms tightened around Daniel as his senses told him people were filling in behind them. For a second, there was a near-tangible sense of confusion. He heard someone bark an order over a radio to get paramedics to the second floor. Footsteps paused, and nobody said a word. The radio crackled a ten-four, and then someone uttered a low laugh.

“Well, Bailey,” said a man’s gruff voice. “Something tells me your hopes of getting Danny Boy to date your daughter might be a little far-fetched.”

Clark blinked but continued to kiss Daniel, and he felt the quietest of chuckles from the man in his arms.

“Ya know,” said another voice. “I was noticing that, myself.” The second man cleared his throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but would you kindly cease and desist with the... er... comfort and tell me what the hell happened?”

***

Ignoring the sounds until he finished with the kiss, Daniel sighed and broke it. He almost wiped his face with his hands, but then remembered what was all over them, so he used Clark’s shirt. Daniel peeked out from under the protective shelter of Clark’s arms to meet the amused eyes of Adams, Bailey, and Sorenson.

Connor Adams had been his father’s partner and now treated Daniel like a son. So Daniel answered with respect. “Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. Shooter’s over there. I’m guilty. The handgun’s there, stole it from Bernard downstairs. You guys get him out okay? Had to tie off a bleeder.” Daniel’s eyes closed on that memory, but he opened them again and continued calmly. “I saw wounded coming out of the classrooms, the one security guard down, one girl downstairs. I followed the sounds up here, and he was firing when I got in range. Anything else you boys need to know? I’ll come with you, easy like, to the station and confess.”

Bailey -- a large man with a fringe of gray hair surrounding the pink dome of his head -- looked at Daniel with an assessing gaze. Then he grunted and looked at Clark. “And who the devil are you?” he asked.

“That’s Sergeant Maxwell Clark, sir,” said Adams. “Lucian’s man.”

Bailey grunted again. It was his standard affirmative noise. “And the chief’s, then, too.” Bailey sighed and smacked his lips, looking over the scene as paramedics and other people crowded into the hallway. Markers went up, orders relayed, and radios buzzed with chatter reporting the chaos that was still outside.

“Clean kill,” someone said. Clark hugged Daniel to his side, eyeing everyone as if daring them to do something he didn’t like.

Bailey turned back to the men on the hallway floor. “Son, you done your parents proud today. Way I figure? You killed this sonofabitch before he got to do more damage.” He pursed his lips and looked at Clark. “You,” Bailey ordered. “Get Danny downstairs.” He whirled. “Sorenson? Go with them and get ‘em through the mess down there.”

“Yes, sir,” said Sorenson, who immediately walked over to Clark and Daniel.

“Thanks, sir,” Daniel said shakily. He tried to get up, and his legs utterly failed him. He grinned uncertainly up at Sorenson and then over at Clark, and he put an arm over Clark’s shoulders.

Clark took Daniel’s weight and stood up with him. “Easy there,” Clark said quietly.

Sorenson looked bemusedly at Clark but said nothing, heading toward the stairwell at the end of the hallway. Relieved beyond measure that no one seemed to have an issue with Clark’s presence, Daniel wobbled and clung to Clark’s strength. “Guess I’m a little... tapped out,” Daniel said, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He wasn’t looking forward to the stairs, but thought about how he’d held Clark on the mountain. “Glad you’re here,” he added softly.

“I’m here and not going anywhere,” Clark said firmly. “Just take it slow.”

When they reached the stairwell, Clark paused before he said, “Sorenson,” in his military voice. The man jerked and blinked blue eyes at Clark. “Take his other side.”

“Yes, sir,” Sorenson said deferentially, and slid under Daniel’s other arm, steadying him. Once Sorenson was sturdy, Clark nodded and kissed Daniel’s temple.

“Take your time,” Clark said, the command in his tone gentler.

Daniel took a deep breath, feeling steadier with both men under his arms. Daniel completely missed the second step from the bottom, but his feet never touched the ground.

“There you go,” Clark said softly. “I’ve got him,” he said to Sorenson. The officer nodded and carefully relinquished Daniel to Clark, who wrapped both arms around Daniel in a hug.

“We’ll get him into a car at the perimeter,” Sorenson said.

“He needs to get off his feet,” Clark said firmly. “As soon as possible, and I’ll need crackers or water or something for him immediately.”

Sorenson blinked at Clark again. “Uh, sure. I’ll see what I can do?”

Clark nodded at the officer and then at the door to the outside. Dropping his voice, he said to Daniel, “Just lean on me and let me help you. Don’t worry about the noise or about trying to answer anybody.”

Daniel saw a press van outside. Hoping to calm Clark, Daniel kissed Clark’s cheek. His body still shivered out of his control. “All right. It’s easier concentrating on just you right now. I’m still so glad you’re alive. It’s a zoo out there. I’ll just let you handle whatever comes up.”

“Good thing,” Clark said wryly, and he kissed Daniel’s forehead. “Wasn’t going to give you much of a choice.” He laughed, and Sorenson got the door open for them.

Immediately sirens, screams, and shouting filled the air. Daniel heard someone on a bullhorn shouting at everyone to get back. He heard the whirl of a helicopter -- probably a news team or maybe police, Daniel wasn’t sure and didn’t bother looking up to check. Instead, he concentrated on Clark holding him and walked toward the nearest cruiser.

***

Clark managed to get Daniel halfway to the police car before a looming presence flanked them on the right.

“Clark,” said Isaac Whitaker, the chief of police. He stood two inches taller than Clark, had a shiny, shaved head, scars on one cheek from a fight with a petty thief who’d been too good with a switchblade, and carried himself like a moving mountain that would not be deterred by anything from weather to wailing women.

“Whitaker,” Clark replied, still moving and keeping his focus on Daniel.

“Is this the man?” the chief asked.

“Yes, sir.”