CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Spitting up a Bullet

Back in the real world, there were only distant voices at first. Military men barking orders far away. I was in a wheelchair and being pushed with haste. A sheet covered my face and I reminded myself to make my breath shallow. Whatever was going on, I felt strongly that it was in my best interest to go along with it and to stay still. Opening my eyes, I could see the outline of the windows in the front entrance.

Suddenly, the chair stopped. I saw the outline of two men approaching. Then I heard Charles’ voice. “The army guys are coming,” he said. “There’s nowhere to run, Christian.”

“Except, I’m going out the front door, because it doesn’t matter if you shoot me, but it’s going to matter a lot if I shoot you. Get out of the way.”

Through the cloth, I saw the receptionist step out of the way, but Charles paused, hesitating.

“Whatever,” Christian said emotionlessly before he shot Charles.

The receptionist moved to shoot Christian, but Christian shot him too. I didn’t twitch and I didn’t make a sound. Neither of them was dead, as they wriggled on the floor. Christian moved from behind me and kicked their guns out of their reach before bending to take a set of keys from Charles. Once they were in hand, he returned to the wheelchair and wheeled me out of the building.

Outside, he pressed the unlock button on the keychain to point out which vehicle he could take. He wheeled me across the gravel and just like I was that little girl in the hospital bed, he lifted me and placed me in the backseat. He didn’t check my pulse or make sure I was okay. He simply set me inside and got in the driver’s seat.

I pulled the sheet off my face. There was blood on my face, seeping from my wound and my nose. “How did those guys keep you captive before?” I chirped. “They seem like pushovers.”

Christian jumped. He turned back and saw me lying on the backseat. I saw at a glance how messed up he was. He was sweating and red in the face. I had never once seen Christian sweat before. He was trying to hold it back, but he was crying. I realized that when he wheeled me out of the building, he didn’t know if I was okay. His heart still beat inside my chest, but it probably would have continued to beat even if I were dead. Men only cried in my world when someone was dead.

“I’m okay,” I whispered. “The bullet is lodged in my esophagus.”

He reached out to touch the blood on my face. The blood from my forehead parted on my nose bridge into two streams and the blood from my nose clotted in a blotch on my upper lip. "You're beautiful," he said, getting emotional. “So very beautiful.”

Just as Brandon foresaw, there was blood on my face, and Christian was finally mine. I reached out to touch him.

Movement out the back window caught his attention. I sat up and peeked over the seat. Army men were beginning to spill out the front doors, but none of them were firing at us. One stood in the forefront talking on a walkie talkie. His hand signal ordered the men to stand down, but why?

“Can you spit it out?” Christian asked me, starting the SUV and moving it onto the road.

To my surprise, I could spit it out and immediately did so. “Here it is,” I said, pushing my palm between the two front seats and showing it to him.

He wiped his forehead and held his hand to his mouth as he got a grip on himself. “Good girl,” he praised as he merged onto the highway and picked up speed.

I pushed myself between the seats and sat next to him. “Why do you think they let us go?” I asked, trying to close the window in the passenger seat, only to realize that the window didn’t close, because Brandon had shot out the window a few hours earlier.

Christian flipped his hand like it wasn’t important. “Because they were mercenaries and I already killed the man who was paying them.”

“You killed Dr. Hilliar?”

“Yes, and your father,” he said, staring with dead eyes onto the road in front of us. “That’s the gun,” he said, pointing to the pistol propped barrel-down in the cupholder between us. “That’s the gun he shot you with.”

I looked at it, but did not touch it. I did not feel like crying or mourning. A man who was willing to play chicken by shooting his own daughter in the head was not a man I would claim as my father. He had been hopelessly poisoned by greed and I felt relief wash over me that the problem was buried.

“It’s a wonder you didn’t get gun-happy when they cut Brandon’s head off,” I said.

“That is to be avoided… as often as possible. Easier to do when I haven’t had time to calm myself and talk myself into rationality. Undoubtedly, I’ve killed people before. I don’t remember doing it, but my hands do and my reflexes do. And you…” he said, turning to look at me. “You’re alive. It’s a miracle and a catastrophe.”

“Aren’t you a little bit pleased?” I asked hopefully.

“I am,” he said, glancing at me with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “But first things first. We need to get rid of this car. I have a Nissan Micra we can pick up.”

“Is it far?”

“Other side of Edmonton. We’ll ditch this and get a cab once we’re in the city.”

“Where can we go?” I whispered, unsure about the future. “What will we do?”

“It’s going to be okay, Beth,” he said, putting his hand on mine.

I glanced around, not knowing where to look. “I can’t tell Felicity-Ann that I’m okay before we go on the run, can I?”

“You must. One of the problems with being us is that if we disappear without a trace, that gets noticed and people get curious. You can call her when we stop.”

I groaned. “What should I tell her? Not the truth!”

“It doesn’t matter what you tell her as long as she knows you aren’t coming back and that you’re safe.”

“What would you tell her?”

He pulled a face. “Something definitive. Something you will not want to tell her. I’d tell her that you’ve been sleeping with Rogan and you just found out you’re pregnant. Tell her you’re sick with the pregnancy and even though you and Rogan are not a couple, and never have been, you’re going to stay with his mother for the time being because you have no parents and she’s going to help you raise the baby.”

“Where is the real Rogan Cormack?’ I suddenly asked.

“Half the year, he works the oil fields and the other half, he travels. To my knowledge, he’s gotten two women pregnant, so we won’t be smearing his name.”

“He sounds awful. Why did you decide to be him?”

“Because he’s handsome and whatever I did, I wasn’t going to ruin his life. In a few months, you can email Felicity and tell her you had a miscarriage and decided to move back to Toronto. Rogan’s mother lives in Winnipeg, so you don’t need to worry about Felicity-Ann coming to find you.”

“What about Trinity? Don’t you think she’ll come looking for me?”

“It would be sweet if she did, but she won’t. She already moved on with her life. That’s the way this works, and one of the reasons why it will be painful to live forever. Everything here is temporary, except us.”

“But I’ll be able to watch out for her children in the future and be a guardian for them, won’t I?”

Christian let his breath out slowly. “That was what I thought. Your great-grandfather, Forrester, was one of my best friends. I just shot his grandson in the head, threw his dead body thoughtlessly on the floor, and stole his wheelchair.”

That did sound bad, spoken on its own that way. I bit my lips together and refused to speak for a bit.

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Finally, he said quietly, “Do you want to get married before we go to bed tonight?”

“Can we?”

He nodded. “It won’t be fancy like Trinity’s wedding.”

I snorted. Trinity’s wedding had not been fancy and I said as much.

“Yes, but weddings that take place quickly mean that we’ll be rushed and it will be the furthest thing from romantic. I’ll get you out of those blood-soaked rags, but nothing about our wedding will be the wedding of your dreams. Unless you’re like me and believe in wedding vows completely, that we’ll be each other’s through everything, and then it will be everything we need.”

“That’s what I want.”

He looked at me with his gray-green eyes, and I felt he would have stopped the car and kissed me, fell on his knee to propose to me properly, but we were on the run and there wasn’t time. His eyes promised that there would be time. Later that night, after we had checked all the boxes, by abandoning the SUV, calling Felicity-Ann, getting a car that would be safe to drive, getting to the courthouse to get married and eventually stopping for the night.

He let go of the steering wheel with his right hand and reached for me. My hand touched his fingers and I held them the rest of the way to Edmonton.

***

Christian stopped the SUV in front of an office building with boarded windows. He let go of my hand and cut the ignition. Leaving the keys in, he got out and came around to meet me at my door.

Carefully, he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood from my face. He didn’t do a good job, but I saw that I looked less alarming in the side view mirror.

“You know,” he said, taking me in his arms in a way that was completely different from how he had touched me at any other time. “My selfish side is really going to enjoy this.” He bent his head low and I felt the angle of his arm enclose me.

The kiss he gave me was not like our other kisses had been, shrouded in the other faces he wore. He was not Christian Henderson, not pretending to be Charles Lewis or Rogan Cormack. He was himself, and he was letting the guard he had kept up all those years slip. He kissed me softly like I was the dearest thing he had ever known. It was that feeling that made him give his heart to me.

I felt the secrets between us vanish like smoke.

Then, he seemed to have a thought. I felt his hands under my shirt as he quit kissing me and turned me around. He pulled my shirt up and bent to look at my back. His fingertips were on the place that had been cut.

“You've done well healing it this fast. There’s still a scar,” he murmured. “It will fade faster if you concentrate on healing it.”

“Do I have to go to the Red Forest to do that?”

He shrugged. “The Red Forest? Just wish the mark would disappear. I’m sure it worked that way when your surgery scars disappeared.” He tugged on my collar and looked down the front of my shirt.

Instinctively, I pushed his hand away and he let the fabric fall back into place.

“See? That’s all gone,” he said with a grin. “And you’re going to need to get used to that.”

I sighed, wished I hadn’t gotten so defensive with him taking a peek at my chest, and unconsciously touched my forehead. There was a scar there too, but the wound had closed. I supposed it would go away too. “Is it noticeable?”

He nodded. “I can cut you some bangs before the wedding. It’s probably faster than teaching you how to change your face.”

He slid his arms around me and pointed me down the sidewalk. He told me he was taking me to a coffee shop and dipped to kiss the side of my face. All the time we walked, he stopped and kissed me at every interval he could. Briefly, he slid his fingers into my hair, under my clothes, and massaged my shoulders as we walked. He took my fingers in his and kissed each one of them like he’d wanted to do it for ages and had only now allowed himself the pleasure.

At the coffee shop, he bought us sandwiches and ducked out again to buy a cell phone from the store next door. I had no idea he knew Edmonton so well that he could find everything he needed within walking distance once he dropped off the vehicle. When he returned, he had a phone.

“I’m going to call for a taxi with this. There’s a phone in the corner you can use to call Felicity-Ann, so it won't show our new number on her caller ID. I’ll give you five minutes to explain, then you’ve got to say goodbye.”

“And I can explain any way I want to?” I asked hesitantly as I moved over to the phone.

“As long as you don’t tell her anything that might make her curious about where you’ve gone.” As he said those words, one of his hands brushed his forehead, while the other snaked around his torso to rub his back.

I knew what he was saying. I was different now and I couldn't say goodbye in person. I dragged my feet the rest of the way to the phone. I picked up the receiver and paused because I didn’t know her number.

Christian was by my side in a moment. His hand was over mine on the number pad as he carefully entered in the ten digits. He knew the number.

The phone rang and rang. No one answered. The beep came and I said my piece, “Hi, Felicity-Ann, it’s Beth. I know you’re really worried about me. I’m okay, but I can’t come home. There’s been a family emergency and I can’t explain. Sell my stuff and keep the money. You were a great roommate.”

Christian leaned in and said in Rogan’s voice, “Congratulate her and Gibson for me.”

“What?”

“They’re a couple. Didn’t she tell you?”

I turned back to the receiver and said something I never thought I’d say. “Way to keep a secret, Felix! Gibson’s a great guy. Please tell him I won’t be back to work. Thanks for everything,” I said, before I leaned in and whispered. “I want you to pass something onto Trinity for me. Tell her that Christian needs me and I had to go. Tell her I’m well, that I love her, and that I… I hope she has a perfect life with Brighton.”

It took all my strength to replace the receiver because as I did so, I gave up Trinity, Felicity-Ann, Gibson, everything that I had, everything I’d been working for and, actually I said goodbye to the version of myself that I had been.

Christian was all angles when I turned back to him. He was hovering over me with his elbow leaning against a wall and his hand gripping the back of his neck. His other hand was free and he reached for me, catching me, because I was about to fall.

“I don’t think I said everything I needed to,” I whispered into his chest.

He stroked my hair. “You weren’t going to be able to say everything. You’re just going to have to trust that Trinity knows you and loves you well enough that she can say whatever needs to be said to assuage Felicity-Ann’s feelings. I, for one, think she’ll do well.”

And then I cried.

***

Christian had the taxi stop a block away from the house where the car was parked.

“Where are the keys?” I asked as we padded down the sidewalk. We were in a rather ritzy area. It was not gated, but each of the houses spoke of wealth and taste. It seemed a million miles from where we had been earlier that day at the compound.

“They’re in the shed. I used to rent a suite in the attic here as Rogan before I got the apartment down the hall from you. We need to hurry if we’re going to make it to the mall and the courthouse before they close.”

“We’re going to a mall?” I gasped.

“We both look like crap. I look ex-military and you look…” he hesitated.

There was rust-colored blood all over the back of my shirt. I wasn’t even wearing a coat. No one had paid much attention to the bloodstains on my clothes at the coffee shop. It had been dimly lit and people up north often looked rough. Not that rough, but no one had been looking very closely. I should have been wearing a coat to cover my back.

“Like you just murdered me?” I supplied.

“Sure,” he said, looking around the hedge. “I know the people here. I’ve been paying them to let me park the car, but I’d like it if they didn’t see you. They’re likely to be more curious about who I’m with than any of the people we’ve seen. Stay here.”

“Can I watch you change into Rogan?” I blurted, looking into his face expectantly.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t. I’ll change it on my way up the drive. Just wait here. I’ll only be a second.”

He had been touching me the whole time, kissing me in the backseat of the cab like the driver wasn’t there. I’d been kissing him, letting my fingers dance on the back of his neck, and pinching myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

As he stepped out of sight, I was breathless and overwhelmed. Even though it was still summer, I felt a chill when he stepped away from me and took his body heat with him. As he rounded the corner, I felt cold. Maybe even afraid. I told myself it was normal. It had been a big day, being betrayed by my only living relative, the shock my body had received when I’d been shot. I started to wonder if there were scars inside my head where the bullet had traveled, the way there were scars on my skin.

I stood there, holding my arms tightly across my chest and waited. He was taking too long. I started counting to gauge the time. I counted to a hundred six times and realized the counting wasn't working. I could count several numbers in one second. My panic was rising. Why wasn’t he back? If I hadn’t been bloodstained, I would have gone up to the house to see what was keeping him.

Instead, a police cruiser quietly drove up beside me and stopped. I hadn’t even noticed it before it was too late to hide.

“Beth Coldwell?” the driver said as he got out of the car.

I didn’t know what to do. Should I run? Should I talk to them? What? I just stared, until both officers had got out of the cruiser and approached me. “What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Has there been an incident?” he asked, looking at my clothes.

“Nothing,” I said, knowing it sounded ridiculous and cursing myself for not being able to think of anything better to say.

“Are you aware that every officer in the city has been looking for you for two days?” the other one asked.

“I wonder why,” I said blankly.

The first one spoke again. “We’re going to need to bring you to the station with us.”

“No, you don’t. I’m fine. Just tell whoever’s interested that I’m fine. You saw me. Everything is cool.”

“What are you doing here?” the second officer said, getting out a notepad and scratching off a few notes.

“Excuse me. Are you here to get me? You weren’t patrolling?” I asked.

“A lady across the street saw you and made the call. A girl splattered in blood loitering might make some people nervous.”

“Well, she needn’t have worried and needn’t have bothered you. I’m fine. I’m just waiting.”

“For what?”

The other cop glanced at his partner. “It doesn’t matter. Take her.”

The second officer put his notepad back in his pocket and to my ultimate surprise, I was dragged kicking and screaming into the back of their cruiser. One of them followed me into the back and a heartbeat later, I had a wad of smelly cloth shoved up my nose. The last thing I saw before I passed out was a scar that encircled the man’s neck. Brandon?

Then nothing.