From the Heart

oak, he heard the dull thud. Dispassionately he saw splinters of bark fly out, inches from his shoulder.
    Close, he thought. Very close. But his brain was cool now. The man would know he’d botched the contract. Just as he’d know, if Slade’s luck ran out, that the police were involved. Slade’s gun and his shield would tell the pro all he needed to know.
    Patiently, Slade waited. Five eternal minutes became ten. The sweat was drying cold on his back. Neither man could move soundlessly, so neither moved at all, one laying seige to the other. A bird, frightened off by Slade’s mad rush into the grove, came back to settle on a limb and sing joyfully. A squirrel hunted acorns not ten feet away from where he stood. Slade didn’t think at all, but waited. The storm-brewing clouds closed in, completely blocking out the sun. Now the grove was cold and gloomy. Wind whipped through his loose shirt.
    There was a muffled sneeze and a rustle of leaves. Instantly Slade sprang out toward the sound, hitting the ground and rolling when he caught a quick glimpse of the man and the rifle. Prone, he fired three times.
     
    Jessica lay numbed by a fear icier than the wind off the Sound. That was all she could hear—the wind and the water. Once she had loved the sound of it, the howling wind, the passionate crash of water against rock. Staring up at the sky, she watched the clouds boil. With one hand she clutched Slade’s discarded jacket. The leather was smooth and cold, but she could just smell him. She concentrated on that. If she could smell him, he was alive. If she willed it hard enough for long enough, he’d stay alive.
    Too long! her mind shouted. It’s been too long! Her fingers tightened on the leather. He’d said he’d be back. She was going to believe that. With her fingertips, she touched her lipsand found them cold. The warmth he’d left there had long since faded.
    I should have told him I love him, she thought desperately. I should have told him before he left. What if . . . No, she wouldn’t let herself think it. He was coming back. Painfully, she shifted enough so that she could watch the beach steps.
    She heard the three rapid shots and froze. The pain in her chest snapped her out of it. Her lungs were screaming for air. Dimly, Jessica ordered herself to breathe before she scrambled up and ran. Fear made her clumsy. Twice she stumbled on her way up the steps, only to haul herself up and force more speed into her legs. She broke into the grove, skidding on cracked leaves and branches.
    Slade sprang around the moment he heard her. He was quick, but not quick enough to prevent her from seeing what he’d been determined she wouldn’t see. Jessica stopped her headlong rush into his arms, relief turning to shock and shock to trembling.
    Cursing, he stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “Don’t you ever listen?” he demanded, then pulled her into his arms.
    “Is he . . . did you . . .” Unable to finish, she shut her eyes. She wouldn’t be sick, she ordered herself. She wouldn’t faint. One of his shirt buttons ground into her cheek and she concentrated on the pain. “You’re not hurt?”
    “No,” he said shortly. This aspect of his life should never have touched her, he berated himself. He should have seen to it. “Why didn’t you stay on the beach?”
    “I heard the shots. I thought he’d killed you.”
    “Then you’d have done us both a lot of good rushing in here.” He pulled her away, took one look at her face, and yanked her back into his arms. “It’s all right now.”
    For the first time his tone was gentle, loving. It broke her down as his shouting and anger would never have done. She began to weep in raw, harsh sobs, the fingers of one hand digging into his shirt, the fingers of the other still holding his jacket.
    Without a word he led her to the edge of the grove. He sat on the grass, then drew her down into his lap and let her cryit out. Not knowing what else to do, he rocked, stroked, and murmured.
    “I’m sorry,” she managed, still weeping. “I can’t stop.”
    “Get it all out, Jess.” His lips brushed her hot temple. “You don’t have to be strong this time.”
    Burying her face against his chest, she let the tears come until she was empty. Even when she quieted, he stroked the hair from her damp face, rocking her with a gentle rhythm. The need to protect had long since stopped being professional. If he could have found the way, Slade would have