The Missing

reflexes, and she couldn’t lift her own weapon in time.

    She heard the shot echo through the basement, felt the pain explode through her.

    Then everything else ceased to exist.

    “NO!” The word tore from Cullen as he watched Leon lift the gun. Yes. Fate was a serious bitch. Instinct had demanded he kill Leon, but the last time he’d let his rage dictate his every move, he’d shattered Taige. This time, he’d let her reach him, let her convince him to get the girl out, and because he hadn’t listened to his own instincts, she was going . . .

    No.

    No.

    He watched her fall, saw her eyes go wide.

    Until he had his arm around Leon’s neck, Cullen didn’t even realize he’d moved. He jerked the older man off his feet with a savage strength brought on by rage. He felt bone crack, felt Leon go limp. Then he let go. Leon’s gun had fallen from limp fingers, and Cullen, without thinking, stooped, grabbed it, and then turned, aimed between Leon’s wide, unseeing eyes, and pulled the trigger.

    There’d be no getting up this time.

    Dropping the gun, he ran to Taige’s side and fell to his knees. Her eyes were open, wide and glassy, her breathing coming in irregular, harsh gasps. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, Cullen covered the wound in her chest with his hand and pressed down against the flow of blood. The agony slicing through him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Cullen understood loss.

    But this wasn’t loss.

    This was death, hers and his own. If she died, she was going to take the better part of his soul with him. “Don’t die, baby,” he whispered. “Please don’t die.”

    As Taige’s breathing slowed, as her heart faltered under his hands, he died a little inside. “God, please,” he prayed, begging. “Don’t take her now. Not now.”

    IT hadn’t ever felt like this, Taige mused as the gray wrapped around her. Usually it was warm, almost comforting as it guided her along the paths she must follow. Even when it came on hard and strong, it wasn’t ever cold. It wasn’t painful. And always, she was filled with a certainty of what she had to do.

    But now? Although there was a new path before her, there was nothing comforting about it. Somehow she knew some ugly piece of hell didn’t await her at the end of this journey, but she didn’t want to go.

    It was cold, and as she drifted along, it grew colder. Darker. Behind her, she felt something warm. Then she heard a voice. His voice—the warmth of him, the strength of him. Cullen—

    He called her name, and she could feel him trying to reach her. If a person’s will alone could anchor somebody, his would do it.

    But then, right when she found the strength to reach for him, he was pulled away. Something intruded. Others came. She heard their voices, felt their presence. Chaotic confusion. More voices. God, the pain. It ate at her. Tore at her, ripped into her with jagged teeth and claws. The gray, as cold as it was, was better than this pain, and she retreated back into it, even though she could faintly hear Cullen’s voice, even though she could feel the presence of friends crowding around and reaching out to her.

    She drifted. It was cold, but it wasn’t that bad. Better than the pain. Much better.

    “WE’RE losing her!”

    Cullen heard the paramedic’s grim voice, and he fought his way through the medics and the federal agents. When Jones’s team had shown up, the agents had been forced to tear Cullen away so the medics could get to her.

    But now, nothing in hell was going to keep him away. He fought free, and when one of the men tried to grab him, he struck out. Pain flared up his arm, but he never noticed as he ran to Taige. Falling to his knees by her head, he cupped her face, bent down, and kissed her.

    They tried to pull him again, but he wouldn’t leave. “Come on, baby. Don’t do this to me,” he pleaded, pressing a desperate kiss to her cold lips.

    “Sir, you have to get away. Let us . . .”

    “No.” The woman’s voice was strong and certain. “Damn it, give him a minute. I can feel her.”

    Cullen didn’t even have the time to be grateful. The medics argued, but when the woman refused to back down, the rest of the agents gathered around, keeping them from Cullen.

    “Taige, you’re stronger than this,” he whispered, cradling her face. Dipping his head, he buried his face in her hair. Through the stink of blood and sweat, he could still smell her,