She aimed straight at my chest. “You deserved everything you got. I want you to feel my pain.” Her finger tightened on the trigger.
“Erin, please,” I begged for my life.
“Vera Richland, I have determined you are no longer fit for purpose. Your use-by date has expired. One of us must die.”
She stepped closer, her finger tensing on the trigger, and smiled. “And I choose you.”
Alistair moved before I even had time to breathe. One second, the gun was aimed at me. The next, his body slammed into mine, knocking me to the ground. The crack of the gunshot split the air. My scream tore out as he shielded me.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered with a weak smile, then collapsed, sliding against a chair before hitting the floor.
“Alistair, please.” I dropped to my knees, gathering him into my arms, my tears soaking his shirt.
The door burst open, two armed officers storming inside. Frank Berry and Constance Fraser swept the room in seconds. Erin stood frozen, gun limp in her hand, her face twisted in shock. Frank wrenched the weapon away and dragged her out while she screamed Alistair’s name like a banshee.
“Get an ambulance here. Now,” Constance called out.
All I could focus on was the man bleeding in my arms.
Alistair Bryce Scott took a bullet for me.
LIVE FOR LOVE
Vera
“Alistair, we’re getting help. An ambulance is on its way,” Constable Fraser assured, kneeling by his side.
“Scotty, speak to me,” I pleaded. I was about to unbutton his shirt to see the wound when he placed his warm hand on mine.
He groaned, then smiled wearily. “Sweetheart, did I ever tell you I love you?
“All the time,” I said, holding onto hope. “I love you, too.”
“Alistair, how are you feeling?” the police officer asked. Loose strands of her dark curly hair, hastily tied in a bun, fell on her face when she lowered her head to examine him.
“I’m in shock and pain right now, Constance. But why were you and Frank late?” Alistair asked, gazing at the officer.
“We got here as fast as we could, but the traffic at this time of the year is shit, even when we used the siren,” Constance said, referring to the masses of people driving into town for their Christmas shopping.
“Where are you hurt?” I searched Alistair’s eyes. I was not ready to lose him. I needed him alive.
“Do you have faith in me?” he asked, attempting to grin before wincing in pain.
“Yes, I do, Scotty,” I answered, squeezing his hand.
“Alistair, can you show me where the pain is?” Constance asked.
He pointed at his lower chest and nodded at me as I began to unbutton his shirt. Why wasn’t he bleeding where the bullet tore through his shirt?
“My God.”
A concealed vest revealed itself to me after I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the fabric aside. The bullet lodged itself in the vest, which hugged his slim frame.
“That shot knocked the wind out of me,” Alistair rasped as he glanced down at the impact.
One of the officers helped me peel off his shirt and ease the vest away. Alistair winced, but he stayed upright.
“I’ll live,” he said, flashing me a strained grin. “But I’ll be wearing one hell of a bruise.”
