Last Chance Hero

“Nothing. As long as you give me the phone.”

He saw her hand tighten on the device. Then she slipped it behind her back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

A surprising blush—delicate and lacy—crept up her face. “Did you think I’d just hand it over?”

“Well. I don’t remember you being particularly unreasonable.” He closed the gap between them in three easy steps.

“A lot can happen in ten years.”

He ignored the sting brought on by the comment. “The phone. Please.”

“No.”

“Giving it to me before the guy downstairs wakes up would be ideal.”

“Calling the police before he wakes up would be even better,” she retorted.

With a sigh, he reached around her to take it. She moved to sidestep the grab, but Donovan was quicker. He slammed his arms up to the wall, blocking her in.

“The phone,” he said again.

“The police.”

“Not happening.”

“If you think I’m going to keep your secret, you’ve got another think coming.”

“If you don’t keep it, everyone I’ve ever cared about—everyone you currently care about—will be in danger.”

“Let me guess. You want me to trust you about that, too.”

“Yes.”

She lifted her face and met his gaze with a challenging glare. “Is that your plan, then? Return from the dead, save my life, then just assume I’ll fall into place?”

“My plan is to get you out of here before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what, specifically?”

“Too late for us to get away from the guys who know now that I’m not dead. Who know you’re the only reason I’d expose myself. Jordynn. Give me the damned phone.” Donovan slid one of his hands to her back and found her wrist, intent on just taking the phone. But at the contact, a responding zap of heat slid to his palm. It flowed through his forearm and up again, settling in his chest. It expanded out, searing his heart and drawing full attention to how close together they stood. Just inches apart, in fact.

Donovan’s fingers were on the phone, its cool exterior a sharp contrast to the warmth everywhere else. But he couldn’t actually make himself take it. He couldn’t even move. A decade apart, and still her touch set him on fire.

He could tell she wasn’t immune to him, either. Her chest rose and fell a little quicker, and she sucked in the side of her mouth. Each a telltale sign Donovan knew well.

“How’s it working out for you?” she whispered.

He swallowed, unable to remember what they’d been talking about. “How’s what working out for me?”

“That plan of yours.”

“I’ve spent the last ten years without you, honey,” he said thickly. “Things have been hell for that long. So from here, things are looking pretty damned good.”

“What about it seems good? I’m not exactly cooperating with what you want to accomplish.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t bite on the wicked line she was trying to feed him. She’d always been excellent at baiting him into an argument. Trounced him every time. So he just stared down at her face, and the longer he looked, the more every detail of it seemed important.

Her wide eyes, pupils expanded enough that they nearly blocked out the blue.

The blush, which had expanded even more, covering her cheeks and throat completely.

Her lips. Firm, and just the tiniest bit damp.

The tiny scar on her left eyebrow, new since the last time he saw her.

The last thing prompted Donovan to move. He lifted his other hand from the wall and reached out to touch the small indent. He ran his fingers over the mark, disliking it intensely. Not because it marred the dark red curve of her brow, but because he hadn’t been there to witness whatever caused it. Hadn’t been there to stop it.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“Why?” she breathed. “Does it bother you?”

“Only knowing that it probably hurt you.”

“It did.”

“Badly?”

“At first. But all wounds heal eventually.”

Donovan flinched. He knew without asking that her comment was really a dig. A metaphor.

But maybe it’s an opening, too.

“Do they all heal?” he asked.

He dragged his finger from the scar to her cheek, almost—but not quite—cupping it. He hated himself for wanting her to say yes—for wanting her to be willing to overlook the heartbreak he’d caused.

She didn’t resist the intimate touch as she answered. “If they don’t kill you. Definitely. The human body is resilient. But wounds leave scars, too. Like that one up there.”

“A reminder?” he asked.

“Or a warning to be more careful the next time.”

“Jordynn...”

His thumb slipped to her mouth. For a second, her eyes closed and her lips dropped open. Then she inhaled and leaned back, out of reach.

“Do you really want to know how I got the scar?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I went on a date.”

Donovan was sure she’d said it to deliberately deflect the rising temperature between them. Or maybe just to hurt him. He wished he didn’t understand why she did it. The awareness acted like a bucket of icy water, dousing the desire that raged through him. Still. He had to pretend he didn’t care—because really, it wasn’t his right to care—as she met his eyes, clearly looking for a reaction.

He fought an urge to just slip his fingers between hers and pry the phone from her grip, thereby ending the conversation completely. Instead, he inhaled, then let the breath out carefully.

“A date?”

“Yes. The first one after you’d—After you were gone. You remember my friend Sasha?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Almost a year had gone by, and she thought it was time for me to start moving on. So she set me up with a friend of her cousin’s. The guy was just here on a visit. Short-term commitment, Sasha told me. No pressure, because he’d be gone in a week.”

Donovan pictured it. Pushy, logical Sasha, presenting a date as a reasonable argument. Jordynn unable to find a loophole to get her out of going.

“So you agreed,” he said softly.

“I did. He took me bowling. Then out for dinner. He was nice. Good-looking, too. And I was trying hard not to have fun. Searching for a reason not to like him. I couldn’t find one. At the end of the date, I realized I was being silly about the whole thing. There was no reason not to enjoy myself. So I decided to take a leap and have a good time. I let myself relax and laugh and eat a stupid dessert. When it was over, I was actually a bit sad. And relieved when—while we were sitting at the end of my driveway, in his car—he asked me out again. I said yes. And he kissed me, Dono. And it was fine. No fireworks or insanity like with you. But fine.” She paused to shrug. “Until a big black truck took a wrong turn and rear-ended us. Totaled the guy’s car. Smashed my head into the dashboard and split it open.”

A furious range of emotions tumbled through Donovan. Jealousy and self-loathing. Fierce regret and protectiveness. He reached up to stroke the scar again, but she shook her head, stopping him from succeeding.

“The worse part,” she said, “wasn’t that I took it as a sign that I wasn’t supposed to be having a good time, even though that’s what my mind had already concluded. Or that I was being punished for enjoying the date, even though I thought I was. It was knowing, at that moment, that I’d never be whole again. That some part of me would always tie everything back to the fact that you were dead.”

Donovan’s chest squeezed, so tight it hurt.

I’m sorry for the way I left you, he thought. Sorry for everything.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to find something adequate to say. Nothing would seem like enough.

Jordynn spoke first anyway. “We’re too late.”

Donovan hissed in a breath that made his lungs burn. He started to answer, then realized her statement wasn’t actually directed at him. Instead, her attention was focused behind him.

He swiveled to follow her gaze. The bedroom window had lit up with the distinct yellow glow of a vehicle’s headlights. Then they winked out, and the muted sound of one car door slamming, then another, carried up from outside.

Donovan turned back to Jordynn. “All right, honey. No more time for arguing.”

Phone forgotten, he slid his hands to her shoulders and pulled her away from the wall, then moved to pull back the furniture she’d stacked there. But before he could even come close to lifting the nightstand, an angry yell from below announced the intruders had already made their way into the house.

Chapter 3

Donovan froze, mad at himself. Should’ve been more insistent. More forceful. Gotten her out of here and given ourselves time. A fighting chance. If she gets hurt because you couldn’t keep your heart and hands in check—

“Dono?”

At the sound of Jordynn’s voice—colored by clear desperation and completely lacking animosity now—his eyes flicked up. Her gaze was on him, scared but expectant. Needing him.

Hell.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

Donovan made himself move, made himself look around the room in search of a solution. In search of a viable plan. He was pleased when he found one immediately.

He stepped away from the barricaded door, and moved to unlock the wide window at the back of the room. With a grunt at the effort, he slid the stiff pane sideways, then knocked out the screen.

“They’ll never believe we went out that way,” Jordynn said with a frown. “It’s a fifteen-foot drop.”

“I don’t want them to believe it,” Donovan replied. “I want them to check it out, then assume it’s a diversion tactic and start searching.”

The line between her eyebrows deepened. “You want them to look for our hiding place?”

“Yep.” He nodded toward the door. “And we’re going to leave that stuff there and wait for them to come to us, too.”

Her eyes pinched with worry. “What?”

“We don’t stand a chance of getting past them. Any second, they’re going finish searching down there. Then they’ll come up, the only way they can. Which is also the only way down. We really can’t beat them.”

“But...we can’t just let them win.”

“We won’t. We’re going out the way I came in. Through the bathroom, into the closet, then out through the den.”

“The den is right beside the bedroom,” she pointed out.

“I know. But the den door is wide open, and they won’t do more than glance inside. They’ll assume we’re behind the door they can’t get into and they’ll be so distracted with trying to break through it that they won’t notice as we slip out the other one. With any luck, anyway.”

“Luck?”

Donovan nodded. “Best we can hope for.”

“And if they aren’t distracted enough?”

He met her eyes. “Then you run like hell.”

“And what do you do?”

He moved away. Something told him that if he admitted he’d be more than happy to sacrifice himself on her behalf, she wouldn’t be thrilled. Maybe she’d even be upset by it.

“Donovan?” She said his full name—the way she always had when she really wanted an answer.

He didn’t respond right away, and Jordynn’s hand landed on his elbow. The touch was electric. A renewed buzz of need and a compulsion to answer her question honestly hit him.

You never could say no to her, could you?

He turned to face her again, his mouth open. But the thump of boots on the stairs saved him from having to admit he’d gladly let them take him if it meant she’d go free.

“Time to go,” he said instead.

As they moved across the bedroom, the doorknob rattled. Jordynn jumped, and Donovan slipped his hand to hers wordlessly and offered a reassuring squeeze. He expected her to pull away. She didn’t. Instead, she clung tightly to his fingers and let him take the lead. He pulled her to the bathroom, where he slid the curtain shut—not more than another ten-second decoy, probably, but anything might help—and turned out the light before lifting the latch to the sliding door on the other side of the room.

From outside the bedroom, the rattle of the knob had been switched out for a bang on the door itself, and an accompanying order to open it before they broke it down.

Jordynn inched closer to Donovan. He knew it was just because she was scared, but that didn’t stop it from feeling good to have her so near.

“It’s all right,” he murmured as they pushed into the den closet.

He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. The scant fifteen feet between them and whoever was on the other side of that door could’ve been multiplied by a hundred—a thousand, maybe—and it wouldn’t have been far enough away.

Donovan closed the door gently behind them, then paused to look down at her in the dark. “You doing okay?”

“No.”

He couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle at her honesty. “Fair enough. Let me rephrase the question. Are you ready to give this escape attempt our best shot?”

She stared back up at him, silent and still.

“Jordynn?” he prompted.

“You laughed,” she replied softly.

“Sorry.”

“No. Don’t be sorry. Not about that. I just—I never thought I’d hear your laugh again, that’s all.”

He touched her cheek, wishing he could take the time to talk to her about it. To explain, at least a little bit. She leaned into the caress for a second, then pulled away, and Donovan wondered if she would even let him try.

No time to find out now, he reminded himself.

“You ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and they slid to the wall beside the door silently, where Donovan paused to lift a finger to his lips. He stepped to the opening and leaned out.

Down the hall, a large, black-clad man slammed his foot into the door in quick succession. Thump. Pause. Thump. Pause. A second man stood beside the first, arms crossed as he waited for the bigger man to put his strength to good use.

Donovan slipped back inside, and as he did, there was a final thump, then a shattering cr-r-rack followed by a triumphant yell from the intruders.

“Now,” he said to Jordynn. “Quickly. Quietly. And don’t look back.”

He took her hand again and pulled her out into the hall. Donovan made himself follow his own order to ignore the commotion coming from the bedroom and to not check behind them. He didn’t even breathe until they’d made it halfway down the stairs.

He heard Jordynn let out a loud exhale, too. It was a shaky sound, and it reminded him that if he was scared, she must be downright terrified. He was the one who’d spent the past decade on the run. She’d simply carried on with her life there in Ellisberg, Oregon. Middle of the night runaways weren’t par for the course for her.

“Almost there, honey,” he said.

When they reached the bottom step, he pulled her to the wall, careful to keep out of view of the space where they’d tied up her assailant. He didn’t know how close to consciousness the other man was, and he didn’t want to find out, either. He eyed the hall skeptically. It would take them right past the living room and the man inside.

“Guess the front door’s out of the question.” Donovan kept his voice low.

“Do you want to go through the laundry room and into the garage?” she whispered back. “Mom’s old car is out there. We can try it, but I’m honestly not even sure it runs.”

“Garage door’ll be too noisy and car’ll be too easy to track.”

“What then?”

“Still got that little deck off the kitchen?”

“Deck?”

“The platform that hangs under the window.”

“You mean the one for the flower boxes?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You think it’ll hold our weight?”

“No.”

“Do you see another option?”

“It’s five feet from the window to the ground. If it breaks...”

“I’ll go out first. If it does break, it’ll give me a chance to use the stuntman moves I’ve been working on. And I’ll catch you when you follow.”

“How chivalrous.”

In spite of the stress-filled moments ticking by, Donovan smiled at her sarcastic mutter. “Always.”

For a second, her mouth turned up, too—just a tiny bit—and he had to rein in a compulsion to lean down and kiss those curved edges. He clenched his jaw to stop from actually doing it, and contented himself giving her hand another squeeze.

“Time’s running out,” Donovan said.

As if to emphasize his words, a crash came from above. An angry bellow followed it, and Jordynn flinched.

“Okay,” she breathed. “But if this doesn’t work, and we live, you’re paying for the repair.”

Donovan let out a low laugh, then tugged her down the hall and around the corner to the raised kitchen. He let her hand go—only because it would’ve been impossible to do what had to be done otherwise—and reached over the double sink to push open the window. When he’d swung it as wide as it would go, he turned to Jordynn once more.

“Forgive me for this, okay?” he said.

“For what?”

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Heat rushed through him, fast and hard. Five seconds of pure bliss, ten years in the making. Even though he would’ve liked the moment to last forever, he didn’t let himself linger. He didn’t want to give her a chance to reject the gesture. Or to make him regret it.

So Donovan pulled away quickly. He mounted the counter, then pushed his legs through the window and tested the platform with his boots.

Solid enough, he thought, and spun around to ease himself down.

“I should be on the ground in a second or two,” he said. “You can climb up and—”

The rest of the words died in his throat as he lifted his eyes and his gaze landed on Jordynn. And the man standing behind her with a gun pressed to her head.

* * *

“If either of you move an inch, you’re both dead.”

The gravelly voice, full of smug disdain, came from far too close to Jordynn’s ear. And something about it made her want to do the opposite of what it commanded. Like staying still and obeying could possibly be more frightening than the death threat itself.

She wanted desperately to turn and run as fast and far away as she could. She actually had to force her feet to stay planted. Warm metal dug into the back of her neck, and the man’s hand pressed to the small of her back.

Run! urged her brain.

Jordynn fought the urge. She stared straight at Dono, using his face to keep her rooted to the spot. She concentrated on his lips, and the memory of how they’d felt pressed into her just a minute ago. How the kiss had sent of jolt of longing through her, reminding her how much she’d missed him for the past ten years and making her hope it wouldn’t be the last time she got to experience it. And it worked. Though she couldn’t quite stop her body from shaking, she was able to keep from bolting.

For several frantic heartbeats, Dono held her gaze with his own before he pulled his hazel eyes up to the man who held her and gave a small nod of recognition.

When he spoke, his voice was calm. “Ivan. My favorite right-hand man.”

“You remember me. I’m flattered.”

“Hard to forget the man who ate Sunday dinner at my dad’s table, then beat me soundly and left me for dead. Cracked my jaw, broke my arm and made my head ache for a month, thank you very much.”

Jordynn cringed at the mental image that formed to go along with Dono’s words, and the man behind her jabbed the gun into her a little harder. She steadied herself, but her mind was working at hyper-speed to make sense of the other part of what he’d said.

Sunday dinner?

Who was this man to Dono? Ivan. Should that name mean something to her, too? She’d spent enough time at the Grady house as a youth. But she didn’t think she’d ever heard the name, nor seen the man before. What exactly had gone on ten years earlier? Would she find out, or would she simply die wondering? Unwanted tears formed in her eyes, and in spite of the way she fought to keep them in, they quickly made their way down her cheeks.

Dono’s attention flicked her way for a moment, following the path of tears down her face, and his lips fixed into an angry line before he drew in a breath and spoke again. “Your boss clearly holds me in some pretty high esteem if he sent you.”

“You fooled him into believing you were dead, and somehow eluded him for a whole decade,” replied Ivan. “Guess that warrants some special attention.”

“Guess it does.” Dono smiled a smile that didn’t touch his eyes, then shrugged. “Well, that, or he’s pissed that you couldn’t do the job right the first time.”

Behind Jordynn, the man let out a small snarl. “If I’d wanted to kill you all those years ago, you would’ve been dead. That was simply a suggestion of how things should go, depending how you want to look at it.”

Dono glanced at Jordynn, a flicker of worry crossing his face before he spoke evenly to Ivan. “Tell you what. Let her go, I’ll come with you, and I won’t even fight you on it. I’ve actually always wanted to meet the man.”

The other man smiled, too, but even more coldly. “Not to sound cliché, but the first time you meet him will also be the last. And, Mr. Grady, if you didn’t want Ms. Flannigan to have to face the consequences, you should never have come back and you should never have brought her into it. I’m afraid I can’t let her walk away. My boss has plans for her, too.”

The statement gave Jordynn a chill, but Dono stayed outwardly cool and collected.

“I didn’t bring her into this,” he corrected. “One of your ‘coworkers’ was already here when I arrived.”

“That’s almost true. But not quite.” The gray-haired man tossed a look at Jordynn. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know.”

“Know what?” The question slipped out before Jordynn could stop it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dono said.

But Ivan’s smile had grown. And darkened.

“It’s a technicality, I guess,” he said. “But this isn’t your boyfriend’s first return to Ellisberg.”

Again, Jordynn couldn’t help but reply. “What do you mean?”

“That’s how we found out he was alive.” Ivan’s voice was smug. “Showed up for a funeral.”

Jordynn’s eyes sought Dono. “When?”

“Jordynn...” He trailed off, but Ivan answered for him anyway.

“Two years ago,” the other man stated.

Her mother’s funeral.

Jordynn’s head spun. He’d been there. Close enough to see. Maybe to touch. She swallowed. How could he have come back like that, and not spoken to her?

“Accidentally got caught on camera,” Ivan added. “Weird thing. A local crew was doing a news story that day.”

“I remember,” Jordynn whispered. “A special on the history of the cemetery. They had to stop filming before we could start the service.”

“But not before someone managed to catch Mr. Grady in action. Dark coat, hood pulled up. But the angle was just right, and my boss was sure it was you.”

A sob built up in Jordynn’s throat, and Dono reached for her. But Ivan waved the gun menacingly, blocking him from getting any closer. And she was actually glad. She wasn’t sure what would happen if he touched her right that second.

She wanted to sit down. To process it. She wobbled. And neither man seemed to notice.

“Like Mr. Grady said, though. It doesn’t matter anyway. Not now.” The man shrugged. “And my boss wants a word with both of you.”

“A word?” Dono repeated doubtfully. “You and I both know he’s not interested in a chat.”

“To be honest, what we know doesn’t matter, either,” the gunman said. “Only matters that we do what we’re told. And just in case you were thinking about jumping and running, I’ll give you another fair warning. There are two guys out there in a car on the street. Armed and dangerous, as they say. Not the subtle type, either.”

“Two thugs outside. Two upstairs. Our friend tied to the chair in the living room. And you. Six men to bring us in,” Dono said. “Either that’s overkill, or we really are special.”

“A decade-long headache can make a man do crazy things. Step back inside. Slowly.”

“You sure about that? ’Cause I’ll be even more of a headache once you actually get ahold of me.”