A Bullet to the Heart, Kathy Wheeler [inspirational books txt] 📗

Lyddie in Lyddie’s room. I dragged Tevi with me, yelling at Lydia to follow. Of course, Lydia wanted to know why, but there wasn’t time to explain. I just remember screaming at her. Scaring her. I barricaded us in my room.”

He had to know. “Did he come after you?” And where was your mother?

“Sometime later, though I couldn’t say how much time had passed, Tevi, Lydia, and I were huddled together before he was knocking on my door. Gently, like. Like nothing in the library had happened. But we didn’t open the door. He tried everything to coax us out, but—” she hiccupped, “—we Weatherford girls were a force to be reckoned with, even as little kids.” A small smile curved her pale lips in her too-white pallor. “The details are murky after that. I mean, I don’t remember if there was blood on me, or how badly I maimed him. Obviously, I didn’t kill him. I do wish I’d cut something vital off—” She lowered her gaze, scarlet flagging her cheeks.

Wyn lifted her chin. “Oh, Jo. My darling, darling, Jo. Don’t you understand? You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.” He brushed his lips over hers. “You are the strongest woman I know, Josephine Ophelia.”

Her blue eyes widened. Stared back at him, full of desperate longing. Of hope.

Wyn knew in that moment, she would be fine. He ran his hands up her arms, carefully enclosing her within his hold, pressed her head against his chest. “What happened next?”

Her head moved back and forth against his shoulder, her words muffled by his shirt. “I-I don’t know. Our mother was gone and then we were living with Uncle Victor and Aunt Mary.”

He smiled against her hair. “Adrenaline.”

She leaned back and blinked up at him, her eyes now clear and focused. “What?”

“Adrenaline. It happens in fight-or-flight type situations. Instinct takes over and after the initial terror, the body goes into a sort of shutdown. It’s not uncommon to forget what happened right after.” Slowly, Wyn reached for her hands. It was like holding a block of ice. “The important thing is you survived. You saved yourself! What that bastard did to you was not your fault. You are an amazing and resilient woman, Josephine Weatherford.” His heart pounded hard with a billion emotions he couldn’t put words to. He only knew he loved her and would slay aliens, attack monsters, do anything to keep her safe from barbarians and savages the likes of Wallace Hayes.

“Do you think he came back here? That he’s the one who shot at me?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” His resolve firmed. “You can bet I’ll be making sure though. It’s never a good idea to shut out any possibilities.”

Her spine straightened with tension. “Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. “Well, Reverend Knox warned me to stay away from you too—” she inhaled sharply. “Do you think Knox—”

“Anything is possible, I suppose.” He shuddered. “But Knox would be more likely to come after me. Not you.”

“Why?”

Maybe it was time for a confession of his own. “There was a party that night at Serpent’s Point. The night I found you hiding. The reverend’s prim and proper daughter tried to kiss me, and I decided I had to get out of there. I’ve never run so fast in my life.” He stared at Jo, thinking hard about that night. “You remember, don’t you? Did you see Jackson? Or…or anyone?”

Her gaze took on that distant glaze. “No. I remember hearing her scream. A haunting sound I’ve never been able to forget. I dove in the first hiding place I could find. I heard someone running.” Her words slowed, her eyes focused. “I saw only you. Without your shirt.” A blush tinged the white from her delicate cheeks. “The littlest thing scared me back then.”

He brought her hand up, felt her heat on his calloused fingers and touched his lips to her knuckles. “I have a headline for you—it still does.” A slight smile tugged at him. “Yes, she’d been…hurt. If anyone had found her like that—” he cleared his throat, unable to explain what he’d seen. Not after Jo’s harrowing story. “Anyway, Jackson came up on me and cracked me on the jaw. Then I found you.”

“There was no one else around?”

“Not that I can remember. I just remember being terrified of her father believing I had designs on her. That man scared me. Frankly, he still does.”

A giggle broke from Jo, dispelling the oppression in the room.

Her laughter was so out of character, Wyn was struck dumb from the sound. Mirth flashed in her lovely blue eyes, eyes that had plagued his dreams for years. His gaze fell to her full and flesh-colored lips. “Jo?” He hardly recognized his own voice that had taken on a gravelly, husky connotation. He leaned in, then waited.

The depths of her attention mesmerized him, like summer lightning, full of pain and unquenchable need. She lifted her fingers and feathered his neck with the faintest touch. He angled closer until her lips teased his like wispy strands of gossamer. Her kiss sent spirals of trust and ecstasy whirring through him. He kept his movements minimal and minute and…restrained. But to his astonishment, her lips mimicked his.

Him in her room.

No one about.

Desire raging through him.

Not the place. Not the place. Not the place.

But he couldn’t drag himself away from her softness. But, oh, God. He had to. She would hate herself if someone walked in. Worse, she would hate him. He cupped his hands around her shoulders and pulled himself gently back.

Her lips, moist and shiny with his kiss, beckoned like the devil’s temptation, primed to drag him straight into Purgatory. Her eyes were glazed with wonder, and the impulse to ruin himself forever lured him with magnetic force.

“Wyn?” she whispered.

He drew her back into his arms and set his chin on top of her head. “This isn’t the place, love.”

She jerked completely away, throwing herself against the back of the chaise, her face crimson with