Sweet and Salty (Marshall My Heart #1)

48. Chapter Forty-Eight

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

J esse

Fucking Sideburns.

They look worse since the last time I saw him, too. Shaggy, overgrown, like a lawn gone to seed.

When he points that gun at my beautiful Laura, something snaps inside me. This isn’t fair. She left this asshole, good and proper. Now he’s interfering in her life again. He’s threatening her mom, her one remaining parent.

“I see I finally have your attention,” Chris says. His eyes narrow with malice.

My hands fist at my sides. I should have wrung his neck at the wedding. I won’t make that mistake twice.

“Leave my mom alone,” Laura says, soft but menacing. There are all sorts of threats in that tone, and I fall in love with her a little more.

“Laura, please,” Marie Marshall says, keeping her hands aloft and her gaze fixed on Chris. “Just leave. Please.”

“We can’t let her leave, Marie.” Chris swings the gun from Laura to me. “She needs to see just how far I’ll go for her.”

“You broke up with me, shitface.” Laura’s rage is a palpable aura, red-hot and smoking. “You never did anything for me while we were together. I should have dumped your lazy ass two years ago.”

“You don’t see.” Chris shakes his head, but the gun doesn’t move from the center of my chest.

In the distance, I think I can hear sirens, but maybe they’re just all the internal warning bells that are tolling the sound of my impending death.

Because I’ve already decided. When he goes too far, when he tries to hurt the ones I love, my fucking family , I’m not going to let it happen. I’ll die first.

“What does she not see?” Marie says, her voice a beacon of calm. In my next life, I’d like to come back as someone like her. Someone implacable but deeply caring. “Tell her, Chris. Now. Put the gun away and let’s all just have a chat. I’ve got hot coffee and some bars.”

Chris’s cheeks redden, and he swerves toward her. “Shut up!” It’s enough of a pause that I take a quick moment to account for my surroundings. We entered through the waiting room, but directly to my right is the receptionist’s desk. With a handy black woven pencil cup sitting right next to the monitor, filled with pens, highlighters, and a pair of scissors.

“Don’t tell my mom to shut up!” Laura says, taking a step forward.

As Chris veers his attention back to her, I palm the scissors. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, but you won’t give me the time of day. I had to team up with Joel.”

“Joel Hostetler?” Laura’s tone indicates exactly what she thinks of that individual. As surreptitiously as I can, my entire body tense and ready to fight, I test the point of the scissors against the pad of my index finger. Not the sharpest, but if I use enough intention… “What the hell are you doing with Joel Hostetler?”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Chris asks. The point of his pistol swings between me and Laura.

Laura quivers with rage, but I’d rather draw his wrath. “It was you, wasn’t it?” I say. “You poisoned Lucretia Borgia.”

“All of our problems started with her!” Chris shouts, spluttering. Never got that checked out, apparently. “We were fine until you rescued that fucking donkey. Then all your attention, all your care went to that damned animal.”

“Don’t talk about Cree that way,” I say. “Where’s Dr. Sieber?”

“I’m fine,” comes a shaky tenor from deep inside the break room. “Everyone stay calm.”

“Our problems started with you,” Laura says to Chris. “I turned myself inside out to help you, and for what? Nothing. That’s what you gave me. And what was poisoning my donkey supposed to accomplish? Was I supposed to run to you and ask what to do? Give you money for nothing?”

“I’m owed money for all I did for you,” Chris says, his jaw tense.

I’m definitely not imagining the sirens now. I wonder what’s going on with the Mack brothers, but we have enough to deal with right now.

“The police are coming,” I say softly, edging slightly in front of Laura. “Your game is up, Sideburns Squirrel.”

The gun now shifts toward the general direction of my head. I say “general” because Chris’s hands tremble so badly, the barrel of the pistol keeps shaking.

“You.” He spits twice.

“Do you need a tissue, hon?” Marie asks, still with her hands in the air.

“I need him to be gone,” Chris says through a tense jaw. “This is his fault. He showed up in town and took everything from me.”

“Is that what you and Joel Hostetler tell each other in your incel support group?” I move forward now, not caring. I’m ready to die. It’s either here or with the Macks. Either way, I won’t let anyone hurt the Marshalls. “You can’t face the truth, and you’re making all of us listen to you blather on about your supposed woes, when they’re all self-inflicted.”

“And what is the truth, dickhead?”

I smirk. Is that really his best insult? Beside me, Laura must hear the sirens, too, because she takes a step back behind me. Good.

I advance toward Chris, stalking him like a gator stalks a poor, unsuspecting cat who’s wandered too close to the edge of the swamp. “The truth is that you aren’t good enough for her. You never will be. And maybe I’m not, either. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m not. But despite all the shit I’ve gone through, I’m willing to try to be who she needs. You are an obsessive, creepy little shit. And maybe I am, too. But I’m an obsessive, creepy little shit who is willing to change. Who will go the extra mile because Laura is worth it. She’s worth me being a better version of myself.”

Chris’s eyes flare wide a second before the gun fires, the sound an explosion in the tight hallway. I whirl to protect Laura, the scissors flying from my hand in an arc that I hope is in his general direction. There’s a deep, stabbing burn in my shoulder, and my arm below it goes bitterly numb. Marie screams something feral and unintelligible as my makeshift weapon clatters uselessly on the hallway carpet, two feet from Chris, who’s now holding the gun in one limp hand, like he’s shocked it actually went off.

“No!” Laura cries, reaching for me, but I can’t get to her. My vision goes hazy as the burn in my shoulder intensifies.

That little fucker shot me. I try to get up from the ground because I want nothing more than to punch him, but my legs aren’t listening to my brain.

Marie and Dr. Sieber jump on Chris’s back in a synchronized motion that makes me wonder if they practice krav maga during their lunch breaks. Sideburns Squirrel goes down with a howl of rage, but somehow he and I are on the same level. I stare across the utilitarian gray carpet toward him, wishing I could fire lasers from my eyeballs.

There’s an aching pressure on my shoulder, and Laura’s scent overwhelms me. “No, no, Jesse, no.” She’s sobbing. I try to reach toward her, but I can’t move my arm. Why can’t I move it?

A black cloud encroaches on the edges of my vision, so I use whatever time I have to drink in the sight of Laura’s face. If I can die like this, it’s worth it.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Don’t say that,” she says, tears falling from her eyes onto my cheeks. “You only say that because you think you’re going to die.”

Somewhere in the distance, I hear what sounds like Frank the Security Guard’s voice, authoritative and announcing the police’s arrival. Frank. He does surprise me.

But I don’t want Frank to be the last thing I see. Laura Marshall really is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Dragon-scale green eyes, those clouds of brown hair cascading around her perfect face. I raise the hand that isn’t numb and brush a curl, wet with her tears, away from her cheek. Her hair is so silky. I’m ready to die like this, her surrounding me.

“I love you,” I say again. Then everything goes dark.