Run to Me, Page 2

Her chest ached again. If only he meant those words.

  Then they were walking once more. She was smiling, only the smile felt easier now. Almost real. Jay was warm and strong beside her. His body moved protectively with hers. For just a moment, she could almost imagine what it would be like to really be his date. To be the focus of his intense attention.

  To kiss him.

  To make love with him.

  The driver was holding open the back door to the limo.

  She bent, preparing to go in first but…

  Willow glanced back.

  Jay had turned to respond to a reporter. He was answering some question about a new security feature he was adding for his users, and she heard…

  A sharp crack. The thunder of gunfire.

  The questions stopped. The screams began.

  And Willow found herself in Jay’s arms. She didn’t remember lunging toward him. Didn’t remember grabbing him, but his arms were around her, and he was staring down at her in absolute horror.

  She tried to smile. He’d said that she needed to smile for the cameras. The cameras were flashing. People were screaming, but cameras were still on her and Jay. Still watching.

  “Baby, baby, you’re bleeding.” Jay’s voice was shaking. Emotion blazed in his eyes as he held her tightly. He surged toward the limo, shoving them into the back of the vehicle. “Get the fucking car moving! Get us to the nearest ER!”

  She distantly heard a door slam. Had the limo driver done that? He shouldn’t be walking around outside. Someone was shooting out there.

  “Willow.”

  Jay’s voice snapped her attention up to his face even as she felt the limo lurch forward. Tires squealed.

  “Baby, you’re bleeding badly.”

  She realized he was pressing down on her chest. Odd, she didn’t feel his touch. Or any pain. She barely seemed to feel anything at all. “Sh-shot…”

  “Yeah, you were shot.” For an instant, she could have sworn that he looked afraid. “But I’m going to get you to a hospital. You’re going to be all right.”

  She wasn’t so sure of that. “Can’t…hospital…” Her words were softer. Talking was an effort. But she couldn’t go to a hospital. The doctors would realize how different she was. “H-home…” He just had to take her home. “Heal…” Jay knew she’d heal. He understood about her differences.

  “Look at me.” His voice was a fierce demand. “Look at me, Willow.”

  Her lashes lifted. She hadn’t realized her eyes had closed.

  “I think the bullet…God, there is so much damn blood! I think it nicked your heart. Or got an artery or—shit, I’m not a doctor, I don’t know! I just—it’s bad. Very bad and you—”

  Her lashes closed again. She couldn’t make them stay open.

  And she also couldn’t hear Jay. Not any longer. That was strange. Her senses were so strong. She should be able to hear him.

  But…

  There was just nothing.

  ***

  “Willow?” Jay pressed his hands down harder on her chest. He could feel her blood on his fingers. Willow’s blood.

  She didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.

  Didn’t breathe?

  His right hand flew up and pressed to her throat. The limo was bouncing and flying down the road, weaving and jerking to the left, then to the right. His fingers shook as he searched for her pulse.

  A pulse she didn’t have.

  No. Fuck, no.

  This shouldn’t have happened. The goal had been to attract attention. To get eyes on Willow. Not to get her hurt.

  The limo screeched to a stop. He heard the slam of a door. Jay knew the limo driver was rushing back to help him.

  Jay’s fingers were still on Willow’s throat.

  The door opened. The interior lights immediately came on, illuminating everything with a soft, warm glow. Illuminating Willow’s beautiful face. Her small nose, her delicate jaw. The heavy, dark mass of her hair.

  The blood on her neck. Blood that had come from his fingers.

  “We’re at the hospital,” the driver managed to choke out between quick pants of breath. “Let’s get her inside, let’s—”

  “We don’t need the hospital.” He had to play this scene carefully. When she’d been hit, he’d freaked the fuck out for a moment. He’d just seen her blood. He’d felt her go limp. And he’d lost his mind. Jay cleared his throat. He moved to Willow’s side, and he pulled her into his lap.

  Her head sagged limply against him.

  Swallowing, he wrapped his arms around her. Willow’s black dress hid most of the blood.

  “Sir?” Now the driver sounded worried.

  He should be worried.

  Jay pressed a kiss to Willow’s head. He swallowed once more to clear the lump in his throat. “The wound wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared.” He glanced at the driver. The man gaped at him. Jay gave a brisk nod. “She’s just resting now. Willow has requested that we go home, and that my personal physician, Dr. Elizabeth Parker, attend to her.”

  The driver didn’t move. “She…she isn’t moving, sir.”

  No, she wasn’t. He held her tighter. “She’s resting. Now, hurry, get us home.”

  The driver still hesitated.

  “Home,” Jay snapped. “Cops and reporters are going to chase me down, and I want Willow safe and taken care of before I have to face them.” He jerked his head. “The hospital is the first place they’ll look. I won’t have Willow subjected to that hell, not after—not after some bastard shot at her.” He could still hear the thunder of gunfire in his head. “Get us home. She’ll be safe there, and I can take care of her at our house.”

  The driver slammed the door shut. Either the fellow had decided to listen to his boss—or he’d just decided that Jay was insane and that his employer was cradling a dead woman. Either way, didn’t really matter. What mattered was that the limo was soon moving again.

  Jay’s eyes squeezed closed as he held Willow. “You’ll come back to me.” His body began to rock just a bit as he held her. “That’s what you do. The Lazarus subjects always come back.” The subjects were supposed to be able to survive anything, except a bullet to the brain. They died, but they came back. Just like the original Lazarus. They were the dead, rising.

  She just had to rise.

  “You’ll come back,” Jay said again. He pressed another kiss to her temple. “You’d fucking better.”

  Chapter Two

  She was sleeping beauty. An honest to God fairytale. Only as he stared at Willow’s still form, Jay felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare, not a dream.

  Jay sat in the chair in the corner of his bedroom. He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his legs, his eyes on the figure of the woman who lay in his bed.

  He’d stripped her. He hadn’t wanted her to stay in that blood-stained dress. He’d cleaned the blood from her body. He’d tried to not freak the hell out. He’d failed.

  “The bullet is out,” Dr. Elizabeth Parker said as she straightened, eyeing her patient. “It’s just a matter of time. She’s going to come back.” She glanced over at Jay. “I can stay with her. You should go get cleaned up.” She motioned toward him. “You’ve got blood on your tux.”

  And on his hands. Willow’s blood.

  “She’s healing already,” Elizabeth added, voice reassuring. “She’ll wake up soon.”

  He swallowed. “I don’t like this shit.”

  Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “No, I don’t either.” Her lips pressed together. She was a beautiful woman, smart, kind…and his former lover. They’d stayed friends after their break-up, and now they were both entwined in the madness that was Lazarus.

  “Do you wish you’d never created the formula?” Jay asked her.

  Because it had been Elizabeth’s brilliant brain that came up with the serum. The secret formula that could bring back the dead. She’d created the preservation process for the bodies, she’d worked for years to get her formula just perfect. And the
n Wyman Wright—asshole and sonofabitch extraordinaire—had stolen her serum. He’d used it on people without their permission. He’d tried to create his own freaking army.

  Elizabeth’s dark gaze turned pensive, but instead of answering him, she asked, “Do you wish you’d never funded the project?”

  Because he’d been the one to pump money into Lazarus. He’d been Wyman’s biggest backer. Jay worked plenty of covert deals with the U.S. government, but Lazarus had been different. He’d understood why Elizabeth wanted the formula to work. My God, if death could be stopped…

  But Jay hadn’t realized the full costs.

  His gaze slid back to the woman on the bed. Willow. His heart ached. “I can’t find her past. She doesn’t have any memories. No flashes of anything at all. I’ve looked and looked, and it’s as if she never existed before she woke up in that North Carolina lab.” Now he rose and stalked toward the bed, as if he were pulled to Willow. His gaze lingered on her face. Her eyes were closed, and he wanted her to wake up. To come back. To open her incredible blue eyes. “What if she has a lover out there, someone searching for her?” A bastard who was going insane because he’d lost her. Jay wanted to reach out and touch Willow. Because he wanted it so badly, his hands clenched into fists.

  “Someone obviously knows who she is,” Elizabeth murmured.

  His gaze immediately snapped to her.

  “The shooter,” she said bluntly as she tucked a thick lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Whoever tried to take her out tonight—that guy knows exactly who Willow is.”

  His spine straightened. “West is still at the scene.”

  “West and Sawyer,” Elizabeth added. Her face softened a little when she said the second name.

  Sawyer Cage. Her lover and the first Lazarus test subject. Elizabeth had walked through hell to get Sawyer back, and Jay had helped her. After all, he’d paved that road to hell, hadn’t he? “With Sawyer’s super senses, he should be able to hunt down the shooter.” The words were gritted out because fury rode Jay so hard. If he could get his hands on the man who’d shot Willow…

  “He’s definitely better equipped than the cops.” Elizabeth reached over and put her fingers on Willow’s throat. “She’s coming back. I feel her pulse.”

  Jay tensed.

  “I, um, I think I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll go call and see what Sawyer’s found. And you know, you’ve got cops at your door. You might want to think about handling them soon.”

  He’d handle them after he took care of Willow. He had power in D.C. Power and pull, and the cops could wait a little longer on him.

  She eased from the room, and the door clicked closed behind her. As soon as he heard that soft sound, Jay’s shoulders sagged. He released a deep breath, and he sat on the edge of the bed. His hand reached for Willow’s. Caught hers. Held it tightly. “Open your eyes.” He realized he sounded close to begging. Screw it. She’d been dead. He needed her eyes to open. He needed her back with him.

  He’d never been so fucking scared in his whole life. Not even when he’d been an eleven-year-old kid, tossed onto the street with no shoes, torn clothes, and not a damn thing else in the world to call his own.

  He felt her hand jerk in his grasp. A quick, light flinch. “Baby…” He leaned toward her.

  Her eyes opened. She stared straight at him, and then she screamed. Her scream pierced Jay straight to his soul. “Willow, Willow, it’s okay, you’re safe, you’re—”

  She jerked upright in bed and screamed again.

  The door flew open behind him. He heard it thud into the wall. “What’s happening?” Elizabeth cried out.

  Willow had jumped from the bed. She stood on the far side of the room, her back pressed to the wall, her gaze darting between him and Elizabeth.

  Slowly, Jay rose. “Willow.” He said her name deliberately. Tenderly. Carefully. “You were hurt when we left the ball tonight.” He reached for the covers. Jay held them in his arms as he began to make his way toward her. “But you’re okay now. Everything is okay.”

  She blinked. Once. Twice. And then her eyes widened as recognition finally flared in her gaze.

  His heart was beating so damn fast. Jay was sure the thing was about to jump out of his chest. For a minute there, Willow hadn’t remembered him. He knew she hadn’t.

  Fucking hell. I did this to her.

  “J-Jay…?”

  He nodded. Still advanced slowly. When he was close enough, he lifted the covers and wrapped them around her naked body. She shuddered and her breath panted out.

  “I was…shot…”

  Something else that was his fault. He’d taken her out in public and put her on display. He’d used her as bait. Why the hell hadn’t he considered that she could get hurt? “Yes.”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Willow, are you okay? I know coming back can be a bit unsettling…” Her voice trailed away.

  Willow clutched the covers. “Coming back,” she repeated. She looked down at Jay’s hands. “That’s…my blood, isn’t it?” Her gaze rose. The blue was so bright. “I died?”

  “Yes.”

  Her shoulders hunched.

  Fuck. “Elizabeth, give us a minute, okay?”

  She retreated without a word. The door shut once more.

  And Jay pulled Willow into his arms. She stiffened, but a moment later, her body softened against his. He held her, cradling her, wanting to take away all of her fear and pain.

  “I…died?” Willow asked him again, but there was a hitch in her voice. Fear. He didn’t want her to be afraid.

  “You came back.” He eased away a few inches so that he could slide his hand under her chin, tipping her head up and staring into her eyes. “You came back, Willow. Everything is okay.”

  A tear slipped from her eye. One, then another.

  A guttural growl tore from him. Her tears were killing him. Killing him. “Don’t, baby, don’t.” Jay pressed a kiss to her cheek. He kissed her tears away.

  And her body stiffened.

  Shit. He’d overstepped. He hadn’t meant—Jay immediately lifted his head. “Willow—”

  “Kiss me.”

  Those were the last words he’d expected to hear her say. Stunned, he just stared at her.

  Another tear slid down her cheek.

  His chest burned. “Baby…”

  She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The bed covers dropped a bit, but then got caught between their bodies. “Kiss me,” she whispered again.

  Since there was pretty much no damn thing that he wouldn’t do for her—and since he wasn’t a fool—Jay’s mouth took hers. The kiss was light at first. A brush of his lips against hers. She’d just died, for shit’s sake. He didn’t want to rush or scare her.

  But her lips parted beneath his. His tongue slid into her mouth. He tasted her. And he was lost. The kiss deepened as he tasted her. Savored her. He pulled her even closer, and his cock shoved hard toward her. Willow. She moaned, a soft sound in the back of her throat, and his desire surged even higher. Her hands were digging into his shoulders, she was pressing her body to his, and all he wanted was to taste every single inch of her. Right then and right there.

  She’d been shot. She’d died. But she was warm and alive in his arms. His Willow was back.

  A fist pounded against the door. “Jay!” A man’s voice barked. “Jay, Elizabeth told me you asked for some time, but I need your ass out here, now.”

  That was West. A pissed West.

  Fair enough, West had just pissed Jay off, too.

  Because Willow was pulling away. Slipping from his arms even as she grabbed the covers and wrapped them around her body. She stared at Jay with wide eyes, and her gorgeous lips were red and plump and wet from his kiss.

  “Willow…” Jay began.

  Willow, I want to kiss every fucking inch of you.

  Willow, I want to sink into you and make you scream as you come.

  She blinked. Her cheeks flushed. Her breathing hitched,
and she quickly glanced away.

  Jay’s gaze narrowed. The Lazarus subjects had psychic bonuses, he knew that. Had Willow just picked up on his thoughts?

  “Jay!” West pounded on the door again. “The cops are demanding to see you! Your damn money can only buy you so much time. Get your ass out here!”

  He hadn’t even realized West was at his house, not until the guy had interrupted at the absolute wrong time. He’d thought the fellow was still at the scene of the shooting. Jay spun on his heel and marched for the door. He opened it, but just enough to stick his head out. He didn’t want West seeing Willow right then. “Give me a minute,” he snapped.

  But West threw his hand up against the wood of the door before Jay could shove it closed again. “Not happening,” West fired back. “The cops have played it cool as long as they could. They’re demanding to see you.” His voice was low. “Man, the stories are already spreading, okay? Reporters are saying online that you freaked out, and you’ve holed up with your dead lover’s body. This shit isn’t good.”

  He hated the press somedays—no, he hated the tabloids that liked to rip his life to shreds. “She isn’t dead.”

  “Of course, not. She’s Lazarus.” West’s dark gaze held his. “So get her out here for the cops to see before they start tearing your house apart in their search for a corpse.”

  Oh, hell, no. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  West just sighed. He’d ditched his tux coat and rolled up his sleeves. “Man, you think because you’ve got more money than God that people will do everything you want?”

  He didn’t have more money than—

  “Shit doesn’t work that way. You fled from the scene of a shooting. You took what people think is a dead woman to your bedroom. You’ve got to talk to the authorities, now, before this gets worse.”

  Jay rolled back his shoulders. “Fine.”

  West’s lips twitched, but then the faint smile vanished. “We didn’t find anyone at the scene.”

  Jay clenched his teeth.

  “Sawyer searched, I searched, but we couldn’t find a trail.”

  Dammit. West was former Delta Force and Sawyer—the ex-Navy SEAL had enhanced senses. If those two couldn’t find the shooter… “That’s not good.”