Part 36 (1/2)

Then he shook his head, exhaled slowly, and willed the tension in his shoulders to ease. It wasn't going to happen. Nothing could ruin his plans now. He eased the gun back toward the seat beside him.

Nothing, unless ...

Unless Angela didn't catch the vision of what he'd planned for the two of them.

Unless somehow the professor had convinced her that everything she'd shared with Dirk was simple and shallow and worthless. Unless she took one look at the ring and laughed at him, refused to see him, ordered him away from her apartment.

The thought had never occurred to him before.

Sure, she'd said no in the past, but that was back when she was seeing the professor. Back before his weight-training program, before he'd built his body into a piece of art. Minute by painful minute, workout after tiring workout, pill after pill after pill -- and all of it for Angela Manning.

If she turned him down now, everything about life as he knew it would be over.

A strange buzzing filled his head, and it was difficult to think. If she didn't say yes, he knew ways to convince her. He clutched the revolver more tightly and hid it in his pocket. Wouldn't want to scare her. Then with the ring in one hand and the gun in the other, he climbed out of the truck and slammed the door shut.

He hadn't taken four steps when he spotted the professor. What was this? Was he seeing things? Dirk blinked, rage filling every vein and capillary, strangling his chest and heart and mind. But the vision didn't change. Instead, he watched Professor 324 Jacobs walk toward the front door of Angela's apartment building.

Anger grabbed at his throat, suffocating him. Dirk was unable even to draw a breath without doing something to stop the man. He pulled the gun from his pocket and ran to catch up with the professor.

”Hey!” Dirk raised the gun, his temples pounding with fury. The professor's face was frozen in a mask of surprise as Dirk positioned his finger on the trigger.

”This one's for Angela.”

At the sound of her name on his lips, Dirk pulled the trigger. Once. Twice.

Three times, until the professor dropped to the sidewalk with blood spilling from his chest.

Only then did the anger clear enough for Dirk to,realize what he'd done.

He stared at the professor lying on the sidewalk. Stared at the red pool forming around the man and ran for his car, his heart screaming within him.

As he pulled away, it occurred to him that he'd ruined everything. Every dream of marrying Angela or making a life for the two of them, every thought of finally living a life like his brothers' was laid out on that sidewalk, dying.

Right there beside Professor Tim Jacobs.

The moment Tim hit the ground, he instantly made two observations.

First, the pain was only minimal, despite the fact that he'd taken all three bullets straight on. He felt a hot, throbbing sensation at the center of his chest, but other than that he might have been lying on the sidewalk by choice.

It was the other observation that worried him more: He couldn't move, not even a little. And it was that reality that sent him beyond pain and fear straight to terror. Because as badly as 325 he wanted to convince himself he was all right, clearly something was very wrong.

He heard footsteps, cries. Though he couldn't open his eyes, he knew Angela was at his side.

”Tim!” She knelt beside him, her voice frantic. There were other voices, bystanders gathering around, and she shouted at them, ”Somebody call 911! ”

Her fingers took hold of his and squeezed. ”Hang on, Tim.” She screamed the words and began to weep. ”Dear G.o.d, no!” He could feel pavement beneath him.

Pavement and warm, flowing blood. Desperation seized Tim, and he tried as hard as he could to speak. He had something to say. Even if it took all his remaining strength he had to say it before it was too late.

Help me, Father.... I'm in trouble.

Voices gathered around Tim, shouting orders, murmuring concerns, asking each other whether he was breathing. Tim could feel no pain now, only a deep urgency.

”Someone stop the bleeding.” It was Angela's voice. ”Is he breathing? Check if he's breathing and-” ”Has anyone called the ambulance?”

Tim didn't care about any of it.

The only thing that mattered was that he was about to die in front of Angela Manning's house. When Kari found out, she'd think he'd been lying about everything. Then six months down the road she would learn about Angela's baby, and that would be even worse.

He struggled again to formulate the words he needed to say. ”Angela ...”

”Tim!” Her grip on his hand tightened. ”Hold on, baby. Someone will be here any minute.”

He struggled for nearly a minute and finally opened his eyes. What he saw confirmed how serious the situation was. Angela's face was a mask of pure fear.

”Oh, Tim,” she said. ”Who did this to you?”

326 Tim remembered the face of the angry young man. This one's for Angela.

”He ... he knew you.”

A realization dawned in Angela's features. ”Was he young?” Tim didn't try to answer. It didn't matter who the shooter was; all that mattered was saying what he had to say. He thought about the letter in his pocket and wished he could reach for it. Instead, he drew a rasping breath. Please, G.o.d ... I must talk....

He swallowed, and finally the words came. ”I'm ... sorry.” Every syllable was an increasing effort, and at the core of his being he knew he was dying. ”About ..

the baby.” He sucked in a breath and heard the wet rattling in his lungs.

Blood. It won't be long....

”No, Tim.” Angela's weeping grew louder, and he felt her breath on his face.

When she spoke it was in a whisper, intended for his ears only. ”Tim, I'm not pregnant. I ... I made that up so you'd come back to me.”

What? The whole thing was a lie? Cool relief flooded Tim's body faster than the blood ebbing from his veins. He drew another breath. He couldn't feel any part of his body except a stinging wetness in his eyes.

”Could ... you . . .” The fluid in his throat made it almost impossible to speak. ”Could you ... tell Kari ... I'm sorry. Tell her ... I love her.”

He could see pain in Angela's eyes, but compa.s.sion as well. ”Don't talk like that, Tim. You can tell her. You're going to be fine.”

He heard sirens wailing nearby, and then a shuffling of feet. Four paramedics came into view, and one of them shouted, ”Step aside, please.”

Tim was glad for the help, but he was certain it was too late. Angela let go of his hand, and her face receded into the darkness. He heard concern in the terse voices of the paramedics.

”Respiration's shallow.”