Page 34 of Flirting With Disaster

“I’ll take love and passion over logic any day. You taught me that. Do you love me at all, Beck?”

He stared. His features hardened.

“That’s what I thought.” She turned her back on him.

“Wait. It’s only been a week. Six days ago, I couldn’t even decide between ravioli or linguini.” Jude turned to face him and he sighed. “Do you actually believe you could fall in love with me in such a short time?”

“I do. Unlike you, I’m a hopeless romantic on an optimistic streak this week. Next week, I might very well hate you, so we’re good to go.”

A storm brewed in his golden eyes. “You want honesty? This,” he touched his cheek, “is from Elizabeth. She hit me with one of my broken beer bottles during a fight we had because I was a drunken bastard who didn’t give a shit. And the burns,” he rubbed his arm, “are from the plane crash where I killed your parents. I drank that day, and they are all reminders of my destructiveness.”

Jude’s lungs constricted, and she sucked in much-needed air. “I don’t know what your parents did to you to make you think you don’t deserve forgiveness, but you are not in control of all the bad things that happen in the world. You made mistakes in the past, but you’re a better man now. Live up to it.”

His lips thinned, and he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Jude sighed. “You know what? It’s really okay. I understand. I’m not one to run away sniveling and crying over some situation I fully participated in. You can go back to your fans and your life. I’m fine.”

She marched quickly down the corridor, ignoring the blank stares of the dead patrons preserved on canvas. She made it to the lighted room where she hoped to find Nola.

“Jude, we’re not finished!”

“Yes, we are!” She couldn’t stand to be near him. It only broke her heart more. She couldn’t stand to hear his excuses for why he didn’t love her or why he couldn’t love himself.

She stopped just inside a cavernous room that must have been meant for private parties, turned to send Beck on his way, and then froze at the sight of Ava Callahan over Beckett’s shoulder.

The woman teetered down the hall on her four inch heels. Her face twisted in fury, as the pistol she held toward the center of Beckette’s back wavered through the air.

Jude screamed, understanding the woman’s evil intent, then leaped in front of Beckette as the shot reverberated through the hall. Hot lava burned her chest and shoulders as she fell into Beckette, bringing him with her to the ground just inside the room. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils as she fought to breathe.

The warmth of the room enveloped her. Nola came, and a young man who held Nola tightly to his chest.

Was that Jude’s celadon dress on Nola? It looked wonderful except for the blood stain across the bodice. Jude smiled. “Nola, you look beautiful. You have a bouquet of lavender. I love lavender.”

“Who the hell is Nola? Oh God, Jude. Honey, what did you do?” Beckette’s voice was harsh. He cradled her head and shoulders on his knees. “Honey, stay awake, you hear me? Stay with me.”

His voice faded and Jude’s pain diminished. She floated on a soft cloud, warmed by his body heat.

“Why, Jude? Why would you risk jumping in front of me?”

She looked at him, his features blurred slightly, and smiled. “You’d be surprised what a person is capable of, when they are in love.”

He pulled her to his chest. Her gaze traversed the beautiful room until they landed on a strangely familiar portrait on the wall above the fireplace. That same spicy lavender wafted across her body as she tried to rise from Beck’s lap for a closer look.

“Jude, honey, sit still until the ambulance gets here.” He pressed harder against the wound in her chest. “I have to stop the bleeding.”

Why was he crying? She didn’t care about her sweater. All she cared about was the portrait. She lifted her head for a better look.

“It’s Nola,” she whispered.

“Who’s Nola, Deary?” Alana…Alana Fitzgerald knelt next to her.

“My maid.” The beautiful painting was Nola and the handsome man who’d held her in this room moments ago. Jude glanced around to find them, but they were gone. She pointed. “There, in the picture. That’s Nola, my maid.”

“No, honey, that is Nayeli. She was a Uti Indian princess, daughter of a chief back in the late 1800s.”

Jude smiled at Alana. “And the man? Tell me about the man.” She remembered his grief from her dream.

“Ennis McLoughlin was an Irish immigrant’s son who fell in love with Nayeli. The chief planned to kill Nayeli for she was betrothed to an Indian warrior. Nayeli wanted to run away with Ennis, but convinced her father to end the betrothal to Akando. Folklore states that young Ennis met with her to end the relationship, to save her, not knowing she’d already saved herself. The warrior Akando followed Nayeli to the castle, overheard Ennis breaking Nayeli’s heart and shot an arrow in an attempt to kill young Ennis for disgracing her.”

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