Jagger (Broken Doll 2)

My blood ran cold and my heart tripped. Miri, outside, gunfire. I sprinted for the backyard. The kitchen doors were already open so I barreled through them without giving two thoughts as to my own safety. Men were everywhere, some of them mine clad in their dark suits, others strangers wearing everyday clothing. All of them were either firing weapons or lying on the ground.

“Son of a bitch,” I growled. “Where is she?”

George stopped behind me. “I don’t know. They were at the gazebo, but in this mess, they could be anywhere.”

I ran along the side of the house toward the garden. From there I could follow the garden path and use the tall plants and shrubs as cover while making my way to the gazebo. A shot whizzed by my head.

“Fuck.” I threw myself to the ground, diving into a dense clump of tall yellow flowers. “Jesus Christ.” That bullet was close. I pushed into a crouch and found the path. One step at a time, I crept forward, gun raised and ready. What I wasn’t ready for was the sight I met just off the path a few feet away.

“Oh God.” My stomach heaved and the bottom fell out. Two of my men lay dead while Cat, crying and hysterical, was trying to pull a semi-unconscious and very confused Miri into the bushes. I leapt forward and grabbed Cat’s arm. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed.

“Run for the house,” I barked. “George, take her inside.” I didn’t look back to make sure they complied. My only focus, all I cared about, was Miri. I flipped her over and my world shattered. Her head was covered in blood, a small pool on the grass beneath her. Miri’s eyes

were glazed over, her pupils huge. A shot rang out nearby and I threw my body over hers, willing to die to protect my doll. As long as I was still breathing, I would never allow her to suffer pain again.

I went to hoist Miri over my shoulder so I would have a hand free to use my gun, when white-hot pain sliced through my chest, stealing my breath. Before I had time to process what happened, the agony exploded ten-fold. Gasping, I stumbled and fell to my back, dropping the gun to clutch my shirt over the source of the fire that was ripping through my body. My hand was hot and wet.

Shot. I was shot. I failed her. Failed my doll.

I’m so sorry, Miri. With tremendous effort, I rolled on top of her, determined to protect her until my dying breath. I turned my head so I could make sure her face was the last thing I saw as I left this earth.

10

Jag

Fuck.

My entire body felt as if it had gone through a wood chipper before being haphazardly glued back together by a three year-old. My eyelids were thick and crusty and it took a moment, but somehow I managed to peel them apart. Bright light stung my sensitive retinas. I blinked to adjust to the glare, but it still hurt, a dull throb behind my eyes that seemed to radiate right into my brain stem.

The room slowly came into focus. It was just so goddamn bright. White on white on white. White tiled ceiling, white walls, white lights… I had no clue where I was. Concentrating on breathing, I tried to calm down, waiting for the rest of my senses to return, and fuck if I wished they hadn’t. My nerves prickled awake and my chest began to burn, which quickly escalated into a sharp, lancing pain. One that never let up, not for a single second. With each shallow breath I took, the pain actually got worse, which I wouldn’t have thought possible.

Using extreme care, so as not to jostle anything, I turned my head to the right and my hazy eyes wandered over that half of the room. Hospital, my mind slotted the unfamiliar space into its proper spot. There were two doors, one closed and the other cracked open wide enough to see a small bathroom. Gritting my teeth, I turned to my left and gasped, then groaned at the streak of pain caused by the sudden movement.

“Miri?”

My voice was no more than a ragged croak. I swallowed, unable to believe the sight was real. Oh thank fuck. She’s not dead. My sweet, angelic, redheaded doll, was curled up in a recliner next to the bed, fast asleep.

“Miri?” I tried again, but couldn’t put enough force behind it for her to hear me. Frustration built, leaving me aching and angry. Holding back a scream, I lifted a heavy hand and placed it on her arm. Flames tore through my chest, leaving me panting and sweating. I moaned on an inhale as I struggled to stay still in order to quell the fire engulfing my entire torso. It felt as if my insides were being scorched to ash.

“Jag?” I heard Miri speak, but all I could do was close my eyes, grit my teeth, and wait for the torture to recede. “Oh my God, Jag!” I heard the rustling of clothes and opened my eyes. Miri came into view above me. Her tired face crumpled in a combination of distress and relief. “You’re awake,” she sobbed. “Thank God.”

When the pain had lessened enough for me to speak, I could only get out two words between labored breaths. “What… happened?”

“Oh Jag,” she cried. Miri hovered, her hands held over my prone figure, hesitant. Unable to decide where she could touch without hurting me. She settled on my face, caressing my cheeks and skimming her fingers over my mouth before pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “You were shot.” Miri sniffed, her bloodshot eyes glassing over. “You almost… you almost died. I can’t… I can’t, Jag.” Tears overflowed, rolling down her face to drip onto my thin hospital gown. Miri wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.

“I’m… okay,” I whispered.

Miri sat on the edge of her chair, held my hand, and broke down for real. “You’re okay,” she cried, the reassurance for herself more than me. “You’re okay. Oh God, you’re okay.”

I closed my eyes and ignored the lump in my throat. Concentrating hard, I was able to conjure up bits and pieces of that day. When a memory hit, my eyes flew open. “Miri. You were… hurt. Blood… So much blood.” The effort to force out so many words at once sent brutal, molten hot stabs of fire throughout my chest and shoulder.

“I’m fine, Jag. Just a bump on the head.” Miri huffed out an unamused laugh. “Apparently head wounds bleed a lot, so it looked worse than it was. The doctors checked me out and made me sit overnight for observation. I was freaking out the entire time, wondering if you were alive. Cat sat with me, but I… I was so worried.”

I glanced at her forehead. The small cut was scabbed over and the bruise had faded to a hideous green. Wait…

“How long… have I been here?” Once more, I groaned at the sheer intensity of the pain. I knew I was on some heavy-duty painkillers, but it still felt as if someone shoved a red-hot, glowing iron rod right into the wound.