Meant to Be (The Saving Angels 1)

“I was so scared you were going to die,” I said in a broken voice.

“I know. I could hear you. I wanted to answer you, but nothing would work,” Mark said in a scratchy voice. “What happened?”

I filled him in on everything that had happened, sugar coating nothing. I told him how I thought he was dead and had wished for death myself. I told him about the gun fight and Bruno saving us. Finally, he knew everything.

He held my hand through it all and his eyes clouded over when I told him about wishing for death. He cringed when he realized how close I had come to being shot and his eyes turned deadly when he heard that his dad tried to shoot me.

“I’m going to stop him,” Mark swore in a voice I had never heard him use.

I did not shy away from the suggestion since I had similar thoughts when he had shot Mark. He tried to destroy us and we would not rest until he was stopped.

With all my words spent, I laid my head on his heart while he stroked my hair. I felt all the emptiness in me disappear and soon I began to feel the familiar warmth from his touch spread through my body.

I turned my head and pressed a light kiss to his jaw and heard his murmur of approval. I was just about to trail more kisses along his neck when the door opened.

Two police officers entered the room. One looked to be in his sixties with more gray than brown hair on his head. He had the typical beer belly you expected to see on a cop from the cliché of being doughnut eaters. The second officer was the exact opposite. He was well over six feet tall and was as thin as an anorexic model. He looked only a few years older than me and had the kindest eyes I had ever seen. I felt instantly at ease in his presence.

I sat up straighter as they approached the bed.

“We don’t mean to intrude, but we have a few questions about the shooting,” the older officer asked.

“Okay,” I said, answering for both of us.

“Where did it happen?” He asked as he pulled a notebook out of his pocket.

I plunged into the story that I concocted. That we were walking on the beach when two masked men jumped us and how they grew angry when they discovered I had no purse. They knocked me down and when Mark tried to protect me they shot him.

“They ran away after they shot Mark. I think they thought he was dead,” I said in a shaky voice.

“You were very lucky,” the younger officer told us as they got up to leave the room.

“One more question?” The older officer said just before they reached the door. “Where did you get the van?”

I felt a moment of panic; I had not thought that far ahead. Suddenly the answer flashed through my head as Mark sent his thoughts to me.

“It was on the road when I helped Mark up off the beach. I know I stole it, but the keys were in the ignition and I felt I had no choice. You can tell the owner I’m sorry,” I added knowing they would never find the owner. I knew for a fact that all our captors had vanished.

The cops seemed satisfied and left the room after promising to try to catch the men who shot Mark.

I looked at Mark who returned my grim smile. We knew that the true perpetrators would not be caught; we would have to find them ourselves.

Another knock sounded on the door.

The person at the door knocked again slightly louder.

“Come in,” I called.

Sam stepped into the room followed by Shawn and another couple.

I knew who they were instantly. Lynn and Robert had found us.

Sam took over with introductions.

“Krista, Mark, this is Lynn and Robert,” Sam said pointing to the couple next to Shawn.

Lynn was taller than me, probably about 5’10.” She had dark brown eyes and brown hair that was cropped off in a cute haircut that I would have loved to try, but lacked the guts. She was dressed in jeans that had tears throughout them. They looked like the jeans girls spent hundreds of dollars on, but I could tell the tears were genuine, they were just worn. She wore a black shirt advertising a band I had never heard of. She was quiet and pretty and even though she had more piercings in her ears than most girls I knew, she didn’t seem over the top Goth, but more like a person saying, This is my style if you don’t like it too bad.

Her significant other though was a complete contradiction to her style. His light blonde hair was parted and combed nicely to the side. He had the prettiest shade of green-blue eyes I had ever seen on a guy. He wore chinos that looked like they had been pressed with a half of can of starch. He had a casual polo shirt on, but even that showed signs of being ironed using the other half of the can of starch. He looked like one of the models on the cover of GQ, the only thing missing was a sweater slung over his shoulder.