A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

He squeezed the trigger.

The bullet went wide. Not due to Saddler’s aim; he would have hit his target had the stance of his whole body not been shifted. The bullet ended up in the wall beyond Jackson's head.

‘You bastard!’ the woman screeched. Saddler keeled forward. The blood from his cracked head splattered across her face. He came to rest by her feet. ‘He's killed my cat,’ she said, tears flooding over her eyes. ‘I came back for Delilah and he’s dumped her in the wheelie bin.’

Jackson stepped over Saddler and removed the bloody baseball bat from Mrs Saddler's hands, then eased her down into a dining chair. Julianna grabbed a handful of the clean tea towels, knelt next to Mark and applied pressure to his wound.

‘Ow!’ Mark’s eyes opened. ‘That hurts,’ he croaked.

‘Keeping telling me that and I’ll know you’ll live.’ She fought the temptation to drag him into her arms and hold him tight.

Chris rang for an ambulance and the police in that order.

Mrs Saddler stirred. ‘Is he dead?’ she said matter-of-factly. Her gaze blanked out the prone figure of her husband as if he was nothing but an inconvenient stain on the rug. The endpoint of the drama had been an anti-climax. Julianna in the end had done nothing heroic. Another wife had delivered the punch, and with an expression of emptiness, not hatred or anger. What Julianna had once feared to be was right there in front of her: a battered shell with no hope.

Jackson crouched and checked his pulse. ‘No. But he may not regain all of his faculties.’

‘I don’t care,’ Mrs Saddler said. ‘He hurt me so badly yesterday. Thought he could threaten me with this.’ She pointed to the bloody baseball bat. ‘He's been cheating on me for years and I let him. I let him do things to me... and... he killed my cat,’ she ended in a whisper, her shoulders hunched.

‘Where did you go?’ Jackson held her hand. His kindness was touching. His life was saved not by a highly trained bodyguard, but by a scorned wife.

‘I went to a cheap hotel. I should do the ironing, I suppose.’ She picked up a white shirt and crushed it with her manicured fingers. The shock turned to despair and she cried.

‘You’re a brave woman coming back here. I’ll make sure you’ll sleep in the best hotel.’

Julianna watched a once proud woman crumble. Another victim to add to the day's list. But she wasn't one and neither was Mark. The bleeding had stopped and between her and Chris, they managed to make Mark comfortable. Although white and shivering, he was conscious and lucid. The bullet had grazed his ribcage. A bloody wound, but not deep.

Chris picked up the gun with a handkerchief and removed the ammunition before placing it on the worktop.

Sirens wailed, then screeched to a halt. The evening wasn't over yet. A crime scene had been created. Jackson and Julianna had found out the truth, but it had nearly cost Mark his life. She turned her face away from him, fearful her tears might make him believe he was dying. He reached up and tilted her head back to face him.

‘It’s alright, Jules,’ he whispered. ‘It’s going to fine. We’re going to get through this; I’m not leaving you.’

  46

Julianna

Beyond midnight and into dawn, the owls had given up their hooting, so the birds took over with a chorus of chirping. Julianna lay on top of the guest bed wearing borrowed pyjamas. Next to her was Mark, similarly attired in a pair of Jackson’s pjs, which hung off his shoulders. She held his hand. His wound had been stitched and the ribcage patched up with bandages. He had refused to stay overnight in hospital

‘I'm going to write to Dad. Tell him what's happened, including you. And about Ellen in Dublin. Everything. Then, he'll know he's made a difference. What he set out to do eight years ago is over. Perhaps it might convince him to plead guilty and take up Jackson's offer.’

She nudged closer. Parts of her ached from fatigue and injury, parts of her ached for Mark. She had to be patient and wait for him to be ready. ‘And Ellen?’

‘She's in Scotland with Brett. I think she's actually going to be happy.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I'm happy for her.’

Julianna's eyes drooped. ‘I'm so tired. It's like a bomb has gone off in my head. How's the pain?’

Mark exhaled a gentle snore in reply.

By Sunday noon, they were both showered and dressed. Luke had already taken Sophia home. Hettie and the children were eating lunch in the kitchen. Jackson was ensconced in his study.

‘Jackson wants to see you both,’ Hettie said, spoon poised in hand while her daughter banged her grubby hands on her feeding tray. Hettie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, he’s quite himself again, which is important, don’t you think?’

She meant the status quo. Life needed normalising and quickly. No more wishing for adventure. It wasn’t how the journey was supposed to be any more. Routine day-to-day things would become important again, like driving Hettie to the gallery. Whether Hettie needed protection was irrelevant; Jackson would always provide it.

Jackson wore a different uniform: grey pleated trousers and a light blue polo shirt, which was monogrammed with gold lettering. Seated behind his desk, laptop open and an earpiece positioned ready to take calls, he looked every bit the chief executive again. The father and genial host had been put aside – Julianna had no doubt they were paying a visit to their boss.

‘Please, take a seat.’ Jackson pointed at two chairs positioned on the other side of his desk. He removed his earpiece. ‘You two look much better.’

‘Thank you,’ Julianna said. Mark was still pale and dosed up on painkillers, but she was free from