Funny, it didn’t hurt much. There was a sharp burning, sure, and he was having trouble catching his breath—which he took to mean either his lungs were starting to fill with blood, or his chest cavity was flooding out—but overall he was comfortable. Maybe a little cool, but mostly comfortable.

So he was clearly in shock.

Guess that little bullet had nicked an artery.

He opened his mouth on instinct only, not because he wanted to pray or beg for the medics to come faster: He was drowning in his own body and that was the long and short of it.

And it was not a bad outcome, really. Thanks to the Four Lads, he knew he’d be seeing his mother soon. And he hoped to meet up with the lovely blond girl who hadn’t deserved to die as she had.

All that put him at peace.

Funny, as he pictured those English guys in their whites with their dog, he wished them well and felt sorry for them. Guess those angels had been wrong. He wasn’t the answer to their problems—although at least he’d gotten Vin and Marie-Terese on the right track.

And it was strange to know, but it had turned out the crossroads had been his, not Vin’s.

When he’d seen that gun muzzle up and all ready to rock-and-roll, his only thought had been about Vin and Marie-Terese. Saving her meant saving them both, and their love was worth so much more than one paltry life.

It was the first time he’d done that. The first time he’d not only been truly unselfish, but acted out of something other than anger or vengeance. And he’d never been more sure of anything, except the need to avenge his mother all those years ago.

Summoning his flagging strength, Jim focused his eyes and saw Marie-Terese and Vin bending over him. Vin had gripped his hand and was talking at him, the man’s face intense to the point of distortion, his features pulling together, his eyes burning. Jim tried to concentrate and get his hearing to work, but sound was beyond him. Best guess was that the guy was telling him to hold on, ambulance on the way, hold on, ambulance coming…. Oh, God, Jim, stay with us….

On the opposite side, Marie-Terese was silently crying, her beautiful eyes resplendent in her sorrow, her crystal tears falling off her cheeks and onto his chest. She had his other palm and was slowly rubbing his arm as if trying to warm him up.

He couldn’t feel a thing, but as he watched her stroke him, he was touched.

Unfortunatley, he didn’t have a lot of time left with them, and he didn’t have the breath to speak…so he did the only thing he was able.