Lone Survivor

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “What on earth are you still doing in here, Mr. Raines?” The nurse’s sharp tone chopped through the expectant atmosphere. “This young woman has a concussion and needs her rest. Out you go now, and no arguments.”

  “But—” Both Karissa and Hunter spoke at the same time.

  “No. Arguments.” Pinning Hunter beneath a glare, the nurse stood aside from the door and swept an arm toward the hallway.

  Casting an apologetic look toward Karissa, Hunter rose. “Later then.”

  “You better follow through,” she murmured to him.

  He hung his head and walked out of the room as if the gallows held better prospects than the conversation that was to come.

  Karissa bit her lip against frustration as the nurse checked her vital signs. How did anyone expect her to rest when she had so many questions unanswered?

  * * *

  Hunter slumped in an uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting area opposite the nurse’s station and near Karissa’s room, where her door was plainly visible. Dark stares wafted toward him from the nurse at the desk. Other staff came and went from the nurses’ station as part of their patient-care duties, but the charge nurse stayed put, doing paperwork and glaring daggers at him. No doubt she saw his perch in the waiting area as defiance of her authority. She’d made it clear when she booted him out of Karissa’s room that he was supposed to be in his own room, which was up the hall.

  He’d gone for a little while, but sleep eluded him because he wasn’t able to keep watch over Karissa, and he hadn’t been able to stay put in his hospital bed. Since Hunter’s bullet wound had been a through and through with no shattered bones, his blood loss had been dealt with by a transfusion, and the possibility of infection had not seemed to materialize, they were going to discharge him in the morning anyway.

  Ignoring the charge nurse’s disapproval, he kept his gaze steady on Karissa’s door. Dark stares, similar to the nurse’s, flowed in his direction from the uniformed officer stationed there. Apparently, the officer didn’t appreciate Hunter’s vote of no-confidence, as evidenced by him taking up a position as back-up guard.

  Too bad.

  He didn’t feel the least bit guilty about his implied insult to the guard’s efficiency. Before his later ejection by the nurse, Hunter had been able to slip into Karissa’s room right past the officer who’d become distracted chatting with an attractive young LPN. What kind of protection was that?

  Besides which, after their recent experiences, Hunter wasn’t inclined to trust someone just because of a uniform. He was going to speak to the man’s supervisor tomorrow about the negligence, if that’s all it was. Hunter returned the officer’s glare with interest.

  He could do a better job of keeping Karissa safe and had already proven it...except now he’d caused her extreme distress with their interrupted conversation about his connection with her twin sister. Hunter’s heart squeezed in on itself. How long did he have before Karissa found out he was potentially to blame for her sister’s death? Not long. He’d soon have to tell her, or someone else would do it for him. The latter possibility sounded infinitely worse than the former. He shoved the dread down into a black hole in his mind.

  Personal consequences didn’t matter; Karissa’s recovery did. Would his revelation hamper that recovery? Maybe he should hold off on baring his soul. But how could he do that when she already knew he had something to tell her?

  At least he’d had one bit of good news since being admitted to the hospital. His brother, Jace, had showed up yesterday evening, safe and sound. It had actually felt great to have Jace read him the riot act for getting shot and generally behave like the smart-aleck kid brother trying to make like he wasn’t scared out of his gourd at his big brother’s close call with death.

  Jace had also filled him in on the bomb threat at the Umpqua hydroelectric station that had, thankfully, turned out to be an empty scare. However, no one had responded to the smoke from Hunter’s cabin because it was never reported—even by the volunteer spotters and the skeleton crew of personnel that had remained posted throughout the park despite the bomb threat. The federal park service was looking into why and how such a massive oversight had happened. Hunter had shared with Jace what Karissa had learned about their enemy having law enforcement in his pocket. Did the same go for park service personnel? Jace had left Hunter’s hospital room with a bee under his bonnet to find out, but Hunter had warned him to be careful, because this person who was after Karissa seemed to have a long and deadly reach.

  Now, Hunter was left with the precarious task of watching over a woman who likely would thrust him from her life the minute he told her his deepest, darkest secret. His personal attraction to Karissa on every level was completely irrelevant to his need to protect her. They had no future together because he couldn’t undo any negligence that may have caused Karissa the loss of her twin. It came down to this: if he couldn’t save Anissa, he was going to save Karissa. Maybe then he could live with himself for the rest of his life.

  “Mr. Raines.”

  The nurse’s sharp tones brought Hunter’s attention around to her standing at his shoulder with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Evidently, her patience had completely run out. “You need to return to your room and stay there until morning. Ms. Landon is being well looked after.”

  “I beg to differ.” Hunter sat up straight and met her stern stare. “I’m not questioning the medical care, you understand, but—”

  “No buts. You’re a patient here, so off you go to your proper bed.”

  “How about I discharge myself right now and just sit here the rest of the night?”

  A smirk lengthened the nurse’s lips. “Ah, but if you discharge yourself, then I will have to ask you to leave the premises.”

  Hunter groaned and scrubbed a hand across his face. When had his beard grown so straggly and wiry? He’d have to do something about that now that he was back in civilization. He didn’t want to scare small children or get hassled for looking like a vagrant, which may be one reason he’d brought out the best in Nurse Pleasant, sarcasm fully intended. Of course, he couldn’t shave the fur off completely, or he might still scare small children—with his burn scars.

  “All right then.” Hunter stood up and adjusted his sling. “I will go to my room if you will bring me a shaving kit that includes a small scissors.”

  “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  “It’ll be dawn in an hour or so. I’m used to being up by then, so I think I’ve done all the sleeping I’m going to do.”

  “Very well, sir.” She shooed him up the hallway to his door then turned on her heel and all but stomped away.

  Soon he was standing in front of his bathroom mirror snipping at the excessive beard, in between bouts of sticking his head out his door to make sure the cop was still guarding Karissa. He needed a haircut, too, but he didn’t trust himself as his own barber to that extent. He wasn’t doing such a great job at the beard trim, either, but at least he no longer looked like he’d been stranded on a deserted island for months and months—though the truth wasn’t far off from that. And his eyes were different, too, since the last time he’d stared into them before he headed for his mountain retreat over a year ago. Then they’d been sunken in his head with a brooding sort of haunted look. Now they were cool and sharp with purpose, like they used to be.

  Had the awakening come upon him unawares in the healing environment of the mountains or had Karissa and bitty boy brought it with their danger and their need? Hunter suspected the latter had completed the process begun by the former.

  Two things he was going to do this morning—after he made sure the state police assigned someone more competent to Karissa’s door—check that Kyle was safe and happy with his temporary foster family, and get his own cell phone so he could rejoin the twenty-first century. He had a feeling he was going to need any and every asset he could roun
d up. This thing was far from over, and as much as the cops thought he should bow out now, his gut said Karissa still needed him. Maybe that was wishful thinking—but he was going to go with his gut anyway.

  Speaking of gut, his stomach felt like he hadn’t eaten since last week. He should get dressed and visit the vending machine to tide him over while he waited for breakfast and the doctor dropping by to discharge him, whichever came first. Not bothering with his shoes yet, Hunter ditched his sling and threw on the clean jeans and T-shirt Jace had gone out and bought to replace his bloody clothes. Then he stepped into the hallway.

  His gaze lasered in on Karissa’s doorway. No guard cop, and the halls were vacant of personnel—including the nurse’s desk. No activity anywhere in view. In fact, the whole area was quiet—not the calm sort of quiet, but an ominous quiet.

  Hunter burst into a sprint, his bare feet spanking the cool tiles beneath them. A tiny part of his brain yelled caution, but if someone was going after Karissa, he might not have the spare seconds caution required. He hit her door with his good shoulder and catapulted inside to spot someone in a doctor’s smock standing over Karissa.

  Not Dr. Werth. This guy had a shaved-bald head, and the face-masked impostor was jabbing a needle into her arm.

  SEVEN

  A prick in her arm jerked Karissa awake from a sound sleep. The gloved hand holding the syringe that protruded from the crook of her elbow was suddenly ripped away, leaving the needle embedded in her flesh. The masked doctor who had been administering the drug began cursing and striking at an assailant with his fists. The attacker who had halted the injection defended himself with a strong right arm and a feeble left.

  Oh, it was Hunter. No wonder it had taken her a few seconds to recognize him. He’d trimmed his beard away to a somewhat fashionable stubble, but his thick hair still swung around his broad shoulders. Why was he interfering with a doctor? And why was a doctor reacting with violence?

  Chilling realization washed over her. The man who had been injecting something into her arm was no doctor. This was another attack from whoever was trying to kill her. If only she knew why she was marked for death. Her pulse rate fluttered and spiked.

  The two men flailed at each other. Fists smacked flesh, and objects in the room crashed to the floor or flew against walls, but Karissa’s gaze fixed on the syringe dangling from her arm. From the fluid level showing in the gauge, whatever the guy had been trying to give her appeared to still be in the tube—or at least most of it was. She reached across her body and, with cautious fingers, dislodged the needle from her flesh and flung the syringe away from her.

  Surely, with all this racket, hospital staff must be on the way. And what about the officer that was supposed to be guarding her door? The thoughts floated hazily through Karissa’s wounded head, but then a gunshot brought her bolt upright. The sudden movement stabbed white heat through her brain.

  Blackness edged her vision, but she made out the figures of Hunter and the face-masked man struggling for possession of a firearm. Both men’s hands were wrapped around the weapon with the gun barrel pointed upward.

  Another report sent a bullet into the ceiling. The fake doctor’s back was toward her, and Hunter’s head topped the guy’s shoulder, facing her. From the pallor of Hunter’s flesh, the gritted teeth and the sweat glistening on his forehead, she had to guess he was weakening, no doubt due to the wound he was still recovering from. She had to help somehow.

  Head pounding and heart flailing against her ribs, Karissa slipped out of bed, gaze searching for some kind of weapon to defend herself—and her rescuer. There! The IV pole that had been left in her room after the IV port had been removed from her hand. She hefted it and gave the fake doctor a hearty whack across the back. The man grunted and attempted to turn toward her. Hunter took advantage of the distraction and flung the man against the wall. The pistol fell to the floor. The fake doctor turned and ran from the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Hunter leaped as if to follow him but abruptly halted and swiveled toward her.

  “Are you...all right?” His question emerged in winded puffs.

  One corner of his mouth was split open and oozing blood, and a red stain was spreading across the white bandage on his left arm.

  “I’m fine,” she managed, but with a quaver in her voice. “It looks like your arm is reinjured, though.”

  The door banged open, and Karissa jumped then froze, staring. A young, uniformed police officer filled the opening. His pale blue eyes had a glazed look, unfocused, and a trickle of red flowed from beneath the hairline at his temple down to his chin and dripped onto his uniform shirt.

  “Some doctor clocked me on the head and threw me in the supply closet,” he said, words slurring. “What’s going on in here?”

  Karissa sank onto the bed. “Someone tried to kill me. Again. Would someone please tell me why this is happening?” Her question came out with a hint of a wail.

  Hunter shook his shaggy head. “I wish I knew.”

  Multiple rushing footsteps approached, and hospital personnel flooded into the room. Karissa was ushered immediately to another room so the authorities could process her former room as a crime scene. Hopefully, she’d know soon what substance her assailant had been trying to inject into her vein. From her new bed, while a nurse checked her blood pressure and pulse, she offered a weak smile to Hunter, who was perched in his self-appointed guard post in a chair at her bedside. He reached out and squeezed her hand. Warmth traveled up her arm from the comforting human connection and delivered a slight thaw to the chill gripping her core.

  An intern was cleaning his arm wound and clucking at him that he needed new stitches.

  “You’ll have to do it right here,” Hunter said. “I’m not leaving this room. Where were you people when Karissa was being attacked?”

  The intern glanced at her, gaze sheepish. “Multiple false summons all over the wing.” Then he shook his head at Hunter. “I’ll be back shortly with sutures for your arm.”

  The intern exited the room.

  Karissa punched the mattress of her bed. “This is too ridiculous! I’ve lost all my family, except baby Kyle and...” Her voice fought the sudden tightness in her throat. “And I don’t have a clue who is masterminding this or why.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  She met his gray gaze. “I feel safer with you than with anybody else. But I can’t make sense of it. You still haven’t told me. Why do you care enough to risk your life for me?”

  Hunter’s tan faded as the blood receded from his face. He sucked in an audible breath then his expression hardened as if he’d reached a resolve. “You deserve to know. I was a firefighter before—”

  “All righty, we need to get some statements here,” an authoritative male voice announced.

  Karissa ripped her gaze away from Hunter’s intense face. She turned her head toward the door to find a plainclothes detective flashing his badge at them.

  “Are you okay, miss?” The detective pocketed his shield.

  “I—I guess so. For now, anyway.”

  The lanky, middle-aged man pulled up a chair on the other side of her bed from Hunter. “I’ve met your friend here.” He nodded toward Hunter then fixed his gaze on Karissa. “I’m Detective Sykes from the Oregon State Police. I was already nearly here when I got the call about another attack on you, Miss Landon. Tell me about that.”

  Volleying between her and Hunter, with a few questions from the detective interjected, the morning’s story was fleshed out. At the end of it, Sykes clucked his tongue.

  “Another narrow escape.” The detective squinted hard eyes at Hunter. “You keep stepping between this woman and the people who are after her.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Hunter matched the detective’s stare.

  “Just that you’re taking a lot of risks, sir.” The man offered a bland smile and then turned his att
ention on Karissa. “Now, I was told by your doctor, who wouldn’t let me talk to you yesterday even after you had awakened, that you are experiencing retrograde amnesia due to your head injury. He said you can’t remember anything about the incident where you were broadsided by attackers on the road. Have you remembered anything at all yet?”

  She shook her head and winced at the painful protest from her bruised brain. “No, sir, I haven’t. The doctor said that I may never recover that sliver of memory. I can remember everything up to the attack on the road, but if you need to know what happened to land me and Hunter in the hospital, you’ll have to talk to him.”

  The detective frowned then raised an eyebrow at Hunter. “All righty, Mr. Raines. We’ll start with you, because your memories are complete. Take it from the top and run through everything you know about events beginning two days ago through this morning. I’ve studied the statements you gave yesterday, but I’d like to hear it all again. Ms. Landon, please feel free to interject any details Mr. Raines may skip over in regard to events prior to the SUV broadsiding the deputy’s car.”

  Karissa lay very still and listened with all her might to the details of a fascinatingly scary account of the past two days of her life, most of which she remembered and a little of which she didn’t. Hunter did an excellent job of highlighting all the pertinent details, so she had little to insert. However, at one point she sat up on her elbows.

  “Kyle. Is he still all right? Is he safe? A fresh attack against me makes me wonder if there have been any further attempts on Kyle.”

  The detective held up a forestalling hand. “When I checked this morning, Miss Landon, Kyle was doing fine in foster care.”

  “Then there no relatives to take him? I mean, I know I’m the last on Nikki’s mother’s side, but I’m not all that familiar with her father’s side.”

  Sykes frowned. “Apparently, no one has been located yet. Don’t worry. We don’t think whoever is after you is targeting the infant. Though we are keeping an eye on him, it makes more sense to think he was a collateral issue to pursuing you.”