Yeah, the guy who has the evidence we need to lock everyone behind bars for a long time.
And then he started moving straight in my direction. I didn’t think he could see me. It was one of those horribly unlucky moments.
Crunch. Closer.
Scuff. Nearer.
I had to move. Even though he hadn’t spotted me behind the shrub along the fence line, he would soon be tripping over me. I patted my chest to make sure everything was secured well enough to make the run. I couldn’t risk anything happening to the evidence.
And then I ran like my life depended on it.
“Hey! Stop, or I’ll shoot!” the faceless voice yelled as I sprinted for the back of the fence.
Good luck shooting a guy wearing all black on a nearly moonless night…
I planted a boot against the fence and jumped up, grabbing the top of the fence. I pulled myself up, but as I reached the top, I felt the wood give way. I began falling at the same time I heard the ominous and unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
I slammed against the fence as a searing pain speared through my butt.
He’d hit me. He shot me in the ass.
Maybe he had some type of night vision. With a grunt, I hauled myself over the top of the broken fence with my upper body strength. I landed hard on the ground on the other side. I stood up, and the pain shot through the back of my leg all the way up to my back.
But I didn’t have the luxury of taking injury inventory. I had to get away before he caught me. I half limped, half sprinted through the trees to the flat spot where I’d parked the rental car. I climbed in, careful to put weight on my uninjured side.
I’d never been shot before. I knew it was a possibility in my line of work, but I’d never thought of the possibility of getting shot in the ass.
There was nothing practical or convenient with getting shot there.
It was difficult lying on my left side trying to drive the car. I could feel the blood soaking my jeans. Without a doubt, the guard would have notified Sullivan of the intruder, which meant they would be scouring every lead to find out who knew about the warehouse.
I couldn’t go to the hospital. They might end up checking there to see if anyone had shown up with a gunshot wound.
Not to mention, the ER docs always got a little jumpy when a gunshot victim came in. They had to follow proper protocol of notifying the police. Patient privacy only extended so far.
I needed help. And there was only one person I knew I could trust, no matter what we’d been through.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Saidy
I shut my door and locked it. I’d sat on the porch a little longer with my mom before I made the drive home. She’d told me I should spend the night in my old room and eat breakfast with her and Dad in the morning.
If I didn’t have to go to a quick consultation in the morning, I would have done it. Nothing beat my mom’s breakfasts. It was something she’d learned from her mother. While Grandma could be a real pain in the we-all-know-where, she was the queen of breakfast. When she was in an indulging mood, she would make a huge breakfast that would leave you full for weeks. Mom did the same thing, and I loved it.
With a heavy sigh, I double-checked the lock. It hadn’t slipped ever since Fletcher had fixed it.
I didn’t bother turning on the living room bank of lights. There was no point to it if I was going to go straight to bed.
But then I remembered that I hadn’t closed my curtains for the night. I flicked on the lamp, then drew my curtains over the big bay window. I turned on the porch light for good measure. I liked to feel a little safe at least.
I set my purse down on the entryway table, then made my way into the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of iced tea, deciding something cold sounded good after all the salsa I’d eaten. I blamed Fletcher for driving me to the spicy salsa.
I needed some mouth wash to get rid of the after taste.
I stopped abruptly when I stepped into my hall. I quietly set my iced tea on the shelf lining the hallway wall.
There was a set of legs laying across the floor.
Actually, it was a whole body lying on the floor.
“Fletcher! You have to stop coming here all the time. You can’t just show up here and expect me to act like this is normal. What are you doing now? Replacing my creaky floorboard?” I slammed my hand against the hall light switch. Flooding it with fluorescent light.
I hiccupped as I stared at Fletcher as he rolled onto his side.
His eyes were hazy, and he had a grimace on his face. “Hey there, beautiful.”
“What’s wrong? What happened to you?” The pain on his face was evident.
He took a big breath and lifted his hand from where it rested against the back side of his hip. Blood dripped onto my hardwood floor.
I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat as I sank to the floor next to him.
I fumbled with my phone in my pocket, desperate to call for help. I knew how to bandage a paper cut. I didn’t know how to bandage something that looked like it would kill him without immediate attention. Nothing should bleed that much.
He leaned forward and pulled my phone from my hand. “You can’t call anyone.”
“Fletcher, you’re bleeding everywhere. We need an ambulance.” My voice shook as I spoke. I stood up and ran to the bathroom, frantically searching for a first aid kit I was sure I had somewhere. I found it in the bottom of my linen closet. I grabbed a stack of clean rags along with it. When I reached Fletcher again, he was on the phone to someone.
“Yeah, thanks.” He hung up and looked at me as I gently peeled up the hem of his shirt and folded down his jeans a little.
“Did you call 9-1-1?” I asked as I tried my best to gently clean away the puddling blood.
“No, I called someone who could help.” He pressed a hand over mine helping me clean off the wound.
“Oh, you poor thing. What happened? Why can’t I take you for help? And don’t you dare tell me it’s because it’s not that big of a deal. I can see it, Fletcher. It looks bad.”
“If I don’t make it, I want you to know something,” he said between slow breaths.
“No! Don’t you dare say anything like that!” My fingers refused to cooperate as I struggled to unbutton the front of his pants. The worst of the injury seemed to be just below his waistband.
“You know this isn’t exactly the way I pictured you unbuttoning my pants,” he said with a laugh that was more of a wheeze.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” I promised through a sob. He was bleeding out on my floor. He wouldn’t let me call the ambulance. I felt so helpless.
“I love you, Saidy Perez. I always have. And I always will.”
Someone was crying and it sounded like a dying goat…I was fairly certain it was me.
“It always looks worse than it is.” He tried to laugh, but it came out like a groan.
A loud knock sounded on the door. Now was not the time for visitors.
The knock sounded again. “You said you called for help!”
I carefully placed a rag on his hip over the bloody patch. I still couldn’t find the source of the bleeding. “That must be them. Is it a private medical transport?”
Fletcher caught my hand before I could stand up. The slick blood on his fingers sliding across my hand. My stomach lurched as I tried to focus on his eyes. “Wash all the blood off. That’s not my friend. Don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
His eyes were hazy from the pain.
I stood and washed my hands quickly in the bathroom sink just a couple feet from where he lay in the hall.
“Who are you expecting?” He rasped out at another impatient knock.
“I don’t know. It’s late—no one’s supposed to be coming over.”
“Don’t answer that.”
More knocking followed.
“I have to answer.”
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone I’m here. They might hurt you if they k
now.”
“I won’t tell anyone you’re here.”
Fletcher grunted and nodded. He reached behind his back, pulling a 9mm from his waistband. I hadn’t even noticed the holster attached to the inside of his pants. I didn’t even know he owned a gun. “Answer the door and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“Fletcher…what is that?”
“A gun?” he asked with a lopsided smile.
I would have time to ponder that thought later because right now someone was pounding on my door.
“It’s me…Sullivan,” a familiar voice called through the door.
“I’m coming,” I called as I walked back into the living room. I snapped a light on and unlocked the door, pulling it open to find Sullivan smiling at me on my porch.
“Sullivan! What are you doing here?” I was beginning to suspect my hunch had more and more to do with this situation. If it had been Sullivan who hurt my Fletcher, he’d be wishing for that 9mm by the time I was done with him.
He lifted his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I know this seems so pushy, but I was driving through the neighborhood and saw your porch light on. I know you keep saying you’re trying to get over your boyfriend, but I’ve been hoping I could collect on that friend dinner you promised me.”
He smiled. “Your boyfriend isn’t here right now, is he?”
“My ex, you mean?” I asked through a tight smile.
“Oh, of course. I didn’t mean it like that, I just was wondering if he was still trying to win you back. I like to know the competition before I start.” His wink should have been flirty, but instead it was scary.
“It’s really great of you to think of me,” I told him. “I’m just a little busy right now.”
“Oh, is something wrong?” The concern in his voice didn’t match the glint in his eyes.
“Nothing much—” A thump pulled both of our attention to the hall behind me.
“What was that?” he asked sharply.
“That was just my, uh, my dog.”
“You have a dog?” he asked, not believing me.
“Yes, yes, I have a dog.”
“I didn’t know you had a dog.”
I laughed shrilly. “Well, it’s not my dog. It’s my Grandmother’s dog I’m watching for her. It gets nervous by itself.”
“Is it hurt?”
“Why do you ask that?”
He pointed to my hand. There was a small splatter of blood on the back of my hand that I had missed when I’d wiped it off with the rag.
“It got in a fight with a German shepherd on our walk.”
Sullivan’s face crumpled into a frown. “I’ll come in and help. I know of a great veterinarian we can take it too.”
“Oh no, she’s nervous around strangers. I’ll have to take her to her regular vet in the morning. It’s really not that bad. Just her leg.” I might as well have said she cut off her head and we’d sew it back on at a more convenient time. “Can I call you back about that dinner? I don’t want to leave the dog too long.” I forced a smile.
A surprisingly convincing whine sounded from down the hall.
Sullivan nodded with a skeptical look at me. I pretended like nothing was wrong.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your…dog.” He glanced over my shoulder again. I shifted the door a little more closed.
My smile was as forced as could be. I hated lying.
“Okay. Well, have a nice night!” I said before I closed and locked the door.
Luckily, my curtains were already closed. I didn’t have to worry about him seeing my sigh of relief when I closed the door.
I stared through the peephole of the door until I saw the lights from Sullivan’s car fade away down the street. I hurried down the hall toward Fletcher.
He wasn’t in the hall anymore. A few more steps and I found him in the bathroom, lying on my plush white rug.
It wasn’t white anymore.
“Fletcher!” I leaned down and lifted his head. “You shouldn’t have tried to move when you were hurt this bad.”
“Issss fine,” he whispered.
“I don’t care what’s happening, I’m taking you to the emergency room,” I muttered as I tried to roll him onto his back. He groaned and opened his eyes when I pulled his head onto my lap.
“Sullivan gone?” He mumbled as he turned his face to lean into my hand.
“He’s gone. He saw the blood on my hand. Why is he so interested in you?”
He ignored me. “If we’d had a dog, you wouldn’t have had to lie.”
Even bleeding out, he was making an argument for owning a dog. “You made a convincing-enough dog whine.”
Fletcher reached up and squeezed my hand. “You’re always taking care of me. You’re the best girlfriend a guy could ask for.”
His eyes closed and I didn’t bother correcting the girlfriend part. Right now, he needed me. And I wasn’t going to turn him away.
“Fletcher, I have to get you to the hospital,” I whispered as I looked at the rag pressed against his waist. The blood was seeping through the triple-folded material.
“Help’s almost here.”
His voice startled me. I thought he was asleep.
His phoned chimed and he held it up enough to read the screen. “Go open your back door.”
“What?” I tried to read the phone screen, but he’d already turned it off.
“Open the back door.” He grunted.
I carefully laid his head back down and hurried to the back door. I took a deep breath and unlocked it. Not sure what I’d find on the other side. I slowly pulled it open. I yelped when I spotted a man standing in the shadows of the small porch.
He hushed me and brushed past me inside. He pulled the door out of my hand and closed and locked it.
“Wait, it’s you,” I said as I stared at him.
“Hi, Saidy.” He smiled at me. It was the man who shoved me into the closet at The Bar. The one who claimed to be Fletcher’s friend.
He turned around and walked down the hall toward Fletcher, as though he knew exactly where he should go.
“You’re not here to hurt him, are you?” Not that I was sure what I would do if he did plan on hurting him. I was horribly outmatched.
“What?” He stopped and turned to look at me. “I thought he would have told you by now.”
I shook my head.
“Aw, hell. He’s better at keeping his mouth shut than I thought.”
“Ha,” I said as I brushed past him. Fletcher really needed to start running his mouth if he didn’t want me to go crazy. I had no idea what was going on, and I wanted to scream. “You’re here to help? We need to get him to the hospital.”
“We’ll see,” he said as he stepped aside and let me lead the rest of the way into the bathroom.
Fletcher was propped against the bathroom vanity now.
“I told you we didn’t want any holes in this investigation,” West commented with a dry chuckle.
Fletcher grunted as West knelt down beside him and propped open the bag he’d brought with him.
“What happened?” he asked gruffly as he reached for the bloody rag.
“I was shot,” Fletcher replied with a hiss as West peeled the rag off the wound.
“You were shot?” The room was beginning to look a little fuzzy. Like there was a light haze of red floating through the air. “That’s it. I don’t care what is going on, I’m calling the police right now.”
I picked up my phone from where Fletcher had dropped it on the bathroom floor, ready to call 9-1-1.
“The cops are already here.” Fletcher ground out as West began swiping away the blood with alcohol wipes.
“You called them?” I asked.
“Is there a way I can answer this later?”
“No! Somebody shot you! And I need to know who!” I exclaimed.
West nodded. “So do I. Is it a bust?”
“They didn’t make me. It was when I was jumping over the fence. I was too far away for them
to see. They didn’t even know what they were shooting at. It was one of his new guys. It was a lucky hit.”
West pointed to the stack of alcohol wipes. “Open another one of those for me.”
I picked up a couple and ripped open the packages.
“Get a bag for me to set all of these dirty ones in.”
I opened the cupboard and pulled out a garbage bag.
West scooped up the dirty wipes and stuffed them into the bag as I held it.
“Where are the cops? I swear, if you don’t start explaining why you’ve been shot and are bleeding all over my white rug, I am going to flip out like you’ve never seen before,” I threatened quietly.
Two sets of eyes stared at me. West looked slightly scared, but Fletcher had a small smile despite his furrowed brow. “But I always like it when you flip out. No one gets angry quite like you do. Remember when we first met, and you ran down the mail truck barefoot across gravel?”
“That will seem like nothing if you don’t start talking,” I promised.
Fletcher lifted an arm up to rest his head against it.
I knelt down beside him and brushed the hair off his forehead. I lifted his head onto my lap and brushed the sweat from his temples.
“Saidy, I haven’t been honest with you. And I don’t know an easy way to say this. You will have every right to hate me when I tell you the entire story.”
“I wish you’d tell me and let me decide for myself.”
He winced as West poured something onto his hip. “I’ll never live down getting shot in the butt.”
“Nope,” West agreed.
I was two seconds away from exploding. Fletcher winked at me and leaned into my hand.
“I’m a police officer, Saidy. So is West.”
My hand paused at the trail along his hairline. I couldn’t possibly have heard him right.
“I’ve been working undercover ever since you met me. Exploratory Tech Solutions is my cover company.”
“What?” This didn’t make sense.
No—he couldn’t possibly mean that.
“I met you right after I went undercover.”
“What?”
It was the only word I could seem to handle. My boyfriend was a police officer. He was doing undercover work.
World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) Page 16
