“You’re here. I’m here. In my opinion, life is good.” He closed his eyes again, and Honor leaned over him, giving his shoulder a brisk shake.
“Hey, Romeo, don’t fall sleep and leave your ladylove to worry.”
He opened his eyes again. “Did I mention I’ve got a headache?”
“Yes. Stay awake anyway. If you die, I’ll have to take up your slack on the team. That won’t be cool.” Her voice was shaking, and she looked as relieved as Ella felt, her face drained of color, her eyes bright. She tore strips of fabric from her jacket and used them to bind Sam’s wound.
“There. At least you won’t bleed to death. I’m going to find the ambulance. With the amount of sirens I’m hearing, I figure there must be one around.”
“How about Wade?” Sam asked, his focus on Ella, his gaze unwavering.
“Sam, you were just shot in the head, I don’t think you should worry about anything but staying conscious.”
“I wasn’t shot in the head. The bullet grazed my temple.” He touched the spot and grimaced, then levered up so he was sitting. “I’m probably going to need some stitches, but I’ve had worse.”
“Good thing you have such a hard head. Otherwise, you’d probably need a lot more than that,” Radley commented, moving closer, Ian still mumbling and complaining beside him.
“I appreciate your overwhelming sympathy. I’ll make sure to remember it the next time you’re injured,” Sam said, and Radley grinned.
“You’re obviously going to be just fine. Wren texted me and told me to bring our perp to the road. The sheriff is waiting to take him into custody. Since you’re planning to live, I’ll go ahead and do that.”
“Custody? For what?” Ian shouted, and Sam winced.
“You might want to take him now,” he suggested.
“I didn’t do anything! I was just walking through the woods, minding my own business, and the next thing I knew, you shot me!” Ian continued, as if Sam hadn’t spoken.
“You know, Doc,” Radley said, “that’s a really good story. Keep telling it while we walk, because you are going to be arrested, and you are going to be booked and you’re going to jail for a very long time. There’s not a whole lot you can say to stop it, but if you’d like to give us some information about the way you and your friends operate, hand over information about what you did with the teens who’ve gone missing, then maybe we’ll have room to discuss the terms of your prison stay.”
“I have a lawyer. I demand an opportunity to speak with him.”
“As soon as we can locate him, we’ll hook you up.” Radley led Ian away, and the sirens shut off. The world suddenly quiet again.
And it was just Ella and Sam, sitting in the darkness, looking into each other’s eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Gently, because he’d been injured, and she didn’t want to hurt him more.
“Me, too,” he murmured, his lips brushing her hair, then her cheek, then her lips. Softly. Tenderly. Just like before, and she could have cried with the beauty of it.
She broke away, breathless and touched and so very glad to be in this place with this man. “You should lie down until the ambulance crew arrives,” she suggested, and he smiled the way he always did. Open and honest and real.
“I have a better idea,” he responded, getting to his feet, steadier than she’d expected. Stronger than she’d thought he could be after losing so much blood.
“Sam, really, this isn’t a good idea.” She grabbed his hand, trying to stop him.
“I think it’s a great idea. We’ll go find the ambulance. I’ll get a few stitches and a few days of leave from Wren because of it.” He squeezed her hand and started walking, heading toward the lights that flashed through the trees.
“Medical leave is probably well deserved considering the fact that you were shot.”
“Grazed,” he corrected. “And usually I’d hate taking forced leave. I’m not so keen on sitting around my house waiting to get cleared to go back to work. This time, though, I can think of ways to pass the time.”
“Like?”
“Visiting you in Charlotte, seeing your house and your writing and you...enjoying the place that makes you most happy.”
“That would be wonderful, but there’s something you need to know, Sam.”
He stopped then, turning so they were face-to-face.
“If you’re afraid, I understand. If you want me to stay away for a while, I can do that,” he said, his tone as gentle as a butterfly’s kiss. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you, El. You’re everything I didn’t know I was looking for, and I’m so thankful God brought you into my life.”
“What I want,” she murmured, stepping close, laying her hand against his jaw. He was a head taller, and she levered up on her tiptoes, looking straight into his eyes, wanting him to see everything she felt, everything she meant. All the truth of her words. “Is to tell you that you are the place where I’m most happy. When I’m with you, I’m home.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just stood looking into her eyes, searching her face. Studying it the way she thought an artist would study his subject—as if every detail mattered.
Then he leaned down to kiss her again. With passion, promise and joy.
When he finally broke away, he brushed moisture from her cheeks, his palms calloused, warm and as familiar as sunrise.
“I hope those are happy tears,” he said quietly.
“The happiest,” she admitted.
“Then let’s go find that ambulance crew. I don’t know how you feel, but I’m ready to get out of here and get on with life. Wherever that leads us.”
She smiled at that and at him, taking his hand, kissing his knuckles.
“Us? I like the sound of that,” she responded.
He slid his arm around her waist, his fingers splayed against her side.
And they walked through pine needles and moonlight, heading for the emergency lights and emergency crews and whatever future God planned for them. Together.
EPILOGUE
Winter in Boston was everything Ella had expected: snow and cold, ice and wind. She saw and felt all those things as she stepped outside, walking into the hustle and bustle of the busy airport sidewalk.
Sounds and activity and people.
So much of everything.
She could have cowered away, scurrying to some quiet corner to wait for her ride.
She stood in the middle of it instead, people moving around her, suitcases thumping on the ground.
And she was okay.
Not afraid like she would have been months ago.
Not nervous or worried or anxious.
If Ruby was here, she’d be proud of the progress Ella had made, and of the adventure she was on. A weeklong stay in a bed-and-breakfast in Peabody to celebrate testifying at Ian Wade’s trial. He’d been convicted and sentenced to twenty years in prison. Turns out, Ruby had been onto Ian, and the dates on her computer aligned with when the teenagers went missing. That evidence alone would have been enough to implicate Ian, which is why he murdered her. Several high-level members of The Organization had also been arrested and, in exchange for plea deals and lesser sentences, had offered files and information that, along with Ruby’s notes, had led to the recovery of ten of the missing teenagers. Sam had said the FBI was hopeful the rest would eventually be located and freed.
Sam.
He’d been a bright spot in a very dark time.
He’d sat beside her while she’d waited to testify. He’d told her over and over again that things would be okay.
And he’d been right.
Things were okay.
The Organization’s Newcastle cell had dismantled. Bo had been offered immunity for his testimony, and he and his family had enter
ed witness protection. The medical clinic was under new management, and the small town was back to being the serene and peaceful place it had been before The Organization arrived.
And Ella...
She still missed Ruby. Every day, but she saw the bigger part of God’s plan. The way that He had used the tragedy of Ruby’s death to bring about the destruction of a crime syndicate that would have killed many more people.
It still hurt, but Ella imagined that Ruby would have been happy with the outcome.
She sighed, rolling her luggage closer to the curb and eyeing the drivers waiting near their vehicles. She had several hours to kill before she had to get ready for dinner with Sam, but she was still anxious to get to the bed-and-breakfast. Sam had to work late, but had promised to send a car to pick her up. She didn’t see a driver holding a sign with her name, but she knew Sam hadn’t forgotten. He never forgot his promises.
He’d visited her in North Carolina half a dozen times, coming for long weekends and staying in hotels nearby. And they’d done all the things he’d said they would the night he’d been shot, visiting her favorite places, spending long evenings at her house. She’d even shared her current writing projects with him, allowing him to read over her shoulder while she worked.
After the trial, she’d told him it was her turn to make the trip. He’d seemed surprised and touched. She supposed that was because he knew just how hard adventures still were for her.
“But you’d want this for me, Ruby. Wouldn’t you?” she whispered, imagining the words carrying up to Heaven and reaching her cousin’s ears.
“She would,” Sam responded, and she whirled around.
“Sam!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms. “I thought you couldn’t make it.”
“There was a meeting. A long boring one. When Wren found out you and I had a dinner date, she said I could skip it. So I’m here.”
“And I look like I just spent a few hours traveling,” she responded, running her hand over her hair. “If I’d known you were going to meet me here, I’d have freshened up before the plane landed.”
“You look beautiful. Like always,” he responded, kissing her, and then grabbing the handle of her suitcase. “I parked in the garage. I was hoping I’d make it in time to surprise you in the airport, but traffic was a bear.”
“Surprising me here is just as good. Actually, you surprising me anywhere is good.”
He grinned. “I’m glad you think so. I had an idea.”
“What kind of idea?” she asked as she followed him across a busy street and into a quieter parking garage.
“One that includes dinner and firelight and a horse-drawn carriage. It’s going to require another hour of travel, though.”
“An hour of travel with you?”
“Of course. I’m not going to send you off by yourself when you just arrived.” He smiled, and her heart responded—filling up with love for him. “There’s a farm outside Boston,” he continued. “This time of year, there are Christmas lights and bonfires. They serve dinner in a 19th-century barn that’s been converted to a small restaurant.”
“That sounds wonderful,” she responded. “This is wonderful. Being with you here. In the place you live and work. It makes me happy. Dinner at a beautiful farm will be an unexpected bonus to an already fantastic evening.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Ella,” he said, stopping beside a dark sedan and popping the trunk.
“What way?”
“Happy to be here with me.” He put her suitcase in the trunk, then turned to face her again. “Because I’ve been thinking about our situation.”
“I didn’t realize we had a situation,” she said, looking into his beautiful, familiar eyes. Life with him was so much fuller and brighter and more wonderful than she’d ever imagine it could be.
“What did you think we had?”
“A relationship?”
“We do, and it’s a great one, but this long-distance thing. It’s not working for me.”
“I didn’t know it was upsetting you so much,” she said, her heart sinking.
“It isn’t upsetting me. I just want more, Ella. I want to see you every day. Not every few weeks. I want to kiss you goodbye before I leave for work, and I want to kiss you hello when I return.”
“Sam—”
“I know this isn’t romantic. I’m not that kind of guy. It’s not flowers and candlelight and crowds of people looking on. It’s just me and you standing in a public place, and me not being able to wait for the horse-drawn carriage ride like Wren suggested.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a beautiful sapphire-and-diamond ring. “I love you, Ella. I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”
“You’re wrong,” she responded, her voice tight with tears of joy that filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “This is romantic, and you are that kind of guy. My kind of guy. I love you, too. Of course I’ll marry you.”
He smiled, slipping the ring on her finger and wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“You are the most amazing person I have ever met, Ella,” he whispered against her lips. “I can’t wait to call you my wife.”
And then he kissed her, sealing their love and their future together. A brand-new adventure, and Ella could almost hear Ruby’s joyful laughter.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, don’t miss the first book in the FBI: SPECIAL CRIMES UNIT series from Shirlee McCoy:
Night Stalker
And be sure to pick up these other exciting books by Shirlee McCoy:
Protective Instincts
Her Christmas Guardian
Exit Strategy
Deadly Christmas Secrets
Mystery Child
The Christmas Target
Mistaken Identity
Christmas on the Run
Available now from Love Inspired Suspense!
Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from Cowboy Bodyguard by Dana Mentink.
Dear Reader,
I hope you’re enjoying the FBI: Special Crimes Unit series as much as I am! Writing these stories has given me an opportunity to explore some of the darker aspects of life. It has also given me an opportunity to explore the most beautiful. Every day, I read news reports about the terrible things that go on in the world. These things challenge me to be kinder, to worker harder and to extend more grace. The world needs more of what God has offered—peace and restoration. Through His abundant grace and mercy, we learn to offer the same to those around us. In Gone, Ella and Sam have both been through challenges in life. Their faith is what pulls them through, guiding them to have hearts of forgiveness and love. I hope and pray the same for you, my friends. May the journey you’re on always lead you to peace, forgiveness and grace.
I love hearing from readers. You can reach me at [email protected] or visit me on Facebook or Instagram.
Blessings on your journey,
Shirlee McCoy
Cowboy Bodyguard
by Dana Mentink
ONE
Shannon Livingston ignored the splashes of blood on her scrubs. She shoved the mask off her face and dropped it into the waste container.
Her patient, T.J. Willis, was alive in Los Angeles Mercy Hospital—at least for the moment—a fall down the stairs having left him with a basilar skull fracture and internal bleeding. His rowdy biker clan was waiting for a report. Hospital security was already apprised. The nurses had done what they could to placate the members of the Scarlet Tide: easing off T.J.’s “colors” instead of cutting the clothing and making sure Willis’s entourage had a private waiting area for the more than two dozen biker brothers. They’d followed hospital protocol for the known “one percenters,” an ironic name to set apart the bikers who were o
utlaws from the 99 percent who weren’t.
The bikers gathered in the waiting area were not law-abiding motorcycle enthusiasts, according to the police bulletins. They were criminals, and they wanted only one thing from Shannon, something she could not give them: a guarantee that T.J. would be okay. She sucked in a breath and exited the recovery room and headed to the waiting area, past a nervous security guard.
The raucous conversation ended abruptly as all eyes slid to her. Shannon noticed a young woman, barely out of her teens, clutching a baby in a lace-trimmed blanket.
“I’m Cruiser. Talk to us, Doc,” said the largest biker, whose face was covered by a black beard.
Cruiser was flanked by several equally hairy individuals with similar tattoos. To his right stood a tall, lanky man with his hair in a long braid, who regarded Shannon with undisguised hostility. “T.J.’s gonna live, right? He’s gonna be all right?”
“I can’t give you any guarantees,” she said. “He sustained serious injuries in the fall.”
“We know what happened,” the braided man said, jutting his chin at the girl. “She did this to him, pushed him down the stairs.”
“I didn’t,” the girl said, swallowing convulsively. “It was an accident.”
Veins stood out on Cruiser’s jaw. “We’ll deal with her later.”
Shannon’s heart dropped. The woman’s dark eyes caught hers, wet with tears. “What’s your name?”
“Dina,” she whispered. “Dina Brown.”
“Not your business, Doc,” Cruiser snapped. “She’s ours to tend to.”
Ours? As if she was some sort of property. Shannon lifted her chin. “Are you threatening her?”
He walked closer, almost close enough that his wiry beard touched her face. She did not back down, though her throat went dry. “I don’t make threats,” he said. “Just promises.”
Gone Page 18
