“I know. Which is why I’ve got to leave.”
A frown dipped her brows. “You’re not strong enough to leave.”
“I don’t have a choice. I’m a dead man if I stay. And not only that, I’m endangering you, as well.”
“Brady’s here. He got here last night after you passed out.”
“Fell asleep.” Her “passed out” description was probably more apt. The fact that he hadn’t heard a thing scared him.
A lot.
She gave a longsuffering sigh. “Whatever.”
“Where is he now?” he asked.
“Checking the perimeter.” She nodded to the radio next to her. “He said he’d let me know if he found anything.” She lowered her bare feet to the porch floor. “For now, there’s nothing to be alarmed about.”
“I’m alarmed you feel like you can sit out here in the open. Come inside, please.”
“It’s not exactly open.”
“It’s a screened-in porch. Not exactly bulletproof.”
She frowned, but she didn’t argue further and let him lead the way.
He took a seat on the couch, letting out a low grunt when he jarred his shoulder. “Did Brady have anything to say when he got here last night?”
“No, not much, other than that the syringe our attacker at the hospital had was filled with potassium chloride, and I could have picked a worse place to harbor a fugitive.”
“Hey, now. I’m not a fugitive. At least not in the usual sense of the word. It’s only the bad guys who’re after me, not the law.”
“They’re one and the same this time, aren’t they?”
He stilled. “I don’t want to believe it, but yeah, I think so.”
“They don’t like that you ratted one out without the proof to back it up. That cop code thing is strong.”
He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. “Yes. It is.” He paused. “Even my family has turned against me.”
“I noticed your sister was rather . . . um . . .”
“Unconcerned?”
“No, actually, she was very concerned. She seemed like she wanted to stay but couldn’t for some reason. She was torn.”
He could see that. “Her husband’s a cop. He probably forbade her from having anything to do with me.”
“And yet she came to the hospital to check on you.”
“True. We were close, once upon a time.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Potassium chloride, huh?”
“Yes.”
“That’s bad.”
“Very. If he’d managed to get that in you, you wouldn’t be here.”
He nodded.
“You must have some suspicions about your partner,” she said.
“Cole.”
“And his buddy, Paul? I didn’t care much for either of them, even though they were friendly . . . in an intimidating sort of way.”
“They didn’t seem to bother you any.”
She laughed. “I have three brothers. I’ve learned to hide my pounding heart and stand up to bullies.”
“Your brothers bullied you?”
“I would have said so at the time, but looking back, they were just big, annoying teases.”
His spine stiffened as a footstep creaked the wooden boards on the porch, and his fingers curled around the weapon he never left far from his reach.
She peered through a crack in the blinds. “It’s just Brady. One of my bullies . . . er . . . brothers.”
If he wasn’t so tense, he’d have laughed.
After a light rap on the door, her brother stepped inside. His eyes went straight to Isaac. “Glad to see you awake.”
“Thanks.”
He switched his attention to Ruthie. “Heard you say something about bullies.”
“Just that you have to stand up to them—and big brothers, too. Did you see anything out there?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure. Could be residents of the other cabins around here, or it could be someone trying to figure out which cabin to target.”
Isaac stood with a grunt. “That’s my cue to go. I’ve got to find Sally Peterson. She can help me find Howard, who has the evidence I need to prove my story and clear my name. He was going to give it to me, then decided he’d rather make money off it, the jerk. Fortunately, Sally doesn’t live too far from here.”
“You can’t go tracking someone down with your shoulder like that,” Brady said.
“I don’t have much choice. I’m worried about her.”
The window behind them exploded, sending Brady and Isaac diving for Ruthie.
seven
RUTHIE LANDED ON THE FLOOR, the back of her head smacking the hardwood with a painful thud. Stars danced in front of her eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t move.
The need for oxygen outweighed the fact that someone was shooting at them. She shoved. “Get off. I can’t breathe.”
Isaac had been faster than Brady. She must have caught him in his wounded shoulder because he gave a gasp of pain before rolling onto his good arm. He scurried to the shattered window, her weapon gripped in his right hand.
Brady was right behind him. “Stay down, Ruthie.”
The order was unnecessary. She had no intention of offering her head as a target.
Several more bullets blistered the side of the cabin.
Brady returned fire, then ducked back against the wall.
Another crack sounded, but this time no bullets entered the room.
Silence.
The radio crackled. “Clear! Shooter’s down!”
Ruthie raised her head. “Derek?” Her gaze swiveled to Brady. “You called in reinforcements?”
“I did. Aren’t you glad?”
“Thrilled.” She sounded nonchalant, but she had to curl her fingers into fists to hide the trembling.
“I need to get out of here,” Isaac said. “Obviously they know where I am now.”
Brady pulled a bag from beside the sofa. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go. Ruthie, you go home and stay out of this.”
She laughed. “You’re out of your mind, right?”
Brady blinked at her. “How so?”
“That’s how so.” She pointed at Isaac, who’d slumped into the recliner, looking pale and shaky once more. “He’s my patient and in no shape to go chasing after anyone. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t tear his stitches open. He’s only”—she glanced at the clock on the mantel—“twenty-six hours post surgery. He should be resting in a bed, not chasing killers.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. “Guess Derek called in the cavalry,” Brady said. “He’ll take care of things here. Let’s go.”
“You fired your weapon,” Ruthie said. “Don’t you have to stay here and make a statement?” She shook her head. “Why am I telling you this? You’re the cop, and you’re not going anywhere.”
“Then Derek.”
“You mean Derek who shot the guy and will have to make a statement, too? Come on, Brady. You’re both stuck here.”
“You stay here, too, Ruthie,” Isaac said.
“Not happening.” To her brother, she said, “We’ll be fine. We’ll stay in touch and make sure you know what’s going on.”
Brady sighed and frowned. “I can tell I’m not going to change your mind.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Fine. You guys are going to have to take off, and I’ll catch up to you in a little bit. Where exactly are you going?”
“To find Sally Peterson,” Isaac said. He rose with a grunt. “Thanks, Brady. I owe you.”
“Yeah, remember that, and don’t let my sister get killed because she’s helping you.”
“Brady!” Ruthie slugged him in the bicep. He didn’t even blink.
“He’s right,” Isaac said. “I can handle this on my own if you’ll let me have the keys to your car.”
“Then we’ll be pulling you out of a ditch because you fell asleep at the wheel. Or s
ome family will be planning their loved ones’ funerals because you lost consciousness for a brief moment.”
He flinched.
“I’m going,” she said. “I like my car too much to let all that happen.”
Brady let out a low whistle. Isaac laughed before he winced and held a hand to his shoulder.
Ruthie bit her lip and shook her head. “Let me grab my bag and the keys. Brady, pack those leftovers for us, will you? I brought a cooler. It’s on top of the refrigerator.”
“Ruthie—”
“Do it!” He raised a brow, and she drew in a breath. He wasn’t one of her interns to boss around. “Please. I’m going to Sally’s with Isaac, and I would like to eat when I get there. But first, I’m going to get the medical supplies in the bedroom.” She pointed down the hallway.
“Fine.”
Within minutes, they were in her car and headed down the road in the opposite direction of the sirens. “I’m sorry about this,” Isaac said.
“Don’t worry about it. And I was just kidding about liking my car that much. Truth is, I like you and don’t want to see you get hurt.” She glanced at his shoulder. “Well, hurt any more than you already are.”
“Thanks, Ruthie, I appreciate that.”
“Welcome. Now, put Sally’s address in the GPS and let’s get this over with. You need to eat something and sleep while I drive. The cooler’s in the back. There’s a sandwich on top for you. Bag of chips, too.”
“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
She stiffened, then huffed a low laugh. “Sorry, operating room training, I guess. It’s become a bit of a habit.”
“They’re not bad orders. I think I’ll follow them.”
“Good.”
Once she had directions, it didn’t take her long to find the highway and set the cruise control. They’d be there in a little over an hour.
The yard was cute and well kept, even though it was littered with toys. Isaac couldn’t remember how many kids Sally had, but if the toys were any indication, she had more than one.
They parked across the street and down two houses in order to be able to observe. “I just want to watch for a bit. See if anything shakes loose.”
“You think Howard is here?”
“I don’t know. I think it would be stupid of him. He’d be putting them all in danger. Then again, he has evidence implicating these guys in the thefts and he tried to blackmail them. I’m thinking stupid might be his middle name.”
“Whoa.”
“I know.”
“You left that part out.”
“Didn’t seem important at the time.”
“So, he may not be real interested in giving up that evidence.”
Isaac shrugged with his good shoulder. “I don’t care if he’s interested or not. It’s the only proof out there about what’s happening. These guys stealing from the evidence room are super careful. The only reason Howard got the drop on them is because they trusted the wrong guy—and Howard wasn’t interested in justice. He just got greedy and wanted a bigger cut.”
“How well do you know Howard, anyway?”
“Well enough. He’s a big Civil War buff and so was my grandfather. Howard would talk about the latest book he’d read or about some reenactment thing he was going to be in. He’s nice enough, and I enjoy our conversations, but we aren’t close friends or anything.”
“How is it that they haven’t tracked down his sister? You did without any trouble. Seems like they could do the same.”
“I don’t think so. I think Howard and Sally have been estranged for a while. He said something about that one time during one of our conversations. Something about how she thought his fascination with the Civil War was stupid, and he shouldn’t spend so much money on the paraphernalia. When I asked about her, he just shook his head and said they didn’t really talk. Then he changed the subject. The only reason I was able to find her is because I was sneaky.”
“How so?”
“Since I knew something was happening with the drugs and money in the evidence room, I’d kind of been keeping track of the guys who work in that area. He was one of them. I followed him to a restaurant thinking he might be meeting someone. Instead, he got on the phone, and I heard him mention something about coming into some money and bragging he had a plan. When he mentioned blackmail, I knew I was onto something. So I went over to his place later that night, started asking him questions, asked him to help me figure out what was going on.”
“Bet that went over well.”
“He kept his cool. I was impressed. Said he didn’t know what I was talking about and that he couldn’t help me.”
“He wanted his money.”
“Exactly. He’d left his phone sitting on the kitchen counter, and I snagged it on my way out. He ran the next day, but it was too late. He’d already made his blackmail demands. His place was shot up that night. If he’d been in there, he would have been Swiss cheese. My taking his phone probably saved his life. But it also allowed me access to information that the people he’s trying to blackmail don’t have—like his sister’s info.”
“Wasn’t there a passcode on the phone?”
“Yeah, but I’d watched him punch it in when we were talking.” He shrugged. “Most people aren’t too careful about that. And then when he left the phone sitting on the counter, just begging to be swiped . . . well . . .”
“What makes you think this time will be different? If he wasn’t willing to help you before, why now?”
“I plan to be a little more convincing.” Movement caught his eye. “The garage door’s opening.”
Within seconds, a Honda minivan backed out. The garage door shut and the van disappeared around the curve.
“Did you see the truck in the garage?” he asked.
“I did.”
“That belongs to Howard.”
She reached into the back and grabbed the bag Brady had sent with them.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m the closest thing you’ve got to backup. You’re not going alone.”
She pulled a weapon from the bag and smiled. “Good. Brady thought ahead. It’s registered to me and I know how to use it. And when not to use it. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?”
She checked it like an expert and shoved it into the waistband at the small of her back, then pulled the hem of her T-shirt over it.
He blinked. “You look way too natural doing that for someone who’s not a cop or a criminal.”
“I grew up playing cops and robbers. In my family, I had no choice. We graduated from pop guns to paintball. I had to be good at whatever we were playing, or I would always be the one getting shot. That didn’t sit well with me and my competitive spirit. Then we moved on to the shooting range. I can shoot with the best of them, including Mr. Hotshot Sniper Derek St. John. It irks him to no end.”
“I can imagine.” Isaac’s heart wanted to puddle at his feet. He was falling for this incredible woman he was just getting to know, and he had no business doing so when he had no guarantee he’d make it through the day alive.
But once this was over . . .
“Exactly how many guns do you own?”
“Seven.”
“Seven. And you’re a surgeon.”
“I am.”
“Okay, then. Well. That makes total sense.” He pointed toward her back. “Only pull that as a last resort, okay?”
She nodded.
“Promise me, Ruthie, please. And hang back.”
“How far back?”
“As far as you will. I can’t have you getting hurt. Please.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said please in the last five seconds.”
Man, she was stubborn. “I mean it.”
“Fine. I’ll leave the gun where it is unless one of our lives is in immediate danger. I promise. How’s that?”
“It’ll have to do.” He drew in a deep breath. “All right, let’s go knock on the d
oor and see who answers.”
While Ruthie was confident in her ability to shoot bull’s-eyes on paper targets, taking aim at a human being was another thing altogether. However, she simply couldn’t let Isaac face down a potentially dangerous man all by himself. Not that he hadn’t done it before, but she hadn’t been there during those times. This time, she was.
Isaac walked up the front steps and rang the bell.
And waited.
She stayed at the bottom and watched the windows. Ruthie had been the “bad guy” in enough training exercises with her brothers and sisters that she knew what they looked for when confronting a suspect.
When no one answered after the third knock and repeated punching of the doorbell, Isaac growled.
“Don’t think he’s here.”
“Maybe. Or he’s hiding.”
“What now?”
“I find a way in.”
“Um . . . isn’t that kind of like breaking and entering?”
“Kind of like it, yeah.”
“So, maybe you shouldn’t?”
“Probably not.”
But he was going to do it anyway.
“He might be hurt,” he said.
She raised a brow at him. “He might be.”
“Those guys could have caught up with him and his life could be in danger.”
“You’re stretching for exigent circumstances, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Still, it could be possible. I mean, we don’t know who was in that van. We just assumed it was his sister and her kids.”
He jerked and real worry filtered into his gaze. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
“Yes, actually.” He tried the knob. Locked. “Sally? It’s Isaac Martinez. You in there?” When he got no response, he touched the etched-glass window pane next to the door, then made a fist.
“Go through the garage window if you’re thinking about breaking that,” she said. “The door leading into the house is probably unlocked.”
He stared at her for a moment. “You really missed your calling.”
They made their way around to the side of the house where the garage window was low enough for him to climb into. He reared back to smash it, then stopped and gave it a shove upward. He shook his head when it slid on the tracks high enough for him to fit through. He looked at Ruthie. “I suppose you’re going to insist on coming.”
The Cost of Betrayal Page 27
