Jesse. She couldn’t even think of him lying there. She couldn’t contemplate the fact that Patrick might have spared a second or two to finish him off. If that second bullet hadn’t done the trick.
She ran, her sandals thunking against the ground. She could hear the river. The Rio Grande was deep here. It also cut her off. The road was to her right, but Patrick would be able to see her there. She was safer in the cluster of white trunked aspens and thick pines.
“Gemma? Gemma, we can work something out.”
Yeah, like she was falling for that one. She caught her breath behind the trunk of a tree. As quietly as she could, she unzipped her purse, silently cursing Nate for keeping her gun after he’d found out she’d never actually taken a gun safety class. She had a place in Alexei Markov’s next workshop. Apparently being a mob hit man had also made him an expert in gun safety. She wasn’t allowed to carry concealed until Alexei signed off on it. Nate had offered her a shotgun, and she’d flipped him off.
Damn, she wished she had that shotgun now.
“Come on, sweetheart. You know you don’t belong here. These people are nut-job idealists. They don’t understand how the world works.” He was using his courtroom voice on her, laying the charm on thick.
She used to think he sounded smart and trustworthy, but now she saw him for what he’d been all along. A slimy slickster who wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him in the ass. Jesse’s gruff but honest rumble was music to her ears. Cade and his frustrating Atlas complex was so much more lovable and true than Patrick. She took a deep breath as her hand sank into her voluminous bag. Where was it?
Lipstick. Snack-sized bag of almonds. Notepad. God, why did she have all that crap? How many pens did one woman need?
“Do you know who owns Tremon? On paper it’s Martin Tremon. But who is his biggest stockholder?”
Gemma stopped. Senator Allen Cameron was the largest stockholder. Senator Allen Cameron, who was about to run for president on a green energy platform. He was ahead in all the polls. He was the perfect blend of politician and forward-thinking businessman. She’d heard some interesting rumors about the senator’s personal life. There were rumors of one son who didn’t speak to him and another who he’d swept under the rug long before, but nothing that would cost him the election.
A company he was heavily invested in polluting a town to the point that children were dying—oh, yeah, that would do it. Cameron hid his investments under cloaks of anonymous corporations, but someone could untangle that web and likely would. If he wanted to win the election, Calvin Township had to be clean.
Patrick had to kill her. He had to. Then he had to kill Nell and Henry and anyone else who might know something about this.
“Sweetheart, you know he’s going to win the election. And I’m going to end up working at the White House. You can come with me.”
In a coffin.
“You know we can get out of this,” Patrick continued. “All you have to do is tell that idiot sheriff about how your boyfriend out there was screwing around with the dipshit activist and how her husband killed them both and then turned the gun on himself.”
So that was supposed to be his out. Nate would never believe it. But Patrick was arrogant. He thought he could get away with anything. Air horn. Why was she carrying that stupid air horn that, according to everyone, would just piss off the bears?
And there it was. Finally. Pepper spray. She flipped the safety button off and waited.
“We could rule Washington, babe,” Patrick promised. “You and me. We’ll leave Giles and Knoxbury behind and ride Cameron’s coattails all the way to the Supreme Court.”
She couldn’t tell where he was. The sound seemed to bounce off the trees, making it seem like his voice came from everywhere all at once. And then there was the sound of her heartbeat. It threatened to pound out of her chest, an alert to anyone and anything close that she was here and waiting to be taken down. Despite the cool evening air, she’d broken into a sweat. Her hand shook as she clutched the vial of pepper spray. She’d never used it before. Even in New York, she’d felt fairly safe.
“Or I can kill you here and frame the dumbass myself.” Patrick moved from behind the tree. The darkness couldn’t mask the self-satisfied smile on his face. “Guess your smarts don’t win over my ambition after all.”
But her pepper spray beat his gun because she didn’t hesitate. She did exactly what the instruction manual had said. She sprayed, moving her hand back and forth in a waving motion.
Patrick screamed and the gun went off, narrowly missing her.
She took off because he was firing blind now. She ran as fast and hard as she could, looking back to see if he was coming.
And then the world tilted on its axis. Or at least that was the way it felt. Her foot hit a rock and she fell, her hands going out to catch herself, but she didn’t hit the ground. Water filled her world. Cold and rushing fast. She hit the water and started to go under.
So freaking cold. She’d never felt cold permeate her skin the way the waters of the Rio Grande did. She tried to kick up. Her hand broke the surface all the way to her elbow. She could feel the air.
But she couldn’t get to it. Her left foot moved freely, but her right foot had jammed when she fell. She was caught on a fallen log, her foot tangling in its branches, holding her under.
Panic swamped her every sense. Jesse was dying and so was she. How would Cade survive?
She pulled and pulled and tried to get her foot free. The sandal was stuck. And no one would know where she was. She would drown so close to the surface.
Air horn. It might not scare the freaking bears, but it could do what it had been made to do—alert someone to where she was.
It might be Patrick. Or it might be Henry. He could have come looking for her.
A bullet or a savior. Anything was better than dying like this. Cold and alone.
Live. Her one new mandate. She wasn’t going to break it now. She dug into her bag, items she no longer needed floating away with the river.
She grabbed the air horn and let the rest go.
With one final hope, she thrust her arm up and pressed the button.
* * * *
Cade shot out of the truck the minute Nate hit the brakes.
“Goddamn it, Cade!”
He could hear Nate yelling, but he didn’t care. In the distance, he saw red and blue flashing signals. Either the night shift at the sheriff’s or Ty. God, he hoped it was Ty.
“We’re over here.” Nell was on her knees over a prone figure.
Jesse. Oh, his heart nearly stopped as he saw Jesse lying there on the ground. His best friend. His brother. Why the fuck had he left? It had been easier than staying. Easier than trying to be a better man. And now Jesse’s blood soaked the ground around him.
Someone plowed through, shoving him to the side. Caleb Burke. He set his kit on the ground. “Baby, I need some light. Alexei, you keep anyone who fucking comes close off me.”
Holly Lang stood over Jesse’s body and shined a flashlight down. Jesse was pale in the light, blood staining his clothes.
Alexei tugged on Cade’s shirt. “Come and allow doctor to work on friend.”
“He’s unconscious. GSW to the abdomen. It looks like another one grazed him, but it’s nothing more than a burn. I need an ambulance. He needs surgery.” Caleb turned his eyes up to Cade. “He’s strong. Nell stopped a lot of the bleeding. I need to dig the bullet out and make sure he didn’t nick any vitals. Ty was five minutes behind me. Go find Gemma. I’ve got him.”
With a deep sigh of relief, he turned to Nell, who was talking to Nate and Cam.
She pointed toward the rear of her house. “I think they went to the backwoods. By the river.”
The river. Every muscle in his body stiffened and his brain threatened to stop functioning. The river. It would always come back to her. Flashes of the night hit his brain. The cold. The dank air that filled his lungs before the water had rushed in. His sister’s ey
es as she died.
And none of it mattered. All that mattered was Gemma.
He calmly worked his way around the building as Nate and Cam planned a strategy. His strategy was to find Gemma and take any bullet that came her way. And to keep her away from the freaking river.
In the distance, he heard a voice talking. He couldn’t discern the words, but it didn’t matter. He took off. Nate was suddenly on his heels, and Cam managed to get in front of him. Cam ran like a freaking running back, sprinting ahead, his gun in his hand. Nate grabbed at Cade, forcing him to stop.
“You will not get killed while I’m on duty.”
He tried to pull away. “Please. God, Nate, I love her. What would you do if it was Callie out there?”
“If I wasn’t trained? I would let me do my goddamn job. That man has a gun and he’s using it.” Nate’s face was fierce. “You stay here or I’ll use mine on you and I will put your ass in jail for impeding the police.”
Cade stopped. What was he doing? Charging in when he didn’t even have a gun. Hadn’t he fucked up enough? Did he have to keep on doing it?
Cade sank to his knees in the soft dirt. He could smell the river, hear it rushing by. He was miles from the river he’d nearly lost his life in, but he’d never truly left it. He’d pretended to walk around and to smile and party and play all of life’s games, but the best part of him had died that day.
He was back there. Nine years old and pissed off at the world because Annie always got all the attention. Annie was on drill team and got to be in the homecoming court, and who gave a shit about that? He’d come up with a plan. Annie got everything and he got nothing, so he’d left. Packed up his Power Rangers backpack and walked out of the house.
He hadn’t counted on the rain. He hadn’t counted on the storms that seemed to shake the whole earth that night. And he hadn’t counted on his parents and Annie rushing to get him even though the storm should have kept them at home.
God. He’d killed them all because he was a brat who couldn’t handle his sister’s success. And she had nothing but a grave because he’d walked out.
He put his hands over his eyes. If Gemma died, nothing would matter. He should have been with her. He should have taken the bullet Jesse had taken. Jesse was the good one.
It was a weak sound that penetrated his ear. Like a shout from a muffled horn.
Cade brought his head up. Maybe he’d imagined it.
Nate walked out of the woods, his walkie-talkie in his hands. “Yeah, I’m going to need another bus. Don’t hurry. He’s a corpse. Henry Flanders says he tripped. No. I don’t have eyes on Gemma. It looks like she ran. No blood trail.”
Gemma got away?
There it was again. That weird sound. It was coming from his left. From the river.
“Cade, why don’t you head home and check to see if Gemma ran back there,” Nate said. “Patrick Welch is dead. He didn’t have time to hide a body, and Henry says this whole episode lasted less than five minutes. She’s gotta be hoofing it home.”
Home. Gemma wouldn’t go home. Gemma might lead a killer away from Jesse, but she would never run home when he was dying.
A third strangled sound was heard.
“Is that an air horn?” Nate asked. “Do we have kayakers in trouble? Who the hell gets on the river this late in the year? It’s damn cold.”
Cade took off running because he knew who it was. Gemma. Gemma, his always prepared, had-a-purse-bigger-than-a-damn-drugstore woman, was in the river and she was calling for help. For him.
He’d lost his life in a river in Florida. He’d clung to a tree limb, survival his only goal. He’d gone into the river a bratty kid and what they pulled out had been a zombie, a body that moved through life but didn’t feel it.
Nancy cracked his shell, but he’d betrayed her.
Jesse wormed his way in.
Gemma. Gemma made him want to live again.
He saw it. A little white horn shining in the moonlight. She was under the water, her arm in the air, begging for help.
Without a second thought, he dove in. He hadn’t swum in years, his fear of the water so strong it kept him away, but his parents had forced him to learn before and that training didn’t go away.
His parents. His sister. Nancy, his not-mom who had loved him. They weren’t ghosts who weighed him down. They’d loved him. He’d screwed up, but he hadn’t meant to. He’d been a child. But a man went into the water this time. A man who loved a woman. A man who wouldn’t come out again unless she was in his arms, whole and alive.
The water hit his system like an out-of-control freight train coming straight from the arctic. His skin burned where the water touched it, but the moon was high in the sky and the water was clear. He could see her.
She was caught and failing. Her foot had slipped between the branches of a log. She’d twisted and turned until she couldn’t move, trapped in a deadly puzzle.
Her head came up, her eyes flaring with panic. She reached for him. He grabbed her arm and tried to pull, but she was well stuck. He pulled harder. And then again. Nothing. He was ready to pull her foot off. He didn’t give a shit. He’d carry her around, but she had to get out of here. She was panicking. She refused to let go of his hand.
His lungs were burning so she had to be drowning. He braced himself against the log and pulled again with every ounce of strength he had. If she stayed here, he would, too. He would hold on and drown with her. He tugged until his lungs felt like they would explode and then finally Gemma moved, her body pulling free.
Another body entered the water, white washing all around. There was a great whoosh, the sound filling his ears. He clutched her, trying to get to the surface. Big hands came out, pulling at Gemma’s body.
Cam. Cam was an athlete. Cam would take her. Cam could get her out.
Cade’s job was done. He let her go. Cam immediately started swimming her to the surface.
Cade tried to follow, but he was stuck. The whole river was alive with things that pulled a person under. The river was hungry. Wanting.
And it was all right. Gemma was okay. Jesse would live. Cade could give in.
Or he could finally fucking fight. He’d spent too many years waiting for this. Longing for this. He’d waited for the water to take him. So easy. He wouldn’t have to fight. Wouldn’t have to hurt.
And he wouldn’t be able to love.
Cade pulled, struggling. His pants were caught. Gemma was above. He should be above, too. He needed to be with Gemma. With Jesse. With his family.
His lungs were depleted. He couldn’t breathe, but he wasn’t done. He wanted Gemma. He wanted that family they could have. He wouldn’t leave her alone. He would have his future. He would live.
There was another great white rush. Cam. His hand came out, reaching for him. Cade grabbed his hand and together they pulled. His jeans tore and he was free.
He broke the surface, the cold washing over him. Life rushed at him as he crawled up the banks of the river.
“We have her back. Breath sounds are good.” Ty’s voice broke through the quiet. There was the beautiful sound of coughing. “Let’s move her. Get her to the hospital.”
Cade let his head rest back. He was half frozen but it didn’t matter. Gemma was good. Jesse was being taken care of. And he was alive.
Cam stared down at him. “Are you all right, man?”
Cade nodded. He was all right. He was fine. They were alive. His family was safe.
* * * *
Hours later, Cade sat by Gemma’s bed, dreaming.
This time was different. He was in the river. He was nine, but there was none of the panic he always felt when he found himself trapped in this dream. The water surrounded him, but he knew. He would survive.
His sister wouldn’t. He turned in his seat, no longer nine years old, but a man who could look at her with mature eyes. He’d made a child’s mistake, and he missed his sister. He wished she’d lived, but she would have hated the way he’d stumbled through l
ife. Annie would have taken it in both hands and not stopped until she’d drained it dry. Like Gemma. Annie would have adored Gemma.
He turned his head, the moonlight illuminating Annie’s face. Where always she’d been panicked, now there was a small smile on her lips. Her light brown hair floated around her, giving her a halo. His sweet sister. His angel. Why had he ever thought she would want him to stay down here with her?
She reached for him, not to drag him down, but to touch him one last time. His parents were there, reaching for him, too, a final good-bye. And Nancy with her gentle smile. She’d taught him how to cook. She’d brought him together with his best friend.
He stayed there for a moment, the river now not such a terrible place to be. His former family was here. But he couldn’t stay because all his tomorrows were above, in the air with Gemma and Jesse.
He held Annie’s hand. Just for a moment because other hands reached for him, pulling him up, to the surface.
Where he belonged.
Chapter Twenty
“Holy shitballs, Nate. Think about it. Atlanto-occipital dislocation. Do you have any idea how few physicians see that in a lifetime? It’s insanely rare. And who sees it? This guy. Right here in Bliss, Colorado. I know I complain about the autopsies, but this makes them all worthwhile.”
Caleb’s voice roused Gemma from her dreams. Her dreams where Jesse was alive and Cade didn’t run. She kept her eyes shut, hoping to go back there.
“Caleb, I don’t even know what that Atlanto thing is. Henry said the guy fell.”
Caleb huffed. “You think the dude fell and internally decapitated himself? Seriously? Henry is lying. This is the kind of thing that happens when man meets bus or man meets ridiculously well-trained killer. I don’t think Henry qualifies as mass transit.”
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