Know Me, Keep Me (Full Heart Ranch Series Book 3)

by Barbara Gee

  Boone sighed and shook his head. “If anyone gets hurt because of me, I’m going to regret trying to come back and play. No matter how good my intentions were, I’ve put the team in danger. Just like I did you and Doug. It never ends.”

  They both turned their heads when they heard Holt say, “Yeah, I’m here.” The man cocked his head, listening to his earpiece. After a moment he looked over at them. “Tobin said there are cops in the hall now. They told him there are at least thirty in the building. As soon as they get this floor cleared you can go talk to the team, and then we’ll get everyone out the external exit. The team and the coaching staff will be accompanied to their cars, then we’ll bring the car up close for you two.”

  After thirty interminable minutes there was a tap on the door and Tobin identified himself. Holt pushed the door open and the other man slipped into the room.

  “This end of the floor is cleared,” he announced. “You can go next door if you want.”

  “They haven’t found anyone yet?” Boone asked.

  “No, but one of the elevators went up a few minutes ago. We think it’s them. Or him—we really don’t know yet if there is only one person, or multiples.”

  Boone took Jolene’s hand and tugged her toward the door.

  “Do you want me to come along?” she asked.

  He looked back at her and nodded. “The team might as well meet you now, if you’re up for it. They’ve already seen the photos of us, and they’ve been ribbing me about you non-stop.”

  She winced and he gave her an encouraging smile. “It won’t be bad. I’ll introduce you real quick, then you can just hang out in the back with Agent Holt. Okay?”

  She smiled gratefully. “All right. I can do that.”

  After one more check of the hallway, the agents hustled them out of the conference room and in through the locker room door. The team was milling around, obviously frustrated about the situation, but not too riled up.

  Jax came up to them as soon as he saw them come inside.

  “Hey, Boonzy, everything okay?”

  Boone nodded. “For now. Have you told the guys anything?”

  “Only that there’s been a threat made against you. I told them you’d fill them in when you could.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” Boone clapped his friend on the back and led Jolene to the center of the room. The men grew silent, forming a semi-circle around him, eagerly waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “So, guys, I guess an explanation is overdue. I’m real sorry about the holdup here, I know you’re ready to get home. I won’t take a lot of time, but I want to let you know what’s going on.” He put an arm around Jolene and drew her against his side.

  “First, this is Jolene Tolley. She’s a physical therapist and trainer, and she’s been putting me through my paces the last few weeks. She’s the reason I was able to keep up with you guys today, and she’s also become a special person in my life. Hopefully you’ll be seeing her around quite a bit.”

  A chorus of greetings rang out, then Boone reluctantly dropped his arm and Jolene went to stand by Holt, behind the group of men.

  Boone put his hands on his hips and looked out at the expectant expressions of his teammates. “The first thing I want you guys to know is that the personal situation I’m going to share with you has nothing to do with my concussion issues, and I’ve done my best to not let it affect my recovery. I’ve worked my tail off every day to return to this team, and I hope I showed that today.”

  That was met by encouraging nods, so Boone got down to business. He quickly described the situation, and why he had gone to the Full Heart Ranch. He admitted that he’d struggled to know how to handle the situation, but the threat to the PI he’d hired had finally convinced him to get the FBI involved in finding the blackmailer. He told them about Jolene being attacked, and about the guard who had been found tied up today at the arena, most likely assaulted by either Ethan Golding, or thugs hired by him.

  The men were completely silent as Boone told them everything, ending with an apology for putting them in danger by coming to the arena.

  “I should have realized that having two agents guarding me wasn’t enough. Just by being here I put you guys in jeopardy, and I regret that more than I can say. If whoever is after me isn’t caught today, I won’t be playing tomorrow, or even coming to the rink. I can’t risk you all being caught in the middle again.”

  “Heck, Boone,” one man called out. “Let us go out there right now and help catch these guys. We’ll find ’em and make sure you’re on the ice tomorrow night. I guarantee it.”

  Other voices shouted out in support of the first, and Agent Holt had to step in to help the coach silence the angry group. When they were focused again, Coach Spelling spoke up.

  “Thanks for trusting us with what you’re going through, Boone. I think I can speak for the whole group when I say you can count on everything staying right here in this room until you’re ready to share it with the rest of the world.”

  “I appreciate that,” Boone said.

  “Is there anything else you want to add?” Coach asked.

  “Just that we’re working day and night to catch this guy, and I apologize in advance for the media frenzy that’s going to hit us when the story breaks. I know it’s bad timing, and hurting this team is the last thing I want.”

  Jax stepped up and gave Boone a fist bump and then a hug. “Thanks for trusting us with something so personal.” He turned and faced the rest of the team. “Anyone have any questions or concerns?”

  “My only concern is making sure Boonzy is on the ice tomorrow night and we win the game for him,” the goalie, Connor, said forcefully. “You all with me on that?”

  The shouts of support were instantaneous and loud. These men stood behind their captain, that was obvious. Jolene exchanged a smile with Agent Holt, watching as the players formed a line and took turns offering encouragement and support. Some wrapped him in hugs, others shook his hand or slapped him on the back. All of them had his back and wanted him to play tomorrow night, regardless of whether Ethan Golding was in custody or not.

  Boone wouldn’t budge on that, though. He was adamant that he wouldn’t bring trouble back to the arena, especially on a game night.

  A group of cops eventually showed up and began escorting players to their cars. When everyone else had finally filed out, leaving just Jax and Coach Spelling, Boone heaved a bone weary sigh and sank onto a bench.

  “I’m sorry, Coach. I know we don’t need this right now.”

  “No, we never need something like this. But there’s nothing you could do about it, far as I can see,” the other man said. “You were dealt a heck of a blow a few months back. I just hope that guy is caught and we can move on. I’m glad to have you back, Captain, I can tell you that.”

  Jax looked at the federal agents, his light brown eyes worried. “What are the chances this Golding scum is caught today? Cause we need this guy on the ice tomorrow night.”

  Agent Holt nodded understandingly. “I’m a big fan, so I want that, too. It just depends—” He broke off when his partner raised a hand and pressed a finger once more to his earpiece.

  The others waited in tense silence while he listened. “Copy that,” he said, then listened some more. “Okay, let me know as soon as it’s confirmed.”

  Tobin looked at Holt and nodded, then told the rest of the group that two men had been apprehended up on the club level, trying to find a way back down without using the elevator again. A swarm of cops had closed in, and the two armed men had given up easily, surrendering their guns and putting up no resistance when cuffed. The rest of the arena had now been cleared as well.

  “Is one of them Golding?” Boone wanted to know, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “Don’t know yet. You, me, and Holt are the only ones who have seen photos and know what he looks like. You all hang out down here for a few minutes. I’ll head up and see if I can make the ID.”

  “Bring us back some goo
d news,” Holt requested, folding his arms and pacing impatiently as his partner left. “We need to get this wrapped up. Golding has drug things out way too long already.”

  “Agreed,” Boone said tightly. He got up from the bench and joined Jolene at the back of the room.

  “You okay?” he whispered, taking her face in his hands and gently kissing her forehead.

  “I’m fine. You?” she asked, putting her hands on his waist.

  “I’ll be dandy just as soon as I get word that Golding is in custody.”

  “I know. It’ll happen, Boone. Maybe it’s already happened.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Let’s hope so.”

  Five minutes later, Holt heard from his partner. He looked over at Boone and Jolene, shaking his head regretfully. “Not Golding,” he said. “But the men they did get are talking. Golding is here in the city, and there are officers on their way to his hotel.”

  Boone let out a groan of frustration. “So we’re back to waiting. Always waiting. I’m so tired of this. I need to do something.” He paced to the other side of the room, tension radiating off his body.

  “We can leave here,” Holt told him. “We can’t go after Golding ourselves, but we can at least go back to the hotel. Get something to eat. It might help the time go faster.”

  Coach Spelling nodded. “You guys go on. Get out of here. Sticking around isn’t going to help anything. I’m sure you’ll be the first to hear when there’s any news.”

  Boone rubbed the back of his head, his jaw clenched. “Okay,” he said finally. He looked at Jolene. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower? I didn’t have time before. Ten minutes?”

  “That’s fine. I’m in no rush.”

  Coach Spelling and Jax left, and Tobin soon returned. The three of them waited for Boone, who emerged from the shower room dressed in jeans, a black tee shirt, and running shoes.

  “Ready if you guys are,” he told them, hoisting his gym bag over a shoulder.

  “I’ll go get the car,” Holt said. “I’ll pull up to the curb in the lot just across the street.”

  Tobin called arena security to let them know they’d be exiting via the outside door. The security head promised to have a guard meet them there to make sure the door was secured again after they left. A few minutes later, Holt informed Tobin that he was waiting at the curb.

  “Let’s move out,” Tobin said. “You go first, Boone, Holt will cover you. Jolene will be right behind you, and I’ll bring up the rear.”

  Boone pushed the door open and stepped out into the sunlight. The car was parked at the curb twenty feet away. Holt was beside the car, gun drawn, and an arena security guard was approaching from the left. Boone stopped to wait for Jolene, lost his grip on the heavy metal door and quickly leaned forward to re-grab it before it smashed into her.

  As he did, he heard something buzz by his head, and then he heard shouting and strong hands pulled him down to the ground, half in the door and half out.

  CHAPTER 33

  “Stay down and get back in here,” Tobin was yelling. “Jolene, stay inside. Don’t you dare go out. Holt, you copy? What’s going on out there?”

  Boone drew his legs in but kept the heavy door propped partway open with his foot. He could hear Holt yelling about a building and a shooter and a man down. Tobin joined him at the door and they eased it open further, watching as Holt took cover behind the car, shouting into a radio connected to arena security.

  “The eight story building just to the east,” he yelled. “I see the gun through my binocs. Fourth floor window, third from the right. I repeat, shooter on the fourth floor. The window’s been broken and the rifle is still in place, but I can’t see in well enough to see a person. Shut down the building and get the cops over there. And get an ambulance to the external locker room door. Security guard is down.”

  Boone looked to his left and saw the guard lying flat on his back. “Aw crap,” he muttered. “Can you see where he was hit?”

  “Not from here,” Tobin said. “Help will be here soon.”

  * * *

  Jolene prayed for safety for everyone as she kept her eyes on Boone, knowing he felt responsible. He was staying low beside Tobin, propped up on their elbows as they watched what was going on, protected by the heavy metal door which shielded them from the building Holt had identified.

  “He moved,” Boone said. “The guard moved his legs. He’s still alive.”

  “He’d be better off staying still,” Tobin said worriedly. “If the shooter’s still out there he should play dead until help can get there.”

  “They’re not going to go to him until the shooter’s captured,” Boone said. “He could be bleeding out. Every second counts.”

  Tobin radioed his partner. “Any sign of the shooter?”

  “Negative. A handful of cops are just now going in the front. They’re going to concentrate on making sure no one leaves. They’ll have to wait for reinforcements before they start going up.”

  Boone looked over his shoulder at Jolene. “Go out in the hall and flag down a security guard or a cop, whoever you see first. Tell them we need someone with medical training in here right away.”

  Jolene wasn’t quite sure what she saw in his eyes, but whatever it was made her heart beat faster and told her not to leave him. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to—”

  “Go, babe. Please.”

  Jolene bit her lip, then hurried for the door.

  * * *

  Boone watched her go, and as soon as the door closed behind her he tensed and rose to a crouch. Tobin realized his plan too late. He swore and made a grab for Boone’s ankles, but Boone easily kicked his hands away.

  “Hold the door for us,” he called as he broke into a sprint, covering the thirty feet to the security guard as fast as his powerful legs could go, imagining he heard the whistle of a bullet the whole way. Reaching the guard, he slid to his knees beside him, trying to see where the man had been hit. There was a lot of blood on his abdomen, and Boone knew time was indeed of the essence.

  “Dammit, Boone, get down!” Holt’s voice was nearby and Boone glanced over to see the agent still crouched behind the car, gun out, his eyes on the building.

  “I’m taking him back to the locker room,” Boone told him. “He’s bleeding bad—”

  “Shooter’s up!” Holt yelled. “I see him. He’s way out of my range, I can’t cover you. Get over against the building and then head for the door. Now, Boone. You’ve gotta leave this guy.”

  “Can’t do that.” Boone got to his feet and lifted the guard, grunting with the effort. The man wasn’t tall, but he was muscular and heavy. Boone was afraid he’d hurt him worse if he hoisted him over his shoulder, so he carried him in his arms, hunched over with his back to the shooter, shielding the man as best he could.

  “Move, Boone, move,” Holt shouted. “Gun’s up! Get to the building! Dammit!”

  And then the agent was sprinting toward them, pointing his gun toward the building in a desperate effort to deter the gunman even though his handgun wasn’t a threat at that distance. Boone tightened his grip on the guard and ran sideways toward the brick wall, looking back over his shoulder to see that Tobin had the door all the way open now to give as much protection as possible.

  The crack of the rifle came with only a few yards to go. Boone felt a slicing heat on his left shoulder but he kept his grip on the guard. He reached the wall and then ran along it to the door, Holt with him now, and Tobin at the door calling encouragement. When Boone got to him Tobin grabbed onto the guard, pulled them both inside and helped lower the injured man to the floor. Holt dove through the door, swearing a blue streak, and the door clanged shut.

  For a moment there was only the sound of heavy breathing, then both agents started tearing into Boone even as they ripped the guard’s shirt apart, buttons flying, looking for the wound. Boone let them rant while he went and found a clean towel, then applied pressure to the gunshot wound they found on the guard’s
lower right abdomen.

  The locker room door banged open and two EMTs rushed inside, followed by Jolene and two cops. Boone pushed to his feet and stood back to let the EMTs take his place by the injured man. Tobin and Holt followed suit, still glaring at Boone. Jolene approached, her face pale and her dark eyes wide with concern.

  “What happened?” she asked softly, her gaze taking in Boone’s clothes, soaked with the guard’s blood.

  “Your boyfriend decided to play the hero and almost got both him and Holt shot!” Tobin ground out.

  Boone had turned to go clean up, but at that he turned around, his jaw clenched and his eyes icy. “Being a hero had nothing to do with it,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “My presence put that man in danger, and trying to help him was the least I could do. I don’t expect any accolades for it. All I want is for him to live.” He stared unflinchingly into Tobin’s eyes until the other man blew out a breath and reluctantly nodded.

  “I guess I know that. Just reacting to the fear of seeing you two in the line of fire. Got the adrenaline pumping, that’s for sure.”

  Boone moved his gaze to Agent Holt. “Sorry for putting you at risk. I should have known you’d feel obligated to assist. I didn’t think any further ahead than getting to that guy before it was too late.”

  “Understood, Boone,” Holt said, wiping his forehead with a clean towel he took off a stack. “Let’s hope no one else gets hurt before they get the shooter in custody.”

  Boone headed for the shower room, motioning for Jolene to follow. He stopped at a row of sinks and turned on the water, washing his hands and leaning over to splash his face. She placed a towel over his shoulder and lightly rubbed his back.

  “Do you have any clean clothes in your locker or bag?” she asked softly.

  He sluiced water over his head and neck, then straightened up and started drying off. “In my bag.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She went to the bag that had ended up on the floor by the outside door, and found a neatly folded tee shirt and a pair of Wild sweatpants inside. She returned to the sinks and hugged the clothes to her chest, trying to hide how badly her hands were shaking.