“How deep into this are you, Jocelyn?” Grace bit out, her voice hard with anger.
The other woman quickly turned toward Grace, her expression unsure. “Grace, I…you wouldn’t understand. I needed to do this…I had to.”
“Had to? Had to what? Protect drug runners? Get them through customs? Help smuggle?” Grace shot a disgusted look at the men, still standing by the plane. “Seems like we’ve met before, and I just now remember everything. You tried to kill me.”
Joe Savine grinned but his face held no mirth—only danger. “It wasn’t me who ran you off the road,” he said, his eyes cutting over to Jocelyn.
“Shut up!” Jocelyn screamed, causing Gypsy to shift protectively.
“You?” Grace asked, still incredulous over her former friend’s involvement. “That was you chasing me?”
“I had to, don’t you see? I had to get rid of you once you discovered what was happening.”
“Yeah, but you bungled it,” Joe accused. “You even climbed down the ravine to grab her purse and supposedly checked to see that they were dead.”
“There was so much blood,” Jocelyn cried. “I thought she had to be dead!”
The tall, distinguished man, silently watching the proceedings, finally spoke as he made his way to the plane. “You two can bicker all you want, but I’m keeping my schedule.” Stopping, he nodded his head toward Grace and said, “This time, make it permanent memory loss…and clean up your mess. Or the next accident will be you!”
*
Rendezvousing at Bob Davison’s farm, the old man met the Saints as they pulled up to his barn. Hustling out, he made his way directly to Marc and said, “You take what you need, son.” Turning, Bob placed his hand on Blaise’s shoulder. “I lost my love to cancer about five years ago. I’ll do whatever you need to help you hang on to yours.”
Stepping back, Bob’s gaze danced around as the men immediately went to work. DEA and FBI vehicles arrived, with Mitch stepping out of one. Hustling over to Jack’s group, he said, “I’ve got point on this, but DEA is here for support. What have we got?”
A woman, wearing a dark jacket with DEA emblazoned on the back, hurried over. “Carin Torgensen,” she introduced. “We’ve got confirmation Ricardo Guzman came into the country and our informant had him heading to the Savine farm. We’re assuming he’s going to try to load up the drugs he brought in and take them out in a much smaller plane.”
Luke called from inside the heavily equipped van. “Her tracer has her at the Savine farm. I’m pulling up visuals and they’re close to real time. DEA sent a drone over once they discovered their satellites were being interrupted. Foliage is heavy but there’s a clearing where the house is located. I have a lock on Blaise’s truck and a deputy car, number on top is twelve, K-9.”
Before he could finish, two Albert county sheriff cars sped up Bob’s lane, dust flying as they came to a halt. Antonio Montez bolted out of one of the cars, his face dark with anger. “What the hell is going on? This is my county. Why wasn’t I notified?”
Mitch stepped up to him, saying, “Sir, you’ll have to stand down. We have evidence indicating that your daughter, Jocelyn Montez, is colluding with drug runners from Mexico through the Charlestown airport and Joe Savine’s airstrip.”
The Sheriff, visibly paling, stepped backward in shock. Shaking his head, he repeated, “No, no. Not her. No.”
Another agent moved the Sheriff to the side, as Mitch turned back to Blaise. “DEA is monitoring them from the air, but we don’t want to go in until we know what’s happening with Grace.”
“We got this,” Blaise answered, pulling on the Kevlar with the rest of the Saints. Looking over at Marc, he said, “You going in?”
Nodding, Marc said, “I’ll coordinate with DEA, but I’m going to head on up…with Bob’s assistance.”
The older man stepped forward, saying, “You got it, son.”
The rest of the Saints armed themselves and, leaving Marc and Luke, they climbed into three of their SUVS and left Bob’s farm. Within a few minutes, they arrived at the turnoff for the Savine farm. Parking along the road, they alighted and, with night vision goggles, they jogged down the lane and into the woods nearby.
Blaise cleared his mind, readying himself for the mission. He stumbled once, cursing inwardly. Who am I kidding? This isn’t a mission. This is Grace. This is all about Grace. Steadying his resolve, he continued forward. Hearing shots fired in the distance, his heart stumbled as his steps had earlier.
*
Grace, horrified at the revelations, watched as the tall man climbed into the plane. Nudged by Gypsy’s head, she tightened her grip on the dog’s leash. She understood Gypsy’s desire to get to the plane, knowing drugs were onboard. Think. Slow down and think. As the two remaining men glared at Jocelyn, the one with the gun now with his arm pointing downward, she knew it was her chance. Shooting a fleeting glance toward the dark woods just to the right of the barn, where the illumination no longer penetrated, she knew what she had to do.
“Follow,” she commanded softly, and whirled around, running into the darkness, momentarily out of sight of the group inside.
Avoiding the underbrush, she ran just inside the woods lining the path. A gunshot ricocheted close by and she instinctively ducked. “Go, go,” she encouraged the large dog running beside her, each trying to protect the other. More gunshots fired her way as yelling from behind met her ears, but she refused to stop.
Blindly running she made it to the clearing, the still unlit house to the left. Sprinting to her truck, she yelled for Gypsy to jump in as her hand landed on the handle. The ping of gunshot hitting the vehicle next to her hand caused her to jump back, stumbling to the ground as Gypsy planted herself in front of her. The following gunshot met its target and Grace watched in horror as her beloved dog fell to the ground at her feet, blood coating her fur.
Chapter 30
Jocelyn walked over to where Grace scrambled over Gypsy, trying to stop the flow of blood.
“No, no, no, baby,” Grace cried, tears streaming down her face.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Jocelyn accused, her expression tangled in fear and regret. “None of this would have happened,” she said, her hand shaking as it held the gun.
Ignoring the ramblings of the woman over her, Grace jerked her t-shirt over her head and placed it on the wound, applying pressure.
“Stop,” Jocelyn said. “She’s gonna die, and fuck it all, Grace, so are you. I’ve got no fucking choice.”
“Why? Why?” Grace screamed, her chancing a glance up at the woman she no longer knew.
Before Jocelyn had an opportunity to speak, more crashing through the woods was heard as Joe came into view, barely visible in the dark as he ran around the house toward them. Suddenly the woods came alive as shadows appeared, moving, circling around the group.
The sound of a small engine plane was heard in the distance, coming closer. Unable to discern why the pilot would be returning, Grace shook herself, only caring about the animal dying in her arms. Laying her head down on the ground next to Gypsy, she stared into the amber eyes that peered back at her. Trusting. Loving.
The shadows formed into men, dark clothing and blackened faces obscuring their identities and striking fear into Joe and Jocelyn. Their weapons trained on the pair, Mitch called out, “FBI. Drop your weapons.”
Joe immediately complied, but Jocelyn stood still, staring dumbly at the large assembly. Unaware of what was behind her, Jocelyn’s body slammed to the ground as she was hit in the back.
“You fucking bitch!” Grace screeched, standing with a large, heavy stick in her hand. Bringing it down again on the woman’s prone body, she hit her over and over, continuing to roar. “You tried to kill me and my dog! You left us for dead! You fucking bitch!”
Blaise rushed around the vehicle, jerking off his goggles, seeing Grace out of control with Gypsy at her feet. His heart in his throat, he grabbed Grace from behind, pinning her arms to her sides as
he repeated, “Babe, It’s me. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” It took several repetitions for the words to sink in, stilling her struggling body. “Let it go, babe. We’ve got Jocelyn. Let it go.”
Dropping the stick, she cried, “Blaise! She killed Gypsy.” As her body gave out, shaking with grief, he was the only thing holding her up.
He did not want to let her go but knew she would want him to see to the dog. Signaling to Chad, he shifted her body to his friend’s arms, saying, “Get her a goddamn shirt to put on.”
Cam already had a blanket out for Grace and he wrapped it around her as Chad continued to hold her close. Jude quickly shucked his Kevlar and pulled his black t-shirt over his head, walking to Chad.
“Come on, Grace. Let’s get you dressed,” he said softly, sliding the material over the distraught woman’s head and weaving her arms through the holes.
“Patrick!” Blaise shouted. “Get the first aid field equipment and I need light!”
Patrick ran to the Saints’ SUV that Monty had driven up. Rushing back, he leaned over Blaise’s shoulder, adjusting the lights over the man desperately working on the dog. Gypsy whimpered, shocking everyone.
Jolted by the sound, Grace began fighting Chad’s arms. “Let me go!” she cried, her tear-stained face turned toward the light now illuminating the man she loved as he worked to save the dog that had protected her and held her heart.
Chad set her feet gently on the ground but kept his hands on her shoulders as she scrambled over to Blaise. Leaning down, he cautioned, “Let him work, Grace. Give Blaise room to work.”
Blaise looked up at Grace, his expression unreadable to all but her. She saw the warmth in his eyes. “Grace, she’s alive, but barely. I’ve got to get her to a hospital.”
“Where can we go?” she asked, emotion choking her voice.
From around the corner of the house, Marc came running. “Got here as soon as I could,” he panted, looking down at the scene in front of him. Glancing over at Jack, he said, “Flew Bob’s old plane right in, stopping Ricardo on the runway. Mitch and the DEA’s got him now.”
“Can you get me out of here?” Blaise asked, his hand covered in blood as he knelt by Gypsy.
“Yeah, no problem. There’s a farm next to my property, about two miles from you. I can land us there and get you to your place.”
Quickly unpacking a gurney from their emergency supplies, Jude and Patrick bent to assist placing Gypsy onto the carrier. Both men stood, easily jogging down the path, carrying the injured dog toward the plane.
Blaise turned to Grace, stepping back as her body slammed into his. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her, hold her while reminding himself that he did not have to perform emergency surgery on her. She encircled his waist with her arms, holding her cheek against his pounding heartbeat.
“I want to go too,” she pleaded.
“Baby, you can’t. There’s not enough room on the plane.” He looked down at her anguished face as she stared in horror up at him.
“Blaise, I have to—”
“Grace, listen to me, sweetheart. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get her to my clinic. I’ve got another vet who’ll come help and bring blood. I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to save her but I can only do that if you let me go.” He felt her nod as her arms loosened from around him.
She stepped back, tears flowing freely. “I know. Go. Please go.”
With a quick kiss, that he wanted to be so much more than a hurried goodbye, he ran after the others heading to the plane.
With her arms wrapped around her waist as she stood in Jude’s huge t-shirt hanging over her bloodstained jeans, she was instantly surrounded by the remaining Saints.
Stepping up, Jack bent to capture her attention. “Let’s go, honey. We’ll get you down the mountain and to Blaise’s place before you know it.”
The group hustled over to the SUVs and Chad assisted Grace into the back seat. Bart climbed in on the other side, with Cam riding shotgun as Chad pulled out.
Bart, glancing to the side at Grace, noticed her hands in her lap, twisting together nervously. “Blaise’ll do everything he can,” he assured. Catching her thankful smile, he added, “Gotta tell you, girl, seeing you beatin’ the shit outta Jocelyn while half-dressed and screamin…’bout the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Blushing, Grace grinned. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” She saw a smile pass between Chad and Cam in the front seat, and she added, “Don’t know that Blaise was so thrilled.”
“Grace, when he gets over being scared as fuck about that gun going off on you, he’ll think it was sexy as hell!”
A giggle escaped, in spite of her anxiety, and she looked out the window smiling as the SUV expertly hurtled down the mountain road. Her memories back, she now knew what had happened that night. As she stared out of the window into the deep ravine on the side, she could not hold back the flood of memories. This time, not of what had occurred that night, but what had happened since. With Blaise at her side…she was whole.
*
Blaise sat in the back of the tiny plane, Gypsy squeezed onto a blanket at his feet. Marc flew expertly, occasionally glancing back as he got updates from Blaise as to Gypsy’s condition. Blaise spoke softly to the large dog, glad that she was stable for the moment. He had given her pain medication and inserted an IV before they took to the air. Closing his eyes for a moment, he felt his breath choke in his throat as he allowed his thoughts to stray back to when he and the Saints entered the woods.
With their night vision goggles, they quickly traversed through the dark woods, seeing a house in the background and several vehicles parked in front. Suddenly, the sound of a shot resounded, breaking the silence of the night. Fear gripped his heart as he stumbled. Recognizing his truck, he saw a figure running from the woods, a dog by her side. Grace! Thank God!
Attempting to keep his mind on the mission, he noticed the other Saints circling around. Just then another shot rang out, and this time, he saw Grace drop to the ground. His heart stopped as he rushed forward, forsaking all caution to reach her side.
Before he could reach her, she began screaming about Gypsy. Unsure if she was hurt or her dog had been shot, he continued to race through the woods. Running around a tangle of trees he came into the clearing from behind his truck. As he bolted around, he was shocked to see Grace, in her jeans and bra, pummeling Jocelyn with a large stick, screaming at her.
A quick glance to the ground indicated it was Gypsy that had been injured. Grabbing Grace from behind, he warred between wanting to clutch her to his body, feeling with every inch of his being the sensation of having her alive and well in his arms, and the desire to shake her for putting herself in danger by attacking someone holding a gun.
But as she broke down in his embrace, her grief overwhelming her, he knew he would have done the same.
“Almost there,” Marc said. “Jack called the neighbors and they’ve put out lights on the field.
Blaise knew Marc had flown in combat and for the CIA for years. He had no doubt his friend would be able to land anywhere and, within a few minutes, Marc proved just that. The landing was bumpy, but they soon came to a stop and taxied over to a waiting SUV. Within fifteen minutes they were at his house, Marc jumping out of the vehicle to assist. Another car was already in the driveway and the occupant was standing in Blaise’s doorway.
“Good to see you, Annie. Thank God you got here.”
The pretty red-haired veterinarian smiled, saying, “Glad to see you again too.” Her eyes dropped to the bundle in his arms, as she followed him into his back room. Once inside, she quickly moved around to begin assisting, hooking up the anesthetic machine to the IV line Blaise had already inserted.
She glanced up at Marc and smiled. “Hey, I’m Annie Douglass. You must be one of the Saints.”
Cocking his head to the side, Marc nodded curiously. Blaise, focused solely on Gypsy, made no introduction, so Annie continued. “My husband is Shane Dou
glass, with the Richland Police Department. And we’re good friends with the Alvarez Security men…they used to serve with Jack.”
Nodding, Marc greeted, “Nice to meet you. Glad you could help us out.”
“I’ve got a clinic not too far from here and Shane’s home with the kids.” Looking over at Blaise, she said, “But he said you owe him a beer for getting me out this time of night.”
Finally looking up, Blaise smiled. “Done.” Pulling the surgery table over to him, he said, “Now let’s get this bullet out of my woman’s dog.”
*
By the time Grace ran through the front door, Bethany was waiting for her in Blaise’s living room.
“It’s okay, they’re working on her,” Bethany hurried to explain, wanting to reassure her friend as quickly as possible, noting her long black t-shirt that was obviously one of the Saints, as well as her blood-covered jeans and arms.
“I’ve got to get to her,” Grace said, trying to push past her. The other Saints crowded the room as well.
“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” Bethany suggested, but Grace refused.
“Don’t you see?” Grace pleaded, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at the full room. “For weeks, Gypsy was my only friend. The only connection to who I used to be. She stayed with me. Protected me. Never left my side…not once.” Her face crumpled as she whispered, “So I can’t leave her side now.”
Nodding Bethany hugged Grace quickly, tears in her own eyes, and then let her pass down the hall toward the clinic room. Stopping at the closed door, Grace hesitated, placing her forehead and hand on it. Silent prayers filled her as she thought about the weeks that Gypsy was there for her. Please God…if You care about animals and I believe you do…please take care of her.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Grace opened the door and walked in. Blaise was stitching Gypsy as a beautiful woman in a lab coat monitored one of the machines connected to the dog.
“You must be Grace,” the woman smiled, looking up. “I’m Dr. Douglass. Annie.”
Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 24
