Cheyenne McCray - Point Blank (Lawmen Book 4)

by Unknown

  Brooks smiled. “Just feed me when I come to see you and the baby doll, and I’ll be happy.”

  “That car…” Christie shook her head. “I saw the man’s eyes and I could tell he was aiming straight for me. Why would he want to run over me?”

  Natasha said nothing as she turned off the water. She grabbed a clean white towel from beneath the cabinet. Brooks saw the tension in her features. He felt it deep in his gut that she was taking the blame for this, and it had something to do with why she’d been so upset and withdrawn.

  “I don’t know why.” Brooks let out his breath. He wouldn’t insult Christie’s intelligence by brushing it off by telling her the guy probably hadn’t seen her, just to make her feel better. “Could have been a case of mistaken identity. I just don’t know.”

  Christie winced again as Natasha poured hydrogen peroxide over one injured palm. “It’s crazy. Why would anyone want to kill me?”

  “Brooks might be right.” Natasha didn’t look at Christie. “The man probably thought you were someone else.”

  “Maybe.” Christie stared at her hands where the hydrogen peroxide bubbled and foamed on each cut and raw area.

  Blood made the foam pink. Christie remained silent as Natasha finished up by patting her hands dry with the towel, putting Betadine on the wounds then put a little Neosporin on each of the bigger injuries. Natasha finished by wrapping gauze around Christie’s hands.

  “I feel like I have mummy hands.” Christie plopped on the closed toilet lid as Natasha forced her down and examined her knees.

  Natasha proceeded to grab a clean white cloth in the cabinet beneath the sink. She wet it and set to working on Christie’s knees.

  Christie glanced at Brooks. “We need to take a look at your leg.”

  “I’m not pulling my pants down for either of you ladies.” Brooks winked at Christie who laughed.

  They both turned to Natasha as red crept up her neck to her face. She refused to look at either of them while she finished attending to Christie’s knees. He had a strong feeling that Christie knew he’d spent the night with her cousin.

  Natasha finished cleaning with the hydrogen peroxide, Betadine, and Neosporin. “Looks like your palms took the worst of it.”

  “Thanks, Nat.” Christie looked at Brooks. “Your T-shirt is torn, and so is your overshirt.” Christie gestured to his belly. “If you won’t remove your pants, you can at least take off your two shirts and let us check out your abs.” She wore a mischievous expression.

  Brooks held back a grin. “If it will make you happy.”

  She nodded. “It will.”

  He shrugged out of the overshirt and tossed it aside before removing his shoulder holster and setting it, Walther and all, on a small table in the restroom. He tugged his now ragged and slightly bloody T-shirt over his head and let it land on top of the other shirt. Natasha stared at his chest, as if unable to look away.

  “Talk about definition and a hard body.” Christie spoke as Brooks watched Natasha. “Don’t you think so, Nat?”

  “I think you’re right—Brooks needs to be cleaned up.” She dropped the cloth that was pink with Christie’s blood into the sink. Natasha knelt and grabbed another fluffy white washcloth from the cabinet under the sink again before straightening and wetting it. “He has several cuts and scrapes.”

  “You’re scraped down your side and getting a bruise where your gun was.” Christie gestured to his side. His body ached like hell, especially in that location. “You must have landed on the holster. I bet that hurts like crazy.”

  “Yep, I did land on it.” He looked at his side. He had a feeling the imprint of his holster would be purple in no time. “But it’ll be fine.”

  Natasha looked wary as she approached him and still wouldn’t meet his gaze. He could have told her he’d do it himself, but he wanted to feel her delicate fingers on his skin. God, how he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her.

  He watched as she started washing the affected area. Just her soft touch made his groin tighten and he felt his cock hardening.

  Shit. Not a good thing with Natasha’s cousin watching.

  Old Mrs. Whitcomb’s tits, old Mrs. Whitcomb’s tits, old Mrs. Whitcomb’s tits.

  The thought of the old bat who had terrorized him and her other students back in Big Sky Elementary was enough to douse his arousal. He relaxed as his cock did the same.

  He sucked his breath in through his teeth when Natasha touched a sensitive location on his side.

  “Sorry.” She gave him an apologetic look. Their eyes met and held for a few moments before she tore her gaze away. “Other spots are probably going to hurt more.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” He clenched his teeth as she cleaned more blood away, along with a great deal of asphalt. The cloth grew increasingly red-streaked and spotted with his blood.

  “You need to get an x-ray of your leg to make sure nothing is fractured.” Natasha now ignored the grimaces Brooks tried to hold back as she cleansed his wounds. “You should go straight to the hospital after I finish here.”

  “I’m sure my leg is fine.” He almost laughed when Natasha narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. “I’m just sore and could use a long hot bath.”

  “Hospital,” Natasha said curtly. “When you leave.”

  “I don’t need to—”

  “I mean it.” She glared at him, a deadly stare if he’d ever seen one. “Do it, Brooks.”

  He raised his hands. “All right, Nurse Natasha.”

  She made a humph sound as she got to her feet and dropped the washcloth in the sink next to the one she’d used on Christie. Natasha gestured for him to come closer. “I’ll finish up and you can get to the hospital.”

  “Natasha’s right.” Christie looked at her gauze-wrapped hands. “You shouldn’t chance anything.”

  He shook his head, wanting to laugh. He had no plans to go to the hospital but he figured he had to appease them, and if lying did the job, so be it. “Message received. Loud and clear.”

  “Good,” Natasha and Christie said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

  Seeing Natasha laugh made Brooks smile. For that one moment he could see the woman he’d met in Denver, the same one he’d seen in the surveillance photos, the one Christie always talked about.

  In the next moment, the laughter was gone from her eyes, leaving a sadness so profound it made his heart ache for her.

  Heat rose within him and he wanted to kill whoever had taken her joy.

  CHAPTER 15

  When both Christie’s and Brooks’s wounds were attended to, he pulled on his ragged T-shirt, secured his shoulder holster, and settled his western hat on his head. He watched Natasha without letting her know that was what he was doing. He shoved his arms into the sleeves of his torn overshirt, while trying to wrap his thoughts around what had been happening since the first day of the tradeshow.

  He had no doubt the incident with the man trying to run down Christie was related to Natasha’s behavior, and the fear even more present in her eyes.

  Christie looked from Brooks to Natasha. “I’d better get home.” She bit her lower lip. “I don’t feel right being away from Jessica right now.”

  Natasha’s expression was twisted with concern and she gave Christie a hug. “Do you need me to drive you?”

  “I’m fine.” Christie shook her head. “I just need to get home.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” Brooks adjusted his shirt so it covered his weapon. “Do you have everything?”

  “My shoulder bag.” Christie looked around the restroom and Natasha handed her the pink purse. Christie hooked it over her shoulder and gave Natasha a big hug. She leaned back. “Are you okay, Nat?”

  “I’m the one who needs to ask you that.” Natasha’s eyes grew glossy, as if she was about to cry. “You could have been killed.”

  “But I wasn’t.” Christie smiled and looked at Brooks. “Thanks to this wonderful white knight. Twice now.�
�

  “At your service.” He tried for a teasing tone.

  “Sour cream chicken enchiladas and red velvet cake.” She grinned. “Next Sunday, don’t be late.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t have to worry one little bit about that.”

  Christie gave Natasha another hug. “I’ll call you. And you will be at next Sunday’s football party.”

  Natasha smiled, but Brooks could tell she had to work at it. “Be careful driving home.”

  “Definitely.” Christie turned to Brooks. “I’m ready.”

  He made what could be considered a gallant bow that a knight might give a lady in the old tales. “After you, Lady Davidson.”

  Christie laughed and her eyes sparkled as she glanced at Natasha. “What did I say? A true white knight.”

  Natasha smiled. “I’ll call.”

  “You’d better.” Christie left the restroom and walked into the store.

  Brooks gestured for Natasha to go in front of him and then he followed both women to the front entrance. The women couldn’t resist hugging each other one last time, and then Brooks escorted Christie outside.

  He looked at Natasha who stood in the store’s doorway. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “Not necessary.” She shook her head. “I have a lot to do.”

  “I’ll be back,” he repeated.

  Doing his best not to limp, he put his hand on Christie’s shoulder and escorted her across the street, after making damned good and sure no cars were even close. He also checked to see that the vehicle used in the attempt to run her down was nowhere in sight.

  Her SUV was parked close to his truck, and he opened the door for her after she pressed the unlock button on her fob. She winced as she climbed into the vehicle.

  He braced one hand on the top of the SUV and one on the door. “Sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to be sore and my hands sting a bit, but otherwise I’ll be just fine.”

  He thumped the side of the SUV. “Be careful driving home.” She nodded and smiled, and he closed the door for her.

  His phone vibrated in its holster on his belt. He pulled out his cell and checked the display. It was Jase Wright.

  “Jase.” Brooks walked toward the street, back the way he’d come, and grimaced from the pain. “What’s going on?”

  “A call came in about Natasha Simpson.” Jase sounded concerned. “An unidentified woman left a tip that Natasha is in trouble and has been an unwitting pawn until recently. The caller said Natasha discovered she was being used, and her family and friends’ lives have been threatened. According to her, everyone Natasha is related to is in danger.”

  “Shit.” Brooks let out a harsh breath. “I had a feeling that’s what was going on.”

  “The woman said all of Natasha’s family needs to be under watch without letting anyone know that’s what’s happening.” Jase’s voice grew tighter. “If they go into protective custody, bad shit will happen.”

  Brooks cursed as he walked back to the sidewalk from the parking lot. “Was the call traced?” He didn’t have any real hope it had been.

  “The phone was a burner and tossed in a garbage receptacle not far from Natasha’s store. Near the old post office,” Jase said. “No prints on the phone.”

  “I was just at Natasha’s shop.” Brooks glanced at the street. “Someone deliberately tried to run Christie Davidson down.” He didn’t mention his own injuries or how he got them. “She’s lucky to be alive.”

  “Goddamn.” Jase growled the word. “Do you want to call Trace or should I do it?”

  “I’ll do it.” Brooks reached the sidewalk and looked across the street at Natasha’s shop. It looked darker inside than it had been, and he realized the lights had been turned off. He frowned. “Is Trace at the office?”

  “He’s out on assignment,” Jase said. “Are you going to be in contact with Natasha even though she’s been threatened if she goes to law enforcement?”

  “Already have been.” Brooks looked up and down the street. “I’m just hoping no one knows I’m with ICE.”

  “You were undercover for so long, it’s possible they won’t,” Jase said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking, but I’m not going to take chances.” After checking both ways, Brooks started across the street. “I’ll get to her, and make sure the people threatening her won’t have a clue.”

  “What can I do?” Jase asked.

  “I’ll call and let you know.” Brooks reached the opposite side of the street. The crosswalk was a couple of doors down from Natasha’s shop. “Just be prepared.”

  “Will do.” Jase signed off.

  Brooks pressed the “end call” icon on his phone and walked up to Natasha’s store. It was definitely dark inside. He tried the door handle. Locked.

  He cursed. It was likely Natasha had left, probably through the back exit. He was LE and no doubt she felt in danger around him. He couldn’t say he blamed her.

  Regardless, he had to talk with her and work something out. He had to help her—he wouldn’t allow her, or the ones she loved, to remain in danger.

  He checked to see if he was being watched. He couldn’t be entirely positive. Someone might be watching from a shop across the street, just as he’d planned to watch Natasha’s store before he saw the car bearing down on Christie.

  If Natasha had gone out the back door, there was a chance that whoever was watching her wouldn’t know. He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving off a casual appearance, and walked toward the rear of the building. When he was out of sight of the street, he jogged to the back in time to see Natasha heading up a street toward a parking lot on the hill. He winced as he hurried, the pain from the accident causing him to clench his jaw.

  He looked around again before walking along the sidewalk behind her. His strides were much longer and he reached her in moments. He caught her by the arm, forcing her to stop.

  She let out a cry of surprise and her eyes went wide when she saw it was Brooks. She held her hand to her heart as her eyes flickered with relief, followed by anger, then fear and panic.

  “Go.” She jerked her arm away from him and took a step back. “I don’t want you near me.”

  “I know something is going on, Natasha.” Brooks hardened his expression. “We know what happened to Christie was intentional, and I’d bet any damned thing in this world you know why.”

  “I told you to stay away from me.” Natasha’s face went red. “I’m more grateful than you can imagine that you saved Christie. But I don’t want you near me.”

  “You mean you can’t have me near you.” His words came out harsher than he’d intended. “Someone has warned you to stay away from law enforcement.”

  A greater look of fear passed over her face, so much so that Brooks let her back away from him. “Get out of here, you bastard.” She hissed the last word.

  She whirled and practically ran up the hill.

  He ground his teeth and did his best to ignore the pain as he jogged down to the alleyway behind Natasha’s shop and then to the street again. He made sure it was clear before striding across it and going to his truck. He knew Natasha’s address and she would have to drive past him to get to her home.

  It was later in the morning, and tourists and locals were walking up and down either side of the street. He saw a man and woman stop by Natasha’s and look at her window displays before seeing that the shop was closed and moving on.

  Usually he had no problem being patient. Not this time. What if he’d been wrong to leave her alone? He clenched his jaw then relaxed it as he saw her car come up the street. She had the window down, as if needing the fresh air to clear her head. Her dark hair had loosened a bit more, and it fluttered around her face. She had both hands on the wheel of the new yellow Beetle as she drove from Main Street and further up Tombstone Canyon, to the street on the hillside where she lived.

  He waited to make sure she didn’t have a tail. He was about to head out of the parking
lot to follow her, when a 1970’s green Ford Maverick pulled away from the curb and slowly traveled behind Natasha’s vehicle.

  Brooks was certain the man was tailing Natasha. Brooks drove his truck out of the parking lot and followed both the Maverick and the Beetle.

  While he drove, he connected his phone with his truck’s Bluetooth and called Trace by voice command.

  Trace answered in two rings. “What’s going on, Brooks? I bumped into Jase about two minutes ago and was about to call you.”

  Brooks figured a face-to-face would be better when it came to telling Trace about the investigation that included Natasha. So he decided on the bare bones.

  “I need you to understand that I can’t explain everything right now.” Brooks guided his truck up through Tombstone Canyon as he followed Natasha’s tail. “It’s important you listen to me and take my word for it.”

  “What the hell are you getting at?” Trace had an edge to his voice.

  “You need to get home and stay with Christie and the baby.” Brooks blew out his breath. “Something is going down that has to do with Natasha and her extended family. Natasha and Christie’s grandparents in Florida are in danger.” He held back fury burning in his gut, not wanting to worry Trace even more. “First of all, Christie is fine. But someone tried to run her down earlier.”

  “Jesus.” Fear for his wife was clear in Trace’s voice. “Are you sure she’s all right?”

  “She’s a little scraped and bruised.” Brooks worked for a calm tone. “Otherwise, she’s okay.”

  “Shit.” Trace blew out the word in a growl. “I’m headed out the door, but you damned well better tell me what the fuck is going on. Does it have to do with Christie’s ex and the cartel?”

  “No.” Brooks clenched the steering wheel. “Natasha’s in trouble, and we can’t allow anyone to know law enforcement is involved. This is life or death for her and everyone she’s related to. Just get home with your girls and I’ll talk with you about it when I can. Right now I’m tailing someone who I think is following Natasha.”