“Can’t…feel…my legs.”
“Oh, God, Duel. You have to let me help you.”
“Listen…to…me.” He coughed and a crimson stream trickled down the side of his mouth. “Get…in…cabin. He’s…coming, baby.”
“Duel, please—”
“Damn it!” He coughed spraying blood in a fine mist. “For…once, do…as…I say. Get…inside.”
Flayme nodded. Tears rolled down her face. Her hands were wet and slick with his blood. She rocked back and forth on her knees. “I hate you for making me do this.”
“I…know. Go.”
She got up.
“Stay…low,” he said urgently. “Low!”
Flayme dropped to the ground and crawled to the cabin steps. Crouching, she crossed the porch and slammed the door behind her. Keying in the alarm and lock, she slid to the floor and drew her knees up close. “Don’t let him die,” she whispered in a shaky voice. “Don’t let him die.”
Burying her face against her knees, she sobbed. She’d never felt such terror, not even when she was being shot at had she felt the way she did now. She was a coward, she thought, angry with herself. Here she sat bawling while the man she loved lay wounded and helpless, willing to die for her. She could do no less for him.
Raising her head, Flayme swiped away the tears. She’d left him lying there, defenseless. How could she leave him lying there in the snow, the cold, bleeding? He would never have left her. She cupped a hand across her eyes and sobbed. She had to help him. Somehow. “There must be a way.”
Dropping her hand, and desperate, she looked around, her mind wild. If he lived, if they both survived this, how could he ever forgive her? How could she ever forgive herself? The answer to that was simple. He wouldn’t. And she couldn’t.
“Oh, God.” She mopped away her tears on her shirt sleeve and waited for the sound of a gunshot. Waited. Waited. Where was he? The bastard. What was he waiting on? Then it dawned on her. The assassin was waiting on her. Waiting for her to make a move or come out and die. Frantic, her gaze settled on the crossbow on the wall. Yes!
Flayme leapt to her feet and rushed across the room. Lifting the bow off the wall, she grabbed the quiver of arrows and raced to the sliding doors that opened onto the back deck. From there, a wooden ladder built against the slanted side of the roof led to the top.
The wood shingle roof lay buried under a half-foot of snow, making it impossible to hurry. Hurrying was treacherous as she quickly learned when she slipped on a patch of ice. Flayme tried to catch her balance, but fell. Landing flat on her stomach, she slid back to the edge of the roof. “Shit!”
Settling on her butt, she eyed the jagged tear on her forearm. Crimson liquid slid down her arm and dripped off her elbow. Nausea slapped her with a one-two punch, making her lightheaded. She lowered her head between her knees and dragged in several deep breaths. At last, the dizziness left her and she was able to look at the wound without swooning or throwing up.
There must have been a nail, and of course, she’d found it. Ripping off the bottom of her shirt, she tied a makeshift bandage around her arm. Then, snatching up the bow once again, she crawled up the roof, ignoring the pain. She wasn’t hurt nearly as bad as Duel. He needed her help. This was no time to wimp out.
Reaching the center ridge of the roof, she dropped to her belly once again and peeped over the edge. Duel hadn’t moved and she wondered if he was still breathing.
“Please, God, take care of him until I can. I love him.”
She turned her attention to the woods, watching for any sign of movement. Nothing. What the hell was he doing, playing a game of cat and mouse with her? Right. And she was the ill-fated mouse? Not today, she thought. Today—she was a lioness. The love of her life was in trouble. She’d save him or die trying.
There!
He was there, creeping along the edge of the tree line moving as slow as a snail toward the cabin. Flayme watched the assassin slip away from the cover of the forest, crouch, look around, then move forward with caution. The man was dressed in white from head to toe. The first time she’d scanned the area with the scope, she’d completely missed him tucked low behind a snow-covered log.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, rested the bow on the center ridge and watched him through the scope. “Come on,” she whispered. “I need one clear shot.”
She couldn’t believe it when he stood up and ambled toward the cabin. “Cocksure sonofabitch.” Flayme lined him up in the scope, set the red light on his shoulder and slowly squeezed the trigger. The arrow flew, silent, smooth and straight at her target.
“Ahhhhh!”
“Yes!” Flayme watched as he dropped his weapon and crashed to the ground. He skittered around, rising, and stumbling back into the woods. “Not so proud of yourself now, are you?” she yelled from the roof. “Go on, run, you sniveling coward!”
She crept down the roof and dropped onto the deck. Flayme felt like punching the air with a victory fist. She’d nailed the bastard good. Racing through the house to the front door, she flung it open and hurried down the steps.
“Duel!” Flayme fell down beside him and cradled his head in her arms. “Come on, cowboy, open your eyes. Talk to me. I’m going to have your baby. You aren’t dying and leaving me knocked up.”
He opened his eyes. “Flayme?”
“Yeah, I’m right here. I’m here.”
“House. Go…inside.”
She laughed. “You have a one track mind. I’m not leaving you. He’s gone, at least for now.” The noisy whirr of a chopper overhead drew her gaze away from Duel. “Please, let it be help.”
The helicopter landed in the clearing and two people emerged, ducking and running toward her. Flayme laughed. She didn’t think she’d ever been happier to see Samantha Rivers as she was at this moment. “Hurry,” she said. “He’s in a bad way.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes!
~Maya Angelou
Denver, Colorado
St. Anthony Central Hospital
February 20, Friday
9:00 p.m.
Flayme sat beside Kaycee and Jace Remington and like them, waited for a report from the surgeon or some other member from the hospital staff. It was easy to like the couple, and certainly she saw the resemblance between Duel and his brother, not only in looks, but in their rock steady support.
They were the kind of men who’d settled the West, tough, fierce, and protective of the people and things that mattered. They’d always be there when they were needed.
Travis was one of those kinds of males. The agent had stepped out to book a flight back to D.C. for Sam and himself. Samantha sat to her right sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. Hospital coffee was always bitter, strong, and black, but they all needed the healthy dose of caffeine.
“Remington family?” The serious sounding voice cut like a knife into her thoughts, jarring her back to her surroundings.
“Yes?” Jace rose to his feet.
The man held out his hand. “I’m Doctor Brozil.”
Jace shook the physician’s hand. “Jace Remington. Duel’s my brother.”
“Mr. Remington. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. Your brother’s condition is serious. He’s stable now, but he lost a lot of blood. We had to transfuse him, six units during surgery and I’ve ordered three more to be given immediately.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Kaycee looped her hand through her husband’s arm.
“My wife, Kaycee.”
Doctor Brozil nodded. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be rough, and even after that, your brother will have a long term problem. One of the bullets was a through and through, and thankfully did little damage. But the other one entered his right side, struck a rib and pretty much tumbled around all over the place. It nicked his liver, then hit his groin, nipping his femoral artery, the reason he lost so much blood. We repaired the liver. We had to t
ake a vein from his left leg to repair the artery. The problem is, the bullet lodged right against his spine and for now, it’s too risky to operate again. He’s too weak.”
“What?” Jace looked stunned.
Flayme swallowed hard. “That’s why he couldn’t feel his legs?”
“Yes.” The doctor looked at her questioning.
“I’m Flayme Jansen, Duel’s fiancée. I was with him when he was shot.”
Jace and Kaycee both gave her odd looks. She could hardly blame them. Until now, she hadn’t said anything about her and Duel’s plans to marry.
“Ah, I see.” The surgeon nodded. “You’re the young lady he’s been asking for.”
“Is he going to be able to walk?” Sam asked.
Doctor Brozil frowned. “Maybe, but it’s going to be slow. He needs time to heal from what he’s been through. However, it’s imperative he have that bullet removed as soon as it’s safe to take him back into surgery. You need to locate a specialist who’s willing to risk removing the bullet, but right now, he’s too unstable. It’s going to take patience on his part. I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you the outlook was better, but a lot of it is going to depend on his attitude and the support of the ones he loves.”
Kaycee smiled. “We’ve been down this road before, doctor. He’ll have all the support he needs from all of us.”
“Good. He’s in recovery. We’ll move him to ICU as soon as he’s more alert. He’ll be hooked up to a lot of equipment, so don’t be alarmed.”
Flayme nodded. “May I see him?”
“Once we get him settled in ICU, you can each see him for five minutes. A nurse will come out and let you know when. He’s going to be pretty muzzy, so don’t expect much response from him.”
“Thank you,” Jace said.
Samantha edged closer to Flayme. “Travis has our flight booked. We leave in three hours.”
“We?”
Sam frowned. “You, Travis, and I, we’ll get you into a witness protection program in D.C.”
Flayme looked around. Jace watched her as did Kaycee, but neither said a word. Ultimately, she figured they were letting her make a choice without trying to influence her decision. She shook her head. “I’m not going to D.C.”
“But,” Sam blinked. “You won’t be—”
“Duel needs me,” Flayme interrupted. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jace sigh with relief.
“You won’t be safe here, Flayme,” Sam said.
“Why would I be any safer in D.C.?”
“Well…I—”
“I’m not going.”
“You could die, Flayme.”
“And Duel almost died because of me. I can risk no less for him. He needs me here and that’s the end of the discussion. If you need to hire another secretary, then please, go ahead. I understand.”
“No—”
“In fact,” Flayme interrupted, “do go ahead and hire someone in my place. I won’t be returning to D.C. at all, except as a witness when you need me.”
Jace grinned and patted her shoulder. “Welcome to the family, Flayme Jansen. I have a feeling my brother has finally met his match.”
She laughed. “You have no idea.”
Epilogue
On my tombstone just write, ‘The sorest loser that ever lived.’
~Earl Weaver
Denver, Colorado
February 20, Friday
2:00 a.m.
“The bitch shot me with a fucking crossbow,” Zaden yelled into the phone. “I got a hole in my shoulder the size of a golf ball. You never said a word about her being a hunter or her ability to shoot a bow. She shot me!”
“But did you get her?” Kane asked, sounding bored. “Did you get her and the agent?”
“I got him. Don’t know if he’s dead or alive though. The damn spooks showed up in a whirlybird, took both targets outta there. You didn’t tell me I’d have to deal with the CIA popping up.”
“The first lady was assassinated. Every department of government is crawling out of the woodwork,” Kane said patiently. “I told you that.”
“I’m done here. I can’t shoot with my shoulder like this. Bitch got my gun arm.”
“I agree. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to get close to either one of them now that they know a hit man is near.”
Zaden groaned. “I need painkillers, damn it!”
“Stop whining. Why don’t you join me here in Podunk? We’ll lay low a couple of days—kill a couple of bottles of tequila, give your arm time to mend. Two hunters are always better than one. We’ll track down Jayla and this cowboy the senator thinks she’s ran to for help.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of days. I need a doctor.”
“Forget that. You’ll see me today.”
“But I’m bleeding!”
“Christ, will you just plug it and get on the plane? I want you here as soon as possible. I’m damn tired of these Remington men getting in my way. I want this over and done.”
Zaden sighed. “I’ll be there, but this pain…it’s going to cost you.”
* * * *
Denver, Colorado
St. Anthony Central Hospital
February 24, Tuesday
Flayme sat down in a chair beside Duel’s bed and took his hand. He looked pale and so damn beautiful she wanted to cry. Heck, it seemed to her all she’d done the last couple of days was bawl.
“Hey, beautiful.” He sounded weak. He tugged her closer for a kiss. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
He stroked a fingertip along the top of her hand. “I should tell you to go, but I can’t bear the thought of you returning to D.C. without me.”
“I’m not going back to Washington, at least not without you. Sam called and she located a surgeon there who’s willing to remove that bullet pressed against your spine.”
He nodded and rubbed the top of her hand. She felt the slight tremble in his fingertips, his uncertainty. “You know I could end up paralyzed for the rest of my life?”
“Yes.”
“Flayme—”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “I’m not leaving you, so don’t insist I go to D.C.”
“You shouldn’t have risked staying here without protection. You could get killed, doll baby. I’m in no shape to protect you.”
“I could get killed crossing a busy intersection.” Tears welled into her eyes. “You almost died because of me. I’m not leaving you.”
Duel clasped her fingers between his. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay. It was my job to risk my life. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I know, and that’s why I love you so much.” Her voice broke. “Will you see the surgeon in D.C.?”
He squeezed her hand. “As long as you’re there with me, I can do anything. We’ll go as soon as the doc clears me to leave here, but I want you to be certain and fully understand I may never walk again.”
“I’m positive I love you. Nothing else matters, except that you get better.”
Duel fidgeted with the covers. “I swear to God I don’t want to tie you to a cripple, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“Shhh. You’ll walk again. Even if you don’t, I’m still not going anywhere. I love you, Duel Remington. When I gave my heart and body to you, I made a commitment for better or for worse. I don’t have to say the words aloud. I don’t need a piece of paper to fulfill my vows. In my heart, we’re already husband and wife, and my place is beside you.”
“Flayme.” His voice cracked. “I don’t think either of us was expecting the worse right away. I’m a selfish sonofabitch, because I can’t let you go. I know it isn’t fair to tie you to me like this.”
“You aren’t tying me to you. I’m tying you to me. You should know you’re going to be a father, so I have you good and trapped, cowboy.”
Tears traced the corners of his eyes. His eyes lit up. He squeezed her hand. “You took a test?”
“This morning.” She laughed, excit
ed. “It’s so pink, there’s no doubt. I took three of them just to be sure. They’re all rosy. I’m pregnant. So you don’t get to dump me so easy.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s going to be rough, me getting back on my feet.”
“Uh-huh.” She patted his arm. “I’ll be right beside you every new step you take.”
He grinned, that wicked roguish grin she adored. “My Nicole,” he said softly.
She laughed. “One day, you’re going to have to tell me who this Nicole person is. Should I be worried?”
“Nah. She’s a fantasy. You’re the real deal. You’re the only woman who matters to me.” He pulled her close and kissed her mouth. Releasing her, he studied her for a moment. “So, you brought down the assassin with the crossbow? You know, there was a rifle you could have used.”
“Yep, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I didn’t know how many there were and you said an arrow was swift and quiet.”
Duel laughed and grabbed his side. “Ow, don’t make me laugh. How do you feel about learning how to throw a knife? It’s swift and quiet, too.”
“Pretty damn good. How does one learn the proper technique?”
“Well.” He drew her closer for a kiss. “It’s all in the flick of the wrist…”
To be Continued…
About the Author
Jaydyn Chelcee is a native of Oklahoma who gives credit for her love for the
Western states her desire to write contemporary western romances.
She is the author of the popular Montana Men Series. Book One—In the
Arms of Danger, Book Two—No Holds Barred. Book Three—Too Hot to Handle/Too Close to the Fire
Writing as Tabitha Shay, she is the author of the hit paranormal romances, Winslow Witches
Of Salem Series. Book One—Witch’s Brew, followed with Witch’s Heart,
Witch’s Moon, Witch’s Magic, and Witch’s Fire. Witch’s Heart won first place in the
Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) Page 40
