by Liz Johnson
“I didn’t—that was an accident.”
He shot a sly look in her direction. “Sure it was.”
Those knowing looks he kept sending her way were making her stomach squirm. In an entirely not unpleasant way.
And she didn’t like it one bit.
He was going to be close by until Cole was captured. She’d put up with it until then. And then she could put a little space between them.
Space. That’s what she needed.
*
Zach followed Kristi’s stiff directions to one of the hospital’s side entrances. She hadn’t said much since he’d teased her about her hair, and she’d leaned about as far away from him as she could get in the small car.
He made a mental note to keep his thoughts about her hair to himself. Which was too bad. She had gorgeous hair. Gorgeous everything, really.
But those curls. They were practically an invitation to run his fingers through them.
Not that he would. Ever.
At least not without a verbal invitation—which he doubted he’d ever get.
He found a parking spot and stepped out of the car. And just as he was about to open the back door, a white circle danced across the roof of the car. Like a reflection from a mirror, it bounced back and forth. But the angle was all wrong for it to come from another car.
He squinted into the sun, searching for anything that would cause it, but he couldn’t see a thing.
As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished—leaving behind an unsettled feeling in his stomach.
“You okay?” Kristi asked. “Do you want me to get him?”
“No. I mean, I’m fine. I’ll get Cody.” He opened up the door, still looking over his shoulder, but there was nothing. No suspicious cars in the parking lot. No one on the roof of the adjacent building. Yet his senses were all screaming that something was about to happen. That he had to be alert.
As he set Cody on his feet and closed the door, he surveyed their surroundings one last time. The only other people in the parking lot were a family of four, including a baby in a car seat, and two nurses in their blue scrubs.
Maybe his body hadn’t relaxed after a year of being on edge, every minute of every day. But this wasn’t Lybania, and he wasn’t facing terrorists. Maybe he was seeing something that wasn’t there.
Except the shiver running down his back didn’t ease.
Pressing a hand to Kristi’s back and wrapping his other arm around Cody’s shoulders, he ushered them toward the sliding glass doors that announced the cardiology unit. Cody shuffled his feet and nearly tripped over a low curb, but Zach grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him up.
“Want a lift, little man?”
Cody looked up with drooping eyes and a sad frown and gave him a quick nod.
He scooped Cody up in time to see Kristi mouth a quick “Thank you.” Cody was small for his age but still too big for Kristi to carry very far. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d managed for so long on her own. Had she just powered through because there was nothing else to be done?
As they reached the sidewalk in front of the building, they moved to the side to allow a large group to exit. But just before they could step inside, the world exploded.
A gunshot split the crowd, its crack sharper than a whip. Every eye turned to the column right in front of Zach, a cloud of dust escaping from the fresh bullet hole. When a second shot rocketed past them, everyone screamed at once.
The noise was deafening. High-pitched and terrified, shrieks echoed off the side of the building, surrounding them and building fear with every reverberation.
He had to shut it out so he could do what needed to be done. Protect the target. Identify the shooter. Those tasks were all that mattered.
Grabbing Kristi’s arm, he spun them behind a large potted plant and squatted low. Running his hands up and down Cody’s arms and legs in search of an injury, he demanded, “Were you hit?” When Kristi didn’t answer, he jerked his head in her direction. “Were you hit?”
She frantically shook her head as another bullet tore through the shrubbery over their heads. He pulled her close, tucking her beneath his arm and covering her body with his, Cody sandwiched between them. He couldn’t tell who was shaking—Cody, his mom or both. So he ran his hands up and down their arms to keep them engaged. He couldn’t let them check out yet. Not when there was no telling what would come next.
What came next was more bullets in quick succession. He kept his breathing even and his hands steady. If only he could get a good look at the shooter. But when he tried to peek over the top of the large urn, another shot went off, this one far too close to his ear.
The others who had been by the entrance were long gone, sprinting toward their cars. Thankfully the sidewalks were clean. No sign of blood or injury.
Because the shooter was targeting only one person.
It made his chest ache and his head spin, and he couldn’t hold Kristi’s trembling form close enough. Her head fit under his chin, her shoulder beneath his.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”
But his words didn’t make the hail of bullets stop.
And then he heard the sweet song of police sirens. Just like that, as quickly as they’d started, the shots ended.
He didn’t dare get up until every window and roof on the opposite building had been checked. Most likely the cops had scared the shooter off. But Zach wasn’t about to play fast and loose with the lives in his arms.
He released Kristi just enough for her to look up at him, eyes wild and curls askew. Her face was filled with a hundred questions, but she only dropped her gaze to her son and cupped his cheeks in her palms. “Are you all right?”
Cody looked mildly shell-shocked but shrugged anyway. “I’m okay.”
She turned her arm, and Zach saw a red swath from her elbow to her shoulder. Grabbing her with less finesse and more fear, he said, “I thought you said you weren’t hit.” The words were harsher than he’d intended, but the dread that clogged his throat demanded nothing less.
Kristi followed his gaze to the smear of blood and frowned, looking puzzled. “It’s not me. I’m not…” Her eyes widened in alarm when she looked at his shoulder. “Oh, Zach.”
She scrambled to pull off her sweater and pressed it against his arm.
Pain seared through him like a flash of lightning. It was as if his entire arm was on fire, and he hadn’t even noticed. Only now could he feel the blood rolling down to his elbow.
But at least it was his and not hers.
FOUR
“I’m okay.” As soon as he said the words, Zach knew they were a lie. Blood was still seeping from his arm, and his vision was already starting to go gray. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d wind up flat on his back with a slew of doctors and nurses hovering over him.
He clamped his hand over Kristi’s, pressing her sweater harder against his wound and squishing her slender fingers in the process. She didn’t even flinch. Her eyes deep pools of concern, she leaned over Cody, closing the space between them.
“You’re going to be all right. Help’s on the way.”
He pinched his eyes closed and nodded. “Swhat I said. I’m goo’.” Was it just him, or did he sound like he’d gone a few too many rounds in a boxing ring?
Focus.
He had to stay alert. Stay in the moment. He had to keep them safe.
Kristi shifted her hand, her finger digging into his wound, and he nearly shot to his feet. He would have if her other hand hadn’t cupped his cheek, her thumb taking a slow stroll along his cheekbone, sending his heart pounding.
No, that was the strain of the scenario. Had to be.
He leaned his uninjured shoulder into the cement planter and took a sharp breath. Just focus on the pain. Don’t think about silky hands. Or pretty brown eyes.
Think about the shooter.
Vaguely he heard feet pounding toward them. Someone squawked into his radio. “Three civil
ians.”
“He was hit!” Kristi cried.
Zach waved his hand to cut her off. There was no need for this kind of fuss. But before he could say anything, a tall black police officer squatted right beside them.
“How many times were you hit?”
“Once.” Zach gave himself a moment to catch another breath and make sure he hadn’t missed another injury. Legs? Fine. Abs? Okay. Chest? Still there. “Just my shoulder.”
The officer nodded, repeating the news into his shoulder radio. When he turned to Cody, who still hovered beside his mom, the cop’s voice turned gentler. “Were you hurt?”
The little boy shook his head before pointing. “Zach’s bleeding.”
“I know, and help is on the way.”
The ringing in Zach’s ears turned sharper, and he turned to lean his head against the planter, but Kristi caught him, cradling him against her shoulder and resting her cheek against the top of his head.
“How long does it take to get help? We’re at the hospital.”
The police officer seemed to understand that it was a rhetorical question. They were at the hospital—but at the cardiac unit. It would take a few minutes for the police to secure the area so the emergency responders knew it was safe to move in.
“Did you see the shooter?”
Kristi shook her head, her curls tickling the back of his neck. “I didn’t see anything.”
Zach tried to sit up a little straighter, but it turned into more of a slump. “He was on the building—” he flopped his good arm in the general direction “—across the parking lot.”
Both the police officer and Kristi whipped their heads around as though they would catch a glimpse of the gunman.
The cop swung back just as quickly. “How do you know?”
“Saw his scope reflecting. On top of the car.”
Shock crossed the cop’s face. Zach guessed that most civilians didn’t pay attention to strange reflections. Well, he wasn’t a civilian.
“I’m a SEAL.”
The surprise was replaced by something that could only be identified as respect. “I didn’t realize.”
Why should he have? Zach was out of uniform and out of sorts. On the ground and mentally fuzzy wasn’t his usual stance.
But his family was safe. At least for the moment.
The cop turned his head and spoke into his radio, relaying Zach’s information. “SWAT’s going in to clear the area. It’ll be just a few minutes.”
“But he’s been shot.” Kristi’s voice cracked under the strain. “Can’t we get him inside?”
“Not without leaving him—and anyone helping him—exposed.” The cop offered a half smile and tried for a little humor. “Besides, he’s probably been hit before.”
“Actually, no.” Zach could remember a whole lot of pain in his years with the teams, but this particular discomfort was new. Getting shot hurt. With a capital H.
The blood loss wasn’t much better. It was making him woozy and far too focused on the gentle slope of the underside of Kristi’s chin. The urge to touch her surged through him. He caught his hand at the last minute and forced it back to his shoulder.
Nope. He wasn’t allowed to do that.
But she’s your wife. Your very, very pretty wife.
Not exactly.
She signed the license.
But she hadn’t agreed to anything more than a marriage in name only. Because she was scared and on her own and he’d offered to help. And he’d rather shoot his other arm than do anything to break her trust. Besides, he wasn’t the kind of man she wanted. He never had been, and he didn’t know how to be.
The cop’s radio squawked, the words a jumbled mess, except for the crucial phrase “All clear.”
In an instant, three nurses pushing a gurney charged into the open, their tennis shoes slapping against the cement and nearly covering the low squeak of one of the gurney wheels.
“Can you get up?” A formidable blonde leaned over him, looking like she’d pick him up herself if he wasn’t able.
Everything in him wanted to stay where he was and fall into oblivion. But a stupid bullet in his arm wasn’t going to keep him down. Not when the shooter was still at large, leaving his family in danger.
As he settled onto the gurney, Kristi grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “We’re right behind you.”
He closed his eyes and nodded but called out just before the nurses pushed him away. “Wait. I forgot…” His voice trailed off, and he sucked in a quick breath, snatching at as much air as he could get before quickly releasing it, trying to remember what he’d forgotten. “Bad shot.”
“What?” The cop stepped closer to him.
“The shooter. Had a scope but couldn’t have been a pro. Was a bad shot.”
Kristi shook her head frantically. “Bad? He hit you.”
“But he was aiming for you.”
*
Kristi couldn’t stop pacing after the nurses wheeled Zach away. During the interview with the police officer, she covered a four-foot space innumerable times. While his cardiologist checked on Cody, she marched back and forth across the exam room. When Cody looked up at her with confusion in his wide eyes, she tried to stop. But the pull was too strong, and she took a quick side-to-side step.
“Mom?” Cody’s voice was clear and strong, and she snapped to attention, noticing that the doctor had even halted his charting.
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Her second response sounded more like a question than the first, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Cody wasn’t being disrespectful or snide. He was just stating the fact, and it tore at her chest. He was so innocent, and she wanted to keep him that way. But she couldn’t deny that someone had shot Zach, or that that meant everything was very much not okay.
Combing his hair with her fingers, she tried for a smile, but her mouth seemed to have forgotten how to shape it. “You’re right, buddy. I’m scared.”
He was aiming for you.
Zach’s words rang in her head, terrifying and true.
“Not me.”
Dr. Guthrie smiled as he pulled his stethoscope from around his neck. “You’re pretty brave.”
“Don’t need to be.” A smirk fell across Cody’s face. “Zach promised he’d take care of us.”
Zach.
He had the skills and training to protect them, and he cared about their safety. But even a SEAL could be brought down by a bullet.
Any man could be.
In an instant, she was back on the ranch while a uniformed officer, holding his hat in both hands, said, “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”
“Sorry?” She nearly choked on the word.
Cops didn’t come to your front door when the cows got loose. Still…she hoped. She prayed. “We’ve fixed that fence a half-dozen times. Silly cows. We’ll get them rounded up.”
“It’s not your cows, ma’am.”
Her mouth went dry, a fist in her chest twisting everything inside. She could only shake her head.
The cop’s face crumpled. “It’s Aaron.”
She put up both hands as though she could stop him from breaking her heart. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
He didn’t comply. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, he’s been killed.”
Ice covered her until she was too frozen to even shiver.
“He was shot at the gas station.”
She hadn’t even been able to cry. Instead, she’d sunk to the floor and blacked out. The rest of that day had been a complete blank, not a single memory of her mother-in-law arriving and caring for Cody. Not the endless cups of tea pushed into her hands.
But when she staggered out from that stupor, her nightstand had been full of empty mugs, her bed turned into a cocoon of wool blankets.
She’d dressed in black and held Cody close as Aaron’s casket was lowered into the ground.
&nb
sp; It had been a fluke. People didn’t just walk around and get shot. She understood that.
At least she thought she did.
But now her second husband had been shot, too. And men died from bullet wounds.
She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to keep her mind from wandering down the hall to the ER, to where Zach was being treated for his wounds. The ER doctor had been very firm. She and Cody couldn’t go with Zach while he had his procedure, so she might as well take Cody in to see his cardiologist while Zach was being taken care of.
Only she couldn’t seem to focus on Dr. Guthrie’s words as he jotted notes into Cody’s chart.
“Mrs. McCloud?” The doctor sounded like he’d called her name several times, but she still jumped when his words broke through her consciousness.
“Yes? Yes.”
Dr. Guthrie pointed at Cody. “How many hours a night is he sleeping?”
“About ten or eleven.” She bit her lip, hoping that didn’t mean more bad news. At his frown, she hesitated to add more, but it had to be said. “And napping three to four hours throughout the day.”
He nodded, scribbled more and pinched his nose. “Well, young man, your oxygen levels are getting lower, which is making you pretty sleepy.”
Even now, Cody’s eyes drooped, as if the effort of remaining upright on the exam table was just too much.
“What can we do?” She sounded defeated already. And she hated it.
Except…well, this was her son, her only child, her last connection to Aaron. She couldn’t lose him. But as long as someone was trying to kill her, she would be distracted from Cody’s needs, always wondering when Jackson Cole’s lackey would pop up again.
It wasn’t fair.
None of this was fair.
She grabbed for a tissue from the box sitting on the blue counter but had to physically restrain herself from picking up the whole box and chucking it at the wall.
Dabbing her eyes, she squared her shoulders and tried to keep her focus squarely on Cody’s care. “What can we do?”
“I want you to talk with the transplant coordinator again. You know Denise Engle.” It wasn’t really a question, but Kristi nodded all the same. “Just make sure that you have everything in place if a match becomes available.”
