by Laura Scott
No way could he afford to repeat the mistakes of his past.
“Shane?” Gabby said his name in a low, hesitant tone. “Is something wrong?”
He forced himself to smile. “Nothing is wrong, Gabby,” he said huskily. “I’m happy that you’ve begun to put your fears behind you. I hate that you had to suffer at a man’s hands in the first place.” If the statute of limitations hadn’t run out, he’d head out to arrest the guy.
Gabby’s own smile dimmed and he caught a glimpse of disappointment reflected in her eyes.
He sighed and reached over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Gabby, we’ve been thrown together in the heat of danger, and it’s not unusual for emotions to become more intense in these types of situations. I care about you, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. But right now, we can’t afford to lose focus regarding the fact that someone is still trying to get to you.”
Her gaze clung to his for a long moment before she nodded and drew away, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest. The moment she released him, he balled his fingers into fists so he wouldn’t reach out and pull her close again.
He missed the warmth of her sweet embrace.
“I guess we should head back to the motel,” she said, changing the subject.
From their position under the tree, he could see that the area around the church had thinned dramatically. Most of the parishioners had left or were walking toward their cars. “Sure, we’ll go there now,” he agreed.
“Tell me about Linda,” Gabby said as they strolled casually along the road in the direction of the church, since the motel was just a mile farther. “How did you meet her?”
He wasn’t sure why she was suddenly curious about his former fiancée, but since she’d been honest with him, he owed her the same frankness. “We worked together, she was a cop within my district.”
“A cop?” She glanced up at him in surprise. “Were you partners?”
“No, not partners. But she was in a tough situation, her ex-boyfriend had a temper and had hit her a few times. She discovered he was stalking her, so I helped her put together a case against him.”
“I see,” Gabby murmured. “That explains it,” she added.
He frowned. “Explains what?”
“Why you think that the feelings that are building between us aren’t real,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “You rescued her, and she began to lean on you. But in the end, her feelings weren’t real, they were a result of a heightened awareness that comes from being in danger.”
Shane shouldn’t have been surprised by her astute insight to his failed relationship. “Yes,” he admitted quietly.
“And now you think I’m doing the same thing your ex-fiancée did,” she went on.
He hesitated, not sure how to respond to that. He didn’t think she was doing the same thing—he was absolutely certain she was.
But Gabby didn’t realize that’s what she was doing. Not yet. The same way Linda hadn’t, until she began to fall in love for real.
“Not exactly,” he said, choosing his words carefully. His phone rang, saving him from needing to come up with some way to smooth things over. He pulled out his phone, tipping the screen so Gabby could see Nate’s name across the top. “Hey, Nate, what’s up?”
“Chicago PD called to let us know they believe Eric Ambrose is in the area,” Nate said. “Unfortunately, they lost him, but hopefully they’ll find him soon.”
“How could they lose him?” Shane asked in exasperation.
“I know, but the cop who was driving past Joe Chasco’s place called in Ambrose’s license plates, but before he could stop, he was notified about a shooting located a few miles away, so he had to leave.”
“So Ambrose did go to Chicago to be with Chasco,” Shane muttered, glancing at Gabby, who was listening intently. “Our instincts were right on.”
“Yeah, it would be nice to have a break in the case,” Nate agreed. “I’ll keep in touch.”
“Thanks.” Shane disconnected from the call and then glanced down at his phone, making a mental note to swap it out as soon as possible. Just in case whoever this Creighton guy was had the ability to track his cell phone.
“I can’t believe Eric is really in Chicago,” Gabby croaked. “Even though I knew that he was a suspect, deep down I didn’t really believe it.”
“I’m sorry, Gabby,” he said, picking up his pace. Knowing Ambrose was nearby was enough to make him want to get her back to the relative safety of the motel. He also took the battery out of his phone as an extra precaution, tucking it in the back pocket of his jeans.
“You and me, both,” Gabby said with a grimace. “I hope Eric comes to his senses, before it’s too late.”
Grimacing, Shane slid a glance her way. The sooner they managed to get Ambrose into custody, the better. Because as much as he knew that Gabby’s feelings toward him were heightened by the very real danger she faced, he couldn’t necessarily say the same thing about his feelings for her.
Despite not wanting to make the same mistakes he’d made with Linda, he was very afraid it was too late. He cared about Gabby—too much for his peace of mind.
* * *
Gabby tried to hide her disappointment as she walked beside Shane up to their motel room. The kiss they’d shared, being held in his arms, had been amazing.
Shane could tell himself that her feelings weren’t real, but she knew the truth. She cared about him.
A lot.
When he put a hand on her arm, preventing her from unlocking her motel room door, she looked up at him in surprise.
“Me first,” he said. “Just to be safe.”
She stared at him, wondering if he really believed that Creighton or Ambrose had found them there. Or maybe he was trying to remind her that he was there only for her protection, nothing more. Feeling oddly bereft, she handed him the key and moved off to the side. Shane used her key to open the door. He pushed the door open with his foot, keeping his hands free even though he wasn’t armed, since he obviously hadn’t carried his weapon with him to church.
She peered inside, seeing for herself the room was empty. He cautiously stepped inside and made his way to the tiny bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned and then went through the connecting door between their rooms.
Less than two minutes later, he returned to the doorway. “All clear,” he said as he hooked his gun holster onto his belt.
Gabby nodded, wondering just what he had expected. “I’d like to call the hospital now, to check on Brandon’s condition,” she murmured. “Is it safe to use this phone here?”
Shane hesitated but then nodded. “I would think so... I can’t imagine Creighton has access to your hospital phone records.”
“Good.” She used the phone to make the local call, relieved when the ER nurse reassured her that Brandon was fine.
“He’s awake, has a minor concussion but otherwise seems to be okay,” the nurse assured her. “They’re talking about keeping him overnight for observation.”
For a moment, the image of Richard flashed into her mind. “Who’s the attending on duty?” she asked abruptly.
“Dr. Sebastian, why?”
“I need to talk to him right away,” she said, not bothering to hide the urgency in her tone.
“Okay.” After a few moments of silence, she could hear Sebastian’s deep baritone over the line.
“Gabby? What’s wrong?”
“How bad is Brandon’s concussion?” she asked. “Does he really need to stay overnight?”
“His CT scan is normal. I was thinking of sending him home, but apparently his wife is out of town, so there isn’t anyone to watch over him.”
Gabby closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen, I’m worried that whoever hit Brandon in the first place might try to come after him again. If he has to stay, do me a favor and put him under an alias name. Just in case.”
“Gabby, what’s going on?” Sebastian deman
ded. “First, you’re suddenly on a leave of absence, and now someone intentionally hurt Brandon?”
“I know it’s my fault—I’m sorry. Please use the alias name, all right?”
“I will,” Sebastian replied grudgingly.
Gabby hung up the phone and turned to see Shane standing close behind her. The urge to throw herself into his arms was overwhelming.
“Alias name?” he repeated with admiration in his tone. “Wow, that’s brilliant. I’m sure that will keep him safe.”
Gabby bit her lower lip. “I should have requested that for Richard,” she said in a low voice.
“There’s no reason to think your stepfather’s death was the result of foul play,” Shane said firmly. “Didn’t that doctor friend of yours mention a blood clot?”
She nodded since he was right about Bill’s theory.
“All right then, stop beating yourself up over this.”
“I’ll try.” She glanced around the motel room with a sense of helpless frustration. “So now what? I need something to do or I’ll go crazy.”
“I know what you mean,” Shane said wryly. “What if we go for a drive? I’ve been thinking we should pick up a few burner cell phones to use.”
Burner phones? For a moment the conversation seemed surreal. She didn’t live in this world of looking for bad guys around every corner, using cash and burner phones to hide their electronic trail.
Was Shane right about situations like these causing intense emotions? Feelings that might not last?
She didn’t want to admit it, but he was probably right. Her world had been knocked off-kilter from the moment those men had taken her hostage at gunpoint.
Since he was watching her intently, waiting for a response to his question, she nodded. “Sure, why not? Anything to get out of this motel room for a while.”
She followed Shane out into the bright sunlight as they walked to Nate’s aunt’s car.
He stayed on the side roads as he drove to a well-known big-box store. She was oddly surprised that purchasing the two disposable phones didn’t take long, and soon they were back on the road.
“Here, we’re going to need my phone to get those activated,” Shane said, handing her his cell phone. She put the battery back in and waited a few minutes for the device to power up.
Before she could use it, though, it rang, displaying Nate’s name and number across the screen. Shane was driving, so she answered. “Yes?”
“Gabby? Where’s Shane?”
“Hang on, he’s right here.” She handed the phone to Shane. “It’s Nate.”
“Put it on speaker,” Shane instructed.
She did as he asked and held the phone between them.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” Nate accused. “We have a lead on Ambrose.”
“I had the phone off,” Shane admitted. “Where is he? Does the Chicago PD have him in custody?”
“No, but he crossed the Wisconsin-Illinois border roughly thirty minutes ago,” the other man said. “State Patrol caught his license and tried to pull him over, but so far he’s leading them on a high-speed chase.”
Gabby gasped at the news. “Why would he do that?” she asked. “He has to know they’ll catch him eventually.”
“No clue, unless he’s feeling desperate,” Nate said grimly. “He may figure he has nothing else to lose.”
She could barely fathom the idea of the Eric Ambrose she knew giving up. Her former colleague had been cold and calculating, deliberate in his attempts to discredit her.
Although everyone had a breaking point. With the pending litigation and subsequent leave of absence, it was possible Eric was feeling desperate.
“Where is he now?” Shane asked.
“Not sure. They were heading north on Interstate 43 last I heard. Where are you?”
“We’re about ten miles from the motel,” he answered. “But I think we’ll head over to the interstate.”
“Don’t interfere,” Nate warned him. “They’ll get him in custody soon, one way or the other.”
“Yeah, I know,” Shane agreed.
Gabby was very much afraid she knew exactly what that meant. During the course of her career she’d taken care of many trauma patients involved in high-speed crashes. The worst ones were drivers who had drugs or alcohol on board.
Was Eric impaired in some way? Was that contributing to his irrational behavior? Nothing else made sense.
“Head back toward the motel,” Nate urged. “There’s nothing you can do until they’ve arrested him.”
“Okay, keep me posted,” Shane said.
Gabby disconnected from the call and then reached out to put her hand on his arm. “Can’t we head over in that direction?” she asked. “What if Eric hits some innocent bystander? At least I can help provide medical care.”
Shane hesitated and she could tell he wanted to head toward the interstate, too. But then he shook his head. “I can’t risk your safety, Gabby. I’m sure there are fire trucks trailing the State Police for just that reason.”
Gabby sat back in her seat with a frustrated sigh. She really, really wanted to come face-to-face with Eric, to confront him with everything that had happened. Now that they knew he was here in the area for sure, it seemed likely that he was responsible for the kidnapping, breaking into her house, the assault on Richard, and for attacking Royce in her old call room.
She thought about the notes she had locked away in her bank’s safe-deposit box. Notes that she’d all but forgotten about until this nightmare started.
The sound of a chopper flying overhead interrupted her thoughts. Peering through the window, she frowned when she realized it wasn’t the distinctive blue-and-orange LifeLine helicopter.
“It’s a police chopper,” Shane said as it passed them by. “That doesn’t sound good, Ambrose must still be on the move.”
Gabby’s stomach clenched and she closed her eyes to pray for the safety of the officers, the innocent people on the road and even for Eric Ambrose.
Dear Lord, please keep everyone safe in Your care.
The tension eased and she glanced over at Shane. “We can’t just go back to our motel.”
“I know, I feel the same way. I’ll head west but will stay on the highways, avoiding the interstate.”
Gabby nodded in relief, because even though she couldn’t help feeling her skills might be needed if someone got hurt, she didn’t want to interfere in the police chase. And she took comfort in the fact that if Eric was indeed responsible for the danger surrounding her, then it would soon be over.
Which meant she wouldn’t need to be stuck to Shane like a burr.
Her stomach twisted again and she tried to focus on the police helicopter hovering overhead.
“Shane? Does the interstate go over this highway?”
Before he could respond, she saw a low-slung black sports car come racing over the bridge ahead, several police cars with their swirling lights and screeching sirens close behind.
There was a large truck hugging the left side of the road, trying to get out of the way, but not far enough. The front bumper of the black sports car clipped the van and spun wildly, with tires squealing.
As if the watching an action movie in slow motion, she saw the sports car flip over the guardrail and land on its roof on the highway below.
“Pull over, pull over!” Gabby cried, fumbling for the door handle. She could hardly believe what she was seeing, her worst fears coming true.
“Wait for me,” Shane ordered, jerking the car off onto the shoulder and stopping abruptly.
Gabby already had her door open and was running toward the upside-down car, her heart in her throat. No matter how she felt about Eric on a personal level, she couldn’t deny him the medical assistance he deserved.
She could feel Shane beside her when she reached the car. Dropping down, she peered through the broken driver’s-side window, half afraid of what she’d find.
The driver was belted in, hanging upside down. Shane pul
led out a knife to cut through the seat belt. Between the two of them, they tugged the driver to safety.
But it wasn’t Eric Ambrose. The driver of Eric’s car was Joe Chasco.
A shiver crept down Gabby’s spine as she reached out to check Joe’s pulse. When it was absent, she quickly began CPR. She had no idea why Joe was driving Eric’s car, but she was disturbed to know that Eric was still out there. Somewhere.
Maybe even watching them.
THIRTEEN
Shane knelt beside Gabby, intending to help her do CPR, but before he could take his turn at performing chest compressions, the paramedic team arrived.
Three firefighters gently but firmly eased Gabby out of the way, reassuring her that they could take it from here.
“I’m a trauma surgeon at Trinity Medical Center,” she protested. But the firefighters didn’t budge, obviously too intent on their patient.
Shane took her arm, drawing her off to the side. “They know what they’re doing, Gabby. And as talented as you are, even you can’t do surgery out here.”
“I know, I know,” she muttered, pushing her hair away from her face. She turned to face him, her expression serious. “Shane, that’s not Eric Ambrose. It’s Joe Chasco.”
“What?” Since he’d only seen grainy driver’s license photos, he hadn’t noticed the difference. But now every one of his instincts went on red alert. He quickly put his arm around Gabby’s slender frame, sweeping his gaze over the area that was fast filling up with police and other emergency vehicles. “We need to get out of here. And I’m calling Nate to fill him in on what’s going on.”
She nodded, clinging to his side and walking along as if she was on pins and needles about what this switcheroo meant. Shane kept his arm around her as they headed back to the sedan. He started the car and then backed away from the emergency vehicles that had partly blocked them in.
“Here,” Gabby said, holding out the phone with Nate’s name on the screen. “It’s on speaker.”
He was continuously impressed with her ability to remain calm in a crisis, and it occurred to him that while she clearly wasn’t a cop, she often thought like one. She was a great partner.
