by Jo Davis
Her brother half jogged toward the pair of men bent on destroying each other, yelling for Prescott to give up. Prescott had Tommy pinned on his back and Shea froze, phone in hand, as he angled the muzzle under Tommy’s chin.
Tommy got his legs underneath Forrest, and with one powerful shove, flipped the man over his head.
And over the ledge.
But Forrest still had a solid hold on Tommy’s good arm, and his momentum nearly pulled Tommy off the edge with him.
Tommy’s yell of pain echoed over the river. “Ahhh! Fuck!” He flipped onto his stomach, trying to crawl backward, his entire arm hanging over the edge. “Shane!”
He was losing ground, slipping.
Shea tossed her phone at Will. “You make the call,” she said over her shoulder, and sprinted after Shane.
Her brother threw himself across Tommy’s legs just in time to halt his sliding. Shea knelt next to him and clutched a fistful of his shirt, peering over the edge to where Forrest dangled over open space.
Incredibly, his face was full of hatred, and he seemed focused only on directing that rage at Tommy, no matter the cost to himself.
“I can’t . . . hold you . . . much longer,” Tommy rasped. “Drop the gun . . . and grab on.”
“Do as he says,” Shane barked. “Drop it and hold on with both hands. We’ll pull you up.”
Forrest sneered. “I don’t think so. I’m taking you with me to hell.”
With that, he swung up the hand with the gun and pointed it at Tommy’s head.
I’m taking you with me to hell.
Those words burned into Tommy’s brain, along with the sudden, grim reality of being pinned with a gun aimed between his eyes.
Shea screamed.
Without even thinking, he released his hold on the other man. Shook his arm, trying to dislodge a parasite that would take his life.
Suddenly he was jerked backward with violent force so hard that the weight was ripped from his arm. He flipped onto his back and heard the hair-raising scream, down, down.
Until it abruptly ended.
And just as abruptly, he found his arms full of near-hysterical woman. A soft, pretty, curvy woman with big, tear-filled brown eyes who needed major comforting. He could so do that.
“Oh, God, I thought he was going to kill you,” she sobbed. Kisses rained all over his face. And more kisses.
“Had it under control, baby. Solid gold.”
That earned him a little whimper and some tongue, sneaking in there for that life-reaffirming thing that blindsided people after near disaster.
He could do that, too.
A snort came from nearby. Shane. “Under control? You look like something Miss Kitty barfed on Shea’s rug.”
“Dude, whatever.” He eyed Shane’s side, soaked in blood. “You’re the one who went and got yourself shot, charging from the trees like fuckin’ Rambo or some shit.”
“At least I didn’t get nearly yanked off a cliff.”
Shea interrupted. “Will, did you call for the paramedics?”
Jesus, he’d forgotten about Hensley.
“Yes, ma’am.” The guy hung his head, sort of slumped. Whether in shame or from pain, Tommy couldn’t tell.
“Hey, Hensley?”
He looked up, expression haunted. “Yes?”
“You made the right choice. Your grandpa will be proud.”
That seemed to brighten him some. “You think so?”
“I know so.” He did, too. After the Feds got done with Will, he might end up getting his act together after all. “And thank you.”
Face pale, Shane gave Tommy a tired half smile. “You did good, too, kid. Real good.”
“Not a kid,” Tommy said. But he smiled. For some reason, it didn’t really bother him anymore.
“I can see that.” Shane’s gray eyes closed. “Good enough for my sister, good enough for me.”
And that made Tommy one lucky boy.
20
Shane was in real trouble.
Even if she weren’t a nurse, Shea would have known her brother needed help, fast. His wisecracking with Tommy had stopped and he was silent. His skin was clammy and he was going into shock.
“Give me your shirt,” she demanded, holding her hand out to Tommy. Quickly, he stripped off the tattered garment and held it out. She balled it up and pressed it into Shane’s side, causing him to groan.
“Fuck, Shea.”
“I’m sorry, Bro. Have to keep the pressure on.” He didn’t answer. “God, where are the paramedics?”
“They’ll have to hike in here the same way we came,” Tommy said, voice laced with concern. “There’s no road.”
Shea grew light-headed, her gaze snapping to his. They both knew that might take too long. “I can’t lose him.”
“You won’t.” Scooting close, he rubbed her back. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Tears coursed down her face. “He’d better not. He’s got decades to be nosy and try to run my life. I won’t be cheated out of a one of them.”
Soon, they heard voices. Lots of them. Paramedics jogged from the trees carrying their equipment, and hot on their heels were the police. One of them was Tommy’s friend Daisy Callahan. Shea hadn’t spared a thought for her since the wedding.
Shea also didn’t miss how the woman dropped to her knees by Shane’s side, face anguished, and touched his hair before she realized what she was doing. She snatched her hand away and nodded to Shea.
“He’ll be fine. He has to be.”
Shea filed that away for future reference. Right now, all that mattered was getting help.
The paramedics nudged them all aside and began to work on Shane. She couldn’t hear everything they said, but she heard enough to know the bullet that struck his side hadn’t hit anything vital, but he’d lost too much blood and his pressure was taking a nosedive.
They ran an IV, placed a pressure bandage on his abdomen, and moved him to a backboard. She watched the process in a daze, the thought running through her head that, after all of this, she could lose him. Shane could die.
The paramedics bore him away and when she and Tommy would have followed, the police waylaid them with endless questions about what was going on. Evidently, these guys weren’t in the loop, so the explanation took a while. The fact that she was Shane’s sister, however, smoothed the way some.
Shea caught sight of an impressive-looking man in a suit. He had two other equally important-looking men with him who spoke to the police, and Will Hensley was immediately borne away by another pair of paramedics, the men in suits following them.
One of the uniformed men approached her and Tommy. “Miss Ford, Mr. Skyler, you two are free to go. Mr. Skyler might want to get checked out at the hospital as well.”
“He will. We’re going there now, as soon as we get back to my brother’s car.”
“I hope Shane’s okay,” the cop said. “He’s a stand-up guy.”
“Thank you.”
“Come on, baby. I’ll drive.”
She shook her head as they began the trek back through the woods. “You’re scratched up, and you were in an accident. I don’t want you passing out behind the wheel.”
“Um, it wasn’t an accident, really. I drove into the gulley on purpose.”
Her mouth fell open. “You idiot. You could have killed yourself.”
“Would’ve been better than whatever Prescott had planned, honey.”
“Jesus.” She couldn’t think anymore. And they still had a long night ahead.
At the hospital, Tommy didn’t have to wait long to be seen by a doctor—one good perk about being a nurse there and most everyone knowing her.
He sat on a gurney in one of the exam rooms, enduring the checking of his vitals and reflexes, all of the poking and prodding, without a complaint. And what was there to fuss about, really? He was alive.
She was so very grateful he was essentially unharmed, but fear for Shane wouldn’t let her rest. When Tommy was dismissed, th
ey sat huddled in the ER’s waiting area, anxious for word. They’d taken Shane to surgery right off, so it should be anytime now. What was taking so long?
When the surgeon came out the doors wearing his scrubs and a tired smile, her knees went weak. She hadn’t even realized she’d bolted to her feet and was squeezing Tommy’s hand as though it were a life preserver.
“You’re Shane Ford’s sister?”
“Y-yes. How is he?”
“Your brother is going to be fine.”
“Oh.” Tommy had to help her into a chair. “Oh, thank God.”
Her worst fear had not come to pass. Her brother was going to be okay.
“We had to give him two units of blood, and he gave us a bit of a scare at one point, but he came through like a champ. He’ll need plenty of rest, but I’d say he’ll be up and around, going home in a week or so. Back at work in two, if he behaves.”
“We’ll make sure he does—count on it.” She sent the doc a watery smile.
“Good to know he’s got such a great sister on his side,” he said kindly. “He’ll be taken to the recovery room in a few minutes. You can stay for about five minutes, just to reassure yourself he’s okay, but he won’t know you’re there. Go home after that, get some rest, and come back tomorrow. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
As he walked away, Tommy hugged her. “He’s fine, baby.”
“I know.” But there was a horrible, tight bubble in her chest. A pressure that needed to be eased.
Seeing Shane in recovery didn’t help. If anything, the pressure got worse, which didn’t make sense. His vitals were strong, and he was resting. She stroked his sable hair for a few minutes, kissed his cheek.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.”
When they left, Shea was surprised to find that it was almost one in the morning. Hospitals seemed to create some sort of weird time warp when you were there for an emergency, on pins and needles for endless hours. Then it’s as if the clock got wound forward when nobody was looking.
When she let them in her apartment, they were met by Miss Kitty, screeching unhappily about her missed dinner.
“Poor sweetie.” She fed the cat and washed her hands, then held her arms out to Tommy. “Take me to bed.”
“With pleasure.”
She would’ve thought they’d be too exhausted to make love, but that was the funny thing about near-death encounters. They made a person want to feel more alive, to be held and touched. Or so she’d heard.
Seems they were right.
Neither said a word, just undressed. He simply pressed her down, covered her like a warm blanket. Slid his tongue into her mouth and his cock into her sheath, and she accepted their joining for a beautiful gift. They were here, together, and nothing would ever part them again.
It was so big. More than sexual.
This was what love between a man and a woman should be.
She sobbed as their climax shattered together, cried as she held him to her breast.
The horrible bubble in her chest was gone.
Shea sat next to her brother’s hospital bed, Tommy standing behind her kneading one shoulder. Since yesterday’s nightmare—which, admittedly, could have turned out much worse—he touched her constantly.
“Shouldn’t he be awake?” She chewed her lip, anxious. “He never sleeps like this.”
“He’s never been shot before and had surgery, either, right? He’ll be fine, baby.”
“I hope so. He’s my only family.”
“I’m your family, too. Or I’d like to be,” he said softly.
Reaching up, she curled her fingers around his. Was that a hint? She was holding out for a real proposal. “Of course you are. You know what I mean.”
“I do, cutie.”
Shane’s lashes fluttered, and his eyes opened. “Hey, you guys.”
“Shane! I thought you’d never wake up.” Bending, she kissed his cheek and cupped his shadowed jaw. Relief washed over her like a tide.
“Woke up earlier for a bit. You weren’t here. Been trying to wake up again for a while now, but I feel like I’m wrapped in cotton.”
“Are you hurting anywhere?”
“My side is complaining some,” he admitted. Which must mean it was killing him, because Shane never said a word, even when he was sick with a fever.
“This button here will give you a shot of pain medicine through your IV every few hours,” Tommy said, holding it up. “Want a hit?”
“Please.” He smiled as Tommy did the deed. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Anything for the guy who saved my ass.”
“Ho, now. Anything is a big word. Make sure you’re that grateful before throwing it around.”
“Okay, almost anything. For example, if you wanted me to give you a sponge bath? I’d have to take a pass.”
Shane chuckled and then hissed in a sharp breath. “Don’t make me laugh. And I’ve got a couple of sweet nurses here to take care of my person, thanks.”
“Good to know. So do I—just one, though.”
Shea craned her neck to look up at Tommy and he waggled his brows suggestively. “Boys are all alike,” she said, facing her brother again. “Always thinking with the little head.”
Shane sent her a droll stare. “There’s more to life and someone didn’t send me the memo?”
“Apparently not, brother dear.” She knew he was teasing. The man worked way too hard and didn’t take enough time for himself. Maybe this would force him to slow down some, enjoy a couple of weeks off, at least.
“Excuse me,” a deep, masculine voice said. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
All of them looked toward the door, Shea in surprise because she hadn’t heard anyone come in.
Holy cow! She was totally in love with her man, but she wasn’t dead. The big man standing there was dressed in an expensive suit that clung to broad, powerful shoulders. His jet-black hair was styled in layers, just covering his ears, and his eyes were a startling blue that missed nothing. He looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of GQ, but for all that, he struck her as no pretty boy.
“Dangerous” was the word that came to mind.
Shane tried to sit up some and winced. “Nick, come in. Guys, this is Special Agent Dominic Westfall. Sis, he’s the agent I was telling you about.”
“Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Shea Ford. I saw you at the scene last night, but in the chaos and with getting my two men here to the ER, we didn’t get to speak.”
“Nice to meet you, Shea.” His gaze roamed her face in appreciation, but when his attention turned to Tommy, he dropped her hand. “You, too . . .”
“Tommy Skyler, Agent Westfall.” His tone was polite, but a little stiff.
“Just Nick.” They shared an awkward left-handed grip and Nick smiled. A beautiful smile indeed. He turned the conversation back to Shane. “Came to check on you, give you an update before I head back to Virginia. I know you’re not yet involved in an official capacity, but I knew you’d be curious about the outcome.”
“I appreciate that.” Shane’s brows drew together. “What do you mean yet?”
“I told you, this insurance scam had deep roots. The money was being funneled to an antigovernment group. Real bunch of nut jobs, but they’re organized and that makes them even more dangerous. We’ve been watching them for a while, put an agent in undercover, and they killed him. We know for a fact that Prescott wasn’t their only source. The question is, what are they accumulating such massive funding for? Their tie to Sugarland is disturbing, and if they plan to come here—” He broke off and shook his head, pursing his lips as though he’d said too much.
“Why does that part bother you? What on earth would they want with a nice community like ours? We’re close to Nashville, which is the state capital, but we’re not exactly a teeming metropolis.” Shane appeared perplexed.
Nick’s laugh was ominous. “If I told you
what they might want, I’d have to kill you.”
Shea blinked at the agent. He hadn’t really sounded like he was kidding.
“Suffice it to say, the FBI is sticking to them. We want every possible witness who has any tie to this group kept safe and under wraps.”
“Including Will Hensley?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah, that’s why I came by. Will and Joseph Hensley have been taken into protective custody, and Will is being treated for the gunshot wound to his shoulder. Eventually, for Will’s cooperation and hopefully his testimony, they’ll be given new identities and a fresh start.”
“I guess it worked out for the best, then,” Shea said. Still, she felt strangely melancholy on Will’s account. She’d barely met the man. Maybe it was knowing what Forrest put him through, and then seeing him make a stand, trying to save Tommy’s life.
Yes, that was it. She’d never gotten to thank Will Hensley for creating that split-second diversion when Forrest would have shot Tommy. Now she’d never have the opportunity.
“Damn, I wish I could’ve spoken to Joseph before they left,” Tommy said wistfully. “That old man is pretty cool.”
“Yes, he is. I’ve known Joseph for a long time. One more thing.” Nick reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small manila envelope. “I want all of you to study this picture. Memorize it.”
The pic was handed around, everybody doing as he asked. When the photo was handed to Shea, she saw it was a close-up of a man striding down a street. He was tall, built hard, all lean muscle. His hair was dirty blond, shoulder-length, tied back with something to reveal a sharp, angular face. He had a rose tattoo on his neck.
“Keep it,” Nick said. “I’ve got plenty of copies, and so does your police chief. If you see this man, or anyone you think could be this man, call me. No matter what time it is, day or night, no matter what you’re doing. Here’s my card, too, in case you need another one.”
Shane took both the picture and the business card, and looked at the photo again. “Who is he?”
“That’s the devil in the flesh. His name is Jesse Rose and he’s the late Forrest Prescott’s contact. Rose is the leader of the group we’re after, and a more evil man never drew a breath. He likes keeping his finger on the pulse of things, so to speak. He’s a hands-on leader, so if you see him, something is going to go down.”
