by Misty Evans
Shelby started to hand it to him when Theo snatched it away. “This is evidence.”
Zeb gave Theo a hard stare. “What exactly were the charges again?” Zeb asked. “I don’t believe anyone ever stated them.”
In the background, Shelby noticed Nickelback talking to someone on the phone.
Theo rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Bells set off a bomb that nearly killed a federal officer. He’s a leading suspect in a previous shooting and the murders of three men. Don’t worry, I have plenty of charges to bring against him.”
“Oh, Theo.” He’d completely gone off the deep end with this. Maybe Colton was right about him having a crush on her. Maybe he was jealous of Colton. “Colton would never hurt me. If you don’t believe he’s innocent of anything else, you have to believe that.”
Her boss cupped her elbow. “I need to get you out of here and to the safe house.”
She jerked out of his grip. “I’m not leaving.”
Nickelback pocketed his phone and came forward to murmur, “It’s taken care of,” in Zeb’s ear. The older man nodded.
“Special Agent Shelby Claiborne is now officially a client of Rock Star Security, sir.” Zeb looked like a kid at Christmas, a huge grin on his face. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to move away from her.”
Theo, affronted, puffed up his chest. “I will not. She’s my agent. I’m taking her somewhere safe.”
Salisbury growled at Theo and Jaya tightened her hold on Shelby’s waist. “My girl doesn’t want to go to a safe house, and Colton may be a loser, but he’s her loser. She loves him and she’s right when she says he would never hurt her. Break her heart, yes, but physically hurt her? Never. So back the fuck off.”
Zeb, Connor, and Nickelback closed ranks around Jaya and Shelby. A deep red flush rose up Theo’s neck. “I can’t allow this.”
From behind her, Shelby heard her father’s booming voice. “No one is making my daughter leave this hospital if she doesn’t want to.”
Shelby looked over her shoulder and smiled.
Along with her dad, everyone else from the conference room stood behind him—her mom, Daniel, and all the parishioners.
They made a formidable lineup.
“Mister Claiborne,” Theo started to argue.
“Reverend to you, son,” her dad interrupted. He winked at Shelby.
Theo’s jaw worked. He was struggling to remain composed. “You don’t understand the seriousness of this situation.”
“What I understand is that my daughter is staying here for as long as she wants, and we will stay with her to ensure her safety. You can leave your law enforcement peers”—he pointed at the cops still hanging around—“to keep an eye on Colton if that makes you feel better, but I don’t believe that young man is going anywhere soon. So I suggest you get yourself back to Good Hope and figure out who in the world did this to Shelby and her friends.”
Good ol’ Daddy. He could be a bear at times, but just like Colton, he hated it when anyone else tried to push her around.
Shelby looked at Theo while twisting Colton’s ring around her thumb. “Please, Theo. Do as he says. You and I both know that Colton didn’t set off that bomb or kill those men. I can’t track the killer down, but you can.”
Appealing to his sense of justice caused him to pause. Denbe stepped forward and nodded at Theo. “Come on, boss. Let’s go do our job.”
Theo’s nostrils flared. A nerve above his left eye twitched.
Contempt. Anger. Frustration.
And something else she couldn’t put her finger on, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
Shelby tried to freeze the image, but he was already moving away. Denbe gave Shelby a nod and motioned for the cops to follow them. As they passed through the group of parishioners, who parted like the Red Sea, Jocelyn waved at Shelby and joined them.
Once they were all gone, her father came over and Shelby’s bodyguards allowed him into the circle. He hugged Shelby, patting her back. “You all right, sweetheart?”
Not really. She wouldn’t be until Colton and Sabrina were both out of surgery. “Yes, Daddy. Thank you.”
“Nobody makes my little girl cry and gets away with it. Why don’t you and your friends come back downstairs while we wait? I’m going to take folks to the chapel and lead the group in prayer.”
A nurse came around the corner and scanned the crowd. “Connor McKenzie?”
Connor left Shelby’s side. “That’s me.”
“The doctor said you can see your girlfriend now.”
Connor glanced back at Shelby. She waved at him to follow the nurse. “Go.”
He gave her a thankful smile and took off.
“I’m going to stay here, Daddy,” Shelby twisted the ring on her thumb again. “I couldn’t be there for Colton last time. I’m not leaving his side now.”
Her father nodded, but she could see disappointment on his face. Colton had broken her heart, like Jaya had said, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like Colton.
Maybe because her dad saw a bit of himself in her renegade ex.
Although no one would ever guess it, her father was one at heart. He loved the underdog. His favorite Bible story had always been David and Goliath.
A firm hand squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll be downstairs,” her dad said, “and I’ll check on you in a few minutes.”
“I can stay,” her mother offered, coming up beside her.
Shelby took her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Momma, but I’ve got plenty of support and the waiting room isn’t big enough for everyone. You go downstairs with Daddy. I’ll call if I need you.”
Her mother kissed her cheek. Her dad hugged her. She watched them leave, waving at several people who gave her smiles and thumbs-up of encouragement, including Daniel.
Apparently, he’d made it back already.
Zeb, Nickelback, and Jaya were left standing with her. As soon as the last of the parishioners were gone, Shelby turned to her much smaller group.
“Zeb, do you think Connor’s okay taking care of himself and guarding Sabrina? Or do they need an extra bodyguard?”
Jaya’s eyes widened. “You think the killer is here? That he’ll go after them?”
“I’m not taking chances.”
Zeb nodded. “You’re all vulnerable at the moment.”
Shelby wanted to lie down and have a good cry. She wasn’t sure how much more she could handle.
But she couldn’t dissolve into a puddle, focusing on the worst that could happen to Colton and the others. She was all they had right now and she had to stay strong.
“Zeb, you’re on Colton duty. He may be in surgery, but I want you to stick to him like glue. I don’t care if you have to put scrubs on and pretend you’re a nurse, you don’t let him out of your sight.”
Zeb grinned. “I can handle it.”
“The hell you can, old man.” A strident voice brought all of their heads around. A big guy the size of her dad came strolling up to them, reaching out to shake Shelby’s hand. “Call me Megadeth. I’m a friend of Colt’s. He helped save a very important person in my life and take down two terrorists. I owe him.”
His handshake nearly broke bones in her hand. “You’re with Rock Star Security, I take it?”
He gave her a nod. “I’m the staff doctor. Finishing up my residency. I happened to be in New Orleans for a conference and the boss sent me to evaluate your current physical state after your coma. Looks like Colton needs me worse than you do.”
Nickelback’s lips twitched. “You gonna just bust into the surgical suite and take over?”
The man shrugged as if it were no big deal. “B updated me right before I got here. Said this serial killer of yours is closing in. A lot of things can go wrong in surgery.”
Shelby’s stomach turned over. “Then you better get in there.”
He handed her a heavy cell phone. “Our boss will be calling you on this secure line. The phone is programed with your fingerprint as the passcode,
thanks to our tech specialist. Don’t ask me how he did it, I’m just the messenger. Take the call. Don’t lose the phone.”
He was big, but he moved fast. Before she could respond, he took off for the double doors of the operating rooms.
Zeb started walking too. “Looks like I’m on Connor and Sabrina duty. Nickelback, you stay here with the girls.”
Jaya lit up at that. “Megadeth, Nickelback…what is it with you guys and the code names? It’s all so James Bondish.”
The dark, intense stare of the new bodyguard locked on her. “There are people out there who would like to see us dead or at least locked away in a place where we’d never see the sun again. For your protection and ours, we keep our identities a secret.”
If he thought the steely look would make Jaya back down, he was sadly mistaken. She raised her chin and Shelby saw the fascination in her bold return stare. “You don’t look like a Nickelback. More like Enrique Iglesias with, you know, an edgier edge.”
He tried hard not to laugh, but Shelby saw the twitch that told her it was taking everything in him not to engage in this little verbal sparring. He wanted to—boy, did he—but he was controlled, careful. “Let’s get you ladies to the waiting room.”
Salisbury wagged at him and Jaya winked at Shelby. She took Shelby’s arm and they started slowly back toward the tiny room.
“You always did love to play with sharks,” Shelby said under her breath.
Jaya laughed softly. “Makes two of us, sister.”
Chapter Eighteen
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SO THEY THOUGHT they could keep him at bay? They were all so self-righteous, so sure of themselves. He was going to teach them.
The man shook with indignation, his hands tight on the steering wheel of his car. They had no idea who they were dealing with.
Classic serial killer psychosis. He laughed at the irony.
Him, a serial killer. Who would believe it?
But he didn’t get off on the killings. Not in the way most serial killers did. They were only part of seeing justice carried out.
He’d set that bomb, tried to kill them all. It had been the safest way, regardless of his desire to make Colton Bells suffer slowly. When he’d walked in to Shelby’s house to plant the cell phone, they all should have been dead or close enough.
Yet, they’d been alive.
Every one of them.
He’d failed.
But not for long.
They still had no idea who he was or what he was capable of. He needed a new plan. Luckily for him, having grown up in a military family, he was no stranger to changing plans on a dime.
Refine, reorder, rework. He’d gotten where he was by knowing how to play the game. To make people believe he was a good guy.
Instead of taking them out all at once, he’d have to do things in a more controlled way. More detailed.
He was good at details.
Like sniping three men and getting away with it.
Right now, Shelby had too many people around her. Bells was in surgery. How could he get to them without getting caught?
Patience. He couldn’t blow this when he was so close to finally getting revenge for Peter.
If Shelby had only realized what a loser Bells was. If she had accepted that her ex-husband was guilty of murder—regardless of whose—and had let the cops arrest Bells, he could have let her live.
But she was as stubborn now as ever. Probably felt like she owed Bells after what he’d done for her, covering for her, taking the blame for that night.
Bells had played the hero, hiding her little secret, but he was still a murderer. How could she defend him?
The idea of letting her report resurface to the powers that be tickled the back of his mind. It would show everyone that she and Bells had covered up what happened.
It would also make Bells that much more of a hero in some people’s eyes.
The man couldn’t let that happen.
Bells should have died in Baghdad. Should have died in this latest bomb explosion at Shelby’s house.
Instead, the bastard still walked the earth while dozens of men who deserved to live were buried six feet under.
No more. If Bells survived the surgery, he still wasn’t long for this earth.
The man pulled a .300 Winchester Magnum from his pocket, turning the cool metal bullet over and over in his fingers.
This one had Bells’ name on it.
Another in his pocket had Shelby’s.
The only thing he had to do now was get them both out of the hospital. McKenzie too, if possible.
Patience.
Refine, reorder, rework.
A new idea struck. Maybe killing Shelby would be enough. Bells still loved her. He’d run back to her not once, but twice. It was obvious he would do anything for her.
Killing Shelby would leave Bells on his own. Tortured. He’d die a long, slow, miserable death blaming himself.
True happiness made the man smile. He’d been going at this all wrong. Leaving Bells alive to wallow in his grief would be the finest form of revenge.
Justice for all.
The new plan forming readily in his mind, the man put his car in gear.
It was a waste of a good woman, but Shelby Claiborne had to die.
COLTON’S MIND WAS soup, a pleasant fog that caressed him, lifting him up and rolling him back down like an ocean wave.
Dreams floated with him. Snatches of memories. Desert sand, moonless nights. His marriage bed.
A sweet numbness engulfed his body, but the sting of pain hummed just under it. Don’t wake up, his dull mind insisted. Let the drugs do their work.
Drugs. Yeah. This was definitely not his normal alcohol-fueled, mindless, anesthetized state. But when had he resorted to drugs to escape?
His dragon laughed.
Forget…
For long moments he let the desensitized state have him. It was so peaceful. No one criticized him. No one looked at him like he was a loser. Like he was a pain-in-the-ass.
No mother to abandon him. No father to leave him at the orphanage.
No…
Shelby.
Through the fog, he heard rhythmic beeping, the ring of a phone.
Shelby’s voice.
“Yes, ma’am, it’s nice to finally speak to you. Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me with my case. Colton is out of surgery and Megadeth says he’ll be okay.” Long pause. “Yes, I know. He’s a fighter.”
Surgery. Megadeth.
Where was he? Why was Jaxon here?
A tumble of images hit his brain. Connor, the waiting room.
The cops.
Trust me…
His face hitting the floor.
Then nothing until he’d surfaced for a moment to be blinded by bright lights overhead. Masked faces told him he was going to be okay. To close his eyes and it would be over before he knew it.
Shit. He’d ended up in surgery all right.
By all that’s holy, tell me they didn’t let Jax operate on me.
Not because Jaxon Sloan wasn’t a true rock star in every sense of the word. He was. The gifted SOB could perform surgery as easily as he shot down a plane full of terrorists. Colton had been there and seen it.
And if Colton had needed surgery, there wasn’t anyone he trusted more to take care of it, but the ribbing he would take from the other guys would be brutal and endless.
He’d owe Jax too.
Colton didn’t like owing anyone anything.
“No, ma’am,” Shelby’s no-nonsense voice brought him back to now. “I don’t know what report you’re referring to.”
Ma’am. Shelby was talking to…
Beatrice.
The thought brought him fully awake, but his eyelids did a dance. Up. Down. Up. Down. He couldn’t seem to keep them open.
Finally locking them at half-mast, he managed to get a look at his new dig
s. The hospital room was various shades of white and off-white. Shelby stood at the window, the setting sun splashing stripes of orange across her face through the blind slats.
Sensations in his body began to register.
And boy, did that suck. Good ol’ pain—a familiar friend—came rushing to the surface, making him grimace.
Shelby’s face screwed up. “A report can’t be filed anonymously. Even if an agent were trying to protect someone, they couldn’t file one without going through proper channels. Procedures have to be followed. Reports have to be signed and dated.”
Colton tried to move his legs, found they were tree stumps. He lifted a hand to rub his face, except he only managed to lift it an inch before it fell back beside him.
Her brows crashed down as she listened. “But once a report is filed, it can’t be deleted from the system. That would take someone high up in the chain of command to do something like that and no one I know would do such a thing. That would be a federal crime.”
Another pause, the faint sound of the voice on the other end.
“Me?” Shelby’s back straightened. “Excuse me, but what exactly does this report say and how in the hell did you get your hands on it?”
Another try at movement and Colton managed to sneak his hand up. He pulled the oxygen tube out of his nose. “Get away from the…window,” he croaked.
Shelby whirled, the consternation on her face lifting slightly at the sight of him. “Look, I don’t know what you’re implying, but we need to continue this conversation later. Colton’s awake. I’ll call you back.”
She hung up, staring at him, and again he registered a war of emotions going on inside her.
“You hung up on Beatrice.” His mouth felt like it was filled with charcoal briquettes and he sounded like he’d smoked a dozen cigars in quick succession. “No one hangs up on her.”
“I just did. She’ll get over it.” She moved toward his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like hell. What happened?”
She sat on the edge and brushed his hair back. “When you hit the cabinet during the bombing, the handle left a nice little impression on your back. Apparently it knocked some of the shrapnel near your spine loose and did internal damage causing your abdomen to fill with blood. You’re lucky you were here at the hospital when you passed out. The emergency surgery saved your life.”
