The EMT mouthed a slow “Wow,” before speaking again. “Blake’s the agent?”
“Yeah.”
Embarrassment rolled through her. Was that what she’d done? Attached herself to Blake? Was that what everyone around them saw? A victim clinging superficially to her hero? She pressed a hand to her stomach, fighting another wave of nausea. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. They’d had a near kiss at the restaurant, and the moment had meant something to her, but maybe that sort of thing was an everyday occurrence for him. She could certainly understand why if it was.
The EMT flashed another light in Marissa’s eyes, and she slapped it away. “Will everyone please stop doing that? It hurts.”
He took her wrist in his fingers and checked his watch. “I’m Henry Garrett,” he said. “I’m the uncle.”
Marissa heaved a long breath. What was with these Garrett men? Was a hero complex in the DNA?
Cole climbed onboard and closed the doors behind him. “Uncle Henry taught me everything I needed to know about basic triage. He’s the reason I pursued medical training in the army.”
Henry strapped a blood pressure cuff on Marissa. “Our family requires a lot of first aid.”
Marissa fixed Cole with a pleading stare. “Please find out why there were gunshots.”
She fought to maintain her composure, no longer caring if everyone in Shadow Point thought she was a needy victim. All that mattered was that Blake was okay, and she needed to know that neither of those bullets had connected with him.
Cole swept his gaze to his uncle before slipping outside and shutting Marissa in.
* * *
THE AMBULANCE DOORS were shut when Blake arrived. Cole slid his phone into his pocket and lifted a palm. “I just called you.”
“I didn’t answer.”
“I know. Why not?” He scowled.
Blake closed the distance between them in a determined stride. “Well?” he demanded, shooting a pointed look at the ambulance and fearing the worst. Why else would she be locked inside while his brother was forced out?
Cole’s stance stiffened. He dropped his hand to his side. “Where’s West?”
Blake reached past him for the ambulance doors. He thumped his palm against the metal. “Open up. This is Federal Agent Garrett.”
Cole grabbed Blake’s arm and jerked. “Where’s West, Blake? Answer me.” His no-nonsense tone implied there might be a fist coming if Blake didn’t comply.
Blake reared to his full height and faced off with his baby brother. What the hell was wrong with him? “West’s at the river. What’s your problem?”
Cole stepped back, clearly relieved. “There were two gunshots and an explosion, man. What the hell do you think is my problem?”
Recognition dawned and Blake clapped a palm on his brother’s shoulder. “West is fine. He’s tracking Nash downstream.” He dropped his hand and raised a humbled brow. “I got free of the blast, but Nash got away. Sorry man. I wasn’t thinking.”
Blake had been so focused on reaching Marissa that he hadn’t considered what those gunshots might have sounded like to Cole. Any other day, Blake would’ve recognized the fear in his eyes and set the facts on the table immediately. He might’ve even given orders on what to do next, but at the moment all he could think about was whether or not Marissa was going to be okay.
Cole stared past Blake, confused. “You lost Nash?”
“Yeah, but I also shot him. I think. I don’t know. He jumped into the river.” Blake thumped the door again. “Open up.”
“Jumped or fell because you shot him?” Cole asked.
The ambulance doors opened, and Blake hoisted himself inside on weakened limbs. “I don’t know. Both, I hope.”
“Me, too,” Cole muttered, closing Blake inside.
Marissa sat on the gurney, an ice pack pressed to her head. Another drooped over her shoulder. His uncle Henry monitored an IV attached to her arm.
“You’re okay?” Blake asked, falling onto the bench against the wall. His knees bumped the gurney and Marissa flinched. “Sorry.”
She batted teary eyes. Her face was splotched and puffy as if she’d been crying. “What happened?”
Blake’s heart broke. He abandoned the bench for a seat beside Marissa on the gurney. He pulled her to her chest and stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry I left you.”
Her arms wound around his middle and his heart swelled at the touch. She buried her face against the curve of his throat and the emotions she’d so carefully hidden from him before flowed freely now. “I thought you were shot,” she cried. “I thought you were blown up. Gone.”
“Shh,” he whispered, cradling her in his arms. “I’m okay. So is West. Verdict is still out on Nash. That was my gun you heard. The explosion was poorly rigged. I got out of the way before I was hurt.” He lifted his face to search for his uncle. “How is she?”
Uncle Henry tipped his head left and right, indicating it was a draw. “It doesn’t look like a concussion and the bruises will fade.” He slid his gaze to a sobbing Marissa, then back to Blake with a sad smile.
Blake understood. The wounds that would take longest to heal were the ones no one could see.
“Did you get him?” Uncle Henry asked. “What did you mean the verdict is still out?”
Blake grimaced. “I tried, but he jumped into the river. West’s tracking him.”
Uncle Henry scooted in Blake’s direction. He opened and closed his hands in the universal sign for gimmee. “Come on. Let me take your vitals and check on those cuts and burns.”
Blake reluctantly stretched one arm in his uncle’s direction for a pulse check and blood pressure cuff.
Someone pounded on the ambulance doors. “It’s Sheriff Garrett, open up.”
Blake jerked his head toward the door.
Uncle Henry waddled to the back, careful not to hit his head on the low ceiling. “All you kids with your titles. Just say, it’s West. It’s Blake. It’s Cole. I know who you are.” He pushed the doors open, and West stared inside.
“How is she?” West asked.
“She’ll be okay,” Uncle Henry answered. “How about the bad guy? Should I call for another bus?”
West shook his head.
“Coroner?”
“Nah. We didn’t find him.”
“So, I missed,” Blake muttered, struggling not to upset Marissa again. Her sobs had finally fallen silent and her breathing returned to a slow and steady pace.
West raised an evidence baggie for Blake to see. There were leaves inside. “I found these on the banks near a patch of rocks and a little vomit.”
Blake took the bag in one hand for closer inspection. “That’s blood.”
“Yep.”
“I hit him.”
Uncle Henry retook his seat beside the gurney and liberated a cell phone from one uniform pocket.
West cocked a hip and cast a goofy look at his uncle. “Did Blake tell you he tripped over a wire roped to some C4?”
Uncle Henry removed the blood pressure cuff and squirted something onto Blake’s bloodied arm. “It’s a wonder you boys haven’t given your mother forty heart attacks by now. Ten for each of ya.”
West rolled his eyes, then refocused on Blake. “The team’s going strong. Your guys brought the lights and I’ve called in some of the best tracking dogs in the county. If the rain holds off, we’ll have him by dawn. I’ll get the leaves to the lab to confirm it’s Nash’s blood after the dogs get here. I’m going to stick around and direct the teams as they arrive. If you want to head back to the hotel with Marissa, we’ll be okay. There’s a lot of manpower in those woods chasing one injured man.”
Uncle Henry shined a bright light in Blake’s face.
Blake slapped it away. “Knock it off.”
Marissa chuckled against his chest. Blake held her t
ighter, wishing he knew why she’d laughed and how to make it happen again.
“Did you check his head?” West asked. “He’s talking really loudly.”
Blake waved a hand over his ears. “Do not. My ears are ringing, but I can hear. My vision is fine. I’m fine. I hurt like hell, but I’ll live.”
Cole strode into place beside West, spotlight in hand. He tilted his head back and looked skyward. “Storm’s coming. I’m heading out before it gets here. What we don’t find tonight could be washed away by morning.” He tipped his hat to his brothers, uncle and Marissa before jogging into the woods between flares.
Blake shifted Marissa in his arms and indicated that she should lie back on the gurney.
Shockingly, she complied.
He turned back to West. “We need to contact all the local hospitals, clinics and facilities where Nash can either get patched up or work on himself. Veterinarians and dental offices included. He’s resourceful, so put the word out. It’s going to be a lot harder for him to blend in while he’s bleeding.”
Uncle Henry wiggled his phone in the air. “I’m ahead of you, young ones.”
West watched Blake. His gaze lingered on the hand, now caressing Marissa as she tried to relax.
Blake lifted his chin in response to the questions on his brother’s brow.
Yes, he’d fallen hard and fast for this woman, and no, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to assure Nash Barclay never got anywhere near her again.
Chapter Twelve
The walkie-talkie on West’s shoulder erupted in a short blast of white noise. “Sheriff Garrett, this is dispatch,” a woman’s voice announced.
Marissa’s eyes popped open, her body on alert. Had they found Nash floating in the river? She chastised herself for wishing that he was facedown.
West depressed the button and turned his face toward the noisy device. “Go ahead.”
“I know you’ve got the whole team with you, sir, but there’s a call about some movement outside the Lane home on Blue Grass Run. Neighbor says there’s no car, but the lights are all on.”
Marissa shot upright, tugging her IV and ignoring the dull thud in her head.
“Whoa.” Uncle Henry shoved one hand over the tape securing her IV. “Wait a minute. Settle down.”
She wiggled free of his grip. “She’s talking about my sister’s house. I need to go.” Had enough time passed for Nash to reach Kara’s place? That was nearly a mile downriver from Marissa’s. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to gauge the possibility. In a kayak, yes. On foot? Maybe, but injured? That depended on where he was shot.
She gave Uncle Henry’s hand a pointed stare.
“Let the drip do its work,” he insisted.
“I feel better. My head’s fine. I’m not going to puke.” She grabbed Blake’s arm with her free hand. “Take me with you.”
West left the ambulance doors open as he walked away. A moment later, the lights on his cruiser flicked on, and he maneuvered through the crush of vehicles, heading downriver toward Kara’s neighborhood.
Blake looked from Marissa to his uncle.
Uncle Henry puffed his cheeks in defeat and released her hand. “She should rest. I put something mild in her IV for pain. I’d say you could leave her with me, but you’ve got the gun.”
Blake hesitated. “I can stay. Wait for West to report back.”
“No.” Marissa plucked the tape from her arm and slid the needle from her vein. “I’m going. My sister could be in danger, and we already know I am. You aren’t leaving me alone in this ambulance.”
Uncle Henry tugged his ear. “Call me if you need me. I’m on duty all night.”
* * *
BLAKE LOADED MARISSA into the cab of his truck and cursed himself for having ever left her alone there. He’d never dreamed anyone, even Nash, would try to take her with three armed lawmen a hundred feet away. Still, he’d known Nash was out there, and he’d failed to keep her safe tonight. That was all him.
She didn’t speak on the drive to Kara’s, and Blake’s gut fisted with the fear her injuries were worse than his uncle knew. What if he’d missed something critical in his evaluation? Or maybe she was just shutting Blake out. Blaming him, with good reason, for her fear and pain. Her head lolled and rocked against the seatback as they sped down winding roads toward her sister’s home. She gazed out the passenger window, effectively keeping her eyes off of his no matter how he tried to catch her attention.
He hated the silence, but couldn’t bring himself to break it. Knowing now how he felt about her and what she meant to him, her quietness felt like a wall keeping him out when all he wanted was in. He shook off the selfish urge to reach for her. Marissa would talk when she was ready, but she clearly wanted space. She’d never gone so long without speaking her mind or asking a question. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles whitened, determined to keep them there. He’d give her whatever she needed, even if what she wanted was away from him.
He sped along the dark winding road as lightning splintered across the night sky, ominous and threatening. The thunder was a wild animal giving warning before each attack. Soon, fat drops of rain exploded against his windshield, winding twisty paths through his view. He hit the wipers and said a silent prayer that this was the worst of it. Too much rain would ruin the trackers’ chances of finding Nash. Even the dogs West had called in would lose the scent in a downpour.
He stole another look at Marissa, hoping she’d forgive him one day for the heartbreak he’d caused her by letting Nash live all those years ago.
A few more hills and one stop sign later, Blake pulled into Kara’s driveway and parked behind West’s cruiser. As promised, the porch light was on along with all the lights inside.
Marissa slid from the truck on wobbly legs. She’d been so quiet the last few moments that he thought she might’ve fallen asleep.
It wasn’t hard to catch up with her on the path to Kara’s door. “Hey, slow down.” He caught her hand and pulled her back. There was no garage here, and only West’s cruiser was in the driveway. Who knew what awaited them inside?
The front door swung open and another version of Marissa sprang toward them, arms open wide. The sleeves of her faded Kentucky University sweatshirt hung past her hands, and her worn-out blue jeans were torn across both knees.
Marissa shook Blake away and collided with, what could only have been, her sister hard enough to throw herself off balance.
“Whoa.” He pressed a steadying palm between her shoulders.
The women rocked foot to foot as they hugged and laughed and sobbed. Wind whipped their hair and clothing. Rain pelted their cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” Kara cried. “Sheriff Garrett told me everything you’ve been through and I wasn’t here for you. I hate myself.” She pulled back to look at Marissa’s face, tears streaming from her eyes. Wild wisps of damp blond hair clung to her cheeks and forehead, the rest was swept into a messy bun and quickly falling. “Look at you.” She lifted gentle fingers to Marissa’s bruised face, but stopped short of touching the multitude of marks. “Oh my gosh. You didn’t tell me it was this bad. What is happening?” She hugged her again and cried louder. “You said someone tried to take you. You didn’t tell me he hurt you!”
Blake could see where all the emotion went in this family. Kara seemed exuberant enough for the entire town. He pressed forward, corralling them toward the steps. “Can we take this inside, please?” Nash was still out there somewhere, and if he wasn’t in the process of dying, then he was hurting, pissed and looking for revenge. Kara’s house wasn’t far enough from where Blake had last seen him to provide any comfort. The women needed to move their reunion inside. “Let’s go. Come on.”
Kara pulled back again. This time to glare at Blake. “Are you the one who’s supposed to be keeping her safe? The sheriff told me about what just happened. He told me you wer
e on the way, but he didn’t say she’d show up looking like this.”
Blake felt the blood drain from his face. What was it with Lane women? He pushed the two in front of him toward the door. “Inside. Now.”
West sat at the island of a peppy eat-in kitchen stuffing his face with iced sugar cookies and drinking coffee. He’d hooked the heels of his boots in the rungs of a white padded bar stool and tossed his hat onto the broad laminate countertop. “So, Kara’s fine,” he said, munching his snack. “I got here as the coffee finished brewing.” He hefted his bowl-shaped blue mug with a grin.
Marissa curled onto an overstuffed yellow couch in the adjacent sitting area and wiped her face with her palms. She pulled a furry white pillow into her arms. “Where have you been? Where’s your car? Why haven’t you called. Do Mom and Dad know you’re okay?”
Blake stifled a smile. That was the Marissa he was used to.
Kara stretched her eyes wide. “You have no idea what I’ve been through today.” She grabbed two hand towels from the handle of her kitchen stove and threw one to Marissa. She rubbed the other over her face and neck.
Marissa dried her face and tossed the towel aside. “I’m sure your day was awful.”
“Thank you.”
Blake couldn’t tell if Kara’s response was the result of cluelessness or sarcasm.
“I barely got out of the shower and the sheriff was at my door.” She motioned to West, then poured three more mugs of coffee. “Talk about scary.”
Marissa leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “He’s not scary. He’s here to help. Why didn’t you call us back? Or return our texts? Do you know how many times we’ve tried to reach you? We thought you were dead.” She pressed her lips tight and shot Blake a horrified expression.
Kara stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “My phone died. I told you I had to walk home. I’ve been gone all day. I’d already talked to both you and to Mom. You knew I was fine, and I was trying to do what you asked.” She motioned to the packed bag on her kitchen counter beside a Thermos and plastic container of cookies. “I plugged my phone in the minute I walked through the front door, then I got in the shower.” Kara mimed her head exploding. “I’ve had the worst day ever. I’ve only been home for like five minutes, and I’ve been hustling since the moment I walked in. That’s after I was forced to abandon my car and trek like thirty miles. Now, you’re here yelling because I haven’t made more phone calls? The phone was dead!”
Federal Agent Under Fire Page 13
