by Eileen Green
Distracted by his thoughts, Tanner knocked into someone, drawing his attention to the present. “Sorry,” he said to the woman pushing a man in a wheelchair.
The woman didn’t say anything, just looked at him strangely. Mentally shrugging it off, Tanner continued making his way to where the small cafeteria was.
As he poured two cups of coffee, a chill ran up and down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Something was wrong.
Leaving the coffee behind, he started back to the ER. Before he could get to the emergency room, the text message tone sounded on his phone. He started to reach for it when tones began to sound all around him. People around him in the waiting room, patients, nurses, the ladies at the desks were pulling their phones out, but Tanner didn’t have to read his to know what was happening.
His mind went to the woman he had bumped into. She didn’t look familiar. The man she was pushing was trying to keep his face hidden, his body hunched over a bit in the chair.
There was something so odd about the pair.
The woman who had helped Tanner check Brock in came up to him holding her phone.
“Did you see the picture they sent out?” she asked with concern, handing her device to him.
He took the phone, trepidation coursing through him. He felt as if looking at the phone was just going to solidify what he knew in his heart and mind.
Sure enough, the woman on the phone looked a lot like the woman he had run into. The picture was fuzzy, but it looked like her. The man in the photo was probably the man she was pushing.
Shoving the phone back at the woman, he ordered, “Call Connor. Tell him we have an issue here. Clear the area also.”
Doing what she was told, she dialed and held the phone up to her ear as she moved back to her desk. Tanner pushed his way through the double doors to the ER, only to find himself face-to-face with the muzzle of a Glock.
The man holding the weapon was the man from the wheelchair. He looked as if he had been on the losing end of some major fights with the scars he sported.
Tanner held the man’s gaze but did a survey of what he could see. The nurse who had attended Brock was lying on the floor in a slump while the doctor, Dr. Ross, a thirty-something man who stood about six feet tall, was being held at gunpoint by the woman. It was a semiautomatic weapon, which could do a lot of damage.
This wasn’t going to end the way everyone had planned. The question was why were they here and not at Connor’s house?
“Where is Brock Tillman? I know he’s here,” the woman said in a thick Spanish accent.
They want Brock? But for what?
“I’m Brock,” Tanner said, drawing in a deep breath. He was expecting to feel the searing pain of a bullet.
The woman looked at him suspiciously and then motioned for the doctor to move over toward Tanner with her rifle. The man did as requested, his eyes wide with fear. By the looks of him, he wasn’t from around here. He was most likely here because he couldn’t get a job elsewhere.
When the man was close to Tanner, he raised a brow in question, as if asking what the hell are you doing?
Remembering that Frank Green had said that Catalina Moraga was homely, Tanner thought this had to be her. She looked as if she had led a hard life, and she was supposed to be thirty-three-years old? Lines grooved in her forehead and deep ones were around her eyes, and her dark hair was graying. Heaviness had settled in her cheeks and neck.
Her mouth was set in a straight line as her dark brown eyes with the whites bloodshot from lack of sleep looked at Tanner, taking in his appearance. Tanner knew she was trying to decide if he really was Brock. Luckily, he looked like his brother even though he was a few years younger.
Since he and the doctor were now standing next to each other, not only was the Glock still being aimed at his face, but the semiautomatic also was now aimed at him.
Tanner hoped he could reason with them to help save everyone else. “Why don’t we take this away from here? These people have done nothing to hurt you, and truthfully, I don’t know what I’ve done to you. I am a ranch hand who doesn’t get away from the ranch very often.”
“Where is Maria Garcia?” the woman demanded.
“Who is Maria?” Tanner asked, a bit confused.
“Martha,” the scarred man corrected, his eyes never leaving Tanner.
“I don’t know.”
“You lie!” the woman shouted. She moved her gun to the left a bit and pulled the trigger.
Several rounds whizzed by Tanner’s arm and hit the wall. With the force those bullets come out of that type of gun, he feared for anyone who might be on the other side of the wall.
The gun was pointing back at Tanner. “Now, I ask you again,” she snarled. “Where is Martha?”
“Buried. She was killed in a car accident in Texas.” Tanner wasn’t lying. Martha Brady had been killed.
“Wrong answer, Mr. Tillman.”
“She was killed in a car accident,” Tanner said, his voice shaky. “I claimed her body, and we buried her. I have the death certificate.”
The woman’s sidekick moved his hand so quickly that Tanner felt the pain across his cheek before he realized the man had moved.
“You are trying my patience. I know she is a part of the witness protection plan and that she was sent to California after her so-called accident. It was reported that she was living here now. You two must have had a nice reunion.” The woman was smug.
The man with the gun laughed manically. “She must be a good fuck to wait all that time to see her,” he said, his accent thicker than the woman’s.
Tanner was seeing red with the man’s comment. How dare he talk about Blair like that?
Looking beside him at the lady, the man laughed again. The handgun was unsteady with his movement, which Tanner took advantage of.
He brought his right arm up and knocked the man’s arm away while kicking out, his cowboy boot striking the man’s knee. With a howl, the man stumbled backward, the Glock going off.
“Run!” Tanner shouted at the doctor as he moved himself between the monsters before him and the medical man.
The doctor didn’t have to be told twice. In fact, Tanner thought the man hit the door before Tanner had been able to say anything. At least that was one less person he had to be worried about.
“Hijo de puta!” the Hispanic man shouted as he righted himself. His gun was raised and aimed at Tanner again.
“You are trying my patience,” the woman snapped. “You have one minute to tell me where your girlfriend is before I begin to fill you with holes. Slowly.”
Tanner thrust his chin up in defiance. “I told you. She’s dead. Are you sure you have the right woman?”
“Dejame dispararle,” the now angry man said through gritted teeth. His anger at Tanner was evident, something that was dangerous. He wanted blood.
“No, you’re not going to shoot him. If anyone is going to shoot him, it’s going to be me for not telling me where that cunt is.”
No one called Blair any names, especially cunt without paying for it. If he got his way, Tanner was going to take this woman out himself.
“First off,” Tanner began, taking a chance. “Who the hell are you? What do you want with my deceased fiancée?”
The woman smiled wickedly. “She hurt my father, and she’s going to pay. You’re going to pay if you don’t tell me where I can find her.”
“Look. Martha was the sweetest woman I knew. She wouldn’t have hurt anyone. I think you have the wrong person.”
The Glock rang out. A searing pain shot through his right bicep. Tanner held his ground, biting back the pain.
“Idiota!” the woman shouted at the man. “Te dije que no dispararas!”
Tanner watched the two. If this was Catalina Moraga, she was fighting with one of her father’s men, who was most likely still on her father’s side. Perhaps he had his own agenda, like getting to Blair, killing her, and then grabbing that reward. It seemed as if
this woman didn’t have a hold on this situation as much as she had hoped for.
“He is playing you, senorita! He knows who we are talking about, and he knows where she is.” The man was looking between Tanner and Catalina.
Discord could have Tanner getting the upper hand.
Movement behind the couple caught Tanner’s attention. Connor stuck his head around the curtain where Brock was and looked around. He looked at the nurse on the floor and headed for her.
“If you know she is here, then why aren’t you visiting her instead of me?” Tanner asked to keep the duo’s attention on him.
Connor quickly picked up the nurse while the woman before him spoke.
“She’s not listed, and our contact just said he had found her in this town. There was no address. I assumed since you were lovers in the past you’d know where she was. Now, your minute is up.”
A siren sounded from the back of the room. It was where they brought in patients from ambulances. “What the hell?” the man asked, fear sounding in his voice.
Both the man and the woman looked toward the back doors. Tanner was going to try to bolt, but the man grabbed him by the front of his shirt before he could move.
* * * *
“Both of them are armed. The man has a handgun aimed at Tanner, and Catalina has a semi,” Connor explained to the little group as they stood off to the side of the ER bay. “Security has cleaned out the main floor, and the units are on lock-down. From what the doctor told the guards, the man seems a bit unstable.”
“And she doesn’t?” Chavez asked as he took the safety off the shotgun he would hold when he went in.
“From what I saw, she is a bit edgy since Tanner isn’t being cooperative.” Connor flipped open the barrel of his old pistol, double-checking to make sure it was fully loaded. The others were doing the same.
“I don’t understand why she’s here at the hospital instead of at the diner,” Derek said as he shoved his SIG into the back of the paramedic uniform he was wearing. His jacket would cover it.
“She keeps calling Tanner ‘Brock,’” Connor explained. “What I think is that she did some deep investigating, or paid someone to do it, and found out that Brock and Martha were engaged. If she followed the path somehow, she would have discovered that the two were now living in the same town. Catalina probably thought that Brock knew where she was.”
“The witness protection program isn’t something easy to infiltrate. Someone had to have given her the information,” Lawrence said with disgust.
Everyone shook their heads in disbelief.
“Where’s Brock right now?” Derek asked.
“I couldn’t move him without making a lot of noise. He’s still in one of the curtained cubicles. Try to keep the gun fire away from that corner.” Connor looked around at the team. “Let’s do this,” he said with a nod.
* * * *
The doors flung open, and a paramedic was backing into the room pulling a gurney. The medic who was pushing on the rolling bed had his head tucked down.
“We’ve got a GSW to the abdomen,” the first man said in a familiar voice. “Patient is a forty-three-year-old female. BP is 85 over 32, sinus tachy rhythm. Breathing is erratic and slow. Her name is Mart…”
He turned as if to talk to a nurse. When he saw the guns in the room, he looked surprised. Pulling his hat off his head, Tanner saw that both men were state patrol officers who were at the dinner the other night. They were in a ménage with Glen’s former waitress, Tanya. The one who spoke was Derek Hanson, and the other Chase Daniels.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asked incredulously. Chase stepped around the gurney and went to stand next to Derek, as if to hide the patient.
“We’ll ask the questions,” Catalina said, snapping at Derek. “What is her name?”
Catalina now had her gun trained on the new arrivals. Derek reached for the notepad in his shirt pocket. “Stop!” the woman demanded. Derek did as he was told. Then, she said, “Take it out slowly, and it better not be a gun.”
“It…it’s just my not…my notebook, ma’am,” he said, acting like he was nervous. Derek pulled out the notebook. When Catalina put her hand out for it, he slowly moved forward, shoved it in her hand, and then stepped back next to Chase.
Looking over the small pad, a smile spread on the foreign woman’s face. “Well, look at that.” She turned toward Tanner. “And you said she wasn’t here.”
The doors to the ER bay slammed open, and a dressed-down Chief Chavez walked in carrying a shotgun that was leaning up against his shoulder. “All right, everyone. Just stay where you are,” he said cockily. “I’m here to finish the job I started, and then everyone can go back to what they were doing.”
Chavez was dressed in a pair of dirty blue jeans, a flannel shirt with a jean jacket on top of it, and a pair of gray snakeskin boots. His hair, which was slicked back when they had dinner with him two nights ago, was dry and messy. Blood had been spattered on the front of him to make it look like he had been right in front of Blair when he “shot” her.
“What do you want with the woman?” Catalina asked. “Did she cheat on you?”
Eyeing her, Chavez snidely asked, “What’s it to you?”
“I have unfinished business with her. She’s mine.” Catalina was getting too cocky, her gun slowly being lowered.
Unfortunately, the man she was with didn’t move his from Tanner’s face. Tanner knew the man wanted a piece of him and would most likely go against Catalina’s orders as he already had. He had to figure out how to distract the little bastard.
Chapter Eleven
The beeping sounds on the monitor that was supposed to be tracking Blair’s heartbeat suddenly stopped, the steady hum heartbreaking. Chavez knew it was a setup, but he hated to hear that sound since his wife had passed away.
Catalina Moraga was standing across the room with a semiautomatic in her hand. Her henchman had a handgun that was pointing straight at Tanner. By the looks of it, one of the assholes had already taken a shot at him.
Needing to play this out the best he could, he took a step toward Catalina, putting a smirk on his face. “Who are you, senora?” he asked, trying to flirt with her.
“I am the woman who was supposed to have killed the woman who is lying in that bed. She has been a problem for my father for the past thirty years, and I came to take my revenge.” Catalina was too smug.
Derek and Chase were beginning to shuffle their feet. “I hate to break this up,” Chase said with authority. “But the patient needs assistance.”
As if coming out of a reverie, Catalina looked at the gurney. “Take care of her. I want her alive when I look into her eyes and tell her she is going to die.”
This is one crazy bitch!
“Don’t,” Chavez ordered, lowering his gun down to aim at Derek. “I intend to collect my reward, and no one can stop me.”
A gasp sounded from Catalina. “Reward?”
Chavez grinned, hoping it was a convincing one that would say he was going to get half a million dollars. “Yes. There is a bounty on this woman’s head, and I want it.”
“You are Durango?” the woman’s companion asked.
“Yes?” Chavez asked, trying to put an air of disbelief in his voice. “How do you know about me?”
“You contacted us about finding the woman. I am Diego.”
Thinking for a moment, Chavez snapped his fingers as if remembering. “Ah, yes. Diego.” Then, Chavez moved his gun until it was aimed at Diego. “Are you trying to cheat me out of the reward you are to pay me?”
The man laughed sinisterly. “I wasn’t. But now that you mention it…” His arm whipped around, and he was aiming his gun at Chavez.
Anticipating the more, Chavez pulled the trigger. The shotgun sounded loud in the open room. The shell hit Diego before he could get off a shot, blood blossoming on his chest.
“Stupido!” Catalina screamed.
She raised her gun, but stopped when Chavez said,
“Don’t!”
The woman stopped, a vicious look on her face. Her gun was raised, aimed at him, but she stopped moving.
“You came all this way to cheat me out of my money, bitch. You are not going anywhere until I get my money.”
“I want proof that she’s dead,” Catalina demanded.
“I can’t stand by and let a patient die because you two are having a spat about her,” Chase said as he began to turn toward the gurney.
“How ’bout you join her?” Chavez asked as he began to turn toward him.
Chase stopped and held up his hands near his chest. “Dude, okay. We’ll play it your way. I have a wife and kids to get home to.”
“Then don’t make any stupid moves.” Chavez didn’t like what was being said, but he was kind of getting into this acting thing.
The humming sound was beginning to grate on his nerves. Memories were flooding back into his mind.
First there was the diagnosis, and then the treatments that were not only painful but unkind to her body. She had lost weight so quickly, along with her hair. Her strength left her as the vicious disease ravaged her body. A trip to the hospital for pneumonia was the last trip for his wife.
He had taken a leave of absence from work, the town officials understanding what he was going through. Hour after hour, he sat with her, holding her hand, talking and reading to her while she was able to stay awake. Morphine caused her to sleep the majority of the time. The day she was taken from him, the beeping that marked each and every beat of her heart was an indication that she was still alive.
Then, in the middle of the night, the beeping stopped. The hum was steady, sounding as if the volume on the machine was hooked up to a stereo and jacked up to the highest setting. He sat there for what felt like hours listening to that machine until a nurse came in to turn it off. She was gone, as were all their plans.
Shaking off the memories, he looked around the room. Everyone was tense. Catalina was eyeing him as if trying to figure him out.
