Can't Take My Eyes Off You

by Kait Nolan

  “I wouldn’t call us friends.”

  “You were drinking buddies. Plenty of people saw you down at The Mudcat together.”

  “We knew each other from the old days at the factory, same as Eugene—although he got fired well before the place closed. We’d get together and bitch about it on the regular. Fact is, our whole lives changed because of that place. That’s where everything went to shit. It was the start of Harley’s drinking, the start of my pain problem. The start of everything.”

  The start. The idea of it struck Ethan. “Do you know if he’s been back out there after the plant shut down?”

  “Sure. He took pride in breaking in and pissing around the place. Literally.”

  Ethan met Judd’s gaze and jerked his head. He followed him out of interrogation and out to the massive county map mounted beside the dispatcher’s desk. “The factory.”

  “You think he’s holed up there?”

  “It’s isolated. Empty. It was a place that held significance to him.” Ethan found it it on the map. Where else would a rat go if all its other escape routes were cut off?”

  They studied the area.

  “Limited road access. Plenty of places to bolt if he hears them coming,” Judd observed.

  “If I were still with the Marshals, I’d surround the place, make a half mile perimeter. But we don’t have the manpower for that. And if I’m wrong—”

  “Chief!” Cleveland’s voice had them all turning. “Delaney Newell is on the phone. You need to take this.”

  Ethan snatched up the receiver. “Delaney?”

  “He’s at the old Heirloom Home Furnishings factory.” The woman’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “I don’t live too far from here. I heard a noise and came to check it out. The gate’s busted open and I saw a black Grand Cherokee parked by one of the loading docks. So I snuck in to check it out. It’s Miranda’s Jeep!” she hissed.

  “Where are you right now?” Ethan demanded.

  “Hiding in the bushes on the north side of the factory, near where reception used to be.”

  Dear God. The last thing he needed was for another civilian to get dragged into this and hurt. He signaled to his officers to get ready to roll. “We’re on our way. Do not go inside. Do not engage. No heroics. You stay hidden and don’t make a sound. Understand?”

  “Yeah. I can’t tell for sure, but I think he’s in the main building, where distribution was located.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I used to work here, too.”

  Of course she had. “Which building is that?”

  “The big one connected to the loading dock where Miranda’s Jeep is parked.”

  “Okay, we’re coming. Don’t move. Don’t talk, but stay on the line with Cleveland. If anything changes, you try to let us know if it doesn’t endanger your position.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ethan handed the phone back to his dispatcher and turned to his waiting team. “We just got confirmation that Harley’s holed up at the Heirloom factory. Let’s go bring Miranda home.”

  Chapter 25

  Harley paced, one hand pulling at his hair as he made rounds of the warehouse. Miranda watched him, grateful he wasn’t paying attention to her for now. But he was getting more agitated by the minute. He’d said he wanted Ethan to pay, wanted to make him watch while he hurt her. It seemed he was beginning to realize that was easier said than done.

  Oh, he could hurt her more than he already had. But there was too much open space here and no easy way to lay any kind of a trap. Certainly not for a seasoned ex-Marshal, who’d undoubtedly show with backup when he came. Which meant…what? Was Harley realizing that and having doubts? Maybe she could talk him down, convince him of the foolishness of his course of action.

  “What are you going to do?” she rasped.

  His head shot up and he glared. “I’m going to make him pay.”

  “Yeah. You’ve said that. You want him to watch. But how are you gonna set that up here? Are you planning to leave me here, while you trap him somehow?” If he left, could she manage to get loose again? Given the state of her injuries, that seemed doubtful.

  Harley tipped back the flask again. “Shut up, bitch.”

  “In what reality do you think you’re going to get what you want and walk out of here alive?”

  “I said shut up!” Harley punctuated the order with another open-handed strike to Miranda’s face.

  She barely had the energy to cry out as another wave of pain swept through her. Slaps and punches seemed to be his preferred way to exact pain. She’d lost count of how many times he’d hit her, and she’d stopped begging. He liked it when she begged. Miranda didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and she didn’t have the energy to waste. At least he hadn’t tried to rape her. Yet, anyway. At this point, she wasn’t sure her injuries would allow her to fight back. She should probably listen to him and keep her mouth shut. But that simply wasn’t her.

  “He’s coming for you, Harley, and hell’s coming with him.” Miranda had no doubt of it.

  He gaped. “Are you seriously quoting Tombstone at me right now?”

  “Seemed appropriate. Look, there’s nowhere else for you to go. It’s just a matter of time before Ethan shows up with every available cop in the county. How are you gonna fight off all of them?” Surely the man could be made to see some kind of logic.

  “They charge the place, I’ll kill you. That simple.”

  Maybe it was that simple for him. Miranda swallowed, wishing she had some water. “But that’s not what you want. Then you don’t get the satisfaction of watching him suffer. Because as soon as I’m dead, so are you. There’s no way out.”

  She was gambling with her life.

  He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it. “What’s the pretty boy cop’s number?”

  Miranda stared. “What?”

  “What’s his fucking phone number?”

  “I…don’t know. It’s just programmed into my phone, back at the house.”

  Harley scowled.

  “But…if you dial 911, it’ll get you to the police station, and they can patch you through.” If he wanted to talk to Ethan directly, she’d do anything she could to facilitate it. If they could confirm where she was, they’d send help. She didn’t see Harley as being open to hostage negotiation, but she’d take whatever she could get.

  Harley narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decide whether she was full of shit or not. After long moments of silence, he punched the number into the phone.

  Miranda could hear the faint voice of the operator. “Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?”

  “I need to talk to Chief Ethan Greer. This is Harley Forbes.”

  Closing her eyes, Miranda began to pray.

  “There’s Delaney.” From the woods just outside the chain link fence, Ethan aimed a flashlight toward her and flicked it on and off three times.

  An answering flash came back, presumably from her cell phone.

  “What’s the plan?” Judd asked.

  Ethan spoke into the radio. “Anybody have eyes on the inside?”

  “Negative.”

  “There are multiple entry points to the entire facility, but Delaney believes them to be in this main building, here. There are, best I can tell, three entries to it, not including where it’s attached to the next warehouse. There are seven of us. If we do a systematic, simultaneous breach, we might—”

  The radio crackled. “Chief, I’ve got Forbes on the phone.”

  The three men looked at each other. “You what now?”

  “He’s called in to dispatch. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Is it actually Forbes or some nut job trying to capitalize on the chaos?” Ethan asked.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s actually Forbes,” Cleveland said.

  Were they about to get ransom demands? “Patch him through.” There was a click. “T
his is Police Chief Ethan Greer.”

  “You took something that belongs to me, Greer, so I’ve returned the favor.”

  The cocky sneer in Harley’s voice made Ethan’s hackles rise, but he kept his voice level. “Where is she?”

  “Oh, she’s alive. For now.”

  Ethan ground his teeth. “What do you want, Forbes?”

  “You. Come out to the old Heirloom Home Furnishings factory. Alone, or she dies.”

  “How do I know she’s there with you?” How do I know she’s alive?

  “Your boyfriend wants proof you’re here.”

  “Ethan—” Miranda’s exhausted voice was interrupted by the crack of fist against flesh, followed by a pained whimper.

  He wanted to reach through the phone and strangle Harley with his bare hands. “Don’t lay another hand on her. I’m coming.”

  “Alone,” Harley ordered again, then disconnected.

  She’s alive. Just focus on the fact that she’s alive.

  “How you wanna play this?” Judd asked.

  “He thinks I’m coming from town and has no idea we’re already here. Okay, new plan. Darius and Judd, I want you covering the loading dock. The rest of you split into teams of two. I want you to breach on the north and south sides, quiet as you can. I’m taking a cruiser and driving in as he expects. I’ll come in with sirens. That should cover the sound of your entry and draw his attention to me. Each of the buildings is connected, so you should be able to move quickly to his location. Reuben takes point, as our resident SEAL. I guarantee he’ll expect me to disarm when I get there.”

  “You’re not really going to give up your gun,” Judd said.

  Ethan lifted his pant leg and checked the compact Sig Sauer 1911 Ultra strapped to his ankle. “Not this one. But I’ll lose precious seconds if I have to go for it, so I’m gonna need additional cover.”

  Judd flexed his injured hand. His gun hand. “I wish I could go in to back you up properly.”

  “You have a pregnant wife at home. You were staying out here to begin with,” Ethan told him. “Let’s move.”

  He hiked back to where he’d left the cruiser, doing his best to slow his breathing and detach himself from the situation. But this wasn’t just another day on the job, wasn’t just any victim inside. It was the woman he loved, and she’d been hurt because he hadn’t been fast enough or good enough to protect her. That wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.

  Because he knew Harley would expect it, he came in hot, flying through the gates and around the building on squealing tires, siren blaring.

  Pay attention to me, you son of a bitch.

  Exiting the vehicle, he caught the quick on-off of a flashlight from the perimeter. Judd’s sign that the breach was successful. Backup would be working their way into position. Drawing his Glock .40, he tugged open the door. He didn’t really think Harley would shoot him on sight, but he took the time to clear the entry and search for cover—almost none.

  A scuffle of footsteps drew his attention toward the back of the warehouse.

  Harley hauled Miranda to her feet, using her as a human shield. “Got here awful fast.”

  “I was in the neighborhood. Let her go, Harley.” Ethan edged his way forward, his Glock at the ready.

  “Put the gun down, Greer.” The order was punctuated by a hiss from Miranda, and Ethan realized the bastard held a knife to her throat.

  Instantly lifting his hands in an I’m-no-threat gesture, Ethan crouched and laid the pistol on the ground, automatically flipping the safety on.

  “Kick it away.”

  Ethan did as he was told, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the two of them. “I did what you asked. Let her go.”

  “I’m the one who gives orders here.” He yanked her more firmly in front of him, backing them both into a shaft of moonlight from one of the high warehouse windows.

  Ethan got his first good look at Harley’s handiwork. She looked like she’d gone ten rounds with a prize-fighter. One eye was swollen shut and her entire face was a mask of blood and bruises. And that was just what he could see. Given the pained way she moved, he knew that was only scratching the surface. Vision going red, he struggled not to rush Harley. He could slit Miranda’s throat well before Ethan could tear him in two.

  A quick movement in his peripheral vision told him his backup had arrived. Keeping his focus on Harley, he kept moving forward. “Okay then. What is it you want?”

  “What I wanted was for both of you to keep your noses out of my business. Neither of you had any right to interfere with my wife, my life. But you just couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

  Ethan continued toward them. “So what kind of resolution are you imagining here?”

  “Resolution? Resolution? Do you think this is some kind of fucking negotiation?” The knife moved a fraction away from her throat, as if he was having trouble fighting the urge to talk with his hands.

  “You want something or you wouldn’t have asked me to come here. So what is it?”

  “I want you to pay. I want you to know what it feels like to have your woman taken from you while you can only stand and watch.”

  “What good is that gonna do you, Harley? You kill her, I kill you.” As he spoke, Ethan shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready for action. He was almost close enough. Even if you manage to take me out, others will catch you, and you’ll be prosecuted for capital murder. You will get the death penalty. Is a few moments of retribution worth your life?”

  Harley whipped the knife away, using it to point as he shouted, “Don’t you fu—”

  The shot rang out and everything tripped into slow motion. Harley screamed. Blood sprayed. The knife fell from what remained of his hand. His grip on Miranda loosened, and Ethan dove forward. Miranda drove her bound hands into Harley’s gut. As he released her, she fell to the floor, and the other man stumbled, reaching behind his back and pulling a gun, aiming it directly at her. Ethan collided with Miranda, wrapping his body around her and taking her to the ground, even as all hell broke loose in a hail of bullets around them.

  Chapter 26

  Miranda’s ears still rang from the echo of all the shots, and she could barely breathe from the weight of Ethan’s bulk over her. Dimly, she realized a bunch of men had moved in, with guns trained on Harley.

  “Dead,” one of them pronounced.

  Ethan shifted, starting to push off her. “You okay?” he wheezed.

  “I’m alive.” Thanks to him. She needed her hands free so she could wrap her arms around him and never let go.

  His face blanched as he shoved up and off her, flopping onto his back in a graceless heap.

  Miranda rolled toward him. “Ethan?”

  Reuben Blanchard crouched beside him. “Shit. He’s been hit. Three shots. At least one pierced his vest. Radio for medical.”

  “Cut me loose. Cut me loose!” Miranda demanded. As soon as they’d sliced through her bindings with a tactical knife, she scrambled over to Ethan. Blood was pooling beneath him. She reached to tear open his shirt but couldn’t make her abused fingers work for any kind of fine motor skills.

  “Get his amour off. I need to see the wound. One of you go out to my car. Break in if you have to. Unless Harley moved it, there should be a medical bag in the backseat.”

  They burst into a flurry of movement.

  Ethan coughed. “I’ll be fine.” But his breath was going shallower by the second.

  “Don’t talk.” She’d wondered as she’d worked on Corbett Raines what it would be like to have Ethan’s life in her hands. Now it was and she couldn’t actually use her training. Not the way she needed to.

  They pulled away the vest. Miranda shoved up his undershirt and saw the entry wound midway up the left side of his torso, toward the bottom of his ribcage, only inches from the scar of the last time he’d been shot. She allowed the terror to pulse through her for one, single beat before shoving it and the agony in her own body down and away.

  Pointing to Cli
nt, she began snapping more orders. “Roll him over. I need to check for the exit wound.” The bullet could have been deflected at a weird angle because of entry through the vest or ricocheted off a rib. She needed a set of steady hands.

  Desperate, she scanned the gathering of cops. “Do any of you have medical training?”

  “First aid, CPR and the like,” Clint said.

  “Judd,” Ethan rasped, groaning as they moved him.

  Judd Hamilton was trained as an EMT.

  “Where is he?” Miranda demanded, examining Ethan’s back. No exit wound. Which meant the bullet was still lodged somewhere inside him. Nothing any of them could do about it here, and it wasn’t the most pressing problem.

  “Outside. I’ll get him.”

  But Judd was already racing in, Delaney right behind him. Delaney? What the hell was she doing here? Miranda didn’t care because her medical bag was in the girl’s hands. Thank God something was going her way. But not enough. As she looked back at Ethan’s face, he’d gone dead white and his breathing was too fast.

  “Chest hurts.”

  “You’ve got a tension pneumathorax. Air is filling your chest and collapsing your lung.” And if she didn’t get the pressure relieved, it would go beyond collapsing the lung and begin to compress his heart. He wouldn’t survive long enough to make it to the hospital.

  His gray eyes met hers with a grim understanding. He’d been through this once before. He knew exactly what that meant.

  Miranda gripped his hand tight. “I love you. And you are not going to fucking die on me. Understand?”

  Ethan squeezed her fingers. “Love y—” His words were cut off with a fit of coughing. The veins in the side of his neck bulged, and she could see the beginning of the displacement of his trachea.

  Delaney dropped to her knees with the bag. “What do you need?”

  Miranda began pawing through the bag, grabbing disinfectant and gauze pads and passing them to Judd where he knelt beside her. “You’re going to have to sterilize the wound.” As she continued to dig, Judd did as ordered. She yanked out the dressing for open chest wounds and handed it to Delaney. “Peel off the backing.”