by V. R. Marks
"Doesn't take a genius or a ghost to figure out you were working on something else." He'd probably been sharing intel on a drug bust or making an identification on some other issue. His truck stop really was a thoroughfare and the authorities frequently called on the unique expertise and observation skills he'd gained in Special Forces.
At least the time stamp proved this wasn't why Ross insisted on her staying here. Freaky message or not, if Ross planned to act on this supposed threat he wouldn't leave her out of the loop. "Well you've delivered the message. Want to grab a coffee before you hit the road?"
"I'm, ah, not supposed to leave." Bart shuffled his big feet.
She rolled her eyes, expecting as much. "I don't need a bodyguard." Bum shoulder or not, she could take care of herself. "Especially here. After all of Ross' precautions during Allie's case, as part of the RCI team who saved her, I'm accepted around here now. No one can hassle me without a community of witnesses to intervene."
"Or a slew of innocent bystanders to abuse on your behalf."
"That's a low blow." True, but low. She shot out of her chair and went to the blinds, yanking on the cord. Sunlight flooded the office as she leaned against the sill. "It's a small town."
The emergency scanner went off again announcing a collision with personal injury and naming one of the drivers. "Did you hear that? The 911 dispatcher knows who's involved in that accident. Strangers stand out here, Bart. I spend most of my time here in the office." Even though she hated it. "I'm in the court house. No one can get to me."
"I got in with a gun," Bart countered.
"Please." She snorted. "You've got clearance to walk into the NSA with that gun." It was only a small exaggeration. Maybe. "Listen to me," she said, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Bakr can send you all the threatening email he wants from wherever he's hiding. I bet the fake obituary is a distraction to hide one more of his takeover attempts. He wouldn't dare come here."
Her friend just shook his head like she was too naïve for words.
"Hey. Relax. Even if he has some sort of brain freeze and shows up, I can take care of myself." It would be easier when she could shoot, but she wasn't helpless. As soon as Bart left, she'd start tracking this persistent bastard down. This was exactly the sort of project she wanted – needed, really – something to test her skills and consume her time. He wouldn't be hiding for long. "Go home to your son."
Bart crossed his arms over his barrel chest, making it clear he had no intention of respecting her point of view on this. "Ross told me to stick around."
Of course he did. It's what paranoid bosses did when they didn't want to lose personnel. "Go home," she repeated. "Ross knows I don't need a babysitter –"
Bart lunged, shoving her to the floor. It was the last thing her shoulder needed, but shattering glass interrupted her baffled protest.
Bart slumped to the floor one hand clutching his chest, the other fumbling for his gun.
Eva groaned against the strain of pulling him closer to the wall, away from the line of sight. Pulling his gun from the holster, she flipped off the safety.
"Sniper," he said in a gurgling voice.
Obviously. She needed to call an ambulance for Bart. She wanted to return fire. While she'd never been in the field taking fire, she knew the mission protocols as well as any of the soldiers she supported with her real time intel.
Sirens erupted on the street, boots and voices bubbled up from the floors below.
Time slowed, each beat of her heart separate from the one before and after. She knew the layout of each building on this street. With a crystalline clarity she made her choice. Pivoting on her knees, she raised the gun and her eyes swept the roofs across the street for a target.
Spotting movement at the corner of the post office building, she took aim and squeezed off a three round burst.
And missed. Her volley didn't even slow the sniper down. Telling herself it had been a long shot – literally – she ducked back down to help Bart. "Haven't you learned not to jump in front of the bullets yet?"
"Get him?"
"No."
"Sorry."
"Shut up." She covered his hand with hers, pressing hard into the wound. Blood seeped through her fingers and she alternately prayed and shouted for help while searching out anything to use as first aid.
He gasped. "Led him. To you."
"Shut up," she repeated. "One more word and I'll put you out of my misery."
His mouth jerked in what might have been an attempt to smile. "Yeah. Love you too."
* * *
At the sound of breaking glass, Carson met Mrs. Jackson's startled gaze. They were the only two people in the office. "Go check on her. That sounded close."
Carson started up the stairs, taking them two at a time when he heard three gunshots.
"Shots fired, floor three," he reported through his radio as he eased the stairwell door closed. Hurrying down the hall, he heard muffled voices in Eva's office and he caught the sound of movement on the main stairs. More security. Court wasn't in session today so it would be a skeleton crew, but they were competent. Assured by the backup, he burst through the door, weapon drawn, to find half the window gone and Eva kneeling at her friend's side, their hands clasped on his chest, blood soaking into his shirt.
"Love you too," he said.
Okay, more than friends.
When no one shot at him, he lowered his gun and stepped closer.
"He needs an ambulance," Eva called. "He's been shot."
Carson nodded. He was already calling it in. "On the way," he said completing the request. "What happened?"
"Sniper on the post office roof. I opened the blinds and Bart went down."
Carson made a mental note. He'd been up here enough to know Eva kept the blinds open all the time. So Bart had closed them. Had the man known there was a threat?
"I fired back. No luck."
"We'll find him." Someone had to see something. Carson had dozens of questions, but he kept them to himself as paramedics arrived.
"I'll ride with him," Eva announced as they rolled the stretcher bearing Bart out of the office.
"No." He signaled the ambulance crew away. "You'll ride with me." He'd had no word from Carpenter and he wanted to get some answers out of Eva without an audience. Based on the crisis, he didn't think staying in the building was the best move, but he wasn't going to let her out of his sight. "They have him stabilized."
"Right."
Her pale face and shaking hands made him want to hold her. A gesture he was sure she'd reject. "Security will guard the scene until the crime lab techs get here."
"Right." She closed her laptop and gathered the components.
"Leave it here."
"Absolutely not." Ignoring him, she tucked the various tech gear into a well-worn Army issue messenger-style bag. "I understand chain of evidence and I promise to cooperate."
"Eva –" Words failed him at the sudden, cold fury sparking in her deep brown eyes.
"This office was attacked." She drilled her finger into the desktop. "Until I know why, my work goes where I go. RC Investigation protocol."
He studied her. "You're making that up. Sheriff Cochran can release your things to your boss later."
"No." She shook her head. "A new protocol is still a valid protocol. Ross would kill me himself if I let our work sit out for anyone to stumble over or steal."
Carson had a mother and sisters. He recognized an immovable force when he saw one. "Come on then."
She stayed quiet until they reached his car, the only official car left in the lot. "Why didn't you answer the school emergency?"
"Wasn't my turn."
"What about the car accident?"
"I'm not a paramedic." He could hardly tell her the sheriff had worked it out so he was almost always in her vicinity. "And the person injured is a friend of Sheriff Cochran."
"He must be worried."
"We'll probably see him at the hospital."
"Of cour
se."
He opened the passenger side door for her and she slid in without any remarks on his manners or her capabilities. He took it as a fair indicator of her high stress level. When he was in the driver's seat, he paused to think about what information he needed first. "Why was Bart in your office?"
He'd seen her lock it, why didn't it bother her that he'd broken in?
"He was worried about an odd email he'd received. I was trying to convince him it was nothing."
"You believe he was shot over this email?"
"It's possible," she admitted. "But it's only one explanation. Bart earned a few enemies along the way."
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"Who are your enemies?" He estimated another two minutes to the hospital and held out hope she'd give him something more substantial than this. He wondered if it would help or hurt his cause if he mentioned the Morcos family.
"That list grows after every assignment," she said with a weary attempt at a smile. "I've been accused of being pushy and abrasive."
"Come on, Eva." He couldn't hide his disappointment. Avoidance didn't help either of them. "If that sniper was aiming for you who do you think sent him?"
"Why don't you believe he was after Bart?"
"My job at this point is to explore all the options and I'm talking to you right now. Who might be after you?"
She sighed. "No idea." She patted her laptop bag. "But I intend to find out."
He was forced to drop the subject as they pulled up to the emergency room entrance, where the sheriff was chatting with a nurse waiting with another patient in a wheelchair. The sheriff opened Eva's door, then leaned in for a second. "I'll take her inside, get her cleaned up, and settled. You need to get an update on Bart and if he's able, I want some answers."
"Sure thing."
With the ER staff bustling around him, Carson made a few notes for the report he knew Ross would demand at the first opportunity. When he was allowed a few minutes in the ER bay with the patient known officially as Karl Bartholomew, the man proved as evasive as Eva had been and Carson knew it wasn't just the pain meds blurring his memory.
"Why did you close the blinds?"
Bart scowled at him, though his face was almost as pale as the pillow under his head. "It was too bright. I had a headache."
Carson hooked a foot around a rolling stool and sat down, putting himself nearly nose to nose with Bart. "I have a job to do here. You strike me as a man who understands that concept. If you led a sniper into this town, I need to know about it."
"So that's how it is, huh?" Bart laughed, wincing from the pain it caused. "Men fall for her wherever she goes. You're not her type."
Carson had a sudden urge to add 'broken nose' to the man's medical chart. Keeping his fists on his knees, he played a hunch. "Why did you take a bullet meant for her?"
"You wouldn't?" Carson battled back his immediate affirmative reply and stared Bart down. "Better me than her. If anyone can find the bastard who ordered that sniper to take the shot, it's Eva."
The curtain slid back and Mrs. O'Kelly, a nurse who worked with his mom, smiled at him. "The sheriff's asking for you, J.C."
"Thanks."
Chapter 3
Carson returned to the waiting area to find Sheriff Cochran pacing back and forth in front of the receptionist's tall desk. "They're waiting for us in the office. What's the prognosis on the big guy?"
He wondered who 'they' meant, but figured he'd find out soon enough. "Good prognosis, I guess. Mrs. O'Kelly says he's stable and no one seems too worried about him." Except Eva.
"I called in some help from Florence PD for a protective detail."
Carson nodded, following the sheriff away from the noise of the ER and into the quiet of one of the admin offices. Ross, Eva's boss, glanced up as they walked in, but Eva's gaze remained locked on her computer screen.
"How's Bart?"
"Stable enough to answer a few questions," Carson replied, pleased when his answer caught Eva's attention.
"What did he tell you?" She caught her lower lip with her teeth while she waited for his answer.
Carson was tired of the information flowing only one way – away from him. "Did he complain of a headache when he arrived?"
Ross and Eva exchanged a surprised look. "Bart never has headaches."
"So why did he really close the blinds?"
"Dammit." Ross straightened, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning at Eva. "They followed him straight to you."
"You couldn't have known anyone was that close," Eva countered.
"Whoever is out there, he's good," Sheriff Cochran added. "Spread us thin with those staged emergencies, then took his shot."
"Staged emergencies? No one else has been hurt today?"
"Not so far," said the sheriff.
Theories bounced around between the other three and Carson felt like the odd man out again. Granted he was, but if they trusted him to keep an eye on her –
"Hold on. Let's back this up," Ross interrupted. "Deputy Morris needs to know what he's up against."
While he appreciated that on one level, he didn't care for the way Eva suddenly studied him like he was some sort of contagious germ under a microscope.
She turned an accusing look on her boss. "You've had him tailing me?" She ranted in Italian with what sounded like some German mixed in for emphasis. "Unbelievable." Turning on Carson, she added, "I should have known."
"Sounds like you need to get two of us up to speed," Carson said. No way was he taking the brunt of her attitude or possible retaliation for this. It wasn't his idea to keep her boss informed of her coming and going around town or to report any and all visitors. Which to date had only included him and Bart.
As assignments went, keeping an eye on a woman as vibrant and beautiful as Eva was no hardship. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to amend his earlier 'prickly' assessment and replace it with 'complex'. Still, if she wanted to be angry with someone over his hovering, he'd prefer it if she aimed those emotions at Ross.
"Leave him alone," Ross snapped. "He was helping me."
There was an unholy gleam in Eva's eyes. "Was that to smooth over any hard feelings that you once suspected him of murder?"
"What the hell?" Carson looked to the sheriff, who just shrugged.
"Be quiet, Eva. You're just upset. Picking a fight won't help." He caught Carson's gaze. "She can tell you about it later. You'll have plenty of time because I want you two joined at the hip until this threat is resolved."
A task all the more challenging now that any sincere personal progress he'd made with her was wiped out. Trying to be professional, he said, "You were about to explain the threat."
Ross opened his mouth, but Eva interrupted with a raised hand.
"I botched the intel on a rescue mission when we were in the Army. The son of a powerful man had been taken hostage and we – well, the guys with guns – went in to get him out. If the son died, the uncle, a real nasty piece of work by the way, would inherit the business." She paused, running a hand down her long ponytail. "No one wants that to happen, even if most people don't know they don't want it to happen. Are you tracking?"
He nodded.
"My job was to interpret the intel and guide the rescue team. I screwed up."
"Maybe."
She flicked a hand, dismissing Ross' defense. "Do you speak Russian?"
"No," Ross replied. "But –"
"Well, apparently I'm not as fluent as I thought." She raised her eyes to Carson and her steely resolve made him ache for the heavy blame she carried. "The error was on me. I blew it and our team walked into more firepower than should have been there that night. The son died en route to the father even though Bart did all he could to save him."
"The kidnappers had no intention of letting him live," Ross said.
"Doesn't matter. A bad analysis – my analysis – of good intel was the problem."
The body language between Ross and Eva
gave him a more complete picture. "You think she was set up," he said to Ross.
"I do. The mission was full of good intentions but it went straight to hell in a hurry." He dropped a hand on her shoulder when she tried to interrupt him again. "Our current intel says the nut job we were trying to keep out of power has already taken over and is nipping loose ends to secure his position."
"I don't believe that," Eva protested. "Abe Morcos is not dead."
"And yet a sniper put a bullet in Bart," Ross said through a clenched jaw. "In the middle of Haleswood."
There was obviously much more going on and Carson's mind darted back to the report he'd have to file as the first responder to the incident in her office. "So today's shooter was after Bartholomew?"
"Doubtful," Ross said. "If Bart was the real target they could've taken him out any number of places on the drive from Columbia to Haleswood."
"Unless he wanted me to watch Bart die," Eva murmured.
"No one knew you were here," Ross disagreed. "Until now."
Carson thought about it, trying to make the pieces he did have fit into some logical order but there were too many blanks. "How does today's attempt support your previous intel that Eva was a target?"
"Yeah," Eva turned on Ross. "Where is that information?"
"You'll get it. One of my contacts picked up chatter about a bounty for any information on the whereabouts of the American queen."
"That's all? Come on, even for Mr. Overprotective, that's thin. 'American queen' could refer to anyone." She threw her hands into the air. "We both know how teams use odd nicknames for their analysts."
Carson didn't believe her team had called her queen out of a warped sense of humor. Didn't she realize her tendency to rule any room or situation with either a friendly or intimidating approach?
"Not so thin when we verified the bounty is offered by Bakr Morcos."
Carson watched the color drain from Eva's face. She froze, like someone had hit pause on a movie. If the mere mention of the man's name did this, he knew there was more she wasn't sharing. She just wasn't that fragile.
Again, he felt the urge to shelter her, to hold her. If nothing else, a touch might jolt her out of the shock gripping her.
