by Robena Grant
The guy in black tore around from behind the rock and kicked the gun out of Ira’s hand, and both he and Jack wrestled Ira onto his stomach. Jack was winded and dizzy and his head pounded, but he sat astride Ira, gripping one of his arms tight behind his back. Every time the bulky older man tried to move, he tightened his grip. Ira was a fighter, but Jack knew they had him now.
Blood trickled with sweat and ran down the side of Jack’s face, but he wasn’t about to let go and swipe at it, and he guessed one or more of the butterfly closures had worked loose. There’d be time for repairs later. Where the hell did the other guy go? He could barely see out of his right eye and he was losing his grip on Ira.
The guy in black ran back toward him. He dug into his biker pack, and produced a set of cuffs and snapped them in place over Ira’s wrists.
Jack staggered off Ira’s bulky body and stayed on his knees for a moment. He pressed his hands into the soft sand, and caught his breath. Drops of blood hit the sandy floor of the parking lot. Not a good sign. He blinked hard, not wanting to wipe the sweat from his eyes because he might get sand in his wound. White fabric fluttered in front of his face.
“Here,” the guy said.
Jack took the handkerchief. He sure was getting too old for this crap. He heard a scream from across the parking lot. Wendy wrestled the gun from out of Debbie’s hand and both women fell to the sand. Before he could get up, another figure flew at them. Janelle. She yelled, and pummeled Wendy’s back and shoulders with her bare hands. Then she dragged Wendy off her mother and kicked the gun out of Wendy’s hand. Debbie grabbed it. For someone so petite Janelle was strong. Jack grinned as Debbie eased out from underneath Wendy, and held the gun steady.
Jack dabbed at his face. He looked up at the toothy grin of his helper, who was leaning toward him and offering a hand.
“Your woman’s got it covered.”
Jack nodded. “Trigger.”
“Cowboy.”
“Good job but your undercover routine needs some work.”
“Ditto.”
Jack pulled out his cell phone, and then dialed Stanton’s number. “Bringing in an interesting package or two,” he said, doing away with formalities.
“Dead or alive?”
“Alive and kicking,” he said, and walked toward the women. “They’ll live to stand trial.”
“I like that. So, Trigger’s set-up worked?”
“Yeah. Damn you, Stanton,” Jack said. “I should have known you had it figured out.”
Ira cursed, and his voice was hoarse as he lifted his face out of the sand and spat. Jack grinned. Then he turned his attention back to the phone and Deputy Stanton.
“Anyone hurt?” Dave asked.
“Nope,” Jack said, and held the cell gently to his ear. “Unless you want to count two low-lives who got their butts kicked.”
Jack glanced across at Trigger who was also making a call. “Say, Dave, you know that brings me to another question. How long ago did you learn that Trigg was the agent?”
“Gotta go. You’re breaking up. See you at the PD.”
“Yeah, see you in five, Dave.”
The wail of cop car sirens and what sounded like a fire engine could be heard as the vehicles roared up the hill. “Did you call for back up?” Jack asked and his voice sounded distant, and there was a damn awful ringing in his ears.
“Yeah,” Trigger said. “You look like you could use some stitches.”
Jack laughed. “You got another set of cuffs? I don’t trust Wendy.”
Trigger nodded. “Plastic restraints should do the trick.” He dug into his biker pack again. “I’ll do it, you sit.”
“Nah. You stay with Ira.”
Across the sandy parking lot, Jack saw Debbie pull Janelle tight to her side, while her other hand still held the gun aimed at Wendy. Wendy, shaking and blubbering like a child, had crumpled into a heap by the side of the car. She probably didn’t need restraints, but he’d take no chances. She’d be booked as an accessory. Poor dumb kid. It wasn’t like she was capable of doing any harm now, and probably the best thing to ever happen in her young life would be when her father got put behind bars forever. How many years Wendy would get would be determined soon enough.
Jack smiled at Debbie and Janelle as he approached. He kneeled down beside Wendy.
“It’s a precaution,” he said. And then he pulled the restraints tight, thinking about the difference in both of the young women’s upbringings. Debbie, against all odds, had done a great job, and without the support of a husband or a stepfather for Janelle. Perfect. Those two were a team. Wendy on the other hand had succumbed to doing anything to gain her father’s love, including aiding and abetting. How sad.
He sat back on his heels. “You can put the gun down now, Deb,” he said softly, and her shoulders dropped as she fell into an embrace with Janelle.
He’d never been a parent. He had no idea how he’d be as a parent. Emotions stirred in him at the thought of all that love waiting to happen. Yeah, and he knew all about a mother’s love. He recognized it now. He’d felt it long ago from his own mother, and it wasn’t all for naught as he’d previously envisioned.
Debbie had it bad, this mother love thing. Good for her. But he couldn’t help but wonder if there might be enough room for him in her heart.
He recognized the same paramedic, the one who had treated him earlier. He arrived at the top of the cove in the fire truck only seconds behind what appeared to be every available cop car in Rancho Almagro and Indio. Jack stood leaning against Debbie’s car, gazing around out of his one good eye. If he’d thought there’d been dust in the parking lot before, there was a tornado now as the cars came to screeching halts.
“Hi,” he said when the paramedic leaped off the truck and headed straight toward him.
The guy gave him a brief nod.
“I told you I’d be back,” Jack said, making a feeble attempt at a joke and an even feebler attempt to remain standing. The guy wasn’t laughing, even though Jack thought he’d done a pretty good Arnold interpretation.
“You’ll need stitches,” he said, taking a firm grip on Jack’s elbow. “I’m taking you to the E.R.”
“Sure,” Jack said, and looked around for Debbie.
A female cop sat in her car and Debbie leaned down, talking with her through the open driver’s side window. Everything started to shimmer around the edges, and Jack wondered why there seemed to be a brown haze over everyone. Dust probably. Debbie seemed to go out of focus for a second. Then she laughed, but he couldn’t quite hear what that was about. The paramedic walked him toward the fire truck.
Trigger briefed a small group of cops who were huddled around Ira. One deputy eased Wendy into the back of one of the black and whites, and then a couple of cops put Ira into the back of another one. Red lights were flashing everywhere and sirens blared. All of a sudden Jack didn’t feel quite so chipper. His head ached, and his right eye had closed even tighter. He felt for the trickle of blood on the side of his face and thought it seemed to be drying up. Maybe he wasn’t in such bad shape after all. He stumbled, and the paramedic caught him.
“I need to go to the PD. Deputy Stanton’s waiting for me.”
“Nope,” the big guy said, and hustled him toward a stretcher that two firemen brought over. “You’re lying down.”
Debbie rushed over. “You have to listen to him, Jack.”
“Gotta give a report,” he said, and everything started to spin. He let them put him on the stretcher and sighed as he closed his eyes. Maybe the report could wait.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Debbie sat in the hospital room beside the bed, and gently stroked Jack’s hand. He seemed so peaceful but she was terribly worried. He’d slept for twenty-four hours straight. They said it was a concussion, that he’d come out of it okay, but she was getting worried even though the monitors showed a good blood pressure and a steady pulse. She’d heard doctors and nurses mutter words like concussion, amnesia, and semi-coma
tose. She’d wanted to tell them the poor man was exhausted. At least she hoped and prayed that was the story.
They’d done numerous tests, and he was under the care of an excellent neurologist. At least his MRI had come back clean. She hadn’t been given any updates, other than that he was stable. She wasn’t family. She wasn’t privy to that information, and felt lucky that they’d allowed her to visit. But she’d listened closely whenever a doctor or nurse had been in close proximity, and she’d managed to piece together what Jack’s outcome would be.
“Jack,” she said softly. “It’s Debbie, I’m here. You’re going to be fine. Can you squeeze my hand? Squeeze tight if you can hear me.”
She searched his face for any sign of recognition. He was bruised and swollen, and his skin was a masterpiece of purple and yellow and even green. He had stitches over his right eye, and an eye patch covered it. And even though he couldn’t hear her, she continued to speak.
“Janelle has gone back to college. She’d wanted to stay and make sure you were okay, but I insisted she leave as planned. I want you to know how much you’ve helped me.” She was quiet for a minute, trying to get control of her emotions. “You were right. I was overprotective with Janelle. She’s a strong woman and I need to let her live her own life, and make whatever decisions are best for her.”
She held his hand gently and rubbed the back of it with her thumb, the way he always did when he held her hand. Another tear plopped onto the bed covers. She was a complete mess, but had to continue with her story, even if it pleased only herself. “Can you believe that Janelle told me she sold her car? She also found housing with three other girls.”
Debbie grimaced but continued on. “She’s saving a lot of money and her work hours are going to increase, and what she doesn’t have saved to pay for her graduate school, she’ll get in student loans. I guess I’m not needed near as much as I’d imagined.” There was a slight hitch in her voice and she swallowed hard, and then glanced up as a nurse came into the room.
“Hello,” the nurse said. “Anything new, any changes you’ve noticed in Jack’s level of consciousness?”
Debbie shook her head and tried not to look too glum. The nurse glanced up at the monitors, walked around to check the IV, and then made a few notes on the chart. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said from the doorway.
“Thanks,” Debbie said, and went back to stroking Jack’s hand. “You’ve taught me a lot, Jack. You’ve taught me to trust again. I thank you for that.”
There was nobody here with Jack, except her. She’d learned he had no family. No parents, no siblings. He’d last listed Juan as his next of kin. Her heart had almost broken for him when she’d learned that. He was the epitome of the loner. “Rachel is at Cliffs working, as usual.” Debbie said. “She’ll check in with us later. And you know what I did?” She gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. “I actually appointed one of my girls as manager of the spa.
“It was beyond time, but you helped me to realize a lot of things, Jack, and one of those is to enjoy my life now. I hope you’ll get better so I can tell you all of this.” Her voice cracked, and she reached for her bottle of water and took a couple of sips.
“I know you’ll get better,” she continued. “And you’ll soon be off again, on another assignment, going undercover somewhere with a whole new identity.”
And she’d be alone. And she so wanted to claim him as her own, to build a family with him, to take that plunge in trusting another human being. She wanted Jack. A big fat tear plopped onto the bed covers as she realized how much he meant to her. And she’d never had the chance to tell him, and what if she never got the chance?
“I wish you didn’t have to go. I love you, Jack.”
There, damn it, she’d said it. And it hadn’t even been that difficult.
“And it’s not because you saved Janelle, and me. It’s because I’ve learned who you are and I love and trust you. I want to share my life with you. And I want to be a family.” She stroked the back of his hand again, and sniffled. Stanton strode into the room, followed closely by Trigger.
“Any change?” Dave asked.
Debbie pressed her lips tight and shook her head.
“I’ll have him awake in a second,” Trigger said and pulled a chair up to the bedside. Debbie watched Jack’s face. There wasn’t even an eyelash flutter of recognition.
“Hey, Jack. Records show Ira was in Cancun keeping Juan under close surveillance,” Trigger said. “He followed him on the same plane, got no information out of him, murdered him and then went back to Cancun. He broke into Juan’s place and stole invoices and found where the last US shipments were made.”
“It’s no use,” Debbie said. “He can’t hear you guys.”
“We gotta keep trying. Doc says it’s good to talk to him because you never know.”
“I know. But save your breath,” Debbie said. “Try again in a few days.”
Dave shook his head. Trigger shook his. Damn men. They were so stubborn.
“See, it was like this,” Dave said. “Ira flew from Cancun to his home in Mazatlan. Then he drove up and crossed the border in San Diego, and knowing Debbie had received a shipment and Juan had been in Old Town, he returned to retrieve that package. The invoice had said blue cushion. Not blue cushion cover. Ingenious, eh?”
Stanton laughed. “But Ira made a big mistake in crossing the border by car, because he’d been on Trigg’s radar and he was immediately alerted. So, old Ira had you after him, and Trig after him for the FBI.”
Trigger nodded. “But here’s the best news. You got the coordinates to the Mexican government and a raid was made on the tunnel. They got many of the dealers, took into possession busloads of cocaine, and, they killed off several of the head guys. Only the kingpin and one brother got away, but it won’t be for long. You’ll be back out there man. You’ll track down the bastards and—”
“No,” Jack murmured. “Not me. You. They’re all yours.”
“Jack,” Debbie gasped and stood. She leaned over him, and kissed his forehead. Then she gripped his hand in both of hers. “You’ve come back.”
“And I’ll never go away again.” He opened his eyes and gave her a crooked smile.
Debbie stared wide eyed almost afraid to breath. He sounded fine, just fine.
“I’m done with the DEA. I’m done with undercover assignments,” Jack said lazily. “I want to settle down, buy some land, and maybe become a farmer.”
“You’re hallucinating,” Trigger said, but he grinned broadly. “You got a bump on your head, and a concussion.”
“Nope, no hallucinations.” Jack sat up a little higher, and then laughed hoarsely. “But explain to me if you will, it’s been bugging the hell out of me. Trig, how did you know to be up at the Bump and Grind with bicycles?”
“I’d put a GPS tracer underneath Ira’s van, on Sunday evening.” He shrugged. “I did it when everyone was inside Cliffs. I thought Ira was casing the place, or about to unload a shipment of drugs. Janelle had seen him and she asked me if I knew him. I was worried about her.”
Jack nodded. “Good move.”
Debbie searched his face, his eyes, looking for anything unusual. He smiled back. “Should I call the nurse?”
Jack shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Ah, I think it’s time for us to go,” Stanton said to Trigger, while hitching a thumb over one shoulder. “Listen Jack, we can come back tonight and fill you in on Ira.”
“No need. I heard it all,” Jack said.
“Everything?” Dave asked.
“Yep.” Jack laughed, and repeated the information perfectly.
Debbie sat in stunned silence, hardly daring to breathe.
“I couldn’t get my eyes open, and I needed to see your faces before I could say anything,” Jack said. “But I was processing everything you all said.” He winked at Debbie.
“You’re sure about this, Jack?” Trigger asked, from near the doorway. “You’re done?”
“You’ll walk away from your career? I mean you’re at the top of your game now, man.”
“I’ve never been more certain. Not of anything in my life. I’m staying on in Rancho Almagro. I’ve got an offer in on the property behind the Cabrera farm.”
Debbie pulled in a breath and held it. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jack. Then she let her breath out slowly as she awakened to the possibility that Jack had heard everything she’d said. Oh, my goodness. She’d said that she loved him. That she wanted to be a family. That—
“See you guys later,” Stanton said.
Debbie managed to mumble goodbye, but it seemed her brain had frozen. She still stared at Jack, wide eyed.
“Yes,” he said, and then he started to whistle some crazy tune.
“Yes…what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you. And thanks for asking.” He closed his eyes then, but a smile played around his lips. “You can kiss me now.”
And if he hadn’t been hooked up to so much hospital paraphernalia she’d have whacked him good and hard, but instead she laughed. Then she leaned into him, and found his mouth, and kissed him soundly.
“You’re welcome,” she murmured.
A word about the author...
Robena Grant writes contemporary romance about ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances. She enjoys travel and often includes experiences from her discovery of new places and cultures in her stories.
Born in Australia, she now lives in Southern California and has two adult children.
Robena may be contacted at:
www.robenagrant.com
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
