Angry now, Beth jerked the rifle toward the snowmobile engine cover and fired twice in quick succession. The engine sputtered and died, two dime-size holes in the cover smoking like the muzzle of a recently fired gun.
Montgomery gaped for a moment, then slammed his fist against the snowmobile’s steering wheel. “You bitch!”
A fresh wave of anger swept through her. Choking back a cry, she pointed the rifle at him. “I’ll kill you if you ever touch me again,” she said.
Raising his hands, fear showing plainly on his face, Montgomery slipped off the seat. “I’ll be back for you. That’s a promise.” Favoring his injured knee, he took off at a lumbering run down the trail.
Beth kept the rifle leveled on his retreating form. Her finger curled on the trigger. The rifle trembled in her hands. She blinked back tears.
“Let him run.”
John’s voice washed over her like cleansing rain, smoothed out her anger, and the residual fear.
“He’s getting away,” she whispered.
“He won’t get far. In five minutes this place is going to be swarming with ticked off search-and-rescue guys.” Strong hands went to her shoulders, and squeezed reassuringly. “Easy, honey. It’s over.”
“You can’t be certain…” Beth’s heart stopped dead in her chest when John’s knees buckled and he crumpled to the snow. “John!” Forgetting everything except the man she loved, she dropped the rifle into the snow and fell to her knees beside him. With trembling hands, she eased him onto his back.
He looked at Beth, one side of his mouth hiking into a half smile. “Now might be a good time to call the cops,” he said.
Working the phone from her coat, she hit the speed dial button with shaking fingers. Relief trembled through her when the sheriff’s office dispatch answered. “This is an emergency,” she said. “I’m with John Maitland of Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue. He’s been shot. We’re up on Elk Ridge. We need a medic and the sheriff’s department right away. Buzz Malone knows the location.”
When she looked down at John, his eyes had closed. “John?” Fear coiled and sprang free inside her. “Stay with me, Maitland. Don’t you pass out on me.”
“Just…tired.”
“Tell me what to do to help you.”
“Just don’t stop touching me.” A wan smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I love it when you touch me. I love it when you worry about me. When you kiss me.”
Beth choked out a laugh. “How can you joke around at a time like this?”
“Who’s joking?”
“You’re seriously hurt.”
“I’m not worried. The men of Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue are the best of the best, Beth. They won’t let a scumbag like Montgomery get away. And they’re sure as hell not going to let one of their own die up here.”
A noise off to her right made her jump. Just when she was certain Montgomery had returned for the rifle she’d usurped, a man on horseback took his mount up a small incline and halted twenty feet away. Beth recognized him as Jake Madigan, the man she’d met at headquarters the night John had taken her there.
Raising his hand, Jake waved at John. “Maitland,” he said. “How bad are you hurt?”
John raised his head and squinted. “Jake?”
“You okay, partner?”
“Thigh wound. In and out. No arterial bleeding, but I’ve lost a good bit.”
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Beth added. “Please send someone to help us.”
Without preamble, the man jerked a radio out of his saddlebag. “This is Coyote zero five three. I’ve got a code red. Team member down. I repeat, team member down. Code red.”
Another voice crackled over the radio. Jake was too far away for Beth to hear the details, but he spoke into the radio again. “Elk Ridge. Rough terrain. You’re going to need to swoop and scoop. Female companion uninjured. Do you roger that, Eagle two niner?”
A second later, the man on horseback sheathed the radio. Pulling a flare from his saddlebag, he popped the cap, struck the flare against it and tossed it on the ground. Red smoke billowed into the still air. “Chopper will be here in about two minutes. You two just hang tight.” The horse wheeled, but he looked over his shoulder. “Which way did the perp go?”
John struggled to a sitting position. “He’s on foot, Jake. Headed south down the path toward our snowmobile.”
Jake grinned. “I reckon I ought to go round him up.” The horse tossed its head impatiently, the bridle jingling. Jake touched the brim of his black Stetson. “Ma’am.” Then he left the same way Montgomery had.
Beth looked questioningly at John. “He got here fast.”
“Well, we’re fast, but not that fast. Buzz probably called him and asked him to ride up here. Jake was probably already in the area.”
“I remember meeting him.”
“He’s a good cop.”
She looked down at his leg, felt a trickle of worry. “How are you feeling?”
“Faint. I think I need a little mouth-to-mouth. Think you can handle that?”
Beth rolled her eyes. How was it that he could make her smile even when she was scared out of her wits? “You’re impossible.”
“I’m just crazy about you.”
Snuggling closer, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his. “Better?”
“Mmmm. I’ll let you know. A little more pressure would be good.”
In the distance, the rat-tat-tat of a helicopter broke the silence. As it drew nearer, the treetops shivered in the gale. Leaning back slightly, John glanced down at his watch. “Six minutes,” he said. “They’re slipping.”
“I’m sure it’s because you weren’t there to keep them on their toes.”
“Probably.” He grinned. “I’m not sure if I’ve told you this, but I’m damn good at what I do.”
“You have. More than once, actually. But you’re right. You are damn good at what you do. Not to mention pretty good at kissing, too.”
“Honey, I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Not too warm, I hope. In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve been shot.”
“Minor inconvenience.” He looked down at his leg. “The bleeding stopped. Thanks to you.” His hand covered hers, tightened. “You saved my life.”
She choked out a laugh. “I figured it was the least I could do.”
“Things might have worked out differently if you hadn’t…” His voice trailed off.
The intensity of his gaze told her he understood fully how close they’d come to dying today. Her chest constricted with emotion. Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t care. “John, I thought—”
Her words were cut short when he pressed a kiss to her mouth. Closing her eyes against the burst of joy that came with knowing he was safe and alive and so close she could feel the steady drum of his heart against hers, she melted against him. “I couldn’t shoot him,” she said. “Even after what he did to us.”
“It’s okay, honey. You’re not a killer. But you’re very, very brave.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”
“I couldn’t let that happen.” Raising his hand, he laid it gently against her cheek. “Not without telling you how much I love you.”
The words fell upon her like laughter on sorrow, rain upon a place of draught, sunlight upon frozen tundra. Joy, as golden and bright as daybreak speared through the darkness, lighting her soul. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”
“I’m saying it now, and I mean it.” He blinked to clear his vision. “I love you, and I love that child growing inside you.”
She stared at him, her pulse quivering like a butterfly. “I love you, too.”
“I’ve never loved anyone before,” he said.
“I’ll make sure you get plenty of practice.”
Overhead, the chopper hovered, kicking up snow and small debris. John looked up, saw Buzz about to disembark the cage. He figured he had about a minute left before it got crowded.
He had a few things to get off his chest.
“You showed me how to trust my heart, Beth. You taught me to trust myself.” Reaching out, he thumbed a tear from her cheek. “I was wondering if you might want to take a chance on me.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she managed to smile. “Do you think you could be a little more specific?”
“Will you marry me?” He pressed his hand flat against her abdomen. “Will you let me be the father of your child?”
He hadn’t expected his voice to break, but it did. He felt tears on his cheeks, but he didn’t care. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Both of you.”
“Yes.” She kissed him gently on the cheek. “My hero.”
Happiness washed over him, as soft and warm as morning on the mountain. In that moment, John knew he’d found something precious and rare that came once in a lifetime. As the chopper hovered overhead, he lowered his mouth to hers and sealed the promise of forever between them with a kiss.
* * * * *
Get ready for a brand new and Sexi-ER Colby Agency trilogy from USA TODAY bestselling author Debra Webb. From the emergency room to the bedroom these exclusive investigators have all of Chicago covered.
Read on for a sneak peak of Debra Webb’s FINDING THE EDGE.
CHAPTER ONE
“We’re going to need more gurneys!” Dr. Marissa Frasier shouted.
Someone amid the fray yelled that more gurneys were coming. They had nine new victims besides the dozen already in the ER. All bleeding, some worse than others. All had been shot and all were armed. And every damned one sported white T-shirts with an odd circle inside a circle in the center and wore black beanie caps. Their shouted threats echoed like thunder, inciting fear. Thank God most of the other patients had been checked in and were either already triaged and stable or had nonlife-threatening emergencies.
Eva Bowman might have considered it just another crazy Friday night looming toward a code black if not for the three cars that had screeched into the ER entrance with those new victims. Several armed men had barged in, waving automatic guns and demanding help for their friends. The three apparently in charge had forced everyone in the waiting room onto the floor and sent the entire ER staff, including the receptionist and the two registration specialists, outside to help their friends.
In all the commotion, Eva hoped someone had been able to alert the police. One of the security guards had been shot. He and the other guard had been restrained and left on the floor in the waiting room, blood pooling around the injured man. One of the gunmen stood over the small crowd, his scowl shifting from one to the other as if daring someone to give him a reason to start shooting. Eva wished she was more knowledgeable about the tattoos and colors worn by the different gangs in the Chicago area, though she couldn’t readily see how knowing would help at the moment. For now, she did what she was told and prayed help would arrive soon.
Eva pushed an occupied gurney through the double doors, leaving the lobby behind. All the treatment rooms were full so she found a spot in the corridor and parked. She ripped open the shirt of her patient. Male. Mid to late twenties. Hispanic. He was sweaty and breathing hard. He’d lost some blood from the bullet wound on his left side. Lucky for him the bullet appeared to have exited without much fanfare. Still, he was no doubt in serious pain. Whatever his pain level, he clutched his weapon and continued to bellow arrogantly at his friends as if a shot to the gut was an everyday occurrence. From what little she recalled of high school Spanish, he seemed to be claiming victory over whatever battle had occurred. If the group of wounded men who had been scattered on the asphalt in front of the ER doors were the winners, she hated to think what condition the losers were in. Didn’t take much of a stretch to imagine they were in all probability dead.
An experienced registered nurse, Eva performed a quick assessment of her patient’s vitals. Respiration and pulse were rapid. Though his skin was warm and moist, his color remained good. From all indications he was not critical, but there could be underlying issues she could not assess. He would need an ultrasound to ensure no organs were damaged, and the wound would need to be cleaned and sutured.
“Sir, can you tell me your name?”
The man stared at her as if she’d asked him to hand over his weapon. She decided to move on to her next question. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst you’ve ever suffered, can you tell me how much pain you’re in?”
“Cero.”
She sincerely doubted that was the case but if he wanted to play the tough guy, that was fine by her.
Over the next few minutes her patient as well as the others were sorted according to their needs and ushered on to the next level of care. Some were taken straight to operating rooms while others went on to imaging for additional assessment. One nurse and a doctor had been allowed to treat the patients in the lobby. Eva remained in the ER helping to attend to those who had arrived and were triaged and assigned treatment rooms before the gunmen arrived and took over. The armed patients who didn’t require further care were mostly loitering around the corridor waiting for the return of their friends who’d been sent off to imaging or to the OR. What they didn’t seem to realize was that those friends wouldn’t be coming back to join them tonight.
One of the other nurses had whispered to Eva that Dr. Frasier had initiated the emergency assistance protocol. The police had been made aware that the ER was under siege or under duress of some sort and required law enforcement intervention.
Once before she had found herself in a similar situation. Time was necessary for the police to arrive and assess the situation, then they would send in SWAT to contain the problem. She hoped no one else was hurt during the neutralization and containment of the gunmen. So far she had hidden three weapons. Two from patients who’d been rushed to the OR and one from the guy not a dozen feet away who claimed he was in zero pain. His pain had apparently been so nonexistent that he hadn’t realized his fingers had loosened on the nine millimeter he’d been waving around when he first arrived.
Dr. Frasier noticed what Eva was up to and gave her a look of appreciation. No matter that she had removed and hidden three weapons—there were still six armed victims as well as the three armed and uninjured men who had taken over the ER. Thankfully, the thug who appeared to be the boss had allowed the injured guard to be treated for the bullet he’d taken. The guard’s injury was not life threatening. He and his partner for the night were now both locked in the supply room.
Eva glanced at her watch. Approximately ten seemingly endless minutes had elapsed since the police were notified of their situation via the emergency protocol. SWAT would be rolling in soon. She didn’t have to look outside to know that cops would have already taken crucial positions in the parking area.
All handheld radios and cell phones had been confiscated and tossed into a trash can—except for Eva’s. The only reason the pat down conducted by the shortest of the three jerks who’d taken over the ER hadn’t revealed her cell phone was because she didn’t carry it in her pocket or in an armband. Eva kept hers in an ankle band made just for cell phones. Her last boyfriend had been an undercover cop and he’d shown her all sorts of ways to hide weapons and phones. If she’d been smart she would have carried a stun gun strapped to her other ankle the way he suggested.
They might still be together if he had been able to separate his work from his personal life. It was one thing to pretend to be someone else to catch the bad guys but entirely another to take on a separate persona for the purposes of cheating on your girlfriend.
Apparently the guys playing king of the ER weren’t savvy enough to be aware that, like gun manufacturers, cell phone manufacturers thought of everything when it came to keeping phones close to users. Whatever the case, Eva was grateful her phone was still right where it was supposed to be. All she needed was an opportunity to use it. Knowing the situation inside would be incredibly useful for the police, particularly in determining how they made their grand entranc
e.
Her cell phone had vibrated about twenty times. Probably her sister, Lena. An investigative journalist at a local television station, Lena had no doubt heard about the trouble at the Edge. The best journalists had good contacts within Chicago PD and the Edge always had news. A Level I Trauma test unit challenging the approach to emergency medicine, the Edge was the only one of its kind in the nation.
Eva glanced toward the rear of the emergency department and the door that led into the main corridor that flowed into imaging and the surgery suite, winging off to the Behavioral Unit on the left and Administration to the right. Then she surveyed the ongoing activity between her and the double doors that opened into the lobby area. The man in charge and his cohorts were in deep conversation with the three other patients who hadn’t been moved on to another level of care. Dr. Frasier was suturing the wound of one while Dr. Reagan was doing the same with another. Kim Levy, a nurse and Eva’s friend, was bandaging the third patient’s closed wound.
Eva eased back a step and then another. Four more steps and she would be through the door and into the corridor beyond the emergency department. Slow, deep breaths. No sudden moves. Another step, then another, and she was out the door.
Eva whirled away from the softly closing door and ran to the ladies’ room. She couldn’t lock the door since it didn’t have one—no one wanted a patient to lock him or herself in the bathroom. Inside there were, however, two stalls with slide locks.
She slipped into the second one and snapped the stall latch into place, then sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled her knees to her chest so no one coming in would see her feet. She tugged her cell phone from its holster at her ankle and saw four missed calls and six text messages from her sister. She didn’t dare make a voice call so she sent a text to her sister and asked her to update the police on the situation inside the ER. Three uninjured gunmen. Four injured with guns, five others currently unarmed and in imaging or an OR. One injured guard. Both guards incapacitated.
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