Walk Through the Fire (Finley Creek Book 10)

by Calle J. Brookes

  “I thought I’d stay with Houghton, flirt with Mel for a few days.” Trevor clapped him on the back. “Happy to see you, too, by the way. What’s the rig for?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” Turner started after Daniel McKellen, and Elliot stepped out of the SUV. “Chief Elliot Marshall, and head of Major Crimes, Daniel McKellen, my brother Doctor—of archeology or something like that—Trevor Barratt.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Elliot said. “We weren’t aware you’d be here today.”

  “Neither were we, El,” Mel started. “But we’ll vouch for him. If nothing else, he’ll be another barrier between her and the outside world. He’s armed; and Houghton assures me Trevor knows how to use it.”

  “Her?” Trevor asked. His expression narrowed, and he looked at Turner. “What’s going on?”

  Turner looked at Daniel McKellen. As her brother, he got the ultimate say-so. Daniel studied Turner and then Trevor for the longest time.

  Trevor was the largest of the brothers—Turner, to his chagrin, was the smallest, even though he was the oldest—and built like a linebacker. He was almost as big as Rafe Holden-Deane. The gun he wore at his waist was highly visible, and Trevor did know how to use it. Far better than Turner did, that was for sure.

  And there was a hardness about his brother now; Turner hadn’t missed it. His brother had been out there in the world—and not the safe little corners. “I trust him with my life, Dan. I’d trust him with Mel’s and Annie’s, and every other woman in the world I care about, too. This is the safest place for her. Trevor can help make it safer.”

  “Can someone actually explain what’s going on here?” Trevor demanded.

  Elliot made short work of it. “An officer on my roster was targeted and shot while undercover. We’re here to prevent another attack. She’s Daniel’s younger sister. We believe she is still a target.”

  “We’re offering her a safe place to recover,” Mel added. Turner studied her for a moment. Mel had been shot a few years ago, as retaliation against her sister, he thought. She’d recovered, but would always be partially paralyzed. She’d only had like a ten percent chance of walking ever again. She’d been back on her feet within a year. Nothing stopped Mel when she wanted something.

  Mel was one of the most remarkable women Turner had ever met.

  Another was currently opening the rear door of the ambulance.

  Turner was close enough to reach in and grab Annie by the waist and lift her to the ground. “I have you, honey.”

  “Thanks.” Her word was breathless as she looked at him, then turned to Allen. “We’ll need help lowering the gurney out, so she’s not jostled.”

  Turner and his brother both stepped forward, as well as Daniel. Between the three of them and Allen, it was a seamless process.

  Delancey never stirred.

  Annie kept by her head while Rafe and Allen, the more experienced with gurneys, rolled her up Mel’s ramp that Houghton had had installed shortly after his kidnapped bride had moved in.

  60

  Kelsie Royce had died. Dennis Lee would have to reward the family of the man who’d carried out that little task of his.

  Officer Kelsie Royce had gotten in a lucky shot before she’d been found. It had hit Paul straight in the heart, killing him instantly.

  Which was a good thing. Mostly. It meant the loss of the supplies Paul had been moving, but it had also taken care of the officer who had been a burr in Dennis Lee’s saddle since the storm. It meant Paul couldn’t run his mouth where he shouldn’t, either. But he’d been a good worker. That wouldn’t be forgotten.

  Dennis Lee hated loose lips. They really did sink ships, after all.

  Royce had been Dennis Lee’s Enemy Number One. He hadn’t intended for Paul to die, although whenever a police officer was one of the targets, that risk always existed. Dennis Lee had made certain his people knew that.

  He paid handsomely for those who performed services for him. He always had. Since that first time he’d had someone work for him in any way. Paying his people well meant he had their loyalty. Loyalty that he’d needed and utilized as best he could.

  “No one spoke to the woman before she died?” he asked the officer who had brought him the news of Officer Royce’s demise. He’d been ordered to specifically watch that woman and everything she did and report back. And then, when it had been necessary, he’d been ordered to talk with Paul exactly how to make her demise happen.

  “No, sir. She was unconscious for most of the time she was in the hospital. When she was awake, I don’t believe she was lucid. Although…” Collin hesitated for a moment. “I’m almost certain I heard voices coming from her room after her second surgery. I thought it was hospital staff, but only one nurse came out. And she was the only one in with Officer Royce at the time.”

  Impatience threatened. Dennis Lee tightened the reins on himself. He didn’t have time for this type of delay. One nurse in the grander scheme of things was trivial. “Then take care of her. Arrange an accident or something. You should be able to do that well enough, right?”

  “I would, sir. Except…she’s the mayor’s mystery woman. I was afraid it would draw too much attention if something were to happen to her now. I wanted your opinion on it before I acted. I didn’t want it to seem too coincidental, after all.”

  Dennis Lee thought for a moment. That woman was being practically sanctified in that damned Snotty Garlic right now. A young, pretty nurse, in the process of adopting three orphaned boys, now in the process of being evicted by the very mayor who’d saved her life during an F5 tornado.

  Yes, something happening to her now would bring far too much attention. Attention Dennis Lee couldn’t afford.

  “Watch her. And watch that damned Turner Barratt. He’s going to be trouble.”

  The officer nodded. “He’s been in talks with Elliot Marshall and Daniel McKellen about something. It’s big, the way they’re acting. McKellen is head of Major Crimes.”

  “No doubt it has something to do with those two cops after the storm. I knew having that idiot Vyckers deal with them was a mistake.” It had been. He’d wanted them distracted.

  Not tortured and killed.

  Dennis Lee would never condone what had happened to that young woman. Kill her, get her out of the way, yes. But torment and torture were never things he found acceptable.

  He’d taken care of Vyckers and Haloran himself. With the special pistol he reserved just for those kinds of screwups.

  The bodies had been disposed of as just two more victims of the storm.

  Dennis Lee knew what he was doing, after all.

  Money bought him everything he wanted.

  Dennis Lee had a lot of it now.

  A news bulletin broke into the screen on the tv in the corner. Dennis Lee had never liked the quiet. He just about always had the tv on anymore.

  He hadn’t liked the quiet since his wife had died so violently back all those years ago. He still heard her screams in his sleep.

  He distracted himself with the news report.

  Mayor Barratt was on the center of the screen, the chief of the TSP and the head of the hospital flanking him. “At eleven-thirty this morning, Patrol Officer Kelsie Royce succumbed to complications related to her second surgery. At this time, we don’t believe the man who shot her was working alone. I want to assure everyone in this office that I have made it my personal mission to see to it the ones responsible will be found and made to face justice for what they are doing to the people of our city.”

  The mayor went on to update the city about the possible criminal element that could still be working in the area, and warned them to be mindful of themselves and take care of their neighbors.

  He knew it was the mayor who’d been putting a crick in some of his neighborhoods lately. He admired the boy’s initiative and guts, but this was Dennis Lee’s city and had been long before this boy had even been a tickle in his daddy’s shorts. Barratt needed put in his place before too long.

/>   Dennis Lee had never been one to do much waiting.

  Dennis Lee thought for a long moment as an idea teased his brain. “Hang on. I think it’s time we arranged a little message for Mayor Turner Barratt. He’s starting to become more of a problem than he’s worth. I’d hate to have to take out a second mayor in two years, after all. I never like to repeat myself if I don’t have to.”

  61

  Today had been a long one. Turner knew it was one he would never forget. He’d lied on camera to protect the life of an innocent young woman, and had done so without flinching.

  Now he just wanted to be alone at his house to think. Trevor had offered to come stay with him tonight, to talk and take his mind off things. Turner had almost taken him up on that offer, but had decided that it was better for his brother to stay with Houghton.

  With Delancey McKellen, rather.

  He wanted as many people he trusted around her as possible.

  Turner knew he had screwed up with that decision the instant the two men shot out at him from his own driveway. He hadn’t seen them until then. At first, he’d thought it was his brother and cousin. That something had happened to Delancey—or the nurse who was staying with her for a few more hours.

  It was time, he and Elliot agreed, to challenge the bastards running the criminal ring publicly. That was Turner’s role in all of this.

  He was starting to think today hadn’t exactly been the best day to do that.

  One of the sons-of-bitches lunged at him. Turner was ready, braced, and going to give even better than he got.

  A fist slammed into his face, and Turner’s eye exploded with pain. He grabbed his attacker’s head, ripping the face mask from the other man.

  Who wore a damned face mask in Texas in August? Someone who was seriously up to no good. Turner wasn’t going to die today. There were only two of them, and both were smaller than Turner.

  And he hadn’t exactly been raised to be a pansy-assed wimp.

  He’d routinely gotten the crap beaten out of him by wrestling with his brothers and cousins as kids. Houghton and Alex would often gang up on him and Mac just for the hell of it. Tucker and Porter, almost a decade younger than Turner, hadn’t stood a chance against the two older cousins, either. Turner, Trevor, and Hendrix would have to step in to protect their younger brothers when needed.

  He ducked when the smaller one came at him again.

  No one grew up with his cousin Clay and didn’t learn how to fight back, either. Clay had insisted on it, giving all of the boys instructions while in the midst of the fights each time.

  And then Clay had taken little Powell out whenever he could and taught her how to protect herself, too.

  Turner shoved his own fist down the taller guy’s throat. His knee caught the other in the gut.

  After that, it was on.

  Turner kept going, until someone shouted. The smaller guy rolled, then climbed to his feet. He took off toward the street behind Turner’s property.

  The other guy was gone when Turner turned around.

  “Who the hell did you piss off this time, Turn?”

  Turner rolled to his back and cursed. A face very similar to his own stared down at him. It was like he’d come out of nowhere. In the nick of time. His youngest brother stared down at him, eyes filled with concern. “I haven’t got a damned clue. But someone’s using the city and the storm to fill their damned pockets.”

  He took his younger brother’s hand and let Tucker help him to his feet. Every muscle, joint, nerve, and cell in his body protested.

  Tucker gave a more colorful curse than Turner’s and grabbed Turner when he listed to the left. “Only place you’re going is to the ER. I got my car outside the gate.”

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” Turner said. To hell with manly pride, it hurt to even walk or breathe right now. Time for yet another trip to FCGH. He was about to set up residence in the basement there, or something. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

  “I came home early. Finley Creek is home. Trev called this morning. I heard Clay was missing for a while, you were trapped, Powell was hurt, Mac lost his house, and Alex and Uncle Mason lost their place of business. I figured I was needed here more than in California. Looks like I got here just in time.” Tucker led the way to his car. “Let’s get you to the ER.”

  “Finley Creek General. I have friends there. Trev’s at Houghton’s.”

  “Whatever. I just want someone to look at your face. You always did have a glass jaw. And you suck at fistfights. You always have.”

  Turner let his younger brother load him into the car, then pulled out his phone. Signal was finally mostly reliable again. He dialed Elliot’s number as his younger brother drove through the still mostly unrecognizable streets of Finley Creek.

  62

  Annie still didn’t know how to put into words how unsettled she still felt. She’d returned to the hospital an hour before her shift ended—she and Jillian had been on staggered shifts that morning—and busied herself in Izzie’s room when Wanda gave her a look and told her to take all her breaks at once. Wanda, at least, knew something had happened.

  Izzie had taken one look at her and started talking about Reggie Henedy. She’d thought he had been what had upset her so much. That…meeting with Reggie had happened hours ago.

  It really had been a horrifically long day today.

  “I’m heading out in an hour. It’s been a long day. I’ll get your dinner tray before I do.” Normally, dietary services handled that task, but it was as good an excuse as any for her to take a moment to herself.

  Today had not been anything at all like an ordinary day.

  “Then bring me some damned pudding, will you? Chocolate. None of that so-called rice stuff Martha likes to put on the trays. There has to be some of that pudding Nik ordered somewhere.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Good. And Ann? Try not to freak out too much because of that guy. He didn’t seem that bad. Just a little confused. Like all the rest of us.” She glanced toward the windowsill. There were flowers and balloons—some from people Izzie didn’t even know—everywhere on the window frame and the area surrounding it. “We both know how it sucks in the days after our fathers do something to change the whole world. I don’t know why it should be all that much easier for a man his age.”

  “We were children when our fathers did…what they did. He’s a grown man. We had no one really to help us. Except Jake.” She’d been thirteen. Jake would have been around twenty-seven or twenty-eight when her father had been arrested. But Jake had been there. For her.

  She’d never forget that.

  Worry for him had her stomach clenching tightly. Anything could have happened to him. Anything. She still saw Delancey McKellen in her mind right now. The fear in her eyes.

  Anything could be happening to Jake right now. Someone in the TSP was dangerous. A criminal. Who knew what would happen next? How much a part of her family Jake was wasn’t lost on her. Fear was starting to eat at her. For all of them—Delancey, Jake…Turner.

  He was right in the public eye. And she’d heard Daniel and Elliot discussing just that. Turner was putting himself there—on purpose. To draw attention in his direction, while Elliot and Daniel worked in another.

  He’d done it willingly.

  The fear for Jake was in Izzie’s eyes, too. She kept asking for her phone—wanting to text him herself. Annie wouldn’t let her have it. Not yet.

  The lack of response would drive Izzie crazy.

  Her friend was like that. When she got worried about something, she became almost obsessive. Until she had all answers she sought.

  “I have to go, Iz. Behave. Don’t give Angie and the others any trouble. If you behave, the chocolate pudding will magically appear.”

  “I feel like one of the boys, being bribed with a pudding cup and cartoons.”

  “As long as you don’t act like one of the boys in a time-out, I’ll get you two cups.”

 
; “Go. You don’t want to be late clocking out. Who’s on tonight?”

  “Hmmm. Jacobson’s taking Lacy’s shift tonight. She wasn’t feeling well. She showed up, obviously, but Allen was here and ordered her home; he’s going to work a double, I think. Nik’s here somewhere, but she was asleep in the breakroom at eleven this morning. She’s green around the gills. I wouldn’t be surprised if Allen doesn’t send her home, as well.”

  “Still not taking anything?”

  “No. Fighting with all she can.” Nikkie Jean had been on heavy antiemetics as a teenager stricken with ovarian cancer. She was determined not to take them with her miracle pregnancy. Annie didn’t necessarily know if that was a good idea, but she respected Nikkie Jean’s choices. “And she says Allen, Caine, and Rafe are conspiring against her.”

  “No doubt. I think Caine actually likes Dr. Jacobson.”

  “Crazy, right? Considering Allen was ready to storm in there and rescue Nikkie Jean with his bare hands that day. Nikkie Jean and you. He does seem to have a habit of doing that. Being there when you need rescued. Doesn’t he?”

  He did. It wasn’t the first time Allen—he would always be Allen to her after carrying an almost-gone Izzie from danger—had risked himself to save Izzie.

  There was the entire story of how they’d ridden out the tornado together. It was already the stuff of hospital legend.

  But Izzie refused to talk about that.

  Sometimes, her best friends were the most exasperating people on the planet. She just thanked God she still had them to be annoyed with. It had come so close.

  Annie was having a hard time forgetting that. She’d be seeing a blood-covered Izzie in her dreams for a long, long time, no doubt.

  Annie was thinking of that as she walked down toward the intake desk. She’d clock out, then get out of the hospital for a while. Spend the time with her boys that she so desperately needed.

  They just had to get through. Izzie would get back on her feet, Nikkie Jean would settle in with her handsome dragon, Annie would find a place for herself and the boys, and everything would even out again. Life would go on.