“You’ve got no idea what drug that is?” Boone asked.
The doctor shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “I’ve sent your sister’s bloodwork off, but my guess is a sleeping drug of some sort. I couldn’t wake her up at all, no matter how hard I tried. We could counteract the drug, but I worry about her seizing, and she doesn’t seem to be in any distress. We’ll keep a close eye on her, though.”
“Thank you.” Boone offered his hand.
The doctor returned the handshake. “Feel free to reach out if you need anything else during the investigation. Your father is in with your sister now. Peyton’s awake, if you’d like to see her.”
Boone nodded and moved toward the doorway that the doctor had exited. He stopped right before he entered, freezing on the spot. He had seen many things that had disturbed him over the years, but none quite like Peyton lying in the hospital bed, bruises already forming on her arms, one shadowing her cheek. He leaned against the doorframe, the antiseptic scents filling the air around him, as did the beeps coming from the monitors in the room with her.
“Boone.”
He blinked at the softness in Peyton’s voice, realizing she was looking right at him. Needing to get closer, pulled by all the things he didn’t really understand or could explain, he immediately closed the distance and took a seat on her bed, gently taking her hands in his. “You were so brave today.” He kissed the top of her palm. “So fucking brave.”
When he glanced into her eyes again, she looked so damn tired, with dark circles under her eyes. “I stabbed him,” she choked out, her voice trembling.
“That was you, then?”
She nodded, her chin quivering. “Did I—”
Boone shook his head, kissing the top of her hand before addressing her again. “We didn’t find him. His left a trail of blood outside of your house that led into the forest then to tire tracks near the road.” Which was what he learned from Rhett a half an hour ago. “They’d brought in the station’s bloodhound to follow the trail, but that hadn’t gone anywhere. As far as I know, they’re still out there looking for him, and running DNA on his blood.”
Peyton blew out a long, deep breath and dropped her head back onto the pillow. “Is it horrible to say that I’m actually glad I didn’t kill him?”
“No, it’s not horrible,” he told her softly, unable to move away from her, desperate for the warmth of her touch. “You save lives, not take them.”
She shut her eyes a moment. “I was so scared.” His fingers tightened, wanting to keep her away from all this as her voice shook. “I thought he was going to kill us.”
Boone hated that he needed to ask anything now, but he wouldn’t let this fucker get away, not this time. “Did you get a look at him?”
She finally opened her eyes, tears welling. “He had a black mask on, but I remember his eyes. Icy blue. Cold. Dead.”
“That’s something.” He squeezed her hands harder, wishing he could take her into his arms, but he worried that if he did, he’d hold her too hard and hurt her. “And something is better than nothing.” He stared at her in the bed, thinking that, if he’d caught the bastard sooner, Peyton wouldn’t be lying there hurting.
Her soft hand came to his face then. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He snorted, bowing his head over her hands. He could only recall once in his life where everything unraveled like it did today. His lips pressed against her soft skin, smelling of vanilla and her. “When I watched my wife being arrested, I thought that would be the worst I would ever feel. But that pales in comparison to what I felt when I saw you lying on your kitchen floor.”
“Boone,” Peyton whispered, raw emotion in her voice. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t want to fail Peyton like he’d failed Chelsea. He wasn’t fucking good at this. And yet…and yet…his heart reached for her desperately, making him want to offer things he wasn’t sure he could promise. “I can’t lose you, Peyton.”
She sat up, drawing his gaze to hers, and said firmly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
He rose up and kissed her. Gently, but wanting to do the exact opposite. Emotion leaked into the air between them. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her, including telling her about his talk with Chelsea, and about the closure he felt in those minutes before the world fell apart around him. He wanted to explain how he felt when he saw her lying there, thinking he lost her. But all those things seemed impossible to put into words.
A sudden knock came at the door, forcing him to lean away, and Remy peeked her head in. “Hi. Can I interrupt?”
“Of course,” Boone said, then turned to Peyton, brushing her hair off her face and tucking it around her ear. “I need to go see Kinsley.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her eyes watery. “Go. Kinsley needs you too.”
“I won’t be long,” he told her.,
He pressed a kiss against her forehead, then turned away, fighting against everything inside of himself that told him to go back to her.
Remy gave him a sweet smile as he reached her. “I won’t leave to visit Kinsley until you get back.”
“Thank you.” He pressed a hand to her shoulder, then moved to the door. When he reached it, he glanced back, finding Remy and Peyton hugging.
She had good friends here. He had good friends here. This was their life, and damn, did he want to protect it.
He exited the room and said to the two armed police officers, “Do not leave this door. Do not leave her alone.” Boone wasn’t taking any chances. He had suspicions before and that almost got Peyton and Kinsley killed. Now they were staying close to him.
“No one will get through us,” Cary, a cop a few years younger than Boone, said.
“Thank you.” Boone nodded, then strode away down the hallway, seeing his father waiting outside Kinsley’s room, sitting on a plastic chair in the hallway. “Is Kinsley okay?”
“She’s awake now. She’s showering, getting the blood out of her hair.” His dad patted the seat next to him. “Take a breather for minute.”
Boone dropped down, leaning his head back against the wall and letting out a long sigh. Originally, he thought this had to do with Lauren Francis. Then he thought perhaps Peyton had caught the eye of a psychopath. Now he began to believe that someone wanted her dead. And this person coming after her was no schmuck. This attack was planned, right down to what he’d do with Kinsley. Though drugging her, and not killing her, only firmed up the assumption that someone was targeting Peyton. And that truth haunted Boone. The last thing he wanted to do was unravel, but he felt coiled, ready to snap. Fuck, if Peyton hadn’t grabbed that knife…if she hadn’t fought back as hard as she did…“I’m going to kill this fucker.”
“No, you won’t,” his father said calmly. “But you’ll put him behind bars, because that’s what we do for the people we love.”
Boone turned his head, lifting an eyebrow at his dad.
His father chuckled softly. “You think I don’t see what that girl means to you?” He paused to run a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp. “I guess the next question is, whatcha gonna do about it, kid?”
Boone didn’t bother playing coy, he knew exactly what his father was getting at. “I’m not good at this,” Boone finally said. “I don’t want…” He hesitated, then dropped his head and admitted, “I don’t want Peyton to ever look at me like Chelsea did. I failed at all this once. Peyton is going through so much. I want her to have a husband, and a long, happy life, without more pain.”
“She’s not the only one who’s been through a lot, Boone,” Hank said. “But this woman, she’s different, and you know that.” He cupped Boone’s shoulder, the warmth of his touch battling against the chill in Boone’s chest. “It’s time to stop letting your mother and Chelsea ruin everything, son.” He gave him a gentle smile, then glanced down the hallway; Boone followed his gaze to find Rhett and Asher approaching. Boone turned back as his father said, “Peyton, she’s where
it’s at.” Hank rose. “I’ll go grab us some coffees.” He strode off and said something to Rhett and Asher before heading down the hallway.
Boone exhaled slowly through his mouth. Catch the bastard. Everything else can be figured out later.
Refocused, he rose as his friends reached him. “The girls okay?” Rhett asked.
“Both are awake and fine,” Boone reported. “I’m waiting to see Kinsley now. She’s showering.”
“Glad to hear that,” Asher said.
Rhett nodded agreement.
Boone leaned against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Please tell me you have something for us to go on,” he said to Asher.
Asher took a seat on one of the plastic chairs next to Boone, stretching out his legs. “We received the files from Adam Kerr’s car accident. I examined most of what was there, but had others look too. There’s nothing there that points to the accident being anything more than an accident.”
Not surprising. Boone turned to Rhett, who leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms folded. “And you?”
Rhett shook his head with a deep frown. “Nothing new to report.”
Boone cursed and rubbed his hands over his face. “What about video surveillance on the SUV? Anything from a gas station? A location on the road of the accident?”
“We’ve got one recording of the SUV passing a gas station,” Asher explained, “but the only thing you can make out is a male in the driver’s seat. His face isn’t clearly shown.”
One step forward. Ten steps back. “This is too clean. Too organized. Too smart.” Boone contemplated all this, making sure he missed nothing. “I know you said her past is clean, but what about Justin Blake?”
“Last night, he was at Whiskey Blues at the time of the accident,” Rhett reported, his gaze following a pretty nurse that strode by. “This morning, he flew to Boston.” He focused back on Boone. “Again, though, I couldn’t find a damn thing on him. He’s rich and well known in Seattle. Good reputation.” His cell phone beeped, and he looked at the screen before adding, “He’s not our attacker.”
Boone turned to Asher. “Anything from Peyton’s house?”
“We’ve got the blood samples,” Asher said. “No hits on that so far.”
Boone scrubbed his face again, trying to get his thoughts together. “So, we’ve got a man who broke into Peyton’s house. Drugged Kinsley to knock her out, likely because she was not the target. And he intended to finish the job with Peyton but she almost bled him out, so he retreated. We’ve got an obviously trained killer. Maybe military?”
Asher nodded. “It’s a possibility. This guy isn’t sloppy.” He rubbed at his neck muscles, then added, “He got into Peyton’s house easily, without either of them noticing.”
Yeah, Boone didn’t like that one bit. “Any word from the doctors here?” Boone asked. “With that injury, he’d need help.”
“Nothing from the doctors here at the hospital,” Asher said. “Or doctors’ offices. Hell, I even have calls out to the vet clinics. If he’s getting help, we’ll know about it.”
“I put out some calls to our informants,” Rhett reported. “There’s been no word on the street about anyone needing medical attention. There’s a good chance this guy’s dead.”
“He’s not,” Boone said, without a doubt in his mind.
Neither Rhett nor Asher questioned him. Boone’s instincts were usually spot on—they all trusted in that. Still, Boone felt it in his gut. The guy would come back, which was why Boone had units outside every entrance at the hospital. “This guy, whoever he is, is determined to see this through,” Boone said, speaking his frustration. “Why the fuck is he hunting her?”
Both Asher and Rhett frowned as their answer.
Boone exhaled a long, deep breath. “We need to stop him. And we need to do it soon. He’s going to get desperate.”
“Boone.”
His head jerked sideways to find Kinsley standing at the doorway. She wore a T-shirt and yoga pants that their dad had obviously brought for her, and her hair was wet from her shower and she had stitches on the side of her head. “Kinsley,” he said, emotion tightening his throat.
Her chin quivered and he didn’t wait. He lurched to his feet and grabbed her, hugging her as she burst into tears.
He held her for many, many minutes…until she leaned away. “The fucker drugged me,” she snapped. “I felt the needle in my neck, but by the time I reached for the gun, I must have fallen.”
Before Boone could respond, Rhett said, “You went for your gun. You did damn good, Kinsley.”
His baby sister smiled at Rhett. “Thanks.”
Boone turned to his friend and raised an eyebrow at maybe the first compliment Rhett had ever given anyone.
“What?” Rhett asked gruffly. “I’m feeling generous today.”
Laughter filled the hallway. Good laughter. The kind that reminded Boone of something his father said. There were always good times in the dark moments. Boone smiled and kissed the top of Kinsley’s head. No matter what, he always needed to find them.
Chapter 15
Late into that night, Peyton slowly opened her eyes, finding the room quiet, and Boone gone from the chair he’d been sitting in. Outside her door, she saw the uniformed officer waiting there, and felt a whole lot safer knowing he had a weapon holstered to his waist. God, she hurt, from her toes right up to her head.
In the silence of the room, she remembered the fear when she spotted the man in her house, thinking she would die. And in that moment, she realized how much she wanted to live. She wanted to grow old, have children, and see those children have children. She wanted to sit on the porch of her lake house, holding the hand of the man she loved, looking back on her life.
For the first time in a year, she didn’t want to feel bad about wanting those dreams. She knew she only had this one life. That was it. She had loved Adam. But her heart was big enough to love two men in her lifetime.
A soft cough caught Peyton’s attention, and her gaze found Kinsley sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, a handful of stitches on the side of her forehead.
“I know,” Kinsley said with a small smile. “I’ve got this whole sitting on your bed stalker thing going on.”
Peyton laughed softly, but her smile faded at the emotion in Kinsley’s eyes. “Where’s Boone?”
“He went to get a coffee,” Kinsley said. “There are three cops outside the door.”
Boone must be tired. Remy had left a few hours ago, promising to return tomorrow morning. “You okay?” she asked Kinsley, noting her shallow breaths.
Kinsley’s lips pinched as she nodded. “Except for some stitches where my head hit the countertop, I’m fine.” She paused. Then, “Well, fine now that the drugs wore off.”
“You were drugged?” Peyton’s stomach tightened, remembering when she’d found Kinsley lying in a pool of her blood, thinking she’d been murdered. “Do they know what kind of drug was used?”
“I guess they’re testing my blood now,” Kinsley explained with a shrug. “But they also found a needle mark in the back of my neck, which is so fucking creepy.” She gave her another smile, though the warmth never reached her eyes. “Kind of makes me wish I hadn’t been wearing a ponytail this morning.” Something unfamiliar crossed Kinsley’s expression then, her eyes troubled. “I remember the needle prick, then diving for my purse…” She drew in a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I wasn’t fast enough.” Her voice hitched.
Peyton pushed off the mattress, fighting against her sore muscles and aching bruises and had her arms around her before Kinsley could say another word. Kinsley trembled. Peyton was shaking too. But only one truth remained. “We’re okay now, and that’s all that matters.” Boone also seemed to be playing the blame game, but that was going to get them nowhere except feeling terrible for all the things they couldn’t change.
Kinsley sniffed, and the hug lasted awhile. When she eventually leaned away, her eyes were watery. “That w
as really scary,” she whispered.
Peyton nodded, holding on to Kinsley’s hands, tears blurring her vision. “So, so scary. But we won today. Nothing else matters but that.”
“You’re right, you did win. Dad said you stabbed the fucker.”
It all seemed like a dream now. “I don’t really remember what happened, to be honest.” Yeah, she knew she stabbed him, but everything seemed hazy, stuck behind a cloud she couldn’t quite cross. “But I do remember the knife in his leg.” And that she’d put it there, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Sure, she hadn’t had a choice, but hurting someone went against her core beliefs. “Unless he got to a hospital and fast, he wouldn’t have survived that wound.”
Kinsley snorted. “Unless the prick could fix it himself.”
“That’s doubtful—” Peyton froze at Kinsley’s knowing look, then sputtered, “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Nothing really.” Kinsley gave another shrug. “My dad just told me that by looking at the scene and what you told Boone earlier, he thought it sounded like the guy knew what he was doing.”
Peyton absorbed that information, finding it impossible to believe. “Like a professional killer or something?”
Kinsley nodded softly, squeezing Peyton’s hands. “That’s what my dad thought.”
“But that doesn’t sound like some rando guy on a killing spree,” Peyton said, not even able to process what that meant.
“I know,” Kinsley said. “It’s all crazy. Everyone is trying to understand the situation.”
Peyton stared into the concern in Kinsley’s expression, not understanding any of this. Every step they took forward only seemed to bring more questions. “I don’t understand why this is happening to me. I don’t understand why any of this has happened. Or what I did to make any of this happen.”
“You don’t deserve any of this. Not a single part of it.” Kinsley shifted forward until she was lying on her side, sharing the pillow with Peyton, still holding Peyton’s hand. “Dad, Boone, and the guys are on this. Believe me, Boone will make sure he catches this fucking snake.”
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