He dropped to the ground, rolled under the chassis, and shouted, “There’s another gunman out there.”
Chapter 12
Reagan’s heart raced, she tasted acid and bile sloshed in her belly. The scent of blood filled the air as she hunkered at the bottom of the passenger seats with Eric and Angela.
“Thank God you’re okay,” Angela whispered. “Who the hell is doing this to us?”
“I don’t know,” Reagan said. “But Brent’s been protecting me ever since I arrived at Eagle Point.”
“Were you threatened before you came here?” Eric asked, his face as white as the snow falling outside.
“No. But my brother…” She swallowed down the sick feeling rising in her throat as memories of another blood bath surged. “He didn’t want me to do the live shows. I guess he was right to hire Brent, but I sure wish he’d told me.” Then she wouldn’t have hopped into the sack with Brent like a giddy schoolgirl or, even better, she’d have gone into the affair with her eyes wide open and her heart barricaded with steel.
And now he could be dead because he’d protected her.
Another man giving up his life, so she could live. Renewed guilt flooded her brain, making her eyes swim with unshed tears. “If he dies, I…”
“You can’t blame yourself.” Her director moved closer and together, the three held on to each other while a flurry of shouting and gunfire cut through the night air.
Beneath the floorboard, hidden from her view, the man she’d grown to like way too much for her own good lay bleeding. A razor like sensation scraped the inside of her throat. Old wounds, self-recriminations, flared through her nerves. She edged back toward the door and pressed down the handle.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Eric demanded.
“I have to try to save Brent. I won’t let another person die because of me,” Reagan said after several tense seconds. “I can’t live through that again.” Then she carefully opened the latched door and half-crawled out of the truck to crouch beside the back wheel.
She peered under the chassis, didn’t see Brent. Her heart thudded dully in her ears as she registered the blood smearing the ground amidst the telltale signs of handprints showing how he’d dragged himself out.
And footprints. Adrenaline pinged like a thousand pricks over her skin, raising every hair on her body. Quickly, she turned to check the surrounding area. The sound of gunfire had moved into the trees beyond the truck and she heard Brent’s voice before she saw another familiar shape come into view.
Owen Davidson stepped out of the woods with a gun in his hand with the barrel trained directly on her. “Don’t make another move or I’ll shoot her,” he said calmly as he walked toward Reagan.
Behind him, just to the left, she spotted Brent propped against an evergreen pine. He shook his head, warning her to keep her gaze away from him and on Owen.
She glanced back at her former competitor as the wind swirled snow around her, slapped against her body and cheeks.
But the frigid air seemed positively like island paradise hot compared to the Owen’s cold, icy gray stare. “Why?” she asked through chattering lips. “I thought we were friends.”
“You thought wrong.” Owen closed the remaining distance between them, standing within a foot of her. “Stand up,” he said, jostling his weapon toward her.
“You’re supposed to be in New York,” she said, obeying his command. “How did you get back so fast?”
“I never left.”
“But someone saw you arrive home,” she said.
“They saw a decoy. Someone I hired months ago to play a part for me. He’s a dead ringer.”
Another movement behind him distracted her. Brent making his way over to another stand of trees located perpendicularly to the truck.
Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cold, winter air. She couldn’t let Owen figure out that she still had an ace up her sleeve. But she’d have to play every card trick she had in her arsenal to win this deadly game.
“You always were an excellent planner,” she said, mustering a calm facade. “Doesn’t mean I know why you’d do this to me.”
“Couple of reasons. One. I deserved to win and two.” He held the gun higher. “I needed the prize money for my restaurants when I did.”
More heat flashed behind her ribs, bringing another wash of sweat into her extremities. Confusion warred with the panic still pinging along her nerves. “You’re one of the top chefs in New York,” she said, keeping her entire focus on him though she continued to see movement in the trees with her peripheral vision. She had to keep Owen talking to give Brent time to get to her. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes. I am. I should have won that fucking competition.”
Not according to the viewers and Angela. Angela and the rest of the crew wanted her because she was relatable, accessible to the audience they were targeting. Plus she had a compelling story of overcoming a major tragedy and doing better than surviving. She saved her parents’ restaurant during lean economic times with innovative, accessible recipes. She brought a wealth of life experiences to the table that Owen could never bring. Still, she tamped down the rage boiling in her cells.
“You’re definitely a better cook than me.” She hugged her waist, acted like she was cold and slipped her hands inside her pockets. After what had happened in the cabin, she’d begun carrying a concealed surprise as extra backup. “I agree,” Reagan said, wrapping her hand around the portable mace. Now she only needed to catch the bastard off guard and get close enough to make the stuff effective in bringing him down.
“What you think doesn’t matter anymore.”
The howling wind made talking difficult, but it also concealed Brent’s steady approach from the rear toward Owen. “Why not? If it’s the show you want, then I’ll step aside.” Not really, but she’d say anything to keep this jerk’s monster sized ego happy at this point.
“Your offer is about a year too late.” He waved the gun a bit wildly. “Frankly, you stole that show from me. If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have needed to get the loan from that money shark. So you have no one to blame for this but yourself.”
Anger bubbled inside her. She’d been blaming herself for a lot of things, but this shithead didn’t deserve to win the show at all. “Why is it too late? You could just get the money now. Plus, you stole my wedding bands. Why? To hock them for more money?” She popped the top off the can she held, still hiding it from view.
He sneered. “Those rings couldn’t come close to covering my losses.”
“Then why’d you steal them? They meant nothing to you.”
“Those fucking rings bought you the show,” he said, waving the gun again. “Every time you twisted those bands around your finger, you got the audience’s attention. They bought your pity me act hook, line and sinker.”
Anger resurfaced when she registered his vile, vindictive words. The bastard had no concept of loss, grief. But she didn’t show her disgust, knowing the stakes facing her. And Brent. “If you’re so broke, how’d you fund this crazy operation?”
“After I got myself in over my head with my expansions, I ran into trouble with a loan shark and he offered me a deal I couldn’t resist.”
She swallowed down the renewed acid in her throat. “What kind of deal?”
“Turns out your brother killed the wrong man when he busted that cartel in Virginia. That guy had connections to a terrorist group that depended on the funds the heroin would bring them. So… an eye for an eye and all that jazz.” He raised the gun, cocked the trigger. “I get out of debt and a debt is repaid with your blood.”
Brent had one shot remaining. Thankfully, Reagan had kept the idiot talking long enough to give him time to get within reach of making a direct hit. Still, a part of him wanted to strangle her for leaving the safety of the truck’s interior cabin.
But time had run out. He fired his weapon as Reagan rushed Owen and sprayed the bastard with mace befo
re diving to grab the weapon the jerk released. Owen dropped to his knees, clutching his face with one hand as the mace worked its magic on him, burning his eyes. The other he had on his side, holding back the flow of blood from the bullet wound.
“Bitch.” He flailed his arms and struck Reagan before she could reach the weapon. “You fucking bitch.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” she yelled, kicking him in the chest. “Never mess with a former tomboy, asshole.”
Brent ignored the shooting pain in his thigh, the pressure of the tourniquet he’d belted around it earlier stemming the flow of blood. Sheets of sleet mingled with the snow swirling around him. He raced to Owen who crouched on the ground, groping for the gun and screaming curses.
He tackled the bleeding man. “Get the gun,” he yelled to Reagan. “Then get back to the truck.”
“Got it.”
Owen twisted out of Brent’s grip, lunged for Reagan and caught one ankle, tripping her. “You’re not going anywhere.” He punched her legs, her back, but she scissor-kicked her way out of his pummeling hands.
White hot heat blazed behind Brent’s breastbone, propelling him forward to wrestle Owen away from her. Holding him in a headlock, he pinned the man to the ground with his knee. He reached for the plastic tie grips in his pocket and tossed a pair to Reagan. “Secure his ankles. I’ll get his wrists.”
She knelt and locked the flailing legs together. “Where are the other men?” she asked.
“One’s down, but still alive. The other’s got the second shooter locked down until reinforcements arrive.”
Snowmobiles engines roared in the distance, the sounds echoing closer as they came into view. Within minutes, they circled the broken sleigh, truck and sleigh driver, who had the horses under control. One man levered off a still idling machine and walked toward them.
“Good thing the damned cell phone towers kicked into gear before this mess blew in off the mountain,” Hank Patterson said as he kneeled next to Brent. “He’s got some serious injuries.”
“He’ll survive long enough to go to trial and spend a time in prison.” Brent had no sympathy for the coward whimpering beneath his knee. “You got transportation lined up to get this asshole and your man to the hospital in Bozeman?”
“Yep,” Hank said, then turned to one of his men. “Get the medics here to load this guy into one of the rescue toboggans.”
“Will do.”
Brent switched places with the Brotherhood Protector, letting him take care of the man he’d captured. Then, he tried to stand, only to collapse to the ground again.
“Brent.” Reagan knelt beside him, cradled his head, then looked at Hank. “They shot him in the leg. I think it’s a lot worse than he’s letting on.”
Hank joined her, waved to another man carrying a medical bag. “Doctor will take a look at him. Make sure he’s okay.”
The doctor rushed over and, after examining Brent’s injury, said, “That’s one nasty wound you’ve got there. Most likely the bullet punctured an artery.”
“Do you have enough rescue toboggans to get him out of here?” Reagan asked, her voice wavering.
Hank shook his head. “He’ll have to ride to the ranch in the truck.” He indicated toward the sleigh driver. “Snag all the blankets and we’ll settle him in the back.”
“I’m riding with him.”
His breath temporarily bottled in his chest and a floating sensation permeated through his fuzzy brain. Maybe she hadn’t completely kicked him out of her heart. “You’ll freeze,” Brent said, black spots entering his vision.
“I’m the reason you’re hurt. There’s no way I’m leaving you alone.”
“You’ll need to get med-evacuated along with other men after we get to Eagle Point Ranch,” the doctor said. “I’d ride with him, but your man is in grave danger.”
“Understood,” Hank said. “Let’s get him loaded before the storm cuts off our route to the ranch.”
Two more of Hank’s men lifted Brent and carried him to the truck. After loading the back with blankets and activating thermal heating packs, they drove through the storm to head back to the ranch.
She got down beside Brent, held him, lending him her body heat. The warmth she offered and the gleam in her gaze brought another surge of hope into his veins. Maybe he did have a chance with Reagan after all. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about why I was here right away,” he said. “You’re so much more than a client and guarding you meant protecting a possible future together too.”
Her beautiful blue eyes swam with tears. “You were just carrying out orders,” she said. “I forgive you, but we can’t worry about the future yet. Just focus on getting better.”
A niggle of doubt wove through him. She forgave him, but why wouldn’t she go to the next level? Before he could ask her to give him another chance or if he even had one with her, his vision blurred, and he struggled to maintain consciousness.
“Reagan, stay with me.”
“I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay,” she whispered against his mouth, tears tracking down her wind slapped cheeks, the drops ice cold as they landed on his face.
“If you really do forgive me, then know that I will do everything in my power to prove you made the right decision to stick with me. Maybe we can have the family we want one day too.”
She inhaled a shuddering breath, swiped the tears tracking down her face away. “You’ll have everything you deserve, but…”
His vision blurred before she could finish speaking and then everything went black.
Chapter 13
Though Brent’s words warmed her more than any blanket or thermal pack, Reagan’s veins still ran cold. She feared his injury could kill him, but even worse, she hadn’t told him everything he needed to know about her. About the family she couldn’t give him.
She’d wait until he got through this ordeal before she told him why she couldn’t be with him in a permanent way. Not just because of his job, but because she couldn’t give him the future he craved.
After arriving at the ranch, then enduring the helicopter ride to Bozeman’s City Hospital, she paced the floor in the waiting room. “What’s taking so long?” she asked Delaney.
“It’s only been an hour. Half that time is prep for surgery. Don’t worry,” Delaney said reassuringly. “He’s going to be fine. Then you can move forward.”
Delaney had already given her some information about Brent’s line of work after she’d contacted her brother Ben in California with the news. “He’ll just go on another secret mission,” she said. “I’m not the right woman for him.” And that’s the excuse she’d clung to for several days after he’d revealed the truth to her about why he’d turned up at Eagle Point. But her secret weighed in more heavily on her decision to let him go.
“Life is messy, but you know better than anyone that it doesn’t come with a guarantee,” Delaney said.
“True.” After all, her husband had been an insurance adjuster and he’d died almost instantly in a crazy hit and run crash. Now she knew the truth. No one was to blame for his death except the drug dealer her brother had chased through the Virginia mountains on that fateful day.
“At least I know what Colton’s really doing in Italy.” His wife’s winery had been transformed into another secret headquarters for Covert Rescuers’ Undercover Shield and he commanded the European branch.
And she’d learned that from her friend in Virginia. That Saxon Vineyards owner and operator, Alexandra Saxon, commanded an entire underground secret agency fighting for justice still blew Reagan’s mind.
Now, despite discovering everything she’d been cleared to know, she still had to make one of the toughest decisions of her life. She couldn’t choose to stay with Brent and see where this thing between them was going. Not without depriving him of a family too.
She’d already fallen half in love him and she hadn’t factored that into her life plans. Letting him go wouldn’t be easy, but she’d survived worse.
So, when she walked into the recovery room to see him for the first time, she made her final decision. Taking the seat beside his bed, she took his hand and held it. “How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like I got hit by a train,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“Here,” she said. “Drink this.” She raised the water cup the nurse had left for him to sip on.
After he finished drinking. He held her eyes with those sexy, whiskey-colored eyes. “Thanks for staying. For giving me another chance.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them after a long pause. Why did saying goodbye to this man hurt so much? “I don’t regret being with you, but Brent, this thing between us can’t go anywhere. Not really.”
“Why not? Other agents get married, have families. I know there’s a danger element, and you’ve suffered a lot after your husband died, but I’m pretty motivated to stay alive.”
She wrapped her shoulders with determination. “Yes, I did. But I didn’t just lose my husband in the crash,” she said. “I lost my baby.”
He sat straighter despite the IV hooked to his arm and reached for her. “God. I’m sorry. I am.”
Reagan didn’t let him touch her. Couldn’t or she’d falter. “So am I. But I’ve got a good life now. The show. My restaurant. Friends.”
“You could have more. You could have me. There’s no reason you can’t have a family one day.” He gripped her hand. “Reagan. You’re the first woman who’s touched me in places I forgot I still had. You made me come alive again. There’s no reason why we can’t try to make a family if this heat, attraction… this need between us leads to something more.”
“I wish I could tell you yes, let’s go for it, but I can’t,” she said, choking back tears. “My injuries were so severe that when I miscarried, my parts took a beating. I had a partial hysterectomy. I can’t get pregnant, let alone carry a child to term. I refuse to let you get involved with me when you clearly want children. I won’t deprive you of that.”
Tempted By Her Rescuer: Brotherhood Protectors World Page 10