Acceptable Risk

by Lynette Eason

  “Naive? I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that before.” Was he? He knew it was a sad fact that not everyone loved their children, but he didn’t get that from the general. Quite the opposite, actually.

  “Just because you have a great relationship with your father,” she said, “doesn’t mean everyone does.”

  “What makes you think my relationship is great with him?”

  “The tat.”

  Gavin glanced at his right forearm. A man and young child sat on the end of a dock, fishing lines dipped in the water. They wore matching jerseys with the name Black across the top. “Oh. Okay, yeah, I consider him one of my best friends, but that doesn’t mean I have blinders on. Trust me, your father loves you.”

  She gave a small sigh. “I’m sorry you’ve fallen for his act. I won’t. So, let’s just agree to disagree and figure out what the next step in Plan B is.”

  “Plan B? What’s Plan B and what happened to Plan A?”

  “Plan A is to figure out what truly was going on with Dustin. Plan B is to find Brianne.”

  Okay, apparently this time there was going to be a Plan B.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  After reassuring Caden that she was fine and asking him one more time to try a little harder to find Brianne, the next few hours consisted of naps, food, movies, and watching Gavin pace to the window, then step outside to walk the perimeter—“just to make sure there aren’t any surprises out there.”

  And waiting for Caden to bring news about Brianne.

  Not to mention the nonstop thinking about the fact that her kidnapping may not have been a random terrorist thing due to threats against her father. Truthfully, she wasn’t surprised at the threats—only that it hadn’t happened before now.

  Her brother finally walked in the door and dropped his keys on the foyer table. “I’ve got Brianne’s address. Or I guess I should give Annie the credit. Having the last name helped. She was able to find her, thanks to one of her contacts with the Army’s CID.”

  Sarah blinked. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  She sat up and let her feet drop to the floor. “So, where does she live?”

  “Not too far from here, actually. About a thirty-minute drive.”

  “Do you know anything else about her?”

  “I spoke to her dad. He said she was wounded in Afghanistan about a week before you were kidnapped. Like you, she was shipped home for care here at the VA hospital.”

  “So, she was there.”

  “He said she was, but turns out that the hospital didn’t contact them. Brianne was there for three days before they actually learned she was back from Afghanistan. He said an anonymous caller phoned them, refused to give his name, but told them to get her out of the hospital because it wasn’t safe for her.”

  “What?”

  “Annie ran the number he said the call came from, and it was made from inside the hospital.”

  “Then why would Dr. Kilgore and the nurse deny her presence when it’s very obvious her family knows she was there? And what did the caller mean she wasn’t safe?”

  “Her father didn’t know but said they went to get her and had her admitted to the VA psychiatric ward because she was suicidal. I asked her father if he could think of a reason she wouldn’t be in the system and he had no idea. Said there must be a glitch or something.”

  “Right. A glitch.” Sarah pressed her lips together. “Can they—or we—ask for an investigation into the hospital?”

  “We could, but I’m not sure our argument would be taken seriously. I mean, there could be a very valid excuse why she’s not there. Or if there’s something more sinister behind it, the hospital would just come up with some plausible lie. I’m not saying I want to let them get away with it, should there be something they’re getting away with. I’m just saying I think we need more information to back up your belief that the hospital did something wrong.”

  He was probably right. “So, where’s Brianne now?”

  “Her father said she took a turn for the worse mentally, even as she was healing physically. She started hallucinating and having paranoia.”

  “She was in restraints. She thought they were trying to kill her.”

  Caden nodded. “Her dad said she was in bad shape for the next two days. She was kept sedated, then like I said, was moved to the psych ward. Over the next several days, she got on some different meds, spoke to the psychiatrist twice a day, and seemed to do a complete turnaround. Her outlook was brighter and she was hopeful about going home. In fact, she insisted on it.”

  She’s better off where she is. Maybe that’s all they meant. It made sense. “That fast? I thought it would take longer than that for the meds to make a difference.”

  He shrugged. “Apparently, it’s rare, but not completely unheard of.”

  “Is she still on the psych ward?”

  “No. The doctor said it was fine for her to go home as long as someone was with her at all times. She has a small house on a lake outside of town. Her dad said it was her happy place—a place where she could relax and heal. She has a friend staying with her, but he said she’d probably welcome a fellow vet if you wanted to visit.”

  “I do.” She rubbed her eyes. “Do you have her number?”

  He handed her a piece of paper. “I figured you’d need it.” He glanced at Gavin. “You’re going with her?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Sarah protested.

  “You just got shot at and you’re still recovering,” Gavin said. “If you want to do it on your own, fine, but I’d prefer it if you let me tag along.”

  “Or me,” Caden said with a raised brow, “because you still can’t drive, remember?”

  “No, I keep forgetting that small fact.” Sarah shrugged and looked at Gavin. “Fine. I don’t mind the company, but don’t you have a business you need to be running?”

  “I have people I trust helping me out. And remember, those bullets could have killed me too. I have a personal interest in whatever’s going on.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, then. I’m ready when you are.”

  “We can take my truck.” Gavin stood and pulled his truck keys from his pocket. “She might be scarred, but she still runs like a dream.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Why are trucks always a ‘she’?”

  “Because while they respond well to tender loving care, they can still be high maintenance and temperamental.”

  Caden choked on a snort and Sarah narrowed her eyes. Oh no, he did not just say that. He did. He really did. That was going to cost him. As soon as she could think of an appropriate way to extract payment.

  On the drive across town, Sarah decided that spending several hours on the couch had been a good thing, because at the moment, she had only a slight twinge in her side and her energy level seemed to be sufficient for the visit. Gavin parked his truck on the row of gravel at the top of the sloping front yard. An older model Honda and a newer Toyota sat in the drive to their left. The ranch-style brick home stretched across the middle of the property, and Sarah knew the backyard would extend down to the edge of the lake.

  “Looks like someone’s here,” Gavin said.

  “My mom used to bring us here,” she said softly. “My brothers and me.”

  “Here?”

  “Well, to the public access area. We didn’t have a boat, but we would spend hours swimming and playing in the sand on the beach area.”

  “Not your dad?”

  She grimaced. “The general was never a dad. He didn’t have time for such frivolity.”

  “His word, I presume?”

  “Sure wasn’t mine.”

  She opened her door and stepped out. A thought hit her and she walked around to look at the driver’s side of the truck.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Just noticing something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “
The bullet holes. They’re all on your side.”

  Gavin looked. And frowned. “Yeah. I suppose it is kinda weird,” he muttered, shooting another look at the truck. “Maybe because I went into a spin, I took the bullets meant for your side.”

  “They were shooting before you were spinning.” Right? Or, had they been spinning first? She’d have thought the moment would have been etched in her memory, but she honestly couldn’t remember.

  He shook his head. “One thing at a time.”

  “Right. Brianne.”

  He followed her up the short walkway to the front door, stood behind her—close enough for her to feel the warmth of his chest against her back—and waited while she rang the bell.

  She shifted, putting a few inches between them, his nearness unsettling. A brief flash of the kiss they’d shared in Kabul zipped across her mind, and heat crept into her cheeks.

  Gavin turned sideways, his head on a swivel. “It’s a nice place. Quiet.”

  “I wouldn’t mind having something like this one day.” Good idea. Talk about anything that would take her mind off the fact that she severely regretted there couldn’t be anything romantic between them.

  “Why one day? Why not now?”

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have time to take care of it like I’d want to. At least I wouldn’t have when I was deployed.” She jabbed the doorbell again and scowled. Now that she’d been discharged, it was a very real possibility that she could have a home like this. One day. After she got herself back in the Army—and separate when it was her choice to leave. She glanced at him. “What about you? Where do you live?”

  “I have a small house not too far from my parents. My dad’s been kind enough to keep the yard up for me. I’ve gone by a few times while you’ve slept, and Caden’s been around to keep an eye on things.”

  “You mean me.”

  “Only in the sense that he’s got your back.”

  She nodded. “He does. I’ve never had to worry about that.”

  “I’ve got your back too, Sarah.”

  His words washed over her. Warming her. “Thanks.” So, not only did his nearness affect her, the look in his eyes was doing odd things to her pulse. “Okay,” she said, clearing her throat, “there are two cars in the drive, but no one’s answering the doorbell.”

  “Maybe they went for a walk.”

  “Or they could be out on the lake.”

  “It’s too cold to swim.”

  “Maybe, but it’s never too cold to boat and fish. Just like it’s never too chilly to eat ice cream.”

  “True.”

  Sarah stepped off the porch and followed the stone path around to the garage where she looked in the window. “Hey, there’s a car in here too.”

  “Probably Brianne’s.”

  “Then who do the other cars belong to? One to the friend and one to . . .” She shrugged. “Could be another friend or family member visiting, I guess.”

  “Could be.”

  She continued around the side of the house to the backyard. Once again, Gavin followed. A large deck extended from the back door, and she walked up the steps to rap on the glass. “Hello? Brianne? Are you here?”

  “The boat is tied to the dock,” Gavin said, “so they’re not on the lake. In that anyway.”

  Sarah went to the window. The blinds had been pulled up and she cupped her hands next to her temples to look in. A gasp slipped from her. “Gavin, there’s someone on the floor, and I see something that sure looks like blood.” She pounded on the window. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?” Nothing.

  He peered in. “Call 911.”

  Sarah grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and dialed while Gavin rammed a shoulder against the door. Once. Twice. With the third hit, it swung inward, ripping the safety chain from the frame and sending it across the room.

  Sarah rattled off the information to the 911 dispatcher while Gavin rushed to the fallen woman’s side. Sarah stepped closer. “That’s not Brianne.”

  “She’s been shot.” Gavin pressed two fingers to her neck. “I have a pulse. Quick, grab a towel from the kitchen but touch as little as possible getting it.”

  Sarah stuck her phone in her pocket and bolted toward the kitchen, ignoring the squawking from the dispatcher and the pain the quick movement sent through her side. She snagged the hand towel hanging on the oven door. When she turned, her elbow knocked into a pill bottle on the counter. The top popped off and pills rolled out.

  She darted back to Gavin, and he folded the cloth, then pressed it to the woman’s chest. “Thanks.”

  “I knocked over a pill bottle.”

  “Just leave them. We’ll tell the officers what happened when they get here. You see any gloves?”

  “Not yet. I’ll look.”

  Opening and closing the drawers with the hem of her shirt just in case there were prints left by whoever shot the woman, she finally found a box of rubber gloves. She pulled four out and yanked two over her hands, grabbed another hand towel, then rushed back to Gavin and handed him the gloves. “Might as well use them if you have them.”

  “Thanks.” He pulled them on. “Stay here with her and press on the wound. She’s lost a lot of blood, but her pulse is steady, and if we can get her to the hospital, I think she’ll be okay. I’m going to check the rest of the house.”

  “You think whoever did this is still here?”

  “Need to figure that out and see if Brianne’s back there.”

  Sarah nodded. “Go, I’ve got this.” She replaced the bloody towel with the clean one and pressed. Prayers whispered from her lips. The sirens in the distance sent relief shooting through her. The woman moaned and her eyelids flickered.

  “Hey,” Sarah said, “help is almost here. You’re going to be okay.”

  Another soft moan, but the woman’s lashes never lifted.

  Belatedly, she remembered the dispatcher and lifted her phone to her ear. “Did you hear all of that?”

  “I heard. How’s she doing?”

  “She’s still breathing, but I’m not a doctor, so it’s hard for me to—”

  A sound behind Sarah snagged her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder to see a man step out of the closet next to the back door. For a moment, her throat froze. His dark eyes locked on hers, his gaze startled, surprised. He backed toward the door, then hesitated. Cursed.

  Paralysis fled. “Gavin!”

  He lunged at her. Sarah lurched sideways. Her heel caught the edge of the rug and she stumbled, sending her phone flying and her hip crashing onto the hardwood floor. Pain arched through her and she gasped even as she tried to roll.

  Hard hands stopped her and yanked her to her feet. A gun pressed against her temple and a forearm jammed against her throat, choking off her scream.

  Sirens reached her ears over the pounding drum of her heart.

  “Put the gun down!” Gavin swept into the room, his own weapon raised, aimed at the man behind her.

  “She’s coming with me. Back off. Back up!”

  “What do you want?” Gavin asked.

  “I just want to leave.”

  “You shot them.”

  Sarah gasped in spite of the pressure against her throat. Them?

  “No! They were dead when I got here.”

  She flinched. They.

  “You were stealing her jewelry,” Gavin said, “and whatever else you could get your hands on.” His gaze flicked to the still-bleeding woman on the floor.

  “Yeah, yeah, I was stealing, but I didn’t kill them!” Her captor’s breathing came in harsh spurts next to her ear as he pulled her toward the door she and Gavin had entered just a bit ago. “But no one’s going to believe that. I’m finished now. I gotta get out of here. Gotta get out of here. Gotta get out of here.”

  Gavin stepped forward from the hallway, eyes narrowed, jaw locked, weapon steady. While Sarah’s terror had shot her adrenaline into the stratosphere, something about Gavin’s expression gave her comfort. Hope. If she c
ouldn’t think of a way to escape, he’d get her out of this. He was a rescuer. It was what he did.

  Right? Oh please be right.

  The muzzle pressed harder against her temple and the man behind her shifted. “Back up! Back up!”

  She wasn’t sure if he was telling her to do that or warning Gavin, but Gavin stilled and her captor moved. She churned her feet to keep from sagging against the already too tight pressure against her throat. Should she try to tell him the woman was still alive? No, if he thought she could identify him, he might decide to finish her off.

  Gavin continued to stalk them, his weapon steady.

  She looked at Brianne’s friend, then back at Gavin. “Help her,” she mouthed.

  His lips tightened even more, but he didn’t look away from the man behind her.

  The sound of the sirens grew louder and his arm spasmed. Hard. She gagged, coughed. Pain lanced her side, but she kept her eyes on Gavin while dragging in shallow breaths. Sarah could feel the man’s heart pounding against her back. Or was that hers?

  “Okay. Here’s the plan,” he said. “My car is in the driveway. We’re going to get in it, and I’ll drive away, then let you go. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. That’s the plan. Let’s go.”

  He pulled her outside onto the deck and down the three wooden steps to the grass. An officer rounded the side of the house followed by two paramedics. The man holding her froze, his harsh breathing almost sobs. “No, no, no.”

  The cop spotted the weapon and pulled his. “Gun! Put the gun down!” He waved the paramedics back while he ducked out of sight against the siding. “Put the weapon down! Put it down!”

  A chorus of the same words from other out-of-sight officers echoed around her. How many were there? A lot, please be a lot.

  Gavin hovered in the doorway, watching, his hand gripping his weapon at his side.

  “Stop! Stay there!” The man shook, his fear strong. “Nobody come any closer!”

  Her eyes caught Gavin’s once more. He needed to stay with the wounded woman inside and keep pressure on her wound and he knew it but was torn.

  “Go,” she mouthed. “Go.”

  He frowned, looked over his shoulder, then back to her.