Trusting Will (The Camerons of Tide's Way #3)

by Skye Taylor

  The cops backed carefully out of the store. Probably calling in the hostage negotiator, Will thought. Like that would help. By the time the guy got here, it would be all over, and someone would probably be dead.

  Will weighed the chances of grabbing the muzzle of the gun and deflecting the shot before the kid could put a bullet into Sam’s brain. Zero to none. Next best thing . . .

  He jerked Sam off his lap, away from the gun, and leaned forward to shield him with his body. He tensed with every expectation of the slicing pain of another hit. The hit didn’t come, but the pain did as the older man jerked Will’s arms behind his body. A moment later zip ties tightened around Will’s wrists.

  Will had never felt so helpless in his life. All his training, and here he was, trussed up and useless. For a while, at least, he could ignore the pain and the fact that he’d been shot. But getting out of the zip ties applied behind his back was almost impossible.

  If anything happened to Sam, Bree would never forgive him. If he lived through it, he’d never forgive himself. He managed to get himself upright again and eased back to lean against the souvenir stand. Timmy huddled on the floor hidden from the direct view of the robbers, but Sam was right out there.

  “Get behind me,” Will whispered to Sam. Sam scooted himself at least partially out of sight, dragging the blue cast decorated with signatures. “Behind me,” Will whispered again. Sam shifted another few inches.

  “What are you planning to do now?” Will asked the robber.

  “I’m thinking. You shut up.” He pointed to his accomplice. “Grab a few of those cans of shaving cream and spray the windows, so they can’t see in.”

  The teenager did as he was told, and a few minutes later the windows were white and somewhat opaque. Even if they’d deployed snipers, the sharpshooters could no longer see clearly. Will and the boys and the unconscious clerk were on their own.

  “Get some more and make it thicker.” Again the teen began methodically adding to the foamy barrier, the hiss of the shaving cans sealing out the daylight and help.

  “Will?” Sam whispered in Will’s ear. “You’re bleeding.”

  Will nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

  “But you’re bleeding a lot.”

  If only Will had applied for that hostage negotiating course the state offered. He might have a clue what to say next. Instead, he’d been focused on the Rapid Response Team. A lot of good that would have done him. Those guys were probably already outside, but with a gun held to a kid’s head, they were as helpless as he was.

  “Will?” Sam poked his arm.

  Without turning his head, Will whispered back. “What?”

  “Will this help?” Sam glanced down at his side. Will’s gaze followed. Sam was holding the little jackknife Will had given him and taught him how to use. It was small and only as sharp as Will had dared to make it, but it might work.

  “Can you reach the ties around my wrists?” Will kept his voice almost inaudible.

  Sam started to turn.

  “No. Don’t move any more than you have to. Don’t attract their attention.”

  Sam’s hand groped along the small of Will’s back until he found the bound wrists. “But I might cut you if I can’t look.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Just feel for the tie, then put the blade against it and saw carefully.”

  The nylon tie tugged, but didn’t give. Sam applied more pressure and tried again. Still nothing.

  “Go back and forth like a saw,” Will hissed.

  Sam leaned into Will’s side and began to work at it again.

  The man with the gun glanced over but apparently decided Sam was huddled against Will’s side in fear. He turned away, and Sam began sawing again.

  Suddenly the zip tie parted. The tip of Sam’s knife did nick Will’s wrist, but compared to the pain in his back it was nothing. At least he was no longer cuffed. But there were still two perps, and both had guns. He wasn’t superman. There was no way he could disarm them both before someone got shot.

  “Why don’t you let the boys go? You’ll still have me and the clerk as hostages.” Will hoped his phone was still connected to the dispatcher. If it was, the police outside would know shortly that there were only two scouts and two adults inside the store. Bree would already have told them about Sam, Will, and Timmy, but she had no way of knowing if there was anyone else inside.

  “I’m not leaving,” Sam declared bravely.

  “I will,” Timmy piped up. He was terrified, and Will didn’t blame him.

  “Shut up. All of you.” The ringleader turned his gun in Will’s direction.

  The teenager finished spraying the last of the cans on the windows and came to stand beside the older guy. “Check the clerk and put these on him.”

  The ringleader studied Will. Hopefully, he was contemplating the suggestion to let the boys go. He had the gun pointed unwaveringly at Will, apparently having decided he was the main risk at this point. Even wounded. “And what good does that do me?” he finally asked.

  “They’re just kids. You’re already in enough trouble. Hurting or even threatening kids makes cops do crazy things. Things they might not do for adults.”

  “And you’d know that because . . .?”

  Almost said too much. No reason to let them know they have a trooper at their mercy unless I have to. Will shrugged. “That’s how it always works on TV.”

  “Bah!” the ringleader scoffed. “It never goes down the way you see it on TV. No! I think I’ll keep the kids. They make better bargaining chips.”

  Okay, time to offer it up. “Not better than a state trooper.”

  The ringleader’s brows shot up, and his eyes widened. “You saying you’re a trooper?

  Will nodded and gave the guy his full name and badge number. “In another minute or so there’ll be a phone call, and it’ll be someone outside wanting to talk to you. To negotiate with you. Ask them to verify that I am who I say I am.”

  Bree could have verified it, but the last thing he wanted to do was drag her into this. The only reason his suit had gone nowhere until now was her aversion to men who lived dangerous lives. She wouldn’t thank him for getting her involved. He’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again after today.

  Almost as if his statement had conjured it up, the store phone began to ring, cutting loudly into the hushed standoff.

  The robber grabbed the phone off its cradle. “What do you want?” He listened, his eyes flat and hard. “Yeah, well I’ve got a guy in here who says he’s a state trooper.” The silence lengthened into a minute. Then several minutes.

  Will turned to check on the teenager, and his head spun. Must be losing more blood than I thought. He blinked and brought the world back into focus. If he could get Sam to put pressure on the wound, maybe he could slow down the bleeding.

  “Psst. Sam. Take off your kerchief.”

  Sam glanced at him with a frown but removed his scouting kerchief. He started to hold it out, then remembered Will’s hands were supposed to be tied behind him. “What should I do with it?” he whispered.

  “Fold it up into a square. Then I need you to press it against the place where you see the blood.”

  Sam reached behind Will again and pressed the folded kerchief against Will’s back.

  “You have to press harder than that.”

  “Won’t it hurt?”

  “Don’t worry about hurting me. Just press as hard as you can.”

  The heel of Sam’s hand dug in. Will winced and bit his lips.

  The ringleader slammed the phone down. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do.” He waved his gun at Will and the boys, then settled back to point directly at Will’s forehead. “The boys can go. You get to stay. And don’t try any heroics.”

  Timmy scrambled
to his feet and bolted for the door.

  Sam didn’t move. His hand still held the kerchief in place. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Yes, you are,” Will said firmly.

  Sam shook his head.

  “Sam. Your mom needs you. You have to go.”

  “But you need me, too.”

  “Not as much as your mom. Now go.”

  Sam looked like he was about to start crying again.

  “Put the kerchief inside my T-shirt. Then go. And remember. Whatever happens, I love you. You’ve been really brave, and I’m proud of you.”

  “Enough of the melodrama. If the kid’s going, he’d better go before I change my mind.”

  Sam’s hands trembled as he wriggled the kerchief down inside Will’s T-shirt. He was crying when he finished. He hugged Will. “I love you, too.”

  “Come’on kid.” The robber kept his gun trained on Will and dragged Sam to his feet. He shoved him toward the door, but Sam slipped and fell.

  “He needs his crutches,” Will explained. Praying the guy wouldn’t shoot first and ask questions later, Will hooked one toe under Sam’s crutches and scooted them across the floor.

  Sam struggled to his feet and put the crutches under his arms.

  “Sam?” Will called out.

  Sam turned to look back.

  “Tell your mom I love her too.”

  Sam nodded and hobbled toward the door. The crutches made squeaking sounds as he went, his cast tapping with every step. When the door finally closed behind Sam, Will let out the breath he’d been holding. At least Sam was safe. And Bree would not have a reason to hate him for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 25

  WILL OPENED HIS eyes, blinked, and tried to focus. Everything blurred. His head spun as if he was on something. He shut his eyes, squeezed them tight, and opened them again. Slowly the room came into focus.

  Muted yellow light seeped in from somewhere, but the room itself was dark. The world outside the room was dark as well.

  I’m in a hospital.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the beeping monitor. Bags of saline and antibiotics trickled into a drip chamber and down the tube and into his arm.

  He tried to move, and pain sliced through him with shocking intensity. He gritted his teeth against the throbbing ache. My God, that hurt. Of all the crazy things I’ve done in my life, nothing ever hurt this much.

  Will shut his eyes, willing oblivion to claim him again. His head swam, and the blackness came to get him.

  A POOL OF BLOND hair spread in glorious disarray over the wrinkled folds of the white sheet that covered him. Will reached down to touch it. So familiar. He’d run his fingers through these silky strands. They’d tickled his bare chest, too. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the memory.

  “Bree?” he whispered, his voice a hoarse croak. When she didn’t stir, he settled his hand atop her sleeping head and felt peace steal over him.

  SUNLIGHT STREAMED in the window. Will blinked against the glare. A tall, dark shadow was silhouetted against the brilliance. It moved and came toward the bed.

  “You’re awake.” Ross Coleman put his hand on the bedrail and bent down to speak. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

  I’ve been shot. Crap! It suddenly came back to him. The convenience store hold-up. The kid with the gun. Sam. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Not even when guns were pointed directly at me.

  Will shut his eyes again. The glare was too much. He wanted to ask how it had it ended but couldn’t summon the energy. I must have lost a lot more blood than I thought.

  What came after I conned those jackass kids with the guns into letting Sam and Timmy go? Must have been some kind of skirmish when the Raleigh police rushed the place. Should remember that at least.

  Voices murmured somewhere on the other side of the room, too faint to hear. Someone came to stand beside him. He needed to open his eyes and talk to them. The murmurs ceased. Quite settled in again. If only it didn’t hurt so much to move, he might enjoy the floating nothingness. He lifted his lids just enough to check the place where Bree’s head had rested the first time he woke. Or was that the second time? He couldn’t remember. He wanted her back.

  WILL SHIFTED HIS shoulders against the rack of souvenirs, careful to keep his hands behind him where they couldn’t see that Sam had cut him free of the zip ties. He gritted his teeth against the pain, closed his eyes for a moment, and opened them again. The kid was coming toward him. Where was the older robber? He was right there on the far side of the counter a minute ago.

  The kid turned his back toward Will and called out to his accomplice. The other man’s voice came from somewhere behind the counter. Must be looking for a safe. Or maybe he’s found it, and he’s trying to get in. This is probably the only chance I’m going to get.

  Will reached up and grabbed the tail of the oversized hoodie. One swift, unexpected yank, and the kid fell over backward and smacked his head on the cement and tile floor. Will scrambled for the gun, came up on one knee, and pointed it toward the place the other man’s voice had come from. Hoodie kid sprawled on his back, not moving. Will concentrated on the man behind the counter.

  “Toss the gun out here and come out with your hands on your head, and I might not shoot you.” Pain rocketed through Will with almost blinding force. For a moment his head spun so wildly he probably couldn’t have hit a dumpster from three feet away, but he wasn’t going to let that fact be known if he could help it. If he stayed where he was, half-sitting, half-kneeling, his head didn’t spin quite so much.

  Will’s gun hand trembled. He blinked away encroaching darkness. “The gun,” he commanded, forcing himself to ignore the pain and dizziness. “And I want to see you. Right now. Hands on your head.”

  Slowly the man straightened and came into sight. But his gun was aimed straight at Will, and it wasn’t wavering. Will pulled the trigger.

  Noise filled his head. Confusion and commotion. Shouting. Running feet. Uniformed police with their guns aimed at him.

  “I’m a trooper,” he shouted as he tossed down the gun and raised his hands. “I’m a trooper.”

  “Will. Wake up. It’s okay.”

  Will dragged his eyes open. “I’m a trooper.”

  “I know. You were having a nightmare.” Bree hovered above him with a worried look on her face and exhaustion in her eyes. Her hair fell in a shiny veil about her face. He reached up to touch it.

  “You came back.”

  “Of course I came back.” She bent and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Were you dreaming about the robbery?”

  “I don’t know.” There had been a lot of pain. A lot of shouting. Nothing he could latch onto now. “Maybe.”

  She pulled up a chair and sank down beside the bed.

  “I’m . . . sorry,” he told her.

  She leaned in and brushed her fingers across his jaw. “What on earth are you sorry about?”

  He reached for her hand. “I . . . promised not to get . . . shot.”

  “You saved my son.”

  His heart contracted. It was about Sam. Not him. “Line . . . of . . . duty,” he muttered. He closed his eyes but kept hold of her hand. Whatever they had him on was dragging him down again. “Bree . . .”

  “YOU WEREN’T ON duty,” Bree whispered. Will had dozed off again. There was so much she had to tell him. If only he’d stay awake long enough.

  Will’s friend Ross Coleman had told her Will woke briefly while she was downstairs grabbing a bite to eat. A detective from the Raleigh Police Department had been there to take Will’s statement. The officer had filled Will in on the details that were still foggy in his head. The fact that when gunshots were heard, the police stormed in to find one robber out cold and the other clutching his bloody right arm where Will’s bullet
had ripped through the flesh.

  According to Ross Coleman, Will hadn’t taken nearly as much credit for his own bravery as he’d given Sam for making it possible. Sam, of course, had told Bree all about how he’d cut the ties off Will’s wrists and helped to stop the bleeding. They made a good team.

  She’d finally accepted the fact that Will Cameron was meant to be in her life and Sam’s, only to have the unthinkable happen. At a time and in a place where it could have happened to anyone. Will had just been unlucky.

  Now all she could think of was that line in the old movie When Harry Met Sally, at the very end when Harry told Sally that once he realized what he wanted in life, he wanted that life to begin right away. He’d run across an entire city to tell her as soon as possible.

  But Bree hadn’t even walked across a crowded room. She’d stayed in those bleachers, knowing that whatever Will was, whatever he did for a living, however hard or dangerously he played, she was ready to take the risk. She loved him, and she wanted their life together to begin that very moment. But rather than tell him the first chance she got, she’d put it off, waiting for some perfect moment.

  A moment she had come so close to never having at all.

  She released the bedrail and lowered it. Then, pulling the chair as close to the bed as possible, she settled in to wait. He looked so peaceful and defenseless as he slept. She smoothed his mussed hair and ran her fingers over the blond scruff that covered his cheeks. This was a whole new view of Will.

  She leaned in closer, kissed his sleeping lips, then laid her head next to his on the pillow.

  WITH THE PAIN meds reduced and the healing begun, Will felt a lot better. A lot more like his old self. He was still napping too much, but he’d been up, used the bathroom on his own with a nurse hovering at the door, and tried to talk his doctor into allowing a shower. He’d had to settle for a sponge bath and a shave. But the improvement had been dramatic. He settled back against the nest of pillows to rest until Bree returned.