by DiAnn Mills
“Meghan.”
He crawled in and felt for a pulse. She was alive. He released the seat belt, debating whether to pull her out or wait for the paramedics. “Talk to me.” When she didn’t answer, he carefully lifted her body from the wreckage.
A slight moan escaped her lips. He kissed her while tears blurred his vision. “Hold on, baby. Help’s coming.” Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? “If you can hear me, I love you.”
The sound of a siren filled the night air. How long had he held her? Ash had no idea if the emergency vehicle was the sheriff or an ambulance, but she needed help.
God, please. Not Meghan.
Chapter 62
Lindsay woke shortly after one thirty in the morning, her TV blaring with an old movie she’d seen before. Meghan should be here by now, and Lindsay wanted to know if the stalker had been found. Her heart sped at the thought of a man naming Burnette as the one who’d ordered Wade’s death and stalked her, bombed her car and killed another person. He might even be behind the attempt on her father’s life in Atlanta. She slipped into a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt and opened her bedroom door. Victor and Bob stood by the stair railing.
“Hey, guys. Is Meghan back yet?”
Lines creased Bob’s brow.
“What’s the matter?” She glanced from one agent to the other. “Where’s Meghan?”
“I’ll get Dave.” Bob walked the hallway. “He’s downstairs.”
A sickening dread spread through her. A need for air compounded with lightheadedness assaulted her, a sensation she recognized as a panic attack. She breathed in and out just like Dave had taught her. Meghan had to be all right. She’d risked her life to help bring Burnette to justice. She focused on Victor. “Is she alive? Just tell me that.”
“Yes.”
“How bad? What happened to her?”
“I don’t know the details.”
Lindsay descended the stairs, willing her heart to stop its rapid beating. Dave met her at the landing. This was her fault. All her fault. “I have to know about Meghan. I know it’s bad, but Victor won’t tell me a thing.”
Dave took both her hands. “She was in a car accident—”
“The Silver Spur is only nine miles down the road.” Her breathing grew more rapid, and she trembled.
“Take a deep breath, Lindsay. Look at me.”
Her gaze darted everywhere but at him. She couldn’t help it. Meghan was hurt, and she had to be in horrible condition from the looks on everyone’s faces.
“Lindsay.” His sharp voice captured her attention, and she looked into his kind face. “Breathe in and out slowly.”
“Will you tell me about Meghan?”
“I will as soon as you calm yourself.”
Several moments later, he led her to the sofa in the family room. She sat there, conscious of others watching her. She wanted to be strong. Hated the weakness. “I’m okay. I want to know about Meghan . . . and the car accident.”
“We don’t know anything yet. An ambulance has taken her to the hospital.”
“Thank you.” Her voice quivered. “I want to wait here for word.” She glanced around. “Is Ash with her?”
“Yes. He’ll phone us from the hospital.” She’d grown to appreciate Dave’s soothing voice.
The back door opened, and Chip walked in. His flushed face revealed his concern. “I heard the news from one of the agents. Any updates?”
“Nothing yet.” Bob shook his hand. “We appreciate your concern.”
Had the agents begun to believe in his innocence?
“I figured she’d gone solo.” Chip’s gaze softened. “Lindsay, you okay?”
She nodded. “It’s my fault, and I know it.”
He crossed the room and knelt in front of her. “It’s Meghan’s and these agents’ job to protect you. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I lied to get your car.”
“It’s okay. I understand, and given the same circumstances, I’d have done the same.”
“If I hadn’t angered the wrong people, none of this would have happened. First the bombing, then Wade, and now Meghan. Why can’t the cops or the Secret Service or someone find these guys?” She knew the answer. Tell them. . . . Tell them. . . .
But no one would believe the vice president of the United States murdered people. Meghan tried to help, and look what happened. They’d be after Ash, too.
Chip had been with both agents tonight, but she had no idea for how long. “Ash shouldn’t be alone at the hospital.”
“The sheriff’s with him. I stopped in to tell you that I’m heading there now. Someone needs to be with Ash.” He threw his attention at Victor.
“Sounds like a great idea, since none of us can leave. Sorry about your car.”
“It can be replaced. And thanks. I’m leaving in the next few minutes.” He took Lindsay’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know you can’t take calls, but I’ll be thinking about you.”
Lindsay saw in the depths of his green eyes what she’d never seen in a man before. It both welcomed and frightened her. “Meghan and Ash are Christians. They’d want us to pray for them.”
Chip held her hands. “Sounds like an Ethan Leonard quote. I don’t have a direct line to God, but we can try.”
Chapter 63
Meghan’s body throbbed from her head to her toes, as though she’d been beaten and left to die. She prayed for strength to endure the agony tearing through her. Why hadn’t someone given her a pain shot? For the first time in her life, she understood why Shelley, Lindsay, and countless others chose drugs to alleviate physical and mental torment.
“Meghan?”
Ash. She should summon courage, not let him see her like this.
“If you’re awake, squeeze my hand.”
She hadn’t been aware of her hand in his, only the intense pain. She forced herself to move both hands, not sure where his enveloped hers.
“Good girl.”
Ash’s voice sounded warm, gentle. She wanted to see him, but her eyes refused to open. How had this happened? Now she remembered. A truck had pushed her over a bridge as she drove back from the Silver Spur. Fire shot through her lower abdomen and caused her to cry out. Enough of this.
She struggled to open her eyes, though a cloud covered her vision. She saw images but nothing recognizable.
“I quit.” Had she spoken the words as she intended, or were they mere thoughts that she couldn’t communicate?
“I don’t blame you.”
He’d heard, and he understood. “Can’t do this . . . any . . . more.”
“Of course.”
“You—” This time the pain rippled up and down her right leg—“win.”
His lips brushed across the top of her hand. “No, sweetheart. You’re the winner.”
She wanted to say more, to tell him she’d resign from Lindsay’s protective detail as soon as she could hold a pen. Lindsay wasn’t safe with her. Meghan didn’t have the ability to keep Burnette and his people away. She gasped with the throbbing in her body.
“Miss Connors, you have a morphine pump. All you have to do is squeeze it when you are uncomfortable. Here, I’ll show you.” A woman’s voice broke through Meghan’s thoughts. She placed a rubber bulb into her hand and helped her squeeze it. “You can’t overdose. Use it. There’s no reason for you to suffer. No reason for you to be a hero.”
If only she had the strength to tell the woman that she could never be a hero. Her role as Lindsay Hall’s protector was over. She’d failed. She couldn’t even drive without getting run off the road.
“Will she sleep?” Ash’s words soothed her. He must be disappointed in her disgusting performance.
“Probably so. And that’s what we want.”
A warm sensation spread through her, bringing with it relief, and she slipped into peaceful darkness.
Later that day, Ash studied the battered, serene face of the woman he’d once wanted to despise. Now he loved her, ached for what s
he was going through. He steadied himself while talking to Warrington.
Where once selfishness ruled in the guise of purpose, now passion and love breathed life into his rock-hard heart. Meghan brought back the dreams of a little boy who played with Hot Wheels and believed a frog belonged in his pocket. A little boy with five smooth stones who trusted that the Goliaths of his life would always be defeated. How one woman could make him feel protective when she had the skills to protect him was baffling.
Ash glanced around Meghan’s hospital room, seeing and smelling the roses he’d sent to her. Her eyes were closed, yet he knew she was listening to his every word to Warrington.
“Ash, do you really think an autopsy is necessary for Ethan Leonard? I mean, he was an old man who worked himself to death.”
Ash’s jaw clenched. “I think it’s critical. The man didn’t have any health issues. No heart problems in his family, and you know what’s been going on here.”
“Who do you suspect?”
He wasn’t going to tell him what he knew about Burnette until he had more leverage. Neither was he going to toss out a name without proof. “I can’t say yet. But I’ll have a name or names to you soon.”
“Are you saying an agent is involved in a conspiracy? Come on. They’re dedicated guys.”
“Think about it. If Ethan didn’t die of natural causes, then Chip’s clear of any involvement. Then we have a real problem.” Ash wanted to confide in him about Burnette, but not until he knew Warrington could be trusted.
“True. I didn’t feel comfortable about having him returned to the ranch. The VP created more problems when we removed him than I care to name. Said no one but a Leonard could handle his horses.”
“So you’ll order the autopsy?”
Warrington paused. “All right.”
“Thanks, and I appreciate your putting a rush on it.”
“Keep your eyes open. This mess keeps getting worse. How’s Agent Connors doing?”
Ash smiled at the woman he loved. “She’s trying to get released today, but that’s not happening. Said she could recover from a concussion at the Dancin’ Dust.”
“I’ll save my lecture for when she recovers. Can’t believe she didn’t break anything. She’s a tough gal.”
“And a dynamite agent.”
“Oh? What changed your mind about her?”
“Eight weeks on a remote ranch in West Texas.”
“You’ve just cracked your image.”
“I know. The Secret Service will never be the same.”
Warrington chuckled. “I’ll be back with you as soon as I have the autopsy report.”
Ash turned off his phone and leaned over to plant a kiss on Meghan’s lips. “You have become a habit.”
“Addiction?”
“The good kind.” He took her hand into his, remembering his first view of the wreckage. “You scared me.”
She smiled through swollen lips. Her right eye had turned a deep purple and a bruise swept across her cheek. “I was lucky. I ache all over, but looking at you, having you right here beside me is all the medicine I need.”
“I prayed hard from the moment I saw where the car had gone off the bridge to when the doctor said you were one lucky lady.”
“That’s God.”
“Yeah. For sure.”
She studied him. “You haven’t been back to the ranch.”
“Oh, you noticed my shirt? Didn’t want to leave my lady. Two agents have replaced us for now.”
“I’ll be back on duty tomorrow.”
“Right.”
She frowned. “My memory is zilch. Nothing after hitting the bridge.”
“Good, considering.”
She nodded. “I remember pain.”
“Do you remember quitting?”
Her brown eyes widened. “You’re kidding.” She bit her lip. “I remember dreaming about it.”
“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
A tear slipped from her eye, and he dabbed it with his finger. “How can I give up on Lindsay? Or bringing him to justice?”
“That’s my girl.”
“I wish I could remember something that would help find who pushed me over the bridge. I’d go after him myself.”
He chuckled. “I believe you would. Makes me feel sorry for the scorpion you found in your bed. But I promise you, his days are numbered. Chip stayed with me until eight this morning. Once you woke, he drove back to the ranch. Told me the agents, Dave, Carla, and Lindsay prayed for you. And if you can believe this, it was Lindsay’s idea.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, but he saw another tear. “She’s going to make it, Ash. I feel it.”
“Hope so. Chip and I talked, and I believe he’s innocent of any crimes. He also told me that he didn’t see any skid marks on the bridge.”
“Have the authorities found anything?”
“Not yet.” Ash wished he had something positive to report.
“The autopsy will tell us a lot. But I wish we could have obtained one without bringing Warrington into it.”
He nodded. “No choice. If Warrington is involved . . .” The implications were more than he wanted to consider at the moment.
“We’re both dead.”
Ash smoothed back the hair from her forehead. “Not us. We’re super agents.”
“I think you’ve been using my morphine pump. Can I see what I look like?”
He wanted to prolong that aspect of her recovery. “Vanity is not a positive attribute.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m leaving in a few hours, which means I’ll get a good look in the car. I’d much prefer to see how others will see me, so I can be prepared. It’s not Halloween yet.”
He grimaced. “Close. On the way back to the ranch, you can take a peek in the rearview mirror. And the earliest you’ll be released is tomorrow.”
“Can I always expect the truth from you?”
“You can.”
“And you’re not holding back on me? I don’t have a broken nose or missing front teeth?”
“No, baby, you’re beautiful except for a few shades of blue and purple.”
“Thank you. I’m going back to sleep.”
He’d promised himself he’d tell her of his feelings when she awakened. “I have to tell you something.”
“I’m listening.”
His phone rang again, and the caller had priority. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“I’m calling to check on Agent Connors. Warrington is keeping me informed, but I wanted her to know how much I appreciate what she attempted to do last night.”
“Thank you, sir. She’s resting.”
“Don’t bother her. Please tell her I’m behind her all the way. We will bring an end to these tragedies. On a personal note, Dave’s reports are glowing, and I know much of Lindsay’s progress is attributed to Agent Connors’s encouragement.”
“I will. Thank you.” The phone disconnected.
“Wow. I feel important.” Sleep threatened to overcome her. “What . . . what did you want to tell me?”
He leaned over the bed. “I love you, Meghan Connors. Not sure how it happened, but I realized it when I pulled you out of Chip’s Mustang.”
Her eyes flew open, and a smile spread from one bruise to another. “I dreamed you were carrying me and told me those very words.”
“You weren’t dreaming.”
“I love you too. What an unlikely pair. We—”
He touched her lips. “Get some sleep. We can talk later.”
Watching her sleep peacefully calmed him. Raking his fingers through his hair, he wished they had answers. Burnette’s plan ticked away, and Ash had no idea when it would explode next. Who had sold out to him? Each time he considered a member of his team, he pulled a blank. Burnette requested Victor and Bob, but these were trustworthy men. Dave had no contact with Burnette, but they could be corresponding in secret. Then again, Burnette could have Dave earmarked for the next hit.
Every person
at the Dancin’ Dust could be linked to Burnette. Ash had watched their body language, listened to what they said, followed them. Who could it be?
Then a thought occurred to him. A consideration so ridiculous that at first he tossed it aside. His sleep-deprived mind must be affecting his logic. But it made sense. The autopsy report had the potential to add another player to the chess game. He thought Chip was a pawn, used for whatever purpose Burnette needed. The knight danced two steps in his comfort zone and took one step into the unknown, and that was who Ash wanted to nail.
He fretted about taking Meghan back to the ranch tomorrow. In her vulnerable condition, someone might try to hurt her . . . again.
Chapter 64
Monday afternoon, Lindsay scribbled the line of a song she’d spent the past two days perfecting. The tune danced through her head, but the words were another matter. Her premise was to show how wildflowers were like people’s lives, blooming for a season. But the idea refused to translate on paper.
Maybe a song about her fragile feelings for Chip deserved her energy and passion. She pressed her journal to her heart, much like how she used to hold her teddy bear, relishing its softness. Not that she wanted immaturity in her writing, but an appreciation for what made life worth living.
Chip . . . Being with him urged her to be a better person. To stay clean and honest. She could laugh with him and relax. Perhaps that’s what she valued the most about him. No pretense. No fear of being used. Some girls dreamed of a handsome prince. Lindsay longed for a simple man who understood her need to be close to nature, the earth, and animals. She smiled. This was the Lindsay she kept tucked away. Until she met Chip.
She lay the journal in her lap, opened to a clean page, and began again. A knock on her door interrupted her musings.
“Lindsay, Vice President Burnette would like to talk to you.” Ash’s voice held no emotion. While here at the Dancin’ Dust, she’d learned how his impassive tone was really an invitation for her to make a decision.
“Please tell him I’m busy.” She picked up her pen.
“He says it’s urgent.”