“Stop the bleeding. This is Dennelli’s town. The sooner we get her out of here, the better.”
Joe hated himself right now. He should have moved faster. He should have stayed with her. He should have stood his ground with Murphy. He screwed up all the way around, but he wasn’t going to do it again. Her wound wasn’t life threatening, as long as they controlled the bleeding and kept her from going into shock.
When he saw her on the floor in the corner of the office, pale, not moving, blood everywhere, he thought she was dead. He came so close to losing it before Walker found her pulse. She hovered on the edge of consciousness, but Joe couldn’t tell if she recognized him. It would be best if she was out of it for a while. She was going to hurt like hell soon enough.
Murphy arrived within minutes, and now there were ATF agents everywhere. Joe took the notebook from Sinclair’s lifeless fingers and handed it to him. “I hope this is worth it.”
Murphy was doing everything he could to accommodate Joe’s needs, even putting his chopper at their disposal to get Cara to the airstrip as soon as she was stabilized. He couldn’t fault Murphy for the way he was handling this, but Joe was furious. Everyone scrambled to stay out of his way.
Walker looked up from the floor. “Okay, I’ve stopped the bleeding. The bullet went clear through. She’s stable, but we need to move.”
Joe knelt down beside her and brushed his hand along her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled weakly. It didn’t last. Her face contorted with pain. She gritted her teeth and grabbed the edges of his jacket in her fists.
“She needs morphine,” Joe said over his shoulder.
“Take it easy. I’ve got it right here.” Murphy knelt beside him and slid a needle into the muscle of her right arm. When he stood, he handed the metal container with the rest of his syringes to Walker. “Try not to give her anymore, but if you have to…”
Walker nodded.
She relaxed within seconds. The morphine left her eyes glazed and empty. Joe scooped her up against his chest and started for the chopper. Walker went ahead, clearing a path. Murphy trailed along behind. Walker jumped aboard and Joe handed Cara to him, then climbed in and reclaimed her, holding her on his lap.
“How… bad… is it?” Her voice faded.
“You’re going to be good as new.” Joe smiled.
“Brian?” It was barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry.” He was surprised he meant it. Not because Sinclair deserved any less than he got, but because it was one more thing to hurt her.
She closed her eyes again, and a single tear ran down her cheek. He brushed it away tenderly.
At the airstrip, the chopper set down right beside the waiting jet. They loaded up and took off in less than ten minutes.
“We have to get her feet up and keep her warm to minimize shock,” Walker said.
They placed her on blankets on the floor toward the back of the plane. Joe covered her with more blankets, and Walker propped her legs up on pillows. Joe sat on the floor beside her. Rayna took a seat nearby, staring at Cara’s pale features. Ty and Walker took turns walking by to check on her. With everyone on this plane pulling for her, she had to get better. Didn’t she? Joe tried to remember what his life had been like before she exploded into it.
Forty-five minutes into the flight, she stirred and her eyes opened.
“Welcome back, Party Girl,” Joe said when her gaze finally focused on him. “Are you comfortable?”
“Cold.” Her whisper caused a flurry of activity as his three trained soldiers hustled to find her another blanket. Rayna finally handed him one. He leaned over Cara, tucking it around her carefully.
“I’ll have Murphy send you somewhere tropical first. Switzerland could be on the cold side.”
She frowned as she pulled her right hand from the blankets. Ignoring his protest, she reached for him. He wrapped both of his hands around her icy cold one.
“What… would you say… if I told you… I don’t want to go?”
He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “I’d say that’s probably the morphine talking.”
She frowned again. “I sound perfectly… lucid to me.”
“I’m not sure you’re the best judge of that right now.”
“I’ll… tell you later then. Any idea when you might… take me seriously?”
He wanted her to stay so damn bad it hurt, but he couldn’t allow her to make a decision that important when she might not remember it tomorrow. He looked away. He was afraid, even strung out on drugs, she’d see the desperation in his eyes. Finally, he met her gaze. “If you say that again after we’re home, I’m holding you to it. Now, get back under the blankets—before I crawl under there with you.” He leaned close to tuck the blankets around her again.
“You smell good…” Her eyes fell shut.
He sat back and shook his head. “Damn, Cara… as usual, your timing sucks.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
* * *
Friday, 11:56 am
AS A TEENAGER, Cara spent all her time with guns. In morbid fascination, she wondered what it would feel like to be shot. The horror she imagined back then paled in contrast to reality. Her whole body went numb on impact, but all too soon her torn and ravaged nerve endings came awake with excruciating pain. She held her breath and clamped her lips tightly to keep from screaming Joe’s name… or maybe she did.
“I’m here, Cara.” His voice came from far away, yet when she peered through eyelids too heavy to open all the way, he was right beside her, concern etching deep furrows in his brow. God, it hurt, but the words she struggled to tell him couldn’t escape her gritted teeth. Somehow he knew, and it must have been him who made the pain go away. Every time after that when she opened her eyes, he sat beside her looking worried and haggard.
Everyone spoke in hushed tones, but it was too much effort to open her eyes. Was she dying? She tried to ask, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate, and Joe laughed softly. What the hell did she say, anyway? Oh, forget it… she was too tired to deal with it now.
Arms encircled her, lifting, and she forced her eyes open enough to glimpse his face as he carried her effortlessly from the plane to the Hummer. He wore that same concerned look. Maybe she was dying.
“Home yet?” Her words slurred badly, and she tried again. “Are we… home yet?”
“We just landed in Kalispell. We’ll be at the hospital in five minutes. How bad is the pain?” He slid into the backseat and settled her in his lap.
“Hospital…? Why?”
“You were wounded. We have to get you to a hospital so they can patch you up.”
“Then can… I go home?” Sleep—safe and warm in her room. That was what she needed. Didn’t he know?
“As soon as the doctor says it’s okay, I’ll take you home.”
Something else niggled at her brain and made her uneasy. What was it? Suddenly, she jerked her head up and focused on his face. “Walker? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, although pretty upset with me right now.”
“Why?”
Walker’s voice reached her from the front seat. “Joe flew you halfway across the country before he found a hospital he was satisfied you’d be safe in.”
He was okay. She shivered with the relief that coursed through her.
“Nice job with the knife, Cara. That throw probably saved your life.”
Joe’s jaw clenched.
“Don’t blame yourself,” she whispered. He looked away from her. Cara laid her head on his chest again, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heart. Surely his strength was the only thing keeping her here. Soon her eyes closed again.
Friday, 5:37 pm
CARA SQUINTED AGAINST the bright light. Where was she? Machines surrounded the bed she lay in, a few beeping, all attached to her in some way. A hospital? Why couldn’t she remember? It was impossible to move, and her left shoulder seemed heavy and thick with bandages. Was she hurt? Shouldn’t she feel something? She squeezed he
r eyes closed. Think. How did she get here? Her eyes flew open again. Joe. He carried her… because… she’d been shot? Oh God… Brian. She held her breath while memories washed over her.
She was terrified when the doctor told her she was going into surgery. Joe never left her side. With his calm, sure strength he took her hands and looked into her eyes. “Don’t be afraid, Cara. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His absolute confidence left no room for doubt, but she couldn’t bear to release his hand as they wheeled her gurney toward the operating room. His face, smiling down at her, was the last thing she remembered.
Now, her gaze moved around the room until she saw him standing by the window, one arm braced against the casing above his head. Thank God he was here.
“Joe?”
He swung around and hurried to her side. “Hey, Party Girl.” He grasped her hand and smiled.
One glimpse of his haggard features and the circles beneath his eyes and her relief changed to concern. “Why haven’t you slept?”
“I threatened mayhem to get the hospital to allow me in here. I wasn’t about to leave until I knew you were all right. I slept an hour or so in the chair.”
“Can we go home now?”
“Not quite yet. What is this sudden longing you have for the ranch, anyway?”
“It kinda grows on you.”
“I told you it would.” He flashed a boyish grin.
“Where is everybody?”
“Ty’s around here somewhere. Steve and Sanchez too. I’m sure they’ll stop by and see you when you’re feeling more like company. Walker and Rayna will be back in a while. I’m positive they won’t be able to keep Irene from hitching a ride in with them. You’ve caused quite a stir.”
“I ruined Irene’s sweater. I have to get her a new one.”
Joe brushed his fingertips across her lips. “Shhh. We’ll find her one later. Right now, she just wants to know you’re okay.”
The silence stretched while she searched his eyes. He was still worried. “Did you get the notebook?”
“Murphy’s having it analyzed. He’s hopeful… and very sorry. He asked me to give you that message and said he’d be here as soon as you’re ready, with a new itinerary.”
Joe must still think she wanted to go. He’d never ask her to stay now, after she caused him so much trouble. Her gaze slid away from his. “Is the job finished then?”
“Not until we find the contact and put him out of business. Then we’ll be done until the next time Murphy, or someone like him, calls. Until then, there’s always training the next generation.”
“You love it, don’t you?”
He glanced toward the door, a frown darkening his features. “I enjoy what I do.”
“Will I ever see you again, Joe?”
“Every day until you get out of here. After that, it’s up to you.”
It was the future she wondered about, after she assumed her new identity, but she already knew the answer. If she took that step, she’d never see him again. The finality tore at her heart and she had to look away.
The doctor threw the door back and charged into the room. “How are we doing in here?” His voice boomed as he immediately began checking monitors. “Are you in any pain?”
“I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s the injections we gave you for the surgery. Unfortunately, it will wear off. You’ll feel it, but we’ll try to keep you comfortable.”
“When can I go home?”
“The nurse will be in momentarily and get you into a regular room. I want to keep an eye on you for twenty-four hours. If everything is all right this time tomorrow, we’ll kick you out of here.”
She frowned. Twenty-four hours seemed like an eternity at the moment.
Friday, 8:30 pm
RAYNA AND IRENE only stayed a short time, but Cara nearly cheered when the nurse bustled in and announced visiting hours were over. Her head hurt, her shoulder throbbed and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
Walker came in as the two women left. He broke out in a broad grin, leaned over the bed and kissed her cheek.
“Damn, Cara. Quite a day.”
“Not one I want to repeat right away.”
“Or ever.”
“What happened in the elevator, Walker?”
“Turned out they were only wannabe hoodlums. They weren’t ready for the unexpected, so they both hit the ground before the elevator reached the lower level. I kicked them out down there, punched in the code you so thoughtfully provided, and got my ass back up where the action was.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Shit, I didn’t do anything. It was you and that knife—which still needs some work, by the way. Joe took Sinclair out before he got off another shot. All in all, I’d say it was our lucky day.”
She flinched and looked away, tears stinging her eyes.
“Aw, hell! I’m sorry, Cara.” He took her hand. “You already know I’m an insensitive bastard, but not even I intentionally kick someone when they’re down.”
She squeezed his hand. He had every reason to be pleased with Brian’s death. Walker had been in just as much danger as she—maybe more. Her emotions now firmly under control, she turned toward him again. “What about Kathy? Does Murphy know Brian’s wife is in danger?”
“I filled him in on what I knew. Sinclair never mentioned who was threatening him. Your brother was in a tough spot, but that doesn’t excuse what he did.”
Her eyes burned again, and she cleared her throat. She wasn’t going to shed any more tears for her brother.
“How’s the patient doing?”
Sam. She recognized the voice that came from the doorway and glanced up to see a man dressed in khaki slacks and a dark brown Henley shirt, partially obscured by a huge bouquet of flowers. His unexpected appearance set her already raw nerves on edge.
Walker frowned, sensing her apprehension.
Sam walked farther into the room and set the vase of roses down on a window ledge, then turned to Walker and stuck out his hand. “Sam Garrett.”
Walker shook Sam’s hand after a slight hesitation, and his tension clearly emphasized his distrust.
“This is Walker.” She finished the introduction, not bothering to hide her irritation, half-expecting one or both of them to start thumping their chests any moment.
“Gunshot, Cara? I didn’t take you for the crazy, reckless kind.” Sam eyed her accusingly, until she squirmed under his inspection.
“It was an accident. Nothing reckless about it.” She caught Walker’s eye.
He stepped between her and Sam. “Cara said you two met at the fair in Bozeman?”
“Oh right, that reminds me.” Sam pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I wanted to give you this.”
She took the paper he held out and smoothed it open. It was a pencil sketch of her face, smiling wistfully, with a Ferris wheel in the background.
“Sam, this is great!” She regarded him in surprise.
“Don’t look so shocked. I told you I was an artist.”
She wasn’t sure she really believed it until now. Relief brought a fleeting smile.
“You were a moment of true inspiration.” He smiled warmly. “Listen, I won’t keep you. You need your rest. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Maybe I’ll stop by in the morning.”
“Thank you, Sam.”
“My pleasure. Sleep well.” He turned toward Walker, and the smile left his face. “Nice meeting you.”
Seconds after he left the room, Joe walked in, hesitating briefly when both Cara and Walker stared at him. Then he took in the flowers and the sketch in her hand.
“Garrett?”
“You just missed him. Boss, that guy makes my skin crawl.” Walker dropped into a chair near her bed.
“He’s an artist. He’s harmless.” She glanced at Joe.
“It’s interesting he knew right where to find you only hours after we arrived.” He walked to the bed and reached for h
er hand. “I don’t want you alone in this room for a second.”
“You got that right.” Walker still stared at the door.
So much for Joe’s trusting nature. They were talking around her as though she wasn’t even in the room. Obviously, her opinion meant nothing to them, but that wasn’t going to keep her from having one. Sam was a nice, lonely man, still grieving for the loved ones he’d lost. He meant no harm. She wasn’t going to be suspicious of him just because these two mercenaries saw bad guys under every rock.
“Do you think I could get something for the pain?” she asked quietly. Joe immediately stopped conspiring with Walker and went to find a nurse.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
* * *
Saturday, 8:37 am
JOE SPENT THE night in a chair beside her bed, wishing there was something—anything—he could do. Cara slept restlessly, unable to move freely with her shoulder heavily bandaged and her arm in a sling. She awoke anxious, uncomfortable, and bristling for a fight.
“How are we this morning?” The young, inexperienced nurse first on the scene practically bubbled over with good cheer. Joe’s gaze flew to Cara, afraid to even guess what her reaction would be. He didn’t have to wait long.
“How are we?” Cara pressed her lips together and pulled herself off the pillows until she was less than a foot from the grinning nurse. “Well, honey, we feel like shit, and we’re about a heartbeat away from kicking someone’s ass.”
He hid a grin as the nurse’s smile vanished and she backed away, casting helpless glances his way. He jumped up, stepped between Cara and the fleeing nurse, and raised his hand, hoping the poor woman would understand and stay until he could calm Cara down.
“Do you need anything?” He picked up her hand and held it in both of his. “How’s the pain?”
“How do you think it is? It hurts like hell.”
He motioned to the nurse standing just inside the door, and she hustled away, returning with a syringe full of cloudy liquid.
“I hate needles.” Cara tossed and fidgeted on the bed. Her wary expression stopped the nurse in her tracks. “Can’t you give me something that doesn’t require a syringe?”
All or Nothing: A Trust No One Novel Page 21